What REALLY Happened at the Council
Part One of the What REALLY Happened Series

Prologue

I know you all think that you know what happened at my father’s council, before the War of the Ring. The second one, anyway. But I’m here to tell you otherwise. I was there, and I saw what really happened. For the less brave, please do not read this. For those of you who are courageous enough to dare to read this, I apologize for any nightmares this may cause.
You have been forewarned. Any massive screaming caused is not liable to fine.

Arwen Undomiel

Chapter One

My pesky brothers were off pranking Glorfindel, (and Glory, so sorry about the whole “I stole your part” thing – it wasn’t my idea, honest! Now, will you please remove the roaches from my bedroom???) I was avoiding them, and my father… well, my father was debating whether or not he should wear purple to this big fancy party he was throwing. He was trying to get my advice, and I was trying to not give him any ideas. It wasn’t going very well. When I told him to avoid the shiny mascara, he decided a disco ball would be better than the normal lighting and promptly ran to the storage closet to find one. He was right in the middle of choosing chip dips when there came a grey rider into our midst. It was Gandalf. He insisted that the party be turned into a council on behalf of the finding of the “One Ring.”
Of course, my father did not like that at all, and told Gandalf so, but the old wizard was adamant. No wild parties. Especially not after the last one where the Alliance celebrated too early and Isildur got too drunk to throw the Ring into the fire. Weak humans. Anyway, the wizard won, and the party turned into a “council of high importance.” Unfortunately, my father had already sent out the invites and the guests were arriving, expecting a big party and getting a boring lecture. Daddy was pleased to use his important voice, though.
Also, who should come but Aragorn. Fancy seeing him after nearly fifty years. He brought some hobbits with him. Short little things, but somewhat charming. Daddy insisted that I didn’t attend because he thought it best to keep me away from Aragorn. No matter. I had all the time in the world (quite literally) to get back at him, the filthy, no-good, dirty-rotten,
Mr.We’ll-get-married-soon-right-after-I-disappear-for-half-a-century Ranger. Eh-hem. Where was I? Right, the council.
Of course, I still saw the council. I was standing on my balcony and I could hear every word. Ha, Daddy forgot- I’m an Elf, too. Super-cool far-hearing and far-seeing is definitely a plus. Anyway, Gandalf droned on and on and on and on for quite awhile, until almost everyone had fallen asleep. Of course, it wasn’t just because he was boring- Elven wine is quite potent. But then he asked the little hobbit- Frodo, I think it was- to “bring forth the Ring.” Then one of the humans, Boromir of Gondor (he insisted we always add the “of Gondor”) pulled himself to attention. But, then, he was still drunk, so I’m not positive he really knew what he was saying.
Anyway, the hobbit “volunteered”- that is to say Gandalf forced him- to take the Ring to Mordor. Then, them being drunk and all, the other hobbits, Boromir, Aragorn (ha! I was hoping he would do something stupid!) and Legolas said they would go with him. Of course, they probably said they wouldn’t, but Gandalf’s ears had quite an amount of wax in them. Either that, or he just wanted them to go because of some grudges. Like when Gimli- no, that’s another story, for another time.
But that is just the beginning. Once Gandalf had left the Council, my father decided to “really start the party.” It didn’t turn out so well. The hobbits got trampled, Boromir attempted to kill Aragorn, (too bad he failed) Legolas disappeared with my very favourite strawberry-kiwi shampoo, and Gimli- well, Gimli was Gimli. Which means he drank. And ate. A lot. The major point is that my father, dignified lord that he is, decided to play “Find the Ring” and they lost it. Of course, no one realized this until after the Fellowship had left and Gandalf had died. Hmmm. Pity it wasn’t that stupid Ranger.
Point being, I had to call my grandmother to give Frodo the real Ring when they reached Lothlorien. I mailed it to her, on my father’s Visa. She was quite upset when she learned she couldn’t keep it, and was even more so when Legolas washed his hair in her Mirror, using my shampoo, of course. So she charged extra on the Visa. Daddy was very angry with me when he found out I used his credit card, but I told him he bought that stuff during the council. He swore never to hold a party again, but what do you think he did as soon as he got to the Havens? Fortunately, he’s not here and he’s never gonna get to read this! Ha! One more point for me. Score: Five thousand, six hundred ninety seven for Arwen, one for Elrond. The one was when he made me marry Aragorn. Or, Estel. Elessar? Whatever his name is.
But there you are. What REALLY happened at my father’s council.