Part Thirteen
Bait

This was dangerous and he knew it.

As the twilight evening began to encroach upon the day, Frank looked at his watch and knew that it would not be long before the enemy arrived to claim their prize. He hoped that this very considerable gamble he was taking with his life was worth it but he knew he had little choice. The others needed a distraction in order to do what was needed and unfortunately, Frank was the only one who was capable of providing it. For his sons, he was willing to take the risk and his part in their rescue, despite his role, as decoy was nowhere as dangerous as what Miranda and the others were planning to do.

Glancing at his watch, he saw his appointment with the Sadko woman was looming closer and that she and the Nine would soon be arriving. at the dilapidated train station he had chosen as their meeting place. The station had been abandoned some time ago and was left to languish as paint peeled, metal rusted and brick turned dull from weathering and grime. The floorboards of the steps he was standing were equally worn and visible cracks appeared in the wood.

As far as he knew, the Pirnaer Station or Alter Bahnhof as it was known by the locals was build in the mid 1800’s as part of an incentive to provide the German people with an effective mass rapid transit system for the regions of Saxonia. Now it was a place for vagrants to take shelter during the night. He had seen syringes and various other drug paraphernalia when he was walking about the place earlier so this was definitely not the place to be at sundown, especially today.

Frank could not believe how alone he felt at this moment.

Throughout this entire affair, he had been blessed with the presence of the others, from Elladan and Elrohir to the even more ambiguous Eric Rowan and Jason Merrick. They were an eclectic group but the last few days had forged a deep friendship between them. Seeing Eric and Miranda together should have made him feel threatened but it did not. He could almost believe that they were brother and sister in another life. They certainly behaved that way together. He knew enough about sibling relationships to recognize what was taking place between them.

Through the madness of the last few days, these people had become his friends and now that they had set out on their own task, he felt utterly alone and vulnerable. It surprised Frank how much their presence had lent to his own strength during this entire affair. During their journey from Norway, he had been spending his time keeping the twins appraised of everything that was happening because their lack of understanding in the modern world. The scholar in him rose to the occasion to help the two elves. When he was not doing that, he was playing foil between Jason and Eric whose relationship for some unfathomable reason reminded him of the dynamic between Mel Gibson and Danny Glover in the Lethal Weapons films.

And then there was Miranda who had been keeping a dreadful secret all these years, not from him but rather from herself. He suspected that as long as she kept the truth hidden, she did not have to suffer the indignity of what had happened to her. Telling him had forced her to confront it and he had seen the surprise in her face when she realized revealing it had not changed anything. He still loved her and always would. If they ever survived this nightmare, Frank wanted to talk to Bryan about it because there were some thing about Belfast that he needed to ask his brother.

Frank heard the cars long before he saw them and immediately fought the instinct to get into the rent-a-car he had hired and start driving. However, he maintained his composure and fixed his gaze upon the street from the steps of the station.

Judging from the low drone of the engines Frank could make out the approach of at least two cars. He made his way down the steps and stood beside against the door of his rented Saab, more than ready to flee if it looked like things were going to go badly. Miranda had not wanted him to do this alone but he had managed to convince her because the maternal instinct to go to her children was too much for her to ignore. He did not blame her for choosing the children instead of staying at his side. He was their father and faced with a similar choice, he would do the same because he knew Miranda could take care of herself. He supposed it was harder for her because she did not know that about him.

They would know by now that he did not have the Silmaril, Frank decided hoping that it would not alter the plan. He had to buy Miranda time and unless this Irina Sadko thought him a fool, would surely understand that he would not be stupid enough to produce the jewel until after he had some evidence that his children were alive. Nor did he believe for an instant the woman would actually bring Sam and Pip with her. No, they had secret agendas the both of them and it was a question of who would tip their hand first. He glanced at the sky and saw the sun was beginning its descent into the horizon, bleeding amber into the mountains as it disappeared.

The cars appeared on the street and slowed to a crawl. Even though their windows were tinted, Frank knew this was because they had seen him. The vehicles gleamed in the diminishing light, long stretched cars, with smooth black paintwork. It seemed curiously appropriate as the main mode of travel for the Nine. According to Elladan, the Nine had ridden horses in the day, black steed with crimson eyes that were reputed to see for them in the daylight. It had made his skin crawl thinking about it and yet despite how unbelievable it sounded, Frank knew it was true. He could feel it. Perhaps his mind no longer held any memories of his life as Faramir of Ithilien but his soul certainly remembered.

His slid one hand behind him and rested it on the chrome of the door handle when he saw the cars pulling to a halt in front of the old station. He drew a deep breath and steadied himself. While this sort of clandestine, cloak and dagger affair may be common place for Bryan, Faramir had little experience with such things and he was not ashamed to admit he was nervous. The wheels of both cars grated against the gravel as it came to a stop. Barely a fraction of second had passed after the engines had gone quiet before the door swung open.

The woman who emerged from the car was extraordinarily beautiful. Sultry eyes, full red lips and luxurious dark hair spilled over her face. It was a face that exuded sex and would have been terribly attractive to a dark lord who enjoyed the trappings of power and equally formidable women. He had but a moment to observe her as she climbed out of her car in her expensive clothes and heels, her eyes hidden beneath dark sunglasses because she had not arrived alone.

Their presence made him feel cold, like a shadow that had suddenly blocked out the sun. His skin crawled at the sight of these men, not men, these wraiths, in their dark suits and their Michael Myers like masks. There had been little opportunity to observe them earlier, because he and his companions had been too busy running from these bastards but now that they were on somewhat neutral ground, Frank had to confess that they were even more terrifying than ever. He could believe the stories the twins told him about these creatures, about their effectiveness in carrying out their master’s bidding. Frank was certain that half their power was the ability to intimidate and control others by fear alone.

"Professor Miller," Irina said walking up to him, one of the Nine was following her closely while the others fanned out over the area, attempting to block any effort he made to escape. "You have led us on a merry chase, haven’t you?"

"I take it you’re Irina Sadko, David Saeran’s lover?" Frank asked, wanting to clarify that this was indeed the woman who had almost killed his brother six months ago.

The corner of her lip crooked slightly and she turned a powerful gaze at him, "one and the same."

"He does not carry it," the wraith at her side hissed. "You do not have the Silmaril." He accused Frank.

His voice send fresh chills up Frank’s spine and it took a moment for the archaeologist to answer. Outwardly, it appeared he was deliberating his answer, however inside him was a struggle to carry out this play to its inevitable end.

"You do not have my sons so I suppose we are rather even on that score aren’t we?" He returned just as acidly, his courage renewed when he remembered that these bastards had Pip and Sam.

Irina shifted her head long enough to give the wraith something of a sharp glare before she removed her sunglasses and faced Frank with perfect ease on her face.

"Professor," she stared at him. "I am perfectly aware that this is a trap, that you do not intend to give me my jewel which is why I never brought the children. However, you are here alone, there is nothing to prevent me from having my associates take you by force and then deal with your successor in our negotiations."

"If I don’t call my wife within the hour," Frank said glaring at her with an expression of ice, "she is going to get a boat and sail to the middle of the ocean and drop your precious jewel in the drink. Let’s see you retrieve your master when the Silmaril is in the bottom of the North Atlantic."

"You’re bluffing," Irina challenged as the wraith beside her stiffened with anger.

"Am I?" He asked coldly, "I have no guarantee my children are alive. I’m supposed to take your word that you haven’t killed them already? I’m afraid that’s not going to do. I want to know that they are alive and until I know that, you can assume anything you like but you won’t get your hands on the jewel."

"DO NOT TEST US!" The wraith hissed in menace, taking a step towards Frank. "I almost killed Faramir in the Third Age and if it were not the cursed heir of Isildur, he would have died! Do not assume his fortune is yours. You may possess his soul but Faramir will always be the weakling child of Denethor and the lesser sibling of Boromir."

For reasons he could not understand, the wraith’s words struck at the core of him. It hurt even if he did not know why. "I don’t know what you’re talking about." Frank said thickly.

"I think you do," the witch king answered.

"Enough of this," Irina shot Morgul a penetrating look to silence him before she turned to Frank. "Your children are alive but keep us waiting any longer and we may not be so reasonable. Take us to the jewel now."

"Alright," Frank nodded, deciding he did not want to be in the company of these things any longer than necessary. By now, Miranda and the others were where they ought to be and if Frank could keep the Nazgul away for just a little while longer, there was every chance they could find the children. "Follow me," he turned towards the car.

"I think not," Irina stated firmly stopping in his tracks.

Frank froze, perfectly aware that the plan could go this way and though he did not relish the idea of being in their company when they learnt of the trap, he knew that he had no alternative but to surrender himself to their ministrations. It was part of the reason Miranda had protested so greatly about his role in this plan and why he would allow no others to accompany him. If everything went according to plan, his incarceration would be brief, if not he was willing to die for the life of his children.

"I would rather not be in your company," he declared, trying to talk his way out of it if possible, even though it was unlikely that they were willing to let him out of their site.

"You will ride with us!" The Nazgul’s cold hand clamped around his shoulder and pulled him away from the Saab.

"Take your hands off me!" Frank fairly snarled with such ferocity that the wraith released his shoulder, startled. Frank glared at him, still remembering what had happened to Hans, still remembering how these animals had killed the old man in cold blood without giving it a second thought. Throughout all this, Hans’ death had been pushed aside because they had more important things to focus their thoughts but confronting his killer had surfaced all of Frank’s hatred in a split second.

