Hello, my amazing readers. Wow guys, it's great to see that people like this fic. Thank you so much for your awesome reviews, fav's and follows. You are all absolutely wonderful! I know that it's taken me long to update, but thanks for being so patient!

ALSO, in response to the wonderful Ninelotus' review, if you see these (1), (2), (3) etc, it just means it's an author note, and you'll need to refer to the bottom to see what they say – if you want to. By the way, there are also gonna be two OC's, but they're not that important and will only feature in this chapter.

REVIEWS

Guest: You're very welcome.

The fallen flames: Haha thanks. Great advice by the way, I'll make sure to keep that in mind in future chapters. I like your idea for the Killua thing (I wanna do it!). Though the "Killua taking out the orc's still-beating hearts" seems like more of a major flex than a necessity to me… not that I mind XD (who am I kidding, I love it when my favourite characters show off).

Whaitea: (I'm just posting most of my reply to you here) Thanks heaps, man. Your reviews are great! Honestly, I haven't thought too hardly about the details of this fic (I'm not smart enough for that), but I hope I write a good enough story line for you and all the other readers to enjoy.

Don't worry, I don't plan on abandoning this... ever (it's possibly to the worst thing an author can do), and I'm sorry about the hiatus – holy shit, I'm really bad at updating at normal times. Also, could you elaborate in your "don't split the party" comment – like, would you rather me diverge from the plot and not let Gandalf die, or don't let Frodo and Sam go off on their own? Anyways, thanks again for the reviews! I appreciate them all! If you have any further queries don't be afraid to PM me.

Ninelotus: Oops, sorry. A bit of a habit of mine, I suppose. I'll just put a number in brackets, like this (1), next to something that I wanna talk about.

Spacemonkey777: Thanks. And yeah, I'll try writing more interactions between those two.

Peoples: Thank you! .

(other) Guest: wow, thanks, I guess? I've been looking for something like this too tbh, but there hasn't been anything, so I just decided to make it myself lol. And of course, I'm gonna put a challenge in there for Gon and Killua (I haven't really decided what yet, but pfft I'll get there… eventually), and I actually like that idea about the Nazgul thing (I might just yoink that for later plot use – I dunno, we'll see). And whether the ring has an effect on Killua and Gon… you'll just have to read future chapters and find out (-;

Rick K'Tish: Thanks heaps man. I'll make sure to keep on keeping, you awesome reader!

Vwheel10: Thanks man. I'm glad you think so. XD

Chapter 4: Peculiar Choices

Elrond. A great Elven lord, highly respected amongst the Elven community for his vast accomplishments and acknowledged as one of the wisest Elves to walk Middle-Earth.

… However, …

This certainly didn't dissuade Killua from feeling completely murderous towards the poor, unassuming Elf lord.

In fact, it meant absolute squat to him.

For some reason, Elrond had felt the need to summon both Hunters to his office at 4 o'clock in the morning, unaware that anyone who disturbed Killua's sleep at all – much less at such an ungodly hour – deserved to suffer a very long and painful death. Especially when said ex-assassin was enjoying a most glorious dream of hunting down his family and collecting their bounties.

Though Gon showed no outward annoyance at being awoken so goddamn early in the morning, the dark bags under his eyes seemed to suggest otherwise.

And so, there the Hunters stood – appearing as dishevelled and annoyed as any normal, sleep-deprived teenager should be - before Elrond, who calmly sat at his desk while resting his chin on his interlocked fingers.

"I suppose you're wondering why I called for you at this time," Elrond finally began talking in a calm voice.

Several tick marks appeared on Killua's head.

"What gave it away?" the white-haired teen grumbled.

"Well, I apologise, but the blacksmiths here in Rivendell prefer to start their work early," Elrond said, casting the still-drowsy Gon an apologetic look.

"Eh? Blacksmiths? What do you mean, Elrond-san?" the green Hunter asked, tilting his head to the side.

"…Hmm, well, by my observations, neither of you were carrying weapons when you arrived in Rivendell, correct?" Elrond suggested, sounding as if he'd made a statement rather than an inquiry.

