Part Seven
Awakening

Elladan knew from the instant Frank and Miranda had returned that they had failed to reach their children in time.

Miranda seemed utterly devastated; her bold determination was now replaced by open despair. He had only to look into her eyes to see evidence of the tears shed before this moment and his heart ached for her. Her connection to her children was like a living thread and to lose them in this way was like suffering a brutal amputation. Since his arrival into the Miller household, Elladan had watched her with Sam and Pip and could see how much of her being they had become. He remembered his father’s eyes when Elrond had set sail for Valinor at the end of the Third Age, the sorrow that was etched in his face at knowing he would never see the Evenstar again because of her choice to remain at Estel’s side.

Miranda now bore the same shattered look.

Frank hid his anguish better since men were more accustomed to concealing their emotions than women, however, it was clear to the twins that his sorrow was equally deep and his pain just as cutting. He was forcing himself to be brave for his wife’s sake but Elladan could tell that he was just as distraught at the loss of their children as she was. These were parents who loved their children dearly, whose affection for them could be seen in every word spoken and were now gutted because their family had been ripped asunder. Eru help him, Elladan had no words of comfort that could make this anguish any easier to bear. The enemy had taken the children and even if Frank were able to tell them what he knew about Bryan’s whereabouts, the Nazgul would still kill both children Pip out of sheer spite because they were Miranda’s children.

The Witch King of Angmar would have his vengeance on Eowyn after all.

"We were too late," Frank said as he entered the house and found it terribly silent without the sound of Sam and Pip tearing through the halls or arguing about something or rather. That silence was almost soul crushing and he had to swallow the hard lump in his throat because he was so damn near to losing control of himself. He could not lose his focus now, not when his sons needed him so desperately, wherever they were.

"They were already there at the school," Frank’s eyes met Elladan’s as he spoke, "They took Sam and Pip. We tried to follow but we failed."

"We lost them," Miranda said in a small voice as she drifted over to the sofa and lowered herself into it.

"We’ll get them back," Frank went to her immediately, unable to bear seeing the terrible pain in her eyes. Sitting next to her on the sofa, he allowed her to bury her face in the crook of his shoulder as she wept fresh tears.

The sound broke the heart of every man present.

Frank wished he had the words to make this better for her but how could he console her when he could barely contain his own despair? After the accident in the jeep, the two of them had scrambled out of the ruined vehicle, grateful that they had suffered no greater injuries than some scrapes and bruises. The airbags and seat belts had done their jobs well but husband and wife felt little joy in surviving unscathed. With the children gone, it felt like his insides had been ripped apart and he could not even begin to imagine what Miranda was feeling at this point.

"Why would they take your kids?" Eric asked, not knowing what else to say since he was never very good at offering consolation.

He did not know Frank and Miranda very well but he could see the effect of the children’s loss on the couple and wished he could offer some useful advice but all he had in the wake of their encounter with the creatures in the laboratory was more questions. Following their confrontation with Frank and Miranda rushing off, they had been left to the ministrations of the two men he had come to know as Elladan and Elrohir, brothers whose accents he could not quite place but sensed he could trust. The four men had then returned to the archaeologist’s home to await them there.

The brothers claimed that the creatures were capable of being harmed by fire and after the explosion Miranda had caused, they would need to nurse their wounds before they could set out on the hunt again. Eric had been dubious about this but as the time stretched during their wait, it would appear that they were right. In fact, Eric was starting to suspect that these men knew all about the assassins that had pursued Jason and him across Europe.

Unfortunately, they had been rather closed mouthed about what they knew and after awhile; Eric conceded defeat and abandoned his line of questioning. Instead he ruminated on everything that had transpired in the laboratory from the moment the creatures had made their appearance to the instant Miranda had ignited the room in a fiery explosion. At the time, so much had been a blur or words and images, cloaked in gunfire and urgent need to escape that there was very little time to process all of it clearly. However, now that things were calmer, he could think about what had actually happened.

Once they had seen Frank, it was as if nothing else had mattered and considering that it was pure coincidence that the archaeologist had stumbled into this affair, Eric wanted to know what it was about Frank that was so bloody important.

The children of the Riddermark. That was what the creature has said. Your brother cannot save you now. What on earth did that mean?

"They want to know where Bryan is," Frank stated, standing up as he ignored Eric and faced Elladan. "Isn’t that right? They took my sons so I would have to tell them where my brother is."

Elladan could not meet his gaze but nodded in the confirmation of his words. "Yes," he replied softly. "I imagine that will be their demand."

"Your brother?" Jason protested becoming as completely lost as Eric was now. "Those things were after us, not you."

"That may be so," Elrohir interjected, "but you have led them here and unknowingly to Frank. If they did know before of his existence before this, they certainly do now. Once they saw you, they realized you were the link to Bryan that they had been searching for so long."

"How could they know?" Frank demanded. His ability to remain calm was reaching breaking point. "How could they know Bryan was my brother and for the matter what the bloody hell are they? The amount of bullets Miranda put into them should have brought down bloody Godzilla! How could they still be standing?"

Having no idea who this ‘Godzilla’ was, Elladan chose to answer Frank’s vehemence with the truth since the situation now made it unavoidable. If Frank was to have any hope of retrieving his children from the hands of the Ring wraiths, he would have to be initiated into the world that Bryan was now apart of. Glancing at Elrohir, who nodded at his agreement for Elladan to answer truthfully, Elladan drew a deep breath and responded.

"They are called the Nazgul."

The room felt deathly silent as all eyes fixed upon him.

"You know what they are?" Eric burst out, feeling some measure of triumph in knowing that he was right about these strangers, that they would have the answers to the questions that had plagued him since Iceland.

"We are familiar with them," the elf answered with no small measure of bitterness in his voice. "The reason Miranda could not kill them Frank is because they are already dead. They may have shape and move about in this world but they do not live in any manner that can be consider life. Fire can hurt them but little else will. So long as their master exists shall they walk the earth, that much is immutable."

Silence followed since no one had expected such an answer. Elladan could see doubt in all their eyes even after what they had seen. It was one thing to see a creature being harmed grievously without dying but another thing entirely to be told that it was something that could not be killed at all.

It was Frank who surmounted this hurdle to ask the obvious question.

"Who is their master?"

"We know him as Sauron, the dark enemy," Elladan answered, certain that this further information would be viewed with similar skepticism but these were the only answers he had. "In your world he was called David Saeran."

"David Saeran," Eric gasped recognizing the name instantly, "the CEO of Malcolm Industries?"

"Yes," Elrohir replied remembering the details of the affair that had brought Bryan, Tori and the Ringbearer to Valinor. "I believe that is what his empire here is called."

"What do they want with Bryan?" Frank asked impatiently, wanting to know why before he focussed his thoughts on the who.

"Six months ago, Sauron attempted to bring about the total destruction of your world. His agents had seized control of great weapons that would have reduced everything to a fiery cinder. Your brother and his companions stopped this catastrophe from taking place and took Sauron across the sea to our land, where he could be imprisoned beyond the reach of his servants. Without him, the Nazgul are lost and they seek desperately any means to retrieve him. I believe they took Sam and Pip because they think you are able to reach your brother."

"We’re talking about the David Saeran?" Jason continued, still unable to accept that the Richard Branson like tycoon who had graced so many magazine covers was the megalomaniac villain Elladan describing. "The guy’s the rock star of millionaires!"

Eric did not comment because he was too busy thinking about what he knew of David Saeran. Much of what Elladan was claiming seemed impossible. However, some facts were undeniable. Six months ago, there had been a fire at David Saeran’s Romanian estate and while the company’s PR people moved quickly to announce that he had uninjured in the disaster, Saeran had not made a public appearance since. His absence was explained as being the result of some minor injuries sustained during the fire that required his convalescence on a private estate somewhere in Germany.

If Elladan was right and David Saeran was this Sauron that he described, then it made perfect sense why the company would try to conceal the status of its CEO. Malcolm Industries unlike most companies did not operate with a board of directors having equal say in how the corporation should be run. The function of the board in this case was only as silent partner, since David Saeran and John Malcolm before him had controlling interest.

The company was built on the fortune of the Malcolm family, having been whittled down through the years to its sole beneficiary, David Saeran. Its supremacy on the stock market had almost entirely to do with the men who sat in charge of the company and Saeran had generated a great deal of enthusiasm when he had taken over the reins. Perhaps maintaining the illusion that he was still in charge was the company’s way of ensuring its marketplace integrity.

God in heaven, this insanity was starting to make sense to him. He thought of everything that had been said inside the laboratory after these Nazgul had laid eyes on Frank. The leader had ordered the rest of them killed because Frank had suddenly become the greater prize. He had not understood the reasoning behind it then but after what Elladan had claimed about their desperate need to retrieve their master, it was logical. They did not need anyone else if they had Frank.

Eric’s eyes shifted involuntarily to Miranda and felt genuine sorrow to see her so anguished. For some reason, he wanted to comfort her. Seeing her so defeated after she had saved all their lives affected him deeply and Eric could not understand it. It was not as if he was attracted to her. He wasn’t and that surprised him even more because in light of his empathy for her. Eric wanted to go to her side, to hold her and tell her that it would be okay, that they would find her children. He wanted to offer his shoulder even if it meant having her husband flatten him for being so forward. He just could not stomach seeing her so wounded.

"Can you get in touch with your brother?" Eric opted for the safer course by asking Frank sympathetically.

"No," Frank shook his head, "I don’t even know where he is." As he said it however, his eyes shifted towards Elladan and Elrohir in an accusatory glance.

"Even if you did, it would avail you nothing," Elladan answered not unkindly.

"What does that mean?" Frank bit back, tired of all these cryptic answers. Bryan never intended Sam or Pip to be used as a bargaining tools for information and if his brother were here, Frank had no doubt that he would do everything possible to get his nephews back.

Elladan took no offense at Frank’s tone, understanding what compelled him to speak so tersely. Parents were seldom rational when their children were in danger and the twins had seen how devoted Frank and Miranda had been to their own. Elladan knew that he would have to tell Frank the whole truth despite how unbelievable it might be for the human to accept it. If Frank and Miranda wished to retrieve their children from the Nazgul, they would have no choice but to hear the tale of the past even if it went against everything that either of them thought they knew about their world.

"You asked where we come from and we would not tell you," Elladan said to Frank gently, "it is not because we wish to keep secrets from you but because we wish to protect ourselves. We are not one of you."

"Not one of us?" Frank stared at him, clearly perplexed. "In what way?"

Elrohir glanced at his brother, agreeing with him in silence at what had to be done next. Exposing themselves this way was never their intention but if Frank was to hear the truth, he would need proof. A mind such as his could not accept what he was told on face value alone. He had to shown something irrefutable.

"In the way that we are not human," Elladan answered brushing his hair back and exposing the ears that both he and Elrohir had kept concealed with almost religious devotion, "we are elves."

The room fell into stunned silence. Miranda was not so lost in grief over the abduction of her two children that she was prevented from showing her astonishment. Frank stared at the appendages with fascination. His scientist’s mind already producing all the logical possibilities that could explain those particular deformities in humans while Eric and Jason were of the belief that nothing they were being told should be surprising after what they had seen.

To Eric, it was so ridiculously simple. Of course, they were not men.

He would have balked at the suggestion if he had not remembered the helm that had saved their lives and what Petra Tebben had said about it before her unfortunate death. She had alleged that the helmet had been made for a species other than man. At the time, it seemed impossible to him, almost science fiction but now they were confronted with two men who looked human as any other, except for the ears and a luminous quality the journalist could not put his finger on. Eric had made a career out of playing hunches and though he usually found proof to back up his suppositions, this time there was none to be found and he was forced to rely on faith alone.

His instincts told him that these men, no he corrected himself, these elves were telling the truth. And if it was indeed as they said about the enemy then perhaps they could answer him one further question.

"It called us the children of the Riddermark," Eric found himself asking, breaking the silence at last. "Why?"

Elrohir turned his attention to the man whose identity he had discerned earlier before glancing at Miranda briefly before meeting Eric’s gaze again, "because that is who you were. You were in a life before this one, Eomer Eadig, King of Rohan or as it was known to the people of that land, the Riddermark. Miranda was your sister, Eowyn, who in later ages was known as the Shield Maiden of Rohan who fought at the Battle of Pelennor Fields and slew the Witch King of Angmar, the head of Sauron’s Nazgul. You Jason, you were at her side when she killed him. You struck the enemy and distracted him long enough for her to strike the killing blow."

"That is why he hates you," Elorhir looked at Miranda faced showed nothing but astonishment at Elladan’s statement. "You cut him down at the height of his power, when he was at his absolute strongest. Now that he has found you, he will want his retribution."

"This is impossible," Frank exclaimed after this revelation. "You cannot be serious."

"Frank," Elladan stepped closer to him," you may not accept what we have said but know that it is the truth. Just as it is the truth that you were once Faramir of Gondor, Prince of Ithilien, you must hear me and understand. I told your son a story a number of nights ago, about a great quest involving a ring. That ring belonged to Sauron and it was the Nine who hunted the Ringbearers during their quest. Your brother found one of these Ringbearers born again in the form of a girl child, whom he now raises and protects in our lands. You, however are raising the other."

"Sam," Miranda stood up and exclaimed, remembering those dark dreams that had filled her son’s nights. The ones she had convinced him were not real. "Sam is one of the Ringbearers."

"Yes," Elladan nodded, "and the Nine will know him by sight just as we did. They may be willing to release Pip for your cooperation but you will never get Sam back. They will keep him for their master."

"Why?" Frank asked, horrified by the notion even if he could not accept Elladan’s words.

"For vengeance, Frank," Elladan said grimly. "To make him pay for destroying the One Ring."

***********

It took almost an hour before Elladan paused in his accounting of the past to his companions. Considering that his tale comprised an outline of Middle earth’s history, the War of the Ring, the nature of elves and the dark lord Sauron, the elf thought he had done quite well to keep his explanation as short as he had. The only voice that spoke in all that time other than his own was Elrohir’s, who interjected whenever there was some point that Elladan should have made clearer. However, other than that, his audience remained in muted silence. He could not blame him for their difficulty in accepting everything that he had revealed to them because it required a belief in things so removed from what they knew as fact; it must seem like fiction. However, Elladan and Elrohir were proof enough that these things were real because these were the times in which they had lived.

It was Frank who would have greatest difficulty in accepting. His life had been dedicated to the study of the human past. It was more than just his vocation but rather his faith and that faith was shaken to the core because everything he thought he knew about the race of men was quite simply wrong. The bones that he studied in such great detail were clearly the bones of orcs and other goblin creatures left behind because those creatures had no reverence for the dead and did not inter their fallen like the other races. The middens that made up the bulk of archaeological theory were orc tools, lacking in finesse and grandeur. During the days before the situation they were now embroiled, the twins had studied the books Frank used in his work and the illustrations they had seen were clear to them, even if they were the cause of much study and supposition by the scholars of this world.

Miranda on the other hand, was easier to convince because she had faced the beast and had seen his true face during their battle. Even if she had difficulty believing everything Elladan had said, she was prepared to shunt aside her skepticism for her children’s sake. The other two men were trapped in a similar limbo of uncertainty. Their eyes had proved something of what they had been told but there was still doubt in their eyes. Elladan sensed it had more to do with the fear of having their safe existence challenged by such unworldly things rather than the belief of its impossibility.

"I can’t accept this," Frank spoke after long last and not unsurprisingly.

"It is the truth," Elrohir returned. "Your brother found it just as difficult to believe but in the end he had no choice. For the fate of the world, he had to believe."

"You are asking me to set aside everything I know," Frank met their gaze, "everything that I hold sacred. How can you expect me to do that?"

"Because it is how it happened," the elf declared.

"You’re a journalist Eric," Frank turned to the news reporter desperate for support, "surely you can believe it?"

"I don’t know what to believe," Eric shrugged, unable to deny that he found the elves’ claim wholly incredible. However, everything that he had seen sine Hofskojull convinced him that they were embroiled in matters that could not be dismissed despite their notions of reality. The Nazgul were real and they were supernatural creatures. If they were real then perhaps the rest of it was as well. "I know what I’ve seen and what I’ve seen says we can’t dismiss what they’re saying entirely."

"Frank it doesn’t matter," Miranda made herself heard for the first time. She rose from the sofa and went to her husband who had been pacing the floor during Elladan and Elrohir’s narration. Reaching for him, she took his face in her hand and said softly, "It doesn’t matter what is the truth. Maybe it is and maybe it is not, perhaps we will never know for certain. What does matter is Sam and Pip. Whatever our personal beliefs are regarding what they’ve told us, we have to trust them to know how to get our boys back. Nothing else matters Frank."

Frank stared into the depths of her blue eyes, eyes he found it so easily to become lost in. From the first moment he had laid eyes upon her, his heart had leapt out of his chest and his breath still caught whenever she walked into the room. If anything could convince him that what Elladan and Elrohir were claiming, it was knowing that she was his wife in that other life as well. The first time he had seen her, it had felt so right because he had felt so complete. Was the feeling generated by the subconscious recognition that she had been his once before? He loved her more than his life, more than his ability to articulate. The power of her over his heart was all encompassing, not just for her but the tremendous gift she had brought into his life in the way of Sam and Pip.

She was right. Whether or not Elladan and Elrohir were telling him the truth, that everything he knew about the past was false, all of it was a secondary concern in comparison to the welfare of their children.

"Yes," he nodded slowly, "you’re right. It doesn’t."

She smiled at him, a radiant smile even if it was tempered with thinly concealed fear for her children and Frank knew that he would believe anything for her. They held each other for a moment, ignoring the fact that they were not alone, exchanging a soft kiss and an understanding that no matter where the road led from here, they would travel it together and they would find Sam and Pip at the end of it.

"These Nazgul," Miranda addressed Elladan once she had pulled away from Frank. "You said that I killed one of them. How did I do that if they are supposed to be invulnerable?"

"Fire gives them fear," Elladan answered quickly, grateful that Miranda had succeeded in pacifying Frank for now. "However, weapons that are elven blessed can harm them considerably, if not permanently."

"Like this thing?" Jason suddenly spoke up, producing the helmet that Eric had given to him for safekeeping inside the knapsack. At the time of their escape from the faculty lab, Eric had known nothing about their new companions and it seemed prudent to conceal the artifacts until they knew for certain if these people could be trusted. While Jason had as much trouble believing that he was once a creature called a hobbit as the next person, he knew undeniably was the ‘shield bitch’ the creature had referred was indeed this blond woman who could fight like the devil. These ‘Nagzul’ did exist and they were not human. That fact Jason had accepted long before Elladan and Elrohir had given them names.

"When I hit that Nazgul with it, it hurt him." Miranda offered. "Bullets did nothing but this caused the bastard pain."

"Brother," Elladan called his sibling closer as he held the thing in his hands. "Do my eyes fail me or is this dwarf craft?"

"Dwarf craft?" Jason gaped, not expecting these two men to be so laden with answers, even if they were elves and not two delusional men with strange ears.

"Yes," Elladan said offhandedly as his brother came to join him in the scrutiny of helm. "They were great craftsmen. The size of the helmet tells me that this is one of theirs. For their short stature, their physical bodies were built for endurance. It is said that when Aule created them, he wanted to create a hardy race. Though they were small, they were stout with a good deal of physical strength and capable of withstanding attack because of their formidable musculature."

"They probably had thicker bones," Frank found himself interjecting, wondering if he was insane for even hypothesizing about this. "It would explain the slightly larger skull, it probably was not so much bigger as it was thicker."

"The dwarves we knew were certainly were resilient," Elrohir added. "Gimli lived 250 years and was very fearsome in battle."

"Dwarves?" Eric raised a brow, unable to think of dwarves as any more than the tiny people whom appeared in circuses. "We’re talking about the guys who followed Snow White around?"

"Probably not," Jason rolled his eyes.

"He was one of the Fellowship," Elrohir replied, glancing at Jason.

"So how come he isn’t reincarnated like the rest of us?" Jason asked, feeling stupid for even asking such an absurd question. It was so hard to swallow this possibility that he had lived a life before this one and knew a dwarf named Gimli and was called Merry. A male with a name like that could not possibly survive adolescence without enduring extreme embarrassment.

"Oh he is a dwarf," the elf explained, aware of the skepticism that their tales of Middle earth was being viewed but was ignoring it because he knew that these were true things he had told them and their belief would come eventually, even if they were cynical now. "Aule’s children do not go to the same place as men nor they are not immortal like elves. It is said that they are returned to the earth in death, to await until the end of all things. When the new world is created, Aule will awaken them to help with it’s rebuilding."

"Brother, do you know what this is?" Elladan exclaimed excitedly as his fingers traced the faint outline of the engraving emblazoned across the front of the helmet. Elven fingers, with its heightened tactile prowess, followed the path of grooves etched in the tarnished metal. In his mind’s eye, an image was taking shape and it was one that he had seen in the books of his father’s library. Elladan had studied almost every one of those books during the past one hundred thousand years and was able to recognize the image forming in his mind.

"You know what it is?" Eric asked, sitting up.

"I have seen only pictures of it," Elladan mused, "I cannot believe that it has survived to this day and age."

"What is it?" Elrohir questioned, never having that much patience with books much to his father chagrin and not as versed in lore as his twin.

"I believe it is the Dragon Helm, crafted by the dwarfs of Belegost in the First Age," he answered, his voiced filled with awe as he explained the origin of the helm. "It is the one the dwarf king Azaghal made gift to Maedhros."

"Maedhros?" Eric exclaimed, recognizing the name much to the surprise of the two elves.

"You know of Maedhros?" Elladan exchanged a skeptical look with his brother at how Eric would come by this information.

All eyes turned to the newsman who was exchanging anxious glances with Jason.

"Maedhros was the name of the project in Iceland," Eric explained because the mention of Maedhros was an important revelation. "These Nazgul murdered an archaeology team after they recovered that object and another artifact that had been buried in the ice for a hundred and fifty thousand years. I read the file on the expedition before I arrived in Iceland and Petra Tebben’s notes indicate that John Malcolm himself named the project, Maedhros. What does it mean?"

"Maedhros was the son of Feanor, he aided Azaghal during his ambush by orcs on the Dwarf Road. In gratitude for saving his life, Azaghal gave Maedhros this helm. It was worn to fight dragons. I believe Maedhros in turn returned it to Fingon who eventually passed it to the house of Hador. Turin wore this into battle against Glaurung the dragon."

"Dragons?" Frank exclaimed, feeling even more out of depth now.

"Malcolm was the name of Morgoth in this world," Elladan explained, "before he was vanquished by the Valar thanks to Aaron Stone’s effort."

Eric absorbed this and took into account the catastrophic destruction of the Malcolm Building, an act of terrorism no organization had laid claim to. He remembered attempting to cover the story in the media frenzy that followed and the underlying feeling that soon developed among all the journalists was that nothing about this incident was the norm for such acts of terrorism. No declaration was ever made by any organization claiming responsibility and despite the efforts of law enforcement to produce a suspect, there were still no clues as to who might have done the deed almost two years after the fact. If what Elladan had told them about the Valar was true, then it made sense why the destruction of the Malcolm Building was such a mystery.

"Jason," Eric said not looking at the younger man when he spoke, "show it to them."

Jason was a little apprehensive about revealing the artifact. He had developed a somewhat proprietary feel for it since it had come into his possession and was reluctant to let it out of his sight, even among people who had shown themselves to be allies.

"What artifact?" Miranda asked, puzzled.

"It’s why they came to see Hans and why the Nazgul found us," Frank answered. They had been so busy listening to the history of Middle earth and their past incarnations that there was little opportunity to reveal how Eric and Jason had come into their company. "We were examining these artifacts that they brought us when the Nazgul came and killed Hans."

Mention of Hans’ name brought produced another surge of grief for the old man who had been his friend and mentor. Frank did not think he would ever be able to erase the memory of seeing Han's neck snapped like kindling by the monstrous creature that took his life without hesitation. Hans had died, never knowing what had killed him or why his life was suddenly forfeit. For one who had spent his entire life uncovering the truth, this seemed profane to Frank. He swallowed away the pain because answers were needed if more deaths were to be prevented and he did not even want to consider what this meant for his sons.

"What is this artifact?" Elladan finally asked.

Jason produced the fossilized jewel that had begun this entire affair for him and Eric in the first place. Still half-encased in rock, the dark jewel held no recognition for Elladan and Elrohir as the human removed it from the knapsack and came toward the brothers.

"Be careful," Jason replied as he handed it to Elladan, "I don’t know why but it burns if you touch the crystal."

"Burns?" Elladan said puzzled as the object was placed in his hand.

He barely had time to register what it was when suddenly the crystal in his hand came alive with a blinding white light that surged out from his palm in an expanding ball of energy. In seconds, everything in the room was obscured by the power of the brilliant flare and before his eyes were completely overloaded with this enveloping illumination, he saw the husk surrounding the crystal crumble away like dust. Elladan was forced to close his eyes as he felt warmth it generated against his skin but it was a far cry from the burning that Jason had described. If anything, the heat reminded Elladan of the warmth one would feel on a summer’s day. Through the haze of white light, he heard glass shattering and screams that sounded farther away from the room.

Eric tried to turn away but the powerful radiance had already overtaken the room and soon surged beyond the house in an expanding wave of brilliance that made everything else vanish. For a minute, he thought absurdly that they were caught at ground zero of a nuclear flash. Even though he could not see it, he heard the others crying out, demanding to know what was happening. He could not longer see Elladan or anything else for that matter, just the incredible brightness radiating from the artifact. The television set came to life briefly and then shattered; the screen exploded sending glass shards in all directions. Inside the kitchen, he could hear other appliances similarly awakened before the outpouring energy became more than their fuses could cope with and they came to an abrupt halt with a sputter of electricity and sparks. Alarms screeched and were suddenly silenced. He was certain he could hear the microwave making a similar death knell before it exploded.

While Eric and his companions attempted to understand the catastrophe-taking place around them, the energy wave continued its outward journey. Leaving behind the boundaries of the Miller household, the artifact, long buried beneath the ice for a hundred millennia, unleashed its pent up energy upon finding its way at last into the hands of an immortal who was pure of heart. The life contained inside its facets had craved for awakening for so long and now that the moment was upon it, the euphoria of its joy swept forward in an expanding wave.

Its awakening was felt everywhere. In city of Oslo, in the modern age of Arda, the power of the artifact destroyed every electrical component in its path. From complex machinery to simple appliances, all were inflicted with the same malaise as fuses were overloaded and were then completely destroyed. Cars came to a grinding halt as their electrical circuitry was instantly destroyed. The streets became chaos as vehicles smashed into one other from on the road. Traffic lights ceased to offer direction, creating more confusion and more accidents. In buildings, lifts stopped moving and were frozen in place as back up systems quickly took up the task to prevent tragedy. Computer terminals switched off suddenly; losing valuable information and factories became silent with inactivity. Houses and streets became black with darkness as light bulbs and fuses boxes were destroyed.

In the air, airplanes close enough to the city were forced to land. Airport officials frantically attempting to direct the planes suddenly robbed of intricate guidance equipment. Power lines snapped, sparks bouncing off its severed cables, taking with it telephone lines that effectively cut off communication as well as power. As Oslo was plunged into further havoc, the inner fire of the jewel continued its jubilant awakening, spreading into the rest of the country and towards the sea, wreaking unintentional destruction in its joyful celebration.

The Nazgul who were presently returning to their master’s woman, screamed in pain as the outpouring from the jewel tore through their bodies. As things of darkness, they had great reason to fear jewel and now as it wracked through their shadowy forms, they suffered great agony as the wave swept past them. Though they were not killed, they did endure pain much to the confusion of the two children whom they had abducted. Unfortunately, by then they were already in the company of their minions and the momentary distraction of pain did not interfere in their plans.

In the world beyond Arda, Earendil the Mariner felt his heart quicken and the light of the jewel fastened against his brow seemed to glow even brighter than ever. The evening star for an instant became as a dawn’s light for the jewel recognized the awakening of another that was long given up for lost. Through the boundary between worlds, between the heavens and the earth, the power of the artifact was like a beacon in a black night devoid of stars. Even Varda felt its power and a smile returned to her lips for it was as if one of her children had been born her and she prayed within the halls of Valimar, that it would find its way to her once more.

And in the halls of Mandos, the sleeping mind of a dark god stirred in secret.

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

"What is God’s name was that?" Frank cried out when he was able to see again and found Elladan kneeling on the floor, staring at the artifact reverently. Around him, the others were recovering from the overload to their optical receptors, blinking feverishly as they tried to gain focus. Frank made his way to Miranda and touched her arm, a silent gesture to inquire if she was hurt. His wife nodded slightly indicating her well being before they both turned to Elladan who had begun to speak.

"Sweet Eru," the elf declared with tears glistening in his eyes as he cradled the artifact in his hand as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Frank had become accustomed to their aloof manner during the past few days and found it quite disconcerting to see them both so emotionally wrought.

"I cannot believe it," Elrohir spoke, his voice hushed with awe, his eyes similarly moist. "In our lifetime, I did not expect to see this again."

