I’m a Doorman at an Assassin’s Hotel

Sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows of Rivendell's council hall, casting vibrant colors on the faces of those gathered. Seated at the central seat of honor, Elrond surveyed the assembly with a calm, discerning gaze. Representatives from Lothlórien and the Woodland Realm had arrived, their expressions marked with deep thought and concern.

To one side of the room sat Aragorn, Sam, Lorne, and Elyssa. Their presence felt somewhat out of place among the gathered Elves, but Elrond had insisted they remain. The matters at hand concerned the fate of all Middle-earth.

"My friends," Elrond began, his voice solemn and resolute, "Sauron's power grows ever stronger. The One Ring is in his hands, and the threat to Middle-earth has reached its zenith. I have convened this council to determine the future of the Elves."

A heavy silence followed, broken first by Celeborn of Lothlórien. "Elrond, our people have long been in decline. To remain in Middle-earth may exact too great a toll. You know as well as I do: if we entangle ourselves in this war, it may spell the end of the Elves entirely."

Another Elven lord nodded in agreement. "We should take our people westward. This is the time to depart, not to waver in the face of a doomed conflict."

Glorfindel, however, stood firm. "Depart? If we leave, Middle-earth will fall, and darkness will consume this land. No one, not even those in the West, can escape its reach."

The debate grew increasingly heated, with the Elven leaders dividing into two camps. Tension filled the air as their voices rose, the weight of their arguments pressing down on the room. Sitting silently among them, Lorne listened intently, his mind racing. Finally, he drew a deep breath and stood.

"Excuse me," Lorne said, his voice carrying across the hall. All eyes turned to him, the unexpected interruption silencing the room. "I know I have no right to influence your decisions, but I'd like to say something—because I come from a place that has already lost its light."

The starkness of his words hung in the air, and the Elves' attention fixed on him.

"Sauron's darkness is not just war," Lorne continued, swallowing hard to steady himself. "It's the destruction of hope itself. I understand your fears—fear for the future of your people, fear that the fires of war will destroy what remains of your legacy. But if we give up now, we'll leave a world defenseless against Sauron. And darkness doesn't stop expanding—it will follow you, even across the sea."

Celeborn frowned slightly, his gaze steady. "Young man, your conviction is admirable, but you cannot understand. The bond between the Elves and Middle-earth has already begun to fade. War will only hasten our decline."

Lorne met his gaze unflinchingly. "Maybe I don't fully understand. But I know one thing: those who fall fighting at least die with hope. Those who run will live forever in fear and regret."

Elrond's expression was thoughtful as he observed Lorne, silently weighing his words.

"And besides," Lorne added, a touch of self-deprecating humor slipping into his tone, "Dr. Cooper's plan might sound insane, but it has a chance of success. If the Elves choose to leave, who will execute this plan? Us 'ordinary' humans?"

"The sealing plan?" Celeborn's expression turned contemplative. "Even so, how can we guarantee its success?"

"No one can guarantee it will succeed," Lorne said, his tone firm. "But if we don't try, failure is already certain."

Glorfindel stood, nodding. "He's right. Doing nothing is the greatest failure. Elrond, we must make a choice."

The hall fell silent once more as each leader turned inward, grappling with the weight of their decision. Finally, Elrond rose from his seat, his deep gaze sweeping across the room.

"Lorne is correct," he said, his voice steady and commanding. "None of us can escape Sauron's shadow. Even if the road ahead is fraught with danger, we cannot abandon it. The Elves will stand with the free peoples of Middle-earth."

The proclamation resonated through the hall. Several lords nodded in agreement, though Celeborn's expression remained conflicted. At last, he sighed. "If this is the final decision, then Lothlórien will join the fight."

Lorne exhaled in relief, feeling his knees threaten to buckle. From behind him, Elyssa muttered dryly, "Well, you're not entirely useless."

"Don't praise me too much," Lorne whispered back. "I can't handle it…"

After the council adjourned, the Elves dispersed in small groups, leaving behind Rivendell's quiet serenity and the faint murmur of the wind. Seeking a moment to collect himself, Lorne wandered to an outdoor pavilion. The pressure of persuading the Elves had finally lifted, and he felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him.

"Your words were impressive," a gentle yet commanding voice said from behind him.

Lorne turned to see a graceful woman clad in a silver-white gown. Her golden hair gleamed like sunlight, and her penetrating gaze seemed to see straight through him.

"Lady Galadriel…" Lorne straightened instinctively, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "Uh, thank you, but I was just saying what I thought might help."