"Wrong," Killua snorted.

"Wrong?" Elrond repeated dubiously.

The ex-assassin had a feeling this was something that the Elf hadn't been told very often in his life, and so, with a teasing grin plastered on his face, Killua stated very slowly, "Yes. You. Are. Wrong."

Let it be known that no one - not a single soul - would dare speak to the great lord Elrond in such a downgrading manner. And yet, there Elrond sat, stock still as he was thoroughly berated by a thirteen-year-old.

"Of course, we have weapons. Do you really think Gon and I would go prancing around Middle-Earth, a place that we didn't even know existed, without any weapons whatsoever? Baka!" Killua scolded, while happily treading all over the Elf's pride.

"O-oh. I hadn't thought of that," Elrond muttered.

Without a second thought, Killua swiftly grabbed the back collar of Gon's shirt and walked towards the door.

"Come on, Gon. We're done here," Killua deadpanned – 100% done with the Elf Lord's bs.

"No, wait!"

Killua paused and turned back to Elrond, perking an uninterested brow at him as the Elf had gotten up from his chair, hand outstretched. Elrond, having realised how stupid he looked, sat back down and cleared his throat.

"Killua," Gon whined. "Just listen to Elrond-san."

Said Elf dipped his head towards Gon in appreciation.

"Thank you, Gon. Please don't leave yet, Killua," Elrond spoke sternly. "You may already have weapons on hand, however, since you and Gon will be soon departing from Rivendell, I believe it would be best if both of you were to acquire newly forged weapons. After all, you have both travelled so far to help Middle-Earth, and so, to let you depart without expressing our gratitude would be an insult."

The two teenagers looked intrigued.

"Do we get to choose what the weapons are?" Killua's asked, a small smile forming on his face.

"Of course," the Elf lord said.

As he said this, two elves – clearly brothers - walked through the doors. Identical soot-smeared faces smiled kindly at the boys as they awaited their introduction.

Gon tilted his head in confusion but waved in greeting, nonetheless.

"This is Dringol and Magol," Elrond spoke, indicating to the different elves in turn, "Dringol will be forging Killua's weapon, while Magol will be forging Gon's weapon." (1)

Gon basically shone with excitement.

"Ne ne, Killua," Gon whispered to his best friend, "do you think they can replicate our weapons?"

The white-haired boy simply shrugged, placing his hands on the back of his head.

"I dunno, Gon. Maybe they aren't skilled enough to make them?" Killua said with a mischievous smile, fully aware that all the elves present could hear their conversation.

The twins looked at the young boys disbelievingly. Were they unaware that they were the best weapon's craftsmen – or craftselves (?) – in these lands? Both Magol and Dringol smiled widely, happy to welcome any challenge – smiles which Killua was certain were going to disappear once they learn his and Gon's weapons of choice.

Elrond couldn't help but pale as the white-haired teen began to cackle maliciously to himself.

'Eru help us all,' the Elf lord prayed mournfully.

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Not too long after their meeting with Elrond, Killua and Gon followed the brothers to their workshop, where they forge weapons.

Dringol and Magol stood at their separate crafting stations with the two teenagers, identical expressions of incredulity on their faces.

"You want me to make what?" both twins said at the same time.

"A fishing rod," Gon restated, taking out his own 'weapon' and handing it to his assigned craftsmen, "just like this one."

Magol grabbed the rod unsurely, before studying it. The elf's eyes slowly widened as he further examined the pole, feeling that the floater was heavy yet not dense, while the line and rod itself felt more durable than that of any normal fishing rod.

For centuries, both his brother and he worked tirelessly to make themselves familiar with every kind of forging technique, weapon and mineral in order to become as well-versed in the art of smithing as they were today. And yet, the metal which sat in the elf's hands was actually unfamiliar to him – something which the professional blacksmith thought was impossible.

Surely, he'd have heard of the name of the mineral from somewhere.

"If I may be so bold to ask, what is this made of?" Magol asked Gon, inwardly hoping that the boy would answer.

The elf only barely managed to suppress his burning eagerness as he waited for the young son of Man to answer.

