Rise (Lord of the Rings)

14 - Last Night in Rivendell

Not too long after the Fellowship was formed, everyone agreed that we'd start the journey to Mordor tomorrow at dawn.

When the Fellowship had disbanded, Frodo and I sought out Bilbo. It was Frodo's idea, not mine.

After explaining what had gone on, my adoptive father went into action. He brought out a decent sized sack and laid it on his bed.

"My old sword Sting," Bilbo murmured, revealing a small weapon. I couldn't see the blade because it was put away. It didn't look any different to the ones Frodo and I were given by Strider—Aragorn—whatever I would call him from now on. That little revelation was still stuck in my mind.

"Sting?" I repeated. "You gave the sword a name?"

"This sword is special, Marlena. It deserves its name. Here, take it, take it."

Frodo pulled the sword out from its sheath. He tested it in his right hand. "It's so light," he whispered.

"Yes. Made by the Elves, you know," Bilbo said proudly. "The blade glows blue when Orcs are close. And it's times like that, you two, when you have to be extra careful."

"Well, if I'm taking this sword, you can take the old one Aragorn gave me, Marlena," Frodo decided. "You might as well have two on you."

"Is that so I can protect myself better?" I retorted, raising an eyebrow at him. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're giving me that sword for that purpose."

"It's good to have a spare."

"Yes, but it's also good to have one when you'll be the main target for the Wraiths, Orcs, or whatever comes after us."

"No offense, but I think I'd be better off with Sting than two swords."

"What makes you think I'd be good with two? I can barely hold one with one hand, let alone have one in each hand."

"You might lose one, who knows?"

"He's right," Bilbo sided with his nephew. "You never know what will happen. Oh! I almost forgot." He dug through the sack to reveal some sort of undershirt. It almost looked like armor. "Here's a pretty thing. Mithril. As light as a feather, and as hard as dragon scales."

"You can't give that to me," I told Frodo sternly.

"I wasn't going to try," he retorted defensively.

"Let me see you put it on," Bilbo told Frodo. "Come on."

I tested the weight of Sting as Frodo unbuttoned his shirt a little so he could put the Mithril on. The sword was indeed light. If only the swords I possessed were as light as this.

"Oh," Bilbo realized. I stared at him, setting Sting back down on the bed. "My old ring." My gaze stuck on my adoptive father. "I should very much like to hold it again, one last time."

"I don't think that's a good idea," I said carefully, going to him.

"I just want to only hold it one more time, Marlena. Be reasonable now, dear."

"I am, and I'm saying you shouldn't be near it."

For an old Hobbit, Bilbo had some speed left in him. He stalked quickly, giving an unnatural growl and went for Frodo and the Ring. Frodo wisely backed up, Bilbo stopped himself.