"Just saying?" Galadriel let out a soft laugh, stepping closer to him. "Such candidness is rare among the Elves. You may underestimate your importance, young human."

Lorne shifted uncomfortably. The presence of the Elven Lady was overwhelming, her aura almost tangible. "Honestly, I just wanted to get people moving. You know as well as I do that the longer we wait, the harder it'll be to stop Sauron."

Galadriel's gaze softened, though it remained piercing. Her voice was like a clear spring, both soothing and profound. "It is this urgency and courage that make humanity remarkable. Unlike the Elves, who are often paralyzed by their long lives, or the Dwarves, who cling stubbornly to the past, you possess the rare gift of action."

Lorne blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "I was just doing what needed to be done."

Galadriel turned to face the distant mountains, her tone taking on a weightier note. "Lorne, your journey will be far more complex than you realize. You bring not only hope but also trials. Remember this moment of conviction, no matter what lies ahead."

"Trials?" Lorne frowned, sensing a deeper meaning in her words. "Are you saying I'll face even greater danger?"

Galadriel's expression remained serene, and she did not answer directly. "Danger is inevitable, but what you must consider is whether you can remain true to yourself when it comes."

Lorne opened his mouth to press further, but Galadriel raised her hand, gently signaling him to stop.

"Rest, young one," she said, her voice as soft as the wind. "The road ahead will be longer than you imagine."

With that, she turned and walked away, her silver-white gown shimmering in the sunlight. Lorne stood rooted in place, watching her retreating figure, a mixture of awe and unease swirling in his chest.

"Stay true to myself…" he murmured, his gaze drifting to the golden-hued mountains in the distance. They stood silent and enigmatic, like a riddle waiting to be solved.

Lorne stood in the pavilion, reflecting on Galadriel's words. Something within him had been stirred—a mix of fear and a growing sense of responsibility. As he sank into thought, familiar footsteps approached from behind.

"Lorne, what are you doing here?" Sam's voice was tinged with fatigue and concern.

Turning, Lorne saw Sam and Elyssa walking toward him. Sam's expression showed traces of frustration, while Elyssa remained as calm and collected as ever, though her gaze carried a hint of curiosity.

"Just… getting some air," Lorne replied with a strained smile. "The atmosphere in that meeting was a bit suffocating."

Sam sighed, tugging at his coat. "Tell me about it! The way those Elves talk—so smart, yet they're still debating whether or not to help. Middle-earth is about to be destroyed, and they're thinking about whether to stay or leave…"

"Sam." Elyssa's voice was steady, cutting him off with a hint of warning. "It's not your place to judge. Every race has its own burdens and choices."

Sam reluctantly fell silent, though the dissatisfaction in his eyes remained clear. He muttered under his breath, "I still don't get why they can't be more decisive, like Gandalf."

Lorne patted Sam's shoulder in an attempt to ease the tension. "Don't be too upset, Sam. At least Elrond is listening to us and considering taking action. That's already a good start."

Elyssa glanced at Lorne, seemingly weighing his words. She said nothing, her gaze drifting toward the distant Rivendell valley.

"Actually, I've been wondering about something," Lorne began hesitantly. "If this mission fails… what's our backup plan?"

Sam froze, while Elyssa's brows furrowed. Her sharp gaze turned to Lorne. "Are you entertaining the possibility of failure?"

"No, no!" Lorne waved his hands defensively. "I mean, what if Sauron regains the One Ring? What options would we have left to stop him?"

Sam's face turned pale, and he stammered, "B-but… we can't fail! If we fail, then… then it's all over, isn't it?"

"Failure isn't an option," Elyssa said coldly, her voice carrying an unyielding certainty. "You already know the consequences. The only thing we can do is give everything we have to succeed. Anything else is irrelevant."

Lorne, struck by her conviction, could only offer a weak smile and nod. "Alright, you've got a point."

Lorne, Elyssa, and Sam made their way through the courtyard toward the great hall. The entrance was lined with Elven guards in gleaming silver armor, their expressions solemn, the atmosphere heavy with tension.

"After much deliberation, the Elves will take part in this war," Elrond's voice resounded through the hall, each word firm and resolute. "But let us be clear—this is not merely the Elves' fight. It is a battle for all free peoples of Middle-earth."

Murmurs spread through the assembly, varying reactions flickering across faces. Most carried expressions of relief and determination.

Elrond's gaze swept over the room before settling on Aragorn. "Arathorn's son, heir to the throne. Are you prepared to embrace your destiny?"