"Get in the car," Irina ordered, glancing at the dark vehicle.

"Fine," Frank said quietly, disappointment and fear surging through his veins. It was so thick that he could barely contain it but knew he must for the sake of his wife and children.

Casting a longing glimpse at the Saab and at the curtain of night that had finally descended upon the world, Frank walked to the open door of the black vehicle and felt curiously as if he was entering the maw of hell.

************* 

The sun had disappeared.

Elladan and Elrohir were standing at the edge of the forest and yet remained unseen through the thick branches that intertwined with each. They had moved stealthily, making little sound as only elves could do as they emerged in the darkness just beyond the trees. Armed with bows that were surprising lightly considering they were made of some kind of metal alloy, they stared at the low wall guarded by five sentries. The protection was needed because the height of the wall ensured anyone could simply climb over it and gain access to the grounds of the mansion. The guards in their darks suits, seemed oblivious to their presence because the eyes of men could not see so far ahead and what visual information they were able to garner was obscured by darkness. Elves of course, had no such limitations.

"You take the two on the left and I shall take the three on the right," Elladan said quietly.

"Why do you get three?" Elrohir asked.

"Because I am better with a bow that you are," his brother said with a smile, his teeth gleaming under the light of the moon.

"No you are not," Elrohir bristled with annoyance. "You are no better than I am."

"Hey," Miranda’s voice interjected from the cover of trees, "you want to get this bloody done or do you want to drop your pants and have me settle it with a ruler?"

"What?" Elladan looked over his shoulder in confusion.

"You don’t want to know," Eric warned helpfully.

The two elves frowned at each other before turning focussing on the task at hand. With arrow in the quiver slung across their back, they watched the quarry for a few seconds, continuing their vigil to ensure no one invaded their master’s domain. The sentries were human but this was expected. Secrecy was very much of a tool in Sauron’s machinations in Arda this day. The Uruks that had been created were most likely hidden away until they were needed, kept from the sigh of men who would not understand what they were.

"On the count of three," Elladan said to his brother who nodded promptly in agreement.

"Minë....atta.... neldë!"

No sooner than the word had been given, Elladan let loose the bow and promptly reached for another in order to shoot again. It was said that Legolas Greenleaf could do to arrows at once but then he was the greatest of all elven archers. In any case, the first arrow struck its target with shocking efficiency, slicing through the throat of the enemy without allowing him time to scream. He toppled over as his comrades began to react to his death but their shock had no sooner registered before they too were assailed with similar arrows.

One by one they fell, both twins aiming to ensure that each arrow met its target in a place where they would be killed instantly, without being able to cry for help. The carnage lasted for less than ten seconds but when those moments had passed, the place where the enemy had stood guard was now covered with corpses.

"It is clear," Elrohir spoke to the others awaiting their signal.

Miranda, Jason and Eric appeared not long after he had spoken, dressed in dark clothes and carrying backpacks each with rifles slung over their shoulders. While Miranda and Jason had little trouble with the weight, Eric appeared as if he was very uncomfortable with wielding a weapon. The notion brought a faint smile to Elladan’s lips considering how fierce a warrior Eomer of the Mark was reputed to be. He supposed Eric was not that different from Aaron who felt the taking of life was rather abhorrent. While in some ways, Aaron was very much like Aragorn, there were other ways where he was totally different. However, the spirit of the soul remained and though the twins knew that like Aragorn, Aaron would suffer the Doom of Men, it was good to know that their parting would not be forever.

"Quickly," Miranda prompted them into moving as she hurried towards the wall, aware that they were most vulnerable when they were crossing the space between the wall and the tree line. Even the dark could not provide ample protection from discovery. The others followed her without question because during their earlier reconnaissance she had sighted the two cameras perched on either end of the wall. Miranda had tested it as best she could, determining where the blind spot was and there was one because the cameras were placed too far at each edge. It was assumed that it the wall did not require more protection then that since there were five men guarding it at all times. However, now that those men were dead, she knew she could move safely without giving themselves away.

They crossed the space quickly, keeping in pace with Miranda who was leading the way. It was difficult to cross the distance with what they carried but with no idea of what lay within the confines of the mansion, it had been a necessary precaution. She carried with her some things the others did not know about because she was certain that they would be uncomfortable if they she had told them. It was Jason’s tenure in the military that allowed him to understand her actions and she felt most at ease with him. Apparently, Merry the hobbit had been instrumental in helping Eowyn kill the Witch King of Angmar, the Nazgul that now hated her with such passion. Despite herself, Miranda was pleased for his presence.

Reaching the wall, they stood pressed with their back against it as they waited for a moment for any indication that they were discovered. After a few seconds, Elladan spoke out.

"They are unaware of us," he said quietly. "I do not hear any sound that might indicate otherwise although the darkness from this place is very disconcerting."

"Yes," Elrohir nodded. "There is great evil here."

"Perfect," Eric grumbled.

"Quiet," Miranda barked as she looked up at the wall upon turning to face it. Jumping up, she caught the edge and climbed over it in one graceful movement, surprised by how much of the training remained buried within her psyche even after all these years. There was ache in her limbs from the climb and she longed for the days where she would hardly notice it but a decade was a long time, no matter how much stayed with her.

Surveying the grounds as far as her vision would allow, she was able to assess the situation thanks to the dim illumination of outdoor lighting scattered over the manicured lawns. Like any mansion, this one had its walks and gardens, no doubt heralding back to its past where ladies and gentleman strolled languidly through the paths because the highborn had really nothing better to do. However, she was grateful to see the bodies had yet to be discovered and no alarm was raised. In truth, barely a few minutes had passed since they been killed.

"Coast is clear, the rest of you up now," she ordered and swung her other leg over the top of the wall and allow herself to drop gently onto the grass.

The elves were quick to join her over the ledge followed by the humans who were hindered somewhat by their packs but managed to perform just as adequately. Miranda did not issue them any order when they were crouched low at the base of the wall. She glanced briefly at her companions and nodded before hurrying forward, not looking back because she knew that they would be following her. Making her way to where the bodies had fallen, she preferred to keep them out of sight for the time being. Even though it was likely that anyone who investigated would notice the gaping whole in security left by the disappearance of these guards, they would hesitate in raising the alarm for a few minutes while they tried to discern what had happened. She counted on buying little more than a few minutes but she knew how much those minutes could count when the alarm was raised.

"We need to hide the bodies," she said to the others when they reached her while pulling one body towards a nearby hedge.

With five of them engaged in the effort, it was not long before the handiwork was concealed and Miranda took the lead again towards the house.

There were numerous points of entry into the building itself for many of the doors were French doors that ran along every wall in the structure. A walkway surrounded the outer wall and supported the upper level with white marble columns. Miranda peered through the glass and saw no movement within. This did not surprise her because they had not acted until they saw the black cars leaving the mansion estate in order to keep the appointment with Frank. Miranda tried not to think of her husband or the terrible risks he was facing by playing decoy but there was no other way to save their children and for that, no peril was too great.

"Everything is quiet in there," Eric remarked to no one in particular.

"There are many here," Elladan declared, his senses penetrating the walls as if he could see through them, "I can feel their darkness but there is something not right."

"What do you mean?" Jason asked anxiously.

"They are here but also not quite here," Elrohir added, his own brow showing his concern. He looked at the structure and knew the danger was not emanating from the building. Slowly, his eyes drifted as he deepened his concentration, trying to use his senses to find an answer.

"They are below," Elladan exclaimed with a start.

"What?" Eric stared.

"They are below," Elrohir declared, agreeing with his twin that this was what felt odd. "It is logical, if this is Celebdil, the peak above the kingdom of the dwarves, then below us is Moria."

"Moria’s caverns are vast," Elladan added much to Miranda’s dismay. "If they were keeping your children then it is possible that the caverns below are where Sam and Pip are being imprisoned."

"We have to be sure," Miranda retorted feeling her heart sink along with the hopes of finding her sons alive.

"A place this big has security cameras everywhere," Eric suggested, the idea coming to him as the others were talking. "There should be a central room where security can monitor all cameras. If we can find one of those, it will give us an idea of whether or not the kids are in the building or in whatever this Moria place is below."

"Alright," Miranda silenced them all with her interjection. "Slight alteration of plans. We find security and see whether Sam and Pip are above ground. If not, we’ll have to find the way down to this place. If you’re right," she glanced at Elladan as she spoke, "if this place was built over Moria then it’s likely that Saeran probably built a way down there from the house itself."

"That’s a big assumption," Jason pointed out.

"We don’t have a choice," Miranda said curtly, "Frank is buying time but its not going to last long. When they work out he’s tricking them, it won’t take long to realize what we’re really up to."

Miranda did not add that when the ruse was discovered, there was every possibility that they could kill Frank out of spite. She could not let that happen without finding Sam and Pip first. Frank had been confident they needed him alive but Miranda was dubious. Still, if the worst came to pass, Miranda was determined that it would not be in vain even if it meant she would die with him.

"I’m tired of this," Miranda said finally and pulled the backpack from her shoulders.

"Keep watch," she asked as she began rummaging through it. Elladan and Elrohir reacted immediately because their heightened elven senses made them more capable for the task than anyone present.

"What are you doing?" Jason asked as Miranda found what she was looking for.

