Of course, it almost seems like Frodo is set up from the beginning to play this part, as Jacob alludes to. Right from the start, Elrond sits Frodo up next to him in a place of high honor, has everyone look at him, and tells the story of how brave and forthright the stalwart Hobbit was in getting the Ring this far. Plus, he already is the custodian of the Ring and there never seems any question about him giving it up to another individual (look especially at how much Gandalf and Elrond leap all over Boromir when he insinuates that he himself, or someone in the Council, should use the Ring as a weapon). Far from an "inevitability" due to the lack of other options, as Jacob writes about, I really believe that Gandalf and Elrond had the final outcome of the Council worked out from the get-go, with all the talking as just a formality to appease those on the outside. A cynical view, perhaps, but surely Gandalf wasn't really astonished at Frodo volunteering. What other choice did he have?
There are two main mini-narratives in this chapter that command the reader's attention. A third but obviously less important tangent is Glóin's story about the doings of Dáin's kingdom and the Dale-men. It serves to highlight the growing unrest in all of Middle-earth. The response of Sauron's messenger to Dáin's comment that his thoughts were still his own -- "For the present" -- is wonderfully sinister. Saruman explains Sauron's motivations a little bit later on in the chapter, and this comment seems to fall in line with that quite well: Sauron is all about gaining knowledge, rule, and above all, order. Sauron was originally a Maia tied to Aulë, the Vala of smithing, craftsmanship, and metallurgy. It makes sense that Sauron would be fixed upon structure and organization. These traits, taken to an extreme, go against the benevolent pastoralism that Tolkien seems to cherish most about the Hobbits and the Elves. Rules are good, and are generally for our protection and guidance, but when taken to a fascist extreme, are stifling and ultimately destructive. Of course Sauron, already at that extreme, would want to stifle the oft-unruly thoughts of the "lesser beings" he wished to bring under his sway.
Other than those choice tidbits dealing with Sauron's modus operandi, Glóin's narrative serves to foreshadow Moria, coming along in a few chapters. All of these names would be a bit confusing to a first-time reader, even one that had The Hobbit under his belt (I remembering being very confused about the apostrophe for emphasis over Glóin's name the first time I read the book. What was that little mark there for? It wasn't there in Hobbit!) Tolkien doesn't stop to explain these things; instead he continues at a breakneck pace through the Dwarven lingo (but oddly providing a "Shadow of the Past, Part Deux" recap of other parts of the history of the Second Age). On the other hand, the brief summary of the history of Gondor and Arnor serves as a good two-page preview of the Appendicies, and actually serves as a pretty good substitute for the reader not interested in tackling supplemental materials.
The chapter's real strengths lie in the narratives of Boromir and Gandalf, and then the denouement of Bilbo's rejected proposal to take the Ring and Frodo volunteering in his place. There is a lot of padding around the edges of the rest of it. As I mentioned before, I feel that Gandalf and Elrond -- or, if you prefer, Tolkien himself, as the writer -- knew how the chapter had to end right from the start, and everything that was said to get to that point was just a means to that end. The inevitability of it all doesn't do the chapter any favors, so these mini-stories are helpful in keeping the reader's attention.
Boromir's is quite interesting, simply because he is completely clueless as to anything happening outside of Gondor, and as such presents a completely different perspective on things that we haven't received before. Right off the bat, Boromir is clearly offended by Elrond's description of Gondor as a failing Númenorean kingdom, even though he himself is not a direct descendant of Isildur and is from a corrupted line. His pride and arrogance are palpable in his description of Gondor's efforts to stem the tides from Mordor: "By our valor . . . thus alone are peace and freedom maintained in the lands behind us." And this is said as if he hadn't just listened to Glóin's story about war mustering on the borders of the Dwarven kingdom and messengers openly proclaiming their connection to Mordor openly marching up to the gates of Erebor.
Tolkien does an excellent job of revealing a lot about Boromir's character and his relationships with his family and others around him in this single chapter. The supernatural dream (a much more bombastic vision than Frodo's; perhaps a different Vala is taking interest in the affairs of Gondor) that Boromir shares with the Council was sent several times to Faramir, Boromir's younger brother, and only once to Boromir, and yet Boromir basically gives Faramir the shaft and steals his quest, gallivanting off to find Imladris even though the message was sent to Faramir first and most. Makes you wonder what would have happened to the Fellowship if Faramir, instead of Boromir, had been sent. Also telling is that both brothers went to their father, Denethor, to interpret the dream.
Boromir, of course, probably thought that he would be the one to wield the Sword that was Broken; naturally it comes as a shock that not only is the sword spoken for, but it's bearer claims to be the heir of Isildur himself. The gulf that stands between Aragorn and Boromir is truly vast at this point; when Aragorn tells Boromir that "little do I resemble the images of Isildur and Anárion as they stand carven in the halls of Denethor", he is speaking from experience -- he has seen these statues in person and in fact served Denethor's father, Ecthelion, under another name before Boromir was even born. In contrast to Aragorn's quiet confidence, Boromir acts like the kid who won't shut up in class: he constantly brings up his belief that Gondor protects everyone there -- but after every boast, Elrond gently reminds him that there are others who fight and that Gondor is not the only thing holding Sauron back.
Gandalf's story is more straightforward, and is notable mainly for the introduction of our secondary antagonist, Saruman "of Many Colours" (I can't recall if that particular point is every brought up again, but certainly it's not important to the story, so I wonder why Tolkien dwells on it so much here. Although it does give Gandalf the nice understated zinger: "I liked white better." Speaking of dropped plot points, the ring on Saruman's finger (and his proclamation that he is "Saruman ring-maker") is never brought up again; nor is the fact that Gollum is apparently rescued by Sauron's forces rather than escaping on his own. That in particular is impossible to square with Gollum's later appearance and abject hatred of Sauron). The confrontation between the two wizards makes me wonder; how did Gandalf get so easily taken in by Sauron, when he was able to hold off the Black Riders with a flashy-light battle on Weathertop? Is Saruman the White just that much more powerful than Gandalf the Grey?
A final note on Saruman's history: it does make a certain degree of sense that Saruman would be taken in by Sauron's philosophy of knowledge, rule, and order. Saruman, like Sauron, is a Maia of Aulë, concerned with rock and metal and craft. Saruman was the first and most powerful of the Wizards to be sent to Middle-earth by the Vala to combat Sauron, but he was also the first to give up the agenda of traveling from group to group to lift spirits and inspire courage, and instead settled in Orthanc, tending to his own affairs and consolidating power (although still nominally on the side of the good guys as the leader of the White Council) nearly 400 years before this point. What's really amazing is that Gandalf et al didn't figure out Saruman's plans sooner. The "Wise" indeed.
My final note is on Frodo's acceptance and Elrond's little speech (which is totally ruined by Sam's appearance, by the way -- I know Sam volunteering thematically had to be snuck in here, but still; it just kills the moment). It really is quite beautiful, the silence that fills the room as each Council member contemplates the question: "Could I take the Ring to Mordor?" As Jacob noted, there's an inevitability to Frodo's decision. But it is not a hopeless one. As Elrond describes, in words that are useful for us all in hard times, the choice to destroy the Ring rather than the easier westward road "is not despair, for despair is only for those who see the end beyond all doubt. We do not. It is wisdom to recognize necessity, when all other courses have been weighed, though as folly it may appear to those who cling to false hope."
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