Gondor, castle referred to as "the castle of lions
lonce keith gets notice to go to the prancing pony and takes hunk there, pidge and matt join in bc theyre trouble like that; and at the prancing pony instead of meeting shiro they meet coran instead–aragorn style–who (as an elf) decides to take them to alfor lonce and so, after being attacked at weathertop, they meet allura in the same manner as arwen
Takes on the role of Boromir Veronica takes on the role of Faramir
For the most part keeping Boromir's background, except that... - keeping his family size – mother still died when lance was 10. his older siblings fucked off bc their father is a douche, but he keeps close to them - veronica is still the older sister, favoured by their father; she defended her little brother for many years and inspired his growth - lance left to the council of elrond to prove to himself and others that he was made for greatness
"gondor has no king, gondor needs no king" - boromir during the council (HMMM)
- 87 Y.O. at beginning of this journey. Mother was probably around that age when she died (Dunedain, so long life.) Mom last in the "pure" line to the throne of Gondor. - Has a dress for every season. - Has read every book daddy has. - Still ready to throw down if provoked, but diplomacy first.
- Always been curious about her human heritage. Been open exploring the wilds and meeting new people. Alfor had been cool and supportive of adventuring until more recent times when shit gets more gloomy. Then he wants her closer at home. (She thinks it's because he's planning to leave with other Elves and he knows She's Not About That.) - DESPITE THAT SHE STILL GOES OUT SOMETIMES!! especially if other elves are going out on patrol. That's how she found the Hobbits and brought them back to Rivendell where Alfor made sure Keith didn't die with a weird 90s montage sequence.
Wood elf from (do your research) that moved to rivendell many years ago; initially only meant to be a short stay, he fell in love with the place and made permanent residence. works at the smithy, very fond of building and crafting weaponry, an eye for riches
- not actually 100% hobbit, krolia is either not a hobbit or only half hobbit im just not sure - he grew up feeling as an outsider to the life of a hobbit, but tried to live with the discontent. generally considered a misfit among hobbits after receiving the ring, his dreams of leaving hobbiton grew
[ Lance remembered growing up, hearing whispers about the elves of Rivendell. It's strange being here now, standing in their dark halls. In some ways it's all that he'd imagined, but in many ways, like nothing he's ever seen before. Beautiful folk who lived in a beautiful land. He hadn't been sure if it was acceptable for him to meander the halls of the elves at such a late hour, but figured it was better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. He wanted to at least experience this place as much as he could in the hours that kept him sleepless.
Gazing on a painting, he reflects on the old stories of his people–an image of the battle that finally laid the Dark Lord to rest. He touches its surface–the paint looked as fresh as the day the first stroke was laid on its surface. No doubt some elven magic or material kept it so clean. ]
Must be Elendil? [ He mutters. He can't read elvish, but looks at the plaque that denotes the picture. ]
[ Allura had been extremely curious about their guests as soon as they arrived. Though she knew the matter of the gathering was one of grave importance, she has always held a certain affection for the other races of Middle Earth, quite often in contrast to most of her kind. It was likely due, in no small part, to her mother's heritage, one that even her father couldn't deny her of. He knew that visitors would be a temptation, but requested that she give them space.
And she did, for the most part. There were certain halls of the House of Alfor that Allura frequented, parts of her history that were less discussed, if at all. It is in one such room that Allura's keen hearing hears movement, though by his steps, it would have been difficult to ignore. She watches from the shadows for a moment, finding one of the men who arrived earlier that day. She can hear her father's voice in her head begging her to move on--there would be plenty of time to speak with the others during the council. And shouldn't she be in bed at this hour?
As she often did of late, she ignored it.
When his gaze settles on a painting, Allura silently makes her entrance, the soft fabric of her dress a whisper above the stone of the floor. She rounds the man from behind, clasping her fingers together at her waist. She, too, regards the painting for a quiet moment. Then she speaks, ]
[ There's a hot moment Lance looks like a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar, lurching forward with a flush, and then another hotter moment that he spins around, hand reaching for his sword to defend himself if may be.
But when he's spun around, the elvish calm washes over him, a little spellbound as he relaxes in front of this stranger. He didn't need to look hard to know he was approached by a local and... Oh, he is not let down by the legends. Elves are a beautiful folk, but he thinks perhaps he's looking at the fairest of any elf he has seen since his arrival. He smirks a little more confidently. ] I mean, of course it is. Who hasn't heard the legends of the great King in this age? In any age, really. Doesn't take a scholar to figure out–Not that I'm less than a scholar. Gondor's rich lineage is just that, uhh... pervasive.
