A/N: I liiivveeee! Whew! Been a while, eh? But we're back. I'd just like to say - though it's been like, two years since I last updated, I'm still getting people reading this story and leaving reviews - and that's incredibly heartening. It really does mean a lot. Rest assured, this story actually has been fully planned and plotted to its end.

The goal with Convergence was always to take a fairly realistic approach to a crossover and sometimes I feel that's come across well - and other times not. It's really a juggling act of staying true to the heart of the original stories and at the same time, create something fresh while still adhering to logic. As such, I don't feel too bad about playing a little fast and loose with the source material every now and then...

I will strive to keep updates ... heh ... frequent. ish. But as this is all done in my non-existent spare time - no promises I'm afraid...

As always, thank you so much for reading!

Chapter Nine

Council Pt. II

"… and that means you are all very, very fucked."

There was a second of ringing silence, then everyone began to speak at once.

"What madness is this –?"

"The ring of power must be –"

"Have you taken a leave of your senses –?"

"It is pure folly to think –"

"How could we ever possibly hope to –?"

"SILENCE!"

Abigail blinked. Elrond had gotten to his feet and he looked about as angry as Abigail had ever seen him. She might have been imagining it, but Elrond's voice seemed to almost reverberate in the air for several seconds. Then again, magic…

"You do yourselves no favours with this pointless quarrelling," he said, his tone glacial. "There is one solution to this problem – and only one." Elrond took the time to look around at everyone, meeting every person present in the eye. Everyone had quieted, although palpable tension still hung in the air.

"The ring must be taken to Modror – to the fires of Mount Doom – and destroyed."

Boromir stepped forward, his eyes alight with a fervent gleam. "The ring should be used! Such power in our hands would give us the strength to fight Sauron and his dark armies back."

"Power in your hands, eh?" One of the dwarves shot back. "The ring has corrupted all who have tried to wield it – and I for one will not trade one dark lord for another!"

"The strength of men –" Boromir began.

"– is no strength at all when faced with the lust for power," Aragorn finished for him. "Or have you so quickly forgotten the nine –" At this Aragorn paused and, despite the heated moment, shot Abigail a small smirk. "– the eight Ringwraiths. Our people alone cannot be trusted with this burden – for given time, we too will succumb to the dark whims of Sauron."

Boromir did not like that at all. "You betray your people so readily," he spat. "Have you no faith in the throne of Gondor?"

One of the elves beside Aragorn bristled, looking ready to tear into Boromir. On Aragon's other side, Arwen put a hand over her forehead. The arguments reignited, everyone shouting and pointing once more, vitriol hurled around the chamber like a bullet ricochet.

Meanwhile, Abigail winced, feeling the tendrils of the ring begin to prod into her mind once more. She had to stop this, before this entire council ripped each other's throats out. The indoctrination field that the ring was giving out was stronger than any other reaper artefact that Abigail had ever encountered. Even Object Rho hadn't been this intense.

Abigail frantically sifted through her thoughts, trying to remember everything she knew related to indoctrination – hadn't Dr. Kenson theorised that it had something to do with frequencies messing with people's minds; triggering their fears and worming into their thoughts? Around her, the council continued to argue, voices growing louder and louder with each passing second. Elrond valiantly tried to keep the peace, but everyone was too far gone, the ring's tendrils firmly sunk into their minds, fuelling their rage and blinding them to reason.

Think, Shepard, think!

Hang on – hadn't Object Rho had some sort of dark energy field around it? Like those statis fields Liara was often so fond of using. Yes – that might just work! If the frequencies were sufficiently dampened, it might disrupt the indoctrination field long enough to get everyone's brains unscrambled. The only problem – she'd never actually cast a statis field before.

Well, first time for everything.

Abigail held up her arm, palm facing the ring on its pedestal. She called up her biotics, blue fire swirling around her body. Talk around the council chamber immediately ceased, everyone taking hasty steps back as Abigail channelled her biotics to the palm of her hand. In theory, statis fields were much like densely layered biotic barriers, compressed into an extremely thick layer and held in place for a short period of time, as opposed to constantly projected around the body.