"I never thought I would hold it," his brother swallowed thickly, baffling the humans before him. The jewel was no longer crimson as it had been when it was partially encased in fossilized rock. Now, it glowed like a diamond, breathtakingly beautiful, capturing the light in all its facets. The brilliance that had wrought so much destruction had receded into a radiant sparkle that gleamed magnificently in Elladan’s palm.

"What the bloody hell is it?" Eric demanded, still shell shocked by what happened. His mind was trying to wrap itself around the fact they were still alive after that spectacular display of power. Looking around him, Eric saw the faces of digital clocks on the VCR, the table clock and even his watch were dead to say nothing about all the electronic devices that no longer functioned. The floor in front of the television set was covered in glass. Although Eric was certain it would take the next year for the spots in front of his eyes to completely disappear, he knew that the damage in this house was minor in comparison to the destruction that was caused beyond it. He knew that nuclear devices detonated in the upper atmosphere could cause what was called an electromagnetic pulse or EMP that had the power to destroy everything with an integrated circuit.

What had happened here was not that dissimilar.

"It is a Silmaril," Elladan answered breathlessly, "The jewels crafted by Feanor himself. The inner fire within it comes from the great Trees of Valinor, Telperion and Laurelin. It has been lost since the end of the First Age, we had never thought to see it again. Where did you find this?"

"In Iceland," Jason answered, feeling a sense of pride in knowing that he was right about the artifact, that he was justified in keeping it from the hands of the enemy. However, even he had not suspected that the jewel was capable of wreaking such havoc. "It was buried deep under the ice. If what you say about the shape of continents changing, Iceland would have been attached to Europe a long time ago."

"Maedhros was said to have plunged it into a fiery chasm along with himself," Elrohir stared at his brother for confirmation because it was Elladan who was the scholar between them.

"Yes," Elladan nodded, "we thought this destroyed."

"It was found less than a month ago," Eric explained. "The archaeologists who uncovered it paid for it with their lives. That’s why the Nazgul were there. They were after this all along. I thought it was just to keep us quiet about what they had done but they wanted the artifact."

"As creatures of darkness, they will be able to sense this. We cannot remain here any longer. Where this goes, they will be able to follow to some extent. Once they know where you are, they only have to be in the vicinity to track you." Elrohir explained.

"Why couldn’t I touch it?" Frank asked, remembering the pain he felt when he had attempted to handle the object and was rather confused that Elladan was cradling in its hand with no ill effects.

"You are mortal and I am not," Elladan answered, understanding Frank’s confusion. "The Silmaril can only be handled by an immortal that is pure of heart. It will not allow itself to be ferried about by agents of evil. No doubt when this was awakened, the Nazgul would have felt it wherever they were. You used this against them during our battle earlier, did you not?" Elladan asked Jason.

"I used it to burn one of them," Jason answered, sweeping his gaze across the faces of his human companions and realizing that if there had been any doubt regarding Elladan and Elrohir’s accounting of things, what had transpired a moment ago had surely confirmed it irrevocably. "They have been hunting us all across Europe to find that. Why would they want it if they can’t even touch it?"

"I do not know," Elladan answered, "but now that they know that Frank is here as well as the Silmaril, they will be back."

"No they won’t," Frank said quietly, staring at Miranda because he had been thinking about their situation deeply since the light had faded from his eyes. As much as Frank wanted to deny everything that Elladan had revealed to him about Middle earth, elves and the dark lord Sauron, he could not longer continue to remain skeptical after what he had seen. His faith in everything he knew was shaken to the core but Frank refused to let its deconstruction affect him because he needed his faculties intact if he and Miranda were going to get Sam and Pip back alive.

"How can you be certain of this?" Elrohir stared at him.

"They have our children," Miranda answered before Frank could. "They know that we will not go anywhere as long as they have Sam and Pip. In fact, they know that we will be waiting to hear their terms and I’m pretty bloody sure it will involve that rock."

"For what possible reason could they wish to gain possession of it?" Elladan reiterated Jason’s earlier question because he was just as puzzled as the humans. When it was in Arda, the only evil who could wield the Silmarils had been Morgoth and that was because he had been one of the Ainur, fallen perhaps but nonetheless one of Eru’s children. Not even Sauron could take up the Silmaril without it causing him great pain to say nothing of how it had affected the Nazgul.

"Maybe they want to use to get this Sauron person back," Eric offered.

"I cannot imagine how it could be done," Elrohir replied. "The Nazgul cannot go to Valinor to make such a demand. Even if they were foolish enough to make the attempt, the Valar would destroy them before they even reached its shores and the Silmaril would be reclaimed. It would avail them nothing."

Frank’s mind was racing as pieces of the mosaic fell into place. Now he understood why the Nazgul had wanted him alive while ordering others killed. He was their only link to Bryan who now in Valinor. If they believed he knew where Bryan was, they might also think he knew how to reach his brother in the Undying Lands. If that was the case, which Frank certain it was, then he would be their messenger to the Valar.

"They need me to do it," Frank declared to no one in particular. "That’s why they took Sam and Pip. They want me to go to Valinor to offer the artifact to your Valar in exchange for their master."

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

Beyond the walls of the house, everything was bathed in darkness.

As the sun set distantly in the horizon, the curtain of night seemed even more enveloping in the blackness that followed. The stars glimmered across the sky but not even their radiance could replace the lights that had been extinguished in the wake of the Simaril’s sudden awakening. The wave of energy had dissipated harmlessly now but that did not alter the fact that the city was in deep crisis. The loss of electricity had not only plunged the city into a major blackout but the initial overload had caused electrical systems everywhere to burst into flame, causing fires throughout the city. Under normal circumstances, these were easily containable, however the wave had damaged vehicles as well and fire engines that should be rushing to combat the problem were now trapped in their stations, unable to move.

Miranda could see the amber glow of fires illuminating the night sky, not only on the campus but throughout the City Centre skyline. The air was filled with voices of panicked and frightened people, some calling for help, and some searching for loved ones while others offered assistance. They had left the house because despite Frank’s suppositions that the Nazgul would take their time in acting, now that they had Pip and Sam, it was safer that they not be where the enemy could find them. It was Eric who suggested they tried to rethink their situation in safer surroundings but as Miranda allowed her gaze to sweep across the street, taking in the sight of all the destruction, she wondered if such a place existed tonight.

"It’s a bloody war zone," Miranda declared as they reached the street and saw the carnage in metal that had been created when the wave had destroyed the internal circuitry of all vehicles on the road, not to mention the havoc played with the traffic lights. The wreckage of steel was seen at intersections where collisions had resulted; it was evident in the shattered glass windows of ruined shop fronts and by the jet of water, surging into the air where a hydrant had been ripped from its place on the concrete pavement. The sound of chaos became so loud that it was hard to endure the knowledge that they had been the indirect cause of it.

"I had not believe the Silmaril was capable of this," Elladan remarked as his elven eyes was able to take better stock of the damage in the darkness and through the intermittent radiance of fires in some places.

"You probably didn’t have electricity back then," Jason replied, trying not to be affected by what they were seeing. After travelling to some of the most morally bereft places in the world where the slaughter of humankind was practiced to almost expert precision, he still was not as desensitized as he ought to be. "When all that power escaped, it probably fried every circuit in the city. A similar thing happened a few years ago in Canada except then it was a solar flare."

"Well I hope that’s what they think this is," Eric declared, fearing the repercussions once the authorities had time to think about what had caused the blackout.

"Not likely," Frank said sourly. "There is more than an enough instrumentation to predict with some measure of accuracy when that phenomenon occurs. Something this big would have given itself away long before it was able to just turn up and surprise everyone. After Canada, the threat was considered large enough to warrant the funding into research."

His attention was drawn away from the conversation by the sight of a woman trying to free her child from an upturned car. Without hesitation, Frank broke away from the group and went to help her feeling the need to be able to help one child after failing his own. Fortunately, it did not take much exertion and the child was soon free to return to his mother’s grateful embrace. Once he was certain that they were all right, he hurried back to the others.

"We have to help these people," Frank looked around, torn between the guilt of what had transpired and his need to find Sam and Pip as soon as possible.

"Its a nice idea but I think we should keep moving," Eric retorted, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead instead of the wreckage around them. "We don’t know how widespread the damage is and it won’t take the authorities long to pinpoint where that blast came from. If they find us, we’re going to have to face a lot of questions we can’t answer, not unless we want to see the inside of a padded room."

"He’s right," Miranda found herself agreeing even though she was no happier than Frank about ignoring the people in need around her. "At best, they’ll lock us up in a padded room," she retorted giving Eric a look, "at worst, they’re going to want to know what caused the surge and something that small generating that much power, is going to attract interest. If anyone finds out what that is," she glanced at Elladan who was now keeping the Silmaril in his possession, "it won’t be just Malcolm Industries and the bloody Nazgul that will be after us. We’re going to have a visit from the military."

"The military?" Elrohir stared at her in confusion. "For what possible purpose?"

"The purpose at which human kind excels better than any other living thing on this planet, elf or dwarf," Eric retorted cynically, "a more efficient way of killing one other."

"So where are we going?" Jason asked, noticing Frank was striding ahead as if he had a destination in mind, unlike the rest of them who were wandering through the streets like shell shocked refugees.

"Han’s house," Frank said somberly.

"Hans?" Elladan inquired.

"The old man who was killed," Jason explained quietly.

"Are you sure about this?" Eric stared at the archaeologist questioningly, uncertain whether invading the home of a dead man was the wisest course of action.

"Hans didn’t have any family," Frank replied. "Judging by the state of the city as this time, it will be a while before the authorities have the opportunity to identify his remains from what’s left of the faculty building. Hans has a place outside town, it will be empty for awhile. We need a place to hide, a place to think about what we’re going to do."

"What we’re going to do is get Sam and Pip back," Miranda said sharply, her tone indicating that she would take offense with anyone who felt differently.

"Yes, we are" Frank returned, his own anger accumulating with each step he took through the city. His life had suddenly been turned upside down, on every level. From the physical danger, to the loss of his children and the obliteration of everything he thought he knew of the world, even Frank’s deep sense of calm had its limits. He had been remaining strong for Miranda but his wife was riding a wave of aggression he could not control and frankly, had no desire to try. "However, we have no idea where they took the boys and if we don’t think of way around those Nazgul, they’ll be killed before we reach them."

Miranda fell silent, recognizing the tone of her husband’s voice and sensing that if she were to press the issue, they would all be treated to a surge of temper that might rival the explosion of energy that had escaped the artifact earlier. It took quite a bit for Frank’s temper to be ignited and she was being selfish if she thought that she was the only one who was wracked with worry about Sam and Pip. They were his children as much as hers and throughout the day, he had been there for her, providing her with the comfort of his strength. It was time Miranda returned the favor. Besides, as much as he might sometimes appear to be the bumbling academic, Miranda was perfectly aware of his powerful intellect and he was right in saying they needed a plan.

"They couldn’t have gotten far," Eric offered, seeing the rising tensions between husband and wife. Understandable, considering the emotional strain that they were both under. He did not know if he could believe that Miranda was once his sister or that he was even this Eomer, that Elladan and Elrohir were convinced he was. He did not feel like a king but looking at Miranda, her face full of determination, personifying beauty and strength all at once, he had to admit he rather liked the idea of being a brother.

"They had an hour," Miranda met his gaze, "they could have been anywhere by the time the wave hit."

Eric saw how hard it was for her to keep her emotions under control. In some ways, she was terribly female but he had sensed was power in her that was similar to the most battle hardened soldiers he had ever encountered. She was no mere housewife. That was for certain. No housewife he ever met was capable of fighting the way she did when she came to their rescue. She may have claimed to be nothing more than a wife and mother these days but Eric was convinced that there was a time when she was something more. The way she fought the Nazgul indicated some kind of military background. He had seen her fight and her technique was not to disable or to defend, it was to kill.

"I think we should find out whether Malcolm Industries has an office here in Oslo," Eric suggested. "Chances are, they would have headed there first."

"Could they still be there?" Elladan asked, totally out of his depth in this conversation. Fortunately, it appeared that Eomer’s incarnation was a man of some knowledge that would prove useful in the quest that lay ahead.

"It’s possible," Eric replied, thinking about the possibility with more scrutiny. "I doubt they could have boarded a plane out of Oslo before the blast and after it, nothing was going to be capable of taking off."

"They would not squander their advantage by remaining in place," Elrohir remarked. Perhaps he did not know the Nazgul as well as he had in the past, however, the older son of Elrond Peredhil was convinced that the enemy would spirit the children beyond the reach of their determined parents. Sam and Pip were the only means the Nazgul had to guarantee Frank’s cooperation. So long as the children were in their power, they could bend the father to their dark will. "Even if they are limited by the modern methods of travel, they will be on the move."

"I have to agree with him," Jason added. "They can ride horses and there’s a lot of this country that’s still undeveloped land."

"What do you know about the company?" Frank asked suddenly.

"Malcolm Industries?" Eric’s brow rose at the question. "Only what the PR people release. Successful conglomerate with interests in everything from oil to software. They’re a billion dollar corporation."

Frank considered this information as he kept his eyes upon the darkened road ahead. There was no fear of being run over by a car since it was virtually impossible that any were still capable of mobility within the city. "Billion dollar corporations don’t run themselves," Frank declared after a moment. "If the story about David Saeran recuperating in Germany is a lie and he is in fact this Sauron who is presently in Valinor, then someone else has to be in charge."

He was right, Eric thought, impressed by the acumen behind that deduction. "I guess so. However, it’s a leap assuming that they might know about the Nazgul."

"You said you were in a hotel in Iceland when the Nazgul tracked you down," Frank reminded. "They couldn’t have done that without the resources of the company since I somehow doubt these things are capable of making flight reservations or tracking down cell phone signals. We have to assume that there is someone behind the scenes clearing their way. I think if we find that someone, we’ll find Sam and Pip."

Part Eight
Conversations

Sam tried not to look at them.

If he did, he would just get afraid and that would make him cry.  He did not want to cry, not in front of them.  Also, he needed to be strong for Pip who was crying and had good reason to do so because they were in a great deal of trouble.  His brother was understandably frightened out of his wits after these creatures had dragged them off the bench in front of their school had not stopped crying since they had seen their father trying to beat down the doors of the car to reach them.  Sam’s thoughts were mostly on their mother and the despaired look on her face when she knew she could not help them.  In all his life, he had never seen her look that way and he would be just as content if he went for the rest of it without having to see the same. He tried to ignore the growing dread inside of him because he knew these creatures had frightened their mother. Nothing frightened her.

At least until now.

“It’s alright Pip,” Sam said holding his brother closer to him, “we’ll be okay.  Mum and dad will find us soon enough.”

The creature sharing the backseat of the vehicle with the two children did not react to this hope.  In fact there was very little that they did react to other than the strange storm of light that had occurred earlier when all the lights had gone out inside the building the creatures had taken them to after their kidnapping.  Then they had howled in pain like something terrible was tearing through them and though the moment lasted briefly, Sam had to wonder what had hurt them because knowing might give him and Pip a way to escape and they had to escape, there was no changing that.

Even now, they were moving farther away from the city in a car that looked very old, likes the ones he saw on the black and white TV shows that run during the day.  He liked Mr. Ed and being seven, had convinced himself that the reason that horses didn’t speak was because they had very little to say.  The car seemed to be unaffected by the destruction he saw outside, the destruction that further drove home the imperative of escaping these creatures to return to mum and dad.

The path they traveled was black, with illumination coming from the makeshift torches of people moving in the dark and the small fires that had was spread intermittently across the city. He saw cars that was smashed against each other and into other things and the world outside looked like those faraway places on the news that were always fighting. The ones mummy and daddy always argued about whether they should see. His father always claimed that their exposure to bad things on TV would make them de-sen-si-tized to it, Sam was not quite certain of the word. While his mother on the other hand, believed that bad things happened anyway without TV and it was equally bad to be unaware that it existed.

The arguments usually ended with them kissing and breaking open a bottle of wine with Sam and Pip being sent promptly to bed.  Sometimes, his parents could be very strange.

Strange or not, the need to seem them was overwhelming. He wanted to feel his dad’s reassuring voice telling him that everything was all right and mum’s embrace.

“What if they don’t find us?” Pip stuttered through his tears.

“They’ll find us,” Sam said with more confidence than he felt, “look at how mum made Aksel leave us alone? She won’t leave us alone like these for long.”

One of the creatures in the front seat snorted at this and it was the first reaction that Sam had seen it make that would indicate that it was alive. Even though they appeared as men in their dark suit and strange white masks, he knew without any doubt that they not human. It was more than simply knowing this to be the truth but feeling it in his bones as a sensation that saturated every pore of him.  He knew who they were even if he was too terrified to say it out loud. To speak the words would make it more than just truth, it would give his fear shape and form.

Black riders.

“No one will find you,” one of them spoke, a low, hissing voice that felt like icicles against his spine. Sam shuddered at hearing it and saw Pip cringing deeper into his seat at the beast’s voice.

“Our mum will find us,” Sam said defiantly. He needed to be brave because he was not brave than Pip would have more reason to fear. His brother was too small, too young to be able to withstand the black evil before them.  It never occurred to Sam that he was not so old himself.  He could not see past the fact that he was seven and older to recognize his limitations.

The creature stiffened at the claim as if there was something about it that drove a sharp point through his skin. He turned his pasty white face towards Sam and the young boy felt his resolve shake at the sight of himself reflected in those dark glasses.

“She is nothing,” he returned, “just a mortal wrapped in fragile flesh.  When I am done with her, I shall strip it off her bones like an onion. You may watch if you wish.”

“No!” Pip started to cry harder.  The imagery overloading his childlike sensibilities.

“Stop it!” Sam shouted impotently as the beast, not caring about his fear and trying his best to console his brother.

Pip had buried his face in his hands and although his face was hidden beneath the mask, Sam glared at the creature that had spoken, certain that he was smiling beneath the pasty facade. He wished he were not so small, he wished he could hurt him.

“My mum will get us back,” he said in a voice not quite his own, “she’ll get us back and make you pay for taking us away.”

“She can try,” the creature replied, gazing at his companions in the car with him, “she can try.”

***********

It took them almost three hours to walk half way across the city to reach Hans’ home on the edge of Oslo and even as they did, they saw how widespread the damage caused by the Silmaril had been.  People were moving about the streets in a sort of dazed astonishment, surrounded by wreckage on the streets and in buildings.  The fires still raged and many structures were devoid of power.  Civil authorities were attempting to maintain some form of order and as they reached the outskirts of the city, saw the arrival of vehicles that had escaped the wave from other parts of Norway. It appeared that the destruction had done its worst in Oslo.  Other major cities like Bergen and Tondheim had escaped unscathed and were sending aid.  Miranda was certain that some of the license plates she was seeing driving along the darkened streets, briefly illuminated by headlights, had also originated from neighboring Sweden.

“What it is like to be immortal?” Jason asked Elladan as they followed Frank as the streets began to thin into vegetation.  So many questions lingered in his mind even though Elladan and Elrohir had explained themselves as best as could be managed under the circumstances. From the moment he had laid eyes on the artifact, something about it had captured his imagination. Although he could not recognize for what it was, he knew that he could not allow the Nazgul to acquire it, despite being unaware of their true natures.  While Eric thought he was insane, Jason had clung to his belief that the artifact was special.

In his wildest imaginations, he had never suspected just how special it was.

The elf did not look at her as he pondered the question and tried to think of an answer that would make him understand what it was like to never fear the Doom of Men.  

“Long,” Elladan said after a moment. “Endless at times.”

His answer surprised Jason for he had expected something illuminating and enlightening. He did not know at what point his acceptance of the elf’s claims of immortality had slipped into the comforting realm of belief. However, Jason suspected his mind had already opened itself to a great many impossibilities when the artifact had come into his possession. The world in which the Simaril had originated was not so improbable when his mind was already of the belief that the jewel was beyond his understanding.

“It must be worth it though,” Jason stared at the elf, unable to imagine it could be anything else. 

To be ageless was something man aspired to for as long as he had sentience enough to understand the nature of death.  Everything that existed in life was somehow interconnected to this incontrovertible reality from which there was no escape. Men built empires to defeat it, created great works of art and literature that would survive long after they were gone to endure the inevitability of dying.  It must be terribly liberating to free of that limitation, to know that there would be always be a tomorrow and not fear that time was finite.

“Sometimes,” Elladan said quietly.  “I have lived for over hundred thousand years in a place that traps my race like flies in amber.  It is a paradise where we live but we are stagnant as a people. I see this world,” his eyes shifted back to the city, “I see your accomplishments and though I may not necessarily agree with everything that man has done, there is something alive and passionate in everything that has been built.  We did not realize until we emerged from our sanctuary, how important the need to strive is even to an immortal. The imperative to evolve is necessary to a race and when one is immortal, that is hard to do.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Jason replied and supposed that Frank, being the archaeologist among them, would probably agree with his sentiments.  A race had to evolve to progress. If there were no more challenges, no more hurdles to cross, then one would simply exist, instead of living. People wasted their lives never understanding the difference.

“And it is hard to see friends who are not like us die, leaving us with the knowledge that there will be no reunion in an afterlife. When we left Middle Earth to go into West, my sister remained behind because she loved a mortal man and she chose to accept his fate as her own.  For a hundred thousand years, her loss was a wound upon us that does not diminish with time and with elves, whose keen eyes and mind remember everything, there is not even the respite of forgetfulness.”

“Did you know me?” Jason asked quietly, seeing the sadness in his eyes and wishing he had not brought up the subject because it a profound sorrow that had marked the elf more than he would probably care to admit to a person he had only met hours ago. “I mean the person that I was..”

Elladan smiled.

“Oh yes,” Elrond’s son replied, instantly plunged into the memory of the hobbits and their enthusiastic manner.  What a delight they had been during those months in Imladris while they waited to embark upon the quest. Despite having such a terrible burden to carry, the hobbits had brought joy to the elves that had not thought it possible to see any race save other than themselves, so perfectly content and happy to be exactly what they were.  “Merry and his companions were greatly admired by my people and I knew him personally. My associations with the Master of Buckland were not as binding as that of Eomer Eadig but I remember him to be brave and fearless.”

“Fate has a funny sense of humor,” Jason remarked shaking his head as he glanced at Eric who was walking a few steps ahead, “I trust Eric with my life.  He had gone through five cameramen by the time I came along. I was certain, I wasn’t going to last a week with him but he took me under his wing from the moment we met and while he makes me want to throttle him at times, he is my friend. Now I’m wondering maybe its because we knew each other before.”

“My sister,” Elladan said thinking of Eve’s words, “claims that the souls of men are drawn to the friendships and attachments made in previous existences. A great friendship in one lifetime may simply be rekindled in the next. Souls are able to recognize each other, in much the same way that soul mates are bonded.”

“I like that,” Jason grinned, “I don’t remember being this ‘Merry’ though.”

“It does not matter that if you cannot,” Elladan said soothingly, “what matters is his soul belongs to you now and it is your will that will shape it in this life.”

“And it must be strange for you,” he added, “I mean seeing people who have been dead and gone, reincarnating again.”

“It is actually of a great pleasure to me,” Elladan answered sincerely. “I thought that we would be doomed to say goodbye to our mortal friends for all time but now I know that it is only a temporary parting that someday, we will find each other again just as I have found my sister and all of you.”

“Your sister came back as a human?” Jason exclaimed. “What is she like?”

“Well,” Elladan chuckled, trying to describe Eve as best he could, “she’s a good deal more assertive than she used to be, stronger than I ever imagined possible in character and spirit but somehow, she has completely lost her singing voice.”

“Her singing voice?” Jason laughed.

“Yes,” he nodded, “in the day, she used to sing with such beauty that some said it was comparable to Luthien herself.  In her human guise, her skill has been decidedly less.  Her one effort to try made every human who dwelt on Valinor grateful they did not possess our ear for song. Still,” Elladan met the human’s gaze, “it is a joy to have her in our lives again.”

“Just as long as she doesn’t sing,” Jason chuckled.

“Eru himself could not bear it,” Elladan retorted.

************* 

When they arrived at Hans’ home, it was empty as Frank expected it to be.

The house had been in Hans’ family for a long time and sat at the edge of the city, facing the sea on one side and the encroaching vegetation on the other.  Frank had chosen the place because it was in a relatively isolated place where it would be difficult for the enemy to track them. Since Hans lived alone, there was also no danger of neighbors noticing that someone was occupying his home in his absence. While Frank did not intent to remain at the place for long since like Miranda, he was eager to look for Sam and Pip, for the moment, they needed a place to sit out the night and decide their plan of attach.

As he entered the darkened timber with its polished wood floors, Frank was grateful for the flashlight they had acquired during their journey here.  With the citywide power blackout, he did not expect any of the lights to be working and prayed that Hans had at least candles somewhere on the premises.  Fortunately, it appeared that Hans had something better once they had entered through the front door, having found the spare key the old man kept under his front door mat.  Old lamp fixtures that used kerosene still clung to the walls and it took only a little bit of exploration in Hans’ garage to bring the house to some measure of illumination.

The interior of the premises was very much the home of an aging archaeologist with too many bookshelves, artifacts displayed in cases through the study and the halls.  Frank took a deep breath and smelled old leather and the distinct fragrance of musty old books.  Like a library, he thought and felt completely at ease within its confines.  However, what comfort he felt was temporary because being in this place, reminded him that Hans was gone and he was an intruder in a dead man’s home. Perhaps it was for the best, he thought to himself as he and the others went through the motions of settling themselves within the house. At least, Hans did not have to know that everything that he and Frank had held sacred all their lives was on the verge of being proved as great a as the Ptolemic Celestial Model.

Elrohir had gone to the fireplace to light a fire and fill the house with heat since even in the warmer seasons, Norway was a cold climate. Miranda had gone to the kitchen to see what food Hans had in the fridge, probably for something to do. His wife needed to keep busy in order to stop herself thinking about Sam and Pip and Frank could understand that sentiment because he wanted to rush out and find his sons as much as he did. However, he knew that they could not approach that particular problem without a plan and the enemy was perfectly aware that he would demand his sons’ safety in exchange for his cooperation.

If they were desperate enough to snatch children to ensure the return of their master, then they were desperate enough to ensure Sam and Pip’s safety for the time being.

It was a slim hope at best but it was the only thing that Frank could cling to at this moment.  Miranda’s sanity was poised on a knife’s edge. Even now as he looked into her eyes, he could see the fear in her eyes expounded by the demons of her past.  At the core of all that fear was the numb feeling of powerlessness and right now, while they were at the mercy of the Nazgul in regards to the welfare of their children, she must be feeling doubly so.  Frank had remained strong for her but he was just as anxious as she was and despite his words of formulating a plan to get the children back, in truth he had no idea where to begin.

Staring at a bookcase in the hall, Frank’s eyes drifted over the volumes of text Hans had acquired over the years.  Some were leather bound, others were soft backs, their repeated use evidenced by the creases running through their spines. Stand close enough to one of them and you could detect a faint whiff of musty paper and old leather, Frank thought as his fingers traveled along the shelf, as if the tactile contact would afford him wisdom he did not have. 

Once upon a time, these books had been all the knowledge in the world, now they were next to useless because everything he thought he knew was false. How could he engineer a plan to rescue their children when he had been so wrong? How could he trust himself to make any judgement after failing so utterly to understand the true nature of things?  There were elves in the next room, elves! Dragons, dark lords and dwarf kingdoms were not fiction. They were the reality. It was everything else, Homo Erectus, Homo Habilis, Australopethicus Gracile, those were the myths.

“Frank,” he heard a voice interrupt his conflicted thoughts.

He looked up to see Elrohir staring at him in concern.

“I was just looking at these books,” Frank replied turning his gaze back to the shelf. “My entire life is on these shelves, just like Hans’.”

Elrohir drew in a deep breath, aware of what made this human feel so terribly lost.  It was so much easier to understand Bryan, Elrohir thought because like him, Bryan had a warrior spirit.  In some ways, Frank reminded him of Elladan though he was certain neither would be able to see the similarities. Frank was brave and determined for certain but there was an understanding in his psyche that made him see things with far more accuracy than his more aggressive brother. Bryan believed force was the way to cure all ills, while Elrohir suspected that for Frank it was comprehension.

Faramir of Ithilien had been the same way.

It had always been Estel’s belief that of the two sons of Denethor, it was Faramir who was best suited to rule because he had a temperament that could govern men beyond the battlefield, where else Boromir knew war and little else. The One Ring had taken Boromir because he did not understand it and that was fatal in light of the power it exuded. A military man, he could think of nothing but using that power, even for the best of intentions, where else his brother had understood what the One Ring was and was able to save himself from its terrible distraction.

“What we have revealed to you, does not change who you are,” Elladan said gently, suspecting that his words would do little good. He had no argument that could make this easier for Frank to bear.

“Doesn’t it?” Frank met his gaze. “I have spent my entire life in search of truth, using the evidence to build an answer. In one day, I have found that not only am I wrong but all those who came before me were similarly mistaken. My profession is now the academic equivalent of astrologers. Nothing that I know or have been taught is true. Humans did not become what we are through a process of evolution and change, we simply appeared out of nothing!  Three million years of artifacts are now the skeletal remains of some subspecies you call Orcs, not us at all!  Even if we get my children and we return to some semblance of a normal life, what is there left for me? I can’t go back to my work because its meaningless!”