[ That's the last big word you ever hear out of him. He's just. He's trying to make himself look cool. Shut up! ]
You, uh, fair folk are as sneaky as the legends tell. [ he offers his hand to her and, after taking it, bows low to her until his head touches her knuckles. He has no idea that she's the daughter of a Lord, but still gives her a most royal hello. ] Lance, son of Denethor II, steward of Gondor. It's quite late even for your people, isn't it?
[ Allura would be lying if she said that hadn't been the sort of reaction she had been waiting for, though the slight fond narrowing of her eyes would be the only outward indication. She simply waits for the man to find himself, patient as one would expect of her kind. ]
Pervasive? Indeed it is.
[ Of course she is well-versed in that particular lineage, though for a more personal reason than most of her kin. He's not in the armor one would see in battle, but based on the patterns of his shirt and tunic, she can tell that he is not just a member of the Guard, but someone of status as well.
"Sneaky"? There's a slight raise to her brow, but she seems no less amused. She does offer her hand. Strange though his speech is, he does have some manners, it seems, and when he divulges his title, it makes quite a bit of sense. ]
It is a pleasure to meet you, Lance, son of Denethor.
[ Titles are important, but under the guise of night and without accord in her more casual evening gown, she forgoes them entirely to simply be Allura. ]
I am Allura.
[ When he rises, he'll find that she's turned her gaze out towards the open archways of the room that look out onto the cliffside and surrounding gardens. Moonlight trickles in where candles or torches might. ]
It is late into the evening, or perhaps early into the morning. But the Eldar do have a fondness for starlight.
[ Allura settles her gaze back on Lance and steps forward, running her fingers delicately along the edges of the painting, illuminated by the night sky. ]
Allura... [ He echoes and smirks. ] A name as fair as your kin. [ Wonk wonk.
His eyes follower her delicate movements, especially at her fingertips as they brush the art. Now that she's entered the light more clearly, he notes the especially elegant look of her garb and the gestures in her hands. Hot dog! You don't meet a lady like this even in the highest courts of Gondor. But under her elegance, he feels a little choked on his words, feeling less of his flirtatious zeal for a moment. Give it time; he'll collect himself into his usual, shameless self.... ]
Yeah, it's uh... it's nice. [ He moves himself like an actor to a new box, eyes on the painting. ] Looks brand new, but I'm guessing it's ancient, huh? Start of the Third Age or whatever. [ He stops to regard it, then slides to the opposite side of the painting from Allura's location, pressing his shoulder into the wall as he casts his eyes up into the soft moonlight. ]
You guys got nice digs, you know. Thought for a moment I was under a whole new sky when I showed up. Feels, uh, what's the word.... Heavenly, I guess? Except, like, even prettier.
[ She's aware of the fact that some Men are gifted with a silver tongue, but Allura is surprised to hear the son of the Steward speak so casually. Surprised, but refreshed at the same time. It's new and she's always been curious and hungry for new experiences and knowledge, much to the deterrent of her family.
Allura nods at his appraisal, letting her hand fall down to her side. ]
You have a good eye.
[ Or a lucky guess, but she can afford the compliment.
"Digs" isn't a word she is sure she understands, but she can gather he's speaking of their little valley by the rest of his description. Allura gives a small, thoughtful hum as she lifts her gaze to join his towards the sky. Moonlight has been her favorite source of light for some time. ]
Several corridors were designed not only to follow the natural flow of the forest and cliffs, but also so that the sky would always be visible from any wing.
[ Her gaze doesn't stay on the sky for long. She has seen that many times. But he is new. ]
He nods along to her statement, and then he's surprised by her question ]
Well, tch, yeah. [ Said so matter of fact. ] What else would guide men along paths without roads to safer havens, am I right? [ He pauses, hooking his thumbs onto the belt at his hips. ] And, I 'unno. Guess I kinda' fell for some of the scholarly stuff behind it. Like what's up there? Why's it all up there? How'd it get there? It's still so new... barely anyone has looked that far into the sky, but the scrolls are unbelievable [ he breathes out affectionately. ] Man, what I'd give to be a song bird and fly that high to see those lights up close.