If the Elven kingdom were to ever take up arms again, it would be perfect for forging armour as well as swords due to its durable yet light nature. Crafting for a means of war had never made the elf happy, but the possibility alone of the first unknown mineral in centuries filled Magol with excitement.

Unfortunately, all hopes of ever confirming this possibility crashed and burned in a brilliant and glorious display of fire, as Gon ever-so-brightly responded with, "I have no idea."

Magol's shoulder's slumped almost immediately.

"Perhaps then, do you know who made it?" the elf tried hopefully, only to be let down as Gon gave a quick shake of his head.

Deciding to let the matter drop – but not without a disappointed sigh of defeat – Magol began addressing another issue.

"I believe I can replicate something like this, however, are you sure you wouldn't prefer a sword? I assure you; a sword would be much more practical in battle."

Gon hummed in thought.

"Then, can a sword save me from falling from a cliff?" the hunter replied with a question.

The elf blinked slowly before a look of complete and utter confusion donned his face.

"F-falling off a cliff?! Of course not, but-"

"Then can they help me catch things, like badges?"

"W-well, no, but-"

"Can they lift really, really heavy slabs of concrete?"

"…no."

"Hmm, these swords sound pretty useless to me. Why would I want one?" Gon inquired, tilting his head.

Magol could only stare at Gon with his jaw dropped, unaware that his brother was also struggling with a certain white-haired teen.

Dringol could have sworn that Killua's features morphed into that of a feline as the Zoldyk snickered at the dubious look on the elf's face.

"Could you say that again, please?" the elf asked, almost dumbly.

"A Yo-Yo," the ex-assassin repeated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"A… yo, yo?" Dringol mimicked unsurely, unfamiliar with the foreign term.

"Yep," Killua confirmed cheekily.

"…I apologise, but I have no idea what that is," the elf said, sounding genuinely pained.

"You don't even know what a yo-yo is?" Killua clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. "Jeez, some master craftsmen you are."

The elf, having missed the teens teasing tone, visibly deflated.

"I am deeply sorry for disappointing you, young master Killua," Dringol stated as he bowed.

"Hmmmm, would it help if you had a physical copy?" Killua inquired.

"Yes!" the elf shouted sounding thoroughly relieved, "that would indeed be a great help."

Dringol couldn't help the dubious expression which crossed his face as Killua slipped his hand into his pockets before drawing out two strange devices and placing it on the craftsmen's table with a noticeable "thunk".

Not bothering to pick it up, for now, the elf opted to study it closely from where it lay on his workbench.

The white-haired boy's 'weapons', Dringol noted with awe, comprised of two cylindrical pieces of metal which sat either end of a small rod, leaving a small space between them. Metal bracelets were attached to what appeared to be an incredibly thin wire wrapped around the small rod. The outward faces of the metal cylinders were blue-tinted, and also adorned identical six-pointed golden stars.

'The craftsmanship of these are superb!' the elf thought incredulously. 'Even a master would have a difficult time replicating this. Also, what metal is this?'

Just as Dringol went to pick up one of the yo-yos to analyse it better, Killua spoke up.

"You know, I wouldn't even bother trying to pick it up. They're probably too heavy, you know?"

"Too heavy?" the elf repeated, looking slightly offended, "You claim that, and yet you picked held then with ease… Trust me, if you can lift it, so can I. Since you are young, I don't blame you for not knowing but Elves are much stronger than those of the race of Men."

Dringol stated this with so much confidence that Killua almost snorted – 'yeah, learn Nen and then get back to me on that,' he thought. Choosing to mask his humour, outwardly, the ex-assassin simply quirked an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Really? Well, whatever. Do what you want," Killua replied with an uncaring shrug.

Dringol nodded approvingly at the teen's compliance.

"Well, back to the task at hand. Though I admit that these, yo, yos are indeed skilfully made, I fail to understand how they can be used in combat," the blacksmith discussed, before reaching to grab a yo-yo. "Are you sure these are your chosen weap-"

Dringol stopped his little spiel with a grunt as he found that he couldn't lift one of the small metal contraptions.