"We’re running out of time and we need the information quickly," she answered before she removed her hand from the knapsack and caused Jason’s eyes to widen.

"Is that what I think it is?" He blurted out as she walked to one of the columns and placed the small device against its length.

The small black box was a construct of dark metal with a single red light on its surface. Miranda removed the adhesive beneath the object and secured it against the stone. When she was done, she hurried back to her backpack and retrieved another.

"Are you crazy?" Eric stared at her realizing why Jason was so fraught with anxiety at the appearance of the small devices. "I thought we were making a covert entry, you know trying to be quiet?"

"Don’t worry," she said with a little smile as she attached the second device against another column, "it won’t that much a bang."

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

Beads of sweat rolled down his skin as he told the driver to take another turn.

He could hear the sounds of growing in discontent within the vehicle as he offered this instruction to the driver and was perfectly aware that his efforts to stall for time was failing fast. They had been driving around the town for almost an hour now and with Frank leading the car through the narrow streets, passing local landmarks as they traveled to the place where the Silmaril was meant to be waiting. His route took him past several tourist haunts such as the Cathedral of St Simon and St Jude built in 1040, a historical chapel, the old town hall known to the locals as Rathaus and even the tower called Zwinger. He knew that eventually he would be found out but Frank had hoped to delay that inevitability as much as possible. He had studied a map of the community earlier on and tried to memorize the route he would force them to travel.

"Are we almost there yet?" Irina asked, her voice full of skepticism as she stared at him.

"Yes," Frank nodded, "we’re very close."

"Then why do we not sense it?" The Nazgul he had come to know as Morgul accused.

"We must be still too far away I suppose," Frank shrugged.

"This is a trick!" Morgul grabbed him by the throat. "What are you doing?"

"LET HIM GO!" Irina ordered. "Kill him and we have no answer!"

The wraith shot her a look of pure venom and released Frank who promptly felt back in his seat coughing hard.

"I tend to believe my associates’ belief this is a ruse," she said once Frank had managed to compose himself. "What are you hiding from us?"

"Nothing," he said ineffectually, "I was taking you to the jewel."

"We are not fools," Irina returned sharply, "it is clear that you are delaying us. From what, allowing your companions to hide it beyond our reach? If so why contact us at all...." her voice drifted as she began to understand.

"TURN THE CAR AROUND!" She shouted. "Take us back to the mansion!"

Frank saw the Nazgul starting to realize what Irina had discovered and lunged for the door of the vehicle, hoping that he could be get past them and escape, even if the car was travelling quite fast. Unfortunately, it was a risk he was never allowed to take because Morgul also moved with surprising speed and slammed him back in place. His body ached despite landing on cushions because the creature’s strength was quite considerable and Morgul had expended a good deal of it to keep him restrained.

"An interesting if somewhat dangerous plan," Irina said with irritation, never expecting they would be foolish enough to invade the mansion to retrieve the children. She had assumed that the ambush would come when they were taken to the Silmaril and the children were produced, not this ludicrous plan to breach the mansion. "Do you think that it would be a simple matter for your wife to lead her band of rabble into the mansion and simply take the children? You underestimate us Professor," she shook her head in disgust. "You think that I would not have taken precautions to hide them beyond your reach?"

Frank’s heart sank when he heard those words and wondered what trap Miranda and the others were walking into. Worst yet, where were the children if they were not at the mansion?

"Where are they?" He demanded no longer caring what happened to him.

"Somewhere you will never find them," Morgul said with sinister glee, "and even if you do. If may not be as pleasant a reunion as you hoped."

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

They sneaked into the house after Eric had displayed the rather interesting talent of being able to pick the door lock. Apparently being a roving journalist required him to enter places that were barred from him to get his story and it was certainly stealthier than Miranda’s own approach which was to break the door in. The doors allowed them entrance into what appeared to be a parlor room of some kind that was fortunately unoccupied at present. Eric supposed that other than the staff, the mansion remained mostly empty until Saeran or one or Irina Sadko chose to take up residence.

"How long do we have until those charges go?" Jason asked.

"As long as we want," Miranda said calmly, showing him a small device that had a triggering mechanism on its face. "Its remote."

"Good," Eric replied. "I’m still not happy about blowing things up."

"Do all you humans employ this destructive force so readily?" Elladan asked, still remembering their assault on the Malcolm Building and what Aaron Stone had wrought upon Morgoth and his minions during that battle.

"It works," Miranda replied before she sneaked out of the room with the others following. No doubt the bulk of the security measures for the mansion was dependent on no one breaching the exterior perimeter. Once inside the mansion itself, the only thing they had to worry about were security cameras but they were easy enough to avoid.

"Do you hear anything?" She asked Elrohir as they prepared to emerge from the room. Thanks to the elves’ superior hearing, they were given reasonably ample warning whenever anyone approached. She sighted a shadowy space beneath the sweeping staircase where the front foyer culminated and decided that it was large enough to conceal all of them when the charges were finally detonated.

"Nothing," the elf said confidently. "It is safe to proceed."

"Okay," she glanced over her shoulders, "single file everybody, one after the other, Elladan, you cover our rear. You’ll hear someone coming long before they actually arrive anyway." Miranda replied.

"I am at your disposal my lady," he smiled, admiring her leadership and her keen tactical mind.

"Sure you say that now," she replied, "where were you when I was twenty and a dress size smaller?"

Before Elladan could retort, Miranda darted out of the room, followed swiftly by the others. They made straight for the staircase, their feet making soft sound against the wooden floor as they crossed the distance. Miranda pressed her back against the wall and waited as the others joined her beneath the staircase.

"Everybody," she said producing the detonator in her hand, "brace yourselves."

Elladan and Elrohir immediately covered their ears. If the humans could barely stand the roar of explosion, then they would hear it with even greater clarity. Miranda saw Eric drawing a deep breath, while Jason’s spine seemed to stiffen in preparation. For herself, there was little preparation as her finger pushed down on the triggering mechanism.

The explosion that tore through the air, shaking foundations and filling the entire building with such calamitous noise made Miranda covered her ears though it was not quite enough to stop them from ringing. No sooner than the explosion was heard, excited voices began to chatter throughout the structure. Voices and footsteps that coincided into a powerful orchestra of pandemonium that stretched throughout the building as guards and staff hurried to investigate the source of the explosion. Despite the roar from the explosion subsiding, there were still loud noises of debris crumbling against the floor. Miranda assumed that the columns toppling caused this, taking with it the balcony whose weight they supported.

They heard feet stamping down the stairs and shrunk back against the wall underneath the staircase, allowing the shadows to conceal them as men ran past. Elladan who was at the other side of their own column in the dark stepped out as the last of these guards hurried by. Capable of hearing if anyone was following, he emerged just in time to slam his elbow into the face of the straggler who had lost sight of his comrades when they turned the corner. The man had little time to cry out as he fell flat on his back, his head hitting the floor as he held his face in pain.

"Nicely done," Jason commended as Miranda pulled out her handgun and approached the man.

He was still rather disorientated and his nose was bleeding profusely as he clutched it. However, his senses had a sharp return to clarity when she jammed the barrel of her gun into his mouth.

"Where are the children?" She demanded looking very much like a lioness in some African savanna protecting her cubs.

"What?" He stammered through the metal held against his lips.

"Two children, boys!" She repeated herself, cocking the gun. "Where are they!"

"I don’t know!" He gasped.

Miranda clamped her fist around his privates and squeezed hard enough for him to cry out. She did not notice the corresponding wince that rippled across the faces of her male companions.

"Again, where are they?" She demanded. "The next time, I ask I won’t be using my fingers but rather this gun. I’ll splatter your balls across this floor if you don’t tell me where they are."

"Christ," Eric shuddered at the thought. "Tell her mate," he insisted. "I’ve seen her do it. It made me sick for a whole week."

Just to make her point clearer, Miranda removed the gun from his mouth and pressed it at the crotch of his pants. "Think hard before you answer or you won’t ever be getting hard again."

"They’re down below!" He shouted in terror.

Men were so predictable, Miranda thought to herself. "Down below where!" She insisted.

"Miranda," Elrohir warned, his senses detecting approaching danger. "We must go!"

"WHERE!" She demanded, shoving the steel even harder against his privates.

"Down this hall!" He burst out in a series of stutters and whimpers. "At the end of it is a lift, it goes down! We’re not allow there but that’s where they’ve been taken by Saeran’s personal guard."

"The Nazgul," Elladan concluded. "He tells the truth Miranda. He fears you too much to lie."

Miranda did not need to be an elf to know that much. She knew fear and she knew when one was experiencing it enough to break. This man in his dark suit was little more than bought muscle, to deal with the tasks that did not require the Nine’s particular talents. In other words, he was a thug.

"My lady," Elrohir exclaimed more insistently, "we must be moving!"

It not longer required elven hearing to realize this because she could hear the pounding footsteps approaching them from afar.

"Get on t moving then," she looked up at the others, "you heard him. At the end of the hall! Go!"

Jason and Eric started running first, followed by Elrohir. Miranda leapt to her feet, certain that the injured man from whom she had coerced the information was unlikely to follow.

"Come, " Elladan said, taking her by the arm and steered her past the staircase to the hallway that the thug had indicated.

They hurried down the hallway and saw that Eric and Jason had come to a pause at the end of the hallway where sure enough, there were a set of steels door and a control panel along the side. The lift was the intersection point for two other corridors and appeared clear for the moment. Suddenly, Elladan paused and turned around, his body stiffening into what she recognized as a battle stance.

