Prologue
Melkor's Servant

The universe was very old.

These many had learnt through faith in their gods or studies by science were an incontrovertible fact, immutable by existence itself. Time was the one constant in the universe. Laws of physics while incapable of changing could be made flexible, energy could be diverted and space was curved but time? Time knew no master, it functioned on a straight line, a linear passage that began and ended at two separate points.

In his time as Lord of Mordor and minion of Morgoth, Sauron had learnt many truths about the world that not even the Valar were aware. Truths that would make their belief in the assurance of their vaunted positions shake like the foundations of a demolished building. He knew that there were rules to which even Eru were bound, rules written by a power that no one could understand, save the creator himself. There was a cycle to things, a beginning and an end that had to be observed even though Eru was supreme in all things. It was a law he would not break and indeed had never broken, not since the first themes of the Ainur had been sung, since Ea had been crafted out of the void.

He had been confined in his prison of flesh, left helpless by a cruel trick of fate that left him trapped within a cage he knew he would never penetrate. His mind, dulled by the defeat at the hands of his enemies, had for a time slumbered in the void, trying desperately to reform the fragments of his powerful psyche. In time, his mind returned to its former self but this achievement did not alter the fact that he was confined within his physical body with no hope of escape. He lay trapped in this mire of limbo, not knowing anything of the world beyond, not able to affect it in anyway, a situation that was wholly unacceptable and yet inescapable.

He had one visitor during his first months in this private hell. The child who was representative of the soul that had become the bane of his existence and had always ensured to play a part in his downfall throughout the ages. She would come to his cage and look within, watching with her silent eyes, daring him to escape. He would scream of her and threaten her with torments she could not imagine but it frightened her little for he was a tiger with no teeth. She came to him regularly, watching and saying little during her brief visits.

After a time, he began to think that perhaps he would never escape from the confines of his mortal form, that he would be doomed to live within its casing for as long as the heart continue to beat inside David Saeran's chest. The possibility frustrated them him and filled him with black despair. He began to conceive that perhaps his time was done that the dreams of a glorious dark age was a dead to the world as he was. It was during the blackest moment of his despair that Sauron; former lord of Mordor remembered one vitally important thing. His mind may have been locked away from the physical world but Shadow world, which had provided him so much strength, was still open to him.

He found himself revisiting the realm he had not seen since the Third Age, the place that had been home to him when One Ring had been lost. Slowly, he used its dark power to nourish his own strength, though not enough to call attention to himself but he knew the Valar were ever watchful. In his outcast state, he planned how he might return, how he would vanquish his former master's brethren once and for all. The spells and wizardry required to accomplish such dark magic was within his knowledge but he lacked the real power to make any of it a reality.

He found himself wandering the pathways in the shadow realm, searching for a way to escape his unearthly confinement, to see what was beyond his injured shell. He found nothing. The Valar had been exceedingly thorough in ensuring that the dark dimension remained contained. Thus he was forced to find alternate means of escape and it was a matter of pure chance that he found a place where they had been recently, their power resonated through the cold, offering him a trail to follow. His mind moved carried by currents of force, patterns of energy that could not be measured by any science known to exist. He did not know how far he traveled in this nexus, only that it was very distant away from the waking world.

It could have been at the edge of all things or at the beginning of it. The place Sauron found himself had no name. It reeked of desolation and seemed like a void that was meant to house the greatest evils of all. The part of him that was David Saeran, thought hell might be an apt description even if there was no fire or brimstone. The most terrifying thing in the world is nothingness and when Sauron arrived in this place, with its plunging darkness, it was the first time in his existence that he felt real fear. The Void at least sat at the edge of Ea and though he had been trapped in it, he could still see Ea in the distance, offering comfort of what still existed.

In this place, there was nothing. He would have fled if he had not sensed a tendril of something familiar, clawing at him, beckoning to come forth. He had followed that tendril until its radiation had become a vast globe of power, filling the darkness with awesome fiery light. He saw it swirling about an orb of unimaginable power, orbiting like a lonely sun. He marveled at its energy, felt it whispering to him like a lover and as he approached, the wave of familiarity becoming stronger, more potent.

I knew you would find me.

The voice was soft and as disembodied as his own. He heard it through a great noise and realized that he was hearing it through flame. It took him a moment to realize that it was emanating from inside the orb, piercing the fiery layer to reach him.

"Melkor?"

Master,' the voice repeated itself. You forget your self.

"Forgive me," Sauron replied acidly. "I thought the Valar destroyed you.

They do not have the stomach for such finality but they have found a way to imprison me nonetheless.

"How? "

The orb you see before you is the sum of my power, they have encased me a prison of created from my own essence. I cannot breach it.

"This is you Master?"

If he had eyes he would have gaped at overwhelming force before him. This was the sum of Melkor's unleashed power, the one not tainted by a physical body or held in check by the Valar. In this place, the Ainur were as they had been when Illuvutar dreamed the first themes of the Great Music and fashioned the children he would called the Valar from each note. In this place, Melkor was as close to his former glory as he could ever be, when he was capable of creating mountains and balrogs with a simple thought. All the darkness of the world had come to being when Melkor was at his most potent.

I called you here, my childe, my greatest disciple because only you have the strength to free me. Do this and we will rule as we have never ruled.

"How can I do that?" Sauron asked cautiously. His present situation was precarious enough without risking himself on some foolish venture for a creature he would again have to bow before like a supplicant.

The power must be drawn away from me, siphoned if you will so a breach can be formed. Through this weakening I will come forth. I summoned you here because your will was always greater than all others. You can do this Sauron, you can free me.

"How can I absorb this? " he asked, "I am not Valar."

My power does not recognize what master wields it, it only knows the instruction. The Ainur are little more than orbs of energy given life by sentience. My prison binds me and no matter how I try I cannot make the crossing. It must be weakened from beyond, to allow my sentience to escape. Once I am freed of it, I shall take what is mine.

"How interesting," Sauron said as his form approached the orb.

He had no skin but he could feel its heat, could feel its incredible power emanating like the blast from a hot furnace. It beckoned him, the full measure of Melkor's power, to do as his former master had asked. He thought of the First Age when he had truly known power, when he was Morgoth's fearsome lieutenant. The failures of the futures ages had seemed so distant then, so improbable. He thought he had risen above that, risen above the petty efforts of mortals lesser than he when he had returned to the world and yet he was still here, in this place about to become a servant again.

Not this time.

Sauron opened his senses, freed himself of all barriers and let the power that needed someone strong enough to take it, bleed into him, slow aching tendrils of amber snaking around his incorporeal self. The orb began to dim from its fiery, reddish glow, diminishing as more and more energy became drawn to his indomitable will, connecting to him because he simply wanted it enough. It found kinship with a mind that was at last equal to its awesome might.

That is it, my disciple, Melkor's voice said exuberantly. It is working!

It is indeed, Sauron thought but for all the different reasons.

The orb began to diminish and he could feel his own life force burgeoning, growing with a surge of power he had never dared to dream was possible. However, it did not come to him without price. If he had limbs, he would have felt each to be roasting alive, as if every cell in his non-existent body was imploding. He bore it bravely, refused to cry out as he absorbed every particle of energy that had been the crown of Melkor's power His mind began to open, doors swinging open, bringing clarity and understanding that made what came before seem limited and blinding. No more half measures, no more fear that the Valar would stop him. He had failed before because he lacked the power to carry out the ambitions of his intellect. Such was no longer the case.

What are you doing? Melkor demanded. You are drawing too much!

"No I am not," Sauron answered the wayward child of Eru, "I am drawing it all."

NO! It is mine! You will cease immediately!

"Or what?" Sauron challenged. "You still do not understand the elegance of the Valar's trap do you? They did not simply encase you in a shell of your own power, they disconnected you. You are separate from what you were. You cannot breach it because you are no longer connected to it but you have shown me how to absorb that excess energy and for that I am eternally grateful. So my former master, I will give you a reward and deliver you from this hell."

The orbs were shrinking like a dying star, its amber light fading away fast. In the core of his dwindling cell of energy, Melkor was finding the walls closing in on him.

You cannot do this! I am your master!

"My master?" Sauron hissed. "All you have ever been was a means to an end. You allowed me to escape the grasp of that provincial laborer Aule. For a time you amused me Lord Melkor," the title escaped him with content, "we shared the same passion for destruction but then you became obsessed with a jewel and were willing to throw it all away. I must confess I was myself ensnared by a bauble but no more, this time I will destroy them all and I will not be satisfied with just the elves and the weakling humans. The Valar will never chain me as they chained you. I will not make your mistakes and I will shown none any mercy."

You would not dare strike at the Valar! Eru would never stand for it!

"Eru? " Sauron laughed. "Where he has been all these years? You may be a dilettante but you are not a fool. Eru is off travelling the universe, recreating new Petrie dishes for his experiments on morality and evil. He has not cared about Arda since you decided to turn it into a demon's playground. Why do you think he banished the others from the Timeless Halls? He needed someone to manage this experiment while he went off to begin another. He will not interfere because he simply does not care."

You cannot have any more!

Melkor wailed helplessly through the darkness as the orb all but vanished around him and had reformed around the presence that was Sauron. It burned bright around his former servant; a glow so radiant that it almost threatened to penetrate the black nothingness that he was coming to realize would be his grave.

Sauron approached Melkor when he had taken all his power and looked upon the failed god whose ambition was never equal to his power, who could have it all but became obsessed with the Silmarils and ruined everything because of his need for it. Finally after so many aeons, Melkor would know who truly ruled his kingdom while he sat upon its throne like the figurehead that he was.

I underestimated you, the whimpering pathetic voice said.

"By quite a bit I imagine, " Sauron answered, "but do not underestimate me now. I said you will be rewarded and rewarded you shall be. "

The sentience that was Melkor cringed in fear. You cannot kill me, it said desperately. I am Ainur.

"You were Ainur," Sauron answered as he christened his newfound powers by an appropriate act of murder. "But now you are nothing."

Clenching a fist of energy around the tiny morsel of Melkor's remaining self, Sauron crushed all that was left of his master in a final scream of agony.

"And I," Sauron said as he turned his attention back to the world of flesh and blood, "am going to be everything."

Part One
A Change in the Weather

If Tory came home early she would kill him.

It was a sad state of affairs indeed when Bryan Miller who in his lifetime had killed numerous enemies during his time as an intelligence operative and had prevented a dark lord from wreaking Armageddon, was afraid of his girlfriend discovering what he done to her kitchen. He knew that when she had decided to take Fred and join Miranda on a picnic some hours away from here, that he would not have a better time to put into place the experiment he had been dying to attempt for some months now.

However, an experiment of this magnitude was simply not complete with compatriots to share the moment. He had asked Aaron Stone who promptly told him that he was man-child bordering on lunatic who needed a new hobby. Bryan supposed a doctor was not the person to ask to join him on this particular endeavor. Nor was it any use recruiting Frank who these days was so lost within the libraries of Tirion that he was no longer said to be sleeping but rather hanging upside down from the rafters when he needed the rest, like a bat in a belfry.

Thus he brought into this fellowship (and he had every right to use that word), Eric Rowan and Jason Merrick, two companions he was certain would share his enthusiasm for the project and was just as depleted as he at having to go without what they were trying to produce. Shortly after Tory and Fred had taken off with Miranda Miller, Bryan's sister-in-law, Bryan, Eric and Jason had sprung into action, commandeering the kitchen and waiting for the arrival of the final member of their quest. The elf arrived a short time later, bringing the final ingredients even though he was at something of a loss to explain why his human companions would need these particular items.

"This smells badly," Elrohir remarked to Bryan as the room filled with a light mist and the display of boiling pots, paddles, rubber stopper, fermenter lid and tubes.

"Keep stirring," Bryan barked at the elf who rolled his eyes and continued to swirl a wooden spoon in the concoction of malt syrup. "You don't want it to stick to the bottom of the pain."

"Are you sure this stuff is safe?" Jason looked dubiously at the yeast substance so vital for the final product. "It reeks."

"Well fermentation will do that," Bryan retorted. "You know if I knew you were going to complain like a bunch of hens, I would have done this myself."

"Oh lighten you cranky pom," Eric retorted opening a window, "I haven't a had drink in weeks either and I'm nowhere as tense as you."

"I'm not tense," Bryan gave Eric a look, "but if I have to drink anymore of this elf wine or whatever it is they call it, I'm going to be prancing around like a bloody fairy."

"I resent the implication," Elrohir threw back at Bryan with a look of annoyance on his face. "The faerie are a myth of your world, not of ours."

"Will you keep stirring?" Bryan declared pointing at the pot and putting the elf's mind on track. "You can't let it get all lumpy."

"You know," Jason grumbled, "it might be simpler just to sail back to England to get some beer instead of making it ourselves."

"Trust me," Bryan remarked, lovely visions of warm lager and vindaloo filing his consciousness, "I've thought of it."

"And I thought Legolas' obsession with coke was a problem," Eric shook his head.

"Legolas' obsession is a problem," Bryan said crisply, "mine is just fine as it is."

"So where did you shunt poor Lady Tory to in order to carry out this mischief," Elrohir inquired, wondering how he had become embroiled in this affair.

"Oh she and Miranda wanted to take the kids out for some fresh air and a picnic," Bryan said distracted as he continued to ensure that the tub and other equipment were in good working order for the fermentation process. "Fred's been acting a little strange lately. Her nightmares seem to be coming back." He paused long enough to meet their gazes to show all present that it was a source of concern to him even if he did not make deeper mention of it.

"Nightmares?" Eric looked at him. "She have them a lot?"

"Well when we first arrived here, all the time," Bryan said remembering those nights when he and Tory would have to run into her room following a piercing scream broken by a heart-wrenching sob. Bryan could never bear to hear that sound and would often stay with the child all night if it meant she could feel safe enough to close her eyes to sleep. "Of course, being a prisoner of Sauron would do that to anyone. After awhile they stopped and I thought she was over but in the last few weeks it has started again. I'm wondering if it has to do with it coming close to the anniversary of her mum and dad's death."

"Probably," Jason remarked, "children see a lot more than they let on."

"And in Fred's case it is especially true," Elrohir remarked. "She is after all a Ringbearer. Frodo's ordeal with the One Ring has left a mark upon his soul that carries from life to life."

Bryan did not comment on that because he often felt that it was unfair to have one soul burdened with the duty of ending great darkness. He supposed he saw her as a child and was unable to be so arbitrary when he thought of her place in the scheme of things. As Frodo, the Ringbearer had been forced to endure a terrible quest in order to save the world they knew and as Fred, she had been the focal point around which all forces had gathered in the destruction of David Saeran's bid for an empire borne of nuclear fire. Perhaps it was by cosmic design that it would be this particular soul that stood against great evil in any age. It was also why Bryan was so fiercely determined to protect her. The elves seemed to think that this was his penance as Boromir of Gondor, for failing the Ringbearer during the quest. Maybe it was that but he knew he loved her like his own child and in the face of that, it made prophecy and design unimportant by comparison.

"Well I hope it passes," Eric answered capable of seeing the real depth of concern, despite the Englishman's bravado. In the last five months, he and Bryan Miller had struck up a close friendship. Both men finding a lot in common in that they possessed the same laconic humor and general cynicism that Jason described as being 'two prats in a pod.'

"It will," Elrohir said confidently, "the soul of the Ringbearer is if nothing, resilient."

"I am surprised that Aaron isn't here," Jason remarked, aware that Bryan and Aaron were extremely close even though the two men were as different as night and day.

"You know doctors," Bryan grumbled. "Said something about having no interest to corrupting paradise with the evils of alcohol and having no desire to start AA meetings in Valinor. This is what happens when you get married."

Elrohir paused long enough to swat Bryan on the shoulder, "it is my sister that you speak of?" Elrohir gave him a look.

"And yet you've never been married," Bryan pointed out with a grin.

"That is by choice," Elrohir replied and then added with a smile of mischief, "and by the appearance of it, a wise one as well."

"I thought so," Bryan retorted smugly.

**************

This was all because of that damned sword.

It sat there on his mantle piece staring back at him, issuing challenge even though he knew it was perfect ludicrous to assume that he could wield it like its former master but the gauntlet was nevertheless thrown. In days of old, the weapon had ridden into battle with a king, it was a symbol of his sovereignty and power, Excalibur to Arthur and a rallying point for thousands to fight against ultimate evil. To wield it in battle was to realize the potential in himself, the man he once was and the man he could be.

Which was now why he was in the position of having his ass continuously kicked by a smirking elf.

Aaron Stone stared at Legolas Greenleaf who was standing over him with his own sword, smiling as he tripped over in what was at least the dozen time in the last hour. Anduril lay sprawled at his feet, staring at him judgmentally for putting it through this embarrassment. Aaron was sure that if the weapon could talk, it would be telling him to forget this idea and just return it to the mantle piece. However, Aaron was not about to give up, he was not about to give up because was determined, he was resolute and at the very least, aiming to wipe that smug grin off Legolas' face.

"Come Aaron," Legolas offered him a hand to help him up. "We should try again. You must learn to evade my blade a little better. Your skill requires a little more practice."

"You're enjoying this," Aaron stared at him as he stood up begrudgingly and picked up Anduril once more.

"Enjoy seeing my best friend beaten and demoralized?" Legolas looked at him with an expression of hurt on his refined feature before bursting into a grin. "It is the most enjoyment I have experienced in centuries."

"Were you ever able to beat Aragorn?" Aaron asked as they stood outside the grassy knoll near his and Eve's home that had become their practice floor since he had decided to learn sword craft seriously. He brushed the bits of grass and dust that had attached itself to his clothes since this session had begun.

"Not always," Legolas answered honestly. "He was the best swordsman of his day, he learnt to wield a blade fighting elves and so among men, this made him exceptionally swift. I have seen him thrust into battle with great numbers to emerge victorious with many around him dead. The man had no equal in battle," Legolas replied thinking of the adventures he had shared with Aragorn, the times they had lived through together. Despite the passage of so much time, Legolas had yet to know so heady a moment as his race across Rohan tracking the hobbits with Aragorn and Gimli.

"Yeah," Aaron turned away, "he was quite the guy."

Legolas sensed something in the human's voice at that moment, a tension that was not there before. "Aaron, I have upset you."

"No," Aaron shook his head, telling himself that this was foolishness. He was a psychiatrist for Christ's sake; he shouldn't be feeling this inadequacy. "It's nothing."

"We have known each other too long for you attempt to deceive me," he looked at Aaron critically.

"That's just it Legolas," he met the elf's eyes. "We don't know each other all that long. You knew Aragorn. I'm not him."

"I am aware of that in every way, Aaron," Legolas placed a hand on his shoulder, revealing his great age and wisdom at that moment. "I mourn Aragorn and there is not a day that I do not miss the times we have shared but I am grateful for the new adventures you and I have seen through. I know you are not he. You are my friend because you are Aaron who is a great healer, who has more strength than you know, who brought home to us Olorin and the Evenstar and cannot wield a blade to save his own skin," Legolas added with a grin.

Aaron met his gaze with a look, "your people are meant to be serene and soothing. What happened to you?"

"My father blames it on my friendship with humans and dwarves," Legolas retorted with mischief. "It has ruined me."

"Tell me," Aaron replied feeling a little better after Legolas' words, "did Aragorn have the urge to beat the crap out of you for being such a smart ass?"

"Constantly," Legolas smirked, "however, he knew better than to try."

Which was not at all true because Legolas could remember instances when Aragorn had been angry enough to make him account for his actions. While they had never come to a real match, he knew that Aragorn had been fast enough to take him if the king had so desired.

"Well," Aaron said with an evil gleam in his eyes, "it was probably because you're so pretty."

Legolas' face darkened. "That is not amusing."

"Oh but it is," Aaron continued to tease, " it must be the long hair."

"I warn you," Legolas bristled. "I may not kill you but I know how to leave you a scar for good measure."

"Hey I'm armed too," Aaron gestured to Anduril as they started to head back towards the house.

"Please," Legolas snorted. "I am in more danger from a hobbit with a rock than you at this moment."

"Right here buddy," the human snorted completed with hand gesture that Legolas recognized from his time in modern day Arda as being not at all courteous.

Returning to the house at the edge of Tirion, Legolas still could not become accustomed to the small, provincial home that Aaron and Eve had chosen for themselves. Though it was furnished with all the necessary comforts, Legolas thought it was too small for a daughter of Elrond to inhabit. If anything, it reminded him a little of Bag End in its quaint manner. However, he noted that many of the humans arriving in Valinor in recent times preferred residences such as this. For elves, who liked the comfort of communal dwelling, this seemed rather isolationist. Still humankind had changed over the last hundred thousand years and they had to be forgiven for their eccentricities.

"If it soothes you any better," Legolas added as they came through the door way, "you are improving."

"Really?" Aaron looked at him skeptically, "I am becoming better than just awful?"

"Now stop feeling sorry for yourself," Legolas retorted. "At least you are learning. My effort to teach Bryan has been met with some remark about pigs taking flight."

Aaron cracked a grin, "well you know Bryan," he shrugged. "If it doesn't have things going boom spectacularly, he's not all the interested. Although if he screws up at home with what he's presently doing, I'm selling tickets when Tory finds out."

"Ah his brewing of ale you mean," Legolas nodded. "He intended to gain my participation in this affair but I was not interested. I believe Elrohir is helping him however. I do not imbibe spirits well."

"Yeah," Aaron grinned as he went into the kitchen for some coffee, "I heard about that poem you recited at your first wedding. The one about the young lady from Minas Tirith whose body was shaped like a..."

"I do not believe you need to recite the whole thing," Legolas cut him off, his expressed scrunched into chagrin as he remembered the incident where he had been so inebriated that he had made a complete and utter spectacle of himself during his wedding to Melia. Fortunately when it was time to take his oaths of marriage to Ariel, he had learnt better.

Aaron laughed, "well just for that, I won't tell you the one about the preacher, the rabbi and the Buddhist..."

***********

Frank Miller was in heaven.

All right not actually heaven but as close to heaven as an archaeologist could manage. He was surrounded by books so old that they were almost living history in itself, beyond the data recorded within him. In the great elvish library of Tirion, Frank had been throwing himself into the business of learning everything there was to know about this new world he had stumbled into. It was ironic. When he had first learnt of elves and Middle-earth, he had been certain that his entire life's pursuit had been one big fallacy but now that he had arrived in Valinor, he was learning otherwise. Everything was new again, a fresh page that he could not tear his eyes away from no matter how much he tried. He knew he was being obsessed and was neglecting his family somewhat but they were accustomed to his academic episodes where he was buried in study for weeks on end.

At first Frank had required the use of a translator to read most of the texts but then he got tired of having to tax poor Elladan's time and so he began to learn how to speak it. It was not difficult for Frank whose IQ point were high into genius level to grasp the finer points of Quenya and Sindarin. It was all in the alphabet he had said and if he could learn to read Sanskrit and Cuneiform, then this though complex, was not impossible. He had poured through most of the First Age texts, learning the history of the Simarils whose end history he had played a small part. He learnt that despite their seemingly placid and idyllic appearance, the elves could be most warlike and capable of rampaging violence just like any other race.

What fascinated him however, were the dwarves. It sounded odd to the hearing but it was the truth.

The history books, those he had read beyond the First Age spoke of the dwarves and the part they played in the affairs of Middle earth. Their fates were closely intertwined with the races of men and elves through the ages even if he read them as being somewhat isolationist. They were largely concerned with their own affairs, natural miners and craftsman who produced some of the most exquisite objects to have ever emerged from the mind of an artist, a fascinating study Frank found. However, beyond the Fourth Age, little was known of their fates. The elf Legolas, whom Frank found to be a kindred spirit in his appreciation of the dwarf culture, had told him much about what he knew personally and Frank had not missed the intense sadness in the elven prince's eyes when he spoke about the dwarf Gimli. Frank had the sense that Legolas felt it somewhat unfair that while his human friends had been reincarnated, there was of yet not an appearance from his old friend Gimli in a new form.

The old wizard Gandalf, who came to see him on numerous occasions and found it enormously funny that he should find Frank in a library surrounded by books and maddeningly would not tell him why, remarked that the spirit of dwarves go to the depths of the earth in death. There, they awaited for the End of Days to be called by their creator Aule to aid in the remaking of the world in the aftermath of typical Armageddon like events. However, what intrigued Frank was not so much where they would be when that day arose but rather where they had been since. They had no Valinor to hide themselves and the modern world had no recollection of dwarves other than in fairy tales.

So what had happened to them?

He was pondering the question, surrounded by books played across the table in an unruly fashion with notes all over the place. Miranda said she had never seen him happier than when he had a puzzle to unravel and this was a challenging as they came. He wanted to go back to the places where their strongholds had been, explore the caves where they mined Mithril and learnt what happened to make their entire race vanish off the face of the earth for the past one hundred thousand years. When things were not so dangerous back in the real world, what Frank deemed the life before Valinor, he intended to go back and explore that question more fully.

"I can see why Sorunme is so vexed," Elladan paused at the door way to the little annex that Frank had claimed as his own. "Have you every book in the library here?" He asked surveying the collection on the table as he entered.

"Unfortunately," Frank peered over his glasses, "you people have yet to discover the benefits of a PC or a databases so I have to find some way of having all the information I need at my finger tips."

"Your people rely too much on your devices," Elladan remarked coming to sit down, "picking up one of the text and musing over it.

"Says the man who spends most of his time on Aaron's boat watching the Xena box set that Cirdan brought from England," Frank retorted sarcastically.

"I shall cross the sea to this land where she dwells and meet her," Elladan said seriously, "I am told by Jason that it is very beautiful."

"New Zealand," Frank rolled his eyes, "where men are men, women are women and sheep are nervous."

"What?" Elladan stared at him. "What does sheep to do with it?"

"Never mind," Frank shrugged, "so did you come here for any particular reason or do you miss my singular wit?"

"Your wit is singular," Elladan retorted and Frank had the sense that it was not a compliment. "However, you are correct, I was wondering whether you have given any thoughts as to going with me to Formenos. It is the ancient stronghold of Feanor, the creator of the Silmarils."

Frank looked up with interest and could not deny that he would like to see the legendary home of Feanor, the elf who by all accounts was responsible for the great wars of the First Age. He also wanted to know the mind that had crafted the Silmarils and sometimes, the place where the master craftsman had conducted his work was more telling than all the books in the library. "I'm all yours," Frank replied with a grin and then paused a moment, "I'd like to bring Miranda and the kids with me as well. I've been dreadfully neglectful of them since I arrived and I should like to make it up to them."

"Well you have been behaving like a hermit," Elladan pointed out. "If it were not for the crumbs left on your plate when meals were brought to you and this continually growing mountain of books and scrolls, we would not even know you were alive."

"Very droll," Frank gave him a look. "It just so happens, I am attempting to unravel a mystery."

"A mystery?" Elladan's brow arched. "I do not believe that there are any left in Valinor. One hundred thousand years on this island has ensured that we know everything that has ever transpired."

"I'm not surprised," Frank replied, unable to imagine such a thing as a culture being trapped in stasis for so long. The evolution of the elves had been slight and he could well understand why so many of them were leaving these shores to explore the world outside after being hidden away for so long. Frank had no doubt that this would inspire a new age for them as well as provoke a burst of creative and technological advancement that was long overdue in his opinion. A race had to evolve or it would grow stagnant. Nature despised a vacuum.

"Actually," he met Elladan's gaze, "I was trying to learn what happened to the dwarves."

"The dwarves?" Elladan exclaimed in surprise. "We assumed they retreated to their mines deep in the earth."

"My people have never seen them," Frank declared. "We have no record of them on any level. There are stories about dwarves like there are of elves but they are fairy tales, not based on any tangible fact. I can't believe they had simply disappeared without a trace. These texts indicate they played a big part in the events of the first three ages, something must have become of them after that."

Elladan did not know how to answer but were certain that the answers that Frank sought out were not to be found on Valinor. The Eldar and Durin's folk had never enjoyed harmonious relations despite the rare instances of camaraderie that existed like that of Legolas and Gimli. After the last of his people had left the world of Middle earth behind, there was scarcely a thought pondered as to what had become of the dwarves. Like the rest of the elves, Elladan assumed they had confined themselves to their mountain enclaves or deep beneath the earth, in the mines they loved so much.

"I cannot offer you the answers you seek," Elladan confessed, "perhaps if we see Olorin, he may be able to inquire of Aule what has happened to his children."

Frank was momentarily satisfied by the possibility although the truth was he had suspicions of his own regarding the fate of the dwarves and despite the fact that the elves seemed to believe they may have faded into time, Frank believed that the dwarves were not as diminished as everyone thought. In fact, he was almost certain that they existed and were waiting for the right time to emerge, whenever that might be.

And lately for reasons Frank could not discern, he felt as if that time was approaching fast.

***********

There were moments when Ariel, wife of Legolas wondered whom he had truly married.

While she could not deny his love for her, that was apart of her that always wondered who it was he saw when he looked at her. For most part, there was no doubt in her mind that when Legolas looked upon her, it was Ariel that he saw, Ariel who had been his wife these hundred millennia, who had never bore him sons or daughters because he had claimed they were happy enough without children. Then there were other moments, quiet, haunting times when she saw a flicker of something else in his clear blue eyes, a glimmer that was alien as it was familiar. It was those instances when she was certain that their life together was merely to him an extension of the one he had shared with the wife whose soul he believed she possessed.

