"No."
Boromir's refusal sounded cold and ruthless, but his head was positively warm, bobbing like a rattle.
Putting aside whether the moment was appropriate, just looking at the armour that radiated heat, if you hugged him carelessly you'd likely get burned. For some reason, though, that interruption loosened Boromir's mood considerably.
Where did this inexplicable relaxation come from?
Well, not bad.
He leaned back against the stone chair and fell into thought.
Gondor was not without allies.
Garrett, a man Boromir himself had seen only a few times but whose family was on friendly terms with his, would truly help if trouble came.
Boromir became aware of that.
This was no joke.
A kindly, dependable person from his great-grandfather's generation. One had to admit, it was reassuring. But that generation of his great-grandfather...
Boromir glanced at Aragorn, then at Garrett.
What on earth was he?
There was no more time to ponder. The council moved quickly to the next phase.
First, everyone agreed on one point: no ordinary means could threaten the One Ring. It could only be destroyed in the Cracks of Doom within Mount Doom.
Garrett had tested that and tried every method he could to destroy it. None worked.
Then there was Gimli.
The somewhat hot-tempered Dwarf, upon hearing that this seemingly pure-gold ring could not be destroyed, reacted with disbelief.
He immediately swung his massive, sturdy steel axe at it, and the force from the Ring shattered his axe into fragments and sent him flying.
Luckily Aragorn and Legolas behind him rose in time to catch him. Otherwise he would have tumbled far down the steps.
"Let go of me!" Gimli protested angrily, kicking. At the moment he was being held awkwardly in midair between the two of them.
Everyone exchanged glances.
Garrett, looking at the Ring, offered his own view.
In a sense, the Ring's hardness could be compared to bedrock: bedrock's hardness is, so to speak, negative. By the rules it is indestructible unless another rule of the same level or higher appears.
Destroying this thing would require the right mechanism.
After verifying that ordinary means indeed could not destroy the One Ring, discussion resumed.
Someone proposed sending the Ring to Valinor for the Valar and the Elves of Valinor to guard it, but, setting aside possible obstruction at sea, no one could guarantee the Ring wouldn't cause trouble there.
The Valar themselves would not care for such a trinket, of course, but there were many ordinary beings there besides the Valar. The plan was not very reliable.
That proposal was rejected, and someone then mentioned Garrett.
Another suggestion was to send the Ring to Wayfort for strict guarding, but that too was not wise and was quickly turned down by those present, including Garrett.
Yes, Garrett did have the means to completely seal the Ring away, to lock it up like the Orthanc crystal so that no one but him could touch it, not even Sauron in person.
But doing so was essentially no different from sending it to Valinor: both plans amounted to finding some place to seal the Ring away.
Gandalf then spoke his view, "The seas may turn to fields and no one can foresee what will happen later. Our responsibility is not to think only of the moment, or of a few generations of Men, or of a single age of the world. We must seek a final solution to this threat, even if that is difficult to achieve."
Elrond said solemnly, "It must be taken into the heart of Mordor and thrown into those fires and destroyed."
A brief silence followed their words. Everyone waited for the last person to speak.
Garrett's tone was calm: "I agree. It should be destroyed."
"One of us must bear the Ring and carry it to Mordor."
And so the general direction of the council was decided. Everything that followed revolved around how to destroy the One Ring, and who would serve as its bearer.
"Mordor is not a place one simply walks into," Boromir said, holding his head. "Monsters more fearsome than orcs guard the Black Gate. Evil never sleeps upon that land. The Eye is ever watchful... And the other way in, that barren, lifeless waste, Minas Morgul, is filled with deep pits, thick smoke, fire, and poison that chokes every inch of air. Breathe it in even a little, and you'll wish for death. Even leading ten thousand soldiers, twenty thousand, thirty thousand, it would be futile. Foolish, even."
Even if those soldiers were not from Gondor, but from the North.
Boromir did not speak that last thought aloud.
"Did you not hear what Lord Elrond and Garrett said? The Ring must be destroyed!"
The hot-tempered Legolas immediately stood up to retort.
Boromir gave a short laugh and shook his head.
He remembered all those sleepless nights, standing on the border with sword in hand, gazing toward Mordor's black lands, and that fiery Eye that spanned the distance to meet his gaze. He remembered the struggle, the grinding of teeth against despair.
This Elf didn't understand. He had never seen any of that.
Boromir suddenly rose, angry. "And if we fail? What if the enemy reclaims the Ring?"
"I don't think an Elf can take responsibility for this," Gimli added fuel to the fire.
That spark blew up the entire room.
Garrett looked toward the Ring lying in the centre of the stone table, realizing it was working again.
It never missed a chance to sow chaos among those around it.
As the situation spiralled out of control, Gandalf quickly stood to stop them.
"While you argue, Sauron's power continues to grow! We cannot fall into meaningless quarrels here!"
By now, only a few remained seated.
Elrond sat with his hands clasped together, lowering his head with another sigh.
Glorfindel leaned back in his chair, hands resting on his knees, watching the quarrelling group in silence.
Garrett looked around thoughtfully.
Frodo seemed dazed.
The Ring had to be destroyed. That much was decided. But someone still had to carry it, and that choice needed care.
Garrett and Glorfindel were out of the question, not for lack of trust, but because if either of them fell, the consequences would be catastrophic, even worse than Sauron himself.
The wizards were out too. Gandalf had already explained why.
"I will go."
Unexpectedly, Bilbo was the first to stand. Tugging at Gandalf's sleeve as he argued with another, he said, "Since all this trouble began with me, let me end it. I'll take the Ring to Mordor."
Gandalf shook his head. "No, Bilbo. You've done enough already. You carried the Ring too long. You must not take it again. Not unless you wish to become like Gollum."
"Oh!" Bilbo clutched his chest and shook his head rapidly.
No, that wouldn't do. Becoming Gollum would be far too dreadful.
The arguing went on.
Unable to make out the words, Frodo found himself looking toward Garrett, who met his gaze and smiled.
Something stirred within him, and he asked quietly, "Will it be... a journey with beautiful sights?"
"You've decided, then?"
"Yes. I've decided," Frodo nodded.
The moment pulled him back decades, to an unprepared birthday party, when Garrett had given him a special gift.
A journey and an adventure, one whose timing Frodo himself would choose, and whose path Garrett would arrange.
Yes, he had decided.
Only, the journey he was choosing today did not seem so beautiful, nor its end so bright.
"I will take it!"
Taking a deep breath, Frodo stood and stepped forward toward the others.