“I am sorry,” Elrohir replied, not knowing what else to say.  He wished his father were here. Elrond would have the words to make this easier for Frank to accept.   “It had been our fondest desire that you remained oblivious to all this. When we came to visit you, it was only for the intention of ensuring your safety, not revealing the truth.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Frank sighed in frustration. “If you had not been here then a good number of people would be dead and I would be in the hands of those Nazgul. I don’t blame you for telling me the truth because as much as I hate this, I hate the lie even more. You have opened a world for me that I know nothing about, a world I couldn’t even begin to imagine.  How am I supposed to trust myself to make any rational decision when I couldn’t see past the fallacy?”

“You think that your people are the only ones entrenched in a lie? My people have been sequestered in a paradise for the last one hundred thousand years. We have not encountered any other race since our departure from Middle Earth. We lived as if trapped in amber, going from day to day, with nothing to look forward to, no reason to change or strive for more. Look around your world, you have accomplished much. We may object to its form but your people have done something. All mine have done is grow complacent and bored. Our young see no challenges, no hurdles to cross, we lived like penned animals.  At least, you have entered the oblivion of unknowing without intention, we willing entered our cages.”

“A race must evolve,” Frank found himself saying, understanding all too well the danger of stagnancy. “You are here though, you have crossed the sea.”

“Yes,” Elrohir nodded, “only because the Valar decided that it was necessary for us to do so after seeing how your face has progressed. They understood the need, we ourselves had not the courage to admit it. You see,” he took a step closer to Frank, “you are not the only one who feel blind, in some ways, my people feel it too. Perhaps when this is all done, you may open their eyes to what they can be instead of what the world has made them.”

 “Maybe I will,” Frank nodded, his feelings of doubt had not passed but at least now he knew that he was not the only one who was lost.

************ 

Miranda had to do something.

If she did not keep her mind occupied, she would inevitably find herself hurling towards her sons’ welfare and another bout of despair was something she did not need to indulge once more. Tomorrow, when there was light and they had resources at their disposal that would ensure that any rescue attempt did not end in failure, she would think about them. For now, she had to maintain her composure and her sanity by keeping her thoughts occupied.  If she gave in to the feeling of helplessness and fear taunting her from the edge of her consciousness, she would be no good to anyone, least of all Sam and Pip.

She moved about the kitchen, finding food because her training had returned in full force since this had all began.  When exposed in uncertain territory, the first order of business was to find food and ensure that everyone’s strength was kept up.  A good meal may not come again for sometimes and it was prudent to store energy reserves in the body for that eventuality.  Being a bachelor, Hans’ died seemed to consist mostly of tinned food that was easy to make. Unfortunately, the oven was electric which did not impress her much and forced her to use the antiquated potbelly stove that sat at the corner of the room for mostly decorative purposes.

After wrestling with it for a good twenty minutes and threatening it impotently with the gun that she had ran out of bullets for long before this, Miranda finally managed to coax a flame into being.  For everyone’s sake, she hoped that the pipe that led into the ceiling was not blocked or it was going to get smoky very fast.  Miranda waited for the stove to become hot enough to cook, enjoying the increasing heat radiating from its small grilled furnace.  After being in Africa for a good part of a decade, she had become accustomed to the heat and the cold had affected her and the children especially, even after six months in Oslo.

“You seem to have the best seat in the house,” she heard a voice over her shoulder and glanced behind her long enough to see Eric entering the kitchen.

“I’m waiting for this ancient piece of rubbish to warm up so I can heat some tea,” Miranda replied.

“Tea,” Eric cracked a smile, “I haven’t heard dinner called that since I went home to visit my mum.”

“Bloody Australians,” she retorted with a bemused smile, “you pick up too many Americanisms. It must be all that sun.”

“Bondi boy through and through,” he answered picking up one of the cans she intended on feeding them as he reached the counter she was leaning against.

“I went to Bondi about twelve years ago,” Miranda remarked casually, “nice beach.”

“Nice?” He raised a brow. “It’s one of the best beaches in the world. Top place for surfing.”

“I’m guessing you’re a little homesick?” She met his eyes with a critical look.

“Guilty,” he said without contest. “Does it show that much.”

“Not really,” Miranda turned away, returning her gaze to the burning embers within the stove. “I’m just good at seeing these things.”

“I’m sure you are,” Eric nodded, believing it. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” she said a little too quickly, telling him more than she intended with that one response. “I’ll be fine.”

“We’ll get them back Miranda,” he assured her, “don’t think any differently.”

“I’m not,” she declared, her jaw tightening as she spoke, “I’m going to find my boys and then I’m going to make the bastards who took them pay in blood.”

“I get the feeling that you weren’t always a housewife,” he remarked and earned a sharp glare from her.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Miranda feigned ignorance even though she could care less whether he knew the truth about her past or not. When one was faced with the unimaginable loss of one’s children, it mattered little the others thing she considered important.

“I think you do,” Eric met her eyes. “I saw how you fight and that’s not something you learn at some self-defense class you might go to while the kids are at school. I’m a journalist, I’ve been in Sarejevo, Chechyna and even the Gulf. I know what Special Forces training looks like. When you fight, you don’t fight to defend, you fight to cripple. If those Nazgul had been anything but what they are, you would have killed them all.”

“I had him,” Miranda declared, her voice becoming as hard as flint, “dead.”

“Yeah,” Eric nodded in agreement, remembering the sound of those bullets tearing through the Nazgul at point blank range and then seeing the creature stand up despite it.  Until that moment, Eric had not truly appreciated the sinister malevolence of what they faced. “Think of it this way, you killed him once already.”

“I guess,” Miranda frowned, not certain of what to make of this whole notion of a past life.  Of everything the twins had told them, it was the notion that she had been some warrior maiden a hundred thousand years ago, which she found hardest to believe.

“Still having a little trouble believing you’re the Shield Maiden?” He could not help tease but then supposed he was in no position to offer taunts, not when the elves believed him to the reincarnation of an ancient king named Eomer.

“Shield maiden,” Eowyn shook her head at the thought. “Sounds too Wagnerian for my liking actually but its not as hard to believe that you might have been my brother.”

Eric raised his eyes and for a moment they simply stared at each other.  Two people lost in the same myth, trying to see past the barriers of their present personalities to seek out the people they may have been in the past. Whether or not it was to re-establish the familial bond between them, neither could say but Miranda could not deny that when she looked into his eyes, there was something that made him lower her guard slightly.  She did not take to strangers very often and even though their insane situation had created bonds between them, she still should have been able to keep him at a distance.

She should have but she wasn’t.

She was already at ease around him and that surprised her. After Belfast, it took time for Miranda to accustom herself to the presence of strange men in her life. Frank and to a lesser degree, Bryan had been the only exceptions to this rule. Once she got to know the men in question, Miranda’s barriers would lower, as it had been when Elladan and Elrohir had first come to stay. However, with Eric it was different. She was talking to him and their conversation was not merely obligatory but meaningful because she found herself speaking about her fears.  In the service, she was taught not to give up secrets or weaknesses, invariably they could be used as a weapon. She knew that this had a good deal to do with her reserved nature and the fact that she was talking so freely, to a journalist of all things, surprised her.

“Do you believe it?” Eric asked, having come to the conclusion that it was quite something to gain this woman’s respect.  For the first time in this life, he had met a female he could not charm, whom he was quite certain was capable of seeing through all his bullshit before he opened his mouth to utter it.  It was rather intimidating to lose that edge over the opposite sex but also somewhat liberating.  There was no need for the games played between the genders, no reason for sexual innuendo and any of the complexities that made relationships between men and women so difficult.  Jason had once said that he was the way he was because he had been raised in a male dominated household.

Eric supposed that was not untrue. He had been raised in the city but his father was a country boy and in the bush where weakness could break you a dozen times before the sun set that day, his father had been a product of his environment.  Eric’s father had been tempered by the property in Victoria but not even he could hold a candle to Eric’s adoration of his grandfather Theo who always seemed larger than life.  Theodore Rowan had been the traditional Australian grazier who had acquired his large property by working hard every day of his life. Eric had adored him. His grandmother, he barely remembered and his mother, who was similarly overshadowed by the personality of his father, had made little impression on Eric. Perhaps that is why he had such a disposable attitude towards women.

Of course there were women who did fade into the background and Eric had never really known how to relate to them.  He always felt it easier to charm and seduce them but always remained at minimum safe distance to never let on that he understood very little about them.  Eric wondered if it would have made any difference at all to his life, if he had been an older brother to a sister.  Now as he looked at Miranda and felt connections he could not explain, it was dawning on him that this might possibly be the only chance he would ever have to experience such a thing.

“I don’t know,” she finally answered. “Personally, I have enough difficulty dealing with a flesh and blood sister, than a spiritually reincarnated brother.”

“Tell me about it,” Eric retorted, “yesterday, I was an only child. Now it looks like I have a sister that could bloody well kick my ass if I’m not careful.”

Miranda chuckled, “well I was always certain that my parents came home with the wrong baby because my sister and I never got along.”

“What’s she like?” Eric asked.

“Bitchy,” Miranda answered without hesitation.

“So its a deep relationship then,” he met her gaze with a mischievous glint hat caused her to laugh.

“Yes,” she answered, grateful for the diversion, even if it was fleeting. “We were never close. It’s not her fault or mine; we’re just terribly different. Sam and Pip are the same way...” she started to stay before drifting off into silence when the mentioned of their names surfaced the anguish she felt in her heart at their absence.

“Hey,” Eric reached for her arm, “Miranda, we’ll find them.”

“God I hope so,” Miranda replied, feeling her emotions overwhelm her for a moment. She had to choke back the lump in her throat as she thought of her two sons, her babies. “I can stand it Eric,” she met his eyes and a glimmer of moisture appeared in her own, “it’s like having a part of yourself torn away and while its gone, there’s nothing there but emptiness. I can still smell them on my clothes after they hugged me when I dropped them off at school...”

“Miranda,” Eric declared with more assurance than he felt, “your husband’s a pretty smart bloke and he’s figured it out right. These Nazgul need Sam and Pip alive, they can’t get their master back without Frank and for Frank to cooperate, its in their best interest to make certain no harm comes to your boys.”

Miranda wanted to believe that, she truly did but she also knew people, especially the darker parts of their nature. The Nazgul were the living embodiment of this shadowy reflection and no matter how logically she argued this in her head, she was still a mother and being a mother did not always make one rational when it come to the safety of one’s children.

Miranda drew a deep breath, wishing to purge herself of these emotions but reluctant to do it before Frank because her husband was wrought with the same despair that she was and Miranda did not want to make him feel worse. Frank was keeping himself together because his family needed him and Miranda knew that when he claimed they needed time to formulate a plan, she had no doubt that he would.  She loved him deeply but she also knew the ruthless logic that existed beneath his scholarly interior. If there was a way to get their children back, Frank would find it and Miranda had no intention of impeding his progress by burdening him with her anguish.

“You know,” she raised her eyes to Eric, not certain how she was able to trust him but knowing that she could, "all his life, Sam’s had bad dreams. He always dreamt of being chased in the night, of dark things following him in the woods. I thought it was just a child’s nightmares, though I could never imagine where it came from, I told him that none of it was real. I told him that there were no monsters lurking in the dark and he believed me.  I was wrong Eric, there are monsters and they took him. What must he be thinking?”

“You told him what is true most of the time,” Eric said soothingly, “I thought the same thing myself. I stumbled into this thinking that this was all just another story, a punishment really for what I’d done back in Sydney.”

“What did you do?” Miranda was forced to ask.

“I was sort of caught with my bosses’ wife at a company ‘do’. He wasn’t impressed and sent me and Jason to Iceland instead of the Gulf,” he said somewhat embarrassed.

Miranda chuckled, “were you drunk or just stupid?”

“I say drunk, Jason says stupid,” he replied, not at all offended by her amusement.  In the light of everything they had experienced in the last 24 hours, what happened in Sydney had ceased to be as important as it had been when they first arrived in Iceland.

“I’d listen to him,” Miranda returned with a straight face,” he’s on the right track.”

Eric cracked another smile, “so this what having a sister is like? I’m glad I’m not missing out.”

“Don’t worry,” she replied turning back to the kitchen counter, “there’ll be lots of time for me to tell you how much of a pig you are.”

“I’m not a pig,” Eric protested. “I just have no control when it comes to the opposite sex besides,” he grinned. “What can I say?  I’m charming.”

Miranda rolled her eyes, “that’s one way to put it.”

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

With Oslo behind them, the vehicle in which Sam and Pip were trapped drove for most of the night. At some point, Sam could no longer stay awake and he fell asleep, only to be assaulted by terrible dreams that were no where as terrifying as the nightmare of his reality.  In the dreamscape, there had been some comfort in knowing the darkness pursuing him would end with waking but now, waking held no solace for the enemy had escaped its boundaries and were waiting for him.  Pip had found it easier to sleep and Sam was grateful for this when he awoke and found his brother still very much lost to his slumber.

Beyond the tinted windows of the car, he saw the sunshine beginning to bathe the land. He did not know how far they had driven but it felt like a great distance. The terrain outside looked nothing like the city or country he had known. He could not read the signs and felt a deeper sense of dread because the language did not look like the one he had become familiar with in Norway.  To his dismay, Sam realized that they were in another country and the threat by their kidnappers that mum and dad would never find them became more ominous inside his mind. He made no mention of this to Pip nor did he see any reason to wake his brother up with this discovery. Pip would only be frightened by the news and Sam had trouble enough trying to keep control of his own fears, let alone add to the disintegration of his brother’s.

He knew at some point during the night, they had crossed a body of water. He remembered this because he had been groggily aware of hearing waves sloshing against something.  Sam bore his alarm in silence, certain that showing his fear would give their captors more satisfaction and the innate hatred he felt for them would not permit him to give them that pleasure. They were now in the mountains. Beyond the windows he could see mountains, lush and green, rolling high above a valley that home to a sapphire vein of river. It was beautiful to look, not unlike the arid landscapes of Africa that Sam had spent most of his young life.

They had stopped during the journey, long enough for Sam and Pip to be fed and allowed the use of facilities. The creatures had kept close eye on them, never affording them enough privacy to escape or get help.  Somehow, Sam suspected that asking a stranger to help would only end in disaster, so the few excursions beyond the vehicle had gone by without incident although there were moments when he had been sorely tempted to run. However, with an intuition he did not understand, Sam knew that these creatures had hunted him a long time and were not about let him slip through their clutches now that he was finally in their power.

“Where are you taking us?” He asked for the hundredth time since his incarceration. They were not fond of answering him but childish persistence did not know the meaning of the word surrender and in Sam the trait was particularly strong.   Pip stirred slightly at the sound of his voice but not enough to awake.

His captors did not answer and while one of them had addressed him at the onset of this journey, he note that they did not speak a great deal, even to each other.  However, when they did communicate it was when they thought he and Pip were asleep.  Sam had listened to their word and though much of it made little sense to him, some things became clear and gave him some idea as to how to manipulate the situation.

“Why can’t you say where we’re going?” Sam asked, determined to get some kind of a response.

The silence forward.

“Are we near yet?” He insisted, deciding to indulge in the behavior that would normally have his father jamming his foot on the accelerator and threatening to turn the car around if he and Pip did not behave. Leaning back into the chair, he began kicking gently the seat in front of him.  The Nazgul seated in it straightened and cast a look at him. Sam stared back unrepentant but wisely stopped kicking.

“Are we there yet?” He asked once more and made the Nazgul face forward again, seething in annoyance even if he said nothing to indicate it.

Sam’s eyes narrowed as he stared at them, trying to think of more ways to engender a response and resorted once again to the things that his parents found most irritating. Digging his fingers into the leather of the seat, his nails against the upholstery made a decidedly unpleasant squeaking sound. Once again, the Nazgul reacted to this and spurned Sam on.  He continued to do so, pretending not to notice the irritation of those around him.

“Sam,” Pip stirred out of his sleep, “what are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Sam replied, his eyes fixed on the Nazgul as he resumed kicking, much to his brother’s puzzlement.

“Are we there yet?” Sam asked again and finally forced the Nazgul who had threatened him and his mum to face him.

“If you do not cease this noise, I will split open your belly and scoop out the insides,” his dark glasses gleamed with Sam’s reflection, his voice full of menace.

“No you won’t!” Sam bit back. “If you were going to kill us, you would have done it already!”

The creature raised his hand as if prepared to strike but no sooner than he did, one of the others immediately intervened to stay his hand.

“Now is not the time,” the cold voice hissed through the small compartment.

The leader of them retreated into his seat once more, his gaze still fixed on Sam. “When the time comes, I will kill you,” he said coldly. “Make no mistake on that, Ringbearer.” 

********* 

For Irina Sadko, the plan had been simple.

After Aaron Stone and Bryan Miller had taken him from her, with the aid of the Nazgul, she had scoured England for any trace of their whereabouts, hoping that she could get to them before they left for the Undying Lands.  Unfortunately, an MI6 agent knew how to go to ground and despite their desperate efforts to find David’s abductors, they had failed to stop the inevitable.  The Nazgul had known the instant he had been taken beyond their reach because their powers began diminishing almost immediately.  There was a time when they would have been damn near unstoppable and while they were still dangerous to those they hunted, their power was continuing to fade the longer their connection to David remained severed.

United by the mutual desire to rescue David from his incarceration, the Nazgul had quietly provided her with the control of Malcolm Industries. While the rest of the world believed that David Saeran was here in the hills of the Harz Mountains in Eastern Germany, recuperating from the fire that had destroyed his Romanian residence, Irina sat in charge of Malcolm Industries vast resources. In the offices of Malcolm Industries across the planet, she was recognized as David Saeran’s associate and it was through her that his orders came.  As far as they were concerned, David was still running the company even from the seat of his convalescence.   Irina had maintained the illusion since there would be no need for transition if he returned and assumed control once.

Not if, when he returned.

Initially, she had hoped finding a relative of Bryan Miller would allow her into Valinor. After all, it was safe to assume that the Valar would be open to permitting a family member of one of its heroes through the barrier between the worlds. However, she soon came to the realization that reaching Valinor was not the problem, it was convincing the Valar to let David go.   She had nothing to bargain with, no insurance to keep them from imprisoning her as they had done to David.  The Nazgul could not go in her place because the Valar would know immediately what they were and the wraiths were too valuable a commodity for her to lose.

She knew very little about the mythology that gave birth to Sauron, although she knew about the One Ring and his unsuccessful bid to conquer the lands once known as Middle Earth.  She accepted everything David had told her without question, after all, her love for him did not allow her to doubt.  Besides, he had given her ample proof that he was the god she loved so dearly.  However, if she were to affect his liberation from the Undying Lands, then she would have to know it all. Morgul had aided the gaps in her knowledge begrudgingly.  She knew he disliked her intensely but with his powers and that of his brother waning, he had no choice but to tolerate her.  He had exhausted all avenues of retrieving his master, a fresh perspective, even from a human may produce results.

He told her of Middle Earth, of the conflicts that preceded the War of the Ring, beginning with Melkor’s dominions over earth to the fateful war with the elves that had begun with Feanor’s greatest creation. She heard of names like Thingol, Fingolfin and Finrod and the Battle of Unnumbered Tears and Doriath. She also heard of the Silmarils, the jewels crafted by Feanor, one of which now looked upon them from the sky as the Morningstar while the others had been lost because of Feanor’s sons, Magylor and Maedhros. .

As soon as she heard the name, she knew she had her answer.

Remembering a brief conversation she had had with David prior to his abduction, she searched the records at Malcolm Industries and found the expedition that David had tried to stop, the one put in place by John Malcolm himself. The project called Maedhros.   David had said that Malcolm was still obsessed by the jewel that had caused the ancient land of Beleriand to be ruined and sunk to the bottom of the sea.  The Silmarils, created from the light of the great trees that had once illuminated the world was what John Malcolm had hoped Petra Tebben’s archaeology team would find in the icy depths of Iceland. 

And find it she did.

Unfortunately, by this time Malcolm was dead and David was beyond her.

Initially, the plan had been to find the Silmaril and use it to reach the Undying Lands. Something of that much value would draw the interest of the Valar, even if they were hiding behind their barrier. Irina had intended to sail to the Undying Lands to barter for David’s life. It was a desperate gamble, she knew it. However she loved him and the risk was worth it. Unfortunately, Petra had complicated matters by bringing media attention to the Silmaril, forcing Irina to act.  The Nazgul’s efforts to retrieve the jewel had failed with the two journalists, Eric Rowan and Jason Merrick escaping in possession of it. However, she could not believe her good fortune when this unexpected wrinkle had led her to Bryan Miller’s brother and his family. 

Being led to them, changed everything.  Now the plan was strengthened beyond her earliest expectations. With his children in her hands, Irina had the bargaining tools she needed.   Frank Miller would go to Valinor, he would entreat the Valar to allow him to return to the world with David because if he failed, she would ensure that he never saw his children again.

If she could not have the one loved, then neither could he.

************ 

After what seemed like an eternity of following the path of the winding tar that meander through the mountains, the vehicle turned into a newly constructed side road. As they traveled this new course, Sam saw large trees on either side flanking the road, creating a canopy of leaves throughout its length.  The car disappeared beneath this latticework of leaves and branches, speeding up as it reached the end of its journey.  Sam felt his ears pop with the increased altitude, a sensation that made him flinch uncomfortably.  Before the landscape had disappeared behind the trees, he had thought that perhaps they had reached the highest place in the world.

“Its okay Pip,” Sam said soothingly, aware that his words had little weight now.  His brother was terribly afraid and despite Sam’s earlier bravado, so was he.  They seemed so far beyond the reach of mum and dad that the reality that they may never be found was starting to crowd their young minds. Despite the need to feel hope, Sam was beginning to fear that they may never see their parents again.  Suddenly, dying was no longer the worst thing that could happen to them.

“How will mum and dad find us?” Pip asked in a small voice, his eyes trying not to look at the creatures in the car with them.

“They’ll find us,” Sam insisted, not daring to believe anything else. “I know it.”

“But they don’t know where we are,” Pip countered, his lip quivering with fear. Sam wish he could say something to alleviate his terror but he could not manage his own fear let alone assuage anyone else’s.

Sam did not know how to answer and lapsed into silence. Both children watched anxiously as the car penetrated the canopy of leaves to emerge at a plateau like cliff that seemed to overlook the entire mountain. They may not be at the peak of the mountain but there were certainly high up. Outside, Sam could see lower hills, great tracks of forest and the river cradled in the bosom of the mountain.  It would have been very beautiful if they had not been so frightened.

The structure that sat upon this plateau was a castle. Sam’s mind could not see it as anything else.  It was a constructed from red brick, polished smooth with windows framed by statues of what looked like knights.  There were many floors; at least four that Sam could count and the slate grey roof that ran across it was seamlessly tiled. The road came to an end at the front door of the castle, framed on either side by a cobblestone courtyard that held an ornate fountain.  It should have been a pretty place but Sam could only feel dread as he looked upon it.

The car came to a halt before the front entrance where Sam and Pip were quickly ushered out by the creatures that had brought them to this place.  Pip clutched Sam’s hands tight as they entered the doorway into the castle and felt immediately a cold draft sweeping over them. Robbed off the sunshine, the innards of this palatial residence felt icy.  Sam wondered if it was really cold or was it just in their heads.

“Where are we?” Sam found his voice as he stood in the front hall, hearing footsteps approaching from other hallways.

“Here,” the creature in the dark suit hissed.

“I don’t understand,” Sam looked around.  “Who lives here?”

A set of doors opened into the front hall from an adjoining room and stepping out of the shadows was a woman. She was very pretty with dark hair and deep brown eyes. She wore a black suit that clung to her shape and revealed her long legs.  She saw Sam staring at her and took a step before them both, driving Pip to take refuge behind Sam in fear.

“I do,” she said with a little smile as she paused in front of Sam and Pip and lowered herself to eye level, “my name is Irina and I am very pleased to meet you.”

Part Nine
The Enemy

It was like the aftermath of a battlefield.

Leaving Hans' home at first light, Frank, Miranda and their new companions made their way into the city once more. A telephone directory in their refuge had given Frank the idea during the night that Malcolm Industries most likely had an office in Oslo itself and a quick perusal of its pages confirmed this as fact. With the entire city crippled because of the Silmaril's energetic awakening, the abductors who had taken their children had no way of contacting them with their demands.  Frank doubted that Sam and Pip were at the Oslo branch of the company but at least going there would give them valuable information as well as giving their abductors notice that they were willing to listen.

Frank had no real intention of taking the Silmaril to Valinor because unleashing David Saeran on the world would make the Nazgul even more dangerous than they already were. If Elladan was right, if Sam was indeed this Ringbearer that had thwarted the dark lord's plans in another existence, then his minions would be less likely to give up the boy because he would make a great gift to their freed master. No, Valinor could not be an option. While Saeran remained trapped in his prison, the Nazgul, though dangerous could be fought.  If Saeran's connection to them were re-established then all of them, not just Sam and Pip, would die.

The morning after the wave was a good deal more sedate that than the hours immediately following it. The fires had been extinguished during the night and all that remained were the burnt out husks of buildings, still exuding wisps of smoke.  There was a silence about the place that was all consuming and sent a chill through them as they continued down the sidewalk.  For a moment, it did not feel as if they were walking in the streets of a major European city but rather the heart of war zone in some strife torn country. Windows remained broken, shop fronts had been assailed by looters with their display window and their doors smashed in as thieves reveled at the impotence of previously formidable security measures.

"Christ, this is eerie," Eric found himself saying as he eyes the wrecks of cars that had slammed into walls or had simply crawled to a stop when the wave had done its worst.  "I feel like I'm in Chechnya or something," he said to no one in particular.

"We need to find a car," Miranda replied.

"Good luck," Jason retorted skeptically.  "Unless someone had an old clunker we can pinch, I doubt we're going to find one."

"It isn't far," Frank replied, "a couple of kilometers at the most."

"In the days of Middle earth, we journeyed through most places on foot," Elladan remarked. "From Bree to Imladris, it would take us six days."

"Six days?" Eric stared at them. "You walked for six days?"

Elrohir shook his head in disapproval, "you people are too dependent on your devices."

Suddenly, they heard the low drone of a car in the distance. Like the rest of her companions, Miranda searched for the source of the engines and deduced immediately that it was coming from behind it, most likely from out of town.   Thinking quickly, she made a decision, determined that they should not be delayed for any reason when the lives of her children hung in the balance.  Miranda had no patience with waiting and while Frank's strategy was sound, there were some things about their situation she was better suited to handle.

"You guys, hide." She ordered them.

"Hide?" Frank looked at her.

"Just do it!" She insisted, her eyes darting forward to the direction of the approaching vehicle.

The five men looked at each other in confusion but obeyed when it became apparent there was little time to debate the matter. Taking refuge behind the remains of a smashed car, they watched as Miranda stood in the middle of the road and waited. She ran her fingers through her hair and unfastened the buttons of her coat, leaving it splayed open to reveal the t-shirt she wore beneath. The car made its appearance later, a late model Ford station wagon with license plates that indicated it had most likely journeyed here from beyond the city.  As soon as it came into sight, Miranda began waving furiously and calling for it to stop.  No doubt, if there were any other people in the area, they would also be searching for a way to get back to their loved ones.  Miranda was not entirely callous of their needs but the safety of her children demanded that she be selfish.

The driver of the car was a man in his mid thirties who immediately brought the car to a gradual halt when he caught sight of her.  Miranda took a deep breath, sizing him up as she made her way towards him, glancing over her shoulder with just enough subtlety to warn those in hiding to remain where they were.  She noted that he was eyeing her appreciatively and supposed she ought to be grateful that bearing two children had not reduced her attractiveness to the opposite sex. It could be particularly useful at Christmas when she was trying to wrangle that nice bracelet out of Frank or instances such as this when they needed a lift.

Taking advantage of his interest, Miranda flashed him a radiant smile and was grateful that her Norwegian was passable enough to be understood. She approached his casually, aware of the frown that was on Frank's face as she sauntered to the driver's side window.  The man lowered it immediately and looked up at her with a similarly inviting smile.

"Do you need help?" He asked.

"Yes," she answered. "I was out here looking for a job when all the trouble happened. I've been stuck here all night, waiting for help."

"British yes?" He asked, noting her accent and switching to English.

"That's right," Miranda nodded grateful for that respite. "I wonder can you give me a lift. I need to get back to the city center."

"There is a mess there too," he answered. "I'm coming to bring my uncle out of Oslo until things are back to normal. I can give you a lift."

"Thank you," she smiled gratefully, watching him carefully as he started to turn away.  He had no sooner turned his back to her when Miranda threw out her fist in a single, concentrate strike. Her knuckles connected with the back of his skull, making the sound of a single hard  thwack of flesh before he slumped sideways without uttering another word. Straightening up as she surveyed the area to ensure she had not been seen, Miranda proceeded to open the car door.

"You can come out now," she called out to no one in particular as she dragged her unconscious victim out of the car and left him on the pavement.

"We're not stealing his car," Frank stared at her in shock.

"We need to get to city and we don't have a lot of time," she met his gaze. "This was your plan."

"My plan was a nice walk," he said reproachfully, "not highway robbery."