Ariel did not remember Melia, daughter of Hezare though she was spoken fondly by both Gimli when he was alive and Haldir. She knew that Legolas believed her to be the incarnation of Melia's parted mortal soul, given life in an elven body and returned to him. He had known this the moment he laid eyes upon her and learnt that she had been born on the day that his beloved Melia had passed. She tried to remember that other life, that woman who had captured Legolas' heart so, who wore that dress, a faded blue thing little more than a scrap of cloth now, kept preserved in the chest that even she was forbidden to touch. If she remembered Melia, it would be easier to bear but she did not and each year, her doubt grew just a little more until it had become a gaping hole inside of her she dared not confess to him.

When she had met Eve McCaughley for the first time, Ariel had met a kindred spirit. Someone who understood all too well what it was like to exist in a world where those around her remembered clearly who she had been, especially when she herself did not. Surrounded by a family and friends who had met the Evenstar and knew that Eve was her incarnation in mortal flesh, Eve had had been just as overwhelmed and it had been Ariel's pleasure to offer her friendship. They had become fast friends since Eve's arrival and spent much time together when their husband were off rediscovering exploits of their own.

"I think he has never wanted a child of mine," Ariel said one day as they sat on the deck of the Anemone looking out into the Bay of Eldamar."

"What?" Eve looked at Ariel in shock. "Don't be insane," she refuted. "Leggy adores you."

"He adores Melia," Ariel said with a sad expression as she stared at the dance of light across the water's surface, "and he already had children with her."

"I think you're wrong," Eve said quickly, hating to think that Legolas could be capable of being so short sighted. "I think he just wants you all to himself."

"I wonder if that is true," she replied, shifting her gaze to Eve. "Your father and mother consider you theirs even though you are mortal. You are not Undomiel and they see that and know this is the truth. They know you have your own path to walk and sometimes path is filled with danger and chance. I do not think Legolas feels the same about me."

Eve wanted to deny it but she could not because Legolas was extremely over protective of Ariel and one had to wonder how much of it had to do with his being afraid for her safety as he was afraid for losing the love of his life yet again. Elves mated only once it seemed and when they lost a mate, the pining did not cease with time. In the days of old before the elves lived with danger in Middle earth, before they removed to the safety of Valinor, elves that lost their mates could pine to death. Legolas had lost his precious Melia a mere fifty years after their marriage, a single drop in the endless pool of elven mortality.

"You know," Eve said giving her a look, "if I knew this was going to depress you so much, I wouldn't have told you about the baby."

"Oh I am sorry," Ariel said automatically as she saw Eve's hand resting on her belly. "I did not mean to dampen your spirits. I am terribly grateful you chose to confide in me about the babe."

"Well Aaron didn't want to make a big deal of it just yet," Eve smiled radiantly, filling with pride and happiness at the life swelling inside of her, the life that had been given form by her love and Aaron's. "You people have a celebration for everything and I can't just imagine the fanfare that will come about if Elrond and Celebrian find out they're going to be grandparents. They feel cheated as is since it's highly improbable that either of the twins will ever get married. We're just going to savor it a little before we make the announcement."

"They are merely happy to see their family grow," Ariel answered, grateful for Eve's companionship and understanding. "I shall be a wonderful aunt to your daughter."

"Daughter?" Eve crooked a brow, "your keen elf sense telling you something that I don't know about?"

"Well after repeated hearing of the tales of Thelma and Louise," Ariel said with a smile of mischief, "a daughter can be as full of possibility as a boy child so I should hope a girl since I have wealth of new found wisdom to impart to her."

"Well power to you sister," Eve laughed.

*********

He had waited.

He could have emerged at any time but he chose to wait.

Patience had been his greatest virtue. In truth, it was his only virtue. Though he had more than enough power to tear a ragged hole through this world, he had bided his time, ensuring that his strength returned to him in all its fullness. Strength that he had stolen from his mentor and then used to hide the evidence of his crime, deep in the pit of that abyss he had found Melkor entombed. He had slipped out unnoticed, drawing away all of the dark one's power, tricking Melkor into believing that he could be trusted, all the while planning the fallen Valar's final end. Melkor had been so surprised when he had realised the truth, that he had fashioned a servant whose ambition and ruthlessness outstrip anything he had ever imagined himself capable.

Sauron, former dark lord of Mordor, relished that surprise more than he relished snuffing out Melkor's existence forever.

Once he had taken all he could from Melkor, he had concealed his crime because it was not yet time for him to emerge. The body in which he had been trapped, flesh injured and vacant needed healing. He needed the casing of meat to move about in the world he would soon assume as his own. Odd how he had become so attached to the thing after three hundred years of existence as a human. As his mind began the slow process of repair, neurons finding connection in the broken soup of neural pathways, other things became clear. He sought out his minions, whispered softly in their ears, allowing the shadows to acts as his heralds.

He allowed Namo to go about his business, maintaining the Halls of Mandos while he traveled its less frequented paths. Moved through the craggy passages that took him away from the hallowed places where the elves were consecrated upon death, he followed the dark paths to the dungeons where the demons were kept under lock and key. Demons who died had souls too and though theirs were dark and terrible, they could not be vanquished for their souls were the property of Eru and the Valar were not allowed to affect it. It was only the souls of men that the Valar could not restrain for they had a higher plan under Eru's gaze. However, the dark things, the creatures of Melkor twisted hatred, slain through the ages, lingered in the deepest, most innermost dungeon that Namo could design in the halls of Mandos.

There they waited the eternity in darkness, scrambling for escape but finding none and turning upon each other in the futility of their despair. He found them, the balrogs, the urloki and the watchers. Evil dark things whose life force was commended to this prison like Pandora's box awaiting opening a new. Except it would be no woman who would unleashed them by her curiosity. This time, it would be he. He spoke to them, whispered his promises of life beyond death of an existence of exquisite pleasure, a world above where the feasting was good and the victims were in the billions, they listened in the dark swearing their allegiance and waiting for the moment to act.

And there were others, beyond Mandos, waiting in the shadow world for direction, waiting for him to come back. He called to them, told them to prepare and make ready for war that was coming and this time, he knew how to win and it would have nothing to do with a ring or power. It had to do with chaos. Unadulterated, simple, pure, beatific chaos. He would spread it across the globe like ball of fire. He wold see it all burn to ashes and those who had chose to defy him would live just long enough to see all that they held dear turn into a cinder spark of fire.

He called to them in the waking world, to those who lived closed to the core of the world that had been driven there by the machinery of change, of a world infested by the pestilence of humanity. They remained hidden in the earth, in the dark crevasses where neither man, elf nor beast walked. They waited slumbering in the bottom of cold waters, far away from the surface and the light. He spoke to them, commanded them and reminded them that he was not dead, that he was very much alive no matter what the Valar might think. It was time for them to emerge from their hiding places, to lift their heads once more and join him in a fight that would cover the world in darkness and give them dominion over it once again.

As it was when Melkor first left the Timeless Halls far ahead of the others who had remained afraid by the possibilities of what lay beyond, when the world was dark and the feeding was good.

And would be again when he had led them to their dark victory.

********

He who was Namo, lord of Mandos sensed a shift he could not explain.

In Halls of Waiting where the souls of men and elves came to wait before passing into what was beyond, the Doorsman of the Valar could feel a tremor in his heart he could not explain. It was a strange sensation and had he been mortal or elf, he would have recognized it as uneasiness but for one who was eternal and had stood in the presence of Eru, it was merely a curiosity he could not define. His mate Vaire sensed it too and had paused in her weaving in the Halls of Dead to comment about the shift but neither could say what it was exactly that had give them this odd feeling.

He found himself moving through the corridors of his fortress, his eyes sweeping across the desolate grey of the Encircling Sea. The waves seemed to churn with some unspoken menace and all of it, like a sky that was suddenly covered by cloud, felt wrong. He moved through the halls of the dead, studied the histories of the world, help in memory by the crafty hands of his wife's weaving. He saw the tapestries that depicted the birth of the world, the destruction of the lamps and the War of the Wrath. She was weaving new tapestries now, recording all that had come to pass in recent times, for these days were are watershed days and in the ages to come, would be revered by the generations yet to be born.

He traveled through the halls where only men now seemed to come for it had been many leagues since and elf had passed this way. He left the safety of these known places and took the winding staircase that seemed to corkscrew deep into the earth where his most dangerous prisoner was trapped in cage of useless flesh. He was not the only visitor who took this dark path since the arrival of his latest prisoner. Aule too had made this journey even though Namo had warned against it. It would serve nothing, he had warned but Aule was stubborn as he was determined.

After all, Sauron had been his servant.

Namo suspected that there was a part of Aule that never quite recovered from the shock of what Sauron had become. The craft that Aule had taught his servant had been used to serve Melkor and to forge the rings of power that had brought so much grief across the lands of Middle earth. Some could not be saved, Namo had said to him on numerous occasions and particularly of late when he chose to torment himself by trying to understand how he had failed Sauron so spectacularly as a mentor and was powerless to stop his servant's terrible ruin.

Descending into the shadows where others did not venture willingly, Namo journeyed to the depths were Sauron, former lord of Mordor and disciple of Melkor was incarcerated. The air began to chill from the warmth of Valinor's heat. Though the temperatures were always cool in the Halls of the Dead, it was never icy. The dead seemed to absorb heat the way no living mind could comprehend, but there was a design to it that only Namo understood. However, as he made his way to Sauron, the cold deepened further away from the cool he was accustomed, becoming sharp and invasive.

Something was a foot that he could not understand and though good sense would have him returning to the surface and asking Vaire to join him for there was prudence in such reasoning, Namo continued to Sauron's cell nonetheless. The door at which the steps emptied against stood tall and high, made of iron and stone. It was a cruel looking thing that towered over the heads of men and elf. Thick heavy gears and long bolts of steel held it in place and only Ainur was capable of opening it.

The door opened without Namo having to exert any physical strength. It simply knew that the master of its domain had arrived and slowly, it creaked open until the creak moved into the heavy grounding of metal against the stone floor. He paused when he saw wisps of vapor exuding from the widening cracks and as he touched the walls, felt his hand shrink back as if it were made of ice for it was cold enough to be discerned as such. Alarmed as much as an immortal god could be, Namo entered the cell that had been Sauron's prison since his return to Valinor.

The innards of the room were little more than a hollow carved in the rock. A large stone platform lay in the center of the room where the mortal body of Sauron was stretched in silent repose. As Namo approached him, the Valar's gaze shifted over the ice particles forming against the stone walls and even on the floor. A think layer of mist swirled around his waist as he moved and through this fog, he saw Sauron lying comfortably where he had been since his arrival, eyes closed unaware of anything. Namo came to a pause before him and stared at the mortal face of David Saeran as he was known to the world of men.

"What mischief does your slumbering mind conjure Lord of Mordor?" Namo asked as he swept his consciousness through the room, trying to discern what force had caused these aberrant phenomena

Saeran opened his eyes and replied.

"No mischief," he replied, "just a lure."

Namo's eyes widened in surprise, "how long have you been conscious?" In truth, the question in his mind was how long had Sauron been conscious and concealing it?

"Longer than you know," Saeran sat up and swung his feet over his hard bed to land on the floor, fully upright. The Valar towered over him as they often did among lesser creatures but Saeran was no longer afraid. What he had done to Melkor ensured he would never be afraid of any Valar again, merely cautious. "You are wondering how I managed it."

As he spoke, the great door slammed shut with a thunderous roar that would not penetrate the depths to give away what was happened. Namo did not know yet but he slipped into a juncture between realities, like the small space between sheets of glass lying face down upon each other. Namo turned to the sound and then faced Sauron, comprehension dawning upon him that he had more to fear than he knew. He prepared himself to fight but his enemy had been waiting a long time for this moment and struck first.

The burst of energy swept him off his feet and slammed him against the wall, hard. Namo who had not been called to do battle in almost a hundred thousand years had forgotten what it was like to engage in such a physical display of force, particularly with one of the Ainur. The power that assaulted him was unbelievable. Namo had not felt the like since Manwe had led the others to Arda in the War of the Wrath. Sauron was Ainur but he was not Valar, he should not have this kind of strength.

Namo was reeling from the attack and gripped with confusion. He was probably trying to discern where all this power had come from, Saeran thought as he approached the Valar god of the Underworld. "You Valar were always so gullible," he shook his head in disgust as he began to invoke the spell that had been carefully prepared for the purpose. "You let Melkor roam loose in Valinor even after all the destruction he caused in Arda, gave him free reign to bring Ungoliant into this land and steal the Simarils. Always with you it is half measures that result in a recurrence of the same problem. I am happy to say that I will not be so foolish."

Namo looked up at him and saw that Sauron was chanting and prepared to act when suddenly, he found he could not move. His form remained frozen in place. The cold that had been travelling through his body was almost complete now. Namo had thought it was because of the ice but now it was dawning on him that there was more at work here then he possibly knew. He prepared to exert himself to break free of these invisible bonds but he could not. Frustrated, he tried to change to shape, to turn himself into something less tangible when the cold vapors that had been swirling around the room rushed around him to keep him in place.

"What have you done?"

"Just a minor spell of binding," Saeran said unsurprised by what was occurring since it was by his design. "You may have forgotten but I was also called the Necromancer in my time. For years, I collected all these wonderful spells to use against the Valar should they ever turn their attention to me but I never had the power to make any of it possible. I lived in fear that the Valar would come seek me out and deal retribution as you had done to Melkor. I even plotted my escape from the void, an escape it appeared served my former master well. However, things have changed now. I more than I ever was and this time, I do have the power to ensure that none of you interfere with my plans."

"Your conjuring may prevent me for stopping you but you do not have any power over all of us combined," Namo hissed at he felt the ice forming over his body, trapping him. "Manwe will smash you into nothingness!"

"He is welcomed to try," Saeran smiled as he stood back and sensed that Namo was using the last of his strength, not yet frozen by his spell of binding to call Vaire who was even now looking up from her latest tapestry in concern. Her first impulse would be to come to her husband's aide. While she made her way down here, Saeran would be busy elsewhere. He looked at Namo and saw the ice travelling up the Valar lord's neck, his body like a crude statue. He was struggling but the ice was symbolic of a spell that he could not break, one that Saeran had fashioned specifically for the Valar. Like the spell that held Melkor in place, this one used the Valars' own power to create their own prison.

"Goodbye my Lord Namo," Saeran said with a smile as he proceeded out of the room. "I thank you for your hospitality and hope that we meet under better circumstances Now if you excuse me," he met the Valar lord's eyes with a glint of menace, "your lady and I have business to attend."

"NO!" Namo struggled as the ice encased his lips and the word because frozen like the rest of him would soon be.

************

"Look Sam!" Fred Bailey giggled as she pointed out another wriggling jellyfish struggling against the surf to return to the sea.

"You're not supposed to touch it!" Sam said reproachfully as he saw Fred and Pip kneeling next to the creature, trying to resist the urge to prod the thing as it lay against the sandy ground.

"Don't be such a spoilsport Sammie," Pip returned as he stuck his finger at the jellyfish and touched it experimentally. The creature squirmed a little at the boy's touch and tried desperately to move away, shuddering forward with what little musculature that afforded it mobility.

"I'm telling mum," Sam replied pulling his hand away before he got stung or worse. "You know what she said."

"You wouldn't," Pip looked at him with distaste and then glanced at the shore where mum and Aunt Tory was sitting around talking while they played.

"If you get stung I'll be in trouble," Sam insisted then turned to Fred and explained, "big brothers always do."

"It's okay Pip," Fred smiled, having played mediator to both brothers numerous times since her arrival here. "I don't think it likes us touching it anyway."

Fred saw Sam flashing her a grateful smile and she knew that their relationship was almost as close to the one he shared with Pip. Their friendship was closer than blood. It was powerful stuff that she did not understand but relied upon. She knew that no matter what happened, what darkness came upon them, he would be at her side because that's how it was supposed to be. She did not always understand its power but she knew it to be the truth. Sometimes, she saw the adults in her life understood this as well, particularly Gandalf and Legolas. Since his arrival in Valinor, they were near inseparable and it was no coincidence that Sam's home was built near hers.

Bryan seemed very happy to have his brother and Fred liked Aunt Miranda very much. When she grew up, she wanted to be just like Sam's mum who was very brave and was afraid of nothing. She was also plenty fun and loved spending time with all three. It was a different kind of love than the one she had for Tory who was like her mum. Tory liked to hug and when Fred woke up frightened in the night, Tory would hold her until she went to sleep and make her hot chocolate. Tory wasn't like her mum but she helped Fred not miss her as much.

"Come on Pip," Fred took the younger boy by the hand and led him away from the jellyfish. "We can collect seashells."

"Okay," Pip nodded, thinking Fred to be terribly wonderful even if she was a girl. He liked her eyes. They looked like the sapphire ocean beyond the white shore. "Come on Sam!" He beckoned his brother.

Sam followed them as Fred and Pip ran along the shore, noticing the gaze of their mother following their movement. Miranda waved at him and Sam beamed happily at his mother, liking the way the sunshine made her golden hair glitter. It was a beautiful day with the sun shining high in the sky. In the distant horizon he could see peaks of Tol Eressea and the islands beyond it. It never rained in this place, not that Sam knew anyway. Everyday it was shining and bright, where the air smelt sweet and there were plenty of places to run and play.

Folk here were nicer too, not like the world they used to know. While he had found it easier to believe in elves, Sam was rather surprised by how mum and dad seemed to grasp this concept without too much difficulty. Adults were not known for their belief in such things and yet dad seemed to get along famously with Elladan and Uncle Bryan was always going off somewhere with Aaron and Legolas. However, it was Gandalf who was the children's favorite who often came to visit them with stories of dragons and great adventures, some that even seemed familiar to Sam though he was not sure why. Gandalf sometimes took them on long walks to the beach and explained to them true things which adults had difficulty expressing.

Suddenly, he saw Fred stopping in mid run.

For reasons, he could not understand, he felt a shiver of cold run down his spine as she stood there, the ocean surf swirling around her feet as she stared into nothingness, the wind whipping at her long dark hair. Her brow was knitted in an expression of concern, her lips parted in fear. Sam felt his entire being connected to her then, feeling her anxiety, feeling her fear. He was attuned to her in a way he did not understand but Gandalf had explained to him that this was a true thing he had to believe, that must never be questioned. Sam believed the wizard who knew more about them both then he cared to reveal.

"What is it?"

She did not speak, her eyes sweeping across the landscape, raking over him and Pip, moving past Miranda and Tory to the jagged peaks of the Pelori Mountain Ranges. The wind seemed to pick up speed as she made this journey of observation. Sam looked up and saw clouds being dragged across the sky like a dark curtain. Shadows began to appear all across the landscape and there was a noticeable shift in the weather. An ill wind seemed to have swept across the land, dragging with it a sense of ominous foreboding. The sea began to churn and suddenly the crystal blue water began to diminish in its brilliance.

"What's happening?" He hurried to her as the wind began to blow a gale, whistling loudly in their ears as she saw leaves and trees beginning to sway and bend.

"He's awake," she looked at him with fear. "He's awake!"

"He is?" Sam's blood ran cold. He knew who she was speaking of. She had told him when they had first met.

"Yes," she nodded and grabbed Pip's hand. "Come on!" She started running towards Miranda and Tory.

Sam followed Fred as she hurried towards the two women who were looking about in confusion, wondering what had happened to the bright, sunny day that was now tortured into such desolation.

Fred could hear him. She did not know how it was possible but she could feel him.

He was chanting words she did not understand, words laced with cruelty and malice. They sounded like curses not words and he continued to speak them, increasing in tempo as he continued his recital. She did not know where he was but Fred was certain he was close and he was unleashed from his prison. There was power in him too, power that was different than before. The words continued to echo in her head and as they grew louder, the sun became dim in the sky as more and more clouds rolled over the land.

"What's happening?" Miranda asked when the children reached her.

"I don't know," Tory answered, looking around with growing apprehension. In all the time she had been in Valinor, she had never seen the weather change so dramatically. In fact, she had never seen a day on this island that was anything but idyllic. Now it looked as if it were about to storm and not just storm if the intensity of the wind increased but hurricane.

His words were almost frenzied now and the clouds of grey covered all the sky and then sun disappeared entirely. A dark shadow fell upon them all as the sea became choppy and waves began to hurl themselves against the shore like tormented spirits. The wind roared in their eyes, chasing away the warmth of the sun and allowing the cold to sweep mercilessly over them. Its intensity was such that none were left effected and everyone was soon clutching themselves for heat. With this new peril, the words suddenly died down and yet the desolation remained.

"Oh no," Fred suddenly exclaimed as she looked at the distance and realised what had happened, "look" she sad in a hushed voice. All of them turned to where her terrified gaze was staring and knew instantly what was wrong, why suddenly Valinor was plunged into this darkness.

Mount Taniquetil, the home of Manwe, Varda and all the Valar for as long as Valinor had stood, was gone.

Part Two
The Torn Curtain

Sauron, former lord of Mordor had come to a surprising revelation as he stood before the Forbidden Vaults were none may enter save Lord of the Underworld, he learnt that he knew nothing of power. All his long existence he had sought it without any inclination of what true power was. All he had experienced before his moment were scraps thrown from a table he was never allowed to reach. Scrabbling for morsels he thought would sate his belly but in truth he knew nothing of true essence of what he hungered.

Now he knew. Now he had feasted at the table and had cast all others away. The spell he had performed ensured that they were trapped in the very realm they had used to keep the elves safe and protected. For the Valar, nothing had changed. They were still in the Undying Lands, kept form the sight of men and separated from the savagery of Arda. Their charges however, were not as fortunate. For first time in a hundred thousand years, elves breathed the same air as men and looked upon the same stars. It would not be long before orbital satellites and global positioning devices completely alien to the Eldar located the island that had appeared from nowhere

Welcome to the 21st century.

This David Saeran thought with a cruel smile as he took the next stop for his glorious plan. He stood before the Forbidden Vaults, the place prepared for the souls of those whom even Eru would not receive in death. This was the final rewards of the dragons and the balrogs, the dark things who had been created by Melkor in the great blackness before either the lamps or the great trees. When the world covered in darkness and the foul things of the earth had ruled like gods. Behind these doors were the great spiders, the krakens and shapeshifters. Millions of dark souls waiting rebirth, waiting to be lead out into the unsuspecting world.

Finally, Sauron Lord of Mordor, reborn in the mortal shell of David Saeran, would have the war he always wished.

The great doors had never been open and yet he could feel them, scratching at the wood, tugging at the locks. He could see the door shuddering had not been dispatched, it was likely that they would never escape. However, the Valar did not know to fight, not really. They relied on minions to wage their wars and even when they fought, they fought in the old way and Sauron had never fought fair. He did not fight to win. He fought to kill and that was an advantage his pure hearted betters never understood. They did not have it in them to be so bloodthirsty and because of that, he would win.

Standing before the doors, he relished the hatred within and let him nourish him. Strange how the darker emotion was the easiest from to which to feed. He let their malice course through his veins, felt their long buried need for vengeance and knew that their time had come. The world was going to know what hell truly was by the time he was done with it. Using a scant exertion of power, the doors began to move, pushing inwards, against the edge that held it place. He focussed, forcing it to part before him, until the hinges began to bend and the strain of metal groaned lethargically in the dark corridor, far away from the light.

"Yield," he said confidently as the doors forced forward until the great surface became fissured as wood splinter and the cracks of eerie amber light begin to pierce through the widening gaps. A smell that could only be described as all things dying and rotten, meandered wetly through the cold, chilling air. He took a deep breath of this and felt himself further strengthened by the stench that gave his dark soul further sustenance.

With a earth-shattering roar, the doors tore themselves apart, splinters rained across his skin, fragments of wood covered the ground and as the dust settled, Saeran smiled, aware that the Forbidden Vault now lay open to him. The great locks and chains were now unruly piles at his feet, a testament to the freedom that was he was enjoying and that he would soon dispense to those who had been incarcerated behind these doors for so many ages. Despite all their efforts to escape, he could sense their astonishment that the Vault was at last opened to them.

He stepped forward past the dark done steps and stood among the wreckage of the doors, hearing the rumble of confusion, the cacophony of voices from all manner of fel beasts that lay within, waiting for him to address who he was. They knew him of course, they knew his essence and though he could sense their confusion for they knew not if he was Sauron or Morgoth, they did not mistake his power and the shadow world in which he walked. He walked only a few feet before he found himself at the edge of a floor, looking down into a pit of amber light. Tall shadows loomed across the craggy rock, bodies crammed together in uncomfortable residence. Plump round bodies with too many legs attacked skittered across the rock floor, pacing their cage in impatience. Balrogs had stirred, their ash grey hide was beginning to cackle with heat, as if the mere promise of freedom had rekindled the fire of their hatred.

The worms and the dragons, the watchers and the balrogs, the spiders and the wolves waited in silence, waiting for him for to speak, an eternity of torment, caged together for only each other as sport, unable to die in this place. Unable to end as it was the right of all things who lived and breathed. Abandoned by the Valar and forgotten by Eru, these were the children of Morgoth, now his army of darkness.

"This time," he said to them all, his voice like a ill wind that became words they all could understand even if the language of Mordor was as forgotten as the kingdom itself. The Black Speech was timeless as the night. "This time we will rule. We will be a scourge that not even Iluvutar will stop. We will sweep a tide of blood and fire over this Arda and we destroy everything in sight. We will let none live that we can destroy. For what they have done to us, for how they have chained us, they will pay! Our minion over this world resumes at this hour. We will take back ARDA!"

The bellow of triumph could be heard across the world. In the shield volcanoes of Hawaii, the Kilauea, the Mauna Loa and the Loihi Seamount rumbled to life, spewing ash and lava into the air, until a cloud of black could be seen over the pristine islands. In Fiji the wind shifted, turning from a breeze into a gale that soon evolved into a tempest that signaled the coming of darkness. From deep beneath the waters of Loch Ness, in the caverns that many suspected was home to some dinosaur, the watcher hidden for ages, stirred to life. Beneath the ruins of what was once Mordor, the hatchlings of Uruk Hai thousands began to awake.

Deep within the earth, far beyond the reach of all human civilizations, others listened and heard the call of evil that was spreading through Arda above like a growing malignancy. They heard the denizen of the dark awaken in their secret places, stirred by the call of the shadow army emanating from the Mandos' open gates. Like all the others who were awakened from their ages long slumber, they too began to arm for war.

**********

It was the elves who felt it first.

Something pierced their skin far deeper than the points of a thousand blades the moment the sun disappeared from the skies behind a curtain of cloud. The cumulous that hid the blue sky from the lands of Valinor was so thick in its consistency that the darkness fell upon the land like shadow creatures claiming their domain. The wind swept across the island following the sudden shift in weather, a hard bitter wind that was laced with cold and sent a shudder through all who stood in its path. It made leaves curl in brittleness, trees twist and bend beneath the power of the gale force winds and turned a land seeming like paradise into a place of ominous desolation.

Aaron saw Legolas pale as they stood out in the open garden outside his house to resume sword practice again. The elf seemed short of breath, as if a terrible malaise had overcome him. His eyes filled with fear and for Aaron who rarely saw Legolas off balance, this was somewhat rather unnerving. He dropped his weapon, his brow furrowing as he stood there, overcome by some inner sense that Aaron did not possess, an expression of grave concern on his face. His eyes were searching, as if he were trying to discern the source of this disquiet without much success.

"Something has happened," Legolas said in an uneasy voice.

"Yeah," Aaron nodded, needing only to witness the look on Legolas' face and not the dramatic change in weather around them, to know this for a fact. "What's going on?"

"I do not know," Legolas answered, "I feel empty and cold as if something had swooped into my breast and stolen away the heart from me."

From an elf, this was not a good description of things.

"Has the weather ever changed like this before?" Aaron asked as he watched the stormy cloud, heavy with rain. Small pellets of water were starting to make themselves felt as he looked up into the tempestuous sky.

"Never," Legolas shook his head and suddenly stopped short. "By Valar!" He exclaimed.

For a moment Aaron thought the shock might actually have caused Legolas to swoon. The elf stared ahead, his face contorting in utter horror and as Aaron followed his gaze, understood instantly the reason for his terrible shock.

"Where is the mountain?" Aaron exclaimed when he saw the peak of Taniquetil, the home of the Valar gone. Where it had been standing there was only grey clouds and its disappearance was like the heart of this land had been stolen away. He was not an elf but seeing it gone, knowing that the Great Music that originated from it would be absent the next day left a feeling of dread.

"It is gone," Legolas stammered.

"How the hell can a goddamn mountain disappear!" Aaron demanded, his hand wrapped around Legolas who did not appear steady on his feet.

"I do not know," Legolas said breathlessly, "but there is dark evil in this land," he raised his eyes to meet Aaron. "I can feel it. It is here and it powerful."

"How could that be?" Aaron asked, unable to believe that anything was capable of harming them here. For a hundred thousand years, this land and the gods who dwelt in it had protected the elves from all that could threaten them. It was as near as paradise as one could imagine. Since arriving at its shores, he could not imagine living anywhere else. The woman he loved was here, the friends he had made and the family that was coming to being was here. To think it under threat, fired Aaron's fears almost as much as Legolas'.

"I do not understand but we must ride to Lorien with all haste," Legolas retorted, "we must find Gandalf and learnt what it is that has happened." The elf's fear was waning, giving way to give determination. Aaron saw his jaw set as he decided upon his course.

"Wait," Aaron stopped him as he stared walking toward his horse. "We should find the women first and make sure there are safe," he looked at the elf. "If there's danger, we should make sure the people care about are alright."

"Of course," Legolas nodded, wondering what could have been in his thoughts to have forgotten about Ariel and her safety. He had already lost her once, he could not bear if any harm came to her whilst he was on his quest to find Gandalf.