[ There's a genuine pause before he bows his head and laughs at himself. ] Ah, but that's all lame wishes, right? I'm just as happy to swing a sword as I think I might be as a bird.
[ Allura listens attentively, a little surprised but pleased by his curiosity in something that she holds so dear. The Elves may not be known for their warmth towards others, yet Allura finds herself smiling easily.
It gives her an idea. One that she ought not follow.
Which, of course, means that she will. ]
I can help you fly.
[ Cryptic. ]
Follow me. And quickly! We must be silent and swift.
[ With that, she turns, padding quietly out of the room, leaving the sway of her hair and gown behind her as she disappears down the corridor. Allura only pauses once to check to see if he follows--and she believes that he will--and leads him to a room that is built around the boughs of a particularly large tree, growing right out of the cliff face. It stretches upwards, passing through a large hole in the ceiling, clearly left to accommodate it for years to come. ]
[ Breakfast was served early in the morning, as per elvish custom. Nearly all the guests attend, though it's told more are arriving just before the meeting. Alfor is a gracious host, a little friendlier than the elves are known for, and he seems to be on good terms with the Wizard Shiro. Allura is not there.
In the late morning, all gather on a large terrace, round and flowing from several open arches of the main building. The east side of the terrace remains open to the forests and cliffs of the land it sits on, the view of the waterfall that runs under the western portion of the residence easily visible. The sun is slowly climbing the sky and the air has warmed slightly, but fall is clearly settling in. Orange and yellow leaves dance about and crunch beneath boots as guests take their seats.
Alfor stands by his chair at the front, wooden and delicately carved. Men sit to his right, placed in two rows of chairs. The elves sit directly across from Alfor, settling into their chairs with silent grace. A small group of Dwarves has attended as well, flanking the elves begrudgingly, while Shiro and a Halfing sit on the far left.
Allura enters with the elves, chatting lightly with a tall man with bright orange hair--uncharacteristic, but hard to miss. She is dressed far more appropriately than she had been the night before and wears a golden circlet on her forehead. A squick glance is spared towards Lance, but she otherwise keeps to herself and her friend. ]
"Everyone, please be seated."
[ Alfor gestures to the crowd and takes a seat himself. All follow suit. ]
"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate–this one doom. "
[ He gestures to a pedestal in the center of the terrace. ]
[ Keith came early to the council, in part because he wished to join the at the same time as his dear friend Shiro; in part that he could not sleep well even despite the legendary comfort of elvish beds. He watches as each new person enters the circle, eyes leery, almost distrustful of the new faces. At best, he gauges and mentally notes his trust levels based on how well each person is received by those he knows here; Shiro's opinion matters first most, then Corans, and lastly Allura's, who he has known the least of the three, but he can admit to himself that he was captured by her beauty and light at the ford where she saved him.
When the council settles, he listens, but doesn't move immediately when his name is called. HIs heart races unti he hears that soft voice from his friend: "Go on, Keith." So he stands, fingers fisted tight until he's at the pedestal between them all. From his neck, he draws a chain over his head and lays what hangs from it down on the granite. The ring of power.
He casts a brief look at Alfor as the group starts to murmur and finally returns to his seat, an empty burden weighing on his heart. ]
[ All eyes are on Keith--on the Ring. It isn't the first time that Allura has seen it--nor Alfor--but having it so simple and out in the open is a change. And looking upon it she can feel the weight of its power. All the Elves can.
But...she knows of a different reason. A potential weakness. And looks away.
Alfor leans forward slightly in his seat.
An elf on the other side of Allura pulls back, as if mildly disgusted. ]
[ Shiro watches Keith with silent support and approval, laying a hand on the Halfing's shoulder once he's returned. The silence across the council is expected, but the comment from the Elves quickly draws his attention. He's spent much time among them, especially in this place with it's wealth of knowledge and the reputation of a slightly eccentric Elven King. Here, he would expect more caution and understanding.
His brows hang heavier on his forehead. ]
Of us all, if we're not careful.
[ His hand tightens on his staff.