"Are they close?" She asked.

Her response was met with a hail of bullets exploding in the air. As Miranda jumped to the floor, dragging Elladan with her, she shouted at her companions.

"GET DOWN!"

"Shit!" Eric exclaimed as he saw Miranda and Elladan hitting the floor. He had barely a fraction of a second to do the same before the bullets slammed into the wall and the lift doors behind him. As he remained on the floor, he saw a number of dark suited men heavily arm at the end of the corridor. They were preparing to fire again when suddenly; Miranda raised herself onto her arms and open fire with her own rifle. When she had said that the Heckler & Koch G36K could fire 750 rounds per minute, he had scarcely believed it. However, as the weapon discharged, Eric saw what how effective it was. The barrage was so deadly that it hit the enemy like a wall of bullets. Those who did not retreat up the corridor were cut down fast, their bodies jerking like marionettes before they fell.

"Where’s that damned lift!" Jason shouted as he got on his feet and pushed the button again.

"Jason!" Miranda barked in his direction, not an easy thing to do considering how deafening the sounds was. "I need help with suppressing fire! "

The cameraman was already on his knees, slinging his rifle from his shoulder to take aim. Pulling the trigger, they let loose and impenetrable wall of bullets that drove the enemy back. Meanwhile, Elladan and Elrohir were getting to their feet to take point at the other corridor. The twins were rearming their bows when suddenly, Eric saw the appearance of more men in that particular corridor. Without thinking, he raised his weapon to fire, pressing the trigger to let the bullets fly.

Nothing happened.

He cursed as his eyes made contact with the enemy, a small smile of triumph stretching across their faces. Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl as he saw Elladan and Elrohir raising their armed bows, in readiness to fire. Eric’s mind swept instantly through the instructions that Miranda had given him in the operation of these guns and fumbled at the weapon briefly before trying again. Pulling the trigger, he was prepared for more disappointment when suddenly, the very opposite happened.

The burst of fire that erupted from the barrel of the gun was so powerful that the recoil made him stagger back slightly. With his fingers still on the trigger, the projectiles cut a swathe through the enemy as the barrage of artillery joined the more elegant arrows in driving back the thugs who would stop them. He saw them tearing through the enemy, while some returned fire themselves. For a few seconds, he did not move as he saw the bodies falling to the floor, their blood spilling from wounds that he had caused. In the years that he had been reporting the news in some of the most war ravaged places on this earth, he had seen many dead people, their bodies torn apart by bullets and violence.

It was however, the first time that he had been the cause of it.

He stared in muted silence at the violence he had caused and barely noticed when the lift doors started to slide open. He was still staring at the dead, oblivious to the men still shooting, the arrows that were still cutting their numbers down. Bullets may have outnumbered the arrows but each one met its mark with expert precision unlike the former, which had a wide margin for error during delivery.

"Come on!" He heard Jason shout and turned his head just in time to see his best friend shoving him through the doors. Miranda was keeping the enemy at bay by continuing the barrage while Elladan had fallen back to use one of the ‘special’ arrowheads that they had acquired at Max Voight’s armory.

"Miranda!" Elrohir called to the woman who was relentlessly maintaining an assault of bullets along the hallway they had emerged to ensure no one would get through to them. "Go! My brother and I shall deal with this!"

Miranda saw that his bow was armed with the large, conical arrowheads and nodded briskly, retreating towards the open lift doors as Elrohir took her place and raised his bow to fire. She saw Elladan doing the same at the other corridor and lowered her weapon to enter the lift.

"Fire in the hole!" She screamed at Eric and Jason to take cover as the Elrohir released the bowstring and let the arrows fly. Once the arrow was on the way, both elves turned on their heels and raced into the lift to join the rest of their companions. Miranda jammed her finger against the one of three buttons on their lift to send it on its way.

One of the arrows hit a body, the other the wall. The explosions that followed in quick succession caused the walls to shake as columns of fire came rushing at them from the blast. The lift doors closed within seconds of the fireball reaching them and their ears were momentarily deafened by the noise as they felt themselves begin to move.

No one could speak for a few moments after. The memory of bodies, bullets and heat had left a parting impression on all of them. They looked at each other, feeling bonds already deep, solidify even more after the battle they had just fought together.

"Everybody alright?" Miranda asked after a moment, breaking the silence as the lift continued on its way. "Anybody hurt?"

"No," Jason said automatically but looked at Eric in concern.

The newsman was still somewhat stunned by the fact that he had spilled blood and Jason could tell. Jason had been apart of the peacekeeping forces in Bosnia during the tail end of the UN administration of the country and had been one of the helicopter pilots bringing in wounded and supplies. He still remembered how it felt when he was forced to defend himself against the enemy. Taking a life was no small thing and contributed greatly to his reasons for leaving the service. While he could kill if required, Jason did not have it in him to make a career out of it.

"You okay?" Jason asked Eric quietly, aware that his friend had endured some severe emotional battery the past few days, first with Dominique’s death and now at having to kill for the first time.

"I’m fine," Eric answered meeting Jason’s gaze with a slight nod. "I just never had to do it before, being the places we’ve been makes it look so easy but it isn’t, is it?"

"It is no small thing to take a life and end all it will ever be," Elrohir said with similar sympathy. "You did what was necessary."

"Absolutely," Miranda said putting her hand on Eric’s face, "look, I don’t have time to make this better for you. Its kill or be killed at the moment. I know its not bloody fair and in this day and age, we should be able to talk it out but the truth is the world is not like that and you know it. You’ve seen it enough in the places you’ve been. I know this is harsh but right now, I need you to get over it because we don’t have a choice. You can’t hesitate where we’re going, not for one second. If anything tries to stop you, you put a bullet in them and worry about the morality of it later."

"My lady," Elladan started to interject, "he has not acquired the calluses that came from battle experience."

"I know that," she met his gaze and Eric saw her eyes softened. "I can see for myself how much this hurts you and I wish there was some other way but there isn’t. Frank is up there, playing Russian roulette with the devil so that we can get to the boys. We have no idea what’s waiting for us where we’re going but I have to know are you up to doing what’s necessary."

"I am," he said firmly and with more conviction than he thought he possessed. "Dominique died because of these bastards. I won’t stand by and let the same happen to your boys."

Miranda smiled and lowered her weapon briefly to embrace him. "Thank you," she said softly in his ear, "I’m proud to be your sister, Eric."

He returned her smile with the same sentiment, "I’ll remind you of that later if I stuff things up,"

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

Like his companions in the car, Frank saw the smoke rising above the tree line as they approached David Saeran’s mansion estate. The tension in the vehicle was already thick enough to slice with a blade as Irina had been unsuccessfully attempting to contact her people at the estate to warn them of the intruders that were going to invade the domain. She had been largely unsuccessful and as the cloud of thick, dark smoke loomed larger in the window, Frank could understand why. It appeared that things were progressing more or less according to plan thanks to Miranda.

"This means nothing," Irina glared at him. "Your wife can reduce this building to rubble and it still won’t lead her to your children."

Frank did not answer because he was thinking up his own means of escape. Of course he was powerless in the car, trapped in such close confines with the Nazgul. However, once they emerged from the vehicle, he would make the attempt. The Nazgul did not see him as a threat and had not searched him when the forced him into the car. They most likely believed his vocation as an archaeologist ensured that he would know very little about guns and how to use them. In truth, they were not far wrong. He still felt uncomfortable about the weapon he had hidden under his shirt that kept reminding him of its presence by whenever he leaned back into the cushioned seat of the vehicle. However, Miranda had insisted he carry a gun for this rendezvous and had shown him briefly how to fire one.

"I look forward to meeting your wife again," Morgul added, attempting to break through the man’s determined resolve. "She and I have unfinished business."

"Unfinished?" He looked at Morgul, "I don’t see how you consider it unfinished since she killed you. Looks pretty settled to me."

"You know nothing!" Morgul snapped angrily. "The shield bitch had prophecy behind her. I could not be slain by men. For two thousand years I lived, bringing Black Death to all and I will not see that end because some upstart female had the audacity to stand in the field of battle like men. This time, when we meet it will not be I who are slain. It will be she and I will put aside this vile chapter of my existence."

"Good luck," Frank said skeptically as the car made the last leg of its journey towards the mansion.

As they approached, he could see a part of the mansion was on fire, a length of balcony had fallen away and there was a gaping hole in the series of columns beneath it. Some of the balcony had broken off entirely, creating a pile of debris beneath it. The rest of it was clinging to stay in place but gravity was working hard against it. Fire was burning through that section of the mansion and there were people scurrying back and forth trying to bring the destruction to some measure of control.

"When you find them," Irina uttered tautly to Morgul, "kill her first."

"Of that there will be no doubt," Morgul said turning to Frank with what the archaeologist was certain was a gloating sneer.

The car came to a halt in front of the main entrance to the mansion with Irina stepping out first, followed by Frank and the Nazgul in tow. Frank saw the others emerging from the vehicle as he climbed out of the vehicle, trying to decide his next course of action. He could not let himself be taken hostage to be used as leverage for blackmail against Miranda and the others. By the looks of it, Miranda was causing enough damage to give him the impression that she had some plan at work, plans he did not want to complicate by his capture.