"We should also get to the others," Aaron suggested, referring to Bryan and Tory who did not live far from here. With the seemingly growing number of humans who were arriving in Valinor, they had congregated together mostly because it was easier to accustom oneself to life in Valinor with one's friends' close by. Perhaps it was the human need to form communities, Aaron had thought at the time. In any case, they were all fairly near to each other.

Suddenly, they heard a loud roar and both turned sharply to the east. Through the heavy rain clouds, they saw something terrible rising form behind the mountains, a surge of flame rising into the air, burning a hole through the clouds. It seemed profane to see such darkness in Valinor but there it was stretching towards the heavens malevolently, casting a sinister shadow over the island. Black specks littered the column of crimson. The tiny specks began to move of their own accord, like flies swarming the carcass of some dead beast and the sound that tore through the air was one that Legolas recognized immediately. He had not heard it more in more than a hundred thousand years but he remembered the bellow of Smaug in the last days of its life.

"We must find the others now," Legolas breaking his gaze away from it, his voice low. "We must go now!"

"What is it?" Aaron asked, lacking Legolas' eyesight to see what was coming.

"Do not argue with me," he said hastily as he hurried to the horses. "We must go NOW!"

He broke into a run as Legolas did the same, crossing the ground quickly as the terrible roar began to make the ground quake. He looked over his shoulder and saw the swarm spreading across the island though the were still too far away to make out However, he did not need to see them up close to know that it was terrible whatever they were. The look of fear on Legolas' face spoke more eloquently than anything he could see with his own eyes.

They mounted the horses that were skittish and uneasy where they remained in their stables. Since arriving on Valinor, Aaron had learned to ride and was slightly chagrined by how easily Eve took to it. Legolas as always, had taught him how to ride and Aaron was proud to say that after a few lessons had become proficient enough to be comfortable on the animals. These days, he was actually quite a good rider although he missed his Jaguar still. The car was most likely sitting in storage somewhere or impounded by FBI who thought it would give them some clue as to his whereabouts since he was the prime suspect in the destruction of the Malcolm Building.

Galloping furiously away from the house, they made a slight change of plan, choosing to go to Bryan's first because there was more going on than Legolas would tell him and the elf seemed to think there was safety in numbers. Legolas' pace on the horse he had named Arod was unrelenting and Aaron was grateful that he was a proficient rider for he would not have been able to keep up. Of course, none of the humans could ride horses the way Eric could. For some reason or another, the newsman who used to be Eomer of Rohan was the best horseman of them all. Legolas had declared what else could they expect from the King of the Riddermark.

The sound grew louder and the swarm was spread across Valinor now, a dark cancer growing in malignancy as it closed the distance. Suddenly, Aaron began to hear things, screams and cries of terror; the sound clenched his heart. Rain had begun to pelt down from the weeping sky, heavy drops of it that splattered against the skin and covered the land in a further mist of gray. The wind had picked up and it was a sharp, icy wind. He could see his breath escape him in vapors as he panted on the heavy ride. It reminded him of winters in New York but far colder than that.

Anduril sat in its scabbard in the saddle of his horse and Aaron did not know why but seeing the weapon gave him comfort somehow. He wondered if this was how Aragorn had felt charging into battle, knowing that the weapon, the symbol of his kingship would be at his side. It was strange to feel such affection for a thing but ever since it had come into his keeping, it felt as if the gears of some cosmic wheel had started to shift. Galadriel said that it was a sign that all things were in readiness though the lady could be damned cryptic when she wished to be.

There was panic in Valinor, Aaron discovered. He could see it in Legolas' eyes and he could tell by the screams that he was hearing as the dark swarm swooped into the cities at long last. Suddenly he heard a great gusting sound, like a gale had found them and was pursuing them relentlessly. His horse Strider (Elladan and Elrohir's idea of a joke when they had made a gift of the animal), was tensing beneath him and rearing its elongated head uneasily. The same discourse was affecting Legolas' mount to and as Aaron looked over his shoulder he could see why.

The creature skin was gray. Its pallor was of something that had been rotting for a long time. Its skin looked flaky and brittle, despite the rain that had slicked its form. Its eyes were white, there were no irises and through its partly parted mouth, he saw teeth, long, yellow teeth, its breath escaping in snorts. The wings flapped like that of a birds but looked more like a bats, web like and angular. It was a vision that Dante himself could have imagine, a painting Dali would have drawn to depict the horrific and bizarre. However, there was no denying what it was even if Aaron's mind struggled to believe it.

A dragon.

It was a fucking dragon. It was almost as big as a house and it had set its sights on them.

"IS THAT WHAT I THINK IT IS!" Aaron shouted as he dug his heels into Strider's flanks, trying to force the stallion to increase its speed though Aaron had a feeling Strider knew exactly what was behind them long before he did.

"RIDE!" Legolas retorted. "RIDE OR THE URLOKI WILL KILL US BOTH!"

Aaron was not about to argue with that order nor did he missed the half-strangled terror that Legolas was trying to hide from his voice. Strider's gallop filled his world as he leaned forward in the saddle to brace himself for the ride of their lives. It was no easy feat outdistancing a creature that could fly and the first bellow from the dragon was followed by a blast of fire. A ball of flame surged past him, causing the air to sizzle when rain made contact with fire. It landed on a bush and immediately consumed it with flame.

They could see Bryan's house in the distance and knew that it had been a bad choice coming here because now it gave the dragon more than two targets. Bryan however, did have weapons a little more effective than a sword and Aaron hoped that would be enough to stop the creature behind them. Another heated blast ignited a tree and suddenly their path was becoming flanked by fire. As they neared the house, the creature let out another angry roar, fire following the cry. He could feel the heat surging past his skin, could feel its intensity prickling his flesh, a contrasting sensation against the cold.

Whether it was the glow of amber from the blazing trees, the eerie flapping of great wings or simply the tempest that had suddenly descended upon Valinor without warning, Aaron saw Bryan emerging from his house by the sea. The tall Englishman had only a moment to react before he was running back into the house. Aaron had no idea what it was Bryan thought he could do against the beast that was following them but he knew without hesitation that Bryan Miller was incapable of abandoning anyone without a fight. The man simply did not have it in him to turn tail and run.

Bryan emerged as Aaron and Legolas closed in on the house, practically falling from the saddle as they neared he Englishman. The horses bolted almost immediately, terrified by what was following them so closely.

"Get in the bloody cellar!" Bryan shouted as he saw the creature flying towards them, its great wings flapping almost gracefully as flames billowed out of his open mouth.

"You cannot fight this beast!" Legolas returned sharply, aware that Bryan's carrying of his modern weapons could only mean one thing.

"What do you suggest we do?" Bryan retorted as he saw the thing swooping in. For a moment, he was reminded of a fighter jet about to make a strafing run.

"RUN!" Legolas shouted. "You're weapons will not penetrate its hide! Its is virtually invulnerable!"

"Virtually means not entirely," Bryan retorted as he allowed himself to be pulled back towards the house. The others were already in the cellar, Elrohir, knowing what it was that they faced had wisely ordered Eric and Jason to take cover, though how much shelter that would provide was problematic. "There has to be some way."

"There is but you have to get underneath the goddamn thing!" Aaron shouted. "I read about these dragons. Only their underbelly is vulnerable!"

"Underbelly?" Bryan looked at him sharply.

Aaron saw the gears working in his head, "don't even think about it."

"Come on," Bryan looked at him with a grin and started towards the dragon that was turning the landscape around them into an inferno. "You don't want to live forever do you!"

Cocking the L85A1 rifle in his hand, Bryan saw the approaching dragon and considered quickly how to take his shot. During the journey to Valinor with David Saeran on board the Anemone, because it had simply not in his vocabulary to travel without a weapon of any kind. Even though the former lord of Mordor had been trapped in his comatose body for the entirety of the voyage, Bryan had been unwilling to take any chances. He ensured that both he and Eve had been supplied with a formidable cache of weapons in case Saeran had chosen to awake while they were travelling to Valinor. Considering what a Herculean effort it had taken to put Saeran in this position, no one argued with his reasoning.

"You're fucking insane!" Aaron shouted. "It will kill us before you can squeeze off a round!" Aaron shouted back as the flames drew terrifying close. Around them the calm of the area looked like a picture of hell. There wasn't much that was not ignited in flame. If he had deigned to look he would have seen the cities of Valinor were in similar state. Valinor was under the flame, not just here but everywhere, from Aqualonde to Tirion to Tol Eressea. It burned amidst the sudden shift in weather, winds brittle and cold scorched the land in an icy burn. The fires battled the spittle rain, often evaporating the moisture before it could do battle with the flames.

"No it won't," Bryan said throwing him a look, "and it doesn't matter anyway. That bloody thing will burn the house around us."

"You do not know if your bullets will hurt it!" Legolas protested as the former M16, SAS trained agent took a stance and aimed. Aaron and Legolas should have run but like the bystanders at an accident, remained rooted to the spot. Flames had ignited the trees around the house and the sky was alive with amber from the radiating glow of fire.

Legolas' word hung in the smoke filled, pregnant with ominous danger as the dragon, mouth breathed in flame, and its wings spanned across the sky swooped towards the human standing in almost bold defiance of its power. Bryan could feel the heat diminishing before him in balls of flame, each drawing closer with each breath. Legolas and Aaron remained at his side even though he knew they were afraid and they had good reason to be. He was being a damned cocky fool and he knew but Bryan Miller knew no other way to be.

"Yes but neither does it," Bryan said a split second before he opened fire.

As those who have never heard a gunfire before and experienced it for the first time can safely attest, there is no sound quite like it. On television it is dulled, treated and altered for the viewing audience, loud enough to sound threatening when an unnamed hero sails through a barrage of them. The reality of it for those unfortunate enough to be caught in such circumstances, is quite different. On the battlefield men come undone by the sound of exploding artillery, bursting about their ears in a confusing cadence surrounded by a thickening smoke that is more effective at causing fear than the corpses around them. Bryan counted on this effect upon the creature that was bearing down on him.

The sound of gunfire rose over the cackling of flame and the creature reared, momentarily startled by the unfamiliar noise. Its great saurian neck lifting high, its fiery breath creating balls of flame over is massive head. And that instant, it halted in mid air as its belly was exposed. Wasting no time, Bryan re-aimed and fired once more. This time, his shots were not to cause confusion but to kill. The barrage tore through the beast's gray flesh, causing spurts of brackish dark fluid to spray through the air from each bullet hole.

The creature uttered a powerful roar of pain, its neck raised even higher as it reared even further, trying to retreat from the white hot projectiles that were tearing through its most vulnerable flesh. It great wings flapped faster, fluttering almost in a frantic effort to escape. It hurled a gust of flame at the three who had caused it so much pain. Legolas whose reflexes were far swifter than his human comrades, dragged both men to the dirt as the flames blew past them, all the while hearing the powerful screeching about their ears. A stench gagged all three, like rotten eggs that Bryan realized was sulfur.

"It's leaving!" Aaron exclaimed as he saw the dragon withdraw into the darkness.

"No," Bryan shook his head getting to his feet quickly. "Its been surprised, that's all."

"It will return as soon as it discovers it is not injured terribly," Legolas answered, "the urloki are cunning. They are not merely mindless beasts like watchers or trolls. These are dragons."

"What in the hell is going on?" Aaron demanded, asking the question.

"Don't you recognize this?" Bryan said as he started striding towards the house.

"What do you mean?" The New Yorker asked as the dragon's departure had ceased the billowing waves of heat and allowed the rain to temporarily gain ascendance once more. He could feel moisture and wind blowing at him. The icy wind was a stark contrast to the sharp cold.

"This is what it looked like before we sailed through the barrier," Bryan retorted jogging into the house to get the others. He had ordered Elrohir, Jason and Eric to stay put incase his gambit did not work.

"Wait a minute," Aaron paused as the realization dawned on him. "Are you saying...?"

"We are in Arda," Legolas exclaimed, verbalizing it far sooner than Aaron was able. "We no longer exist in the Undying Lands. That is why the home of Manwe and Varda can no longer seen. It is not the mountain that is gone, it is us that has moved."

"Jesus Christ," Aaron hissed as they entered the familiar surroundings of Bryan's home. "We're probably somewhere close to the Arctic Circle. It would explain why it's so damned cold."

"It worse than that," Bryan sighed, "we're going to be open to global positioning and satellites. If the rest of the world doesn't know about this island, it won't take them long to find out. It's not going to take them long to want to investigate a new island just appearing on the map."

"Your people will come here," Legolas shuddered. "They will find us."

"Yes," Bryan nodded grimly, "they will."

"We've got to get to the women," Aaron declared. "We should try to stick together until we can work out what's going on."

"Good idea," Bryan agreed, aware that they seemed to be at their best when they were together. "Eric, Jason, Elrohir! Its safe!"

"Where's Tory and Fred?" Aaron asked.

"They were at the beach with Miranda and the kids," Bryan answered. "Even if we've shifted position and left the Undying lands, it doesn't explain where that thing came from. It was a dragon wasn't it?"

"Yes," Legolas nodded, as he saw the three men emerging from the basement of the house. "Elrohir, there are urloki in Valinor."

"Urloki!" Elrohir exclaimed. "Dragons? They have not existed since the Third Age."

"There were fucking dragons out there?" Eric stared at them in astonishment.

"Jesus, look outside," Jason said glancing at the window at the change in weather and the scenery breathed in flame. It was almost like the war zones they had seen during their careers as news journalists.

"Look does it really blood matter?" Bryan replied, more concerned about Tory and Fred out there alone and unprotected. He strode towards his weapons chest and proceeded to retrieve every gun he could find. "Where's Eve and Ariel?" He looked to Legolas.

"They're at the coast too," Aaron answered. "On the Anemone."

"Okay, here's the plan," Bryan said taking charge as usual and no one saw any reason to correct him. "We're riding out of here while we can. That dragon is going to come back once its worked out that the bullets don't hurt it as much as it makes noise. We head to the coast and get the women and decide what to do."

"We go to Tirion," Elrohir responded. "We got to find my father and my grandmother. If there are any answers as to how this has come about, they will know it."

"I don't know about that," Eric stared out the window at the fires burning briskly across Valinor and at the woods outside the house. If it were not for the fact that the forest thinned a hundred yards into plain open ground, this house too would be razed to the ground. "If this happened without the Valar having any inkling of it then the shit's hit the fan and there are no answers."

"Let's try and keep a little bit of optimism here," Bryan cast the jaded reporter a look. "We have a plan let's stick to it. We find Tory and the women first and work out the rest as we go."

It was a sound plan as any and considering the peril that was running rife through the island, a prudent one.

***********

There was chaos in the streets of Tirion.

Frank and Elrohir had been in each other's company when the world suddenly turned to madness. Through the great library, the mood was one of shock and fear as everyone tried to discern what had happened. Outside the window, it was as if the gates of the shadow world were flung open and all the fell creatures within had been unleashed upon the innocent. The beautiful city of crystal and pearl was under siege, tongues of flames snaking up pristine white columns. In the streets, screams could be heard as well as far more frightening sound of things dark and menacing. Bellowing howls and piercing screeches filled the night.

Frank and Elladan emerged from the library into this insanity, their eyes sweeping across the main walk of Tirion with an expression of growing horror. Dark shapes were perched on top of tower walls, appearing like vultures waiting for the feeding on a battlefield. They stared at the terrified masses in malevolent watchfulness, opening their massive jaws to hurl fire into the crowds below. Elsewhere, things that growled and bit tore across the ground, their massive fur covered bodies ripping with powerful musculature as they sought out fresh prey. There was a feeding frenzy taking place before them and the two beings could only stare in absolute horror at the carnage.

"What in God's name happened?" Frank managed to ask.

"There is no time to ponder the question," Elladan said grabbing him by the shoulder and dragging Frank across the steps of the great repository of books, "we must find my father and grandmother. They will know what is to be done."

Elladan's voice was tense and it was not because of everything that was happening around them or the fact that Mount Taniquetil had disappeared. It was that they appeared to be besieged by everything from urloki to wargs and he had no weapon on his person. There was foul craft sweeping through Valinor and its source was not only unknown but the Valar had done nothing to cede its progress. Elladan could not imagine that Manwe would allow this to destruction to sweep through his sacred lands, unless they were powerless to prevent it. The possibility frightened him almost as much as the knowledge that their presence was absent somehow, that everything that was happening to Valinor was due to this loss.

"I have to find Miranda and the kids!" Frank said filled with thoughts about his family alone in all this horror.

"Your wife is more than capable of caring for Sam and Pip, she will keep them safe until we can reach them," Elladan said brusquely, more focussed on getting them to safety at the moment. He saw a group of elves releasing a barrage of arrows at the warg that was tearing one of their own apart, only to spur the action of a winged beast that swooped down and scattered the group with a blast of its fiery breathe. "We need weapons," he said hurrying down a path, "or else we'll never make it to my father's alive."

Frank could not disagree as he kept pace with the elves. It seemed profoundly obscene that the city of Tirion should appear like this. During the last six months, he had become accustomed to the pristine beauty of this land. To see it like this, being raped by creatures beyond comprehension, its skies black with smoke and dark cloud, wind whistling through the high towers that was braced with cold and uneven rain, made him sick to his stomach. For the first time in millennia, the elves were under threat and judging by their efforts to cope with the rising tide of evil consuming their land, were struggling to regain their warring spirit to cope with this surprise attack.

They had reached a turn when suddenly, the ground rumbled beneath them. It felt like an earthquake except that it was rhythmic and it approached from a distance. Whatever was coming their way, Frank decided then, was bad. Judging by the ashen look on Elladan's face, there was good reason to fear.

"What is it?" Frank demanded as they looked down the path from which this danger seemed to be coming.

"RUN!" Elladan almost ripped his arm out of his socket as the elf sprinted forward dragging Frank with him. When Frank heard the screams that were emanating from that direction, he began to run too. He looked and saw the glow of amber moving down the narrow street, illuminating the way before its source actually arrived.

Frank ran and did not look back. What could frighten Elladan was not something he wanted to meet. They raced down the streets towards the house of Elrond, hopefully still a safe haven from the nightmare taking place around them. Behind them the footsteps, the great quaking footsteps were shaking the world with its approach. Each step was heralded with new screams of horror and death. The fear he felt for Miranda and the kids were almost threatening to overcome his good sense. He knew that it was wise to go to Elrond's home because the lord had horses and with the kids were on the coast, he would never reach them in time on foot.

A thundering sound, like a whip snapping, tore through the air and both man and elf paused long enough to see the side of building burst into flames as part of its wall collapsed. The creature that emerged was towering and huge. It was breathed in amber fire, carrying a lash of fire. With soulless eyes, it scanned the immediate vicinity for new victims and sighted Frank and Elladan. It opened its mouth and a gust of hot air gushed forward as it bellowed.

"What is it?" Frank asked, almost shaking.

"It is a balrog," Elladan said almost as gripped with fear. "I have not seen one in my life. They were servants of Morgoth."

"Can we run?" Frank asked quietly.

"We can try," Elladan replied and they started moving. As soon as they began running, the beast followed them.

The sound of thundering feet so loud that they knew without having to look or register the heat from its massive body radiating across their backs, that it was there. The houses flanking them were being set alight from the balrog's swinging whip. The city would be reduced to cinder by daylight if this madness did not end, Frank found himself thinking. He and Elladan would not last that long at this rate. The beast was bearing down them. He could feel the draft when its whips slashed through the air, inches from them. One lash would kill him in a death of fire and agony.

They turned the road and were suddenly faced with a tall golden haired warrior, carrying a long sword, a shield and armored as if he were about to ride to war. Flanking him on either side was a host of archers and elven warriors carrying sharp lances, tall and cruelly elegant in their appearance.

"Glorifindel!" Elladan said with utmost relief. "There is a balrog behind us."

"I know," the famous elven lord nodded. "There are many roaming through the length and breadth of Valinor on this day. Your father and mother are worried for you. Someone has been sent to the library to hasten your return but I see by your appearance here that he did not reach you."

"We left as soon as all this started," Elladan explained.

"There is not time for talk," Glorifindel ordered. "Go now!"

The balrog was in sight and closing in.

"You're not going to fight that thing!" Frank exclaimed, unable to believe anyone ought to try facing that monster armed with anything less than a shoulder launch SAM. A somewhat ironic statement from one who had brought swift end to a Nazgul lord.

Glorifindel met his gaze with a little smile, "I have some experienced in these matters."

**********

On the shores of the Valinor, neither balrogs, wargs nor dragons had found the former Ring Bearer.

However, there could be no denying the carnage that was taking place across the island. They could see its effects on Tol Eressea and in the distance, towards the heart of Valinor, as if it was not enough that Mount Taniquetil had disappear from their sight. A great evil was at foot and it seemed at the center of this maelstrom, the only one who understood just how dire the situation was an seven year old girl who was beginning to understand that this day was a dark day indeed and wept inside for it.

"We've got to get back to the others," Miranda said as she and Tory prepared the carriage attached to the horses for departure. "We'll go to your place first," the golden haired woman said with a look of focus that Tory had come to learn not to ignore.

In some ways, Miranda's determination was more fierce and powerful than any of them put together. There was strength inside of her that was almost blinding to look at. Tory had seen Bryan look at it in awe and anything that gained his respect so completely was not to be ignored. Therefore when Miranda had offered the suggestion, Tory did not even question it. She obeyed as she would obey Bryan, knowing her limitations and taking faith in Miranda's ability to lead.

"Okay," Tory nodded quickly, trying the straps of the reins. They had let the horses roam the grass pastures near the beach after arriving, seeing no reason to confine the spirited animals to the carriage for hours. "After that I'm sure he'll be thinking of nothing else but finding Frank." Tory added.

Miranda tried not to think of Frank who was in the city, in the heart of whatever that was taking place on Valinor at the moment. This place was meant to be a sanctuary, a safe haven from the Nazgul and all the evil they had faced. Yet it now appeared that not even the Undying Lands were safe for the walls of heaven were breached the brimstone of hell was burning the host into a cinder. She wiped the rain from her eyes and prayed that Frank had sense enough to stay down. Right now, the most important thing was to get the children to those who could protect them. Not just Bryan but Eric as well.

"Where are the children?" Miranda looked up and saw that Sam, Fred and Pip were gone.

*********

"Why are we hiding?" Pip asked Sam with concerned as they remained confined in the hollow of the tree they had found a close distance away.

"Because Fred says we have to," Sam replied somewhat distracted. Fred had not stopped crying since she had led them here. Inside the cramped confines, she sat with her knees under her chin, hugging them closely because she was crying so hard. There were not small whimpers but loud sobs, heavy and full of hurt. Sam did not understand the cause of it but they broke his heart each of time he heard it. "Sam please, tell me what's wrong. Why are we hiding here?"

"Because he's coming," she finally managed to say through her sobs.

"Whose coming?" Pip's small voice became even smaller than ever. In his dreams, Pip saw the terrible creature that had held him and Sam captive inside that dark cave beneath the earth. The creature that had no shape but stared at him in his nightmares with crimson eyes. The Witch King had become the embodiment of every terrifying thing he had ever imagined in this world and now Fred's word made filled him with terror that the beast was coming back for him.

"He is," Sam knew precisely who she meant. "The Lord of Mordor."

"Who?"

Fred looked up and met Sam's gaze with tear stained eyes. "He's coming for revenge. He's coming for revenge," she stuttered before breaking into fresh sobs.

"Then we should get to mum and Tory," Sam replied trying to understand why she was so distraught. Sam could understand that she was afraid and if the truth were known, he did not wish to face the one they all called Sauron but if that were the case, then they should be with mum and Tory, leaving this place before the dark lord found them. Instead Fred was insistent that they came here and hide. Sam could only imagine the terror that his mother must be feeling at finding them gone and felt terribly guilty but Fred's determination overrode that guilt and forced him to go along with this concealment.

Sam put his arm around her and seeing Pip's terrified expression, put a similarly comforting arm around his younger brother. "We won't let him find us," Sam said bravely as only Sam knew how, "we're safe here. We won't find us."

"No," Fred sobbed in anguish. "It's too late." Her blue orbs filling with new tears, "oh Sam, its too late!" Fred's thought fixed upon woman who had been like a mother to her this last year, who had wiped her tears when she wept, who had made her a pink dress with wings on the back like a fairy simply because Fred had said she like them. More than anything, Fred wanted to see Tory again but it was too late.

"He's here now."

***************

"Fred!" Tory shouted into the air as she and Miranda searched frantically for the children who had suddenly vanished.

"Sam! Pip!" Miranda added her voice their own. "Bloody hell get your arses here!"

"I don't understand," Tory said as they hurried along the shore of the sandy white beach. They had followed footsteps in the sand but the swell of the ocean tide was increasing, along with the rain that did not cease. It was hard to see through the wind and the rain but neither woman was about to stop search for the children. "What could have possessed them to do this! Especially now!"

"I don't know," Miranda replied, trying to read the footprints that were growing increasingly difficult to see thanks to the bad weather and the pooling moisture on the ground that was not just the sea becoming more turbulent. "But if they wandered off on their own I am going to kill them."

Tory knew that the threat meant that Miranda was near panic stations about her lost boys and it was a sentiment that Tory could understand well because with what was happening in Valinor and the disappearance of Mount Taniquetil, this was no time for the children to go wandering about. Yet Tory knew that Fred was not a child that did such things, not after everything they had been through. If she had departed on her own steam then there was good reason for it.

"Maybe something is here," Tory looked up at Miranda.

Miranda's expression hardened, indicating that she had considered this and wished more than anything that she had a weapon. Unfortunately, she had not even considered that she would need one in Valinor. "You may be right," she said tautly.

"Oh she certainly is," a new voice spoke.

Tory looked up and gasped, staggering a few feet away from him.

Miranda did not immediately recognised the man who stood before them wearing a long dark coat that hid a turtle neck sweater and dark pants. Piercing blue eyes studied her and chiseled features that sparked a memory.

"Saeran," Miranda hissed. David Saeran. The man whose return Irina Sadko was willingly to exchange the Silmaril to acquire, for whom the Nazgul had kidnapped her children and nearly murdered Sam. The Lord of Mordor.

Sauron.

"And you are Eowyn," Saeran said approaching her. If the woman was half as intelligent as he had been led to believe, she would know there was no point in running.

"Miranda," she stiffened seeing the fear in Tory's face. The woman wanted to run but was rooted to the spot, refusing to leave without her.

"That is a transitory name," Saeran responded, reaching for hand. Predictably, Miranda moved to strike but he caught her wrist easily and forced her palm to face down before bowing to kiss her knuckle gently. "You I have always wanted to meet," he said with an almost charming smile.

"Can't say I've had the pleasure," Miranda snatched her hand away, somewhat shaken by this effort at civility.

"You were always a woman ahead of your time," Saeran replied. "I admired that. The Shield Maiden of Rohan, the White Lady of Ithilien, who rode out as Dernhelm no less to fight at the battle of Pelennor Fields. A remarkable legend. I even like the fact that you felled Morgul in battle, he was always an arrogant snot. I had such trouble controlling him. I dare say that you humbled that ego most efficiently. He was actually tolerable after."

Morgul, the Witch King. That's who he was talking about. "What do you want?" Miranda barked.

"Oh the world in a ball of flames, crusted in iron and bone, preferably human or elf, tamed by my hand," he said nonchalantly.

"You did this?" Tory asked, staring at the skies and the fires in the distant.

"I may have had a part in it," Saeran said with some relish, "the Valar know nothing about keeping prisoners. Its a terrible failing. In the early ages, they let my former employer have the run of the place after he had been brought back a prisoner. Pure foolishness. Not only did he steal the Silmaril, he got Feanor almightily pissed. Now he was an elf my lady," he looked at Miranda. "You two would have gotten along famously."

"What have you done with my children!" Miranda demanded, certain now that the disappearance of Sam, Pip and Fred was related to this man's...lord's...whatever he was, appearance.

"I have done nothing to the little dears," Saeran replied, his expression darkening. "In fact, I do not see them at all which is rather...curious. I had hoped to say hello to little Fred but I have other matters to attend so I cannot linger here long. As they say, the world awaits and I must go to greet it."

"You're lying!" Tory snapped. "Where are they?"

"And you," Saeran turned his gaze to her for the first time as if he had not noticed Tory before. "You are the little nothing that stepped into this play by chance. You did no great deeds in the past, no songs of valor are sung are about you are they?"

He took a step towards her and suddenly Miranda was struck with a cold fear. "Get away from her!" She rushed him.

Miranda never had the chance to reach Saeran. She took no more than two steps before she was sent flying across the air, landing on the soft sand a few feet away. She landed hard on her shoulder, a cry of pain escaping her at the impact. The wet sand had the strength of concrete and she knew something had popped.

Tory tried to run but he was faster than her and he caught her arm before she could make her escape. "Let me go!" She shouted frantically.

"You are beautiful in your way," he said staring into her wide green eyes, her face in his grip. A finger strayed languidly across pale, creamy skin. "I can see many nights where he explores your flesh like Columbus across an unending sea. I see him whispering your name, I see you smiling at him and you are so beautiful when you smile are you not Tory? What love you must give him, what fulfillment you must provide for that hard, warrior spirit. This is the first time for you both, is it not? The first time that fate has allowed you to finally come together. Soul mates through the ages that had never connected until now."

"Please..." Tory started to cry, starting to suspect what he was going to do.

"Don't worry," Saeran's smile stretched. "I am not completely without heart. I won't take his vision of you away."

As she tried to understand what that meant, Saeran twisted sharply. Bone snapped with ease, like elastic breaking. She went limp in his arms almost instantly, without time enough to close her eyes as all that she was ended in that bone crunching break.

"NO! TORY!" Miranda wailed from where she was.