He's here not for Man--he's here for Middle Earth. ]
[ Pardon Lance as he utterly, miserably, pathetically Fails to Read The Goddamn Air. His eyebrow cocks, his lips purse, he stares at this ring that, for no particularly good reason in his honest opinion, is being made a huge deal out of. It should come to him, son of the Steward of Gondor and all, but it doesn't. He guffaws: ]
Seriously, guys? A ring? That's what all this is about? We all travelled miles upon miles to ooo and ahh over a ring? [ A laugh finally slips out of him, floored in many ways. ]
[ The Council goes silent. There is doubtlessly a grumble from the side of Men at such brash and uninformed talk. Alfor frowns as he shifts his attention to Lance. ]
"This is no simple piece of jewelry..."
[ It's Allura who speaks up, her gaze less friendly than it had been the night before. This is Work, after all. ]
This is the Ring. The One Ring to rule them all, Lance, Son of the Steward. And it should not be taken lightly.
"My daughter speaks the truth. This is that One Ring."
[ Do you know how called out Lance feels right now? "Lance, son of the steward"!!! The nerve!!! He flushes, folds his arms across his chest, and melts into the chair like maybe, MAYBE SOME HOW, that might make him disappear from this truly horrendous moment in his life.
Don't worry, he'll be back to make the Next Stupid Comment, rest assured. ]
"And why not!" [ cries an indignant dwarf. ] "Is this place not safe from his eye? Every other corner of middle earth is infested with his soldiers. We may as well be handing it to him taking it from this place.
"Stay your words, dwarf," [ retorts an elf, ] "The only promise your desires would bring is more darkness to this land!"
"Yes, a land your people are already abandoning!" [ A man near Lance adds. ]
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AU NOTES
General notes
allura - aragorn (f)
shiro - gandalf (f)
lance - boromir > legolas (n)
coran - gimli (n)
keith - frodo (n)
hunk - samwise (f)
pidge - pippin
matt - merry
alfor - Elrond
sam - theodin
romelle - eowyn
krolia - bilbo
veronica - faramir
zarkon - sauron
haggar - sarumon
lotor - galadriel
acxa -
kaltenecker the pony
Gondor, castle referred to as "the castle of lions
lonce
keith gets notice to go to the prancing pony and takes hunk there, pidge and matt join in bc theyre trouble like that; and at the prancing pony instead of meeting shiro they meet coran instead–aragorn style–who (as an elf) decides to take them to alfor
lonce
and so, after being attacked at weathertop, they meet allura in the same manner as arwen
Lance
Veronica takes on the role of Faramir
For the most part keeping Boromir's background, except that...
- keeping his family size – mother still died when lance was 10. his older siblings fucked off bc their father is a douche, but he keeps close to them
- veronica is still the older sister, favoured by their father; she defended her little brother for many years and inspired his growth
- lance left to the council of elrond to prove to himself and others that he was made for greatness
"gondor has no king, gondor needs no king" - boromir during the council (HMMM)
Allura
- 87 Y.O. at beginning of this journey. Mother was probably around that age when she died (Dunedain, so long life.) Mom last in the "pure" line to the throne of Gondor.
- Has a dress for every season.
- Has read every book daddy has.
- Still ready to throw down if provoked, but diplomacy first.
- Always been curious about her human heritage. Been open exploring the wilds and meeting new people. Alfor had been cool and supportive of adventuring until more recent times when shit gets more gloomy. Then he wants her closer at home. (She thinks it's because he's planning to leave with other Elves and he knows She's Not About That.)
- DESPITE THAT SHE STILL GOES OUT SOMETIMES!! especially if other elves are going out on patrol. That's how she found the Hobbits and brought them back to Rivendell where Alfor made sure Keith didn't die with a weird 90s montage sequence.
Coran, Coran, the gorgeous man!!!
works at the smithy, very fond of building and crafting weaponry, an eye for riches
Shiro the...gray?
Shiro the White
Zarkon
Hunk
the goodest boy
keith i'm here for you buddy
Keith
- not actually 100% hobbit, krolia is either not a hobbit or only half hobbit im just not sure
- he grew up feeling as an outsider to the life of a hobbit, but tried to live with the discontent. generally considered a misfit among hobbits
after receiving the ring, his dreams of leaving hobbiton grew
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Gazing on a painting, he reflects on the old stories of his people–an image of the battle that finally laid the Dark Lord to rest. He touches its surface–the paint looked as fresh as the day the first stroke was laid on its surface. No doubt some elven magic or material kept it so clean. ]
Must be Elendil? [ He mutters. He can't read elvish, but looks at the plaque that denotes the picture. ]
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And she did, for the most part. There were certain halls of the House of Alfor that Allura frequented, parts of her history that were less discussed, if at all. It is in one such room that Allura's keen hearing hears movement, though by his steps, it would have been difficult to ignore. She watches from the shadows for a moment, finding one of the men who arrived earlier that day. She can hear her father's voice in her head begging her to move on--there would be plenty of time to speak with the others during the council. And shouldn't she be in bed at this hour?