Aragorn stood tall, resolve burning in his eyes. "I am ready to fight for the freedom of Middle-earth, no matter the path ahead."

Elrond nodded and turned to Frodo and Sam. "Hobbits, you are the linchpins of this struggle. The One Ring and the power of the Space Stone must be sealed and destroyed through your efforts."

Sam looked pale, but he nodded firmly. "As long as I can protect Frodo, I'll do anything!"

Frodo managed a weak smile and said softly, "For Middle-earth, I'll bear this burden."

Listening from the sidelines, Lorne felt a complex mix of emotions. These small Hobbits carried such a monumental weight on their shoulders. He glanced at Elyssa, who was gazing sharply across the hall, her eyes as keen as blades.

"Next, you must find someone who can help us," Elrond said, his tone deliberate. "He once witnessed the birth of the Ring and aided us in resisting Sauron. His wisdom may guide our path."

"Who?" Aragorn asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Saruman," Elrond replied.

The hall fell into a stunned silence. Aragorn's expression grew grim, a flicker of unease in his eyes. "Saruman… He's already fallen. Can we trust him?"

Elrond's gaze was steady. "He was once our greatest ally. If we can awaken the remnants of his conscience, he may become our greatest asset."

"And if he refuses?" Elyssa asked coldly.

Elrond turned to her, his voice low but resolute. "Then we will use every means necessary to ensure he does not align with Sauron."

Elrond's gaze swept over the group, settling on Aragorn, Lorne, and Elyssa. "Saruman holds critical knowledge about the Ring. We have no other choice. Regardless of who he has become, his insights are vital to our cause."

Aragorn's frown deepened, his unease evident. "Saruman betrayed us. He chose Sauron. How can we be sure he won't betray us again?"

"We cannot be sure." Elrond's voice carried a hint of weariness and resignation. "But Middle-earth is collapsing around us. We have no time to wait or doubt. Hope often hides in the most perilous places."

"It's too dangerous," Elyssa interjected, her tone frosty, arms crossed. "His allegiance to Sauron is no secret. How can we expect him to change?"

Elrond did not respond immediately, his silent gaze appraising each person's resolve.

The tension in the hall was palpable, the silence punctuated only by the sound of anxious breaths.

Aragorn finally spoke, breaking the stillness. "I'll go, but only because we have no other choice. If there's even a sliver of goodness left in him, we must try. If not… we must be ready for the worst."

Elyssa cast Aragorn a skeptical glance, her voice laced with subtle reproach. "That doesn't sound like you, Aragorn. You're usually the first to doubt."

"Sometimes doubt and hope coexist," Aragorn replied, his tone heavy. "And if there's any chance to stop Sauron, we must take it."

"No, Aragorn," Elrond interjected firmly, his commanding voice brooking no argument. "Your task is to escort the two Hobbits safely to Rohan."

Aragorn hesitated, clearly taken aback. "But Saruman is key. If he must be confronted, I—"

"Your responsibility is to protect Frodo and Sam," Elrond said, his tone unyielding. "Should Sauron's forces threaten Rohan, we will need a leader there to coordinate the defense."

"This is not avoidance, Aragorn; it is trust." Elrond's voice softened slightly, though it retained its gravity. "You are Middle-earth's future king. Your decisions will shape its destiny. Gondor needs you more than the confrontation with Saruman does."

Aragorn looked conflicted, his fists clenching. After a pause, he raised his head. "Gondor is in peril. I understand my duty… but I still question if I'm ready."

"You have been ready for a long time." Elrond's gaze was unwavering, his voice carrying a deep sense of expectation and faith. "You are Isildur's heir, Gondor's rightful king. Middle-earth needs a true leader, not a steward hiding in the shadows of power. Your arrival will be the beacon of hope against Sauron."

Aragorn exhaled slowly, his voice tinged with resignation and determination. "I'll do my best to fulfill my duty. But if this is my last mission… I hope it's to protect Middle-earth, not for the sake of power."

Elrond nodded, a faint smile softening his expression. "Your humility and courage are why you will be a great leader. Gondor's people need you, and so does the future of Middle-earth. Carry this conviction forward, Aragorn."

Aragorn drew a deep breath, then nodded resolutely. "I understand. I'll see it through."

"Good." Elrond turned to address the others. "Our divisions are set. Protecting Frodo and Sam is crucial to ensuring the success of our plans. I trust all of you to give it your all."

The atmosphere in the hall grew heavier, the weight of the mission pressing on everyone present. Hope and sacrifice intertwined, forming the fragile thread on which Middle-earth's fate now rested.