Simple enough… she hoped.

With a shout, Abigail cast the statis, enveloping the ring in a cocoon of biotics, the layers so dense that they practically glowed white. Instantly the pressure battering against her mind ceased, leaving her with an odd sense of silence. Shit – she hadn't even realised how much that had been affecting her. Similarly, the rest of the council seemed to snap out of a daze, looking around at each other as if they had forgotten what they had been fighting about.

"Lady Shepard," Gandalf said slowly. He shot a piercing look at the now statis-held ring. "It would appear our minds are being affected …"

"Sauron's power is concentrated in the One Ring," Elrond said, looking troubled. "I must admit, I had thought the power of Imladris would be sufficient to prevent it reaching out so forcefully."

"Wait –" Abigail squinted at the ring. "So you're saying this Sauron – whatever the hell he is – made this thing?" Possibilities ran through her head, none of them good. This was a reaper artefact, so it stood to reason that this Sauron was a reaper too – or at least indoctrinated enough to be trusted with reaper tech of this magnitude.

Which meant there was a reaper on Middle Earth.

Abigail looked around, at the medieval swords and axes – and an honest-to-god bow and arrow – and winced.

Well shit.

The council broke for lunch, giving everyone a chance to get their heads around what had just happened. Abigail in particular was still reeling from the revelation – and what it implied. If there was a living reaper on this planet, then was is possible that the crucible hadn't worked? Was everything they did – all those months of fighting, of losing comrades, of watching Earth burn to save it – meaningless?

She glanced back at the council chambers – out of everyone, Abigail was the only one who remained. She had to maintain close enough proximity to the ring to keep the statis field active – lest they all go Lord of the Flies again. She shifted uncomfortably, gently massaging the back of her neck – the skin around her amp feeling scratchy and tight. It was by no means the most intensive use of her biotics – she had her Cerberus reconstruction to thank for that, but still, sustained biotic fields always took more out of her. Hell – if she'd been a normal human biotic, she'd have collapsed from exhaustion by now.

Nevertheless, she could still feel the faintest probing in her mind, like an afterimage of rolling nausea, just hovering in the background. Abigail had concluded that the ring was – for want of a better word – conscious – or at least, to a degree anyway.

"Lady Shepard?"

A small voice broke her reverie. She looked around for the source, before realising and looking down. Frodo had approached her and he was holding out a small pastry and a mug of what seemed like a cider of sorts.

"I wondered if you might be hungry," the hobbit said shyly. "On account of not being able to leave your … magics … alone."

Abigail smiled despite herself, pushing her dark thoughts away. She took the proffered food and drink, eating the pastry in two bites and downing the cider in one go. Frodo looked surprised, then bemused as she handed the mug back.

"Thank you," she told him sincerely. "And yeah – gotta stay near it to keep the field active. Wouldn't want to have that thing messing with everyone again."

Frodo hesitated, then looked up at her, wide blue eyes meeting her own. "I carried it – the – the ring, you know." Abigail's eyebrows rose. "From the Shire. That was why the ringwraiths were following us – they were hunting me."

The hobbit glanced at the ring again before looking back at her. "I hear it sometimes, whispering," he said softly, as if ashamed. "It promises me things – power, glory, eternal life." Frodo pursed his lips. "I don't want it – any of it. All I want to do is return to the Shire and live a peaceful, quiet life. But this…" He swallowed a lump in his throat before shaking his head. "I never wanted any of this."

Abigail's heart softened. So that's why he could resist the indoctrination so well – here was a person that didn't care about any of the things that others spent their entire lives to gain – her included, as much as she didn't want to admit it. Plain and simple, the thing he wanted most, the ring couldn't give him.

She crouched down to be face to face with Frodo, giving him a small, sad smile. "You don't have to, you know," she told him softly, despite knowing what his answer would be. "You could go home, any time you liked."