A narrow window of opportunity presented itself to him as he saw Irina before him and though it was risky, he knew he had to make the attempt. If he did not, Frank was not sure when the chance would come again. Taking a deep breath, he slid his arm around her throat and pulled out the gun. In one swift movement that surprised him by its execution, Frank pressed the barrel of the gun against her head and forced her around to face the rather surprised Nazgul.

"Release me!" She demanded.

"Step away from the car!" Frank ignored her and shouted at the Nazgul who were producing their own weapons in response to his actions.

"What do you hope to accomplish?" Irina said in turn, her tone a mixture of impatience and anger but no real fear. "You know as well as I do, that you won’t kill me."

"Don’t be so sure," Frank shoved the gun harder against her temple, "you’ve taken my children! You’ve killed my friend. I’m entitled to a little vengeance!"

"Morgul," Irina glared at the Witch King standing before them both. "Do something and make it fast. We really don’t have time for this."

The Witch King assessed the situation before him and glanced at his brothers who knew his mind and agreed silently as to their next course of action.

"It is true," the Nazgul answered in a slow deliberating voice, "we do not have time to deal with this. The only thing of importance is the retrieval of our lord."

With that, he promptly raised his gun and fired.

The bullet slammed into Irina’s left eye, splattering Frank with blood, flesh and grey matter as he staggered backward when the discharge was made. He released her in stunned shock, watched her body fall to the ground trailing blood and making a sickly sound when she landed on the back of her ruined skull. Frank looked up at Morgul in astonishment, unable to believe the Nazgul had killed the woman whom he had believed to be his master.

"That was most satisfying," Morgul answered. "I have waited a long while to do that. I should thank you for the opportunity to do away with that meddlesome piece of flesh."

"You killed her," Frank stammered unable to comprehend why.

"No," Morgul shook his head and answered triumphantly. "You killed her or at least that is what our lord will be told when he returns."

Frank started to understand and did not resist when the Nazgul reached him and dragged him towards the house.

Part Fourteen
The Deep Places of the World

Beyond the edge of the world, Fred Bailey dreamed.

She dreamed of climbing a mountain that spewed ash and burning embers against her skin while her hands and knees were cut to ribbons over rocks that were almost transformed by the heat into glass.  She dreamed of hopelessness, of despair that reached into the soul and crushed her spirit like a vice. She dreamt of giving up.  And she might have if not for the voice that kept her moving, that forced her on her feet to cross the terrible places of her dreams, to ensure that she never forgot that there was a purpose to the pain. She dreamed of it constantly these days, ever since she had come to Valinor and was at last freed from the terrible whispers of the dark one who was now a prisoner beyond anyone's reach.

Sometimes, she almost remembered what he looked like, this other in her dreams that was not the dark lord that had plagued from her birth. When she thought of him, she was filled with warmth and affection, a feeling so powerful it sometimes overwhelmed her and she knew even if she never met him, that their friendship was the stuff of legends because together, they had changed the world.

She revealed nothing of these dreams to her parents who were really very new at the whole concept of caring for her and tried hard, much to her amusement, to be things she needed. Fred wished she had the words to explain to them that though they were not her parents who were murdered in their Cardiff home, they were very much her universe and she could not imagine her life without them. When she was in their arms, she felt safe and knew for a fact that both would do anything to ensure her protection.  They had come to this magical place because of her, Fred was certain. They never said it but she could tell by the glimmer in their eyes. They wanted her to forget the darkness that had blighted her young life and as much as she wished she could do that for them, it was a part of her now. 

Tonight she dreamed about him again but this time, he was not helping her through the darkness. It appeared that he was the one running, trying to outdistance the black cloud following him. He was panting hard, looking over his shoulder, trying to escape but it continued its pursuit relentlessly. It would run him into the ground before it would let him go and as she watched from a distance, she knew that it would catch him if she did not find some way to help.

Fred woke up shortly after dawn. Their house by the sea in the city of Tirion was quiet and Fred knew that Tory would still be asleep. Byran had gone with Aaron and Legolas to see the great fortress at Formenos built by someone called Feanor and would be back tomorrow. Bryan had been very excited about it as he always with anything to do with fighting; she had come to realize. 

Thus clad in her nightgown, holding the doll given to her by Ariel, Legolas wife, Fred made her way across the house to Tory's bedroom aware that she would not be intruding if Bryan weren’t there. She had learnt that lesson well enough from her parents.   The morning breeze moved across her skin as she walked through the house because the elves had built the building with many windows.  Fred liked it very much because it was always sunny and warm inside its confines and the windows had beautiful views of mountains and the sea.

She reached Tory’s door and twisted the doorknob, noting the almost silent breathing of her foster mother as she slept.  Tory was used to having Fred slip into the bed with her, especially when Bryan was gone or whenever she had a bad dream. While they were nowhere in the intensity she used to experience when she still lived at home with her parents, Fred sometimes still did have the occasional childhood night.  Of course none of those dreams compared to the deep sense of foreboding that had prompted her to rise from her bed in this morning. 

Upon entering the room, she saw Tory in a fitful sleep and regretted having to wake the woman who had been the closest thing she knew to a mother since her own had been killed by those terrible monsters, Black Riders, she called them secretly.  Climbing up onto the mattress supported by a large wooden bed, designed with ornate carvings that sometimes lulled her to sleep, Fred shook Tory awake who had yet to notice her presence.

“Tory,” she said quietly, shaking her arm.

Tory stirred but did not awake.

“Tory,” Fred tried again, a little harder this time.

Her efforts were not in vain as Tory rolled over in the bed to face her. Forcing her eyes open, she gazed at Fred after a moment of disorientation.

“What’s the matter darling,” Tory said propping herself up on one elbow and brushing Fred’s hair out of her face. “Another bad dream.”

“We have to go see the lady,” Fred replied.

“The lady?” Tory’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Which lady?”

“Eve’s Nan,” Fred explained.

“Eve’s Nan?” Tory looked at her, “you mean Galadriel?”

Fred nodded. “We have to see her.”

“Why?” Tory had long stopped being surprised by anything Fred said to her.  Thanks to Saeran’s connection with the child since birth, Fred had insights that were almost elven in their accuracy.

“He needs my help,” Fred said after a moment, “the Black Riders have found him.”

“Who’s he?” the older woman asked again, deciding that this was a conversation that needed her to be infused with caffeine first.

“The boy,” she insisted. “The other Ringbearer.”

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

There was an absurd moment when Eric Rowan thought he was back where this had all started; taking a long ride on a lift into nowhere.

Of course there was no pert young lady talking about the find of a lifetime as they descended into the depths of an icy cavern, only the steel walls of lift whose shaft seemed endless.  They had been descending a good three minutes now and Eric wondered just how far into the earth they had gone.  Everyone was silent as the time in the lift stretched out and with Miranda’s words still lingering in his ear, Eric knew that for the first time in his life, he wasn’t chasing a story because he was apart of it.

The elves seemed anxious and even though they did not say it out loud, Eric guessed the sense of danger they had felt outside the walls of the Celebdil estate had increased.  Eric shuddered to think what was awaiting them once they reached the end of their journey and hoped that ammunition would be enough to stop it.  He also hoped for Miranda’s sake that her children were unharmed. 

Much of Miranda’s resolve had its foundations in her desire to retrieve them, like any mother would he supposed. He had never seen the maternal instinct up close like this and he had to admit that like all the men present, save Frank, it was rather overwhelming. He wondered if all mothers were like this, built with a genetic desire to sacrifice and to do everything possible to protect their children.

“I wonder how far we’re going?” Jason asked, breaking the silence.

“If this Moria,” Elladan replied, “deep indeed.”

“This Moria,” Miranda looked at him, “you’ve been here before?”

“No,” the elf shook his head, “it was forbidden to us for many years because of the creature the dwarves unleashed in the course of their mining. It slew many and drove the rest away. With the aid of the goblins, they ruled in Moria for a long time until the Fellowship passed through here during the Quest of the Ring.”

“We elves do not much care for seeing the deep places of the world,” Elrohir volunteered and gave the others some idea as to the reason for his anxiety. “Too many things exist in the dark, far older than goblins.  Morgoth ruled Arda for aeons before our people awoke at the Mere of Cuineven. Many still live, sleeping in the shadows waiting for the time to awaken.”

“Okay,” Eric broke in, “let’s keep a little optimism here,” he looked at his companions before falling silent when they suddenly felt the mechanism that controlled their descent groaned dully above them, indicating a change in its operation.  They were going to stop, Eric thought to himself, instinctively raising his gun and questioning himself a second later, when he had started relying on a weapon so much.

There was little time to debate the issue when the lift came to a halt with a slight jarring motion that left them all staggering slightly. Miranda took the lead as always and she did it so naturally that none of the men in their company felt the need to stop her.  Although Elladan and Elrohir had more combat experience than all of them could ever dream to have, the elves seemed content to let Miranda dictate their actions because she had earned their respect as a warrior.

“Whatever happens, we stay together. Everybody keep an eye on each other.  If this place is as big as Elladan and Elrohir say it is, we do not want to get lost.”

“That is for certain,” Elladan remarked, not at all happy to be in the deep like this. He had not lied when he said that elves found it exceedingly uncomfortable to be so far away from the stars.

No one had opportunity to add further because the doors chose than moment to slide open. The five companions in the lift immediately stiffened with the same sense of purpose with weapons drawn and eyes alert and searching.