Saeran brushed a stray hair from the dead woman's face and allowed her to fall to the ground. Even in her fall, she was graceful and he smiled because she had been truly a lovely creature and to lose her would be far more effective a tool for vengeance than any he could construct by way of craft or dark sorcery.

"You bastard!" Miranda spat, tears streaking down her face.

Saeran straightened up, looked at her dispassionately and said, "tell the son of Gondor that we are now even."

Part Three
The Begining and the End

The Lord of Mordor was on the move.

After his most satisfying encounter with the former Shield Maiden of Rohan and more specifically, Tory Harding, David Saeran paid his final call before departing Valinor for his destiny in the modern world. There was plenty of time to return to the Undying Lands when his task in Arda was completed. Already his minions were making their way across the oceans. The dragons were leaving the enchanted shores, bound for the world that had not seen its kind in aeons. The balrogs were remaining behind for the moment to reduce the cities of Tirion, Aqualonde and Formenos to ash. They would set alight the woods of Orome, dismantle the mansions of Aule and foul the waters of Lorellin. All that was fine and beautiful in Valinor would end in a blaze of fire that would stretch from one end of the island to the other. To them, he left the elves to dispose with as they wished.

In the world beyond the Undying Lands, the dark denizens beneath his ruined fortress in Romania, once Barad-dur awakened when the gates of the Forbidden Vault were flung open, stirred and armed for war. Thousands, dormant for so long as they slept in deep slumber, tore from their cocoons like violent birth, covered in slime and blood. They had awakened to the call of their god who was at last coming forth to claim them, to lead them to the victory against the forces of light that bathed the world in its purity. A world that had no place for them. They yearned for victory. They yearned for the spilling of blood that would make Arda theirs at last.

Sarean's army assembled upon the shore of Eldamar, awaiting his leave to begin their long anticipated journey across the great sea. His watchers had already set out, great leviathans of shadow moving through the unspoiled sea, exulting in knowledge they were once more masters of the deep. He saw them move, like great herds of whales, riding a swell of surf through the Bay of Eldamar before reaching open sea. Those who could not swim waited for him to provide their freedom from this island and it came, borne on the water, taken from Alqualonde, the home of the Teleri, great ship builders of Eldar. Blood smeared the hulls of the grey ships, fashioned in the shape of a great swan. The flotilla moved through the heavy rain towards their passengers.

All was needed now was their master to set them on path to the New World.

*********

"Wd have to hurry!" Eve said trying to speak through the pounding rain that had soaked her through and through. Wet hair and clothes were plastered to her skin as the icy temperatures made her shiver so hard, her teeth were chattering.

They had just left the Anemone, knowing that dark terror had swept across the land and turned Valinor's beautiful paradise into this dismal landscape of grey sleet and battering rain. Hard winds made the cold more biting and Eve knew that if she did not get shelter soon, she would take ill and with a baby inside her, that was not a risk she was willing to take. However, there was no question about remaining on board either. They needed to return to their husbands and friends to find out what on earth was going. The paradise that was home the elves was now under siege. Like everyone else on the island, she had witnessed the disappearance of Mt Taniquetil and shuddered at the implications of the loss.

"Look!" Ariel pointed out as they both stood on the wooden dock along which the Anemone was moored.

Eve followed her gaze and saw what had captured her gaze so completely. In the sky, it looked as if a flock of birds were making their way across the turbulent sky. Great wings flapped with rushes of wind displaced with each beat. She couldn't make it out well with the rain stinging her eyes but glancing at Ariel, Eve saw the elf maiden's face turn ashen with horror. Already her skin was pasty white from the cold, her lips turning a little blue but to see her like this, struck cold fear into Eve's heart.

"What do you see?" Eve demanded. "What the hell are they?"

"Urloki!" Ariel exclaimed. "They are Urloki!"

"Dragons?" Eve gasped. "Are you saying those things are dragons?" She looked up at the creatures soaring through the clouds, disappearing into the grey sky. "How is that possible?"

"I do not know," Ariel faced her again, "but that is what they are." Her elven eyesight allowed for no mistake. The beasts were indeed the ancient Urloki of which she had read in many books but had never seen until now. Legolas had told her that the last of the Urloki had been slain some years before the War of the Ring.

"Come on," Eve said grabbing Ariel's hand, "we have to reach Aaron and the others."

Ariel nodded as she saw the awesome sight of the dragons disappearing beyond the veil of Valinor into the freedom of Arda. She shuddered at the destruction they would cause and felt heartsick that nothing could be done to stop it. In all her life, she had never experienced terror or felt a moment of fear that all was not as it should be. The sensation was new and left her overwhelmed. However, if she thought the sight of Urloki was the end of all the terrible things that were transpiring before her eyes this day, she was terribly wrong. Once again the curse of elven hearing ensured that she heard it first.

"Wait!" She said moving only a few steps off the dock before freezing.

"What is it now?" Eve looked at her, not liking Ariel's tone. Too much was happening already; too much chaos was running rife through Valinor. In a matter of minutes, paradise had been reverted to a hell where dragons walked the earth and the gods could vanish without explanation. She did not want to imagine what else could be unleashed, what else could be coming without Aaron and the others at her side.

It was a sound of the ocean that Ariel heard first, the gentle lapping of water against the wood. It was a familiar sound, one she had heard all her life. One could not live on an island and not be familiar with the grey ships that came to life under Teleri hands. The ship appeared through the mist, her far seeing eyes saw their familiar shape sailing into the bay. However, as it approached, trailing others with it, Ariel saw that the masters of the helm and shuddered in horror. Orcs covered the deck, barking at each other in their foul tongues as they scurried about the ship like insects infesting rotting wood. They were sailing into the bay, profaning the grey ships by their presence.

"Orcs," Ariel replied staring at them as the flotilla past by. "Those are orcs."

"Orcs!" Eve could see the ships now as they drifted across the water beyond the dock, crossing the bay from the direction of Alqualonde. "That's it," she declared. "We're getting out of here while we still can."

"I'm afraid it's a little too late for that."

Oh Jesus.

Eve found herself staring at David Saeran and suddenly it made perfect sense. In fact it was made more than sense. It was the only answer. Who else on Valinor could do this? Who else would hate the elves and all this place represented to unleash this kind of nightmare? He stood before them both on the wooden dock, allowing no visible means of escape. Eve considered briefly the notion of getting past him but abandoned the idea briefly. If he could do all this, she glanced at the raging weather, the dragons disappearing into the grey sky and the armada of stolen ships sailing past her; she had no chance of besting him in any physical battle.

"You?" She looked at the sky as the rain pelted down on all three of them.

"Who else?" he said approaching her.

"Why?" Eve asked. "Why is this necessary?"

"Who is this?" Ariel demanded, shrinking away from the man as he neared. She could feel the darkness resonating from him. Waves of pure black hatred, assaulting her elven senses.

"Sauron," Eve shuddered. "This is Sauron."

Ariel shuddered, remembering the body that Olorin had whisked away upon its arrival here. She had not seen the face of the man whose shell contained the dark lord Sauron but now that he was before her, she could sense his malevolence, like a beacon of darkness.

"You may call me David," he said to Eve, his eyes fixed on her and once again Saeran could not believe the resemblance she possessed to another lady, in a different time. Even without the luminescence of elven grace, she was a sight to behold. "We shall be spending a good deal of time together so we should be a little more informal."

Eve turned pale at the thought. "You're fucking insane if you think that we're doing anything together."

"Now is that any way for the Peredhil's daughter to behave?" He looked at her like she was a misbehaving child. "I guess being human has made you unnecessarily coarse. In any case, it is time to go my dear." He extended his hand towards her.

"Go?" Eve stared at him as if he was mad and shrank back further up the dock. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Don't be tedious Eve," Saeran looked at her with a little sigh. "I really do not have time to waste and we must be going. You will come with me or I will kill that spawn in your belly right this moment and this elven bitch with it."

Eve's hands flew instinctively to her stomach as panicked thoughts about her child and Ariel filled her mind. "You can't!"

"I have done far worse than you can possibly imagine," his eyes grew dark with menace. "Do not make the mistake of thinking that I am at all sympathetic to a brat that sired by Isildur's heir. You are fortunate I do not turn liquefy it inside you where you stand but I do have a purpose that requires your cooperation and so for now it lives."

"Do not listen to him," Ariel found her voice, terrified but unable to simply stand by and let Eve go with this creature because of her as well as her child. "He has always be known as a deceiver! He will hurt you and your child when you no longer serve his needs."

"Do I have another kill another of you today?" He looked at her sharply and suddenly Ariel was flying of the dock.

"ARIEL!" Eve shouted as she saw Ariel slamming into the water away from the dock. Legolas' wife hit the water hard before disappearing under the waves. "Bastard!" She hissed and tried to go the woman's aid but Saeran had her in his grip before she could take one step toward helping Ariel. "You said you wouldn't hurt her!" She spat at him.

"She'll swim if she wants to live badly enough," Saeran replied throwing a glance to the choppy water where the she elf was already struggling to the surface. "As for you my dear, it is time to go."

"What do you want with me?" Eve asked in frustration. She was trapped in the worst way possible and she was terrified.

"I don't know," he answered her with some measure of honestly. Saeran did not know why he wanted to take this human with him. Perhaps it was a memory of the beautiful elf maid who had once sung a song that had moved the hearts of gods with its purity and grace. It was only time that Saeran had ever felt anything resembling a true emotion when he had heard her sing. "Perhaps I am bound still by the memory of the woman whose face you wear, so much that I am unable to wish you reduced to ash with the rest of world."

"I am not her," Eve muttered, unable to believe this was happening. "I am not Undomiel."

"Not you're not," he said pulling her along. "You are Luthien and that will please me greatly in the days to come."

*********

Ariel hit the water hard but thankfully did not lose consciousness. Had the water been still, she had no doubt that the world would have become black and she would have sunk to the bottom of the choppy sea and most likely to her death. Fortunately the turbulent sea lessened the impact of her landing and she plunged into the water, disorientated but not completely incapacitated. She pushed herself to the surface once her limbs stopped aching. Her thoughts a jumble of panic as she forced herself through the water.

Gasping as she broke the surface, Ariel was greeted with more rain on her face. The sky above was grey, filled with the departing Urloki and the combination of harsh wind and big waves made it difficult for her to see. Straining to stay afloat, she tried to cast her gaze towards the dock where Eve and Sauron had been. A deep sense of panic filled her when Ariel couldn't see either and despite the weight of her clothes threatening to pull her into the depth, forced herself to swim. Legolas and Aaron had to know what had happened, had to stop Sauron from whatever dark intent he had planned for Eve and her babe.

He had thrown her far and it took her considerable time to reach the shore. When Ariel reached the surf, she was not only exhausted but also freezing with cold. She had never felt cold like this and she dragged herself across the sand, her body was trembling. Her gown clung to her skin in taut sheets and Ariel hugged her arms close to her body, trying to warm herself but to little avail. Her teeth chattered as she made herself across the sandy shore, her thoughts only of the horses that awaited her, the horses that she and Eve had never reached in time.

Sauron.

Ariel thought to herself as she looked at the horizon seeing the grey ships that were now usurped by the dark lord, taken from the Teleri to ferry the sum of his evil army to new lands the Urloki were already flying to reach. Sauron was unleashed form the Halls of Mandos and somehow, he had done all this. She wondered if the others knew that Sauron was at the heart of all this and instinct told her that they did not. In either case, she still had to reach them.

Hurrying back to the dock, she moved as quickly as she could despite her waterlogged clothes and the freezing temperatures. The rain was merciless, beating down against the wood in angry sheets. Ariel paused as she saw the ships that had passed coming to a halt further along the shore. Her heart froze in her chest and felt inordinately grateful that she had so far slipped the notice of the beings waiting to make the crossing within their stolen hulls. On the shore in black clusters, spiders, wargs and beasts that could not cross the ocean were now given passage by the grey ships of the Teleri.

She could not linger any further, news of this had to be told. Arda had to be warned.

*********

Bryan stood on the beach.

Around him there was tears. Fred was holding him, she was crying. He was vaguely aware of her arms clinging to him but the rest of him was numb. He heard Miranda sweeping the little girl away, embracing her in that secret way known only to women, whispering things that tried to make it all better. He heard the others speaking but the words did not register, could not register. He felt Legolas' arm on his shoulder, speaking more words that held no meaning, which made no sense, because he was no longer able to listen.

Aaron was kneeling over her. The psychiatrist was crying. Aaron was holding her cold hand, her hand icy now because of the freezing temperature and because all the life had drained away into nothingness. Heat bled out of a body so fast when the heart stopped, Bryan thought to himself. It was one of those small fragments of information that rose to the top at inopportune moments for which there was no real use. He looked at her, eyes staring at him and seeing nothing, her red hair plastered against creamy skin, skin growing white like ash.

She was gone.

Just like that. One snap and it was all over. All that she was, all that she could ever be. Simply gone.

He looked at her, thinking that this morning she had told him to stop leaving teaspoons on the countertop after making coffee for himself and was struck with the absurd thought that he done that very thing before he had left the house. He had forgotten again but he wouldn't hear her rebuke and for some reason that affected him more than the fact that her body was lying in front of him. For the year he had with her, he had never dared to believe he could be that happy. She had been everything he had ever wanted, everything he thought he would ever need and now she was gone.

Just like that.

They had come here first because of the kids and because this was closer. Considering what was happening, it was thought a prudent decision to remain together. There were too many uncertainties in Valinor on this day and safety in numbers may seem outdated but it was still an effective strategy for battle. They had ridden here hard, relieved when they saw that for most part the beach and forest seemed untouched by the pestilence that was tearing the island apart. He had feared the ruin of this paradise, worried that the safety of this place may be gone forever if opened to the outside world and all its cruelties.

He had thought it would ruin the home in which they had wanted to raise Fred.

Bryan was still thinking that when they found Miranda and heard Fred weeping and in that singular moment, he knew that no matter what happened, even if they saved Valinor and restored it, he had still lost paradise because she was gone. He was standing in the same place where he had first caught sight of her still form on the shore. The only fixed point in the maelstrom of grief and anger that followed as the others discovered her body, heard Miranda's explanation at how Sauron or rather David Saeran had appeared fully restored and took away the only thing that ever truly belonged to Bryan Miller, heart and soul.

Tory.

Tell the son of Gondor we are now even.

"Bryan," he heard Legolas' voice cutting through the ringing in his ears. The one that kept the voices out. "Bryan, I am truly sorry."

"Son of a bitch!" Aaron swore kneeling next to Tory's prone form. His voice breaking. "The son of a bitch!" He repeated. "There was no reason for this," he sputtered, caught up with anger and sorrow. "There was no reason for him to do this! She didn't do anything to him!"

"This wasn't about her," Bryan spoke for the first time, his voice almost a whisper. "This was about revenge."

Tell the Son of Gondor, we are now even.

"Bryan," Legolas said trying to offer comfort but none of them present knew what to say that could lessen the hurt. Words had meant little to him when Melia had passed. Even after all this time, Legolas could not forget the soul crushing sensation of seeing her life slip away from him forever. At this moment, he could understand completely what Bryan was feeling. "I grieve with you. We will make him pay for this. This time he will not be resurrected."

"What does it matter?" Bryan asked in a listless voice still staring at those vacant eyes. "She's gone. Killing him won't bring her back."

Legolas did not know how to answer that because he was right. Destroying Sauron would not change anything. Tory would still be gone and Bryan would still be standing before them all as if the best part of him had been gutted from his flesh with knife. All the emotions he could see on the man's face, he knew, he had felt once before. The unfairness of it, the injustice that caused something precious to be taken away before its time.

There was a wall inside Bryan Miller. A wall he had erected in the moments following the discovery of her cold lifeless body being pelted by rain and wind, which Miranda had been crouched next to weeping while she held a sobbing Fred. Behind it was a torrent of grief the likes of which he had never known in his existence, a maelstrom of rage that was as violent as the storm tearing across Valinor at this moment. He had built it because it was the only way he knew how to cope with her being gone and even as he stood here, seemingly composed, he could feel the cracks against the stone, the fissures that were being created. His rage eclipsed the one that Aaron was currently displaying, it was a block hole inside of him, dangerous and all consuming. He just had to stay away from it now. He had to stay away from it or else he would start screaming and never stop.

He turned away from her, unable to look anymore. Instead, he went to Miranda who was holding Fred in her arm, cradling the child like she was a two-year old, accepting her sobs the way only a mother of two could know how to do. Miranda met his gaze and there was no need to ask, she immediately handed Bryan his child. Bryan took Fred in his arms, holding her in a clenching embrace as she continued to weep, the sound of her tears doing more damage to the wall inside him than all the agony in the world.

"Bryan!" Fred sobbed loudly. "I knew he was going to do it!" She blubbered. "I knew it! I saw it!"

Bryan closed his eyes, almost breaking then. Closing his eyes, he blocked out everything but the need to be strong for this child because she was the only thing that still held any meaning for him. A few tears escaped him them, silent ones that no one could see for the rain. "Its alright Fred," he said softly in a voice he had become practiced at using since this little waif entered his life so unexpectedly and changed everything in her wake. "You couldn't have done anything to stop this, do you understand me? Nothing. It isn't your fault."

Oh God Tory, how am I going to do this without you?

He asked himself and sucked in his grief forcing himself to reinforce that wall once more. "We have to get out of here," he said in a strong voice to the others. "We have to find out what's going on. Aaron if he's been here," Bryan couldn't bring himself to say Tory's name out loud or say that the bastard killed her, "he may have gone after Eve as well. We need to find them. Now."

Aaron who was wiping his own tears nodded. His grief had subsided for the moment because if Bryan could hold it together in the face of an unimaginable loss, he had to as well. He had to for Eve and the baby. Oh Christ the baby, if Saeran knew about the baby, he could avenge himself almost on Aaron almost as cruelly as he had done to Bryan. He raised himself to his feet, hardly noticing it when Eric had draped a blanket over Tory's dead form.

"We have to find her," Aaron said meeting Legolas' gaze. "She's pregnant. If he finds hers and finds out she's pregnant..."

"With child?" Elrohir exclaimed. "My sister is with child?"

"Yes," Aaron nodded still somewhat dazed. "We were keeping it a secret. We wanted it to be a surprise for Elrond and Bri."

There was no time for anyone to savor this news because the mood was too heavy with tragedy for that. The talk of life in the face of such unimaginable loss seemed almost profane. They absorbed Aaron's news for what it was and then moved on. There was no other choice.

"Alright then," Bryan nodded, switching his train of thought to the soldier who knew how to control his emotions for the job to be done. "Miranda, I want you to take the kids to Tirion. If there's an answer to what the bloody hell is going on here, it's there. You need to find Frank and wait at Elrond's. Chances are if this shit has hit the fan, that's where he'll be anyway."

"Elladan would take him there," Elrohir nodded. "Although I do not know how safe it will be."

"It's the best chance we have to find an answer," Eric agreed. "We're no safer out here then we are in the city." The newsman did not look at Tory at his feet as he said that. "At least in Tirion we'll have some idea to fight this thing."

"Fight it?" Aaron stared at him. "How?" he lashed out. "Where the hell did he get the power to do this! I thought he was trapped down there in Mandos! I thought the Valar had him under control. How the hell does he managed to move Valinor into the real world like this?"

Legolas and Elrohir exchanged glances. "I do not know," Legolas answered. "He should not be able to have escaped Namo let alone Mandos. That he has done both gives me great fear for not merely our own sakes but the Valar as well. He could not have done this beneath their notice."

"Unless he's found someway to get around them," Miranda replied. "Or incapacitate them."

"That is impossible!" Elrohir burst out. "Sauron is Maiar not Ainur. For him to best Manwe and the rest of the Valar is simply impossible. He may be Valar himself but he has always been a lesser. For him to have unleashed all this is impossible!"

"Well I'm sorry to bloody say that he has," Eric declared angrily because he liked Tory, she was kind and sweet and deserved better than to die like this. "Look around you. This isn't Valinor, this is the Arctic fucking circle and this island is in it. If Sauron didn't do this? Who did?"

"Let's us not fight," Legolas said trying to keep tempers down. "We can think of the how at a later when there is time for it. Now we must do as Bryan says, we must get the children to safety and find both Eve and Ariel."

The former prince of Mirkwood was trying not to let his own fears overcome him. He had lost her once, had believed keeping her here would protect her but now Legolas was realising that such protection was impossible, that there would always be some danger, somewhere. It made him all the more determined to reach her. He had lost Melia once, he could not bear to lose her again.

"Christ yeah," Aaron nodded, feeling inordinately selfish because Eve was not alone. She was with Ariel and Sauron had no reason to treat her any better than he had treated Tory. Oh Jesus Tory, he closed his eyes and tried not to cry again. He looked at Bryan and saw the former M16 agent was still holding Fred in his arms, letting the little girl sob but the grief in his eyes, the grief he would not unleash himself. It was so sharp that it almost pierce the skin of anyone who knew how to read his eyes. Aaron saw Miranda staring at Bryan, her lovely face strained and anguished not just for the loss but also for Bryan, like she knew exactly what he was feeling. Aaron saw her and thought at that moment she was the moment beautiful woman he had ever seen save Eve. She was like a statue in marble with living eyes, full of emotion.

"The kids are in the wagon ready to go," Jason who had been given the task of getting the children settled, announced as he returned to them. "Sam's okay but Pip's taking it hard." For some odd reason Jason felt like the kids were his responsibility. He knew he had to do with the fact that in that other life the elves seemed to remember so clearly, he was one of four hobbits who had left their Shire home to change the face of Middle Earth. Since coming to understand who he had been, Jason had developed this sense of protectiveness towards Fred, Sam and Pip. Maybe that's why he had been brought back as an adult in comparison to the others who were children, because one of them had to be and it was just his luck of the draw.

"Thank you," Miranda gave Jason a look of gratitude and came to Bryan, "let me take her."

"No," Fred protested as Bryan removed her arms from around his neck. "I don't want to leave you Bryan, please don't make me go!"

Christ! Bryan had to shut his eyes to keep her face out of his mind. "Its just for a little while Fred, I'm coming right back. I have to go and see if Aunt Eve and Ariel are safe! I won't be long I promise!"

"Come on darling," Miranda took her from him, aware that he was nearing breaking point.

Of all the people present, Miranda was the one who had the greatest understanding of how Bryan was feeling at this moment, what mechanisms he was using to maintain his composure. She knew that Fred alone had the power to break that fragile facade and thus took the little girl away before he crumbled entirely and was no good to anyone.

"Bryan will be along soon enough. Sam and Pip are waiting," she said giving him a look of sympathy over Fred's shoulder. There were no words needing to be exchanged between the two. They had been warriors in the field who had seen each other through the best and worst of things. Fred had resigned herself to that fact that she would be parted from him and lay her head against Miranda’s shoulder, sobbing silent tears that broke the woman’s heart as surely as it must be going to Bryan.

"Go with her," Bryan said to Jason in a strained voice. "You too Eric."

"Alright," Eric nodded, having no objection to playing guardian to Miranda and the kids especially when it appeared the road to Tirion could be perilous. "We’re on our way. You’ll meet us there?" He looked at Bryan with concern.

"Yes," he nodded. "As soon as we find Eve and Ariel, we’ll meet you in the city." Bryan could not even look at Miranda’s direction because Fred’s tears were cutting through him like a knife.

"What about Tory?" Aaron asked looking at the body.

Everyone froze and looked to Bryan immediately.

He blinked slowly and marveled that the pain could even be worse than what he already felt. "We’ll come back for her," he said after a long moment, his voice little more than a whisper. Rain plastered hair against his face, water running down the bridge of his nose, hiding the stray tears that came from his eyes, the one that came involuntarily. "Everyone get to the horses," he said in a voice none dare defy, elf or human. "I want a moment."

Once again, no one argued and they withdrew leaving Bryan alone with the body concealed beneath the soaked blanket. He did not know how long he stood there, minutes perhaps. The time did not seem to register. He noticed everything, the manner in which the blanket clung to her form, the glistening water on the saturated fabric, the hem of it swaying in the wind and the sand soaked ground where she had fallen. Numb, he walked forward finally and lowered himself beside her. Slowly, he removed the shroud from her face and saw that Eric had thankfully closed her eyes. Her skin pale, still looked very much like the English rose she was and for an instant, he could have been forgiven for thinking that she was asleep. He had watched her some mornings, watched her light breathing, with all that glorious red hair framing her face.

The tears came then, treacherous things running down his cheeks. He allowed himself one single deep sob before suppressing it again. His hand reached her cheek. It was cold, lifeless. He had seen men on the battlefield, dying, bleeding, worse than this. Some had even died at his own hand but no death had ever speared him like this. He lowered his lips to her, trembling as they brushed against her forehead, still cold, still lifeless, blinking once as tears and rain spattered against the skin.

"Its my turn luv," he said blinking away the tears. "Next time, I’ll find you."

***********

A strange sort of calm had befallen Tirion.

Within the home of Elrond Peredhil, elves waited and listened, unsettled by the sudden silence. There marriage of cold and fire and ended. The flames had died under the pounding sheets of rain, earlier given dominance by the great winds. A glimmer of ice had begun to form over everything, windows, roofs and towers. The city of pearl and jewel had become as desolate as any forgotten by time, darkened by evil. The only burst of life came from the balrogs that roamed the streets, like dogs sniffing out prey. No longer were any elves on the street. Those who had not fled were dead. The Urloki had gone, departed a short time ago like a flock of carrion eaters that had found better spoils elsewhere.

Frank raced across the polished marble floor, covered now in debris and soot, surrounded by rumbling voice of frightened refugees who had been driven here in a mad bid to escape. Elsewhere the warriors were assembling, marshalling their forces and preparing to attack. Glorifindel was leading them and Elrond, who had not seen battle since the Second Age was even now donning armor. Elladan had left Frank’s side to be with his father, preparing to ride into battle once more, perhaps finally against the balrogs that lay Tirion to siege. As he hurried up the spiral staircase, he passed by more shocked faces, faces that had not been able to believe that their paradise could become reduced to this nightmare. Most had never known a day of difficulty in their lives and now they were confronted by an evil they could not possibly imagine.

"Where are they Bri?" Frank asked as he reached the upper floors of the elven lord’s home and saw his lady.

The mother of Arwen Evenstar looked upon him with a face filled with anxiety. He couldn’t blame her. Her husband and her son were going to fight creatures beyond these walls Frank couldn’t even begin to imagine. "They are preparing to ride to face Morgoth’s demons." She said fearfully.

"I have to go too," Frank said meeting her eyes and saw his statement was met with a worried expression across her lovely face. "I have to go find Miranda and the kids. They’re still out there."

"No you must not," she said anxiously. "The balrogs are outside, they will kill if you attempt to leave the city!"

"My wife and boys are out there," Frank looked at her earnestly, "I can’t hide in here safe when I don’t know if they are."

She protested but Frank was not listening, he was hurrying up the stairs to find Elrond and Elladan, definitely intending to take his leave. Miranda had wanted to take the kids to the beach with Tory, so they may still be there, safe from all this madness. He had no more reached the top of the stairs when he halted, his breath catching as he saw Elrond sweeping down the steps, clad in the shiny polish of elven armor, sword and shield in hand. Next to him, Elladan was similarly armed while flanking his father on one side as Glorifindel took position on the other.

"Elladan," he said to the younger Peredhil, "I need to go get Miranda and the kids."

"They are safer than you are at this moment," Glorifindel returned promptly, fastening the scabbard to his belt as he descended the steps. "Tirion is under siege, the Balrogs are killing anyone on they can lay their hands on. They have not started breaking down the walls yet but it will not be long."

"I don’t care," Frank exclaimed. "I’m going."

"Frank," Elladan tried to reason with him. "It is exceedingly dangerous outside. You saw it. There were not merely balrogs that roam the streets killing but Urloki and wargs. The vault of darkness has been unleashed upon us and who knows what countless evils have been freed?"

"Your wife and children are coming here," a feminine voice spoke that captured all their attention.

Elrond’s gaze was fixed behind him and as Frank turned around felt his breath catch in his throat. It was always the way when one came into the view of Galadriel. He doubted that any man could look at her without feeling some measure of schoolboy adoration. In Galadriel the luminescence of the elves seemed personified, with creamlike skin and hair so golden that it seemed like she brushed it with drops of the sun. She looked at Frank with eyes like pools into forever, filled with wisdom that he’d never truly grasp even if he read all the books in the world.

"Your wife and child are coming here," Galadriel repeated herself and somehow, if she said it, Frank knew it was the truth. It was an amazing faith for a man of science to have but it was the truth. Since coming to Valinor, Frank had learned that not all knowledge was found in facts or empirical evidence, some was simply in the heart.

"Then I need to help them find their way here," Frank looked at Elladan for help. "If they’re coming here, the balrog.."

"Father," Elladan looked hastily at Elrond.

"Go," Elrond nodded in understanding. A father who had once lost a child himself, Elrond knew perfectly well what was going through Frank’s heart, what fears he was enduring.

"Thank you," Frank said gratefully.

"What safety there will be here is fleeting, Frank," Galadriel spoke again. "We are none of us safe in this realm. The End of Days has come."

Elrond released a breath and Glorifindel’s jaw seemed to tense. The exclamation brought the rumbling within the room to a sudden fault and suddenly everyone was looking at Galadriel with the undivided attention.

"What is the End of Days?" Frank asked looking at the others around seeing he was the only one who did not immediately know its significance.

"The time when all things must come to an end," she said enigmatically as only Galadriel could. "For all things, there is a beginning and an end," she paused and moved from Frank, to Elrond, Elladan and Glorfindel in quick succession. "Even for us."