As she often did of late, she ignored it.
When his gaze settles on a painting, Allura silently makes her entrance, the soft fabric of her dress a whisper above the stone of the floor. She rounds the man from behind, clasping her fingers together at her waist. She, too, regards the painting for a quiet moment. Then she speaks, ]
Yes. His final stand against the Dark Lord.
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But when he's spun around, the elvish calm washes over him, a little spellbound as he relaxes in front of this stranger. He didn't need to look hard to know he was approached by a local and... Oh, he is not let down by the legends. Elves are a beautiful folk, but he thinks perhaps he's looking at the fairest of any elf he has seen since his arrival. He smirks a little more confidently. ] I mean, of course it is. Who hasn't heard the legends of the great King in this age? In any age, really. Doesn't take a scholar to figure out–Not that I'm less than a scholar. Gondor's rich lineage is just that, uhh... pervasive.
[ That's the last big word you ever hear out of him. He's just. He's trying to make himself look cool. Shut up! ]
You, uh, fair folk are as sneaky as the legends tell. [ he offers his hand to her and, after taking it, bows low to her until his head touches her knuckles. He has no idea that she's the daughter of a Lord, but still gives her a most royal hello. ] Lance, son of Denethor II, steward of Gondor. It's quite late even for your people, isn't it?
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Pervasive? Indeed it is.
[ Of course she is well-versed in that particular lineage, though for a more personal reason than most of her kin. He's not in the armor one would see in battle, but based on the patterns of his shirt and tunic, she can tell that he is not just a member of the Guard, but someone of status as well.
"Sneaky"? There's a slight raise to her brow, but she seems no less amused. She does offer her hand. Strange though his speech is, he does have some manners, it seems, and when he divulges his title, it makes quite a bit of sense. ]
It is a pleasure to meet you, Lance, son of Denethor.
[ Titles are important, but under the guise of night and without accord in her more casual evening gown, she forgoes them entirely to simply be Allura. ]
I am Allura.
[ When he rises, he'll find that she's turned her gaze out towards the open archways of the room that look out onto the cliffside and surrounding gardens. Moonlight trickles in where candles or torches might. ]
It is late into the evening, or perhaps early into the morning. But the Eldar do have a fondness for starlight.
[ Allura settles her gaze back on Lance and steps forward, running her fingers delicately along the edges of the painting, illuminated by the night sky. ]
Do you see? It even softens the fires of war.
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His eyes follower her delicate movements, especially at her fingertips as they brush the art. Now that she's entered the light more clearly, he notes the especially elegant look of her garb and the gestures in her hands. Hot dog! You don't meet a lady like this even in the highest courts of Gondor. But under her elegance, he feels a little choked on his words, feeling less of his flirtatious zeal for a moment. Give it time; he'll collect himself into his usual, shameless self.... ]
Yeah, it's uh... it's nice. [ He moves himself like an actor to a new box, eyes on the painting. ] Looks brand new, but I'm guessing it's ancient, huh? Start of the Third Age or whatever. [ He stops to regard it, then slides to the opposite side of the painting from Allura's location, pressing his shoulder into the wall as he casts his eyes up into the soft moonlight. ]
You guys got nice digs, you know. Thought for a moment I was under a whole new sky when I showed up. Feels, uh, what's the word.... Heavenly, I guess? Except, like, even prettier.
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Allura nods at his appraisal, letting her hand fall down to her side. ]
You have a good eye.
[ Or a lucky guess, but she can afford the compliment.
"Digs" isn't a word she is sure she understands, but she can gather he's speaking of their little valley by the rest of his description. Allura gives a small, thoughtful hum as she lifts her gaze to join his towards the sky. Moonlight has been her favorite source of light for some time. ]
Several corridors were designed not only to follow the natural flow of the forest and cliffs, but also so that the sky would always be visible from any wing.
[ Her gaze doesn't stay on the sky for long. She has seen that many times. But he is new. ]
Do you enjoy the stars, Lance, son of Denethor?