"You got to admit, she's affective," Eric grinned, deciding that even if she wasn't his sister, he did love this woman's style.

"You didn't kill him did you?" Frank asked as he looked at the dark bruise forming on the man's temple.

"No," Miranda looked at him as she slipped into the driver's seat of the car, "he'll be asleep for a couple of hours."

Frank gave her a look, "you couldn't do this to that plumber who tried to overcharge us two months ago?"  He asked as he slipped into the seat next to her. 

"It would lose something in the translation," Miranda retorted and looked over her shoulder to ensure that the rest of her companions had climbed into the car.

"This is not seemingly," Elladan remarked as he found himself sandwiched between Elrohir and Eric while Jason had tumbled into the back of the station wagon and had stretched out comfortably.  The younger son of Elrond Peredhil did not think it appropriate that he ought to be party to stealing some helpless bystander's vehicle. "That man has done us no harm."

"Relax," Miranda replied as she slipped the car into gear and wished inwardly that it were an automatic since it would make navigating these streets a good deal easier, "he's probably insured."

"I do not understand," Elrohir returned with understandable confusion.

"It means he'll be compensated for the loss of his car," Frank explained as best as he could. "We could get into trouble with the police you know," he turned back to Miranda," the last thing we need is the Nazgul and the authorities chasing us."

"I wouldn't worry," Miranda returned as the car starting moving, "its not like he can call anybody to report it missing."

"She's got a point," Jason sang out.

Miranda shook her head as the debate continued, thinking silently to herself.

Men.

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

Looking out the window, it felt as if they were imprisoned at the highest peak of a great castle. Beneath them were undulating hills of green, forming a valley that surrounded a river so blue that it seemed painted almost. The sky was a canvas of similar beauty, a cruel taunt to the two boys who trapped indoors, unable to experience the heat of its sunshine against their skin. It beckoned them from beyond the glass, whispering its words of freedom and comfort and yet remained maddeningly beyond their reach.

Sam looked through the glass and knew that somewhere in that beauty, his parents were searching desperately for him and his brother. He could feel it in his bones, giving him the strength to prevail despite the fear that threatened to consume his young body whole like a tasty morsel disappearing down the gullet of some dark beast. He was afraid but he dared not feel it.  He looked over his shoulder at Pip who was lying on the bed, scrunched up on his side like a baby.  They had never spent a single night away from their parents and now it was more than a day since they had seen either.  Pip was taking it very hard and it was a fear worsened by the fact that they both knew what had taken them away was not quite human, that they were gripped in events steeped in dark magic where they were powerless.

Footsteps outside the locked door of their spacious but inescapable prison forced Sam away from the window and Pip to sit up straight on the bed.  Hours ago, they had been deposited into this room by a woman who had introduced herself to them as Irina wearing a smile Sam knew was merely a facade from her true feelings.  He had seen something in her eyes as she looked at him, a flicker of predatory interest that made his skin crawl.  Her words had escaped her like syrup, smooth and lingering but their substance felt tainted somehow.  When she had left them, he was glad and felt the tightness in his chest evaporate.  Now that he heard her approach, the same anxiety returned.

“She’s coming back,” Pip looked at him fearfully.

“They can’t hurt us,” Sam hurried to his brother’s side and took Pip’s hand in his as they sat on the bed, waiting for the inevitably opening of the door.  “They want something from dad.”

“What?” Pip stared at him in question.

“I don’t know,” Sam said honestly. Their abductors’ words in the car had been hard enough to understand with Sam being grateful that he had learnt as much as he did. However, Pip’s question was the only thing that Sam could not decipher. The words used were beyond his understanding and Sam had given up trying because he learnt enough to be certain that they were both safe for the moment. “Something important I think.”

Pip was about to open his mouth to inquire further when the turning doorknob silenced him and both their eyes turned swiftly to it.  The door opened a moment later, creaking wider apart as their visitors entered the room.  The woman they had seen earlier was leading their abductors in the dark suits past the doorway although there was not as many of them as before. 

Upon catching sight of them, the woman smiled and reinforced Sam’s belief that everything she said to them would be a lie.

“Hello there,” she greeted, her voice was pleasant enough but its intent was lost by the presence of her companions. “I would have thought you too would have caught up on your sleep. After all, you have had a long night.”

“If we were asleep you would have woke us up,” Sam pointed out.

Irina looked at the child that had was the reincarnation of the enemy that had helped to bring David to his complete and utter ruin in the ages of Middle Earth.  She did not know much about this child but suspected that very little escaped him.  Eyes with a keen intellect bore into her even as she approached him and his young brother.  Most likely a trait acquired from his past incarnation as well as some inherited instincts from his mother, whom Irina had acquired all available information about by this time. Once she knew which Miller was related to Bryan, it was not easy to learn everything she could about the family.

The Nazgul claimed that the child was adamant that his mother would come for them. After reading Miranda Miller nee Wynne’s file located from their inside contacts in MI6, it was easy to understand why.  The husband was an academician who probably knew very little about coping in the outside world beyond his field of study and she anticipated little difficulty in getting him to cooperate. However, the mother was an entirely different matter and it did not help that she sensed some trepidation in the Nazgul at her eventual appearance. 

Morgul was determined to kill her but his courage was tempered by vengeance. The others were not so certain they could make the kill without suffering that which they intended to visit upon her. In any case, it was probably best for Irina to conclude her business with Frank Miller and then exterminate them all to prevent further complications.

“That’s very true Sam,” Irina remarked and sauntered over to a chair and sat down near the bed. “Now, you, your brother and I must have a talk.”

“We want to go home,” Sam said abruptly.

“Once your father does what he is told, I will be more than happy to let you go home to them,” Irina lied.

“What do you want him to do?” Pip asked.

“Well,” she learned forward, giving the Nazgul who were standing at the door a little smile before she answered, “your father can get something for me.  When he does, I will release you to him.”

“What is it?” Sam asked suspiciously.

“Nothing that you need worry about,” Irina said smoothly, seeing no reason to let the boy know that his father would be unleashing his future master.  Irina had no intention of releasing any of the children but there was no need for them to know that at this point.  Unlike David, whose experience with children was miniscule if not entirely non-existent, Irina knew something of them and allowing them to believe that they would be returned to their parents would minimize any escape attempt. Still, judging by the bold defiance in the older child's face, Irina was convinced that he bore watching. When David was returned to her, he would be delighted by the gift of one of the Ringbearers for whom he held so much hatred. 

If anything Sam would prove more entertaining because there was so much spirit to break.

"Can we talk to them?" Sam ventured to ask. 

"Not at this time," Irina replied, amused by the child's efforts to gain concessions, no doubt believing it would give him and his brother opportunity to reveal their location to their parents. "There's been a 'problem' in the city where they live and none of the phones are working. I'm sure you'll be able to talk to them soon."

"I don't believe you," he snapped.

"Now it isn't polite to assume that someone whom you just met is a liar," Irina said reproachfully, turning her high-powered gaze at the child. However, if she was expecting him to withdraw, she was soon disappointed.  He stared back at her with open animosity and Irina wondered how it was possible for so much will to exist in a child so young.

"You are lying! You took us from mum and dad. That's a bad thing already, why should we think you wouldn't you lie too?" He challenged her.

Heaven help her, Irina thought as she stared at the boy in light of his vehement response, she could start to like him.

"You shouldn't," Irina answered. "And I don't have to give you an explanation."

With that, she turned on her heels and walked out of the room, the Nazgul following her. 

"You shouldn't have made her angry," Pip declared once she was gone, her departure leaving a chill through their bones.

"She was lying," Sam said petulantly.

"If you keep being bad, they might not let us go," Pip replied with a frown.

"I don't think they'll let us go anyway," Sam answered, still staring at the door.

"But they said…"

"They're lying." Sam stared at his brother. "We have to get out of here on own, somehow."

"But we're high up in the mountains," Pip insisted, his fear so thick that it was choking him.

Sam hugged his brother, hoping the gesture would wipe the anxiety from his face but his hugs did not have the same power as their mother or their father. 

"Pip, we have to get out of here," he said when he pulled away from his brother again. "I don't know how I know but they're not telling us the truth and I think if we stay, it will be very bad."

Pip wanted to understand, truly he did but his brother was speaking to him with an understanding of the situation he could not begin to fathom. However, Sam never lied to him, at least about the true things and he sensed that this was a very true thing that Sam was saying.

"How are we going to do it?" Pip asked after a long moment.

"I don't know," Sam answered, wishing he did have an answer. "But I'm going to think of a way. I think if dad does this thing for them, it will hurt all of us, not just you and me but everyone."

************ 

"The boy is trouble," Morgul hissed as they walked down the hall away from the room where their two prisoners were currently held. "We should kill him now."

"Their parents aren’t fools," Irina paused long enough to say, "before they agree to do anything, they will want confirmation that their sons are alive. Until Frank Miller gets David back for us, we are going to ensure those children remain that way." She cast him a look that revealed her insistence on the matter.

"It is a waste of effort but I will comply for now," Morgul hissed in open dislike to those orders.

Irina paused in the hallway and stared at her reflection in the Nazgul's dark glasses, "it may be prudent to move them below where we can be certain they won't escape."

"They cannot escape now," he retorted. "They are merely children and my brothers and I are more than capable of dealing with them."

Irina chose not to point out the Nazgul had not been terribly efficient about dealing with them when those children had been hobbits making their way across the country with the Master Ring. However, there was no reason to get into another contest of wills with the phantom creature. They had an uneasy alliance borne out of mutual need and despite their obvious dislike for one another, they were united in their common purpose of retrieving David Saeran.  She supposed she could afford to be magnanimous by holding her tongue on what she thought of his capabilities.

"Children can surprise you," Irina returned instead of saying what was really on her mind, "besides, I'll have need of you when we begin our negotiations with Professor Miller."

"He may cooperate but his woman will be coming here," Morgul replied with utter certainty.

"She doesn't even know where we are," Irina retorted. "Even if she did find her way here, which is unlikely, I seriously doubt she'll be any match for what we have waiting her and her children down below."

"She is far more formidable than you give her credit," Morgul met Irina's gaze.

"I am perfectly aware what she is," Irina retorted. "However, you may be correct in this instance. Miranda Miller nee Wynne is formerly of MI6, This information reached us by way of the contact we still have in the intelligence community. Officially retired after her marriage to Frank Miller, brother of Bryan, which is undoubtedly how they met.  Our agents could not retrieve the specifics of her missions because she was apparently a deep cover operative but the combat training for female agents is no less rigorous than it is for the males. That is why we need to move quickly, if we act fast, we will give them no chance to make any foolhardy efforts at rescue, even if there is a chance of her finding us here.

Morgul was forced to concede her reasoning was sound though he wanted the chance to face the shield maiden again. She had surprised him with typical human resilience, a quality that had caused him to be captured unawares by more than one instance in the past.  There was a time when he was human too but that day was so far in the past, he barely remembered it at all. The only vestiges of that previous existence, before he had been called to serve the Master, was his name and he was convinced beyond that, his humanity had little else value.

“Let her come,” Morgul replied with no small feeling of hatred for his nemesis. “The time of prophecy is done, this time I will kill her.”

“I’m sure you will,” Irina answered, not really caring about his personal vendettas, “but not until we finish what we have to do.” She glared at him. “All that matters is the retrieval of David, is that clear?”

“You need not remind me of my loyalties to my Master,” Morgul hissed back, incensed by her audacity to think that Sauron’s welfare would be impeded by his thirst for vengeance. “I served him before you were even conceived in the mind of your ancestors. I will serve him long after you are dead and certainly after he tires of you.”

Irina stiffened at the insult, “that may be but you will serve nothing if he is not returned to us and to do that we need all the pieces on the board, even Miranda Miller. Whatever personal desires you may have in this matter can wait but bear in mind that as long as we have her children, you can be assured of getting your confrontation eventually.”

“That is acceptable,” Morgul answered, deciding that he would live for the day when Sauron tired of this human and he was allowed to kill her. He would have already done so if not for the fact that his master had some connection to this female and could possibly be distressed by her passing.  Even if he did not feel that way, Sauron did not like his possessions harmed without his saying so and this female, despite her posturing, was undoubtedly that.

“Good,” Irina replied. “We should move the children below immediately. I don’t know how much time we have but it won’t be long before their parents begin to regroup. You say there are elves in their company?”

“Yes,” Morgul nodded, “I think they may be the children of the Peredhil.”

“The Peredhil?” She looked at him.

“The Master of Imladris, Elrond,” he explained. “He is an elven lord of considerable healing skills and power. His sons were companions of the Dunedain, Isildur’s heir.  They are formidable in battle and they will undoubtedly know our ways. Their father’s realm was westward of here but I doubt that they would suspect us being here.”

Irina shook her head in frustration. She loved David, she truly did but she had to wonder the wisdom of both him and his master, John Malcolm in establishing their places of power in locations that were known to them in Middle earth. Though almost as formidable as their hideout in Romania, she knew David had chosen this place for his Germanic residence because the Harz mountains were what were left of the mountain range he once knew to be Misty Mountains.

“They found us in Romania,” she countered. “They knew it was Mordor.”

“Olorin was in their presence,” Morgul replied, still smarting at their utter failure to protect their master during that occasion. “A maia of Manwe has considerable power, these elves do not. There will not be a repeat of what has taken place before. In the depths below, the Uruks will ensure that the children will be guarded and should their mother find a way to reach them, their reunion will be brief.”

“I hope you’re right,” she muttered under her breath, “if we lose this chance. It will never come again.”

***********

From inside the station wagon across the street, Frank Miller stared at the tower of glass and steel that was the Malcolm Industries' headquarters in Oslo. Despite the fact that the Silmaril had brought the city to a virtual standstill, it appeared that this was not the case for the corporate front of the Nazguls' master. A few cars were parked in the front parking lot that did not appeared to have been damaged by the energy wave that had made all others in the city useless as transportation.  Frank suspected that these might have come from beyond the blast radius of the wave, to bring supplies and components for destroyed electronics. Whatever the reason, it ensured that there would be someone there to answer their questions about the company.

"Are we sure we want to do this?" Jason asked as he saw many of the men walking in and out of that room were carrying guns. These were undoubtedly security people brought into protect the building from looters. Considering the damage they had seen as they drove to the city center, it was not an unreasonable precaution when they had seen so many shop fronts broken into during the blackout by unscrupulous individuals taking advantage of the disaster.

"We need information," Frank said without looking at the younger man peering over the top of the back seat from the rear compartment of the vehicle.  "This is the fastest way."

"They're not simply going to answer our questions you know," Eric pointed out skeptically. He understood Frank and Miranda's determination to retrieve their children but this did not seem like the best way to go about doing it.

"They will if you know whom to ask," Miranda answered coldly reloading her gun once more. She had only a few spare shells left, not enough to fill the magazine but enough to ensure she could do what was needed.

"What exactly is your plan Miranda?" Elladan asked, preferring to be more constructive since it was obvious that the woman was thinking two steps ahead of everyone else.

"I'm going to go in there and find out who knows about the Nazgul and where they might have taken Sam and Pip."

"And if they don't tell us?" Eric looked at her.

"Then I shall proceed to break every bloody bone in their bodies," she said before climbing out of the car leaving a noticeable silence.

"Well," Elrohir said after a moment, not knowing what else to say, "I suppose that is some sort of plan."

Frank shook his head and jumped out of the car after his wife, uncertain at this new side of her. In truth, he had always suspected what she did for a living before entering his life to play the part of wife and mother.  Existing in the place between suspecting and knowing for certain had given Frank some measure of comfort. He regarded his brother in the same when it came to what Bryan did in his professional life.  However, since this nightmare had been thrust upon them, the woman who had loved him the past decade, who had raised his children with gentle if somewhat possessive intensity was transforming into someone else and he could not deny that this new persona was rather intimidating.

"Miranda," he called out as he hastened his pace to join her.  Behind him he could hear the others making similar moves. "We are not going in there 'guns blazing' so to speak."

"We can't play it safe this time Frank," she retorted, continuing across the street towards the building. "We have to get them back and now."

"We will," Frank insisted, "but going in there and playing the thug will accomplish nothing but put us on the most wanted list and that won't help the boys."

"They won't give it us any other way," Miranda declared.

"Miranda, stop," Frank grabbed her by the arm and forced her to look at him. "Those people in there most likely have no idea who is running their company. Most of them are security people and maintenance workers. I want to go in there and find out what other holdings they have. Wherever they're keeping the boys, its not in corporate headquarters like this.  Also I want to find out who have been running things if David Saeran is presently in Valinor under house arrest. We find that person and we can find our children."

Miranda could not deny his words but she also knew deep inside that negotiation with these creatures was not possible. In her time she had met evil men who had no aid from the supernatural to make them what they were, just an in grained darkness that gave them a contempt for all other things. She knew how to predict their action because evil twisted one into familiar patterns of behavior and the Nazgul despite their powers and their inability to die were no different. She knew what they were about even if she did not understand how they could exist.  She knew their fanaticism and their hatred; it was no different that of any crazed bomber who was prepared to die for his god. The only difference in this case was that the Nazgul's god was not some non-existence incorporeal entity whose existence would never be proven to any satisfaction but rather a dark lord encased in human flesh.

She loved Frank and his acumen but he had never met people like this and had no experience with understanding how they would act.

"Frank, they'll kill the boys no matter what we do," she said quietly.

He met her gaze with just as much understanding, "I know."

Miranda's brow arched.  "How do you know?"

"I know because we're never going to convince these Valar to hand over Saeran," he said with absolute certainty in his eyes. "Elladan and Elrohir haven't said as much but I can see it in their eyes."

"But we have the jewel…" Miranda started to say but Frank cut her off.

"We have a jewel that's been buried under the snow for the last one hundred thousand years, that the enemy can't do a thing with.  In fact, unless you're an elf or a Valar, it’s a very pretty bauble that will burn your hand off the minute you tried to do anything. Oh I'm certain they'd like it back but not enough to unleash a monster like Saeran into the world again.  He almost destroyed this entire planet six months ago if Byran and his friends hadn't stopped him.  They're not going to release him so that he can come into this world to do it again, not for two boys."

Miranda wanted to protest, to say that these 'gods' that Elladan and Elrohir worshipped would not be so callous as to ignore the plight of Sam and Pip but she knew Frank was right. When she was in the service, it was an unpleasant reality that people had to be sacrificed for the greater good, even civilians who had done nothing to warrant such brutality. How many times has they watched the news to learn of the terrorist funded building that was bombed, even though it was highly possible that the janitorial or the maintenance staff had no terrorist aspirations and were simply doing a job when they were in the building. They had been sacrificed for the purpose of expediency and if Frank were right about these Valar, then it would be equally prudent for them to wash their hands of the situation.  The lives of two children against the fate of the world mattered little.

Except to her and Frank.

"Oh god…" she stammered.

"We're going to get them back," Frank said before her nerve crumbled. He hated to put things to her so starkly but Miranda had to know what was at stake. "If I have to make the exchange, I'll do it just to buy time but only so that you can get to the boys. You know I always knew you were strong and brave but I never knew how much until now. You were amazing, Mir," he replied with no small amount of awe in his eyes as he spoke, "when I saw you face up to that Nazgul, I never felt so lucky in my life that you're my wife. We'll get through this together Miranda and we'll get out children back, I promise you that."

Miranda swallowed thickly, wondering how it was possible for him to make her feel so safe even when she was frightened out of her mind. Frank's words had made her face up to possibilities that had been nagging at the back of her thoughts, fears she had not wanted to confront until now. However, he was right, they had to go into this knowing the agenda of those around them. There would be no help from these Valar even when Frank made his way across the sea to plead for the exchange. Ultimately, rescuing their children was their responsibility alone and they did not have a great deal of time to act.

By this time the others had reached them at the sidewalk although Frank suspected they might have lagged behind a little to allow he and Miranda to talk. Now that was accomplished, it was time to get moving.

"Let me do the talking when we get in," Eric said upon reaching them.

"Really?" Jason looked at the newsman.

"Yeah," Eric retorted, "I have plans too you know."

"But they mostly involve women you're planning on…"

"Will you trust me?" Eric barked before Jason could finish that sentence. "Look, I can get us in past the front doors at least. Can you translate if they don't understand English?" He looked at Frank.

"Marginally," Frank replied, "what do you want to do?"

"Exploit the human need to be on television," Eric grinned and took the lead.

"What?" Elrohir stared at the others in question.

"We'll explain later," Jason replied rolling his eyes and hurried to join his partner.

***********

The interior of the Malcolm branch in Oslo was exactly what would expect from a multi-billion dollar corporation. The building had not escaped the ravages of the previous night's catastrophe as evidenced by the broken glass and debris in the main foyer. It was clear that looters had smashed their way through the main entrance and had attempted to breach the upper levels of the building. Fortunately, the loss of power to the lifts, not to mention the locked doors had prevented any real damage from being done.  Maintenance crews and security personnel were zigzagging across the floor, all armed with satellite phones that were not limited were local network cells that cellular phones needed to operate. They were going about the business of clearing the damage as well as establishing interim security systems while the power was disabled.

Eric had not taken more than a dozen steps inside the building when he was suddenly confronted by a very large blond behemoth named Johan Richards as revealed by the nametag on his uniform. Judging by the way he marched imperiously towards them, Eric deduced immediately that the man was a security guard of some description although the weapon he wore at his hip was evidence enough of this already. Eric glanced over his shoulder long enough to indicate to Frank and the others that he would handle this. Hopefully Johan here would understand English because the ruse would lose all its flair if delivered through a translator. 

"You speak English mate?" He asked the man, stepping up with a casual smile. 

"I speak English," the man responded hesitantly, off balanced by his inability to demand of these strangers their purpose for being in the building at this time. 

"Eric Rowan from Channel Nine News, Sydney," Eric greeted, extending a hand out and presenting his press card before turning to Jason. "You better have a look around the place and decide what you need, these people don't need us getting under their feet, do they? This is my news crew, they just need to look about and get a feel for what equipment we'll need. Got to work fast if we want to make the news back home," he fired at Johan who could only stare back in rising confusion.

"News?" He stammered.

"Yeah," Eric replied walking past him and surveying the place as Jason did the same, only in an opposite direction. "I must say its chaos all over the city Johan, news crews are flying in from all over the world. I was here to do a magazine show myself about the bloody fjords so I'm pretty lucky to get in ground up. Now were you here when the wave hit?"

"No," Johan muttered, his mind struggling to grasp the situation he was suddenly embroiled. "I was at home."

"Just as well," Eric retorted walking towards a shattered window, "it looks like it got pretty messy. Now, this is what I'll need. I figure a human interest angle to the catastrophe would be the best way to go. I'll need to talk to everyone who was here.  You look like you know the ins and outs of this company so if you could round them up, I'd much appreciate it. Also, I think I'd like to focus on you as the main crux of the story. My cameraman will follow you about during your survey of the wreckage, give the folks at home a chance to see things from your point of view, what do you think?"

"Me?" Johan was suitably flabbergasted by now.

"Of course you," Eric crossed the distance between them and patted the huge man on the shoulder. "You're the unsung hero of this entire place, the one who holds things together and makes sure that people keep their heads in crisis situation. That's what we want people to see. You will be the strong face of this tragedy. Now I know that your own countrymen will be after you for their local news but I am authorized by Channel Nine to pay you a generous fee if you let us have first crack. What do you think Jason?"

"I think we need a bit more light here," he glanced at Frank and the others, "what do you think?"

"I guess so," Frank answered, almost as mystified as Johan by Eric's words and the manner in which he delivered it, which was so utterly phony that it could only be interpreted as genuine and sincere. Fortunately, Johan did not look to be very intelligent and Eric obviously had more than ample experience manipulating public response. 

"We'll need a couple of more spots in here, there's not a lot of natural light thanks to the light being shorted out," Jason added, giving Frank the impression this was not the first time the duo had used this particular trick to get into restricted places. 

"That's fine," Eric agreed, not missing his cue in this hastily crafted play, "now Johan, we're going to have to take a look at the upper levels. My people need to know what kind of equipment we'll need. If you could let us go upstairs while you round up the people who were here, I'd appreciate it." 

It appeared that by this time Johan had developed some measure of composure and had presence of mind enough to remark, "I will have to clear this with my superiors." 

"Fine, fine," Eric said dismissively, "and while you're doing that, my people can get to work so that you can do what I ask when you do get your clearance. Look, the news business doesn't wait for anyone and I don't have time to waste. Suffice to say my boss Kerry Packer and David Saeran are golfing buddies so I don't think there will too much of a bother." 

Eric glanced at the others to remain close to him as he started moving towards the door. There was just enough indecision in the man's face to convince Eric that he would allow them access.  Miranda followed without question, bringing with her Frank and the elves as Johan went to the staircase that was barred to them by a heavy steel door, fumbling with a set of shiny keys. There was still some measure of reluctance on his face but Eric's spiel had been delivered convincingly enough for him to give them access to the rest of the building.  Eric's face revealed nothing he waited for Johan to open the door.  Miranda was suitably impressed at how good an actor he was a supposed that it was a necessary trait of his profession. 

When the door opened, Eric launched once more into his act, not about to rouse suspicion when they were so close to what they needed. 

"Okay Johan," Eric grinned, "now when you get clearance from your people, don't forget to gather everyone in the lobby. I want to start taking notes for the interviews straight away.  Miranda, do you think he'll need some make up work?" He asked her. 

With a perfectly manufactured smile, Miranda glanced briefly at Johan, before answering; "he's impressive the way he is but I may need to touch his coloring a little." 

"Excellent," Eric answered and started to the open door, "see you in awhile Johan." 

With that, all six of them disappeared into the darkened staircase, leaving one very confused security guard to go find a satellite phone in order to reach their Paris Headquarters. 

********** 

"I am impressed," Elladan said as they made their way up the staircase a short time later, "I do not recall Eomer of Rohan being so adept at deception." 

"Thanks," Eric glanced over his shoulder as he struggled to see inside the darkened staircase that was really the fire stairs. "Like I said never underestimate the human need to take center stage. Most security guards I might are usually ex-police or something like that, people who are used to being in charge and like being in charge if you get what I mean. Their narcissism lends easily to exploitation." 

"I'll take your word for it," Frank replied, grateful for any method that did not employ gunfire at this stage. 

"Thanks for making me the bloody makeup girl you sexist twit," Miranda grumbled. 

"Well if you were my sister in a previous life, I'm just making up for lost time," Eric said cockily through the darkness. "Besides, isn't it a brother's duty to make your life hell?" 

"That is for certain," Elladan replied. 

Elrohir snorted, "in that case it is time I told you that you are adopted." 

"We are twins," Elladan reminded. 

"There is no proof of that," his sibling countered. "All I know is that on the day I was born, you were there. We don't even look like twins.  Father is very eccentric, he probably found you discarded somewhere and took pity on you by surprising mother. After several hours of labor, who could tell where you came from?" Elrohir smirked devilishly. 

"Well that answers that," Miranda declared through the darkness. 

"What?" Frank asked, somewhat bemused by the twin's bickering. 

"That men are idiots no matter how old they are." 

*********** 

There is a place beneath the world so deep and forgotten that most do not believe it exists. In your heart, you know it does, like you know that souls are sometimes trapped in trees and evil finds the hearts of children the most fertile place to breed. There are things that you know despite what you have learnt, despite what books and science tells you.  You know it by instinct and by senses you cannot name but feel in every pore of your being.   Just like you know that heaven and hell exists and there is real reason to fear it. It exists in the way you live your life, in the adherence to morality as more than just acceptable behavior but at the real fear of being accountable when the dusk of your life finally claims you. 

In his heart, Sam knew this place existed just like he knew that the Black Riders were real.  In his mind's eye and revealed to him only by dreams, he had seen it. There was a memory somewhere inside him, buried as deeply as this place was hidden in the depths of the world, that would explain it all but he had no way to access those important facts and so he was clambering in a darkness, almost as consuming as the place he was being taken to beneath the castle. 

Sam knew he had been here before but how he knew, he could not say. 

He felt Pip's fingers clenched within his, unable to ignore the shaking in his brother's hands. As they descended into the darkness, feeling the depths swallow them whole like the whale that had taken Pinocchio into its gullet, he knew Pip was near terrified out of his mind. Sam was no different but he was better at hiding it than his younger brother. The Nazgul that escorted them into this nightmare seemed oblivious to their deteriorating state of mind but Sam was certain that any fear displayed by either child would be a reason for him to gloat.   Sam would not allow him that satisfaction. 

"Where are they taking us?" Pip stammered through his tears. 

"Nowhere," Sam replied, "they're just trying to frighten us." 

"We're going down so deep," Pip replied as he stared upward at the disappearing pinprick of light that was the surface. 

When they had stepped into the lift, Sam had thought little of it except to find it curious that it was more like a mesh cage than its counterparts in most buildings. They had traveled downwards for many minutes, surrounded by a shaft that allowed them to see nothing. What light there was came from the illumination of a small service light at the top of the shaft. It was when the light almost disappeared that Sam saw the shaft disappearing and they began descending what seemed to be an enormous cavern. How far beneath the earth he could not say but he felt cold and it was a cold that was very different from the temperatures of Norway.  