Dim light cast a faint shadow upon them all when the doors parted finally, revealing a passageway through rock leading away from the lift.  Miranda stepped out first, her gun barrel leading the way as she emerged in the corridor carved from solid rock, taking note of the torches along its walls.  She listened closely and heard no sound, just a long, reaching silence that snaked through the corridor into beyond.  She emerged cautiously, her body poised for attack as she took another step and then another, until the lift doors were behind her and the others were following closely with abated breath. There was only one path away from the lift and as she studied the walls, she realized that time or erosion did not weather this passage.

It had been carved.

“They made this,” Miranda announced.  “This isn’t natural.”

“Saeran’s had God only knows how long to dig this out,” Eric agreed over her shoulder, coming to the same conclusion.

“At least four hundred years,” Elladan pointed out.

“Four hundred years?” Jason looked at him briefly.

“That is only an estimation on when Morgoth may have chosen to resurrect him,” Elrohir said helpfully.

Miranda was not listening because she was too intent on reaching the end of this passage. They were too vulnerable in here and as they moved along in, she somewhat realized that was the point of the whole exercise.  Saeran had built this corridor for a good reason. It was most likely the only way to the surface and easily defendable.  Put a large enough force at the end of this entrance and no one would be coming out.

Behind her, Elladan, son of Elrond, felt his skin tingle in dread. As it was, this underworld was exuding such evil it was often difficult to breathe. He caught a glimpse of his brother and knew that Elrohir felt the same dread. He wondered how Legolas had felt being here during the quest. Did it strike fear into his heart as profoundly as Elladan’s own was pounding in his chest?  Now the evil was not just overwhelming, it was creeping towards him as if it had legs, moving through the dark on a rapid approach. It was rushing up to meet them and as he stared at the darkness further down the passage, he knew that it awaited them there.

“My lady,” Elladan spoke with a hushed voice. “We are not alone.”

Miranda did not falter in her steps even though she sensed the others tensing behind her, “are you sure?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “I can feel its presence.”

“Its?” Eric asked, “as in one or many?”

Elladan paused, searching the feeling that was clawing over his skin like wet slime, “I cannot be certain.”

“Nor can I,” Elrohir added, giving his brother a look of sympathy because he understood all too well what Elladan was referring.

The feeling that the twins had voiced was now becoming something tangible as they pressed deeper into the passage.  They head it first and even without voice it to the others, they knew that what waited for them at the end of the tunnel was many. 

In the words of humankind, it was legion.

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

For the first time since this nightmare had begun, Pip realised he had to do something.

Before this moment, he had been too afraid to do anything.  Fear had caught him in its grip and twisted his insides into a thousands knots. When he had seen the horror of what lurked within the dark shadows of this place, his mind had almost been destroyed by the fright.  It would have been so easy to remain hidden with the corners of his mind, taking comfort in the bliss of unknowing.  However, a sharp scream had shattered the walls of this deceptive safe haven and now Pip found himself being the strong one while his brother faltered.

Sam was lying on the floor; his body bunched up like a baby, whimpering.  When Pip put his hand against his brother’s skin, he felt heat and moisture at once. He remembered how he felt when he was sick and knew without doubt that Sam was suffering from some unspeakable malady caused by the wound that the monster had inflicted upon him. Pip knew without understanding completely, that his brother was dying from more than just a wound.  As Sam struggled and whimpered, despite Pip’s efforts to comfort him, Pip knew that there was more happening to Sam then he could see on the surface.

“Sam,” Pip said shaking his brother, hoping to snap him out of his delirium. “You have to wake up. Mummy and daddy are coming. You have to be awaken when they come, so you can tell me what to do.”

Sam muttered something, his eyes were closed but the fear on his face told Pip most certainly that wherever he was, Sam was beyond hearing him.  Pip straightened up, trying to keep himself from crying because he need to be brave and think of a way out of their situation. It was always up to Sam to do these things but Pip had come to the realization that for once, the duty was his alone.  For the first time since they had been incarcerated in the stone cell, Pip took a closer look at their confinement and made the same discoveries as Sam.  He studied the stone bars that kept them trapped, the Uruk Hai creature that was standing guard at the entrance of the cavern, ensuring those terrible monsters he had seen devour one of their own did not find their way to Sam and him.

It was the bars that held most interest for Pip however, as he crawled slowly towards them. The Uruk looked over his shoulder at the small boy and Pip found himself freezing in terror as the beast regarded him.  For a moment, Pip did not dare to breathe, uncertain of what the beast’s attention on him would be. The Uruk growled in his guttural language, the way a bitch dog would snap at her pups to behave.  Pip shrank back but did not retreat to the shadows. Content with his response, the Uruk faced front again and Pip found himself releasing another breath before he crawled forward once more, this time even more carefully.

He reached the bars and saw that they were stone, carved out of a large slab of rock no doubt. The only thing that was not apart of the whole was the door and he knew there was no way to breach it. However, the bars were stone but polished enough to appear somewhat even in its surface. He kept his eyes fixed on the Uruk as he pressed his head against the bars, having come to the conclusion that Sam had probably realized he was too big to slip through. Fortunately, Pip was smaller than his brother was and slender enough to fit even if it was a tight squeeze. Given time, he could work out of this cage. The problem however, was not in getting out but rather what to do once he was out.  There was no way he could slip past the Uruk Hai at the mouth of the cavern and it was too dark for him to see if there was an alternate way out of it. 

As he was pondering the situation, something unexpected took place.

Another of the beasts appeared and paused before the former. For a few seconds, the cavern was filled with the sounds of their harsh speech, words that Pip did not understand flying back and forth like insults instead of conversation.  The Uruk cast their yellowed eyes at him; their voices filled with an emotion that almost sounded like indecision.  Finally, their guard broke away from his new companion and strode towards the cage.  Pip scrambled back to Sam’s side out of habit even though his brother was in no condition to help him.

“You,” the Uruk glared through the bars at Pip, his teeth bared. “You will stay here. You will not move from this place.”

Pip nodded furiously, too terrified to do much else.

“I am going for a time,” the Uruk barked gruffly. “I will not be gone long and if you choose to escape, I can find you. I know your scent, young meat. If you try to escape, I will find you and then I split open your brother’s belly and make you eat of him, do you understand?”

Pip almost burst into tears from the imagery but nodded in understanding instead.

“Good,” the Uruk straightened up; content that he had put the fear of darkness into the child’s spirit with his warning. “Remember,” he added finally before he turned away, “there is more here than just what you see.  There are things lurking in the dark that will eat you with one swallow and give little thought to you while you disappearing down its gullet. Stay here, you will live longer.”

With that, he turned and walked away, joined by his companions, leaving Sam and Pip alone.

For a long time, Pip lost count of just how long he had stayed in his place, paralyzed by fear of the creature’s warning but as his fear subsided somewhat, he remembered that Sam was hurt very badly. He needed help and he needed it soon. Pip thought of what the creature had warned the threat to kill Sam if he tried to escape and then recalled what his brother had said about their captors needing them alive.  They wanted dad to do something, something very important and they needed Sam and he alive to make daddy do it for them.

No, they couldn’t be harmed, yet, not until daddy did what he had to.

With this logic in place, Pip took a deep breath, calmed his racing heart and approached the bars again.  He pressed his head to the gap and fell the strain of unmovable rock as he forced his way through. Twisting his body sideways, he pushed as hard as he could, feeling pain coursing through his skull as his head struggled through the barrier.  He could feel the stone scraping his skin, the flesh being eroded away until there was the slick moisture of blood.  He grunted in pain, biting down so hard he could taste blood in his mouth and just when he thought he could stand it no more, he felt something give way and suddenly, he was through.

His head throbbed terribly and he could feel blood but he had slipped his head through and once that obstacle had been breached, it became a simple matter of twisting his body around to pass through the rest of the way.  When Pip was finished in this little maneuver, he found himself staring through the bars at Sam.  His brother had not noticed his departure, the delirium had robbed Sam too much of his faculties for that.  Pip wished he could reach Sam and hold his hand but for him to do that, he would have to enter the cage again and his head was too tender to make the attempt again so soon.

“I’m going to get help Sam,” Pip said softly. “I promise I’m going to come back as soon as I find mummy and daddy. Once they come back with me, they’ll know how to help you.  Mummy will make it better,” he replied with growing resolve, “you’ll see.”

Sam did not register his vow and Pip could only stand there briefly, praying that his brother would still be alive when he returned.  However, the moment to linger was brief because he had to get moving.

Somehow, he had to get help.

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

When the Nazgul had killed the woman in front of him, Frank came to the dreadful realization that these creatures were too much for him.

It was quite a sobering experience comprehending one’s own weakness in the face of overwhelming darkness and considering that he was still wearing much of Irina Sadko’s brain matter on his clothes, he supposed he was handling rather well.  He had not anticipated the cold ruthlessness of the Nazgul, not even when they had killed Hans.  He had not thought them capable of such malevolence but now he knew better and despaired because it drove home deeply, how real the possibility had become that he would never see Miranda and the children again.

The thought of them was the only thing that kept his sanity in place, knowing that while he was in the clutches of the Nazgul; his wife would have some chance of retrieving their children.  Sometimes, the best thing a father could do for his family was to simply die and he had a sense that this was that moment for him.  He had been so stunned by the woman’s death that he had allowed them to drag him into the house, certain that he was bound for torture and some other grisly fate in their efforts to regain control of the artifact.