Frodo shook his head frantically. "No! I see what the ring does to people." He looked her in the eye. "Even you, Lady Shepard – I see it in your eyes – the hunger, the desire." He shook his head. "If what Lord Elrond says is true - the ring has to be taken to Mordor. And I can think of no other to safely carry it."

Oh you poor, brave idiot.

Abigail put a hand on his shoulder. "If the galaxy had more people like you, Frodo – it'd be a far better place."

Frodo looked down, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. Abigail sighed. "Look – this Mordor place – I take it it's not somewhere you just stroll in?"

The hobbit gave her a wry look. "From all accounts it is a dark, dangerous land – full of orcs and trolls and monsters from the darkest of nightmares. Not to mention Sauron himself."

Abigail sighed. "Well – sounds like a suicide mission. Lucky for you, I'm pretty good with those." She grinned at her own joke. Frodo just looked bemused.

"Look, kid," Abigail said more seriously. "If you your heart's set on doing this – then I'm coming with you."

"You would do such a thing?" Frodo seemed almost disbelieving.

Abigail stood up, stretching her arms as she did so. "Dangerous, ill-advised missions with zero chance of success?" She cracked her knuckles. "Kid – those are my speciality."

Frodo began to nod slowly. From behind him, Abigail could see people beginning to drift back in. She jerked her head. "Looks like we're back on."

"I just hope they grow less belligerent than last time," Frodo said quietly.

"Hey," Abigail gave the hobbit a nod. "I got your back."

"Thank you." Frodo took a deep breath, like a man summoning his strength and fortitude to go ten rounds with a bull. Which in a way, he was.

As they entered the council chambers along with everyone else and took their seats, Abigail glanced over at the hobbit.

"You know," she told him quietly, "There's a saying where I'm from: 'May you live in interesting times'."

"It would seem to be more of a curse," Frodo muttered.

Abigail grinned at him. "It is actually used as one."

Finally, Frodo cracked a small smile.

The council reconvened, each person taking a seat while keeping a wary eye on the ring in the centre of the chamber, wreathed in the statis. Although whether that was from the ring or her biotics, Abigail didn't know.

"Thank you," Elrond said, once everyone had settled down. He glanced at the statis trapped ring and added, "And thank you, Lady Shepard, for your timely assistance."

Abigail gave him a short nod.

One of the elves – the one sat next to Aragorn – leaned forward, looking curiously at the biotic field.

"I must wonder – what sort of magic is this? In all my years I have never seen any magic behave this way."

"They're called biotics," Abigail told him. "They're a … ability from my … world."

"You speak of worlds as if you do not come from this one," Boromir said suspiciously.

"I don't," Abigail said flatly. She was getting real tired of this asshole's attitude. "I come from –"

"What Lady Shepard means," Gandalf interjected smoothly, "is that she comes from across the sea."

The sea? Was that some sort of euphemism for space?

"So she is Maia?" one of the elves said, sounding breathy.

Gandalf inclined his head. "Of a sort."

Maia? What on earth was that? Judging by the look Gandalf was giving her though, Abigail thought it best to play along.

"Ah yes – I am a … Maia? Yes. A Maia." She nodded, trying to instil some sense that she knew what she was on about.

Boromir looked incredulous. "I had thought only men could be wizards…"

"That's it!" Abigail flared with blue fire, sending a murmur around the chambers. "Listen here fuckwad –"

"I beg your pardon!"

Abigail snarled. "You'll be begging for more than that when I turn your face into ground beef –"

A small hand one her arm stopped her and she turned around to find Frodo looking up at her with concern. He gestured to the pedestal of the ring, where the statis field was flickering in and out of existence, letting the ring's indoctrination field free. Shit.

Abigail shut her eyes, focusing her mind. Combat breathing. A few seconds later, the statis field ceased wavering and resumed its full strength.

For his part, Boromir seemed to realise what had happened and ducked his head.

"I apologise," he murmured, although his face still looked troubled. "I spoke out of turn, Lady Shepard."

Abigail sighed. "Not all your fault. The ring's indoctrination wants us fighting. The reaper M.O.: Divide and conquer."