Frank did not understand fully but the apocalyptic quality of it was not lost upon him. Something was happening. Something steeped in prophecy and legend. "I don't understand. What the end is nigh or something?"

"For all things to renew, there must first come an end," she explained as if it was the easiest thing in the world to understand.

"What does that mean?" Frank asked shaking his head in confusion.

She smiled at him and it was as if he was staring at the breaking of dawn, when the sunlight peered across the dark sky for the first time. However just as suddenly as this new day broke, her expression hardened and her voice altered.

"Sauron has been unleashed upon the world again."

"What?" Elladan exclaimed. "How is that possible? We left in Mandos under the charge of Namo."

"He is more than he ever was," she said sounding very much like the Noldor princess that had ruled in Middle earth for so long as the undisputed leader of the elven people. "I do not fully understand how but he is far stronger than we have ever feared imagining. He has opened the Forbidden Vaults, released upon the world of men all the evil of our ages. His power is almost absolute."

"If he is so powerful, why not simply destroy us now?" Glorfindel demanded one the shock had set in and the acceptance of what could be the only logical answer was before them.

"He will destroy us," Galadriel answered, "but he has an entire world to claim and an army to lead to this end. We are but one island and he has time."

"He'll get to us when we're important enough," Frank surmised.

"He left the Balrogs took keep us restrained," Elrond nodded in understanding.

"He has already left these shores," she raised her eyes to Frank and added quietly, "he has taken your daughter with him."

Elrond's eyes widened. "Eve! He took Eve?"

"Jesus Christ," Frank's thought immediately fell upon Aaron who since their meeting six months ago had become fast friends. The two men were very much alike; scholars who suddenly found themselves embroiled in a fantastic world. Though Aaron, Frank had gotten to know Eve and feared for her in Saeran's clutches.

"We will find her," Elladan replied, his jaw setting in anger as he regarded his father. Elrond's expression was a mixture of anger, worry and anguish. "We will not Sauron have her."

"It is not her he wants," Galadriel said quietly, "he thinks she is Luthien. He thinks she is Luthien incarnate?"

"Luthien?" Frank stammered, hating to be the one who did have all the answers for one. "I thought Eve was supposed to have been Undomiel..."

"It was said," Glorifindel explained, "that the Evenstar resembled Luthien greatly. When Luthien sought to free Beren, she was said to have gone to the fortress at which Sauron commanded and sang a song so sweet that even the dark creatures within were moved by her voice."

"Did he move Sauron?" Frank asked, "is that why he took her?"

The thought horrified Elrond beyond belief. Frank could see the utter terror at the thought that Sauron might have designs upon his daughter. It was the same shadow that settled upon him when he had seen Sam and Pip taken by the Nazgul all those months ago. Every time he saw his boys, he was filled with a renewed sense of gratitude that they were safe and sound. Thus he understood with complete empathy the fear that even one as aged and wise as Elrond Peredhil must feel at the thought of Eve in the hands of the dark lord.

"If he touches her..." Elrond hissed with a look in his eyes that sent shivers down the spine of everyone present, no matter who they were.

"He will not harm her," Galadriel said quickly, perhaps sensing that her son in law was about to become overwhelmed by his fears for his precious, mortal daughter. "Not while she carries the child."

"The child!" Elrond exploded. "What child?"

"She is with child and while she carries the babe," Galadriel explained, "he will not harm her. Do you not see a more perfect vengeance for him Elrond against the heir of Isildur? To make a slave of his enemy's child?"

"Christ," Frank said appalled. "Look, what are we going to do? I need to find my children and my wife but we also need to go help Eve! You said it yourself, this balrogs or whatever they are, are merely a distraction. They're little more than flypaper to keep us busy while he goes and turns the world into seventh level of hell!"

"The balrogs could reduce Valinor to ash," Glorifindel snapped. "They must be dealt with immediately."

"If Sauron is allowed to do what he wants to do to the rest of the world, it won't matter if Valinor is saved or not," Frank declared. "He'll come back here and finish what the balrogs didn't."

"He is right," Galadriel said somberly. "We must learn what he intends, somehow we must stop him."

"How?" Elladan asked aghast, remembering that it had required the intervention of the Valar to put down Morgoth. If Sauron was now equal to the dark one's power, how could they hope to stop him? "If he can do all this and we are alone without the grace of the Valar to help us, how can we prevail? How can we fight this evil?"

**********

She stopped crying.

The wagon moved towards Tirion with Jason driving it while Eric followed closely behind on his horse watching cautiously for any signs of danger. Slung over the newsman's shoulder was an AK47, courtesy of Bryan who would not allow him to make the journey without being suitably armed. Although Eric doubted the effectiveness of such a weapon against what was flying around Valinor, he did not want to argue with Bryan. So far Frank's brother had managed to maintain his poise but this would not last indefinitely. Bryan was avoiding his pain because the moment required it, a soldier's discipline but like Miranda could see how close he was to breaking.

Miranda on the other hand, was sitting in the back of the wagon, grateful that Bryan had ordered Tory's body left behind. She honestly did not relish having the woman's corpse riding the same wagon as the children. Miranda did not think Fred's fragile psyche could endure seeing her foster mother lying dead in front of her for the entire journey to Tirion. Fred's arms were still around her neck as she sat against the tray wall of the wagon. Miranda held the little girl in her arms determined that she would gut anything else that tried to hurt this child who had lost so much already. Miranda suspected Fred had also lost Bryan but hoped that the man would prove her wrong.

Sam sat next to his mother, leaning his head against her shoulder as he watched her offering comfort to Fred, thinking that his mum should be Fred's mum too because his mum would never let anything bad happen to Fred. Pip was lying next to mum in the same way and Sam thought that this was how it was going to be. With a flash of insight he was not able to explain, he had a sense that this was how it would be now. Because of this tragedy, Fred had found her way into his family and here she would stay.

Fred stopped crying and sat up from Miranda's embrace.

Sam looked into her eyes and tensed, sitting up instinctively. Something had changed.

"We have to go back." Fred said.

Miranda stared at the little girl. "What?"

Fred turned to face Miranda. Her dark hair was still plastered to her damp skin and clothes as she moved. Powerful blue eyes stared at Miranda, no longer filled with tears and grief. "We have to go back. We have to find the others."

"No, we have to go to Tirion," Miranda said, uneasy because Fred's voice was no longer a child's voice. There was an edge to it that was so far removed from the little sobbing waif in her arms a short time ago that Miranda feared that something might have snapped inside Fred and pushed her over the edge.

"There is nothing for us in Tirion," Fred repeated herself. "Sauron does not lie there. He goes to Arda to rule and he will do so by burning everything of men to the ground, to reduce the entire world to a pile of cinder. If we are to stop him, we must go there now, while there is time to prevent it."'

"Fred," Miranda started to say. She knew that there was something about this little girl that was different. Tory had said she had some kind of connection to David Saeran, that the ring they both once wore as Frodo Baggins and Sauron bound them together. It had followed them both into this life, linking them inexorably to each other. Like Ying and Yang, day and night, good and evil. Miranda forced away the surge of grief that came with remembering Tory and focussed on what the woman had actually said and not the fact that she had been cruelly taken away from them. Fred saw things. She had a sense about Sauron, a second sight that she should not be able to possess.

"We have to go Miranda," Fred looked at her with those soulful eyes. "We have to go soon. For all things there is a time to begin and end. The End of Days is here."

"Mum," Sam tugged at her sleeve, "she's right. Fred knows these things."

Miranda was wrought with indecision, "Fred, even if I believed what you're saying, there is no way to stop him. He is powerful and strong."

Fred simply stared at her. "For all things, there is a time to begin and a time to end. The forms must be obeyed, the end must happen for the new to begin."

"I don't understand," Miranda shook her head, wondering where this was coming from. It was not a child that was speaking to her. It was something else.

Or someone else.

Part Four
The Taking or Arda

The Lord of Mordor was returning home.

Across the icy sea, the grey ships sailed once more, heralded in the storm skies by the Urloki, blazing their heated breaths through the brittle winds of the Arctic sky. Their great wings flapping to compare with the strongest gales as they soared through the air for the first time in two hundred thousand years. As they flew towards Arda, the Urloki were filled with an euphoria they had not known since their first days beyond the pits of Angband. The winged serpents took the sky like birds that had been caged for so long and it was said that in some way, dark as it was, the flight was a celebration of freedom from the darkness beneath Mandos.

He was once known as Sauron, Lord of Mordor looked upon his airborne army and for a moment, shared their elation. They fretted above the grey ships, like worms at play and he knew that when the time came, his dragons would put aside their joy at being unleashed and wreak doom upon all men once again. The dragons had been promised the treasures of Arda, to horde in dark places beneath the Earth as dragons were apt to do. He stood on the bow of the ship, feeling the wind rushing through the hair of his human shell and felt for a moment, a kinship with the great beasts who were savoring their freedom.

The grey ships had swept speedily beyond Eldamar and were now making their way to open sea, a flotilla of ships flanked by fell beasts in the sea beside it and by the Urloki keeping a vigil overhead. A great wind propelled them forward, straining the sails to breaking point but if nothing else he, who was once Sauron, knew the skill of the Teleri. The sails would not tear and he would have these ships to Arda in days, not weeks. Already the Nine had sensed him and were journeying across the land to meet him. Perhaps not Nine but rather eight. That fool Morgul had gotten his arrogant self banished to the shadow realm and once Sauron was so inclined, he would restore his servant.

At the bow of the lead ship, Sauron saw the frothing waters flanking the ships, created by the watchers that were keeping pace with the false wind he had created. The watchers were not often seen as such vital creatures, swimming at speeds that would rival and best any contemporary leviathan. The beasts were accustomed to resting in one place, allowing their food to come to them. However, when compelled to it, they moved fast and when confined for as long as these had been, were eager to swim unfretted as care freely as the Urloki above them all.

Across the deck, the wargs had settled down on the deck, their heads hanging over the side like dogs in a speeding car, mouth open as the wind rushed at them, ears flapping and for a moment, he was almost amused at how much like their contemporary counterparts they were. Of course the similarities were few, wargs were almost five times the sizes of wolves. They were large enough to be ridden and once their teeth snapped around your neck. You were dead even if your mind was foolish enough to believe a struggle might save it.

The spiders were below deck, preferring the shadows than the light, even when it was shrouded by the dismal grey of the arctic circle. He felt no cold as he stood on the bow of his ship, watching destiny rushing to meet him after so long. He, who called once Sauron, now the human David Saeran, knew that the endgame was upon him. Whether or not he won or lost, it was time to play the final game, to unleash hell on earth and see whom was left standing. As Caesar said on the banks of the Rubicon;

Let the dice fly.

*******

The watcher sensed the movement.

It moved swiftly, swift enough to inspire the curiosity of the great beast swimming close to the surface of the ocean above. The watcher could sense hearts beating even from so far away, faints sounds that drew it to them like drops of blood in a vast ocean. The fell creature, mesmerized by the promise of so many living hearts, immediately broke from its brethren and began surging towards the depths, eager to find the source, even if it was accompanied by strange sounds the creature could not place.

********

There was something wrong.

At first Captain Isaiah Hill could not define exactly what it was. He sat in his chair on the bridge, reading morning reports, half listening to the chatter of his men at their stations, trying to decide whether or not he would make it home in time for he and his daughter Lori to have their yearly birthday lunch in three days. The maneuvers were running over schedule and though he knew it was through no fault of him or his crew, Isaiah was nonetheless disappointed that the delay would interrupt a ritual he and Lori had been practicing for the last ten years since her sixteenth birthday. His wife Diane had died shortly before that day had arrived and Lori, his only child had not felt much like celebrating. Thus every birthday since her sixteenth, they had shared dinner together and though her duties as a Navy pilot made it difficult to manage, the ritual had never been interrupted.

For the moment however, that annoyance did not bother him as much as the niggling sensation on the back of his spine that something was not quite right. Standing up from his chair, Isaiah walked across he bridge of the SSN-21 USS Connecticut, a ballistic missile submarine of the Seawolf Class, presently cruising the Arctic Sea at a speed of 30 knots, crew complement of 133 men, 12 of which were officers. He knew instinctively that everything was all right but his senses were tingling and they had nothing to do with radioactive spiders but rather twenty years of naval experience almost six of which as captain of this particular boat.

It came upon him suddenly, when he realized that amidst the chattering, the occasionally electronic beeps, that something was missing, a sound that was indicative of this time of year. Always at Lori’s birthday he noticed it because the months coincided but this year, there was only silence and that unnerve.

"Hennesy," Isaiah asked, "when was the last time you heard any biologics?"

The young com officer looked up at his captain quizzically, "I beg your pardon Sir?"

"You heard me," he repeated himself. "When was the last time you heard any biologics? You know, goddamn whales?"

"A couple of hours," the younger man replied nervously. "Its not something we keep records for Sir," he tried to explain.

"I know that lieutenant," Isaiah looked at him. "But this time of year is when they migrate to colder waters and last year we were thinking of lighting one of the candles just to shut them up. Don’t you find it odd that it’s suddenly so quiet out there?"

"Yes Sir," Hennessy replied but there was nothing he else he could add because unless there was some unusual activity taking place in the ocean, he was at a loss to his captain to explain what was the cause for the absence.

Isaiah returned to his command chair, making a mental note to speak to someone about this occurrence when he returned to shore, perhaps at one of the oceanography institutes at Norfolk. Maybe they could explain the mysteries of whale migration pattern and why this silence seemed to so unnerving to him.

Suddenly the console where Lt. Harris was presently stationed came alive with flashing lights and a low whine that indicated the hardware had detected something it did not like. Isaiah was on his feet in seconds, crossing the bridge floor along with his First Officer, Commander Purcelli.

"What is it Harris?" Isaiah demanded.

"Sir, we have something hot coming on sonar that's headed straight at us!" Harris exclaimed with a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

"I want a better definition than something Mister," Isaiah barked.

"I don't think it's a boat!" Harris' voice mirrored his confusion.

"Its moving at 30 knots," Purcelli leaned over his shoulder and studied the rate of the advancing bogey. "Of course it's a boat."

"I don't know Sir," Hennesy chimed in. "If it is a boat, it isn't making any of the noise that its supposed to be."

"What?" Isaiah looked over his shoulder at the young man. "Report lieutenant."

"It's just that there's nothing coming through on passive sonar, no propellers, no machinery, no talking nothing. Even if they were going on silent running, at thirty knots, we'd hear something but its all quiet out there."

"Any chance it's a biologic?" He questioned.

"It's moving at 30 knots Captain," Purcelli interjected. "Whales don't go that fast."

"Sir, its a five hundred feet and closing," Harris announced. "Its definitely on interception range."

The tension on the bridge was mounting but not because of the attack because they could not determine what it was that was coming at them. Isaiah thought quickly and decided to solve this once and for all. "Purcelli, initiate active sonar for me. One ping. Let's find out once and for all what we're dealing with here."

"Four hundred feet and closing," Harris declared once again.

As Purcelli went to his station to carry out the Captain's order, Isaiah turned to his helm officer. "Get out of its way and see if its follows us. I don't want to be getting jumpy just because some Russian might be on maneuvers the same as we. Unless there's a war going on and nobody told us," he added dryly.

"One ping activated," Purcelli responded and for the minutes that followed, everyone on the bridge waited for the reflecting pulse of sound to reach the hull of the enemy ship and be sent back to alert them what threat was approaching it. The returning acoustics would tell those on the bridge just what kind of boat they were dealing with, the echoing reverberation providing a telling signature. Seconds dragged into minutes and the signal returned hard, it echoed through the confines of the ship but provided no answers.

"Any idea what it is?" Isaiah demanded as the ping resonance alone would be able to help determine what kind of sub they were facing.

"We can't identify it," Harris said after a moment, "but we should get a visual soon."

"That's impossible," Purcelli shook its head. "Maybe its a new kind of sub, something that doesn't..." no that couldn't be, he thought. It was impossible unless the laws of physics had undergone some radical change. There were just some things that technology could not overcome and this was one of them.

"Get us out of its way," Isaiah said calmly, moving to the command chair now and taking a seat, a pose his men knew meant he was preparing for a fight.

"Two hundred feet," Harris's voice echoed through the bridge. "It's definitely closing on us."

"Plot countermeasures," Isaiah said coolly taking the first step.

"Aye Sir," came Purcelli's reply and the bridge became a hive of activity, with the sub's efforts to evade the enemy noticed by the subtle ripple in his coffee cup. Other than that, no one noticed that the Connecticut was playing tag with its unidentified enemy. "Helm, plot countermeasures."

"Countermeasures plotted now," " the helmsman nodded.

"Sir," Harris spoke up. "I think you better come look at this."

Isaiah exchanged a glance with his first officer and then moved to Harris' screen. What appeared on the sonar was not a boat by any definition of the word. It wasn't a whale either. As Captain and XO stared, both were gripped with the same thought. What the hell were they looking at?

"Is that a biologic?" Purcelli finally broke first. "It doesn't look like a whale."

"It's definitely not a whale," Harris returned. "I don't know what the hell that is. A squid perhaps?"

"That's a pretty fucking big calamari," Purcelli remarked dubiously.

"Doesn't matter," Isaiah replied taking the gloves off. "Flood torpedo tubes 1 and 2!"

"It maintaining pursuit Sir," Harris replied, "it's not letting us go. It's matching our speed."

"I guessed that," Isaiah said

Sitting back down in his chair, he heard Purcelli inform him a few seconds later that the torpedo tubes 1 and 2 were flooded and loaded.

"Release a mine and detonate by remote before it gets to the target," Isaiah ordered, "it its a biologic, see if this scares it off. I don't want to launch a Mk 4 at a whale unless I really have to."

"Aye Sir," Purcelli nodded in agreement. "Launch a mine."

Meanwhile Isaiah took the opportunity to address his men who must surely be wondering what was happening on the bridge with the sub suddenly switching from cruising to full speed ahead. "All hands, this is Captain Hill, we've encountered a whale with a hard on for this ship," he replied with a hint of amusement, though there was none in his voice. They didn't need to know they were being chased down by something the bridge couldn't identify, not yet anyway. "We're detonating a mine to try and drive it away without harm so please remain calm and we'll keep you informed of developments as they take place."

A slight shudder through the ship indicated the launch of the small mine from the Connecticut. "Mine's away." Purcelli announced to the captain.

"Wait until it's beyond the halfway point between us and the biologic and detonate. That will show we mean business." Isaiah replied.

"Aye Sir," Purcelli nodded.

A few more seconds passed and the explosion could be felt throughout the ship as the shock wave impacted against the sub, a low, dull sound that caused a slight shimmer through the metal but little else. The modern submarines were built to withstand greater strains against its hull but a mine was still a mine and Isaiah was tense. There was something about this he didn't like. Something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Is it gone?" He asked almost as soon as the shudder had died.

"No Sir," Harris responded barely a fraction of a second later. "It's increased its speed. Its fifty feet away."

"What the hell!" Isaiah stood up and looked at him in annoyance. It was too close to fire a torpedo now. "What's its speed?"

"Increasing to 35 knots," Harris looked at him as amazed as the rest of the bridge.

"Thirty five knots?" Isaiah couldn't hide his shock. "It's closing."

"Fire another mine at it!"

"But its too close..." Purcelli started to say but they didn't have any choice. The captain was correct. Whatever was following them had to be stopped now, before it reached them. With no idea of what the thing even was, they could not allow it to intercept the submarine. There were too many incidents in recent times of subs going down in these depths and almost all of them ended tragically with the loss of all hands. He was not going to have Lori face another birthday losing another parent. He couldn't do that to his little girl.

"Do it!" Isaiah barked.

"Release another mine," Purcelli ordered.

"All hands," Isaiah was shouting through the com system, "brace for mine detonation!" This one was going to be close and they would feel it. In fact they might more than just feel it. It could potentially damage the ship.

The blast sent powerful shock waves through the water and the submarines reeled from the concussive force. The sound resonated throughout the hull, ensuring that every man on board knew the peril they faced. The explosion was followed by another sound and this one was more unearthly, a dull roar that traveled through the water, caused Seamen Hennessy to pull away his headset as the noise penetrated the metal.

"What the hell was that?" Purcelli asked.

No sooner than the question was heard, something hard smashed against the hull with enough force to ensure that anything that wasn't bolted down went flying. Isaiah almost fell out of his chair and had to grip the armrests to keep from tumbling to the floor. Not so lucky were Purcelli and Harris who were thrown across the bridge. Across the length of the sub, emergency klaxons screamed to life at the attack. Men who had taken their stations during the alert were reeling from the unconventional assault.

"I think," Isaiah said as he felt another powerful clang against his ship's hull, "whatever it was. We pissed it off. Helm! Full forward rudder!"

"Aye Sir!"

The vessel struggled to surge ahead, despite being in the grip of a creature they could not see except for the faint images in the sonar that were no match for a visual identification. Engines droned to life within the engine room as the nuclear powered submarines propelled itself forward through the icy sea. Within its hull, its occupants held on for dear life as the beast struggled to keep its prey. Tentacles wrapped around the bullet like craft while others smashed against steel determined to buckle it.

"Captain!" Purcelli shouted as status reports came in. "We're taking on water in the rear compartment. Engineering is sealing it but we gotta get out of here."

"Launch a torpedo!" Isaiah shouted.

"But..." Purcelli protested. A torpedo would avail them nothing. The 'thing' that had them was too close! A torpedo would never hit it!

"DO IT!" Isaiah almost roared in response. "Helm! The minute that torpedo launches, you take us full steam ahead! With any luck, the torpedo might surprise it long enough to get away!"

"Aye Sir!" His helmsman nodded and his XO shouted the orders that would see a torpedo launched.

Across the Connecticut, men were struggling to remain calm, carrying out their duties to deal with the damage being caused by the relentless attack. Those who could look out a portal were uncertain of what they were seeing beyond the walls of the boat, dark, vague shapes through the almost black water, a fleeting glimpse of a tentacle but little more. One thing was clear however; whatever lay beyond was determined to tear the boat apart. As the pounding continued, breaches appeared in the hull, fissures allowing the briny water of the sea to seep in, until compartments had to be evacuated and sealed for fear of causing irreparable damage. There was a good deal of prestige that went with serving on a submarine but it came at a hefty price that disasters on board ship especially at this depth were almost always fatal.

The submarine as the torpedo tubes were flooded in readiness and klaxons for launch now screamed across the ship. Isaiah was no longer sitting down, he was next to the helmsman, hoping his gamble would work and that they would gain enough distance between themselves and what that was outside to be able to fight back.

"Torpedo away!" Lt. Briggs, the Torpedo Officer announced.

"NOW" Isaiah shouted.

"Full steam ahead Sir!" The young man shouted as the Connecticut surged ahead, taking advantage of the momentary distraction provided by the launch of the torpedo. The submarine propelled itself forward unaccustomed to accelerating to such speeds so quickly but more than capable of handling the strain. Within, they felt their escape by a violent jerk that made everyone stagger and those who weren't paying attention fell.

"It's in pursuit!" Harris barked out. "Matching our speed at 25 knots!"

"Mr. Purcelli," Isaiah turned to his first officer, a murderous gleam in his eyes. "Launch another torpedo and blow that fucker to pieces."

"Aye Sir," Purcelli nodded with a grin. "You heard the captain!" He barked to Briggs.

"Captain!" Hennesy spoke up, "Sir, it's the reactor room," the young man said uneasily. "All that pounding has caused some damage there. We may have had radiation leakage."

"Of course," Isaiah grumbled. "Tell the reactor room, we'll surface as soon as we're done dealing with the thing that's trying to kill us."

"Torpedo away!"

Once again, the Connecticut shuddered as its discharged the Mark 48 ADCAP torpedo exploded from its tubes and raced through the water, froth trailing behind as it sought out its prey. The Watcher in pursuit took little stock of the small device coming towards it, its savage mind unable to register such a thing as a threat. The prey it was hunting was capable of making strange noises it could not identify and the large expulsion of one of these odd objects had distracted it but deterred it no more than that. The beast had not fed in an age and today it was determined to feast on the hearts contained within the prey's formidable shell.

As the small projectile closed in, the Watcher's focus was still on the prey it was chasing, its own dark heart filled with the pleasure of a worthy hunt. It was so long, so long since it had known the pleasure of hunting for its meal. Trapped in limbo where the absence of hunger did not chase away the need to feed, the Watcher was experiencing the nearest it could feel to exultation as it chased its prey.

It was a fitting sensation to feel at the end.

The explosion tore through its flesh with such shocking finality the fell beast did not have time to register its end. The blast expanded through the water like a bubble, surging out it all directions, causing shock waves of kinetic energy and sound to assault anything in its path. Within the Connecticut, the explosion could be heard through the hull, felt by every man on board as the hull shuddered somewhat and the sub rocked against the wave. Up above on the surface, the expulsion of energy caused a spectacular geyser of froth and foam to be ejected into the grey sky.

"Harris?" Isaiah looked at his sonar officer, wanting to break the silence that followed the blast.

"The enemy is destroyed Sir," the young man said. "Whatever it was."

Isaiah did not show his relief, merely folding his hands behind his back and nodding stoically. That emotion could be expressed by the men sharing the bridge with him and ignored it when they did. "Take us up Purcelli and tell everyone to prepared to carry out radiation protocols once we're on the surface."

"Aye Sir," Purcelli nodded.

The Connecticut made its ascent to the surface without incident as his men prepared to exercise radiation protocols, one of the many drills practiced over time for the event of reactor failure. When one worked on board a nuclear submarine, the danger of radiation was a fact of life and while the engineers ensured the danger was minimal, Isaiah was not about to risk anyone's life by taking half measures. Besides, after the beating his boat had just taken, he was looking forward to seeing a bit of sky overhead.

"We're up to periscope depth Captain," Purcelli announced, prompting Isaiah to leave his command chair.

"Let's see what its like upstairs," he answered, pulling down the device and leaning against the handles as he took a look through the eyepiece. Isaiah hoped it was a nice day. Of course, a nice day in the middle of the Arctic Ocean was any day that didn't have biting rain and heavy sweeping winds. Unfortunately when Isaiah looked through the eyeglass, he was greeted with all these things. The sky was grey and heavy with rain clouds and droplets of rain immediately assailed the lens across the glass.

The ocean for all its choppiness was clear of traffic as Isaiah swiveled around to get a full scope of the surrounding area when something made him pause and straighten up, away from the lens.

"Purcelli," he looked at his first officer. "Where are we?"

"I beg your pardon Captain?" Purcelli looked at him strangely.

"Where in the charts are we?" He asked again.

'The Norwegian basin at coordinates 3 by 87 degrees longitude and latitude, why?" Purcelli inquired.

"That's what I thought," Isaiah nodded, staring at the island he could see in the distance, the island that had never been sighted or recorded in any map in naval history. At first he had thought it was an iceberg but it that was an iceberg then it was the biggest damn one he had ever seen and they didn't usually stay motionless on the horizon. He had been a submariner for almost twenty years and one thing Captain Isaiah Hill knew how to do was tell the difference between land and an iceberg. What he was looking at was definitely the former.

"Purcelli, unless we're fucking off course and all our instrumentation is screwed," he said casually, "I'm seeing an island."

That captured the attention of everyone on the bridge.

"An island?" Purcelli replied. "But there's not supposed to be anything out here."

"Well I'm looking at something," Isaiah replied meeting his first officer's gaze before inviting him to take a look, "it's definitely an island, a pretty big one too."

"What is this the fucking Twilight Zone?" The hot- headed Italian grumbled as he came to look.

"At least," Isaiah agreed with a sardonic smile. An island, in the middle of nowhere, undiscovered. It was impossible. The technology of today could tell what a man was reading in a newspaper from orbit. Global positioning satellites could find terrorists hiding out in caves in the middle of some war torn hell. There was no way an entire island could have been missed, even if centuries of naval exploration had been completely remiss. How on earth had it managed to avoid all detection?

"That's an island," Purcelli retorted when he looked at Isaiah again.

"Can't put anything past you Johnny," Isaiah replied with a hint of amusement. Amusement was the only way he knew how to deal with this. Too much impossibility was springing up on him today. Islands that could not possibly exist and creatures from the depths that could somehow match the speed of a nuclear submarine and come damn near to sinking it, was more than Isaiah should have been able to take. However, being the commander of a boat where every trip had the possibility of being fatal made for incredibly strong nerves, indeed all men who served on submarines developed such calluses over their fear quickly or simply could not function aboard.

"How?" Purcelli shook his head bewildered.

"Doesn't matter how," Isaiah returned smoothly. "What matters is that its there and we need to take look. Take us up to the surface," he ordered.

"Aye Sir," came the automatic reply.

"Take a look?" His XO stared back at him.

"Come on Columbus," Isaiah said with a smile, "we're about to discover the New World."

*************

She should have climbed on her horse and ridden straight away to find Legolas and the others but there was too much evil lurking on Valinor to travel unarmed on this day. She returned to the Anemone after she had sighted the exodus of ships leaving the Bay of Eldamar for the open sea. She had spend enough time on this vessel in the past two years to know where Eve kept certain things. She hurried below decks and sought the chest covered in dust from disuse. Ariel felt like an intruder as she reached for the shelf where the key to this particular box was kept and thanks to her elven senses was able to find it quickly enough.

Lowering herself to her knees, Ariel slid the key into the lock and twisted, wondering if this was madness. It was madness to attempt to reach home without so much as a knife and somehow, she guessed that if she were to run into a warg or a worse yet a spider, a blade would not help her prevail. She had not faced an enemy in her entire life. On Valinor, there were no enemies. She had spent her entire existence sheltered in comfort, learning skills she would never use only because boredom had driven her to acquire it. Ariel was slightly ashamed that now that the moment had come for her to employ any of those skills, she was searching for the simplicity of human efficiency.