"H-how?" the elf spluttered as he continued to try and fail at picking up one of the yo-yos.

"Ho?" Killua tilted his head with a fake innocent face. "You can't pick it up? It's only fifty kilograms."

…

"Fifty kilograms?!" Dringol yelled.

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A few hours later, elsewhere, Aragorn sat quietly in a small clearing, a large book placed in his lap as his eyes skimmed its ancient and delicate pages. The ranger's brows furrowed deeply once he reached the final page.

Slamming the book closed, the man couldn't help but let a frustrated groan slip out his mouth.

…

Nothing. He'd found absolutely nothing.

Aragorn looked at the book in his lap and gave a quiet huff of disappointment. The title, 'Races of Middle Earth', was imprinted neatly on the binder and shone brilliantly under the sun's intense rays.

Strider thought he had let the matter behind the foreigner's mysterious backgrounds drop… however, he couldn't help but constantly think back to the duel – if you could even call it that – between Boromir and Gon.

That power… that rage… it wasn't normal. Far from it.

…

Aragorn let out a large yawn, rubbing his sore neck tiredly as he did so. It was clear by the dark circles which had formed under his eyes, that he hadn't gotten much sleep lately.

Of course, sleep deprivation was nothing new to the man. After all, the life of a Ranger most certainly wasn't easy, but it had taught him to adapt to the constant need of sleepless nights.

However, this wasn't the only habit which he'd developed over the years…

Paranoia.

Indeed, mainly due to the secret behind his heritage, trust was never something that Aragorn had given away easily. Taking on the mantle of a Ranger only seemed to further amplify this behaviour.

It was quite an annoying habit, honestly, but it was also a tendency which had saved his neck more times than he could count.

So, when Gandalf suddenly turned up with a pair of unknowns', announcing that they were to join the Fellowship, Aragorn certainly felt no inclination of trust.

Even though his heart told him that Gon and Killua were trustworthy, that they were friends… every other instinct practically screamed out in disapproval, warning him that they were too dangerous.

And so, there Aragorn was, sifting through every and any book he could get his hands on, in a desperate attempt to gain answers. Literally anything that would indicate that they were at least a faction as trustworthy as Gandalf seemed to believe. Unfortunately, though, his thorough search had yet to yield even the most miniscule detail about the teen's.

Choosing to neglect his research, for now, the man placed his book onto a rather large pile of scrolls and other literary documents.

'Maybe some training will be good for now,' Aragorn thought as he unsheathed his sword, only to frown as he observed the dull and battered blade.

…

Perhaps a slight detour to the blacksmith would be a better idea…

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Of all the things Aragorn was expecting to see when he walked into the blacksmith, this certainly wasn't it.

Killua and Gon – the two mysterious figures whom he had lost Eru knows how many hours of sleep over – stood over two, seemingly unconscious elves, as they admired… a fishing rod and two round pieces of metal?

Aragorn, unsure of the situation, approached slowly with a hand on his blade – though he had a feeling that a simple sword most definitely couldn't pose a threat to these boys. He knew Magol and Dringol wouldn't let anyone in their workshop unless they were close friends, or it was due to a direct request from Elrond. However, he still had to be cautious.

Call him paranoid, but the sight of his friends – two typically dignified elves – lying face down on the ground, certainly irked him.

The Ranger cursed silently as both Gon and Killua's heads snapped towards his direction as if sensing his approach.

"Oh, Aragorn-san!" the green-haired one exclaimed loudly, hitting the man with a bright smile.

Gon, brimming with excitement, practically bounded up to Aragorn, eager to show him his newly crafted 'weapon'.

"Look, Aragorn-san, this is what Magol-san made me! He wanted to make me a sword, but since he said a sword couldn't save me from falling off a cliff, I said I didn't want one, so he made me this!" the teen said, whipping out his fishing rod and waving it around. "It's just like my old fishing pole, but shinier! He said it was made from this rare metal called… ummm, I forgot what it was called, but it's cool isn't it, Aragorn-san? Isn't it? I'll have to thank Elrond-san later."