"Which is why it must be destroyed." Elrond took the opening to wrestle back control of the conversation. "The only way is in Mordor – to cast it into the fires of Mount Doom – to unmake it at the place where it was created."

"Could it not be melted down?" One of the dwarves said, looking at the ring thoughtfully. "I am certain if we built a hot enough forge…"

Elrond shook his head. "The magics bound to the ring make it stronger than any metal in this world. Save for perhaps true dragon fire, there is no other way."

Holy shit – they had dragons?

Then what Elrond said caught up with her. Stronger than any metal… If it was, indeed, reaper tech – then –

Abigail quickly fired up her omnitool once more and ran a deeper level scan on the ring – one usually reserved for atomic and subatomic analysis. The results, when they came back, supported her suspicions. The ring was made out of the same material as the mass relays and the citadel! It also contained a quantum field that held its atomic structure in place. And since relays had been known to survive supernovas … yeah, nothing on this planet would even come close to scratching it.

"What is it Lady Shepard?" Arwen said softly from across the chamber.

"Elrond's right," Abigail said. "No way is this thing going out without some serious firepower." Her omnitool beeped as it finished the second part of the scan, causing Abigail's eyes to widen. And giving out some serious power in return - holy shit!

The readouts on her omnitool were giving back frankly ridiculous readings. It had to be an error – that, or that there was actually enough energy to power a mass relay squeezed into that tiny bit of jewellery. Abigail scoffed. They certainly weren't kidding about 'enough power to rule the world.'

"So Mordor it is then," Frodo said quietly beside her.

Looking around at the gathered council before him, Elrond said solemnly: "And it is one of you who must do this."

Dead silence greeted his words.

It was Boromir who broke it with a sigh. "One does not simply walk into Mordor."

Abigail snorted. All eyes turned to her. "Well, it's not like we'd just stroll up to the front door, knock and ask if we could borrow their volcano for a little bit," she said dryly. "We send in an infiltration team – small, mobile – easy to slip under the radar. We get in, drop the ring off and exfil before they even realise were there in the first place."

One of the dwarves guffawed. "Something tells me it won't be quite that easy lass," he said.

"All of this speculation aside – whom shall we send?" one of the elves asked.

Predictably, Boromir was the first to voice an objection.

"This is folly!" he cried, frustration bleeding into his words. "You wish to all but hand the ring to the enemy? Not with ten-thousand men could you storm the black gates of Mordor."

"Have you heard nothing this council has said?" the elf beside Aragorn shot back at him. "The ring must be destroyed."

"Oh and I suppose you're going to do it?" another dwarf demanded, sarcasm all but dripping from his tone.

This was the queue for the rest of the council to collapse, once again, into a loud frenzied argument. People shot to their feet, hurling vicious barbs across the chamber. Only Arwen, Abigail and Frodo remained in their seats.

Abigail met Arwen's gaze from across the room and gave a small sigh. Arwen, for her part, pursed her lips and rose to put a hand on Elrond's shoulder. Immediately, her father calmed, looking at her, somewhat bemused. Arwen muttered something softly into his ear, causing his face to turn into a frown and his gaze to land squarely on Frodo's.

Abigail, observing the chaos around them, turned to Frodo, whose eyes were transfixed at the ring, shimmering behind the statis field – or wait – was it actually shimmering itself? Shit. Had it broken through the dark energy barrier already? They had to finish this – quickly – before somebody died.

"Are you sure?" she asked the hobbit one last time. One last out. One she knew he'd never take. He looked up at her with terrified blue eyes, but nodded, his face set into a resolute determination.

Frodo got to his feet.

Abigail took a deep breath and summoned up the best officer voice she could muster, one designed to carry through parade ranks and battlefields alike.

"ATTEN-SHUON!"

Talk ceased and all eyes immediately snapped to her. Then slid to Frodo as he stepped forward.

"I will take it," he said, with only the barest hint of a quiver in his voice. "I will take the ring to Mordor." The poor, brave fool looked around, meeting everyone's eyes and equally dumfounded expressions, before admitting, "Though I do not know the way."