Opening the chest, she stared inside at the cache of alien weapons, cast from black iron and looking formidable indeed. Eve had shown her how to use some of these; much to Legolas' chagrin who felt the weapons were crude and lacking any real need of skill to use. Ariel suspected he disliked the idea of her learning the use of any weapon because it might mean some day she would be called onto fight or worse, would believe herself capable. It was not that he wanted her to fail but his desire to protect her forced him into some rather selfish behavior. Before he had gone away to the seek out Olorin, she had tolerated it but now with Arda opened and Ariel finding in herself the need to see what was beyond Valinor, she was becoming less amicable to his restrictions.

She reached for the easiest weapon to handle; the one Eve called the handgun. It was relatively easy to use having no more instructions than a bow. She searched the box for the projectiles that made the weapon work and ran through the list that was branded into her mind thanks to the acuity of elven memory. Loading the gun, she remembered that was something to engage to ensure it did not fire when she did not wish it too and found the...what did Eve call it, the 'safety'? Setting the safety on the weapon, Ariel rose brought down the lid and locked it once more.

It did not take her long to emerge on the ship's deck once more. The wind seemed to blow harder with the coming of night and Ariel considered returning below to find a blanket before she made the long ride home. It was far colder than anything she had ever experienced in her long life and her clothes, soaked from the plunge into the ocean earlier now clung to her skin like sheets of ice. Now that they were no longer under the protection of the Valar, she could fall prey to the sicknesses that were capable of being conjured by exposure to the elements.

Deciding that a blanket would indeed be sensible protection from the cold weather during her ride back to Legolas and the others, Ariel started to move towards the walkway that led inside the vessel when suddenly, she sensed something. It tugged at the corner of her consciousness, instilling her with a chill that had little to do with the icy winds blowing at her skin. She froze and turned around, her eyes searching the length of the boat until her keen hearing honed in on the sound.

Something was breathing, breathing with a heavy pant.

She could feel its menace exuding forth like the slow drift of black smoke. It was drawing near. Ariel's first thought was to flee beneath the deck but then realized to do so would be to invite her own death for its space was too confining to fight if she forced into it. No, what was coming would kill her if she did not acquit herself accordingly. She had never before in her life drawn any weapon to do battle and whilst she knew she had the skill, she lacked the experience that made warriors great. She was not her husband though she wished more than any thing that he were here at this moment facing this peril.

The sense of doom began to form into something hardier, something that had shape and tangibility. It sounded in her ears as the soft pads of flesh against wet wood. Elven senses forced her into movement; her eyes fixed upon the wooden pier that led away from the water's edge to the shore. Cautiously, she moved along the deck of the vessel known as Anemone and froze when she heard the patter of footsteps closing in, moving stealthily towards her. Her heart began to pound as she neared the pier and prepared to disembark when a blast of heat washed over her neck, wet and abated.

She swung around as the warg launched itself at her. Ariel let out a short scream as its massive bulk flew through the air, enormous jaws preparing to snap around her throat. She threw herself out of the way and scrambled to her feet when it landed in the place she had been standing. Leaping over the railing, she landed on the wooden deck and almost lost her footing on the sleet-covered ground. The beast swung its head in her direction and let out an indignant howl at her audacity to run. Ariel had only seen this creatures in books before this day but as malevolent yellow eyes glared at her in hatred, she knew that if she did not defend herself, it would be the last time she saw anything ever again.

The idea of dying. The idea of being killed and leaving her sweet Prince to mourn what would surely be a devastating loss propelled her forward. She needed to reach her horse. Fear compelled her to move without further debate and as she ran, Ariel looked over her shoulder long enough to see the beast give chase. Mouth open, tongue lolling to the side, white teeth gleaming with rain and saliva, the warg advanced quickly, its muscles rippling beneath the pelt of fur. Ariel's faced front, knowing she should not look behind lest she wanted to live when she realized her horse was not there. Where had her mare disappeared! It was only as she reached the end did she see the blood and guessed the animal's fate.

A fate she would soon share. Behind her, she could hear its pounding footsteps closing in on her. Swinging around, she saw the beast coming and it would be upon in a matter of seconds. Heart pounding with terror, Ariel knew there was only one course left to her. Raising the weapon she was still clutching but too uncertain to use, she replayed in her head all of Eve's instruction and prayed that it was enough. Practically shaking as she disengaged the safety precaution she had put into place earlier, she watched in wide-eyed fear as the warg closed the distance and pounced. Her ears were filled with it powerful roar as Ariel began pulling the trigger and then suddenly, the call of the warg seemed to wither and faced with the explosion of sound the weapon in her hand.

Like thunder exploding around her ears, Ariel watched in horror as her simple action of squeezing her finger against the cold steel caused a burst of fire to escape the barrel at the warg in rapid succession. The sound drained all other noise from her hearing, until there was almost physical discomfort in being forced to listen. She did not know how many times she pulled the trigger, only that it created further explosions of near deafening sound. Through this maelstrom of mini-sonic booms, she heard the cry of the warg who would presume to take her life. Its outraged roars of pain soon disintegrating into animalistic howls of defeat. Ariel did not stop pulling the trigger until there was no more noise and every projectile within the weapon's chamber was unleashed upon the beast.

When Ariel opened her eyes, she saw the warg before her, its blood sweeping across the deck towards her feet. Its body riddled in holes, shredded by the 'bullets' as called by Eve, that Ariel had set upon it. She stood over the beast in its death; its massive bulk unmoving as it lay before her dead. Glassy eyes stared into nothingness as Ariel stepped back, not wishing her feet to become stained by blood. She looked at thing in its death and realized that it was the first time in her existence that she had taken a life. Even if it was a fell beast that would have killed her with little remorse, Ariel was nonetheless staggered.

Retreating but a few steps, she sunk to the damp ground, staring at the warg, at the kill she had made today and could understand not how anyone found pleasure in death. It was a bloody, terrible thing, to have such power in ones grasp and yield it to the sorrow of another. She knew it was foolishness, it was a warg that she grieved over but any that asked would know it was not the beast that made her ache so. It was the loss of her innocence.

Never again she could look into the mirror and count herself untainted.

There was blood on her hands.

***********

There was no need of elven senses to hear the sound of gunfire, even through the rain or howling wind.

Bryan Miller had lived with that sound almost all his life. The ability to create that commotion was the defining characteristic of his entire persona. Violence was all he knew and for a brief moment, for a singular instant in time, he was shown another way, a way where one did not have to fight, where faith alone could move mountains and love was not just for poets. She had been everything and when she died, Tory had taken the best of him with her. He knew that now. He knew that as he rode through the rain and sleet to reach Eve, to spare Aaron Stone the emptiness that was swallowing him whole.

"What the hell was that?" Aaron demanded.

"A bloody 45!" Bryan retorted digging his heels into his mount, sending his horse galloping forward with even greater speed. The sounds continued with a cluster of explosions that told Bryan that someone was taking great exception to being attacked and was defending themselves accordingly.

"It Eve!" Aaron shouted, forgetting all his apprehension with horses and he sat forward in his saddle and urged his horse to keep up with Bryan who was galloping ahead hard. It could be no one else. With Miranda, Eric and Jason returning to Tirion with the children, the only person who was capable of firing a 45 was Eve. Aaron felt his heart contract in his chest from cold fear because he knew that Eve loathed to use guns in Valinor. Even when she had been giving Ariel lessons, much to Legolas' consternation, she had tried to limit how many shots were fired. It was profane, she called it. Now it appeared, she was not merely using it, she was firing away guns blazing. With everything they had seen so far tonight, Aaron didn't even want to consider what she and their baby were facing to warrant such an unrelenting attack.

Legolas and Elrohir were soon surging forward with equal determination, one to find the sister that they had found again and the other to ensure the wife he had spent so many years with was not taken by Sauron's malice as Tory had been stolen away from Bryan. Legolas did not speak his anxieties to either Aaron or Bryan because it would avail him nothing and only strain their already precarious emotional states to breaking point. Aaron was terrified not only for his wife but also for his unborn babe. Despite his efforts to maintain his composure, Legolas could see the full extent of grief on every breath that Bryan took.

The former Prince of Mirkwood understood Bryan's pain all too well and had no wish to endure the agony of losing a wife, yet again. A part of him had died when Melia had passed onto the next world and as much as he loved Ariel, even though he knew that she carried Melia's soul, it never felt the same. Not entirely. She was his soul mate and had spared him endless years of sorrow but as much as he despised himself for it, Legolas had never been able to feel the same burning passion for Ariel as he had for that girl in her blue dress that night in Lorien.

Breaking through the forest of trees that framed the shore, it was Legolas who first saw the Anemone swaying precariously above the choppy water, amidst the powerful swell of ocean tides and biting wind. However, it was not the vessel that was had caught his attention and had him pressing his heels deeper into Arod's flank, pushing the horse to thunder forward despite the weather, over taking Bryan as they advanced forward. Sand and mud splattered beneath the hooves while rain swept over him like tiny needles biting at his skin. He could only see his wife, kneeling before the beast, his keen eyes seeing the blood, so much of it that had stained her shoes and turned the hem of her dress crimson.

She had killed the creature, he realized when he reached her after dismounting his horse. Had she used Eve's weapon to do it? Legolas saw her holding the gun in her hand. The idea that she had used it seemed unbelievable to him but then one only had to look at the blood on her clothes and the creature on the pier to know that she had indeed used the malicious weapon on an even more malicious foe.

"Ariel," he called to her.

She turned to him, face stained with tears. Seeing him widened her eyes and relief flooded into her lovely features. "Oh Prince," she cried out and hurried into his arms. "You're here!"

"I would find you wherever you are," he said holding her close. "Are you harmed?"

"No," she shook her head, her face buried in his chest as she wept. "I killed it. I have taken a life."

"It is a life not to be mourned my love," he said stroking her wet hair, aware that the thing she had killed was not the point. It was the entire notion of snatching away life from another being, had deservedly or not. It was a thing that warriors suffered. He had done so in his youth and Thranduil's sympathetic words had assuaged his guilt. Legolas hoped his father's advice would help her as it had helped the young prince of Mirkwood. "You did what needed to be done. You live and the enemy is dead. There is cold comfort in that I know," he said forcing her to look at him. "But it is all that can be hoped for."

Ariel nodded, trying to be brave from her prince when she looked over his shoulder and saw the approach of the others and suddenly, something even greater than her fear emerged to the surface of her tormented thoughts. "Sauron!" She broke away. "He has taken Eve!"

"No," Aaron grimaced, his mind almost paralyzed with horror and anguish at the notion of Eve in Saeran's hand. "Where is she?" He broke into a run to reach Legolas. "Tell me? What did he do?"

Aaron would have grabbed her and shaken the answer out of Ariel if not for Legolas' body shielding her. "Tell me!"

"Aaron," Bryan grabbed his arm, trying to calm him down, understanding all too well what the doctor was going through. "Let her talk!"

Ariel was shaking hard from the cold, her ordeal at the hands of Sauron and the beast that was his agent but she was not so out of her wits that she did not recognize the necessity of an expedient answer. "He forced her to go with him," she said looking at Aaron with sorrow in her eyes. "He threatened the babe in her body and told her," Ariel paused feeling tears come because she had been so helpless, so unable to help her friend. She forced them back, her fingers digging into Legolas' for support as she forced herself to speak, "he told her he would kill it in her belly and I as well if she did not obey. Aaron, she went with him to save us both." There was shame in her eyes.

Aaron turned away, unable comprehend the magnitude of what he was told. Eve, his wife, the son of a bitch had his wife and his child. The enormity of it threatened to choke the life out of him. Saeran had already killed Tory, taken her life out of sheer spite and he had greater reason to hate the reincarnation of Isildur's line. Even if they could defeat the bastard, there was every possibility that he would kill Eve first, kill her before Aaron ever saw her face again. No, he almost doubled over in anguish. Not Eve too, not after Tory.

"God," he whispered. "Eve."

Elrohir came to him and clutched his arm, "we will find her." The elf that was once Undomiel's brother said with determination. "We will get them both back."

"Did you see where they went?" Bryan said quietly, unable to give Aaron any comfort, not when he was trying to deal with Tory's loss. He was strong because he knew how to control his emotions after a lifetime of service to queen and country where he had seen men die and been the cause of their deaths at one time or another. Granted, nothing had prepared him for Tory's death and he would have to deal with the grief of her passing eventually. However, right now, Eve whom he cared about was in the hands of the bastard who took Tory from him and he was not going to let Aaron suffer the same hell.

"He is no longer in Valinor," Ariel broke away from Legolas, finding a reservoir of strength inside her she did not know existed. She looked to the horizon of the grey sea. "He has stolen the grey ships of the Teleri and ferried his agents away from these shores. I saw them," she whirled around and stared at the men before her. "Wargs, orcs, spiders," she spat bitterly, "every foul thing from the depths of Mandos has been freed. He has unleashed them all and they go now to your world," she met Bryan's gaze. "He goes there to rule."

"We must follow him," Legolas returned. "Your people will not know how to fight the Urloki or the Watchers. After the balrogs are done on these shores, they will go forth as well. They will turn Arda to ash."

"My people will fight them," Bryan replied grimly, "but they'll likely destroy the planet trying to do it and I think that's what Saeran wants. He may get his nuclear war yet."

"And we are alone," Legolas said shaking his head, looking to the sky as if staring hard enough would reveal to him the fate of the Valar whose absence in all this was almost as disconcerting as Sauron's departure from these shores. Unfortunately, there was no enlightenment, just more rain and wind turning his pale skin slowly blue.

"Aaron," Bryan looked at the psychiatrist who had been silent in all this, "Aaron I need you to pull yourself together." Bryan strode across the ground towards the doctor and grabbed his arm to force Aaron into facing him.

"Aaron!" Bryan's voice was like the hard snapping of the gale force wind. "I need you to pull yourself together."

"He'll kill her," Aaron said shaking his head. "He'll never let us reach her. He'll kill her the minute we lay our eyes on her."

"AARON!" Bryan barked. "I don't bloody have time for this. She's still alive and while she's alive, we have a chance to get her back! You can deal with that fact or you can write her off now and let me tell you something," his voice almost cracked. "Some hope is better than nothing at all. Eve is still breathing and every moment she breathes is a chance for us to save her."

Aaron stared at Bryan and knew just how hard that was for Bryan to say, how much pain he was actually hiding behind his green eyes. "You think we can get her back?"

"I don't know," Bryan was not about to lie, "but we have to try." His voice almost a whisper. "We have to try while there's a chance."

Bryan turned away and blinked, tightening his control over his emotions as his eyes misted over.

"What has happened?" Ariel saw the son of Gondor's sorrowed expression and knew that something terrible had occurred. Then she remembered what Sauron had said.

"Do I have to kill another of you?"

"Who is dead?" Ariel turned to her husband. "What has Sauron done?"

Legolas looked at his wife an answered quietly, "Sauron took Tory's life."

"Oh no!" Ariel gasped softly, her eyes switching immediately to Bryan. "Oh Bryan," her hand flew to her lips as her cheeks became wet with tears. "Not Tory."

Ariel considered the graceful young woman who was mother to Fred and almost wife to the son of Gondor a friend. It was Ariel who aided Tory in finding her way in Valinor, as she had helped Eve when Undomiel's reincarnation had first arrived in the Undying Lands. Tory had been a good, kind soul, a woman who heart bore the serenity of an elf. A sob escaped Ariel and she turned away to hide her grief in Legolas' shoulder, wishing to hide her pain from Bryan who was must be suffering beyond her ability to comprehend. Legolas held his wife, taken back by her strength somewhat. He was seeing something in her that he had not seen before and it was rather taking him by surprise.

"We have to follow him," Bryan said after a composing himself once more. "He'll be heading for England first. His base of power is in Europe, England is the sensible place to start."

"He will marshal all his agents in your world," Elrohir responded. "The Uruks you spoke of," he reminded Bryan and Aaron, "and the creatures in his lair where we battled the Nine."

"He has a great deal of power in Europe," Bryan replied walking towards the horses, "he has all the resources of Malcolm Industries to wage a war on two fronts. The modern world will have no idea what they'll be dealing with."

"He'll go to Romania," Aaron said finally.

"Romania?" Bryan met his gaze and then nodded a moment later when he realized that the doctor was right.

"Yes," Legolas added in agreement. "He is a creature of habit."

"It is his place of power," Elrohir sighed, knowing that once again, the hills of overlooking the Mountain of Fire would be witness to another great battle, perhaps the last one. "Its what he knows."

"And where we have to go to find Eve," Aaron said finally, deciding that Bryan was right. He had no choice but to believe that getting her back was possible. While she still breathed, there was still a chance and there was nowhere he would not go to retrieve her, nowhere that was too far away.

Even to Barad-dûr.

Chapter Five
Tirion 

Seeing Tirion in flames was like seeing the desecration of some place holy.

As Miranda Miller closed in on the elven city, escorted by her reincarnated brother and his best friend, with her children huddled in the back of the carriage, she tried to hide the shock on her face. The city of jewel and pearl was alight. The flames within illuminating the night sky with amber glow. It evaporated the rain coming down from the thunder loud sky and drew strength from the hard winds blowing across the island. She could hear screams in the distance, rumbles that did not sound like thunder but something darker and more sinister. Fell denizens had been unleashed upon this pristine world. Miranda knew evil and she could feel its powerful breath across her skin. Sense told her she ought to turn back, get the children as far away from Tirion as possible but she could not bring herself to leave, not when Frank was in there, somewhere.

"I don't know if this is a good idea," Jason replied staring at the city before them. "It looks like a war zone."

Indeed it did. Polished white marble was blackened with heat. Walls had crumbled, struck by a malevolence that had yet to be defined. There was smoke, fire and screaming, all the ingredients of peril that should have warned them away. As they approached, the horses snorted their displeasure at having to proceed. Their heads reared unhappily and took uncertain steps forward as if attempting to convince their riders to do the same. The carriage jerked a little as the animals debated the wisdom of continuing and Miranda heard Sam clambering next to her.

"Mum, what's going on?" Sam asked.

"Sammie get in the back," Miranda ordered without looking at him, her eyes fixed ahead, "go keep your brother and Fred safe."

If there was trouble she did not want the enemy, whatever it was, to know about her children, little Fred included.

"But..." the boy started to protest.

"Now Sammie," Miranda said in a tone that would have sent Jason and Eric to the back of the carriage if they had been addressed similarly.

Sam frowned unhappily but obeyed nonetheless. He knew better than to argue with her mother when she used that particular voice.

Jason waited until the boy had retreated before he regarded the woman. Miranda Miller was perhaps the strongest woman he knew, not merely in her ability to protect herself and her children but by sheer will. Although he would never say it out loud, since it would undoubtedly result in his getting a mouthful of fist, Miranda's instinct to protect her own reminded him of the Alien Queen that had done battle with Sigourney Weaver in the Alien films. Fortunately for him, her own included the people she cared about, not merely her immediate family.

"What do you want to do?" Jason asked her quietly, certain the children were listening closely even if they were not supposed to.

Eric nudged his horse closer to the front of the carriage, interested in taking part in this particular discussion because he was uncertain about allowing his sister and her children to enter Tirion when it appeared as if the city had descended into the seventh level of hell. However, he knew Miranda well enough now to be certain that she would be unwilling to turn back, not when Frank's fate was a mystery. Not just Frank's but their friends Elladan and his family.

"We have to go find Frank," Miranda retorted firmly but even as she said it, she was weighing the full implications of that statement. Did she dare bring the children into the city? Now that she was close enough to see what sort of chaos was tearing it apart? Fred had been traumatized enough by Tory's death, did the child need to see another person in her life die? Even as Miranda thought it, she felt the surge of grief that wanted to bubble forward at the memory of Tory's lifeless body in front of her. Not now, she closed her eyes and forced the anguish away because the children needed her to be strong and she would kill anyone who tried to hurt that poor little girl again.

"Mira," Eric said leaning forward in the saddle calling her that nickname she loathed but seemed to tolerate from him only, "I think the kids should wait here. We'll both go."

Miranda's expression softened a little as she met the eyes of the Australian who entered her life less than a year ago and in some distant past been her brother. Moments like these swept aside all her skepticism about this being fact because she felt it deep in the pit of her that it was true. The sense that no matter what, he would stand by here because they shared a bond of blood no amount of time could change. However, in this instance, she could not agree with his reasoning.

"No Eric," she shook her head. "I think it's important we stay together. It's when we're apart that we're weakest." She didn't want to say that had Tory been with Bryan and all the others, the woman would not be dead. Perhaps it was unrealistic but after listening to that old codger Gandalf who delighted the children by his visits and impressive fireworks, Miranda believed there was power in their fellowship. Even if it had expanded beyond the original 'Nine Walkers'.

"Mira," he started to protest.

"I won't let us get separated," she said firmly, her voice setting in stone to prove how obdurate she would be on this subject.

Eric and Jason exchanged a resigned glance, the latter giving his best friend the look that said 'hey she's your sister', before Eric spoke again, "alright, we go together. I just want it known that if anything happens to you, Bryan will skin me alive."

"Well as long as its you," Jason quipped, trying to interject some levity into the moment. In truth, Bryan would not be skinning anyone. As it was, Jason did not know how the former MI6 man was managing to hold it together after finding the woman he loved dead by that bastard Saeran's hand. He hadn't known Tory long but Jason liked her and she deserved better than to die the way she had.

"You're a real friend," Eric gave him a look.

"Let's get going," Miranda interrupted them impatiently, more than accustomed to their bickering but on this occasion having little patience for it. With all their lives at stake, she could be no other way.

*********

"We're going in there," Sam said quietly, peering out of the back of the carriage to see that they had resumed their journey.

"As we must," Fred replied enigmatically.

"Sam," Pip looked at his brother with an expression of concern at Fred's odd behavior.

At some point after she had been put into the carriage with them, Fred had seemed to change. She stopped crying for Tory and had gone very quiet. She hadn't said anything for the longest time, causing his older brother to grow frightfully worried as Sam often did whenever there was anything out of sorts with Fred. Pip didn't quite understand the bond his brother shared with Fred but he knew that it was important. Gandalf had tried to explain it to him but Pip was too young to understand and in the end, the old wizard had simply said that it would be clear to him one day. More than anything Pip wished Gandalf was here. The frightening things happening around them would not be so if Gandalf was present, of this Pip was convinced. In fact the old man's absence was part of the mystery taking place around them.

"It's alright Pip," Sam said squeezing his brother's hand to reassure him as he returned his attention to Fred. "We have to go there to find dad."

"I'm scared," Pip confessed, "everything is so different. What's wrong with the sky and why is it so cold?"

"I don't know," Sam said looking at Pip, unable to explain it because these were things beyond his comprehension. He knew only that the dark lord that Fred had been so afraid of was freed somehow and he had killed Tory.

"It is Sauron's revenge," Fred answered, looking at Pip. "He means to make everyone suffer, especially the elves."

"Why?" Pip answered, knowing only that the dark lord of whom Uncle Elladan had spoken about in the story about the magic ring had escaped his prison.

"Because it is the End of Days," she replied, eyes looking past them. "He is as much a slave to it as everyone else."

"I don't understand..." Pip looked at Sam hoping his older brother could explain better.

Sam looked back wearing the same bewildered expression. He had no more idea than Pip what Fred was saying and furthermore, he had the sense that she was not quite herself. Something had changed. He was not even certain that he was talking to Fred any more. She was someone else, some far older who had an insight into what was happening in Valinor Sam couldn't even begin to fathom.

"For all things to begin again," Fred said looking at both of them, a soft smile on her face. For a moment, Sam was almost reminded of the Golden Lady, Elladan's grandmother who had come to see them once. "For all things to begin, there must be an ending. The cycle of beginning and end must reach circle. All that is coming is by design, it has been shifting into its proper place for some time now. We are finally where we need to be."

"Fred," Sam swallowed, the fear so thick in his chest that it was making it hard to speak. "Is...is that you?"

Fred reached for his face, her small palm cupping his cheek. "She is here with us Sam."

*********

"Oh my god," Eric could only exclaim as they passed through the grand archway of marble and pearl that led into the city of Tirion.

For one who had seen Sarajevo, Kosovo and Rwanda, it was required a particular kind of carnage to engender the reaction of horror that swept over him when he saw the destruction to Tirion. The destruction was almost profane. Tall majestic spires were crumbling, those that were breathed in flame. The city that had gleamed in the sunlight, its marble towers and jewel encrusted columns of ivory and pearl was now comparable to the most war torn cities of the modern world. It struck at the core of him and Eric who prided himself in being able to maintain journalistic impartiality felt the blood in his veins boil with outrage.

It had been bad from a distance but now as the horses made their way uneasily through the debris filled streets, the horror of it was mind numbing. Eric tried not to notice the stench, a stench he knew all too well to be burning flesh. One did not have to look too hard to find the bodies. If Tirion's destruction seemed profane then it has nothing in comparison to knowing those bodies belonged to elves that had lived longer than human civilization. As a writer, he could not even conceive the words to describe how it felt to see their dead corpses.

"Tell the kids to stay in the carriage," Eric ordered as he rode ahead of the carriage.

Miranda nodded and looked over her shoulder, "Sam, you have to make sure that you keep Fred and Pip in the back won't you?" She looked at her oldest who always ready to bear the responsibility for his younger sibling and now the newest possible addition to their family.

"Yes mum," Sam nodded, not about to argue because mum's face showed her worry and what worried his mum was something he ought to be mindful of.

Miranda faced front again, trying not to be affected by what she was seeing. Jason's expression was grim and his eyes was searching for some signs of what had cause this mindless destruction. So far, there was no sign of the malevolence responsible for what had been wrought in Tirion. There was only fire and debris.

"What the hell did this?" Eric demanded, looking over his shoulder. "If I didn't know better I'd say this place had been hit with artillery."

"Do they have anything that could do this?" Jason asked, "I mean do they have weapons that could cause this kind of damage?"

"No," Miranda answered before Eric could. "They wouldn't need weapons this dangerous," she met both their eyes. "Why would they?"

She had a point.

"Something did all this," Eric retorted and his concern was mounting that whatever evil was responsible for this was still in the city. "Let's get off the street as quickly as we can," he suggested. "We'll head to the library. If Frank is still in the city, that's probably where he'd be."

In truth, it was just a guess but Eric wanted them out of sight. They were out in the open for all to see and if Eric had learnt one thing since finding himself embroiled in the affairs of elves and the Valar, the things to fear were not always worldly or conventional. In a realm where magic and second sight were common place, there was no truly safe place for Hildorien's children to hide.

"Good idea," Miranda nodded, the wife and mother starting to give way to the soldier she had been. Danger often brought out that side of her and now her mind began to think of things in tactical terms and she knew that Eric had been right; they should have left the children behind before trying to enter the city.

Suddenly the walls flanking the street down which they were travelling began to shake. Something was approaching and its footsteps were causing tremors in the ground. Pieces of wall already standing precariously gave way, crumbling unto the paved streets. The horses became panicked, refusing to move any further as the tremors gave way to the sound of the thundering approach. For a moment, none of them could move. Perhaps mesmerized by the awesome horror of what was coming, they watched like moths captured by the flame as the amber light began to move across the ruined walls. Eric's mount reared up suddenly, dislodging the newsman from the saddle before it bolted down the street in the opposite direction.

"Eric!" Miranda cried out as he hit the ground hard. Without thinking, she jumped off her seat and was at his side. He sat up from the rubble covered ground , a little disorientated but no worse for wear when suddenly all notions of running or surviving the night bled out existence as the reasons for Tirion's ruin made its first appearance before them.

"What...in...the...hell...is that?" Jason gasped as he stared at the beast, almost as tall as a building with furnaces for eyes, trailing smoke and sulfur as it carried a lash made of flame.

Paralyzed with terror for possibly the second time in her life, even more so when she had first seen the Nazgul take her children, Miranda could not speak and knew instinctively what was coming at them was beyond any of them to fight.

"GET OUT OF HERE!" She fairly shrieked at Jason as she hauled Eric to his feet. "NOW!"

Her voice shocked Jason out of his temporary lapse and the young camera man nodded, snapping the reins, trying to get the horses to move. The creature paused as it put the humans in their sights and unleashed a bellowing roar of fire and rage. As Eric scrambled to his feet, with Miranda dragging him up to help matters along, they could feel the blast of heat across their skin. The horses, more than happy to depart, immediately sprinted into action as the carriage turned in the narrow street to return the way it came.

The beast, seeing the intended departure of its prey was not so eager to let them take flight and while there was time to deal with the two on foot, it took steps to ensure that carriage did not get far. Snapping the last against the wall, the force of it bringing down a hail of rubble and fire over the top of the carriage.

"JASON!" Eric shouted as he saw his best friend leap off the carriage, having no choice but to throw himself off bear the brunt of the murderous torrent of flames and debris.

The animals wailed in agony as they were incinerated, the carriage tipping on its side as they struggled to break free of their harnesses, their manes on fire. The air began to fill with the scent of burning hair and stench. Miranda did not even think. She pulled the handgun tucked in the front of Eric's pants and ran forward. All she could think of was her children. Her children who were inside that burning wreck.

Eric didn't look over his shoulder as he ran forward to help Jason as well as his sister get her children and put as much distance between that demonic monstrosity behind them. He could feel its flame on his back as he ran, walls shattering within reach of him, as the creature's lash slammed into the marble. He could hardly breathe, it was exuding smoke so thick it would have rivaled toxic waste in the real world. A column shattered in front of him and Eric barely got past the flying shards of fine marble without serious injury. Those thundering footsteps were still there, he could feel the fear twisting cold tendrils around his spine.