Aragorn struggled to keep up with the conversation as Gon continued to ramble on, making less and less sense as he went on.

'Elrond? Fishing… pole? Cliff?!' the Ranger thought, growing more confused at every word.

Trying to make sense of the situation, the man once again looked at the unconscious elves on the ground and then at items in both Gon and Killua's hands.

It hadn't taken long for Aragorn's face to morph from a look of confusion to that of understanding.

'New weapons! Of course. Elrond just mentioned this yesterday,' the man realised, almost tempted to facepalm at his own forgetfulness. 'I'm glad to have solved the misunderstanding, but… what's with those strange weapons?!'

Aragorn looked at the two teens' with scepticism.

"Killua has cool weapons too," Gon said, pointing to the white-haired foreigner.

Though Gon hadn't hesitated to address the older man, Killua, on the other hand, didn't share the same enthusiasm as his friend. Instead, his eyes were narrowed on where the Ranger had his hand placed.

Seeing where the ex-assassin's eyes were focused, Aragorn quickly retracted his hand from his blade. He hadn't realised that he had kept it there during his entire exchange with the bright boy. The Ranger cursed inwardly at his stupid mistake. He just knew that the other boy wasn't going to let this drop easily.

"…You know, if you wanted to hurt Gon, you'd have to use something better than that," the Zoldyck stated lazily, indicating to the man's sword. "But, even if you found something that could... it would really be a shame if you tried anything."

The man in question stiffened under the boys scrutinising gaze. Though the foreigner hadn't let off any murderous intent, the underlying threat was still there.

If Aragorn was ever unsure of the pair's friendship before, this would have certainly gotten rid of his doubt. It was clear to him that the white-haired one was incredibly protective of his friend and would go to any means – perhaps even something as great as murder – to keep it that way.

The Ranger brought up his hands in surrender.

"I apologise, Killua and Gon. I meant no harm. I was simply wary due to my friends' rather... concerning positions," Aragorn apologised sincerely while indicating to the elves on the ground. "...If I may ask, why are they like that?"

Killua's narrowed eyes quickly turned into a mischievous, almost feral-like grin.

"Well, we asked them to replicate our choices of weapon, and of course I wasn't going to let them make us cheap copies."

"Ne, ne, Killua. Weren't you a bit too rough on them? You made Dringol redo your yo-yos ten times," Gon's stated, looking at the twins with concern.

"It's not my fault he found it hard to make something that's only fifty kilos. Also, it took Dringol forever to find the best conductor of electricity, and Magol ages to find a good enough metal for your floater," the Zoldyck huffed.

"Yeah, but they've collapsed from exhaustion because of it!"

Aragorn watched the exchange with barely suppressed puzzlement. Sometimes the boys appeared normal, but then they'd go and say things like this.

He was starting to get the impression that confused was something he was going to be a lot these days.

With a silent sigh, the Ranger unknowingly mirrored his foster father's thoughts.

'Eru help us all.'

(1) – "Dring" literally translates to "hammer" in Sindarin – which is one of the elvish languages (I just added "ol" on the end of his name to make it sound like the elves were brothers), while "Magol" translates to "sword". I looked up a Sindarin translator and typed in any word that was related to Blacksmithing, and these were the only ones I found that didn't sound too stupid.

Okay, so this is honestly more of a filler chapter, so the Fellowship won't be leaving until probably next chapter.

I like the idea of Aragorn being confused over the fact that he can't figure out what Gon and Killua are, OR, where they come from, so I'm sticking with it for now – it probably won't be constant. Please tell me if my characters are a little too OOC for your liking (*cough* Elrond *cough*). If anyone's questioning Killua's behaviour, just so you know, he's only being wary of practically everyone cuz he's still shaken up over the whole 'Pitou' ordeal, so his protective mode is basically in overdrive – so yeah, get ready for future overreactions, and Killua being pissed at anything and everything.

When will I update next, you ask? Welp, I dunno… I am the BIGGEST procrastinator I know (I mean, you saw how long it took me to get my arse into gear to write this, ey?). Right-o, I think I might just sleep for a few months – see you later you awesome reader!