Stop thinking like an archaeologist Frank, he rebuked himself silently, it’s not an artifact, it’s the Silmarils.

However, they did not plan on torturing him yet and when his senses started to pay attention to where they were taking him, he took stock of the destruction to the building. A side of the building was billowing in flames, a gaping whole in the fine architecture of the mansion. Mortar and brick were crumbling amidst the flames and Frank found himself savoring some satisfaction in knowing that Miranda had caused all this destruction.

“Where are you taking me?” He demanded as they took him down a long corridor. The walls of the passage was charred black and riddled with bullet holes. Some parts of the wall had actually buckled in with heat and the paint had burned into the stone.  He saw bodies strewn about, some torn apart by bullets, while others had found their end by the way of arrows.   It was clear that Miranda and the others had been through this passage recently.

“You wish to see your sons,” the Nazgul hissed. “I am taking you to them.”

This should have pleased Frank but somehow, it did not.

“Why?” Frank asked.

“Be grateful that you will see them,” Morgul responded snidely, relishing the smile the human could not see. 

It had given Morgul considerable pleasure to devise his method of vengeance, so much sweeter than actually killing the whelp. He delighted in the simplicity of it and knew that even if this human did give up the Simaril, his child would never be the same again. And it had given Morgul great pleasure to turn one of the hated ringbearers into a wraith. After all, it was because of that accursed hobbit that the Master had been destroyed and banished to the void and they were similarly doomed to endure the shadow world like mists without form or power.  This way, he would have his vengeance not only against the enemy of his master but ensure that the shield bitch would find suffer as intolerably as he when he was sent to his death by her blade.

Oh yes, it would a sweet revenge indeed.

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

Sam was in a very odd place.

He had been running across a place with sharp stones under his feet and hard rocks in his way, trying to escape the darkness that chasing him like all the hounds of hell unleashed.  He ran until he could not breathe, until his heart was pounding so hard in his chest that it felt like it was going to explode. He knew they were back there those things, those black riders. However, Sam knew that this was no dream he would wake up from and this time, they would him down until he was caught or died with exhaustion. 

He could feel the rocks cutting his feet, could feel the moisture of sweat against his brown and he was panting as if like a ton of bricks was pressing down on his chest, refusing to let his breath escape. He looked over his shoulder and he could hear them, thundering hooves, black robes flowing against the twilight evening. He did not know how long he could keep running, how long before this burning pain in his shoulder would finally be the end of him. He ran as fast as he could and still, they were following. He would die in this dream without ever waking up.

Then suddenly, without warning, he had run into a place that was not at all sharp rocks and darkness. It was a nice place, a home, warm and comfortable. The windows were round and there were books piled in corners. He could feel heat coming from a warm fireplace, a kettle poised on ancient looking stove with wisp of steam escaping the spout. It looked familiar but he could not remember how it was familiar, only that he been here before somewhere.

“Hello Sam,” a voice said behind him.

Sam turned around and saw what he thought was another child because the person was small like him. However as he looked closer, he knew that this stranger with locks of dark hair and powerful blue eyes was no child but rather a man, an adult.

“You have questions Sam,” the stranger smiled, “I wish I could answer them all but we don’t have a great deal of time I’m afraid.”

“Who are you?” Sam asked his voice soft and ragged from running.

“I am you best friend,” the stranger smiled back, “and you are my Sam. It’s taken a great deal for me to get here Sam, to find you in all this darkness. It wasn’t for Galadriel, I would never be able to manage it at all.  When we see each other again, we won’t know one another like we do now but that’s all right, that’s how its supposed to be.  I knew you were in trouble Sam and I had to find you, I had to tell you must FIGHT. You cannot give into them.”

“Them?” Sam replied blankly and just a he did, a shadow seemed to fall over the warmth of the room. Amber light dissipated in place of indigo evening.

The stranger looked around, concern looming over his face before he regarded Sam again. “The End of Days is almost here Sam and I will need you for what is coming. I know you’re tired and I know you want to rest but you have to keep running. Help is coming, I can feel it even if you can’t. You were always stronger than I, stronger than anyone possibly believed you could be so you must stay ahead of them.”

“You’re the other,” Sam exclaimed in a moment of revelation. The other at whose side was his place in the world. This was the missing part of himself he had been searching, the bond that was more than friendship or love, it was more than human emotion, and it was timeless like the filaments that made the universe a living whole.   “Next to you is where I’m supposed to be.”

“Yes,” the stranger smiled, “we know each other Sam, in this life and the one before.  We have lots to talk about but not now, a whole lifetime is waiting for us but you must keep ahead of them.  I know it’s hard, I know how much pain you’re in but you must fight to stay alive.  Our time is growing short, this place is going to disappear soon but know that I’m with you, know that I believe in you just as you always ensured that I could go on because you believed in me. We will survive this. Do you understand? We will survive this together.”

“Yes,” Sam nodded and it was true, he could feel the other’s strength reinforcing his own, filling his wounded spirit with hope and determination.  It was the stuff that could move mountains.

“We changed the world together Sam,” the other said placing a hand on his shoulder. “You may not remember but we did.  What you and I accomplished together is the stuff of legends so you must believe me when I say to you that no matter how terrible they are, you are stronger.”

Sam nodded as the windows began to shake and the light in the fireplace diminished. A great rushing sound ripped apart the walls in an instant and took with the house and all the warmth within it.  Sam blinked and saw the other was gone, leaving him alone in the barren wasteland once again.  The sound of thundering hooves broke through the wail of the wind and Sam drew in a deep breath and knew what he had to do. 

He had to run and he had to keep running until help came. 

He was strong enough. He wouldn’t give up.

***********

There were moments when one’s first impulse was usually the right course of action in an unexpected situation. It required no thinking, no question or doubt, just action.

When Miranda caught her first glimpse of Uruk Hai, she knew that this was one of those moments.

There were so many of them she could hardly take count but her first impulse was to pull the trigger and drive them back.  She could not tell by the dim light of the enormous room they had entered whether or not the Uruks were armed but Miranda was certain they were.  There was a brief pause as both parties recognize each other and the battle line that had suddenly been drawn between them. It was little more than a second in real time but the rapid-fire explosion of bullets escaping Miranda’s gun signaled its end.

“Get back!” She shouted as her bullets caused the enemy to scatter behind the great pillars the size of redwood trees within the room. 

They shrank back into the corridor as the returning gunfire smashed into the wall where they had been standing.  Fragments of stone and mortar went flying about in all directions, creating a mist of debris that followed them back down the passage.

“We’re hemmed in,” Jason cursed as they were forced to retreat.

“Like hell we are!” Miranda snapped and pulled out the handgun tucked in her jeans.  “When I give the signal, the both of you run! I think I saw an entry way towards the far left.  Get in there and cover us.”

“What are you going to do!” Jason demanded over the sound of gunfire.

“We’re not waiting for them to come get us,” she said gruffly. “We’re getting through. Elladan, Elrohir, come with me.”

The two elven brothers followed Miranda without question as she strode up the hallway again.

“What do you intend?” Elrohir asked first.

“I want you to use those explosive tipped arrows of yours,” she said as the others followed her, her voice growing louder as they returned to the end of the corridor where the bullets were still exploding. “I saw columns, many of them. Those things are hiding behind them.  Shoot at them.”

“Shoot them!” He exclaimed. “Are you mad?”

“Don’t worry,” Miranda retorted. “I saw the size of those columns, you don’t have the fire power to bring them down but those Uruks don’t know that and they might withdraw to keep us from trying. Its only to give us enough time to get past them.”

The elf looked at her dubiously but supposed that she knew the explosive capability of these arrowheads better than he did. Also, Miranda had led them this far and their skins were attached to their bodies so he trusted that she knew what she was doing. 

“I will aim first,” Elladan looked at his brother. “We will do it in succession.”

Elrohir nodded in agreement. “I wait for you.”

Miranda looked over her shoulder at Jason and Eric as the elves were deciding their strategy. “As soon as we start shooting, you two make for that entrance! We’ll need you to cover us when we make the attempt.”

“You can count on us,” Jason declared firmly.

“We’ll watch your back,” Eric added his voice to the mix.

The gunfire was digging into the stone surface, spraying sharp fragments and dust through the air as they inched closer to the edge.  Miranda took the lead, handgun and assault rifle in each hand. She could hear nothing but loud explosion of gunfire ripping up the air and knew that she had to wait until the right moment to act.  Bullets were not an infinite resource and she knew that with the amount of ammunition the enemy was discharging, it would only be a matter of time before they had the break they needed.

“Hold until I say,” Miranda warned. Elladan and Elrohir may have been immortal but they had little experience with gunplay and Eric was a complete novice.  Thank goodness for Jason, she thought to herself when suddenly she heard a slight pause and knew that it was time to act.

“GO!” She ordered just before she started shooting with both guns blazing. Creating a wall of bullets that somewhat protected Jason and Eric as they bolted into the fray, the two men hurried through the open space.  Elladan and Elrohir were already releasing their bowstrings, sending their explosive tipped arrows in the great pillars behind which many of the Uruks were taking cover. She still couldn’t get an accurate number of how many there were but the bullets she was firing ferociously ensured that Jason and Eric could make their way across the floor relatively unharmed. Thanks to the efficiency of the weapon in her hand, those 750 rounds per minute proving to extremely useful in keeping the enemy at bay momentarily.