The chill of ice pierced the walls of his heart the way it would pierce the skin. While he maintained his composure, Pip had lost control of his and his brother had started to weep as they continued downwards, suspended by wires and pulleys that lowered them further and further into this alien realm. The air smelt bad. It turned Sam's stomach because he could scent the stench of things rotten and dying. It reminded him of rotting leaves or worse. He began to imagine that all the bodies that were ever put into graves eventually found its place here.  The thought alone almost destroyed his sanity. 

And yet there was something about this place that felt terribly familiar. 

He could not understand why, but he knew he had been here before even though it was impossible. A place like, he would remember.  More than ever, he wished his mother and father were here, he wished it not only for himself but also for Pip. 

"Where are we going?" Sam finally braved the question of the Nazgul.  For Pip's sake alone, they needed an answer. 

"Where you cannot escape," the Nazgul hissed. Sam turned away and swallowed, seeing nothing below but darkness and feeling this soul-crushing well of despair at realizing that the Nazgul was right. As Pip's tears grew in intensity, Sam began to realize that it may well be that neither of them would ever see mum or dad again.

There was really no escape from this place.

Part Ten
The Malcolm Building

While Eric and Jason had been performing their play to the helpless Johan, Frank had been carefully studying the building directory, trying to discern where would be the best place to find the information they sought regarding the hierarchy of Malcolm Industries.

It did not take him long to note the location of the branch director's office on the upper floors of the building and upon sourcing that information, filed it away until such time they were able to pursue it.  Frank also took stock of how many security guards were on the lower floor and how well armed they were.  He noticed that Miranda was also making similar observations and was once again struck by how much he did not know about this wife. 

For so long, her past had been her secret to keep, he saw no reason to intrude. He knew some of it was painful which was why he did not insist upon her telling him.  However, the last day had made him realize that there was a phantom that existed beneath the visage of wife, mother and lover that could emerge at a moment’s notice when needed and take control of the woman he had come to love these past years. He did not fear this new aspect of her but he did wonder how much else she had hidden away from him. When this was all over, Frank resolved himself to tell Miranda that he loved her and everything that she was, even the parts that could be somewhat intimidating.

“Where are we going?” Eric asked as they hurried up the stairs, determined to put as much distance between themselves and Johan the security guard who would eventually come to his senses about their reason for being in the building.

“Top floor,” Frank sand out further down the staircase.

“What’s there?” Jason asked, not relishing the climb but seeing that they had no other choice.

“The branch director’s office,” Frank declared, “if anyone knows about whose running this company now that Saeran is gone, it should be him.”

“I hope you’re right,” Miranda retorted, “because once they find out we’re not from Channel Nine News, they’re going to be coming after us with guns blazing and I don’t have the firepower to stop them.”

“Your optimism is scary,” Eric grumbled. “Was she like this back then too?” He asked the twins, panting slightly as they left the lower levels behind and began to feel the strain of their ascent.

“I did not know the Lady Eowyn well,” Elladan confessed sincerely and it was the truth. He had met Eowyn during the few times he had been at the court of Gondor, when his visits coincided with that of the lady and her husband, the Prince of Ithilien. She was a great friend to Arwen when his sister had become queen and then there was of course her fame as the warrior maiden who had vanquished the Witch King.  “ However, I do recall hearing the gossip regarding her and Estel when he arrived in Rohan during the War of the Ring.”

“Gossip?” Miranda’s voice rose an octave.

“Yes,” Elladan sniggered, wondering whether or not he should be making these revelations and then deciding that it could do no harm since the present incarnations of their friends felt only a fragmentary connection to the people they had once been, “apparently Eowyn had feelings for Estel.”

“Legolas has a big mouth,” Elrohir retorted aware of where that morsel of news had come and thinking that it was not prudent to make such comments when there was every possibility that Miranda could one day meet Aaron Stone.

“Who is Legolas?” Frank had to ask.

“A very pretty elf,” Elladan replied, the darkness hiding the smirk on his face.

“So who was this Estel?” Miranda asked with some measure of curiosity regarding her former self’s past infatuations.  Besides, talk of the past however, improbable it still felt to her, made her forget about the present and the children who were lost to her.

“Wasn’t he one of the Fellowship guys?” Jason declared, remembering what the twins had told them earlier about Sauron, the Master Ring and the quest to destroy the thing. 

“Your memory serves you well,” Elrohir answered back, “yes, we called him Estel for that was his name when he dwelt with us in Imlardis but his true name was Aragorn.”

Frank did not know that he liked the idea of Miranda having another love in her life, even if it was from a past life of a hundred thousand years ago.  However, he kept that bit of jealousy to himself and supposed he was being worried for nothing since this Aragorn person no longer existed.

“So what happened?” Miranda inquired, “She found out he was married or something?” She remarked offhandedly as romantic scandals often involved such complications.

“Engaged actually,” Elladan answered, wondering if women had some insight that allowed them to make these leaps so accurately.

Miranda rolled her eyes, “typical.”

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

It took them another ten minutes before they made their way to the very last floor of the tall building. Considering the time taken and the number of floors they had to pass to reach their final destination, it could be said that they had made their journey in good time. However, with the exceptions of the elves, the humans needed a moment to catch their breaths when they finally reached the top. The elves were rather bemused by the deterioration of human stamina, remembering how Aragorn used to travel most places on foot during the days of Middle earth and the hobbits were happily doing the same across the Shire barefoot. 

“I hope this is worth it,” Eric grumbled as he took deep breaths as they emerged in the shadowy hallway.

Except for the natural light coming through the tinted windows, the building was devoid of any other illumination. Stale air remained trapped in the spaces between walls, heightening the smell of carpet and dust.  Despite the cool temperatures outside, it felt balmy as they made their way down the corridor, following the small directory plaque near the lift doors.  Frank took the lead since it was his idea to begin with, urgency dogging his steps as Miranda’s warning about the security guards loomed heavily on his thoughts.  In truth, he had no idea whether or not this plan of finding the person in charge of Malcolm Industries now would help them in their search for Sam and Pip but at the time, it was all he could think off. Miranda had desperately needed to believe they had some plan to recover the boys.

Frank could not deny that he felt terribly out of depth with everything that was happening and worst yet, it seemed that everyone was looking to him for answers. Perhaps it was because he had stepped up to assume it in his efforts to comfort Miranda but it was not a role he relished. Nothing that was happening seemed remotely possible to him and yet a scientist had to rely on what could be proven and unfortunately the Silmaril had erased any doubt in his mind as to what Elladan and Elrohir were claiming. It put everything he knew into question and through these murky waters, he was expected to navigate in order to find some way of helping Sam and Pip.

He could just kill Bryan for this.

He knew that he was being irrational, that his brother had tried to save him and that when he had time to think of it, his anger would fade. However, at the moment, he wanted to throttle his brother for bringing him into this mythic world, a world that he could never turn his back upon now that he knew its existence. Frank did not reveal it to the twins but now that he knew that the history of the world was not at all what he had been lead to believe, there was a burning need for him to understand how it had come about in reality.  He wanted to see the books these elvish people must have accumulated over time; he wanted to understand their language and their culture because they were the living witnesses to the origins of man. Even if the human race sprang from a place called Hildorien and not Africa, as he had always believed, Frank wanted to study this truth for himself.

“Here it is,” Frank exclaimed when the corridor they reached emptied into a larger room where a desk obviously belonging to a secretary was positioned outside the door with a polished brass plaque. Frank was grateful that he could read some Norwegian. He had always had a gift for learning languages quickly and his time in Oslo had nurtured that talent further.

“Samuel Mueller,” Frank announced reading the name. 

“Well let’s see what Samuel has to tell us,” Miranda asked moving past him to enter the room first.

The interior of the absent Mr. Mueller’s office was quite spacious and large. The outer walls of his office were glass and allowed them all a brilliant and spectacular view of the city.  The sun blazed through the thick glass as the blinds to shield the room from the glare had been drawn back. Obviously Mr. Mueller worked late and liked the view of the city at night because it would have been rather difficult to work in such bright light during the day.  An expensive desk containing an equally impressive Apple computer sat against the glass wall.  Other pieces of furniture including a small mini-bar, a leather sofa and an entertainment unit complete with television and audio equipment made up Mr. Mueller’s very luxurious but corporate workspace.

“There’s a filing cabinet over there,” Eric remarked first. As someone who was used to scrounging for information, he was the most adept at finding what they needed.

“What are we searching for?” Elladan asked, uncertain about this course of action.

“We’re trying to find any proof of who is running Malcolm Industries,” Eric explained as he crossed the floor and reached the squat two-drawer cabinet.  “If we can find out who, we may be able to find out where.”

“It’s a pity there’s no power,” Frank frowned as he slid into Mr. Mueller’s chair and stared at the blank computer screen, “I’ll bet what we need to find will be in here.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Eric replied as he pulled the drawer open. “These corporate types like to keep hard copies of everything.  Billion dollar companies can get into a lot of strife if they lose documentation in cyberspace. I wouldn’t be surprised if everything on this computer is backed up in paper somewhere.”

“These devices,” Elrohir stared at them, “we have seen many of them since our arrival here. When Aaron and my sister returned to Valinor from their lands, they brought one of these.  It showed us a great deal of images from your world. Aaron tells us that it connects your world from one end of the globe to another. I would like to understand how.”

“I’d be glad to explain it to you,” Jason replied, having studied electronics from his time in the army. “When we have some time.”

“Keep looking, I’m going to take a look around. If those security guards come looking for us, we’ll need to find another way off this floor?” Miranda declared as she started towards the door.

“We will accompany you,” Elladan offered, “there is little we can contribute here.”

Elrohir seemed to agree and the three left the room a moment later, leaving Frank, Eric and Jason to ransack the room for information. Eric seemed oblivious to their departure as he pulled out a stack of files and handed it to Jason who immediately began thumbing through the leaves of paper within the manila folders.   However once their footsteps faded into the distance, Eric turned to Frank.

“How are you two doing?” The newsman asked much to Frank’s surprise.

“What do you mean?” Frank returned, somewhat taken back by the question.

“How are you holding up?” Eric repeated himself, certain that Frank would catch his meaning eventually.

The realization dawned on the archaeologist an instant later as he understood Eric was referring to the loss of Sam and Pip.  “We’re okay,” Frank swallowed thickly, feeling a fresh stab of pain at being forced to remember the point of their search.  “Keeping our minds on what we need to do is helping, Miranda especially.”

“She’s their mother,” Jason added. “Mums feel it more I guess.”

“Perhaps,” Frank turned away and focussed on the papers in a tray at the corner of Mueller’s desk. “But don’t underestimate how hard it is for dads either. The only reason I can think at all is because my boys need me to hold myself together.  I feel just as gutted as my wife I assure you.”

“I didn’t mean...”Jason started to apologize, feeling a little embarrassed that he had thought Frank’s pain would be any less.

“I know,” Frank said quickly, halting his words before he could finish the sentence. “We’re alright,” he assured both Eric and Jason, “and we’ll stay that way for as long as its needed. We’re getting our children back.”

“Bloody oath,” Eric nodded in agreement. “We’ll find them.”

He had never met these children but his feelings for Miranda made him feel just as protective of them as he felt towards their mother. He did not understand why he could feel so deeply for her when all he had were the word of two elves regarding their relationship.  However, Eric could not deny he liked the idea of being a brother and an uncle. If being either had any power to help, he was more than happy to be there for Frank and Miranda.

“Any luck?” Frank asked, clearing his throat as he returned his mind to the business at hand.

“Not much,” Eric frowned, “most of this stuff is written in Norwegian unfortunately. What is in English are mostly memos and things, directives from the London or the Paris office. More Paris than London actually.”

“True,” Jason remarked looking up from the folder he was perusing, “most of the London documentation predate six months ago.  The newer correspondence comes from the Paris office.”

“Yes,” Frank sat up in his chair and paid closer attention to the papers in Mueller’s in and out trays.  “The more recent paperwork has the Paris letterhead,” he commented. “Where did Saeran work from do you know?”  He looked up at them. “Paris or London?”

“London,” Eric said automatically, “if I’m not mistaken he has an estate close to the city.  After the destruction of the corporate center in New York, all business was moved to the London office.”

“And now its in Paris,” Frank declared, their mutual train of thought arriving at the same destination. “Go through the Paris papers,” he instructed quickly, “see if there’s a name there.”

“We need computer access,” Jason grumbled, staring at the machine that was useless as long as the city was entrenched in this power blackout. “Christ knows what he’s got stored in this thing.”

"This will have to do," Frank retorted, understanding Jason's sentiments but they had to work for what was within their reach at the present moment.

“Frank,” Eric said as he skimmed through the more recent documents from Paris, “do you keep coming across an Irina Sadko?”

“Yes,” Frank turned to him sharply before reaching for the nearest pile of papers, where he had seen the name.  Leafing through the papers, it did not take him long to locate it. “Here it is,” he sat up straighter in his chair as he read out the contents, “this is a memo from the Paris branch authorizing the purchase of some new property here in Oslo, its signed Irina Sadko. It doesn’t give her title though.”

“Same here,” Eric returned as he looked at his own batch of papers and discovered the same, “doesn’t say who she is but she’s approving new acquisitions, requisition orders and is apparently dictating company policy.  She doesn’t get to make these kinds of decisions unless she’s pretty high up in the food chain.”

“So let’s find her,” Jason declared. “If she’s making policy, she might be close to who we’re looking for or may actually be the one in charge.”

“Sadko,” Eric mused, sounding the name at the tip of his tongue. “Sounds Russian.”

“Probably is,” Frank agreed. “We need to get to a working computer with net access,” he added. “These companies always have web sites with listings of their personnel. We might be able to find out where she is that way.”

"We'll need to get out of the country, or at least beyond the radius of the wave," Eric declared to know one in particular. 

Frank was about to answer when his words were suddenly silenced by the inevitable eruption of gunfire.

***********

Like any office floor, the upper most level of the Malcolm Building in Oslo contained two fire exits and a lift that was presently disabled thanks to the power blackout that had engulfed the entire city.  As Miranda and the twins made their way through the corridors, seeking an alternate means if their ruse to enter the building was discovered before they could leave it, there was every indication that the building had been hastily evacuated following the energy wave created by the Simaril. For the moment at least, the way seemed clear for them to make a swift departure if necessary. However, Miranda could feel time pressing against her spine, certain that despite Johan's lest than academic manner, the security guard would pursue Eric's story of they being a news team with permission to enter the premises.   Malcolm Industries would not doubt correct that misrepresentation and they would need to get out of here quickly.

She tried to imagine, as they inspected the silent rooms, what it must have been for the workers in this part of the building to be confronted with blackening monitor screens, computers suddenly dying, telephone conversations cut short as the switchboard system lost all calls, the loss of lights and other small catastrophes. Papers were on the floor, filing cabinets left half open. Some had left their belongings behind as evidence by coats and briefcases perched on top of desks.  Miranda did not speak. She rarely did when her mind was set for this sort of action. When she was training in the SAS, she had learnt that silence was golden.  Unnecessary chatter even if seemingly benign surroundings could get you killed.  The twins seemed to understand this and she wondered in their times, how many wars had they fought, how many lives they had taken. They had hunter's eyes, she knew that from the instant she met them but now that there were more than houseguest but rather allies in a dark and sinister situation, she wondered what their true capabilities were.

"The area is secure," she said after long last. "We're alone up here," she added lowering her gun.

"That is for certain," Elladan nodded, wondering where she had been schooled in the arts of stealth and combat.  There was no doubt in his mind that she was a warrior in her own right, for she regarded her situation with the same intensity that Elladan had come to know from Bryan.

"Tell me," Elrohir looked at her, mirroring his brother's unspoken thoughts, "what were you before your marriage?"

Miranda looked up at him, her brows knotting at the question, "why do you ask?"

"You carry a weapon with exceeding familiarity and when we fought the Nazgul, you were able to hold your own against the enemy."

"I wasn't always a housewife," Miranda remarked as she began making her way back to Frank and the others. Hopefully the trio would have found what they needed to by now and they could all leave this place and make some definitive progress in finding Sam and Pip.  Although she understood the need for caution, the more time she spent away from her children, the more she was starting to become convince that she would not find them. It was a spirit crushing belief that she had no wish to indulge but was powerless to prevent thanks the predisposed maternal instinct that was ingrained in every creature capable of giving another life.

"I surmised as much," he remarked with a little smile. "From my sister I have learnt that women in this age are engaged in occupation in the same way as their men, what was yours?"

Miranda supposed that it was no big secret if she were to reveal the truth since it was more or less a given that she had military training, particularly since they had seen her fight. "I worked for the government," she answered after a moment, "in much the same way as Bryan."

Bryan had not been terribly forthcoming in his origins either, Elladan recalled but the explanation sufficed because it was clear from Haldir's accounting of Bryan's capabilities, the human was more than adept at defending himself and anyone against the enemies of Sauron.  Miranda had proven herself in the fashion and it reinforced Elladan's belief of her ability to retrieve her children and deal with the Nazgul who had stolen them.

Suddenly something encroached upon his psyche, like a sudden shadow falling over the warmth of a sunny day.  He raised his eyes but a fraction only to find connection in Elrohir's gaze as his brother felt the same sensation.  Elladan froze, his eyes shifted instantly to the source of the approaching danger, knew in his bones that it was closer than they knew.  In this world, were so much was an unknown, everything resonated with caution and only something powerfully dark like the Nazgul could be sensed immediately. This threat, though nowhere as dangerous, had taken time to weave its way through the noise of so many other concerns to give them its warning.

"They are coming," Elladan exclaimed, "now."

Miranda did not question his perception, not after how they had predicted so accurately that Frank needed her help in the campus a day before. If it were not for their unique senses, Frank would have been in the hands of the Nazgul and his companions left dead. 

"Can you tell where?" She asked immediately because both staircases were located on opposite ends of the building.

"From the passageway we took," Elrohir answered quickly.

"That didn't take long," Miranda cursed under her breath as she started jogging towards the staircase in question.

"Where are you going?" Elladan demanded since the prudent course would be to retrieve the others and exit the building using the other staircase.

"I need a better weapon than this," Miranda retorted as she drew further away, "get Frank and the others and head for the other staircase."

Elladan saw her disappearing around the corner and look to his brother.

"I shall go with her," Elrohir declared, already moving in the direction that Miranda was going.

"Please," Elladan shook his head in disapproval, deciding that Miranda and his sister had a great deal in common particularly when it came to acting impulsively.

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

 Miranda did not notice the elf as she took point by the doorway to the staircase until he was directly behind her.  Since entering their lives, Miranda found that the duo were the absolute masters of stealth and shuddered to think what mischief they were capable of if not for their high minded ideals.  Pressing her ear to the wall, she could confirm by hearing what Elladan and Elorhir had alerted her to a short time ago.  Heavy footsteps were making their way up the stairs and the excited voices that preceded them indicated that their deception had been discovered.

"There's at least a dozen of them," Miranda guessed.

"Seven to be exact," Elrohir replied after doing the same and acquiring a more precise numbering his superior elven hearing. "What do you intend?" He asked a moment later, noting the stance she was taking as she waited for their enemies to scale the steps within the staircase to reach them.

"I need a better weapon than this," Miranda replied, frowning at the handgun in her grip, which was almost running on empty. "If we're going to get out of here, I need something with kick."

"Kick?" He looked at her, not understanding the terminology.

"Something that fires more than twenty rounds," she said with a smile.

"We had weapons on our vessel," Elrohir remarked, "weapons which would be of great use to us against the Nazgul but we could not slip them past your customs officials."

"That's modern bureaucracy for you," she responded, "we'll deal with it once we're out of here. I know where we can get some decent weaponry, not just for you but me as well."

Elrohir was going to question her further on the subject when she bid him to be silent as their enemy closed the distance. Miranda maintained her position by the doorway, ensuring that she would see them first. He allowed her to dictate their plan of attack since she had some strategy in mind and he did not wish to hinder her by his presence. Both of them held their breaths simultaneously as the heavy door began to open, the barrel of a rifle making its appearance ahead of the security guards.  The guard emerging from the darkened doorway was acting cautiously as he slowly entered the hallway.

When enough of the weapon came into sight, Miranda reached out and grabbed it in a lightning fast movement, snatching it out of his grip at the same time she threw herself against the door and trapped his arm in the crack with a terrible crunch of bone.  An agonized scream was muffled by the closing door from the security guard whose weapon she had commandeered retracted his arm.  As he did so, Miranda kicked it close and open fire against the doorway. She aimed high at first, riddling the top of the door with bullets, giving those behind it ample margin for escape.

"Get me that waste paper bin!" She barked at Elrohir who looked back at her quizzically, uncertain of what he had asked.

"That thing!" She pointed impatiently and released another barrage of bullets to ensure that if any of the security guards were at the door, they wouldn't be now.  The fact that they were carrying assault rifles seemed to confirm the twin's allegation that Malcolm Industries was the façade for a former lord of Mordor. Security guards were not equipped with these kinds of weapons unless there was something they were determined to protect or acquire. In this case, it was most likely Frank.

Elrohir nodded mutely, retrieving the tall, cylindrical refuse bin and handed it to Miranda who was bracing the door with her foot. Once it was in her hand, she jammed it under the door handle, ensuring that anyone trying to enter the room that way would not have an easy time of it. It was a temporary measure at best but even a margin of a few seconds could mean the difference between escape and capture. Miranda wanted every advantage they could get.

"I do not think this will hold them," Elrohir declared as Miranda turned towards him.

"That's an understatement," she retorted. "Come on, we've got to make it to the other door before they seal up that exit too.  We're almost twenty stories up, we don't have another way out of here."

Elrohir followed her without question because her judgement was sound and he did not wish to be trapped upon this loft height any more than she did.  Even Orthanc had not been as tall as this and he knew that this particular structure in terms of height was nothing out of the ordinary. During his first visit to Arda, in the city where he had found Eve and Aaron, the buildings had been so high that it was enough to steal the breath from his lungs.  He wondered how it was possible to build something so beautiful to behold as well as terrifying all at the same time.

As they drew further away from the corridor, he heard the sound of the door being battered from the other side and turned long enough to see the security guards attempting to break through. Once again, his earlier assertion that the door would not hold for long returned to his memory and he knew that Miranda was right, they had to reach the second door before the enemy had them trap.  Following her lead, he kept her in sight as she navigated the maze like across the uppermost floor of the building.

Another explosion of sound told Elrohir that their pursuers had decided to use bullets in order to force the door open and the noise of discharging weapons filled the air.  The gunfire made Miranda pause but a second as her eyes met his and they understood without exchanging a word, how short their time had become. Their pause was but for an instant before she was running again and as they reached the juncture of intersecting corridor, were reunited with the others.

“Miranda!” Frank called out as he joined his wife, clearly relieved to see no harm had come to her.

“They’re right behind us,” Miranda informed the others hastily.

“Damn,” Eric cursed under his breath. “That took a lot less time than I hoped. I guessed Johan wasn’t as dumb as he looked.”

“Did you find what we needed?” She paused long enough to ask.

“We found something,” Frank said with a smile and saw a flood of relief in her eyes at this news. “It could be a long shot but it is the best that we could do.”

“Here,” Miranda turned to Jason and pulled out the handgun tucked in the front of her jeans. “You know how to use this?”  She asked recalling that he had been quite adept with a gun during their battle with the Nazgul in the university laboratory a day earlier.

“Yeah,” Jason took hold of the weapon and answered, “I can get myself out of trouble with one of these.”

“There are about six rounds at best,” she explained. “Take it off the rapid fire and fire single shots only. We don’t want to kill anyone, just make certain they keep their distance.”

“I got you,” the younger man nodded in understanding and was grateful that she did not expect him to kill anyone.  Being a soldier in peace time had spared him that particular experience and Jason was in no hurry to be blooded, despite strongly suspecting their present situation was going to bring it about eventually.

“Good,” Miranda nodded in approval before turning to the others in the hallway. “We have to get out of here. If those guards smart, they’ll be sending someone up both fire stairs.”

“Then we had best continue on,” Elladan declared, prompting the group into movement once more.

Hurrying through the corridors, they made their way across the floor, passing empty offices in dim hallways.  The sound of pursuit grew louder in their ears as they heard the security guards breaking through the barricade of the fire stairs and shouting out orders to one another to find the intruders.  It did not take long for the enemy to discern their location and even as they approached the second fire stairs, Miranda suspected that their avenue of escape might already be severed.

“I’ll go first,” she said approaching the door.

“Miranda, are you sure about this?” Frank asked, not liking the fact that his wife was throwing herself head long into danger, ahead all of them.

“I’m the one with the gun,” she replied, casting him a brief glance of affection to tell him that she would be all right. “Everyone stay back, just in case.”

“Let me,” Elladan stepped forward, “I can move with far swifter ability.”

“You can’t outrun a bullet,” she said dismissively and gestured for him to join the others before he could offer further argument. The elf withdrew but reluctantly and Miranda knew that it offended his sense of chivalry that she was taking the lead.  Unfortunately, she had little patience with chauvinism, no matter how well intentioned and placed her hand on the doorknob to enter the staircase and ensure that the way was clear for the rest of them.

Turning it slowly, she scolded herself inwardly because it would make no difference whether or not she made a sound if there was someone there. Peering through the widening crack of door as she pushed it, Miranda had no more managed to peer into the staircase when suddenly she heard the very audible click of a gun hammer a fraction of a second before the weapon discharge.  The bullets exploded past her ear, forcing her to recoil back into the hallway. The projectiles impacted against the concrete wall, spraying her with stone fragment as well as splinters of wood where the bullets had made contact with the door.

“Come on!” Frank hurried to her, forgetting his safety as he assured himself of hers.

Grabbing her arm, he pulled her away from the door as the hail of bullets drove her further into the corridor.  The eruption of gunfire had given away their position to the security guards closing in on them from the other side and the voices that had been distant now became urgent with approach.  Frank was aware of their grim predicament as the group retreated further away from the doorway, effectively caught between the narrowing gap of Malcolm Industries’ security forces.

“Maybe we can trying going through the lift doors,” Eric suggested.  “I’m sure those shafts have maintenance ladders of some kind.”

“We’d never make it,” Frank shouted in turn as they ran down the corridor without any clear understanding of what was to be done.

Miranda’s mind was whirling, trying to find an avenue of escape but finding all their options effectively curtailed with the advent of both fire stairs being cordoned off by the security guards.  The notion of capture created such a feeling of despair inside of her that she could hardly think. Capture would mean losing the only advantage they had, Frank’s ability to move about freely.  They had so little room to maneuver as it was. If the Nazgul were to capture Frank and hold them hostage in the same manner that Sam and Pip were now being held, her husband would have no choice but to capitulate to the Nazgul’s demands.

No!

She thought frantically, she was not afraid to die but if Frank was right about these Valar and she did not doubt that he was, then they would all be sacrificed to prevent the lord of Mordor from returning to the modern world.  She could endure her own death but her children’s demise was something she could not begin to fathom in any shape or form.  There had to be a way out of here! There simply had to be! She searched her brain for any way to deliver them from their present predicament when suddenly a memory surfaced in her mind that was almost a fleeting thought.

“This way!” She shouted turning into a corridor that lead away from both the fire stairs and emptied towards one of the abandoned offices.

“Why?” Elladan questioned even though the others were already following the golden haired woman as she darted through one of the doorways they had passed earlier. “There are only rooms there.”

Miranda did not answer, trying to remember exactly where she had seen it. She knew that it was one of these offices but during their exploration of the level, she had only made note of it in passing because she had not thought it significant at the time.

The office she finally entered looked no different than the others except that this one was a corner office and would have been quite the status symbol for the person occupying it. While nowhere as grandiose as the branch director’s office, this one had a spectacular view of the city as well.  Miranda hurried to the glass wall and looked through it meaningfully, her gaze sweeping across their only way of escaping this building.

“You’re fucking joking,” Jason blurted out first.

“It’s the only way,” Miranda ignored him and raised her rifle to fire. “Everyone look away!”

“Oh hell!” The young Kiwi turned around as she pulled the trigger.

Gunfire exploded in her ears as the bullets strafed the glass surface and shattered it spectacularly. Sharp fragments flew in all directions as larger pieces of glass exploded outwards and began its long descent to the ground.  The open ruptures in the glass wall immediately forced the powerful winds to sweep through the room.  Wind increased in speed the higher the altitude and at the heights they were presently occupying, the wind shear was considerable indeed. Miranda turned away as the room became a mild vortex of glass. Her hair whipped against her face as she lowered her weapon and stepped forward.

“Come on!” She called out as she approached the edge of the damaged wall and began to smash a larger opening with the butt of her rifle.

The window cleaner’s scaffold was covered in glass and swayed slightly beneath the ministrations of the wind. Held in place by thick cables and pulleys, it did not at all look like an adequate manner of escape but unfortunately, it was all they had. 

“Jesus is that even going to hold our weight?” Frank asked as he saw his wife stepping through the opening.

Miranda swallowed and reminded herself not to look down as she stepped onto the aluminum platform.  It was not as stable as she would have liked and she was certain it was not made to accommodate the weight of six people but at this moment they had no choice. If they did not escape the building this way, then they would be led out of it as prisoners. Miranda preferred to take her chances with the platform. Grabbing onto the railings, she stepped onto metal floor before turning to Frank.

