Elrond gazes down at the slender dark-haired hobbit walking among a scatter of red and gold autumn leaves with his three companions. Light emanates from him, clear and sharp as the gleam along the blade of a well-polished sword. There is strength in Frodo Baggins, he thinks again, surprising strength for one so small.
At the forges, Elven smiths labour day and night, readying the blade that was broken for battle. Yet it is this most unlikely of weapons, one tempered at a different forge, that may overthrow the might of Sauron, and neither bend nor break in the task.