Jason was on his feet, adrenaline and sheer terror forcing him to move far better than anything else. While Eric did not turn to look, Jason had a full view of the monster closing in on them. He doubted that in his entire life would he be able to forget the sight of the beast that was doomed not to forever inhabit his dreams. Eyes wide, he stumbled forward as Eric grabbed his arm and forced him to move, out distancing the creature that was going to catch up far sooner than they were capable of outrunning it.

"Sammie! Pip! Fred!" Miranda shouted as she reached the carriage and pulled open the only door not burning. She could hear Pip's voice inside its confines, crying. Her babies, what had she been thinking bringing them in here?

"Mummy!" Pip answered first as the little boy scrambled out into his mother's arms.

Miranda wrapped her arms around her youngest and held him tight. "It's alright, I'm here." She said as he cried into her blond hair. "Sam! Fred!" She called out.

Sam and Fred were in better condition than Pip and emerged hurried just as Eric and Jason arrived.

"MOVE!" Eric shouted at them. There wasn't any time to linger. They were barely going to stay ahead of that thing as it was.

Eric bend down to pick Fred up but the little girl side stepped him and started walking towards the beast.

"FRED!" Sam shouted after her. The young boy would have run after her had not Jason wrapped an arm around his waist and hoisted him off the ground to stop him from advancing any further.

"What the hell?" Eric practically skidded to a halt as he turned around and saw Fred walking resolutely towards the creature.

"STOP HER!" Miranda cried out in anguish as Fred closed the precious distance they had gained between themselves and the creature.

Fred stopped and looked at the Balrog.

The beast had raised the lash about to bring it down on the child's head when suddenly, it seemed to stop short as Fred's gaze fell upon. It lowered the lash in mid air, uttering a snort of surprise that escaped its nostrils in puffs of black smoke. It took a step forward, almost cautiously before retreating again. The furnace like eyes dimming for a moment before another step backwards was taken and then another. Fearlessly, the girl stood her ground, unmoving, challenging the creature to come forward. It made the attempt once but no more than that.

It was afraid of her.

This Eric Rowan knew without understanding how it was possible. Whatever that monstrosity was, it was afraid of her, of Fred.

Slowly, despite his better judgement, Eric walked towards Fred, certain now without understanding how, that the creature was not going to risk approaching the little girl. Eric almost wished it did because he would very much like to know what it was about Fred that could scare the demon that had damn near leveled Tirion.

As if things could get no stranger, suddenly a barrage of sharp pikes flew through the air, raining death onto the beast from aloft. Looking up, Eric saw a group of elves at the top of one of the few buildings not in flames, launching a savage assault on the creature. The beast howled in pain as the elven blessed spikes plunged into its flesh. It retreated up the way it came and suddenly was confronted by another group of elves, clad in gleaming armor carrying long shields that almost guarded their whole bodies from the flame it roared in their direction.

As the creature became assailed by the elves that were determined to end the threat of it, Eric scooped Fred in his arms and hurried away from the fighting.

"You okay sweetheart?" He asked her even though it was most likely they were still breathing because of Fred.

"Yes," she nodded, her dark hair bouncing off her shoulders as she nodded. "I am not harmed."

"I noticed," he replied carrying her back to Miranda and the others. "Want to tell me how you managed that?"

"All things as they unfold," she looked at him with eyes not belonging to an eight year old but someone far older.

It was by far the strangest thing Eric had so far seen on this shores.

"Are you going to stand there and wait for the beast to return?" A new voice declared, emerging through the smoke as the elves did battle with the demon. Arrows and pikes flew through billowing smoke and fires and losses were mounting on either side with elves dying where they stood and the creature taking substantial injuries.

"Glorifindel...isn't it?" Eric asked, having seen the elven lord but having never been formally introduced. Eric had seen him in Elrond's company and new that he was respected as a great warrior and guessed that it was he who had been leading the battle against the creature.

"I am," the balrog slayer nodded. "You have come in search of Frank."

"Yes," Miranda said hurrying to them, the mention of Frank's name jerking her forward like a puppet on a string. "Where is he?"

"He is safe," Glorifindel said quickly. "But we are emptying the city until the balrog is dealt with so you must hurry if you wish to find him. I do not know how long he will remain at Elrond's house."

"He is Elrond's?" Miranda grasped immediately, letting out a sigh of relief at knowing he was safe. After seeing what was rampaging through these streets, finding all those dead bodies, Miranda had began to entertain her worst fears regarding her husband's state of health.

"Yes, my lady," Glorifindel nodded and then looked over his shoulder as the balrog lashed out again, the great whip striking another marble wall and crumbling it as more elves encircled the creature like hunters surrounding a bear, reading for slaughter. "Now you must go," he said to all of them, "we have work to do here."

Miranda was not about to argue with the elf that more than sounded like he knew what he was doing. "Good luck," she said sincerely.

"And with you my lady," he bowed his head graciously at her unsheathing the sword that seemed to gleam in the light of the fires scattered around the city. Sweeping his gaze to the others in a look of farewell, Glorifindel joined his men as they did battle with the demon plaguing Tirion.

Eric waited until he had gone before turning to address the others.

"If Frank's at Elrond's, let's get there," the newsman urged them to get moving again. It was tempting to watch Glorifindel and his warriors doing battle with the monster but having escaped its clutches once tonight and he was still trying to figure out how, Eric was in no hurry to do so again if the things went badly for the elves.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Jason said holding Sam's hand. "You okay mate?" He looked down at Sam who had been just as mesmerized by everything that had transpired in the last hour.

Sam nodded, "I'm okay Jason." He smiled.

"That's my boy," Miranda said to her son affectionately as she ruffled his hair while still carrying Pip in her arms that wasn't about to let go of his mother's embrace. "Fred, are you alright?" She looked at the little girl in her brother's arms as they started moving up the street towards Elrond's home.

"I am unharmed," Fred answered Miranda with a somber expression.

The adults exchanged a glance, sharing the strange feeling that it wasn't Fred who amongst them.

*********

It was easy to become complacent when one was accustomed to the controlled environment of submarine’s interior with its temperature regulated and only the clocks on the walls to indicate the passage of the day. Through the periscope, the thick iron shell of the USS Connecticut protected them from the seascape of gray sky and treacherously choppy wave. Therefore it was quite a shock when Isaiah and his men emerged from the interior of the USS Connecticut into the cold, dismal weather of the Norwegian Basin.

The wind he had been able to see by the slanted drops of rain pelting against the periscope glass was hard and brittle making him cringe further into the flap jacket he was wearing. Pulling the brim of his hat lower over his eyes in an effort to shield himself from the spitting rain, Isaiah felt the icy cold temperature with each breath he took. With him, Isaiah noticed Purcelli hugging his arms closer to his body while he and Devereaux worked the oars to bring the small craft closer to the shore, further away from the Connecticut which had safely put into the island's natural deep water harbor.

However before the Connecticut had sailed into the bay, sonar and seismic equipment had allowed the Seawolf submarine to discover a chain of smaller isles preceding the landmass. Framing it almost like a shield, the gathering of islets protected the mainland from the harsh winds and inclement weather that scoured rest of the Norwegian basin. It was a simple matter to navigate through the reef like islands to enter the bay and as they pierced the links of the chain, discovered yet another isle cradled against the contours of the mainland. Lighthouses could be seen atop of cliff faces, an island vanguard against the ocean. They stood, as beacons to travelers choosing to visit although they looked nothing like what he would thought a lighthouse should to be. If not for their strategic location, he could have been forgiven for mistaking them as something else.

Like great sculptures against the backdrop of the dismal sky.

Polished marble statues that towered high, shaped by masons with more skill than any Isaiah had ever seen after a lifetime of travel, proudly welcomed visitors to this unusual shore. The beauty of it had been too much for Isaiah to deny his men and the sub had surfaced long enough for a good number of crew to brave the terrible weather to catch a brief glimpse of these magnificent constructs. A feeling of wonder was sweeping through his boat and it was quite conceivable for a short time, the crew forgot that they were soldiers in a weapon of war. For a time, as they passed the statues of seemingly ancient warriors, perhaps even kings with outstretch palms holding the flame that would draw ships to safe port, the crew of the Connecticut felt like explorers.

Isaiah kept thinking of the Colossus of Rhodes and the Statue of Liberty and the Connecticut sailed into what they would know later as the Bay of Eldamar, the mystery of this island seemed to be as deep as the waters the submarine was currently navigating. Isaiah had ordered a message sent to Norfolk, informing the powers that be of what was transpiring out here and as anticipated, they were just as baffled by the existence of the landmass as he had been. Although not customarily required, Norfolk had asked the Connecticut to investigate and determine the nature of their discovery.

Isaiah had an odd feeling that whatever he discovered here would not be something that naval intelligence was going to be swallow easily. This island was a mystery not only to be him but possibly to all of mankind.

Leaving the Connecticut, Isaiah felt strangely vulnerable as if he wasn't just leaving his boat, the domain he ran with supreme authority, but taking a step into a great unknown. There had been no short of volunteers to accompany him to shore however, Isaiah had opted to take his Exec and Master of Arms because they were men he trusted to keep their heads no matter what the situation. Nevertheless, the desire to leave the Connecticut was shared by most of his crew as word traveled quickly through a boat that they might have just discovered a new civilization, no matter how preposterous it may sound.

***********

"We have company," Bryan Miller stated as he stood on the edge of the tree line where forest and beach met.

He had taken a moment to himself because it was harder than he could possibly imagine, keeping himself together knowing that the only woman who ever meant anything to him was gone. He had compartmentalized his anguish, praying that it was enough. Each time the despair rose up inside him, Bryan had crushed it ruthlessly but it was becoming harder and harder to maintain that facade of indifference. He had been strong for Aaron, telling the doctor that there was hope left while Eve still lived but inside he had been screaming at the unfairness of it. Tory deserved the same hope.

Not this great emptiness that was devouring him from inside out.

"Company?" Elrohir who had been keeping close eye on the former son of Gondor immediately turned to him and strode across the wet grass to his side.

Bryan had expected Valinor to be discovered by global positioning satellites at some point but certainly not this soon. At first Bryan had been uncertain of what he had been seeing. The wind had turned the waters of the normally tranquil bay into a troubled sea with waves that seemed to smash against the shore instead of rolling languidly across the white sand. Thus the break in the water had not seemed all that unusual until the dark shadow had broke what passed for surface tension and rose out of sea in a construct of dark steel that could be non other than a product of 21st century technology.

Elrohir's statement had captured the attention of Aaron, Legolas and Ariel. The elven prince had been in the process of wrapping his wife in a thick cloak to shield her wet skin from the icy temperatures. Despite possessing an elven constitution, Ariel had no experience with weather like this. From the day she had been born, she had known only days of sunshine and warmth. Such was the blessing of the Valar upon this land. Legolas was rubbing his hand up and down her sides, trying to create the friction needed to generate warmth. Her wet clothes did not make this task any easier and he knew that if he did not take her indoors, she would take ill. As it was, he too was feeling the cold terribly but he thought little of himself and only of her.

"What company do you speak of?" He asked, looking over his shoulder as Aaron joined Bryan and Elrohir.

"Looks like the Yanks have landed," Bryan retorted, pointing to the rubber inflatable that was steadily making its way across the sea towards the shore.

"What manner of beast is that?" Elrohir asked, his keen eyes catching sight of the metal leviathan that was floating in the middle of the bay, its dark crown protruding from the turbulent sea.

"Aw hell," Aaron exclaimed as his mind grasped what Elrohir's 'beast' immediately. "Is that what I think it is?"

"I'd say so," Bryan nodded somewhat subdued. "That's a submarine."

"A what?" Elrohir looked at him in confusion.

"A ship that travels under water," Aaron responded.

"Boat," Bryan reminded gently, "you call them boats."

"Beneath the waves? Truly?" The elf stared straight ahead again; marveling at the notion of traveling across the sea completely submerged. Man had truly exploited every manner in which one could travel from place to place in his world, the elf thought. Elrohir had been astonished enough when he and his brother had returned from Arda in the 'airplane' that had crashed so spectacularly on Valinor.

Bryan left out the part that the 'beast' was also carrying a complement of nuclear warheads. There was no reason to worry the elves unnecessarily when it was most likely that the three men paddling their inflatable boat towards the surf had done so because the island had probably just turned up on their chart. If they had thought that the island was a threat, they would have sent more than three people to investigate it. No doubt, the commander of that boat was without any clue how this island had suddenly materialized out of nowhere and was trying to determine the nature of it before reporting to naval intelligence.

"What are we to do?" Legolas asked as he came up along side Bryan and stared at the unfolding situation. "Should we stop them?"

"No," Bryan shook his head, "I don't think they're here to cause trouble. I think its more likely they were doing a normal patrol of the area and suddenly caught sight of a bloody big island where there isn't supposed to be one."

"We can't let them wander loose around here," Aaron declared as the boat started surging over the tide as it closed the distance.

"No we can't," Bryan let out a deep sigh of weariness. So much relied on his judgement. The outside world was encroaching fast upon Valinor and he and Aaron were the only ones who knew how to deal with it.

"Legolas," Bryan looked at the elf. "You should take Ariel to the house, get her warmed up. She can use some of Tory's clothes, she won't..." he faltered then, the grief rushing up at him for a renewed assault even with a brief memory of her. "She won't mind." His voice grew soft and somewhere in the haze of agony where he was forcing away the sorrow he felt, Bryan was conscious of Elrohir's hand squeezing his arm.

"Thank you Bryan," Ariel said gratefully, "however I wish to remain." Inwardly, she knew Legolas wished to remain with his friends and she would not be the reason why he was forced to leave them.

"It's not safe here for you to remain here," Legolas insisted, agreeing with Bryan that she should be taken from this cold before she became ill.

"It is not safe to be alone either," Ariel countered. "Eve and I were no safer when we as such. Under the circumstances, I would prefer to remain in the company of our friends." She looked into his eyes and showed her resolve on this matter.

"Ariel..." Legolas protested but it was half hearted. He could see Aaron flinching at those words because Ariel was correct. It did not matter whether they were safely hidden away. If the enemy meant to find them, they would. On such occasions it was best to be in the company of one's friends than alone. Perhaps if Tory and Miranda had not been on the coast alone, Tory might still be amongst them. As he thought that, the elf raised his gaze to see Bryan closing his eyes in reaction to his lady's words and for an instance, it seemed as if the Man was steadying the carefully erected walls of control around his grief.

"She's right," he said quietly. "Do you think you can manage with the cold?"

"I will do my best," Ariel returned proudly, chin raised as she spoke, issuing Legolas a glance to silence any protest he might rise to this end.

"I'm sure you will," Bryan gave her a little smile but there was no joy in it, just sadness. Ariel felt her heart go to this man with his haunted eyes and wished that Eru had been kinder to him.

"They're reached the shore," Elrohir pointed out, bringing their attention to the matter at hand.

Indeed even as he spoke, Aaron turned to the usually pristine beach and saw the rubber inflatable wash up onto the sand, its occupants preparing to climb out. If there were any doubt that Valinor now found itself in the real world, it was the sight of the familiar naval uniforms worn by the three men who were presently disembarking from their tiny craft onto the shores of Eldamar. The modern world had well and truly encroached onto the sacred borders of the Undying Land and this was never clearer than the sight of the submarine that was presently waiting in the depths of the bay while its masters explored the new island.

"Well then, we'd better get to it," Bryan said releasing a heavy sigh because this was just one other task he needed to do, another little distraction he was prepared to indulge in order to stave away the anguish ready to crush him in its maw. Tory, he thought silently as he braced his inner defenses once more. Oh god Tory.

"Bryan..." Aaron started to call the man. The psychiatrist in him could see how tenuous Bryan's hold was on his emotions but there was no repertoire of tricks that Aaron knew that could help the man through this. He knew all too well what Bryan was facing and feared that if they did not reach Eve in time then he might be facing the same horror.

"I'm fine," Bryan said abruptly and started walking, waving off the query dismissively, looking at none of them.

Elrohir exchanged a worried look with his brother in law before following the Son of Gondor to deal with the newest arrivals on Valinor's once fair shores.

**********

LOCH NESS

The weather was bloody awful.

It was cold and miserable day and Janice Keely had no idea why on Earth she was out at this hour of the morning. Hugging her arms closer to her body, she wished she had worn something warmer and then remembered why she had opted for the blue cardigan when she ought to have worn the red parka that would keep the icy chill of the morning from her skin. The blue cardigan looked better on her than the bulky parka and when a sixteen-year-old was attempting to impress a boy, there was no contest between being a little cold and looking good.

Nessie watching. Who believed that nonsense? It seemed like one of those things that seemed plausible only to the tourists who came to the Loch each year to catch sight of the lake's most famous native. Janice had never bought into the existence of Nessie even though the people around the Loch had exploited the stories into a thriving tourist industry. Her parents who owned a boating business made good money from renting out small craft to would be monster catchers who came with their expensive clothes and high powered photography equipment, hoping to catch sight of Nessie.

Fortunately, the old girl had proved too smart for the likes of them.

"You do this every day?" Janice asked of Doug Palmer, the young lad she had been trying so hard to impress by coming out with him here today. She had never expected to him to have this kind of interest when he was the most popular soccer player in school. He was certain to play for the big clubs like Manchester United, if the descriptions of his game were the truth and not hyperbole spoken to stroke his ego. Janice had spoken to him once or twice in the halls and when she learnt that he made morning forays out here before school day began, saw an opportunity to get to know him better.

"Yeah," he nodded, looking at the strawberry blonde and wondering what she was doing out here in this weather with such ridiculous clothes. She'd catch her death of cold if she didn't watch out, he thought. "I think its peaceful out here and who knows maybe I'll catch sight of her."

"Do you really think she's there?" Janice asked, walking alongside of him as he kept his vigil with his camera in his favorite spot.

In truth, Doug Palmer told people he was monster watching so he'd be left alone. Most people thought it to be such an odd pastime that they did not wish to have any part of it and Doug was afforded some much needed quiet time that did not involve his school mates, his soccer team or his six brothers and sisters at home. His life was one constant lot of noise after another and being out here gave him a much needed silence.

At least until today.

"I think so," he responded and surprised himself by actually meaning it. Yes, she was here somewhere. Whether or not anyone had actually seen her was debatable but Nessie was here. Doug could feel it.

"What do you think she is then?" The girl asked again. "Do you think its like those scientist say? That she's a dinosaur?"

"A plesiosaur I think you're talking about," he returned, watching the rippling water, thinking how peaceful and tranquil it looked under the morning sun. "Maybe," he said after a moment. "They say there's caves underneath the loch that may have pockets of air where a beastie like that might be. Who knows."

Suddenly, something caught his attention. It was little more than an indescribable splash of water but it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end for some peculiar reason. Maybe because it was such an unfamiliar sound for this hour of the morning. Out of place almost. He was used to gentle sounds produced at this time of the day, swirling ripples of water like a babbling brook with not much to say. It was certainly different from the harsh splash of something he could not identify.

He stood up from where he had been bent over at the edge of the water, with camera in hand and looked into the lake, trying see where it had come from.

"What is it?" The girl interrupted.

"I don't know," he said straightening up, his back taut with tension as he caught sight of it. Something was moving and at first he thought it was a fish swimming too close to the surface but made up his mind quickly that it wasn't, it moved too oddly. An eel perhaps? Doug watched for a moment, trying to make out its shape through the murky water.

"Maybe you should step away from the edge," Janice said starting to get anxious. Nessie wasn't real she told herself but she couldn't deny the stories were getting to her.

"What do you think is going to happen?" He looked at her derisively. "Nessie's going to come get me?"

Something smashed out of the water with lightening quick reflexes, wrapping itself around his leg in one fluid movement. Doug had just enough time to register the cold, wet around his ankle before he was swept off his feet. Hoisted above the ground, he let out a short cry of fear as he saw the ground beneath him and air around his flaying arms. The girl Janice had started to scream, her eyes wide with terror.

He blinked once or twice, looked at the thing around his foot and saw that it was a tentacle, a tentacle that followed all the way down to a creature starting to surface in the dark water. He saw its slimy body, slick and gleaming with moisture, like black marble. There were other limbs snaking towards the edge and he saw Janice starting to retreat, screaming as she tried to put distance between herself and the beast that was inching its way towards the edge. She didn't get very far when he saw another tentacle snap forward like elastic, moving impossibly fast to wrap itself around her waist.

Janice's screams echoed throughout the loch, causing birds to break roost from their branches and take flight. Absurdly as he screamed his own terror, he could hear beating wings in his ears and thought that they were of some comfort. Dangling above the air, he tried desperately to reach the appendage that held on to his foot in a vise like grip. The thing began to shake them, perhaps sensing the attempts to escape. Doug felt his bones snapping like he was tied to a whip.

Then he saw the teeth and all sense left him.

Widening jaws opened, teeth as long as his arm waited for their feast and while he became numb with terror, Janice screams had become mindless shrieks of terror. Perhaps irritated by the noise, Doug watched as Janice was released and she fell screaming wildly into the maw of the beast. There was another blood curdling cry when those jaws snapped close, ejecting blood and flesh in all directions before Janice uttered no more sound.

What remained of his sanity lingered long enough for Doug Palmer who would have turned eighteen next month, to realize that he would never play for Manchester United.

SOMEWHERE....

"It is beginning," the younger said to the Old One.

"I can see that," he said stroking his thick silver beard, looking at the youth with so much impatience. "They have heard him call. They will be waking up wherever they are to join with him."

"We should go now," the younger repeated, hand stroking the smooth finish of the machine he had help to construct.

It was a thing of beauty, crafted from the finest metal that was known to exist. Even in the dim light of the cavern, it gleamed, created its own illumination and the younger smiled with pleasure knowing that at last, the time had come for both of them to see the sunlight. "It will take us days to burrow to the surface and too many of the devices had yet to be tested."

"You sound like one of THEM," the Old One pointed out.

"We have learnt much from them," the younger replied, not all sorry for this. "Perhaps it is time that they learnt something from us."

The Old One looked at him skeptically.

"Well it could not hurt," the younger snorted. "They've made a proper mess of things up there and that they're still alive is a miracle. Perhaps if they had learnt what we had to teach them, things wouldn't have turned out the way it has."

"It was the decision of the Elders that we took the course we did," the Old One stared at him. "Do you refute their wisdom?"

Not ready to re-ignite that particular debate, the younger conceded defeat for now, "no I do not but I still think we should be on our way. They will need our help. They have no idea what's coming at them."

"We will wait for just a little longer," the Old One replied, aware that this would cause more consternation for the younger and smiled in bemusement at the outburst to come.

"I give up," the younger groaned. "If you need me, you know where to find me."

With that he trudged up the ramp and disappeared into the belly of his creation, there to wait until permission was given.

The Old One watched as the younger drew away grumbling and sighed. The children of Durin's line were always so impatient.

Part Six
Letting the Dice Fly

The flotilla of ships crossed the vast ocean swiftly, propelled across the waves by an unholy wind.

Sauron, once Lord of Mordor, now David Saeran of Malcolm Industries stood at the bow of the grey ship he had claimed for himself and watched the distance between himself and land close in with each passing moment. Even though there was nothing but sea in the horizon, Saeran could see the shore that he would be soon stepping upon. He could see it like the minions that were awakening throughout the world, waiting to rally to his side in one last battle. It did not matter to Saeran the outcome of this conflict. It was a strange thing to admit but it was the truth, as much as he was capable of experiencing the emotion.

This was about showing everyone who he was.

Not the pathetic servant of Aule, not the dark enforcer of Melkor's will or the Ring lord who put all his faith in a trinket of gold but rather himself to the core, stripped of all titles. Sauron who had lifted himself to become more than just another Maiar spirit, that despite his defeats had left an impression that not even the Valar would be able to dismiss. He was always better than them even if fate had made him weaker. However, his lack of power had never been an obstacle. He had got this far on wit alone and before the end, whether it be for himself or the enemy, they would know it.

They would know that will and intelligence could push even a spirit to become greater than a god.

The dragons were still aloft above the flotilla although Sauron could feel their impatience at having to remain tethered to their seagoing brothers. They longed to surge ahead and reach land, to see Arda once again and feast on the sweetness of human meat once again. With their keen senses, they could smell the banquet awaiting them once they reached land and only his command over them kept this basic appetite from overcoming their actions entirely. The watchers were the same, some had scattered into the vast ocean but most were remaining close. There was far too much temptation in the water for them to remain restrained. Already, whales and dolphins had made for tasty bounty.

There was much to do once they reached the shores of the Angel Isle, Saeran thought as he saw the waves rushing past the vessel. His new power had far reaching consequences in that it could be felt spreading it ugly tendrils throughout the shadow world, giving life to creatures that had become inert from years of his absence. His army was stirring across the globe. Beyond the watchers that were accompanying the grey ships to Arda, there were those who had remained for so long in the dark places of the world, waiting for the right time to emerge. With his coming, they were awakening at last to brave the light once more. As he looked skyward, he saw the Urloki giving in to their urges at long last. They surged on ahead, eager for the taste of new riches to hoard like bower birds with shiny toys.

By the time he reached his destination, the Nine would also have been restored with power in a way they had not been since the War of the Ring. He would send them out, leading armies of newly birthed Uruks and the all the fell beasts that still that would answer his dark call. This time there was no ring to bring about his downfall and those who sought to destroy him would have to do it face to face. This time, he would be no disembodied eye relying on others to do his fighting. If the enemy wanted to destroy him they would have to contend with him alone. He knew that Aaron Stone would be coming. Isildur’s reincarnated heir would cross a thousand oceans to reach his woman and when he was within sight of her, Saeran would show him how much she no longer belonged to him.

Revenge could be such a sweet morsel.

********

This had to be hell or at least by Eve McCaughley’s definition, her version of it.

Trapped on the ship, her guards watched her cautiously and it was all Eve could do to keep from screaming. Fat, plump bodies rested on the wooden floors of the cabin she had been locked in. Poised on arachnid legs with mandibles clenching like fists as their compound eyes continued ensured that their master’s prize did not give him any cause for trouble. Eve had never liked spiders. In fact if asked, she would have readily admitted she suffered from a rather annoying case of arachnophobia. Therefore, being forced to share a cabin with versions of the foul insect that were the size of large dogs, was enough to threaten her sanity. With her back to the wall on the bed she was sitting on, Eve stared at them with wide eyed terror and yet her fear was such that it wouldn’t let her take her eyes away from them even for a second.

She had no weapon, nothing to fight with if they chose to attack and their mandibles wet with ooze, seemed watering for a taste of flesh, held back only by their masters’ orders. She was shaking so badly that she was almost starting to fear what effect this would have on her baby and the thought of her child made her want to weep a new. She had woken up to these nightmares and had screamed herself hoarse for anyone to come to her aid. Throughout her life, Eve had prided herself in her ability to maintain her calm no matter what the situation. She had been a New York City cop and after stumbling onto John Malcolm and the world that had given birth to him, Eve had thought she had seen everything.

At this moment, she would have been grateful if Saeran had made an appearance.

The things did not move as they continued their surveillance. They just watched with their blood red eyes, thinking indifferent thoughts that Eve could not even begin to fathom but was certain had something to do with devouring her. She remembered how terrified she had been when they had been under the earth in Romania, surrounded by a horde of these things but that was nothing in comparison to the mind numbing fear she now felt. It was torture without ever marking the skin. She sat on the bed, hugging her knees under her chin, not daring to close her eyes.

In this state, Eve remained trapped very effectively within her prison, able to see through the portal of the cabin and knowing that Valinor was no longer in horizon. The ship was making good time, she could tell by the winds outside and the undulating motion of the deck above the waves. She thought about Aaron and the others. She thought of Saeran’s claim that he had killed one of them already. Who? Whose life had he taken? It could not be Aaron’s. Saeran would not have been able to contain his pride if that were the case. The question haunted Eve on the rare moments she could forget she was sharing a cabin with two great spiders.

Suddenly the door swung open and Eve, already anxious and afraid, felt herself jump. David Saeran stepped in, a little smile formed on his face after he surveyed the situation. His eyes narrowed in calculation as he realized the paleness of her skin was not due to her captivity but to her jailors. It surprised the Lord of Mordor in that he who had always used fear to such extremes had managed to reduce this woman to near hysteria without even intending to do so.

"Leave." He said simply.

That was all that was needed, an order from him and she saw them lift up those, sickeningly plump bodies and shuffled through the open door. The hard points of their legs, scraping against the wood caused another shudder to run through her body. When they left the room, Eve allowed herself a loud gasp, expelling the tension and cold fear she had been forced to endure the last few hours since waking up and finding those things in front of her.

A hand touched her hair and she looked up at him, surprised. Saeran was standing over her, a gentle palm brushing the dark strands of her hair, his expression was unreadable as he looked at her. "I’m sorry, I did not know." There was almost tenderness in his voice.

"Know what?" she snatched herself out of his reach by shrinking away.

"They’re good guards," he indicated the spiders that had departed. "I had no idea that you feared them so much."

"What do you care?" She said hoarsely, off balanced by this show of concern.

"You are so beautiful," he looked at her, soaked in her features, so much like Thingol’s daughter who had sung her song to her human lover. The whole of Tol Sirion had been lost in that voice. He had been no different. Saeran knew that when he took Eve from Valinor, it was not merely for his vengeance against Aaron Stone but because deep in the core of him, exacerbated by the human shell he was forced to wear, was a need for her he had not recognized until he saw her face the first time. He failed in his opportunity to capture Luthien so long ago. It was not a mistake he intended to repeat again.

"What do you want from me?" She said through gritted teeth, her hatred for him burning like the heat of a thousand suns.