Shocked silence from the council met his statement.

It was Gandalf who first stepped forward, looking down at Frodo with something akin to bittersweet pride.

"I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins," he said as he made to stand beside the hobbit. "As long as it is yours to bear."

Aragorn was next, striding forward and joining Gandalf's side. "You have my sword," he told Frodo solemnly.

A second voice added "And mine," as Arwen glided forward and gave Frodo a soft smile before standing beside Aragorn.

"And my bow," another of the elves promised.

Not to be outdone, one of the dwarves leapt forward, "And my axe!"

All eyes fell on Boromir, who slowly, almost grudgingly moved towards Frodo.

"If this is indeed the will of the council…" He trailed off before shaking his head and giving a small, sharp nod. "Then Gondor will see it done."

"Hey!" There was a scramble in the bushes behind the council chamber and lo and behold, Sam came stumbling out of the undergrowth, taking his permanent spot beside Frodo, who for his part looked incredibly bemused and also not a little bit relieved to have Sam next to him.

Sam looked defiantly up at everyone around him, completely unfazed by their heights.

"Mr. Frodo's not going anywhere without me," he declared.

"No indeed," Elrond said, very clearly trying not to laugh. "It is hardly possible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

"Oi! We're coming too!"

Quick, light footsteps heralded the arrival of the last two hobbits from where they had been hiding behind pillars. Merry and Pippin joined the growing group surrounding Frodo, crossing their arms defiantly, mulish expressions on their faces.

"You'd need to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us," Merry informed the rest of them.

"Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission – quest – thing," Pippin added.

With a snort, Merry dug his elbow at the other hobbit. "Rules you out then, Pip."

Elrond shot Gandalf an incredulous look, and the latter merely shrugged, as if to say, 'Told you so'.

Finally, Frodo turned to Abigail, who had remained sitting on her chair. She grinned at the hobbit as she slowly got to her feet, taking her place amongst the other members of the team.

"I'm with you all the way, kid," she said. "To hell and back."

Frodo gave her a small smile, doing his level best not to look overwhelmed.

Elrond surveyed their little group, meeting everyone in the eye at least once. His gaze lingered on Arwen for a moment, his lips growing tight, but Arwen met his eyes steadfastly, refusing to be the one to look away first.

"Eleven companions," he said finally giving a slow nod. "So be it. Henceforth, you shall be the fellowship of the ring!"

Pippin looked around at them then gave a cheerful nod.

"Right. So where are we going?"

Abigail's face palm was matched only by Elrond's.

As the council disbanded and the rest of the fellowship - save Frodo went off to prepare for their little road trip to hell, Abigail's gaze fell on the ring, surrounded by the now weakening biotic field. She couldn't very well keep a statis field active the entire journey. And without anything between that thing and the rest of them, they'd be at each other's throats before they even left Rivendell.

Something would have to be done about that ring…

After a moment, a spark of an idea came to her and Abigail gave a savage grin. With a snap of her wrist, the statis field dissipated, dark energy trailing off into sparks of nothingness. She turned to Frodo and motioned for him to take the ring.

The hobbit did so with a curious tilt of his head.

"Come on," she told him conspiratorially. "That ring has an appointment with a blacksmith and my omnitool…"

The one ring, for the first time in a long, long while, was silent. If an inanimate object could be said to exude malice, then the ring was positively seething.

In another world, things might have been different.

In another world, without the elven girl's magic and meddling, it might have had a chance to corrupt one of the bearer's companions, to pit them against each other and split this fellowship apart.

In another world, without The Shepard's interference, it might have been able to take the ringbearer's heart and corrupt it, to twist it and turn it cold and black.

In another world . . . it wouldn't have been sealed inside a lead amulet, suspended inside a nano-scale, mass effect faraday cage.

Though it dangled on the ringbearer's neck, it was a blind and deaf – its reach considerably weakened.

But no matter. Plans could change.

The ring drew itself inward and began to think.