“It’s the only way love,” she said extending her hand to his.

“I trust you,” Frank answered her without hesitation before taking her outstretched hand and making the journey from the safety of the building floor to the possible peril of the window cleaner’s scaffold.  Like her, he did not look down as he made the crossing, aware that he would only become queasy by doing so.

“Is this safe?” Elladan asked with unhidden anxiety but since he could hear better than anyone the voices of the security guard closing in on them, supposed that safety was a relative issue and stepped onto the platform with as much bravery as could be mustered at a time like this.  The elf grabbed the handrail immediately and moved further along the scaffold so that the others could join in. 

“Does it matter?” Elrohir retorted following him, deciding that he would never again take the ground for granted. While these structures may appear splendid indeed, Elrohir came to the conclusion that he would prefer to view them from afar and most preferably from the ground.

Eric followed him and though the scaffold seemed to groan in protest at the weight, maintained its sturdiness despite swaying precariously in the wind and driving them to their wits end. Predictably, Jason was the last one to step onto the platform and as the voices of their pursuers grew loud enough to make them flinch, the younger man hesitated as he summed the courage to make join his companions.

“Come on Jason!” Eric insisted.

“Oh Jesus,” Jason exclaimed, sweat breaking out over his skin. “What is it with you people and bloody heights?”

“Will you just get on!” Eric snapped. “This isn’t the time to wrestle with acrophobia!”

“Wrestle!” Jason shouted back, “I’m on the bloody mat and the referee’s counting to ten!”

“JASON!” Eric shouted in exasperation.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” The younger man said clearly fearful but forcing himself to move as he put a foot on the platform.   No sooner than he had made the effort, both Eric and Elladan leaned over and dragged him the rest of the way.

“Oh shit!” Jason swore again as he opened his eyes as they pulled him across and found himself looking at the miniature street below.

“Don’t look down!” Frank instructed.

“Its too late!” Jason hissed and clamped his eyes shut, promising himself that it would remain that way until they were on the ground again.

“Miranda!” Frank turned to his wife as they saw the security guards appearing at the door of the room. “Get this bloody thing moving!”

Miranda found the large control box attached to the electronics of the scaffold with a thick and flexible rubber conduit. Pushing one of the two buttons on the panel, the scaffold jerked into movement as the pulleys began the work and with an uneasy start, the entire platform began to lower somewhat steadily. She released the box and looked up to the open window, waiting for the eminent arrival of the security guards who would deduce quickly enough where they had gone.

"We made it," Eric exclaimed, "we actually made it."

"We haven't made anything until we're on the ground!" Jason declared hotly, with one arm wrapped around a railing with the other covering his eyes, quite an impressive feat since he had the only other gun among them.

"Stand back," Miranda ordered as she saw the first appearance of the guards at the broken window. Not given them the chance to discern where she and her companions had gone or how they had made their escape, she raise the assault rifle in her hands and released a hail of bullets along the glass walls of the building.  The noise was more than enough to drive them back into the building's innards for safety and more glass window shattered under the ministrations of the projectiles. The scaffolding managed to maintain its steady descent despite this barrage but it did not improve the wits of anyone who was force to travel on the platform.

"Miranda!" Frank immediately reached for the gun and pushed it down to stop her from firing further. Below them, the debris of glass and the sound of gunfire had caused minor chaos as eyes were immediately drawn to them from the onlookers below. Other people were fleeing in fear the glass shards raining down on them and those who were not, were pointing at them and calling for help.

"Frank!" Miranda turned to him in protest, "I've got to stop them from following us!"

"They want me alive!" He insisted, "I seriously doubt they're going to open fire while I'm suspended twenty floors up. Take it easy!"

"Fine," Miranda lowered her weapon, conceding defeat in this one point because it seemed as she was bringing too much attention to them. It was more than likely that the security guards were already making their way down the building in an effort to intercept them below, they did not need the added complication of the authorities' involvement as well.

"Were you able to learn anything?" Elladan asked Eric in an effort to dispel the tension between husband and wife.  With the scaffolding making its way to the ground, there was little else to do and under such circumstances, tempers could become frayed very quickly.

Catching the elf's meaning, Eric answered quickly, "yeah, we found out that some woman called Irina Sadko has been issuing a lot of company memos from the Paris office.  If I didn't know better, I would say she was in charge."

The mention of a woman sparked a memory within Elrohir who had spent a good deal of time with Bryan Miller since the human had come to Valinor.  He searched his thoughts for the relevant information, focusing after a moment on the events relating to David Saeran's defeat in his stronghold in Mordor or the modern world's equivalent of the place, Romania.

"There was a woman present when they captured Sauron," Elrohir declared looking up at them both. "She was believed to have been Sauron's lover however, Bryan was certain that she was killed when his domain was destroyed."

"Believed but not certain?" Eric stared at the elf in return.

"There was no time to be sure of it as a fact," Elrohir explained, "she had almost killed your brother. If it were not for Aaron, it would have been likely that Bryan would have died in Mordor…I mean Romania."

Frank did not answer because the ground was approaching fast to greet them. He swept his gaze towards the main entrance of the building and saw the security guards had yet to make their appearance. Frank did not anticipate that this state of affairs would remain indefinitely and moved towards the small gate through the railing of the scaffold. The concrete was only a few feet below him and Frank too the initiative to jump the rest of the way.

It was just as well because no sooner than they were back on terra firma did the guards in question emerge and in greater numbers.  Wasting no time in a further confrontation or engaging in a gunfight in the middle of a busy street in broad daylight, the collection of humans and elves ran towards the car Miranda had stolen earlier in order to make their getaway.  For most part, Frank was right about the guard's desire to take him alive because they too were being restrained in their use of firearms. Miranda reached the vehicle first, jumping into the driver's seat and bringing the engines promptly to life as those with hers followed suit, piling into the car hastily as the security guards closed in on them.

"Go! Go! Go!" Frank shouted as he saw them reach the sidewalk where the station wagon was parked. In a matter of seconds, the vehicle would be surrounded and unable to move unless Miranda was willing to plow through the enemy in full view of everyone.

Fortunately, the dilemma never reared its head as the vehicle pulled out of its parked space just as the guards were within reach of it.  Still reluctant to open fire in the middle of the day, the employees of Malcolm Industries could do little but watch helplessly as their quarry sped away in a stolen car.

They were some distance away before anyone deigned to speak. Everyone was becoming accustomed to the fact that they had survived yet another harrowing incident and wondered how many more lay before them before this nightmare was ready to draw to a close. Frank thought about everything that had happened as they drove through the street with no particular destination in mind. Miranda seemed to be concentrating on putting as much distance between them and the Malcolm Building as her eyes remained fixed on the road ahead.

"This woman Irina," Frank finally broke the silence, "you said that she was Saeran's lover?"

"Yes," Elladan nodded, "at least that is how Bryan described it. She try to kill him after Sauron was defeated."

"Alright then," Frank nodded processing the information in his head. "It makes a good deal of sense then."

"Yeah," Eric nodded in agreement. "She's the one whose been clearing the way for the Nazgul. I wouldn't be surprised if she's the one who's been tracking us. When Petra Tebben sent word to Malcolm Industries about what her archaeology team found, this Sadko woman must have realized what the artifact was and decided it was the only way to get David Saeran back. With you making the offer, she probably thinks the Valar will have no choice but to agree."

"That's how the Nazgul were able to find out about Sam and Pip so quickly," Frank continued, "no doubt the instant they found out I was at the university, she accessed the university faculty list to find out my personal details."

"So you're telling me this woman Irina Sadko," Miranda spoke up finally, "has been in charge of Malcolm Industries since Saeran was taken to Valinor?"

"It fits," Eric retorted. "All the paperwork we saw made no mention of her title but says it was signed with authorization from David Saeran. She's been running things while the rest of the world thinks that Saeran is somewhere in Germany convalescing."

"Okay, we know who she is," Jason said grateful that they had something concrete to work with after long last. "The question is what do we do about it?"

"Where is this woman?" Elladan asked.

"The files we saw indicates she's based out of Paris," Eric answered, "but I doubt that she'd keep two kidnapped children there but it's a place to start."

"I find it difficult to believe that the Nazgul would ally themselves with any human," Elrohir retorted somewhat astonished by this possibility. The Nazgul had little patience for any living thing that was not their master but supposed that a great deal had changed in a hundred thousand years, perhaps need had given them little choice but to cooperate with Sauron's lover.

"Well like you said," Frank met his gaze, "they are not as strong as they used to be. Without Saeran, they're vulnerable and moving through the modern world is difficult without help.  Politics make strange bedfellows I'm afraid. Still I'm not sure if Paris is where we should be headed."

"What do you mean?" Jason asked, "where else could they go?"

"The Nazgul would want to keep a close eye on Sam and Pip," Miranda said sourly. "For the moment, he needs them and I doubt he'd risk losing them when it's the only way to get their Master back. However, once their usefulness ends, I know the bastard will kill them."

Frank bristled at the thought of his boys coming to harm because of a Nazgul's vengeance but crushed the fear ruthlessly because he needed to think. "You say their Romanian base was destroyed?"

"Thoroughly from what I understand," Elrohir replied, recalling Bryan's accounting of events.

"They couldn't take the boys out of Europe," Miranda spoke starting to see where Frank was headed with his ruminations. "They'll need passports to get through customs. The Nazgul wouldn't take the risk."

"What about the Paris branch?" Jason suggested.

"As the corporate center, that's tactically unwise," Frank answered, "they need to be hidden somewhere remote, somewhere Sam and Pip won't find help if they try to escape and knowing our kids, they'll try."

"Wait a minute," Jason exclaimed as the realization dawned upon him, "what about this place that Saeran is supposed to be recuperating at?"

"The one in Germany," Eric stated.

"What about there?" Jason looked at the others in question. "I mean the trip by road isn't long. They could make it to Germany in less than a day and they don't need to pass through customs."

"Germany is a big place," Miranda said tautly but the seeds of hope were definitely glittering in her eyes, Frank noticed. "We need to know exactly where."

"I think I can find out," Eric returned with a smile and turned to Jason, "who's the best researcher we know?"

Jason caught his meaning and let out a visible groan, "not her."

"Who?" Frank stared at the younger man puzzled.

"We got sent to Iceland the last time," Jason glared at Eric, "you call her again and we're going to get fired!"

"Who is he talking about?" Elladan asked similarly baffled.

"My boss's wife," Eric answered. "Dominique."

Part Eleven
Destinations

Sam was afraid.

It was a perfectly understandable emotion to be experiencing when one considered the ordeal he had endured since the Black Riders had spirited him and his brother Pip away from their anguished parents. Despite his valiant efforts to maintain his composure, Sam was only a child of seven and while he had shown amazing fortitude in the face of unspeakable evil, there was only so much courage he could muster before his bravery become a well run dry.  Ironically, what finally exhausted the limits of his endurance was not further proof of the terrible creatures that inhabited this world in secret but something that cut even deeper to the bone.

Pip had not spoken in hours.

Swathed in a blanket of dark within the dreadful place they were kept hidden, San crouched closer to his brother and placed a protective arm around his brother who had not said a word since they had been trapped in the dark cell with bars. In some sense, Sam would have preferred it if they were able to see nothing. In darkness there was the comfort of unknowing but there was some light slipping through their cage like an silent invader and it allowed them to see what was beyond.  What they had seen frightened Sam beyond his ability to describe it and like his younger brother, he wished and prayed even harder than mum and dad would find them soon. 

For Pip, it was simply too much.

Little more than five years old, what he had seen engendered a scream that Sam had never heard his brother utter before and after that, Pip had fallen silent, saying nothing else.  That was many hours ago and as Sam tried to avoid looking into the light, tried to ignore the sound of feet moving in the darkness, so much like the skin crawling noise made by cockroaches on their midnight forage, he knew that Pip’s mind had taken him to a place where none of this could hurt him.  That more than anything else that had happened since this all began frightened Sam the most.  He had tried coaxing words out of Pip but all his brother would do was sit there on the rocky ground, his knees pulled under his chin as he closed his eyes, clenched into a ball.

“Don’t worry Pip,” Sam said quietly, not knowing what else to say because he had tried everything to get a response out of his brother without success. “Mum and dad will find us here, I know they will.  We won’t be here for long.”

As he said that, he swept his gaze over the dark cavern, illuminated by a torch for their benefit.  He could see the uneven shape of the ceiling as the stalactites hanging down. They looked like jagged teeth as they loomed overhead and made Sam think they were inside the mouth of some enormous monster.  He forced the idea out of his mind because it had sent a fresh surge of anxiety through him and it was not as if he needed to be any more frightened than he was. Blinking, he looked past the bars, even though he knew he shouldn’t. He could see them moving in the distance, scurrying up the walls like insects or moving across the ground, their hunched and misshapen bodies pausing to peer inside the small cavern where the two children were deposited, as if he and Pip were attractions at a zoo.

Worse yet, the main meal on the dinner table.

The Black Riders had left them here in the hands of their new captors and seeing them for the first time had torn the scream from Pip that had plunged his brother into his dark abyss.   Even now, they stood at the mouth of the cavern, casting their eyes upon the two children at regular intervals.  They were almost as big as the Black riders and were clad in the dark clothes that did not fit them well.  Their hair was long and matted and their mouth revealed teeth that were like that of animals. Their faces were misshapen and grotesque and their words were hard and guttural. Seeing them had frightened his brother but when the others came, it was more than Pip could bear.

The others were smaller in stature but still no less vicious, their eyes were not human eyes and shifted from being fish to reptilian like. The ones the Black Riders called Uruks ensured that none of these smaller denizens approach the children for all their looks of longing and during their confinement, Sam knew that they were of great interest to these creatures who looked as if they had been residing in this darkness for a terribly long time.  They hunched and they crawled and as Pip and Sam were being brought to this place, moving over the rock as if they knew it intimately, needing not even light to recognize its features, feasting with loud, slurping noises and crunching sounds that made him shudder still.

Feasting on each other.

It was this that finally drove Pip over the edge and in the near frenzied screaming that followed as he was carried to this cavern, mindless with fear, his voice filling every corner of the dark hell with its noise.  The Uruk creature had to physically carry Pip into the cavern, kicking and screaming.  His struggles were so fierce that even Sam was forced to beg him to desist, certain that the creatures would think them too much trouble and do away with them for expediency. Fortunately, the Uruk found a struggling child easy to manage and slipped Pip and Sam promptly into their cells with little difficulty.

“Please Pip,” Sam tried desperately to reach his brother once more. “Say something.”

Pip did not speak and seemed be rocking back and forth wordlessly.  Sam knew that only their parents could bring Pip back to them but that possibility seemed terribly remote at the moment. Sam wished he would talk because comforting his brother was the only thing that kept his own terror away.  With Pip locked in this state of catatonia, Sam was forced to face his limitations and just how truly helpless he was in, for all his efforts at remaining strong.  He had thought escape was the only way to reach their parents but Sam had come to the terrible conclusion that what lay in wait beyond their cell may not be worth the risk of their freedom.

The Uruk seemed to bark at the smaller creatures that seemed to be stealing glimpses of them and it occurred to Sam that the huge entry was assigned not merely to guard them but to keep them safe.  Sam studied his surroundings once more, knowing that he would glean little information he had not already acquired in earlier such exercises.  The place still seemed familiar to him and he wondered why that was.  He wondered how this underground world, with its dank stench of death, dust and rotting meat could spark a memory inside of him.  However, every fiber of his being told him that it was a true memory, just like the Black Riders had been a true memory.

If that was the case, was the other real too?

His memories of the other were nothing tangible, just the sensation that he was supposed to be somewhere and he was not.  For most part, Sam did not feel the void inside himself that yearned for something he could not explain, that brought forth a feeling that there was supposed to be someone at his side or more correctly, he was supposed to be at their side and was not.  He had an idea that if he asked the Black Riders, they would know but he did not think that would answer him and maybe the other was why they looked at him with such hatred. Even though he could not see their eyes, he knew it to be true.

“We’ll get out of here Pip,” Sam spoke, noting the Uruk turning briefly to him at the sound of his voice, “mum and dad will come for us.  They’ll find us, even in this place,” Sam said giving their cell another sweeping look as he slipped his arm over Pip’s shoulders, “remember how we got lost once in that store and how mum came and found us? Remember what she had said when you were crying? Mums always know where their children are, even when they can’t see them. Mum knows where we are Pip, even if she can’t see us and dad? Dad can find anything. He found things that had been buried in the sand for ages and ages, he’s pretty smart, he’ll know how to get to us because we’re alive and we’ve only been lost a few days.”

The words had little impact on his brother but it made him feel a little better. 

For a while at least.

************* 

“Is it wise returning here?” Elladan asked as the station wagon pulled into the driveway of the Miller household, abandoned since yesterday afternoon.

“There’s something I need,” Miranda replied. “I would have taken it yesterday but it’s a little heavy to carry around and we weren’t sure what we were going to do at the time. Now that we have a plan, I need to get it.”

“What is it?” Frank asked as they made their way into the house. Miranda had been closed mouth about it and gave Frank the impression that whatever she had come home for was something he would not like at all. 

The house had not changed since their abrupt departure the day before. The evidence of the energy wave’s effect on the city was revealed prolifically by the glass still strewn across the floor from the shattered televisions set and various other objects attached to electronics.  Miranda paused a moment to take in the sight of being home, wishing that the benign existence she and Frank had shared within this walls had not ended with their children becoming pawn of some mythological game of chess.  Her reminiscing took but a moment to dispel because they now had some idea of where the boys were being held and this interlude at home was only so that she could retrieve what she needed to reach them.

“We shouldn’t stay here long,” Eric mirrored Elladan’s words as he looked outside apprehensively. Considering what they had done since leaving Hans’ home this morning, he would not be at all surprised to learn that the law was hunting them as determinedly as the Nazgul.  “The powers not going to stay off forever and when it does, its open season on us.”

“I don’t plan to take that much time,” Miranda retorted, ignoring the protests from her companions. While she understood their need for caution, she also knew after the events of the past day just how dangerous their situation was.  They had been running from place to place, making up a plan as they went. The training that had kept her alive in the service was telling her that this could not go on indefinitely. Luck only got you so far and luck had a tendency to run out when you needed it most.  No, she decided ruefully, they were going to need to be better prepared than they were.

Striding across the floor, Miranda reached her piano and lifted the lid.  She saw Frank staring at her in puzzlement as she rummaged through the innards of the instrument until her fingers grasped what she wanted.  It was covered in dust and her fingertips did not like the contact however Miranda ignored the sensation as she lifted the small Chinese box, no larger than a humidor, out of the piano.

“What is that?” Frank asked in astonishment, having never seen it before.

“Insurance,” she said quietly as she put the box on the dining table and opened it.  Curiosity at what it might contain ensured that she had an audience who drew closer to her in order to take a glimpse of what was inside.

The first thing Frank caught sight of was the money.

Almost an inch thick, the wad of cash was in British currency and Frank’s eyes widened when he saw that they were all one hundred pound notes. He thought of the holiday they had taken a couple of years ago to America where he had scrimped and saved every penny in order to finance and felt a little cheated at knowing that the money was here all the time, secreted in this box he did not even know existed.  However, if he thought he was surprised, then it was nothing in comparison to the other documentation she produced from inside this hidden receptacle.

“What is this?” Frank demanded, picking up the small book and thumbing through it.

“Passports,” Miranda answered, aware that the tension in his voice indicated he was angry.

“Passports?” Eric stared at her, mirroring the question that Frank had yet to ask.

“Yes,” Miranda nodded, coming to the realization in the last few seconds as she saw her secrets laid bare that Frank deserved an explanation. It was not just anger she saw in his eyes, it was hurt.  She could endure almost anything save the loss of her children but she had underestimated how cutting it could be to see Frank hurt because of something she did.

“These passports don’t have our names on them,” Frank looked at her with accusation. “There’s one for all of us, you, me and the boys but the names are completely different. Why?”

“Because its insurance,” she swallowed thickly and noted the others in the room retreating slightly because this was an issue between husband and wife.  “In case we ever needed to leave in a hurry. It was unlikely that we would ever need them but old habits are hard to break.  It was a safety precaution for all of us if things went badly and in the business, it sometimes happened. For queen and country you sometimes had to wear things that weren’t your fault but you didn’t have to pay for it either. That’s what those were for.”

“What business?” Frank demanded, finally voicing the question he had waited ten years to ask. 

“MI6,” Miranda said after a moment.

“MI6!” Eric exclaimed even though he meant to remain silent and let Frank and Miranda talk this out. “You were with MI6?”

“What is that?” Elladan looked at Jason in puzzlement.

“That’s secret agent stuff,” Eric retorted. “So you were a Firm operative?”  He had done an article on the intelligence community some years ago and though he was certain that his story covered only the barest fraction of the truth about these organizations, he knew enough to appreciate why Miranda could do the things she do.

“Deep cover,” Miranda nodded slowly, “covert surveillance to be precise. I was in Belfast when I met your brother,” she looked at Frank. “He and I were on a mission together and we got each other through it. I’m still bound by the Official Secrets Act Frank, I can really talk about what I did.”

“I’m not asking about your bloody missions!” Frank snapped harshly. “Why couldn’t you told me about this?” He stared at the box and its contents, “or about the fact that you kept a gun in our house where we have two young children!”

“That’s not fair,” Miranda returned just as vehemently, but she knew he was right. She had kept the bullets in the same place as the gun. If either Sam or Pip had ever found it, the consequences could have been tragic.  “I didn’t think it was necessary for you to know.”

“Miranda,” Frank started to speak before he forced himself to take a moment to calm down first.  After a second or two, he met her eyes again, in a decidedly more reasonable frame of mind, “I love you. I know that you have a past and sometimes, it’s hard for you to talk about it. I never questioned that and I’m still not angry that you kept what you did from me a secret but the possibility that we may one day have to pick and run like criminals is something I do deserve to know!”

“You never asked question of Bryan,” Miranda stammered, feeling shamed because he was right.  Something like that should not have been kept to herself.

“I’M NOT BLOODY MARRIED TO BRYAN!” Frank almost roared. “He didn’t have two boys to worry about! Damn it Miranda, you should have told me.”

“Hey come on,” Eric started to intercede, seeing the genuine pain in her eyes at Frank’s harsh rebuttal. “I’m sure she did not mean it…”

“Stay out of this,” Frank said sharply and Eric was about to respond when Elladan’s hand dropped on his shoulder and indicated that he ought to remain silent.

“I’m sorry Frank,” Miranda met his gaze after looking at Eric with a surge of affection at his efforts to come to her aide, as any older brother would do, she thought unconsciously. “You’re right,” she admitted softly. “I should have told you.  I guess I was a little afraid of what you would say and I didn’t want to worry you.  I wanted to forget who I had been and telling you, even this small part of it, would have reminded me of things I don’t wish to remember any more. It was never my intention for there to be secrets between us.”

Frank softened, unable to stay mad at Miranda for very long but he wanted her to know that this would be the last time they had a conversation like this again. “I don’t expect you to tell me everything luv,” he said gently, “there are things in your past we don’t’ ever have to talk about but you have to trust me. I love you and nothing you could say to me would ever change that. However, when it comes to our family, I don’t ever want there to be any secrets between us. Is that understood?”

When he wanted it, his glare could be merciless and even Miranda could not help but flinch under that intense gaze.

“Understood,” Miranda conceded gracefully, unable to deny that she deserved his rebuke.

“Listen,” Eric tried again, aware that he should not be interfering but they had far greater things to concern themselves with at the moment. “Your kids need you,” he reminded them. “I think this can wait until after you’ve got them back.”

Frank dropped his gaze to his feet, agreeing silently that Eric was right and he knew that it was only his pride that had been injured.  As much as it hurt, it changed nothing. He still loved his wife dearly and would continue to do so no matter how much she had kept from him. He would not deny Miranda her secrets but he would have her know that there were some things he had a right to know.  The content of the box and its reason for being was one of those these instances.

“Is that all you needed from here?” Frank asked gently as he raised his eyes to Miranda.

“Yes,” she nodded, her sadness at hurting him still apparent but Frank offered her a little smile, hoping that would convey to her that things were all right between them despite.  The moment was brief but it was enough and brought a corresponding smile to Miranda’s face.

“We should leave,” Elrohir advised. “If you were correct about other parties becoming interested in the Silmarils, we should not be here when they arrive.”

“That’s for sure,” Jason voiced his agreement.

“Well I need to make that phone call,” Eric reminded. “We need to get out of the city to someplace that was not affected by the wave.”

“Then we head south,” Miranda replied, “towards Roskilde.”

“Roskilde, Denmark?” Frank stared. “What’s there?”

Miranda met his gaze enigmatically,  “an old friend.”

********

Despite Frank’s curiosity, Miranda was reluctant to say more although he sensed the reason for her silence had little to do with the fact that both Eric and Jason were reporters and the person they were going to see in Roskilde may not appreciate their presence.  In the instance Malcolm Industries was inclined to send the law after them, a perfectly feasible possibility considering they had broken into the company’s branch and exchanged gunfire with the security in place, they departed Oslo shortly after Miranda had acquired what she needed from the house.

They drove out of Oslo towards the border, pausing at Askim long enough to discard the vehicle they had stolen.  The effect of the wave had dissipated long before it reached Askim thus the community was left unscathed.   They were able to buy a used van to accommodate all of them before they made the journey across the border.  Although Eric needed to get in contact with Dominique in order to garner the information they needed regarding the location of David Saeran’s German estate, he understood the need to put as much distance between themselves and Oslo.   Despite Dominique’s feelings towards him, Eric could not say for certain whether or not he trusted the lady.  Unfortunately, their situation gave him little choice but to trust the woman. However, before he made the call that could conceivably give them all away, he wanted to be as far away from where the enemy thought they would be.

The crossing into Sweden was largely uneventful although their first encounter with normal television programming revealed that the effect of the Silmaril upon Oslo had become something of a media event.  Speculation was running rife regarding the cause of the citywide blackout with none of the so-called experts being able to provide answers that they could agree with conclusively. Theories ranged from a theorist attack, to solar flares and even more outlandish possibilities that a nuclear weapon had been detonated in the upper atmosphere, resulting in the release of EMP. 

Despite the furore of speculation that was taking place through the media, Eric was certain that behind the scenes, the people who really mattered were not so disorganized in their investigation.  It made him grateful that they had left the Miller house because anyone seeking to discern the secrets of the wave would eventually be drawn to its epicenter.  Fortunately, Eric was able to say with some measure of confidence that no amount of speculation could possibly lead to anyone realizing that the powerful energy surge had been caused by a jewel no larger than his palm. The impossibility of it was the only thing that allowed them to remain safe.

They arrived in the town of Avrika, located in the heart of Varmland, just across the border into Sweden. The region was known for its natural landscapes that included numerous national parks. As they drove into the community, they found Avrika to be a mixture of urban life and natural rustic splendor.  Deciding that it was probably best that they did not acquire lodgings that was too close to town, a quick trip to the local tourist office soon had then driving towards Glava Gästgård, a pleasant country hotel some 30 kilometers south west of Avrika proper.  Frequented mostly by backpackers, Miranda was confident that this place would provide them the temporary refuge they needed for Eric to make his call to Dominique.

Aside from Jason’s obvious reasons against contacting the woman, Eric had his own reservations as he stared at the telephone in his room, debating whether or not he ought to proceed.  If anyone could find the location of David Saeran’s estate in Germany, it would undoubtedly be Dominique. Despite the fact that she was the boss’s wife, the lady was respected for her skills as a researcher before her marriage had elevated her status in the hierarchy of the news division he was presently employed.  However, Malcolm Industries connection with the network was not unknown. What if contacting Dominique meant giving away their position to the enemy? The only advantage right they possessed at this moment was the fact that the enemy did not know their whereabouts and could not manipulate Frank any further than they already had. Would Dominique compromise them all if he were to contact her?

The question swirled around his thought futilely until he decided the need for the information outweighed the risks to them and picked up the phone.  Australia was eight hours ahead in time and the call would reach her in the small hours of the morning. Dialing the number of her mobile cell phone, he waited patiently as the tones indicated quietly that his call was being connected proceeding the ringing tone.  Eric held his breath, grateful that the others had gone to grab some dinner at the hotel’s restaurant, because he would prefer to conduct this conversation alone.  Jason had been unhappy enough as it was they were exploiting this avenue of information without being present when Eric made the call.

“Who the hell is this?” he heard Dominique’s muffled voice through the phone and snapped him back to the moment. Typically, she was rather annoyed at being woken at this hour but Eric supposed it was justifiable since it was something like four am in Sydney at the moment.

“Do, its Eric,” he said quietly, holding his breath at her reaction.

“Eric?” She exclaimed, suddenly wide-awake.

“Yeah, it me,” he repeated himself. “Can you talk?”

“Yeah we can talk,” she said hastily, “Rob and I agreed it was time we spent some time alone after our little episode at the party.”

Eric felt silent a moment, uncertain how to take that. He did not think Dominique would actually leave her husband and the possible implications of that made him feel especially grateful that he was a continent away. 

“I’m sorry,” he remarked not knowing what else to say.