"I do not know," Saeran answered and surprised himself by the honesty of that mission. "You look so much like her." He confessed.

"I'm not Luthien," Eve declared, "I'm not even Arwen. You see resonance of what was, this, me, is who I am. I can never be either of them."

"Perhaps not," he replied, closing his eyes for a moment and remembering that vision of perfection that had stood before the Tol Sirion and sang her song. Its beauty had touched the heart of even one as such as he and in the place where even dark lords dreamed, he still heard her voice. "But it amuses me that you are mine because it means he will not have you."

"I will never be yours!" Eve shouted angrily. "I'd sooner die first."

"Oh that is an inevitability for certain," he looked at her coldly, his ire raised because her declaration had dissipated the vision in his mind of her earlier self. "However, how you chose to walk out of this life is entirely up to you. Do not doubt me when I say I could make those years stretch into an eternity. What you experienced in the last few hours will be pale in comparison."

Eve felt silent and knew that she was beaten.

"What about my baby?" She dared to ask.

"I do not know," Saeran stood up but it was a lie. He did know. He knew perfectly well what purpose that babe would have. Life slumbering in the womb, weak and helpless. It was a boy. He knew it even if she did not. A son, a child of Isildur's line. The possibilities for vengeance were too delicious to ignore. "However," he leaned forward so she understood this clearly, "if you run from me. If you attempt to harm yourself, the minute he slides out of your body, wet and bloody, I will feed him to your jailers. Do we understand each other?"

The horror of it was beyond Eve, she doubled over and retched. Digestive fluids escaped her onto the wooden floor, acid burning her throat as she heaved. "You...wouldn't..." she gasped as she gagged. "You couldn't..."

"I have done far worse things in my time my dear than make a meal of an infant, this course I take I sense has been destined for me. I know it," he said looking at her dispassionately. "Fortunately, I know there is no hell waiting for me and even if there were, I would have been the one to breathe life into it. Don't assume anything. I may wear a human shell but I carry none of its weaknesses. I need nothing from you. However," he said glancing at the door, "I trust you will behave yourself while you’re on board?"

"Do I have a choice?" She bit back. "You've threatened my child."

A surge of anger filled him because it was more than obedience that he wanted from her. Unfortunately, the feeling was so new and alien that it stung and he reacted in kind.

Staring at her, he said nothing at first and Eve was about to question what he was doing when suddenly she felt something tickling against her skin. She looked down and saw spider crawling up her arm. She let out a startled cry and then saw more on her shirt, on the bed, in her hair. She could feel spindly legs crawling against her scalp, mandibles biting at her flesh, their cold bodies skittering across her skin. Eve let out another horrified scream, practically falling off the bed in an effort to rid herself off the accursed things. Legs scratching against her lips, crawling over her brow, nesting in her dark hair, the sensation almost made her gag.

Eve fell on the ground screaming, clawing at her skin, too afraid to scream in case the foul thing crept into her open mouth when suddenly, just as suddenly as they appeared, the tiny arachnids disappeared again. She stopped struggling with a start, shaking still as the memory remained fresh in her mind. She looked around her with wide-eyed terror and saw none of the things. She and Saeran were the only living creatures in the room.

"I know what frightens you my dear," Saeran said leaning over and offering Eve his hand. "I don’t need guards or threats to ensure you will obey. Make any attempt to leave and you will spend every waking moment of your life with what you just saw."

"Go to hell," Eve spat but she was defeated and she knew it. He was right. He did know what frightened her and as he had just proved, he was not above using it.

"Not before you go there a thousand times first," he said with a little smile. "Now," he looked at her. "I’m going out onto the deck. You will join me."

Eve wanted to refuse but she had no choice, she was trapped and at the very least, he would drive her insane if she did not obey. At the worst, he would make good on his threat and harm her baby. Either way it was no choice at all.

Swallowing thickly the lump in her throat, Eve replied, each word leaving her lips bitterly.

"Yes," she nodded. "I will join you."

********

There was a white rabbit at the end of all this, Isaiah was certain.

However, Alice's little nirvana was not quite so dismal. Howling winds whipped at their exposed faces despite fruitless attempt to shield themselves with upturned collars. The wind brought with it spitting rain that felt like needles against the skin. Standing on a long stretch of beach that Isaiah was certain would have been pristine in better weather; he saw angry waves charging furiously up the shore before the surf held the line back again. Looking over his shoulder, Isaiah was comforted by the sight of the Connecticut waiting patiently in the deep bay while they continued their exploration of the New World.

They had chosen their landing site near what appeared to be settlements and even from this beach, he could see buildings as well as ramps for boats leading into the water. The number of well-worn grooves pooling with water indicated that quite a bit of shipbuilding took place on this island. However, the design of these buildings was like nothing Isaiah could even begin to recognize. A career navy man, he had traveled across the globe and not once had he seen anything comparable to the artistic beauty of this land's architecture. It reminded him of something built by the ancients; something that would remain beautiful and remembered, long after the race that built it disappeared into the mists.

"Fuck me Captain," Purcelli whistled at the sight of the structures. "Where the hell are we?"

"I don't know," Isaiah replied and started walking towards the coastal settlements. "Come on Purcelli, there's only one way to find out."

"Sir," his master at arms, Lt. Turpin called out, "look!"

Following Turpin's gaze and the hand pointing them from the beach into the landscape beyond the shore, Isaiah saw a group of people approaching. He noticed long hair swaying in the wind and surmised from what little he could see at that distance that there were both men and women in the company approaching them. Purcelli and Turpin reached for their sidearm, their shoulders squaring off as if preparing for an attack as it was the way with military men.

"At ease," Isaiah ordered. Their stance was making the rest of the landing party nervous and the last thing the captain of the Connecticut wanted was a firefight.

"Captain, we don't know anything about them," Purcelli insisted. "They could be hostile."

"What are you on fucking Star Trek?" Isaiah barked, "I said stand down." He shot his first officer a look that told Purcelli that the next time he had to repeat himself, the First Mate of the Connecticut would find himself brigged and shot.

If he was in a good mood.

Properly chastised, Purcelli retreated first and Turpin was smart enough to obey before the Captain took a bite out of his ass too.

"Look," Isaiah said quickly, "there's something about this place that's not quite kosher. Trust an ol' sea dog on this when I say that I don't think the conventional approach is going to work out here. The first impression these people have of us should be of the US Navy waving guns in their faces on their own soil."

In truth, Isaiah did not have to explain one damn thing to any of the landing party but these men had served with him long enough to deserve one. Purcelli in particular. Isaiah met the First Officer's gaze, offering him a conciliatory look, which Purcelli took with a slight nod of acknowledgement. Holstering his weapon, he waited for his Captain's lead.

Isaiah started across the beach, his men following him automatically without his needing to give further instructions. He made his way across the sandy shore, intending to meet the people approaching and hopefully getting some answers as to how in the hell this island had suddenly just appeared. However, as he approached them, the lack of definition caused by rain and wind dissipated enough to allow him a clear look at them. The group was made up on men and only one woman he realised and while two of the men appeared to be perfectly normal specimens of the twentieth century, the same could not be said for their companions.

It was like something out of a fairy tale and even as the thought raced across his mind, Isaiah flinched at how ludicrous it sounded. However, there was no other description that would fit. Dressed in clothes that seemed almost medieval, they seemed as if they had stepped more than just out of another time but possibly an entirely different world from the one he knew. There was nothing hard or coarse about them, no awkwardness or evidence of struggle that had carried man through most of their history. They seemed almost graceful and yet masculine nonetheless. These were men but not by any definition Isaiah had ever known. And the woman...

Even with hair plastered to her pale skin, her dress clinging to her body in saturated sheets, she was beautiful in a way that transcended all modern descriptions of the word. It was like seeing a rose covered in morning dew. Something inside him shifted slightly, mesmerized by these beings, almost luminescent in their beauty even when surrounded by grey and troubled weather.

For a moment he thought he saw something in the manner, something that immediately made him balk at the absurdity of it all. Yet it still remained in memory nonetheless.

The memory of starlight.

************

The Yanks were getting nervous. This much Bryan could tell as he approached. The Captain was studying Legolas and the twins with close scrutiny, no doubt noticing the same difference that both Aaron and himself had noticed the first time they had encountered the elves. Bryan tried to think of what to say to the man, how to explain that suddenly, there was an island in the middle of the ocean that no one had ever seen before. How did that make sense to a mariner who's probably traveled these shores all his life?

"Be careful," Bryan said to Aaron and the others as they neared the strangers. "These are soldiers and they're probably blood nervous as it is."

"Nervous?" Ariel looked at Boromir's reincarnation. "We are no threat to them."

"They don't know that," Aaron explained to Legolas' wife who had no experience with the men of the modern world save the ones who had come to the shores of Valinor in recent years. "If I had to venture a guess, they're probably a little confused on how this island suddenly appeared on their scopes."

"Their what?" Elrohir looked at his brother-in-law with a raised brow.

"Nevermind," Aaron said dismissive, knowing it would take a long to explain even if he understood the first thing about submarine sonar.

"Shut it!" Bryan hissed as they got closer. Bryan was armed but he had no wish to have their conversation end up in a gunfight, now when the best chance of going after Saeran was to hitch a ride in their submarine.

"You turn a lovely phrase Bryan," Legolas remarked dryly.

Bryan threw him a look and held his hands up at chest level in a gesture of good faith that he did not intend harm. "Good day lads," Bryan said casually.

Aaron allowed Bryan do the talking as the man knew soldiers better than a New York psychiatrist ever could and at this stage, he was willing to submit to anything that permitted them to go after Eve and rescue her from Saeran's clutches. If they needed these men to do it then Aaron was more than willing to crawl on his belly to ensure that they had every reason to provide assistance. He could understand why Bryan was eager to handle the discourse between the two groups. The elves had been through enough today and even the patience of immortals could be tested after the mischief that had been unleashed on Valinor since Saeran's escape, to say nothing of what Eve was probably enduring in Saeran's clutches. If Bryan's efforts to diffuse the situation help matters along than Aaron was eager to assist in any way he could.

"Hello," the submarine captain greeted in response, a clearly suspicious look on his face as he regarded them. "Who are you people and where is this place?" He demanded, wasting no time in revealing what was on his mind.

Bryan was certain by his taut delivery that the question of identity was directed primarily at the elves but he was nevertheless eager to side step the issues of elves and Middle earth for the moment.

"This is Valinor," Bryan answered, aware that the name would make little sense to the American. "The home of these people," he regarded Legolas and the other elves.

"What?" One of navy men exclaimed. "Valinor? What the fuck does that mean?"

Bryan saw Elrohir's back straightening in annoyance. The elf had been in the modern world long enough to recognise the discourtesy of using that particular word especially in front of Ariel.

"Lt. Turpin shut up," the captain growled. "I apologise for his conduct," the man said quickly, before the offence was allowed to escalate into something worse. "However, you have to understand that we're in something of a state of shock."

"As I," Legolas muttered under his breath as he stared at the leader of the new arrivals. He almost smiled but held it under an expression of bemusement. Eru did enjoy his little jokes, the former Prince of Mirkwood thought as he looked at a face he had beheld long ago in Arda. The face of a great lord, a prince among men and finally and most importantly, an old friend who had returned to him as Aragorn and Boromir had been restored.

The Prince of Dol Amroth. Father in law to Eomer and uncle to the sons of Denethor.

Imrahil.

"I understand," Bryan said sympathetically. "There's a lot to explain and some you will have trouble believing."

"This island shouldn't be here," the captain declared firmly, as if this fact was something vital he clung to, that held together the flimsy walls of reality. Bryan could see it in his eyes, the realisation that he entered something that could not be explained, despite the evidence of it before their eyes. It was not just the captain but the others with him, edging towards belief, clinging towards the security of facts and geography.

"But it is still here," Ariel spoke up, stepping forward, beyond the reach of her husband's arm around her shoulder.

"Ariel," Legolas spoke but she silenced with a gesture of her hand and a smile.

Men could be such boars as times, she shook her head. What was needed here was a woman's touch.

"Our home exists," she said with a smile, using the language of Arda spoken by Eve and the other humans who now lived in Valinor.

Isaiah could only stare as she stepped forward. Even with her hair plastered across her white skin, her dressed clinging to her form in sheets of wet fabric, she was compelling. He suspected that the natural urges of men locked away in a boat for long periods of time, without the benefit of female companionship had much to do with their strong reaction. From Purcelli to his master at arms, they gaped at her like schoolboys, enamoured by the sway of dark wet locks, brushing against almost flawlessly pale skin. Isaiah tried to shake off the reaction but it was impossible not to become lost in those clear blue eyes, so filled with warm invitation and friendship. Isaiah who was far too old to be swayed by any pretty face, found himself feeling lightheaded just looking at her. The rest of his men were having the same reaction to the woman who seemed almost luminous in comparison to them.

"I'm sure it does," Isaiah swallowed, trying not to fall prey to the limpid pools of her eyes. "However, it doesn't explain how this island managed to just suddenly appear." He looked past her shoulder at the tall blond man who had greeted them. "

"We have always been here," she said smiling. "You simply lacked the light to find your way here, until now."

"Who are you madam?" Isaiah asked, almost bowing. There was something reverential about her. Something not quite real. "How have you come to be here."

"Like this island, I have always been here," Ariel smiled. "I am Ariel, daughter of Endemore and Miriel. Would you be so kind as to tell me your name?"

Isaiah swallowed thickly and answered, "certainly, " he offered her a gallant smile. "I'm Captain Isaiah Hill of the USS Connecticut," he introduce himself and then proceeded to do the same of his crewmen before he faced her again.

Bryan hid his surprise at Ariel's manner in handling the new arrivals. Glancing at Legolas, the former M16 man saw the elf caught between a mixture of amazement and annoyance at the attentive stares his wife was receiving from the navy men. Whether or not elven women knew the effect they had on humans, Bryan was uncertain. He knew that when he first arrived on Valinor to be confronted by the beauty of Celebrian and Galadriel, Bryan had felt like a teenager. Though he would never admit it, being Galadriel's presence still left him somewhat overwhelmed. Like he used to be with his fourth year chemistry teacher, Miss Atkins with her long blond hair and too short skirts. Nevertheless, the siren-like quality Ariel was exuding towards the men was smoothing the way and Bryan was rather grateful for it. Honestly, he was holding back too much inside too be caught in an exhausting process of trying to convince these men of where they were and the unreality they had just stepped into by arriving on these shores.

For Legolas, it was the first time he had ever seen Ariel so assertive and the emotion he had always hidden from her, or so he thought, of being a little disappointed at how unlike Melia she was, surfaced involuntary. For one hundred thousand years, Ariel had been his constant companion in Valinor. Yet, not once in those years did she exhibit any real trace of the woman Legolas had given his heart too back in Middle Earth, the only person he had considered dying for because living without her had been unimaginable. Yet he knew Ariel carried Melia's soul inside her, Legolas could feel it. The eternal bond between them could not be recreated and when Legolas had met Ariel, he had recognised it instantly.

However, as much as he loved Ariel, he wondered how much of it had been in reaction to that previous bond. He loved Melia's soul but since they had found Ariel, drenched and frightened in the wake of Sauron's attack, he was starting to see that he barely knew his wife. How was it possible to love someone without knowing the first thing about her? There was a strength to Ariel that he was only now seeing and Legolas felt a deep sense of shame at realising that he had bothered to seek it out before this.

"Please," Ariel continued to speak after making introductions of her company to the new folk, "our lands are in peril. We need your assistance."

"Peril?" Isaiah looked up. Who talked like this and as soon as he thought it, it stabbed his consciousness that this was just another piece of the puzzle at how bizarre this situation was.

"Ariel," Bryan spoke up, not certain he wanted to spring balrogs and dragons on these men. They had not even been confronted with the fact that they were conversing with elves. Mythological monsters and a dark lord threatening the world with Armageddon were going to take some easing into. "I don't know whether that's such a good idea."

"Sauron will soon be arriving at their shores will he not?" She asked in challenge. "If they do not know now, they will certainly understand when he arrives at their shores with his fell host. Can we not save the time and showing them what it is they face when he arrives?"

"Who?" Isaiah demanded, trying to make sense of what was seeing and feeling like he had walked in on the second act of a play in Swahili.

"My wife is right," Legolas spoke up and stepped forward to take his place next to her, "Bryan, they should know. If we are to acquire their assistance to find Eve then they have a right to know." He offered Ariel a little smile of encouragement, as well as brushing his fingers gently across her shoulder in a gesture of intimacy the others would not mistake.

"Captain," Aaron finally found his voice. "We need your help but we need to show you exactly where you are. If we tell you, you're not going to believe us. You really need to see it for yourself."

"Both of our homes are in danger," Ariel added, looking at Isaiah. "And we do not have a great deal of time." Ariel thought of Eve and the infant inside her and shuddered inwardly. They have very little time indeed.

All this bordered on the fantastical but as well as being a mariner, Captain Isaiah Hill was also a soldier and the oath he took to protect his country took precedence over all other considerations. The woman spoke of danger, danger not only to her home but to his. He thought of what had attacked his boat, a biologic that was capable of doing 35 knots, matching the speed of a nuclear submarine, upon which they had to fire a torpedo to stop. He and his crew had not simply imagined that and if it was related to the sudden appearance of this island, Isaiah needed to find out the full scope of the danger she spoke of.

"Alright," he glanced at his men and he saw Purcelli and the others showing their agreement with his decision. Not that he needed it really but still it was good to know that they were behind him.

"Show us but one thing first," he met Bryan's eyes directly.

"Go ahead," Bryan answered wondering what was on the man's mind.

"What's with their ears?"

************

Their power had almost withered to nothing.

Since the leader of their number had been destroyed and their master taken beyond their reach. They lingered like wraiths, diminishing faster like smoke in the wind. For the first time in too long, they felt real fear. The fears of the evil are dark insidious things, swirling around their consciousness like vile ooze, viscous and cold. Forced to remain in the darkness below the world, they waited for the end to come, quaking in terror at the arrival of the thing that they had alluded for as long as they knew. Even when their flesh had been the stuff of mortals, they had tried to outrun the monster but Eru wrote himself their doom himself. It could not be denied. They had sold their allegiances and ultimately their souls to escape it. When the last jewel of the Silmarils had passed from the world of men to the forbidden realm of the Valar, they knew that they would elude it no longer.

Beneath the earth of the lands once ruled by their stolen master, the Nazgul had awaited for death to come.

"Are we done then?" Adunaphel asked in the darkness below.

"We are done," answered the one who in the old days was known to all as Khamul the Easterling. "Without His power we diminish. Soon we will return to the shadow world."

"Forever," Indur's voice hissed. "We failed him."

And himself as well, the Nazgul thought sullenly. He had dreamed one day to reclaim the former seat of his power, Mumakan, to ride the war oliphants to victory, trampling underfoot all their enemies. Enemies, like weakling Eldar who fled Arda like cowards and the humans who had driven his beloved mumakils into extinction with their cursed domination of the world. So many wondrous dreams dashed because of their terrible failure.

A general murmur of agreement rippled through the black, little more than a slight shift of ill wind. They had failed to recover the jewel housing the light of the great trees and in their failure had doomed not only themselves but their great lord, now a lowly prisoner of the Valar. The hated, cursed Valar who sat in their ivory towers, caring little about the world and yet presuming to rule over it by sending out their Eldar pets, like flies bloated with blood to feed on a rotting carcass.

Beneath the lands of what was once Mordor, they sat in dominion over the freshly birthed Uruks who were turning on each other like ravenous dogs now that they were bereft of any real purpose. All of them filled with rage, their promise unfulfilled as they continued to harness a growing malignancy of berserker fury that would consume them whole if not unleashed. So many grate plans had come to ruin when their lord had been taken. The foul humans who had stolen him had left so many dead and if the Nazgul were able to feast on hatred alone, then they would have been restored to their former glory.

For Andunaphel who had once been commanded by his lord to make sturdy the fortifications of Dol Guldur, it stung particularly deep because an army waited for his instruction. The rage and power of these Uruks were a forced to be reckoned with but robbed of any guidance or leadership, they would never be anything more than a violent rabble. Andunaphel had waited for years for this master's whore to breed the Uruk so that he could mould them for the Dark One's use. Now like all else, that hoped had diminished into nothingness.

The eight wandered through the catacombs. Disaffected and without purpose. Lingering in the mortal plane because without their master, their journey to limbo was nearly complete. Not quite death and not quite living became more intolerable when one had no substance to change anything about them. Their presence still gave the Uruks fear and to some degree the eight were able to command their rabid arm beneath the surface of Arda. Like their wraith masters, the Uruks could sense doom though they had not presence of mind to truly comprehend it.

"What now?" Akhorahil asked.

"We diminish," Khamul spoke, his unearthly voice little more than a hiss. "We fade forever into shadow and do not return from it as Morgul was diminished."

"He was not diminished!" Ren, another of his brothers spat. "The human waste that was Denethor's youngest son killed him!"

"The Silmarils killed him," Khamul corrected, unable to abide that the strongest of them had been taken by the weakling child of a lowly steward, not even the captain of Gondor.

"What does it matter?" The horse man lamented. "He is dead. First at the hands of the Shield Bitch and then by her weaker consort."

"You will not speak of Morgul in that manner!" Khamul bellowed. There was little power left to him but he would not see Morgul besmirched by one of their own.

"What manner?" Uvath the Horseman, formerly of the Variags and once Sauron's hand in the city of Minas Ithil, barked back defiantly. "It is the truth."

"I will have your tongue!" Khamul shouted again.

"Good luck if you can find it," Uvath snorted in derision, "or your own for that matter."

Uvath's hope was a well run dry. After languishing in these confines for so long, the Nazgul longed for the freedom of riding unfettered through the night, feeling the wind rushing past him as he thundered forward in perfect unison with the beast beneath him. He had not been in Sauron's command so long that he forgot that particular pleasure. Even when they had been restored to the world of men, Uvath had been thoroughly disappointed to learn that the symbiosis between horse and rider had been discarded as a pastime of the privileged. The cold mechanical beasts that men used for their travels did little to inspire him despite its advantageous in speed.

Khamul snorted in disgust at Uvath's weakness. His brother had always been more interested in hedonistic pleasures instead of serving their master's will. It did not surprise the lieutenant that in their master's absence Uvath had finally revealed it to them all. "You are pitiful," he hissed snidely.

"We are all pitiful," Uvath retaliated, almost shrugging to some degree. "Without our master we are nothing and yet we continue to linger here like frightened children because we are fearful of venturing out in our diminished state, as if any of them up there could harm us."

"That is the same reasoning that saw Morgul killed," Hoarmurath snorted in equal derision. "Complacency makes us all weak and unguarded. We should never underestimate the Edain, male or female, big or small. They have outlasted all the mortal races, the dwarves, the periannath, the orcs, the trolls, ourselves even. Such endurance should be viewed with caution."

"We will never fight them again," Indur lamented. "We will diminish into the shadows and that will be the end of us."

"Will you cease your portents of disaster!" Khamul shouted and suddenly, it felt as if a swell was rising in him, a surge of power that surged quickly through his wraithlike form and had to be expended. Indur flew across the room, slamming into the wall. Khamul was about to react to the sudden burst of energy when his entire body was suffused with pain. Throwing his head back, he uttered a scream through his unseen lips. However, if it was help he wanted, then none was forthcoming because the rest of his brothers were screaming in similar agony.

Throughout the cavern, the Uruks hearing the blood chilling screams of Sauron's Nazgul froze in fear. The banshee wails that echoed from the deepest corners through the largest cavernous, made all who heard it cringe and then cover their ears. There were more than screams in the air but rather the dreadful shriek of pain as if the fabric of hell itself had been torn asunder. Many joined the terrible sound by adding their own voices, bellowing into the darkness in solidarity for whatever horrors being visited upon their Nazgul masters. For them, they had known no other teachers than the wraiths who had guided them since their emergence, feeding their hatred of man with magnificence tales of the dark lord Sauron.

Power.

Power was filtering through them.

Khamal could feel it coming to life within the dark ooze of blood inside his long dead body, transmuted by the shadow realm to allow nothing to escape it, even light. For a moment, he could not understand how this could be. Their master was beyond their reach. He was a prisoner of the Valar, his great powers confined within the ruined flesh of his mortal shell. They had struggled to reach him for months and had been able to sense nothing of him. Yet the power that filled them now was familiar, infusing them with power they had not known since Sauron had been at his strongest.

As the Nazgul screamed and suffered, in the middle of the cavern floor, a dark piece of fabric, little more than a blob of sheet materialized on the ground and began to rise. Slowly and surely, air beneath it seemed to swell and it started to grow almost like some dark seedling infused with life. The fabric seemed to increase in volume as it rose higher from the floor. Suddenly, the blob became sheets that hung loosely, like draperies swaying in the breeze. The shape beneath became more pronounced as the material pressed against it in its movement, the shape of a leg, the bow of joint, until shoulders rolled into view. Lifting up, the head raised and the man stood in the center of his brother's cloaked, his face hidden beneath the hood, radiating two pinpricks of crimson light where his eyes should have been.

Alive.

Morgul was alive.

Cast into limbo at the hands of a human, he had languished in despair. Alone and fearful that he would never know again the companionship of his brothers or glory in the power of his master's presence. His hate kept him alive, reminded him that he could not allow his consciousness to dissipate into non-existence. He would have his vengeance, not only on the Shield Bitch but her weak husband, who had burned the flesh from his bones and scattered his soul into limbo using the light of the great trees. They would surely pay and Morgul refused to die until that day came.

Still his faith had been eroded and just when he thought that it would never come, that he would be trapped in this realm forever, Morgul found himself facing the great eye, breathed in flame, powerful and magnificent all at the same time. The eye stared at him, it became his world, his sun, his life as it has been since the day he had slipped on the ring that would place him in Sauron's service for all time.

It is time, Morgul.

Master...it is you? Is it really you? He had asked of the great eye.

It is I, Morgul. Sauron. I cannot have you languish here my servant. I need you in the world of Arda.

I have been slain by the light of the great trees.

You are not slain, Morgul. No one can take from you the unlife I have granted. They may commend your spirit to this forgotten place but whilst your soul is chained to mine, you will live while I live.

Help me from this place my lord. Help me from this place and let me resume my service to you.

You will join your brothers who will be as they were before the One Ring was lost, before it all went wrong. I am stronger now than I have ever been. We need no fear of Morgoth returning to reclaim what is his, I have dealt that aristocratic fool for the last time. My power now rivals that of Manwe and I have ensured that the rest of Eru's bastards will not interfere. We will turn Arda like a pig on a spit. I am coming with all the darkness that have been chained in forbidden vaults of Mandos. You must unleash upon the world, every agent, every beast, everyone who would serve in our case, find them and let them do their worst. I want there to shadow and flame, blood running through streets. We will fill the air with so much destruction that they will retch on their terror. Arda was ours once, it is time to remind the world of that fact.

This is the moment, Morgul. We will take Arda or burn it to a cinder.

************

Standing in the center of the storm, the Lord of the Nazgul, waited for his companions to replenish their strength. His crimson eyes illuminated the walls of the cavern as he waited. He could hear the rumbling concern of the Uruks beyond. They wanted to approach but feared to do so. Elsewhere in the underground fortress, the great spiders who had been thriving quite plentifully in the darkness, feasting on the sustenance provided by Uruks, the occasional human and whatever animals that might make a home in these caves were also twitching with anticipation. Unlike the orcs, the spiders could feel the return of Sauron almost as acutely as the Nazgul was filling the return of their master to the world of men.

Remembering Sauron's words, they would be unleashed upon the world soon enough. For now, his brothers needed to be appraised of their instructions.

"It feels good does it not?" He asked them as they started to recover from their sudden restoration.

"Morgul," Khamul looked at him. "How is it possible? Our master is free!"

"Yes," Morgul nodded, the gesture evident only by the slight flutter of his hood. "He has broken free of the Valar and has been restored. He is returning to Arda even as we speak. We have much to do."

"But what of the Valar? Will they not attempt to retrieve him?" Akhorahil asked, although his voice was decidedly lacking in its earlier apprehension. His restored strength made him bold and he was eager to return to the world of men, to lay claim to it as Sauron had always believed they would.

"The way is clear of the Valar or Melkor," Morgul explained to his astonished but grateful brothers. For them, hope had been lost. This restoration and the news of Sauron's imminent arrival were almost too good to be believed when there had been so many disappointments already. "The master is returning to us and he brings with him all the host of the forbidden vault, the denizens of shadow that had been chained to the afterlife by Mandos. They have sworn their allegiance and they travel with him now."

"Then we shall go to meet him!" Khamul exclaimed proudly and the others echoed his sentiments.

"We will meet him indeed," Morgul almost smiled. His lips spreading across his unseen face in amusement and relish. "We will meet them with our armies, with all the beasts and allies we have hidden away for too long within these walls. Finally, they will see the light and we will crush the world of men and run the streets red with the blood of those who have stood against us."

"What of the Eldar?" Dwaw inquired. "They will move to stop us."

"They are nothing." Morgul retorted. "Without the protection of the Valar, they are weak and their number too few to impede us. Even if they dared to emerge from the Undying Lands, which they will not, the race of men knows not what they are. Men will not ally with them, not as before. The Eldar will stand alone and without the alliance of men, they will fall."

"It matters not!" Uvath said excitedly. "They cannot stand against us. We are restored and we are capable of vanquishing any army of Edain or Eldar that chooses to do battle against us. The prophecy still stands, we may not be killed by any man and there is not a jewel nor woman who can change that."

If it were possible, they would have seen Morgul grinning.

NEXT CHAPTER

RETURN TO MAIN PAGE