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He nods along to her statement, and then he's surprised by her question ]
Well, tch, yeah. [ Said so matter of fact. ] What else would guide men along paths without roads to safer havens, am I right? [ He pauses, hooking his thumbs onto the belt at his hips. ] And, I 'unno. Guess I kinda' fell for some of the scholarly stuff behind it. Like what's up there? Why's it all up there? How'd it get there? It's still so new... barely anyone has looked that far into the sky, but the scrolls are unbelievable [ he breathes out affectionately. ] Man, what I'd give to be a song bird and fly that high to see those lights up close.
[ There's a genuine pause before he bows his head and laughs at himself. ] Ah, but that's all lame wishes, right? I'm just as happy to swing a sword as I think I might be as a bird.
no subject
It gives her an idea. One that she ought not follow.
Which, of course, means that she will. ]
I can help you fly.
[ Cryptic. ]
Follow me. And quickly! We must be silent and swift.
[ With that, she turns, padding quietly out of the room, leaving the sway of her hair and gown behind her as she disappears down the corridor. Allura only pauses once to check to see if he follows--and she believes that he will--and leads him to a room that is built around the boughs of a particularly large tree, growing right out of the cliff face. It stretches upwards, passing through a large hole in the ceiling, clearly left to accommodate it for years to come. ]
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THE COUNCIL OF ALFOR
In the late morning, all gather on a large terrace, round and flowing from several open arches of the main building. The east side of the terrace remains open to the forests and cliffs of the land it sits on, the view of the waterfall that runs under the western portion of the residence easily visible. The sun is slowly climbing the sky and the air has warmed slightly, but fall is clearly settling in. Orange and yellow leaves dance about and crunch beneath boots as guests take their seats.
Alfor stands by his chair at the front, wooden and delicately carved. Men sit to his right, placed in two rows of chairs. The elves sit directly across from Alfor, settling into their chairs with silent grace. A small group of Dwarves has attended as well, flanking the elves begrudgingly, while Shiro and a Halfing sit on the far left.
Allura enters with the elves, chatting lightly with a tall man with bright orange hair--uncharacteristic, but hard to miss. She is dressed far more appropriately than she had been the night before and wears a golden circlet on her forehead. A squick glance is spared towards Lance, but she otherwise keeps to herself and her friend. ]
"Everyone, please be seated."
[ Alfor gestures to the crowd and takes a seat himself. All follow suit. ]
"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate–this one doom. "
[ He gestures to a pedestal in the center of the terrace. ]
"Bring forth the Ring, Keith."
no subject
When the council settles, he listens, but doesn't move immediately when his name is called. HIs heart races unti he hears that soft voice from his friend: "Go on, Keith." So he stands, fingers fisted tight until he's at the pedestal between them all. From his neck, he draws a chain over his head and lays what hangs from it down on the granite. The ring of power.
He casts a brief look at Alfor as the group starts to murmur and finally returns to his seat, an empty burden weighing on his heart. ]
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But...she knows of a different reason. A potential weakness. And looks away.
Alfor leans forward slightly in his seat.
An elf on the other side of Allura pulls back, as if mildly disgusted. ]
"The Doom of Man."
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His brows hang heavier on his forehead. ]
Of us all, if we're not careful.
[ His hand tightens on his staff.
He's here not for Man--he's here for Middle Earth. ]
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Seriously, guys? A ring? That's what all this is about? We all travelled miles upon miles to ooo and ahh over a ring? [ A laugh finally slips out of him, floored in many ways. ]
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"This is no simple piece of jewelry..."
[ It's Allura who speaks up, her gaze less friendly than it had been the night before. This is Work, after all. ]
This is the Ring. The One Ring to rule them all, Lance, Son of the Steward. And it should not be taken lightly.
"My daughter speaks the truth. This is that One Ring."
[ One of the Elves speaks up, ]
Such evil to be brought into our land...
"And it will not stay here."
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Don't worry, he'll be back to make the Next Stupid Comment, rest assured. ]
"And why not!" [ cries an indignant dwarf. ] "Is this place not safe from his eye? Every other corner of middle earth is infested with his soldiers. We may as well be handing it to him taking it from this place.
"Stay your words, dwarf," [ retorts an elf, ] "The only promise your desires would bring is more darkness to this land!"
"Yes, a land your people are already abandoning!" [ A man near Lance adds. ]
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