“I’m not,” she said crisply, indicating clearly that she had no wish to discuss the matter further. That was Dominique’s way, short and to the point. It was one of the things Eric liked about her.  Most women seemed to be mired in so much insecurity. It was refreshing to meet one who could hardly care less about such things.

“Where have you been Eric?” She demanded. “We heard the archaeology team was killed and thought you and Jason might be dead too. If it wasn’t for your charges to the company account in Oslo, we would still believe it!”

“I’m involved in something pretty dangerous Do,” Eric started to explain, trying to diffuse the anger he could hear in her voice though it was perfectly justifiable, they should have let someone know that they were okay.  “The archaeology team wasn’t killed in any freak accident, they were murdered.”

“Murdered?” She gasped. “How?”

“I can’t explain,” he retorted certain that she would not believe him even if he were foolish enough to risk her life with the truth. “I can only tell you that Malcolm Industries are at the bottom of it all.  Jason and I are on the run and we need to stay on the run until we figure things out. We need your help Do, can I count on you.”

“Of course,” she replied without hesitation, “but Eric what kind of trouble are you in? Why would Malcolm Industries want to kill the team?”

“Do, I can’t tell you!” Eric insisted. “The information could you get you killed! Its already cost one man his life and may be two children as well.  It’s safer for both of us that you don’t know.  Please, I need your help but I can give you any more than I have already.”

Dominique fell silent as if she had stopped herself in mid protest and was absorbing his words.  “What do you need from me?” She asked after a long pause.

Eric released a breath in relief, glad that she was willing to help because while he was capable of finding out the information they needed, himself, Dominique had access to resources that could make the search fast.  With Sam and Pip’s life hanging in the balance, time was of the essence.

“I need to know if David Saeran had any kind of holdings in Germany, in particular a residence.  The company’s PR people have accounted for his absence during last six months as the result of the Romanian fire. They’re claming that he’s recuperating at his German estate. I need to know exactly where that is.”

“Why?” Dominique asked even more perplexed by the request.  What did David Saeran have to do with all this?

“Do,” Eric frowned, wishing she did not have the same journalistic curiosity as he because it could make things damned inconvenient at times. “I can’t explain,” he repeated himself, “I just need to know. It’s important.”

“Alright,” she conceded unhappily, “if he’s in Germany, I’ll find out where.  However, I need time. Its four o’clock in the morning here, I’ll need to get into the office to find what you want. How can I contact you?”

“I’ll contact you,” Eric replied, not about to give her that much information even if he did trust her. Whether or not she intended to, Dominique might give them away.  “I’ll call again at eight o’clock your time.”

By then they should be well away from here and heading towards Roskilde where Miranda had made contact with an old associate of hers, a gentleman named Voight, who was waiting their arrival.

“I’ll be waiting,” she answered with a nod, “Eric, be careful. I know you’re a hopeless bastard when it comes to women but you’ve grown on me.”

“You’re only saying that because you’ve heard the sex with me is so good,” he said with a wry smile.

“Not according to Janice in Accounts,” she replied sweetly, drawing a broader grin across his face. “However, I’m willing to risk it.”

“What about Rob?” He teased.

“Rob?”

“Your husband, my boss,” he reminded.

“We’ll be unemployed together,” she sniggered.

“Right,” he laughed and then sobered, “I’ll call you. Take care of yourself.”

“Likewise,” she answered before Eric finally hung up.

*********** 

They remained at Arvika briefly, staying long enough to get a good night’s rest.

Eric could tell the strain was starting to show on Frank and Miranda who saw every night away from their children as a prolonged torture they could not escape.  Frank was struggling with his decision to let Malcolm Industries wait for him to contact them. Both he and the enemy were trapped in the same cage of need, their need for their master and his need for his children. As long as each held something the other wanted, they could remain trapped in this stalemate to infinitum. However, while the Silmaril was ageless and could afford to wait, the same could not be said of Sam and Pip.

They set out early the next morning to make the drive across Sweden to Denmark.  Travelling southward, they journeyed down the coast road over the next three hundred kilometers to Helsingborg. At the coastal city, they were able to make the crossing from Sweden to Danish post of Helsingor before continuing onwards to Roskilde.  As per Miranda’s instructions, they resumed their journey along the Danish coast, bypassing Copenhagen completely before arriving at the ancient Danish capital of Roskilde.

Roskilde was an old city, having been established in one fashion or another since prehistoric times. Elladan and Elrohir sensed its age as they arrived in its principality, an insight Frank did not find difficult to believe since Roskilde had existed before the Vikings had made it their favorite route to open sea.  These days, it was the central hub of the rural communities surrounding it and appeared to be the ideal place for an ex company man to set up a business.  However, what that business was Miranda was not eager to divulge until they actually arrived.

They reached the farmhouse on the outskirts of Roskilde in mid afternoon.  Miranda’s ‘old friend’ had appeared to prefer a rustic life style and the farmhouse with its large barn seemed straight out of a picture book. It was a pretty place, surrounded by vibrantly verdant paddocks of green and the hint of salt in the cold air, indicating the ever looming presence of the sea not too far away. Miranda had called ahead, citing that Max was not someone she could simply drop in on at a moment’s notice. With a man like this, it was wise to simply appear on his doorstep.

Frank was uncertain of what he was expecting when the door swung open after Miranda had knocked. This cloak and dagger world she seemed so comfortable in left him truly overwhelmed at times and he had no idea what a crusty, retired secret agent was supposed to look like.  He had visions of an old Sean Connery but was rewarded instead by a rather stout old man with a thick gray hair and neatly groomed beard in a cable knit jumper.  Miranda stood taller than him as he looked at her with sharp blue eyes that saw a lot, Frank estimated despite the thick-framed glasses on his face.

“Well you’re a sigh for sore eyes fraulein,” he grinned and embraced Miranda warmly.

“You don’t have to lay the thick German accent on me Max,” she gave him a look. “I happen to know that you were born in Glasgow.”

“Blame it on my great grandfather,” he winked as he answered in perfect English accent that was very different from his speech a moment ago.  “Hello lass, how have you been?” He said, clearly warmth in his voice.

“Good,” Miranda smiled, truly pleased to see Max after all this time. They had served together and she was one of the few people in the Firm she had kept track of despite the years. “Max, can we come in, we need to talk. ” She said seriously, her voice possessing an edge that told him that all was far from well in that one question.

He paused but briefly and nodded before beckoning them all into the house.

“I thought you were retired,” Max said as he lead them through the hallway and into his spacious but equally cozy home. Heat radiated from the open fireplace and inviting arms chairs were draped with warm blankets.  It was the home of an old man, content to sit out his last years surrounded by books and the small comforts of life. 

“I am,” Miranda explained, “I took some time off after my last mission and didn’t go back.” She answered as they emptied into the living room and spread out accordingly.

“You mean Belfast,” Max straightened up and met her gaze.

“Yes,” Miranda stiffened uncomfortably, not wishing to discuss that subject with anyone, even Max. “After Belfast. I got married. This is my husband, Frank.”

“I know,” Max nodded turning to Frank for the first time and extending a hand in greeting. “I’ve met your brother, Bryan.”

“You know Bryan?” Frank exclaimed with surprise.

“Oh yes,” Max said before barking at the housekeeper whose activities they could hear in the kitchen, to bring some tea. “Walther PPK, 9 millimeter 15 rounds magazine. I tried to convince him to go the P99 but the boy was so stubborn.  Traditional.,” Max frowned.

“Max was our weapon’s man,” Miranda offered.

Miranda introduced the others and ensured that she did not divulge that Eric and Jason were news people since the retired agent would be slightly apprehensive in their company.  Men like Max preferred to remain anonymous, particularly when they were no longer in the business.  In their lifetime, there were many people who could be counted as enemies and even though they had left the service behind them, some dangers remained constant even if the job was no longer a part of their lives.

Miranda explained as best as she could the situation with Malcolm Industries, omitting any reference to the Silmaril and anything to do with Middle earth. Instead she blamed Sam and Pip’s abduction on  Bryan’s enemies trying to blackmail them into divulging his present whereabouts.

“What about the local authorities?” Max asked.

“You know as well as I do, they’ll be dead before I can reach them,” Miranda said firmly.

Frank watched his wife converse with this crusty old man, speaking in what was almost another language. The danger seemed so common place to both of them and he wondered just how much danger her life had been fraught with.  He wondered what had happened in Belfast that was so painful to Miranda that she would refuse to discuss it with such vehemence. He had seen how delicately Max had made the reference and still it was not to put Miranda on guard, even if it was obvious how much she trusted this man.

“They could be dead already,” Max pointed out.

“No,” Miranda shook her head and exchanging glances with Frank at that possibility. “I refuse to believe that. They’re alive and we’re going to get them out. As long as they think Frank and I will cooperate, they’ll keep the boys alive. 

“What about them?” Max looked at Elladan and Elrohir in particular.

“Their lives are in danger as much as ours,” Miranda answered. “I can tell you anymore Max because it will compromise you. You know the drill.”

Max nodded, “it’s been a few years but yes, I do know how the game is played. So what do you need from me?”

“We have a good idea where the boys are being held,” Miranda continued, grateful that Max did not press her any further.  “We intend to get them out ourselves but we suspect that the opposition will be heavy. We’re going to have to fight our way in and out of there.”

“You’re going to do an extraction?” Max’s eyes widened, “with him? The archaeologist?”

“Hey,” Frank started to protest. “I can look after myself.”

“Really?” Max looked at him skeptical and reached under the cushion of his armchair. He tossed something at Frank who barely had time to register what it was before catching it.

Frank stared at the gun somewhat taken back by the presence of it in his hand.

“Break it down,” Max ordered.

“Max...” Miranda started to say.

“Break it down Professor,” the old man insisted again.

“I can’t,” Frank stared at him bewildered. He had no idea what Max was even asking.

“You want to take this into an extraction?” Max stared at Miranda in astonishment.

“Give me that,” Jason said shortly, liberating the weapon from Frank and staring to disassemble it before their very eyes. Jason’s movements were swift and precise. He took the gun apart as if he knew exactly where every piece went each disassembled part was promptly placed on the table before them in a neat presentable manner. In less than sixty seconds, the gun had been broken down into several component’s.

“That’s breaking it down,” Jason said helpfully and glared at Max, “listen, it doesn’t matter who or what we are, we need help.  Their children need us to go get them and this man,” he said staring at Frank, “has kept us alive so far, so let’s not underestimate him just because he doesn’t know how to put a bullet in someone’s head.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Miranda said giving Jason a grateful look and Frank one of deep affection, “Max we need your help. They’re our kids, not a mission or an extraction, they are our children. We’ll do everything we can to get them out alive or die trying. That’s the kind of conviction that’s going to overcome whether or not some of us can shoot a gun. Right now, I need your help to even things up a little. Can I count on you?”

Max frowned, clearly unhappy at the situation but seeing the decision to proceed was never his to pass judgement upon.  All he could do was offer them what help he could.

“OF course you can,” he nodded after a moment. “What do you need from me.”

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

From the outside, the barn looked like any other to be found in the area. Undoubtedly used for the storage of animals, hay and all the other associated used for such a structure in a rural setting. However, in the case of Maximilian Voight who could never remotely become accustomed to farming, the barn had an altogether different purpose. Stepping inside its confines, jaws dropped in collective astonishment as they saw what was arrayed before them in rack and shelves.  Eric had thought the weapon’s cache in Waco had been bad. It was nothing comparison to what was inside Max’s barn.  He stared in astonishment at the array of weapons in front of him.  It appeared Max had been nurturing a lucrative business in supplying arms since his ‘retirement’ and they were presently staring at his inventory.

“I thought Sweden had strict gun laws,” Eric remarked as he looked at the weapons with morbid fascination.

“They do,” Max replied, “but fortunately the clientele that I supply do not use their weapons in country. They’re people in our line of work,” he glanced at Miranda as if that explained everything.

“Is this really necessary?” Frank turned to his wife, uncomfortable about using any of the weapons he saw in the warehouse/barn.

“We’re not going the kids back any other way,” Miranda replied, giving him a look of sympathy because she could appreciate how difficult this was for him.  He was a gentle man who was, unaccustomed to violence. It was quality she loved about Frank even now when it would have been so much simpler if he was more like Bryan.

“Your lady is correct,” Elladan added, seeing the difficulty in his eyes.  “The Nazgul understanding little but force and we must respond in kind if we are to free your children. We do not know what evil awaits us at Sauron’s domain, we must be prepared.”

Max raised a brow at the odd speech but added nothing further because he sensed Miranda would not give him a straight answer about her companions even if he did waste the time to ask.  “So what you do need?” He inquired instead.

“For starters, I want six of the Walther P99s, a 1000 rounds each,” Miranda began reciting, prompting Max to immediately start scribbling in a note book as his pencil struggled to keep up with her request. Laser sights mounted on both of them so all Frank and Eric have to do is point and shoot at the little red light. I want the military grade model with the recoil compensator, not the standard version and I want them in black, I hate the greens,” she rattled off as she walked past a row of assault rifles and took a closer examination of them.

“These G36Ks look pretty impressive, are they new?” She glanced at Max, ignoring the fact that the men in the room with her were staring in mild amazement and open admiration. “They seemed to have upgraded from what I last remembered. These are the carbine version with standard dual scope mount and folded buttstock?”

“Madam has excellent taste,” Max joked. “Yes, they’re new. They went back to the drawing board in the mid 90’s and modified the design. They’re going to be replacing the M4 in the US army. These come with two sights, telescopic and red dot, which might do you well since you only have to follow the red light to hit your target.”

“Good,” Miranda nodded, picking up the weapon and examining it, “its light.” She commented. “Less than four kilograms. What’s this?” She asked, seeing a fixture on the weapon she did not recognize. “It looks like a mount for something.”

“Oh that’s one of the optional extras,” he smiled, “G36’s can be outfitted with a HK AG36 40 mm under barrel grenade launcher. You probably won’t need the bayonet function.”

“Grenade launcher,” Miranda mused thinking about the Nazgul and what it took to kill them or at the very least, slow them down.  “Alright, we’ll take six of these things gun with at least ten thousand rounds of ammunition.”

“Ten thousand!” Frank exclaimed, not certain to be shock or horrified, “you want ten thousand bullets?”

“The G36 can fire 750 rounds a minute, we’ll run out of them in no time. Better prepared then not,” Miranda said as a matter of factly when she saw something else that caught her interest. “You two,” she called out to Elladan and Elrohir, “these any good to you?”

The twins stepped forward and took a closer look at what she was asking them to see.

“Yes,” Elrohir remarked with a grin, “I think they might be.”

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

 It disturbed Frank to no end that when they left Maximilian Voight's farmhouse, they did so armed with more guns than he had ever seen in his life. Max had graciously given them what they needed free of charge because of his previous friendship with Miranda and what he called professional courtesy. She owed him, he said and to the people who existed in this odd world, a favor sometimes carried more weight than money or power.

 While this might have been a way of life to his brother and his wife, for Frank, the notion of having to save their sons by use of such extreme force, bothered him considerably. He understood that the nature of the enemy they faced allowed for no other alternative but he was too much the scholar to ever be comfortable with employing violence for anything, no matter how warranted the circumstances. However, it appeared that violence was something Miranda understood clearly and knew how to dispense with considerable expertise on her own. It was astonishing to him how a woman who could nurture her family with some love and tenderness could discuss weapons the way one would discuss the different brands of laundry detergent at a supermarket.

Being invited into her shadowy world still made him uncomfortable but Frank was practical as he was intelligent. While she intimidate the hell out of him with this new side of her, he was also rather fascinated by the woman she had been and still was to some degree before their marriage. All in all, he was rather grateful that Miranda was on their side.

"Frank," she asked quietly as they sat in the back seat of the van, since it was now Jason's turn to drive. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he met her gaze, seeing the underlying concern she was trying to hide under her rock hard exterior. "I'm fine luv, I'm just getting used to all this."

"I'm sorry," she swallowed thickly, her cheeks becoming a shade darker as the embarrassment of exposure washed over her at his seeing this side of her personality. "I thought I'd left all this behind me. I'm rather surprised how much of it is coming back to me.  I know its a little overwhelming but things will go back to normal when we get the boys back, I promise."

"Are you under some impression that I'm angry with you?" He stared at her the way one would address a mistaken child. "For better or worse remember?" He reached for her hand and kissed her palm gently. "This is a little overwhelming, I won't lie but all of it is you and I'll get used to it. Besides, I think its sort of sexy in a women with guns sort of way, like those prison movies with the evil guard," he gave her a salacious look that made her laugh.

"My husband," she sighed shaking her head, "he's mad but I think I'll keep him," Miranda met Frank's gaze and added. "I love you".

"I love you too," he returned before the sound of retching noises made him look over his shoulder to see Eric pretending to gag. "Oh grow you Aussie twit."

"You should talk you Pom," Eric snorted back and Elladan and Elrohir who had utterly no idea what any of this meant, decided that they would remain silent lest they be bombarded with these strange appellations that were undoubtedly insults of some kind. A hundred thousand years may have passed but it was clear the race of men were still very young.

“If you don’t stop that, I’m going to stop the car,” Jason added.

“Pretty big talk,” Eric added gleefully, “for a bloody Kiwi.”

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

It was still daylight when he contacted Dominique again, hoping that she would have the information he required. Now that they had returned from Maximilian Voight’s, they were prepared as they were ever going to be face the enemy, all they needed now was a destination so they could embark upon their quest to retrieve Sam and Pip. Eric knew that Miranda was anxious to learn if Dominique had procured her the answer she needed.  He suspected she had other avenues of acquiring the information but she was reluctant to use them. Considering her past affiliations, Eric could only guess what those sources of information were. 

Following their return to the hotel, they had gathered at Frank and Miranda’s room in order to discuss their next step and Eric decided that this was a good opportunity to see if Dominique had what they needed to proceed further.  He dialed her number once again, hoping that she was not asleep like the last time he called because it was still rather late Sydney time.  However, his original reasoning held that a call  at this time would be largely unexpected by those who might be watching.

“Do,” Eric spoke into the mouthpiece as soon as he heard the tone that indicated that the phone had been answered.

There was a pause and an exhaled breath before he heard a voice answer and it was not Dominique’s.

“Eric,” he heard a decided masculine voice speak.

“Rob?” Eric swallowed thickly and felt his pulse suddenly quicken.  The others in the room fell silent immediately and stared at him in concern.

“They gave me her personal effects at the police station,” his employer said quietly.

“Police station?” Eric closed his eyes, praying that what he suspected Rob was about to tell him was not the truth.

“She’s dead,” Rob said plainly ending that hope with two crushing words.

Eric could not speak as the emotion overcame him. In an instant, his mind flashed to memories of her. Her smile, the way he felt in his arms, the softness of her body under his touch, the perfect pliability of her lips as it molded to his in their heated exchange, he could still remember the scent of her and how intoxicating she had been when he was with her.  The agony of her demise reached up inside him like bile escaping up his throat.

“How?” He managed to say.

“She was hit by a car on her way out of the office,” Rob answered, his voice just as strained as Eric’s.  “They didn’t stop. She was dead by the time she hit the pavement.”

“Jesus,” Eric blinked away the tears, “I’m so sorry.”

“How could you bring her into this?” Rob asked. “How could you let them loose on my wife?”

“I didn’t know,” Eric tried to defend himself but it was a weak effort, he would be debating the question himself in the days to come. “I didn’t think she would be in danger.”

“These people are everywhere,” Rob replied mercilessly, “why do you think I sent you to Iceland? You think that assignment was enough to repay you for how you humiliated me? I knew what they were going to do that’s why I sent you. I’ve always belonged to them Eric, always.”

If Eric was really listening, he would have been shocked but in truth, all he could think of was the fact that he had killed Dominique by his actions.

“I belonged to them until they killed her,” Robert added softly before pausing.  For a minute, dead air was all that remained between Eric and his former employer, a silence that neither seemed to notice but was incredibly long for all the others in the room.

“Eric,” Robert said after a moment. “Saeran’s estate in Germany is in the Harz Mountains.”

Chapter Twelve
Distractions

The modern world was an odd place.

This much Elladan had decided after two visits. He had been alive long enough to believe that there was very little that was beyond him, immortality had a tendency to make one complacent if not a little arrogant. However, since that fateful journey across the sea in order to find Mithrandir who had been lost in Arda for almost four centuries, Elladan had realized that it was entirely possible for an whole world to evolve so considerably that it was virtually impossible for a strange to comprehend all aspects of it without becoming utterly overwhelmed. It was fortunate that they had found allies in Arda for he could not imagine how they would navigated through this alien and sometimes perilous world alone, to say nothing about bringing Mithrandir home.

Their allies, much to their happiness, were familiar souls cloaked in somewhat recognizable if completely different bodies. Elladan and Elrohir had been particularly pleased to have Undomiel and Estel returned to them, albeit in the form of two humans who had little memory of what they meant to the family of the Peredhill. Others who had not been familiar to them in Middle-earth had become trusted friends in their latest instance, such as Boromir of Gondor who now wore the persona of Bryan Miller and those whom they had encountered more recently such as Eric Rowan who had been Eomer Eadig, King of the Mark.

It was hard to see the man who was leaning against their vehicle in the space provided for such devices, staring into the darkness with thoughts only he was privy to, as a king who had lived and breathed war for most of his adult life. Elladan had never really known Eomer even though in the last years of his time in Middle-earth, their kingdoms lay in closer proximity to each other than most. By then the elves were beginning to distance themselves from their human neighbors, preparing for the time when the last of them left Arda forever. It had been simpler to remain detach in order to avoid the pain of parting and while some associations could not be so abruptly forgotten, others were simply overlooked before they could begin. Thus it was with Eomer and so Elladan had never really known the King of the Mark with any great depth.

Eric Rowan was something else entirely. The last few days had made them allies in a dark quest to save Frank and Miranda’s children, while at the same time ensuring that the Silmaril never be delivered to those with evil in their hearts. In some ways, he displayed some of Eomer’s most basic character traits, his willingness to help despite the consequences to himself, a fierce determination to do what was right and possessing a deep sense of connection to Miranda at learning that she may have been his sister, long ago. Elladan did not know Eomer beyond that but as he saw Eric alone, shoulders sagging with the weight of sorrow and eyes full of dark anger and tremendous grief, he wished he knew so that he could say the words to make his pain a little easier to bear.

Shortly after the news had come regarding the death of his friend Dominique, it was decided that they should take some hours to rest before embarking on their journey once again. This time, they had a destination to reach and as Elladan studied the place that the children were being held, he found it quite ironic because earlier he and his brother had noted the familiarity of the area with their Middle-earth past during their travels to reach Frank and Miranda. Following their departure from the inn they had been residing, they had traveled for several hours and had come to pause at what Frank had called a ‘petrol station’. It appeared to be one of the numerous way stations that the twins had seen since returning to Arda. It was a place where travelers came to nourish their vehicles with fuel needed to continue, whilst being able to eat and use the facilities as well.

While the rest of their company was presently scattered about the area accomplishing this, Eric had opted to remain with their vehicle and those who knew him, understood his reason for wanting a moment alone. Elladan approached the car slowly, not wishing to intrude but the others were not far behind and soon they would resume their quest to find the children. Eric’s eyes lifted briefly at his approach before he took a sip from the warm beverage in his cup.

"The others will return soon," Elladan said gently, offering him a warning of sorts.

"That didn’t take long," he muttered quietly, still keeping his eyes locked on something only he could see.

"We must hurry, if we are the breach the enemy’s enclave we must do while there is still darkness," Elladan answered though he was certain that Eric barely heard his answer.

"I suppose," he nodded.

Elladan took a deep breath, aware that to Eric, the cost of learning their enemy’s location was simply to high and the elf would have agreed if he had voiced but it was a deed done.

"Her death is not your fault," he said finally.

"I think it is," Eric answered coolly, reacting little to the discussion of such a personal subject. "If I hadn’t called her, hadn’t gotten her involved, none of this would have happened. She would still be alive."

"You could not have known that this would result in her death," Elladan said gently. "Do not assume responsibility from those who did spill her blood. They are the ones who ended her life; they are the ones who made the choice to kill another. You did not. What you did was attempt to find your sister’s children, an admirable goal."

"Are you sure you have the right bloody person!" Eric barked at him and took a step away before turning around to face Elladan again. "Look at me!" He demanded. "Do I look like a king?"

"Not at all," Elladan replied smoothly, more than accustomed to the outbursts of men whenever it became difficult to express their feelings. "But then you are not Eomer, not any more. You are Eric. Eomer is in your past, you may share his soul and perhaps a distant part of you may remember him in dreams if my sister’s experiences are any indication, but you are exactly who you have always believed yourself to be. Learning about Eomer does not change you, it simply adds to the substance of who you are. The only person who can change that is you, not some vague recollection of a past that is not your life to claim."

"So this stuff up is all mine?" Eric looked at him and saw his brow furrow in confusion. "Stuff up - mistake," he explained.

"Ah," Elladan nodded in understanding, "if you mean the burden of her death, yes that is entirely yours but you were not responsible. She chose to help you knowing the risks, did she not?"

"Not fully," Eric confessed. "She thought that I was in danger, it never occurred to her that she might be as well. She was more interested in helping me because of what she felt for me?"

"She was your lady then?" He met Eric’s gaze.

"Not exactly," Eric shrugged. "She’s someone else’s lady, I just borrowed her for a bit and got sent to Iceland."

"I see," the elf answered, never quite understanding how humans could sever their bonding to a mate so easily. For elves, once the bonding was complete, it was permanent. One simply could not shift one’s attentions to another so easily. He supposed that it was the manner in which humans coped with their short existence.

"The truth is," Eric said after a long pause, "that I’m not very proud of myself at the moment."

"Why?" Elladan asked sympathetically, indicating his willingness to listen to Eric purge himself of his perceived shame.

"She left her husband because of me, because I meant something to her. It wasn’t just a brief affair to her. She cared about me, more than I ever imagined because she was willing to risk her life to help me. To me she was just another a woman I was going to have a good time with. I never intended to remain a permanent fixture in her life. I thought we would have our moment and then go our separate ways, I mean those are the rules right?"

It did not sound remotely proper to Elladan but he was not about to pass judgement. True, in the last hundred thousand years, there had been encounters but both were made with the understanding that these were the pleasure of the flesh shared by two who had found comfort in each briefly. There were no permanent attachments but Elladan was certain that the lady in question knew this before any intimacy was shared. "If you say so," he answered noncommittally.

"But it wasn’t that way for her and because she cared about me, she’s dead and I’m sitting here thinking about how many others, who wore their hearts on their sleeve only to be disposed when I was done with them. Jason used to say that I had a short attention span when it came to women and he was right, what a bloody prince I turned out to be." Eric said bitterly, the words feeling like ash in his mouth.

"You were not responsible for her death," Elladan offered, searching for the words that would not waste this pain enlightenment that Eric was experiencing because it was indeed profound and would allow him to grow as a person. "That deed was undertaken by Sauron’s dark minions. However, take what you have learnt, what she had taught you and allow it to temper the manner in which you regard the next woman who catches your eye. Remember that these rules you take for granted may not be known to the hearts you risk breaking by your presumption."

Eric stared at Elladan absorbing his words, wondering what an elf would know about such things before Eric came to the conclusion that it did not matter whether or not he did, only that he was right. Dominique had cared for him, had seen him as more than just a womanizing bachelor who would probably move on to his next conquest once he had tired of her. She had died for her trouble and Eric would have to live with the consequences of that. However, at the moment, the pain of realization was too raw for him to see anything beyond his sorrow and shame. Perhaps tomorrow, he would think about it with greater depth and try to work things out in his head. Right now, he couldn’t face it. The glimpse of himself he had captured through the dark mirror of his understanding was not a image he could stomach and it would be a while before he could cast his gaze into its depths once again.

He was spared having to answer with the arrival of the others and Eric was secretly grateful for that. Perhaps once he could have explained to Elladan the depths of his feelings but that kind of connection to his inner self had died long ago. When he was a real writer who actually sat down at a typewriter and put words to a page, he might have been able to explain the change that had been thrust upon him at Dominique’s passing. However, the pure product of his talent had become diluted in the mire of television journalism and the truth that he had always revered was just as disconnected from him as the belief in its ideals.

"You alright?" Jason asked first, carrying a bag of crisps that he was crunching quite loudly in his mouth.

"I’ll live," Eric answered as he glanced at Elladan, thanking him silently for the supportive ear, even if it did little to alleviate his grief and shame.

"We’ll get those bastards," Jason retorted firmly, a glimmer in his eyes that indicated that despite his casual words, he cared deeply for Eric’s state of mind.

"Too bloody right," Eric said shortly and was surprised by how much he meant it. Dominique may not have meant as much as she should have to him in life, but he was determined that her death was going to be for nothing, that her sacrifice meant a great deal to Sam and Pip. He was determined that when those children were rescued, he would tell that.

He owed Dominique that much.

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

There were times she missed him so much that it was a physical sensation.

It was deep this longing for him, an ache that speared through her flesh, impaling her heart with piercing accuracy. She had been lost the moment she had given her body to him and had felt somewhat gratified at the realization that her love had taken him by surprise. He was accustomed to acquiring loyalty by the usual mechanisms employed by men of power, fear, pain and intimidation. His minions obeyed him because they feared his power and recognized his lordship over the dark. When she said she loved him, she suspected it had been the first time anyone had ever said those words to him freely and it pleased that for that moment at least, he had been unable to respond with his usual wit.

Still, she understood that he could never love her back. He was after all a god and one could not expect a god to bestow upon one human such a gift when so much of himself would be lost by its admission. He showed her his affection in his own way and for that Irina would die a thousand deaths for him and do with as much devotion as his Nazgul servants. It pleased her that his feelings for her stayed Morgul’s hand when anyone else would die if they spoke to him the way she did. It gave her strength to make the hard choices to get him back, to retrieve him at all costs even if it meant tearing down the walls of heaven and earth to see him again.

The plan which had been so well thought when the Miller children came into her hands was taking some rather unexpected turns. She had assumed that once the children were taken, their parents would wait to be contacted so she could dictate the terms of their release. However, what control she thought she had by having the children brought to her in David’s German residence was becoming tenuous at best. This had come about because of the very unexpected awakening of the Silmaril. She had not factored the presence of elves when she had conceived her plan. With Eric Rowan somehow finding his way to Frank Miller, she had assumed that the archaeology would give up the stone in the journalist’s possession in return of his children. After all, what parent would risk their children’s lives on a jewel that had absolutely no value to him?

However the awakening of the Silmaril had shut down the city of Oslo and so the contact she intended to make with her quarry could not come to pass. Whilst the city remained in its state of limbo, she had no way of tracking them, save sending the Nazgul after them. Thanks to the activation of the Silmaril, there were now too many interested parties honing in on the city and the epicenter of the wave. Her contacts told her that Oslo was at the moment filled with so many operatives of military intelligence from the either sides of the Atlantic, all clamoring to find what had caused a disaster that did not even half the inconvenience of nuclear fallout. She would have sent the Nazgul to find them but where?

It was not until she was notified from their Australian branch that the wife of one of their agents were seeking information regarding the Harz Mountain estate did Irina have some inkling of Frank Miller’s present whereabouts. Of course the operative had taken care of the women easily enough. Sydney was a busy city and terminating the life of one woman was hardly an exertion. However, the information she had attempted to secure had provided Irina with undeniable proof regarding the enemy’s course.

They were coming here.

It should have pleased her that they were but for some odd reason it did not. Instead of being confident that their arrival here would only allow the Nazgul the opportunity to contain all their enemies in one place, all Irina could feel was this nagging doubt that things were spiraling out of her control. As a scientist, it was an ingrained need for Irina to be in control of every situation. She knew from experience that the experiments that usually went awry were the ones that deviated from its original course and this plan of hers had done so considerably since its inception. She was beginning to reconsider the entire notion of using Frank Miller as bait to draw the Valar’s attention. Perhaps it would be simpler if she simply had the entire group killed and took the Silmaril herself to Valinor.

Those who held David captive could not ignore something of such significance and she still had Frank Miller’s children, hidden deep in the mines below them. Yes, the plan needed modification but it could still work. With this in mind, she sent for Morgul who had remained with his brothers in the Domain – what he called the Harz Mountain residence, because he was certain that his nemesis would eventually find her way here.

Considering what Irina now knew, she supposed the wraith was not far wrong.

She waited behind her desk as he entered the office, experiencing a chill as always when he was in her presence, despite the sun against her back through the huge window. The pasty white mask gave away nothing and the dark glasses that hid his crimson eyes from the world always added to her discomfort. She wondered how terrifying these creatures must have been when they were at the height of their power and knew it was a dangerous game she played with him. She knew that Morgul in particular disliked her, believing that she was an indulgence his mater could ill afford to have.

"They are coming," Irina replied, mincing no words with him.

His chest filled with air and Irina wondered if these creatures actually breathe or was it just an echo left behind from the memory of the human bodies they no longer possessed.

"I told you this would be so," he said in that slow hissing voice.

"You appear to be correct," Irina answered. "They haven’t discovered exactly where we in Germany we are but I would not underestimate them by assuming they will not find out. We should make preparations to receive them."

"We should kill them," Morgul said sharply. "They have become more troublesome than they are worth."

For once Irina agreed with him. "You are right," she nodded and saw him rear his head in surprise. "I would still prefer Frank Miller captured alive, however if that is not possible then do away with him like the rest of his friends. He has become more trouble than he is worth. We still have the children and with them, we can bargain with the Valar. I am certain that Bryan Miller will be more motivated to convince the Valar to release David once he learns that his nephews had been orphaned because of him."

"Yes," Morgul hissed slowly, allowing himself to feel a wave of pleasure at being finally allowed to vent the full measure of his vengeance upon his hated enemy. "We should allow them to make their way underground," he volunteered readily.

"Do you think that our minions below will be able to deal with them?" Irina asked.

"Our lord selected Celebdil as a home for his secondary fortress for good reason. The mountains may appear slight to your eyes but they are very old and their innards hide great depths and host many creatures that will in time service our needs. Those that you can see are only but a few. There are fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world." Morgul responded staring at her hard.

Irina shuddered aware of the ulterior motives that Saeran had in building his fortresses where he had. In Romania, once Mordor, he had constructed his domain on the ruins of Barad-dur, the ancient capital of his kingdom. Here on the peak of the Harz Mountains, which he had often called Celebdil though he would never explain why, he had built this fortress and often allowed Morgul and his brothers to command the creatures existing in the underground caverns below. After the destruction of the Romanian domicile, Irina had sent all the Uruks that had not been killed to the hollow places inside the mountain. David’s presence kept the creatures below in check for they were deathly afraid of him. However, his absence made them complacent and thus the arrival of the Uruks had provided a fresh reminder of where their loyalties ought to be.

"I hope you are right," Irina returned. "Your incompetence has cost us dearly already. Too much of this plan has gone astray because you could not recover the Silmaril from two humans."

Morgul hissed loudly, a chilling sound that revealed his anger. He reached across the desk and grabbed her once more, his cold grip against her skin like ice.

"Release me," she ordered as he pulled her across the desk and raised his hand to strike.

"You are nothing but a receptacle for his seed," Morgul hissed. "Do not presume to judge me or my brothers. Our alliance is borne out of necessity. I could kill you now and offer the resources of this organization to another more pliable if I so wish it. I do nothing of the kind for the sake of my master alone. You amuse him and that is the only reason why your head is still connected to the rest of you, flesh sac. Speak to me in the same manner again and I will kill you."

"You wouldn’t dare," she glared at him, determined not to be afraid because Morgul like to posture and she had enjoyed David’s more brutal expressions of love to be frightened of the wraith’s grip on her.

"He knows my value. He will destroy me out of anger and let me vanish to the shadow realm but only a while," he gloated. If Morgul still had flesh, he would be smiling. "When he requires me and when my penance is done, I will serve him again. You however, will be replaced by a younger, preferably less vocal receptacle."

"Let me go!" She barked and then slapped him in good measure, unable to deny that his words cut to the bone more than they should. He barely noticed the blow and returned

He released her roughly, allowing her to fall back into her chair, before releasing a throaty laugh once that was almost as terrifying as his voice. She watched him turn away, the sting of his amusement in her ears as he proceeded out of her office, radiating triumph at winning this serve in their battle of wills.

Inwardly, Irina began to hope that Miranda Miller could manage an encore of their battle at Pelennor Fields and kill the son of a bitch.

***********

Taking a ferry through the channel between Denmark and Germany, they traveled southward trying to beat the sunrise but it became clear that by the time they reached Hanover, they would be exhausted. They had been journeying at a breakneck speed, pausing at intervals to rest or to acquire information or supplies. Considering what they were about to face when they arrived at Saeran’s mountain estate, it was unwise for them to make the attempt without acquiring some measure of rest. Miranda could not deny her comrades or her husband the respite because she knew what it was like to enter a combat situation when one was in terrible physical condition.

It was dark when they drove into Goslar, which suited them, fine because few people were awake at that hour of the morning and saw their entry into the community. Hailed as the Gateway to the Harz Mountains, it was a pretty German town with provincial air in its traditional architecture and cobblestone streets. While it was difficult to make any observations of real depth because much of the community was shrouded in darkness, enough was seen of Goslar to make that determination. They checked into the Hotel Hartzeff, which sat at the bottom edge of the woods covering the Harz Mountains. Delightfully luxurious, as most of the hotels were in a tourist town, the comforts provided went a long way to renewing their strength after the arduous few days.

Miranda found herself soaking in the tub, trying to bleed the tension out of her body and knowing that she would not be entirely able to do so, not while her children were lost to her. She was several kinds of aggression waiting to be unleashed and she just knew that if she did not get herself under control, she was going to get herself killed and be utterly no help to her boys. She sat in the tub with its covering layer of foam, her cheeks moist from the steam, thinking about Sam and Pip. What they must be thinking at this moment. She thought of Sam sitting with her in their garden, his small hands working oversized tools, enjoying the simple pleasure of being with mum as they planted flowers. She thought of how quickly he had taken to it, which was odd because he never really showed an interest in working the dirt, when Frank was out on a dig. She missed him beyond her ability to describe and Pip, who was her baby, who still engendered in her that perfect image of an infant cradled comfortably in her arms, made her want to weep.

She had promised to keep them safe. The first time she had looked into Sam’s face, she had promised that she would allow nothing to hurt him. After Belfast, after seeing so many dead children killed by bombs and guns, for arguments that held no meaning in this modern day except to those who would shed blood in its defense, she was determined her son would never know that kind of ugliness. When Pip was born, she had made the same vow. She wondered if every parent made that oath the first time.

The tears came before she was even aware of it.

She was sitting in the tub, sobbing loudly into her hands, wondering how she could have failed them. She wanted them to have no black memories, no terrible images to bury away in the night, no walls that kept the truth and the unpleasantness held back. Such walls had a tendency to shut out other things as well and she knew that because of her own, she had been rather disconnected from her children and her husband, no matter how much she loved them.

"Mir," Frank stepped into the bathroom, hearing the sobs from outside the door.

"Oh Frank!" She burst out.

He was at her side in seconds, embracing her hard even though she was wet and covered in soap. She buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed.

"Its alright luv," he said softly, caressing her wet hair, uncertain at what had brought on this burst of emotion but caring only that he could be hear to help her through it. Lord, the love he had for her. The unbelievably fierce emotion that ripped the thought from his mind at any harm coming to her person. Since she walked into his life, he had been in awe and while he knew that she would always be stronger than him in will, that she could these amazing things, even before the kidnapping, he was never threatened by it. Why should he, when his purpose for being was moments like this, to catch her when she fell.

"I miss them so much," she stuttered. "I promised them that I would never allow anything terrible to happen to them and I let those thing take them! I couldn’t stop it!"

"It wasn’t your fault," he insisted. "I was there, I couldn’t stop it either."

"But I should have known!" She pulled away, her face drenched with tears and anguish as she stared at him. "I always knew that something bad was going to happen because that’s how the world is, bad. There’s always something waiting in the darkness, something that will reach out and break you no matter how much you think everything is going to work out."

"Like Belfast?" He asked.

She paused a moment, her face etched in sorrow and Frank could see the debate taking place behind her eyes, the decision whether or not to trust him with this secret he had all but guessed years before.

"Yes," she nodded slowly, "like Belfast."

"Tell me what happened, Miranda?" He coaxed gently. "Help me to understand."

"It was routine," she said softly, her eyes dropping to the foams covered water, watching the bubbles burst silently into nothingness. "It was just a simple drop. I was to pass Bryan some information. He was my contact back then. I was under deep cover with a splinter IRA group, real fanatics. My mission was to get close to its leader, find out what his plans were. I found out he was going to blow up a government building in town somewhere so I contacted Bryan to pass the details of the bombing so it could be stopped. Unfortunately, it was a trap and we were both caught."

Frank tensed and tried not to show how distressed he was at learning how close his brother had come to death and he had never had the slightest inkling of it. How many times had Bryan walked into the fire without Frank ever being aware of it? Even though they were as close as brothers could be, Frank had noticed the rift that had been created because of Bryan’s work. Was this why?

"They almost killed him," Miranda continued, her eyes closed as she saw in her mind’s eye what Bryan had endured, the beatings, the electrical shocks and the knives. She remembered seeing his blood across the concrete floor, a sight that still haunted her dreams. She remembered his screams because after two days of continuous torture, he ceased to care who heard him. "Your brother was strong, he didn’t tell them anything. He didn’t tell them when they took me and tortured me and finally raped me."

She met his gaze then, waiting to see his reaction. A part of her was terrified but a part of her was also relieved that after so long she had finally uttered the words and was even more astonishing, it did not appear that world was coming to an end by his knowing.

"I guessed," Frank replied, reaching for her hand. "First time I met you, I knew it was something like that."

"I should have told you before this," Miranda confessed, fresh tears pooling in her eyes because she had underestimated him when he had done everything to prove his love for her during the past ten years. "I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. During the whole thing, I convinced myself it wasn’t me, just the person they thought I was - the one who betrayed them. I was staring at Bryan for most of it, terrified that his seeing it was what was going to break him. He cried you know, he cried that he couldn’t stop it. That he wouldn’t. He knew all he had to do was open his mouth and tell them everything and it would stop but he couldn’t."

Frank did not know whether or not he could have sat by and allowed such a thing to happen. He wanted to see his brother to talk about this. The world that Miranda and Bryan lived was a frightening one where the rules of common decency was a blurry line that often did not stand up to scrutiny against the overwhelming importance of their secret agendas.

"I never blamed him for that and I broke free, it was easy to do because those bastards thought that raping me meant I was finished. I wasn’t. In the service, we know that it could happen. Being female makes that a reality we live with. I thought if I could push it away somewhere inside me, I would never have to deal with the scars. When Bryan and I broke out of there, after we killed every one of those animals, he couldn’t even look at me until I told him I understood. I was Firm, just like him, I knew the rules of game. I thought I handled it well until I got home and started pushing people away, I didn’t even realize I was doing it and the more I thought about it, the more I thought it was easier to just end it all. And then one day something happened and everything changed," Miranda stared at him.

"What?"

"You," She smiled faintly, her face covered with streaks. "You came into my life when I needed you most. I don’t know if I ever told you how much loving you saved me. You think that what you’re finding out about me now is intimidating? What I learnt from you was even more frightening. You showed me that there was more than just walls, that it was okay to feel completely without having to guard emotions or to be in control. You were the best surprise Frank and I don’t think I ever told you how much you I love you, for what you taught to me and for the sons you gave me."

Frank captured her lips in a passionate kiss, holding her against him as their bodies met over the edge of the bath. He held her, unaware that there was moisture in his eyes. "It was my pleasure," he said with just as much emotion in his voice, "I love you Miranda, no matter what happens tonight, I will always love you."

And he meant it because if they failed to save Sam and Pip, then it would be all they had left.

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

"There it is," Miranda said as she crouched low behind the cover of trees.

"Its right in the open," Jason declared seeing the mansion that sat on the peak of the mountain. The trees had been cleared in order to accommodate the estate and though the tree line was encroaching the fence line, there was still enough of a gap to ensure that any approach would be seen.

"We can still make it," Miranda frowned, wishing that there was more cover as she looked through the binoculars. "We’ll definitely have to move under cover of dark."

"A place like this will have security," Jason added, "probably lots of it."

"Not to mention the Nazgul will know that we are approaching if we are carrying the Silmaril," Elrohir reminded.

"For all we know," Miranda gazed at her two companions as they quietly observed David Saeran’s estate from the tree line, "they could already know we’re here."

"So much for the element of surprise," Jason frowned.

Leaving the others behind, the trio had emerged in daylight to carry out something of a reconnaissance mission so that when they returned at nightfall, they would have some idea as to the lay of the land. Unfortunately, all that had been achieved upon seeing the considerable vantagepoint utilized by the mansion in its positioning at the top of the Harz Mountains was how difficult their approach would be.

"We’ll manage," Miranda said quietly, determined to let nothing come between her and her children. There are four guards on each wall of the grounds. They look human enough."

"Five," Elrohir remarked, squinting his eyes to focus. "There is a further sentry at the far end."

Miranda lowered her binoculars and scowled at the elf who did not need any such device to see that distance. "Show off," she accused, drawing a smile from him.

"My elf eyes see a great deal," he shrugged, grinning.

"Right," Miranda rolled her eyes and faced the fortress once more. "We’ll have to take out the guards on the western wall. It’s closest to the tree line."

"If I could get close enough, I might be able to see what kind of electronics they have in place," Jason sighed with disappointment, "but no way I’m getting a look without being seen."

"He built his fortress here for good reason," Elrohir remarked, "its easily defendable."

"What was the name of it again?" Jason asked remembering that the estate had an interesting name when they had asked the locals directions to reach it.

"Celebdil," Elrohir answered before Miranda could. "Sauron remembers his elvish."

"Elvish?" Miranda stared at him. "Celebdil is elvish? What does it mean?"

"It was not so much a meaning as it is a name," Elrohir declared, his mind having recognized the Harz Mountains for what it was once he had learnt the name of Sauron’s bastion here. Many of its features had been eroded away; the land had been contorted and twisted. Imladris should have been north of here but Eru’s shaping of the land had left it southwards. Elrohir did not begin to understand the creator’s motives but once he had learn the name of these mountains, he was able to discern where they were. "In my time, these were a part of the Misty Mountains. Celebdil was one of three peaks above the realm of Moria."

"Moria?" Jason rose a brow and felt something stirring inside of him. At first impulse, he would have deny flatly knowing anything about it but as the name lingered in his thoughts, there was something about it that felt almost familiar.

"Yes," Elrohir nodded, "Moria was the home of the great dwarf kingdom of Khazadum. However, by the time you and the Fellowship journey through there, it was abandoned."

"I was there?" Jason exclaimed. "I mean here?"

"You were forced to journey through the mines of Moria during the quest," the elf explained as if this were some trivial piece of information that he should be made aware.

"Come on," Miranda said shrinking away from the tree she was standing behind, "we should get back to the others."

Elrohir and Jason followed suit as they descended the steep incline that led to the bottom of the mountain where they had left the van. In a few hours, it would be dusk and they had yet to produce a plan that would allow them to invade the enemy’s fortress without completely giving themselves away.

"So he picked this place to build his fortress because of this Moria?" Jason asked as they set a brisk pace down the mountain.

"It is may be so," Elrohir answered, considering the question. "During the quest, Moria was inhabited by goblin and the balrog that Olorin slew on this peak."

"Balrog?" Miranda had to ask.

"Yes," he nodded, "a terrible beast of fire that was servant of Morgoth. They had not been seen for many ages until that time. It is believed that they were destroyed in the War of the Wrath"

Half of his words made little sense to his human companions but it was enough for them to feel a certain anxiety as to the presence of further such creatures. "I do not believe they exist any longer."

"What about these goblins?" Jason asked not quite convinced that there was nothing to worry about. After all, a good many things that were supposedly apart of the mythical world had in recent days become terrifyingly real. The world as he had known it had changed shape considerably and while the truth was nowhere as overwhelming to him as it was to Frank, Jason could not deny that it was a great deal to accept in so short a time. Suddenly words like ‘elves’, ‘dark lords’ and phantom creatures that did not die had become apart of his vocabulary. It was not so improbably that goblins might suddenly make their appearance as well.

"As far as I remember," Elrohir tried to recall the dwarves’ machinations in Moria following the War of the Ring. "There was an effort made by the dwarves of Durin’s line to reclaim Moria but all that was achieved was the destruction of the goblins who had given aid to the balrog during its reign in Khazad-dum. Many of their kin were lost during this occupation and the dwarves were not about to let their deaths go unpunished. An expedition was made to drive out the goblins after the death of the balrog that I believe was largely successful. However, the dwarves did not linger for too long after the enemy had been driven away. With so many dead, Khazad-dum was considered cursed and abandoned for all time. Sauron however, would have had great relish in establishing his stronghold here since during the war of the Second Age, Khazad-dum had sealed their doors to him and prevented his army from conquering it."

"So he built here to rub their faces in it," Miranda nodded in understanding. "Some sort of gesture prove that finally, Khazad-dum is his?"

"That is Sauron’s way," Elrohir nodded.

"What a bastard," she snorted and Elrohir could not say he disagreed with her opinion.

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

Frank listened closely to Miranda’s observations about David Saeran’s Harz Mountain fortress and felt a wave of disappointment at what she had discovered there. As Elladan had warned, the enemy most likely were aware of them. The Silmaril was a dead giveaway. The Nazgul may not be able to discern their position exactly so far away but they would definitely sense its presence. Unfortunately, the jewel was simply to valuable, not to mention dangerous to leave in anyone else’s care so they had no alternative but to keep it with them.

He listened to Miranda telling them what they discovered during their reconnaissance expedition and was glad to see she was handling the disappointment better. Since their talk earlier that day, Frank had noticed the renewed spirit in her wife’s manner. It was as if unburdening herself to him about Belfast had finally allowed Miranda some measure of piece and given her the focus she needed to get Sam and Pip back without wavering at every disappointment. The problem before them was considerable but instead of lamenting it, she was focussing on solving the crisis.

"So we’re stuffed," Eric declared bitterly, clearly stinging by the fact that the information Dominique had died to provide them was not yielding the results he desired.

"We’re at an impasse," Miranda corrected, "we simply have to think of another way."

"We could disable the guards," Elladan suggested, "however, I do not know how effective that will be since it is likely that the Nazgul will be present. They may be weakened by Sauron’s imprisonment in the Undying Lands but they are still a force to be reckoned with."

"It will take time to search for the children in that house," Elrohir added, "even if we are able to enter his domain without notice. Time is what we do not have. We could not search for them so without bringing down the entire fortress upon our heads."

Frank listened to their debate, silently taking all their suggestions and building himself a complete tapestry from which he could create a plan. It was a practice he had honed over the years as an archaeologist, bringing together fragments of information to construct something of value. Of course, this time it was not an artifact he was trying to explain but the survival of his children. He let their words drone in his ears, taking from their snippets of conversation what was of value and discarding the rest.

They needed the element of surprise.

They no longer had it because the enemy knew that they were here and if they did not, they soon would.

The Nazgul could sense the Silmaril. Humans could not.

The Nazgul would need to take charge of the Silmaril themselves. He doubted they would entrust the matter to anyone else, not when it was their master’s fate and by extension their own that hung in the balance. It was too important to them to lose and they would personally handle any retrieval of the jewel themselves rather than entrust to tasks to any minion.

"We need a distraction," Frank finally spoke silencing the others who were listening.

"It would have to be a bloody big distraction," Eric remarked staring at the archaeologist.

"It is," Frank nodded. "It’s going to be me."

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

It did not surprise Irina Sadko when the telephone call she had been awaiting for the past few days finally arrived.

She was at her desk, pouring through reports from various contacts, seeking any information regarding the present whereabouts of Frank Miller. As last report, the archaeologist and his companions were in Denmark since the telephone call that Eric Rowan had made to his friend Dominique in Sydney had originated from there. At that point, the journalist had been seeking the location of the mansion in Germany and there was no reason to assume that he would not have acquired the information from other sources since Dominique had been unable to respond. Contacts placed at strategic travel centers from Denmark and northern Germany had kept watch for the travelers because Irina was almost certain they would be heading in this direction.

And she was right.

The Nazgul had sensed the presence of the Silmaril but they could not sense where the jewel was. It felt close but also distant at the same time. Morgul had attempted to explain but Irina had paid little attention, since the information was useless unless he could actually pinpoint the jewel’s exact location. He and his brothers had wanted to set out immediately in search of Frank and his companions but Irina had stayed his hand because there really was no need. As long as their children was in her power, Frank and Miranda Miller had no alternative to play her game despite leading them on a merry chase the past few days.

"Professor Miller," Irina said smoothly after Frank had introduced himself to her. "What can I do for you?"

"I think you know," came the equally measured reply.

"You are a difficult man to contact Professor Miller," she continued. "This would have been so much more expedient if you had stayed put and let us find you."

"I seriously doubt that," he said dryly, not believing it for an instant. "I’ve seen your Nazgul’s handiwork. I don’t intend to end up the same way as my colleague Professor Skogull."

"An unfortunate situation," she answered not at all concerned, "however, let us not mince words. I have your sons and you have something that belong to me."

"It is hardly yours," Frank retorted. "However, it means nothing to me. I just want my children back."

"Then we can do business," she eased back into her chair with a little smile of triumph, grateful that at last, they could see daylight at the end of this tunnel. Very soon, everything she had dreamed off since discovering the Silmaril had been unearthed would come to pass. Soon, David would be with her again. The thought sent shivers of delight through her skin.

"Meet me at Alter Bahnhof in one hour," Frank said curly, "bring my children and you can have this damn jewel."

She knew the place, it was the venue for an old train station. A main route for those travelling into the heart of Goslar from the north. "I need more than the jewel," she insisted. "I need you."

"That’s not the agreement," he said firmly. "You bring my children and you have the jewel. We’ll go our separate ways and trouble each other no further."

This was a trap, Irina was certain. She wondered if he thought her so naive as to trust that he would not attempt to deceive her. If there were elves in his company than the Professor would have been appraised of the Silmaril’s value and the possible reason that she wanted to acquire it so desperately Everything she knew about the man thus far indicated that he was not a coward. One did not stay a step ahead of the Nazgul by being a fool. No, she was certain that he intended to keep his children and the Silmaril.

"If that is the way it must be," Irina answered after a brief pause. "Then I shall bring your children and take what belongs to me. Bear in mind that should you choose to deceive us, I’ll have the killed before your eyes. I would do it out of sheer spite. Do we understand each other?"

She heard his breath quicken on the other end of the line and knew he was restraining his anger.

"Yes," he answered sourly a moment later. "Perfectly."

"Excellent," Irina replied with a smile the Professor could not see. "We will meet shortly."

Once the connection between them was ended, Irina sent for the Nazgul. Morgul as always led his brothers into the office and wondered if they looked to him for leadership because of David’s disappearances or because he was chief among them. Whatever the reason, she spared little time in considering it deeper. They were David’s creations and other than their usefulness to retrieving what was his, she had very little feeling for them and utterly loathed Morgul most of all.

"He is here as you suspected," she announced.

"We will find him," Morgul said beginning to turn away when Irina stopped him.

"He has agreed to the trade," Irina said quickly. "He expects you to arrive in one hour at the Alter Bahnhof so that he can exchange the Silmaril for his children."

"He will be disappointed," the Nazgul said without hesitation.

"That is for certain," Irina nodded. "You will retrieve the Silmaril from him and kill everyone else. We need only the Professor. The others are merely inconveniences."

"And the children?" Morgul hissed loudly, his heart still craving for vengeance against the maiden of Rohan and her present incarnation.

"They are not to be harmed until the Professor has jumped through an adequate number of hoops first. Keep them where they are," she declared. "They will not be causing much mischief in those depths."

Morgul nodded in agreement but he had something else in mind.

************.

How long had they been in this dark place?

Sam honestly could not tell because the lack of sunrise and sunset made it difficult to tell how many days had gone past. It must have been many though, he thought to himself, wishing he had been able to read clocks and watches a little better. Of course, he had no watch to speak of so it was most likely a skill that would have gone to complete waste even if he did know how. Thoughts like this, racing with disorientation from light depravation and a lack of sleep, filled his thoughts. Pip still had not spoken and continued to stare into the darkness and at their sentry who stood sphinx like at the entrance of the cavern that was their cell.

"I wonder how many of them there are," Sam spoke to Pip even though he was accustomed to that by now. It would take mum and dad to find them before he was able to escape this abyss that had ensnared him.

"They’ve been here a long time," he continued, cringing a little when he heard their excited voices beyond the walls of their cavern. He hoped the big Uruk Hai guard could keep those creatures away from them. It was strange how he came to rely on one monster to protect them from many others.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps, heavy and ominous approaching the cavern. He sat up straight, his body becoming a rigid as he felt the same chill creeping along his spine in an all too familiar sensation. He knew who it was before the person actually arrived. After the last three days of being in the presence of its hatred and malice, it was impossible for Sam not to sense when the Nazgul appeared at the doorway. The Uruk bowed his head slightly at being in the presence of the Black Rider, almost as if he was in church praying to God or something.

Pip had started to shudder. His small body quivering in fright because even in his possibly catatonic state, he recognized the evil air of the enemy. The Nazgul approach the cell, staring at Sam with those impassive mask in place. The young boy slid his arm around his brother, willing what dwindling courage he had into Pip’s body.

"Its okay Pip," Sam said quickly. "They can’t kill us if they want dad to do what they want."

He clung to this hope like a drowning man in a vast ocean clinging to a piece of flotsam.

"I’m afraid your brother is right," Morgul said as the door open and he reached through the cell to grab Sam’s arm. "However, we did not say anything about hurting you."

The blade speared through Sam’s shoulder and tore a scream from him without much difficulty.

"SAM!" Sam heard Pip squeal as the pain seared through his body.

He fell against the dirt about the same time as the blade in the Black Rider’s hand. As the pain swallowed him whole, the last thing Sam was conscious of before his mind fell into darkness was the fact that the blade that was only seconds ago stained with his blood, had suddenly disappeared in a puff of black ash.

NEXT CHAPTER

RETURN TO MAIN PAGE