However, they were nowhere as useful as the customized arrowheads that Elladan and Elrohir were using.

Apparently they had expertise with these kinds of weapons before and wielded them presently with deadly accuracy. The arrowheads struck their target as intended and the ensuing explosion rocked the great hall.  Stone heaved loudly as the Uruks standing near the point of detonation were throw in all directions, their bodies flung aside like rag dolls in the hands of an unruly child. Smashing hard against the floor, they heard dull cries of pain became lost in the ear splitting roar of explosions and gunfire. The confusion of explosives and bullets had turned the hallway into an orchestra of confusion and to this music they saw Jason and Eric reach the other end of the floor and were now in a position to see to the crossing of their comrades.

“Elladan!” Miranda shouted at him when she retreated behind the wall, “on my signal go.  Elrohir and I will cover your back. As soon as you get to the others, repeat what you’re doing here. That will give your brother the room he needs to get to you.”

Her planning was sound and logical. What a warrior this woman would have made in the day, Elladan thought before he sniggered to himself in a private joke. But she had been a warrior in her day, he corrected himself, a shield maiden no less. “I will await your word.”

Miranda nodded slightly before she stepped out again and resumed her barrage with Elrohir continuing his assault with more efficiency because his brother’s life depended on it.

“NOW!” Miranda ordered.

Elladan raced forward, keeping his head low as he felt the bullets whizzing past him. Their sound was a great assault upon his heightened hearing but somehow he endured it.  Clutching his bow, he crossed the floor and saw that Jason and Jason had also adding their firepower to the battle, reinforcing the formidable defensive perimeter that Miranda and his brother had created to ensure his safe passage. He ran past the great pillars, knowing that this was the great hall of Balin’s city, abandoned by Durin’s folk since the Third Age.

He skidded next to a stop behind the corner that Jason and Eric were using for shelter, out of breath but infinitely grateful to have escaped the line of fire.

“You okay?” Eric asked, pausing in his barrage as he looked to Elladan’s well being.

“I am well,” Elladan replied. “I must say I do not like these guns very much. Their projectiles move much to fast for my liking. Where is the skill to evade them?””

“Non-existent unless you’re Superman.” Eric grinned.

“Superman?” the elf stared at him.

“Never mind,” Eric shrugged and turned away to return to the business at hand.  “We have to help your brother and Miranda across.”

Elladan agreed and stood with Jason and Eric as they renewed their assault upon the enemy and prompted Elrohir into taking the perilous journey. Covering his brother’s journey as he had done, Elladan continued the barrage with the deadly cache of arrows, making certain that each one countered. The hall began to fill with dust from shattered rock, not quite enough to dislodge the pillars but enough to ensure that any Uruk standing in close proximity would know a swift death. Elrohir reached them soon enough and finally it was only Miranda who waited to make the crossing. The five men who had fought at her side, who followed her lead, mounted a united assault of gunfire and explosive, creating such a roar of noise and confusion, that Miranda had little difficulty reaching them over the blaze of gunfire.

“Come on!” Jason prompted once they were all together again, running down the room that apparently led to other caverns and halls in the labyrinthine place.

As Miranda followed the young New Zealander, she wondered how it would be possible to find two small children in such a large place.

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

Pip heard the noise that was shuddering through the cavern and knew that something was happening. Frightened beyond all belief as he hurried away from the cavern where he and Sam were being held, Pip wondered if he was not being foolish, straying from the path that was known to the great darkness that was this place. He was too little to be able to defend himself. He was five! He always told Sam that he was big enough to do the things his brother could but until this moment, did not realize how truly insignificant he was. He thought of mum and dad who were probably searching for them and felt a deep pining for both that would have broken him into a thousand pieces if it were not for the overriding desire to find help for Sam.

He ran as fast as he could, putting as much distance away from himself and the cavern where he had left his brother. In his mind, a step further away was a step closer to freedom and his parents. It was dreadfully simple logic that only a child could manage in such horrendous circumstances. The caverns that he moved through were a curious mixture of manmade hallways and natural tunnels. He wondered who would have built these because it seemed very old. His father could discern what these were, Pip thought proudly. Daddy knew these things because daddy was very smart. He clung to the memory of his father, steel rimmed glasses perched upon his nose as he worked meticulously to study some artifact that he found. Pip loved watching Frank, watching the sparkle in his father's eyes when an answer came to him and his dad's efforts to explain that discovery even if much of his words were lost on Pip. That he tried to explain made Pip love him all the more.

Pip did not know how far he had gone before his straining lungs finally forced him to rest. The intermittent mix of walls and tunnels had blurred and he realized too late, the light in these passages was becoming infrequent the further away he strayed from the cell he had escaped. Only a faint glimmer of illumination reached his present location from a torch left behind some time ago. He had been breathing to hard earlier to notice a rancid odor that had crept up his nose that had all been unnoticed until he had paused. Pip was too young to know how much fear could mask when one was terrified.

He pause and took stock of his surroundings, the replenishment of oxygen in his lungs had brought clarity to his mind, clarity he wished he did not have. The smell was bad, very bad, like garbage after many days. He had stepped into a cavern and unlike the others, knew this one was not man made. This one was very old because the air he breathed reminded him of the places his father had unearthed, stale and barely breathable. He sucked in a deep breath and started to retreat, feeling even more anxious at the eerie glow of indigo that bathed the cavern. He looked around, trying to source out the reason for that awful smell and then decided he did not want to know. Recently, he had learnt that monsters were very real things and the darkness was where they thrived.

Where he was right now was very dark indeed.

Suddenly, he heard something. It made him freeze in his tracks. It dawned on him like slime crawling up his spine, cold and startling. He was not alone.

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

It was rather surprised.

Under normal circumstances, it would have to hunt for its food. Its customary prey was wise enough not to stray these paths for they knew it had marked this place for its own. There was plenty food beyond it domain but hunting was required. It relished the chase for the prey was weak and chose safety in numbers, however even that was not enough to stop it from snatching a meal when it was time to feed. Sometimes they fought back with weapons but usually what harm that came to it was minimal and the kill had the tendency to send the others fleeing.

This new prey that had wandered into its realm was very strange. The meat smelt fresh. It could taste the tenderness even from its hiding place. The prey was also very small and could possibly be a youngling. It had tasted a few younglings in its time but none had the exquisite texture of scent as the one before it now. Its mouth watered in anticipation of the kill by the sheer deliciousness of the aroma exuding from its terrified flesh.

It saw the prey sensed him. The fear that had been heavy enough in the air for it to detect from far away had now become a musk-saturated stench. The prey was aware of its presence and was retreating. It watched with amusement as the youngling turned on its heels and fled.

It bared its teeth and smiled in pleasure. It did so love the hunt.

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

When the lift opened after the long journey, Frank had a genuine curiosity as to how far they had traveled. Trapped in the confines of the small space with the Nazgul was hardly a pleasant experience, however it felt even worse when it appeared to take forever to reach their destination. The Nazgul were growing increasingly uncomfortable as they made their descent into god only knew what depths and Frank wished he knew the reason for their agitation. He wondered if their mood could be attributed to the nine kinds of havoc his wife was undoubtedly wreaking in the search for their children. Knowing Miranda, subtlety would not be a strong point in such a venture.

When the doors parted and Frank was shoved outside, he was treated to what could only be called an archaeologist's dream and nightmare all rolled into one. He saw what could be considered the greatest archeological find of all time. The ceiling of the room was so high that Frank could not see the top but he knew it was there because the mighty columns that stretched from the floor and disappeared into the darkness above was proof enough of it. He saw the pillars, large as redwoods, standing before him like a great forest in a room whose sheer size was enough to take the breath away. If it were not for the urgency of his present situation, Frank would be exploring this place in an instant, trying to learn as much about the people who had built this monument to their civilization.

It was also a nightmare because the pillars standing immediately beyond the passage that had led from the lifts was riddle with bullet holes and what looked like damage from explosives. Chunks of stone littered the floor along with bodies. His heart sank at the destruction to the site but had little time to grieve this defacement because he was soon confronted with more evidence that Elladan and Elrohir's tales of Middle earth was true origins of the world he knew.

Upon seeing their arrival, a number of creatures strode up to Frank and the Nazgul. He stared at these beings, fascinated and frightened at the same time because they were definitely not human even though they took on human characteristics in many ways. Obviously, these were the Uruk Hai that Elladan had told them about, the creatures that David Saeran had grown in secret to be his army during his failed attempt to establish a new world order. The archaeologist in him was tempted to enquire if the Uruks had any skeletal fragments he could look at for a comparative study.

"My Lord," the Uruk bowed his head as he addressed Morgul. "Intruders have invaded this place."

"Where are they now?" The Nazgul lord demanded. His voice was almost glacial.

The Uruk shuddered at the sound of it and answered quickly. "They have escaped down the eastern hall."

"Which means they could be anywhere!" Morgul hissed and grabbed the Uruk by his throat.

Frank watched in horror as the Nazgul tightened a black gloved hand around the Uruk and squeezed in a vise like grip. The hapless creature struggled in a litany of gurgling sounds, his hands desperately clawing at Morgul's arm but to no avail. Frank turned away when the Uruk's efforts to fight subsided with his larynx crushed and his legs gave way beneath him. The sounds of the Uruk's gasp still invaded Frank's consciousness when he heard the creature's struggle finally giving way to death. Turning back to the grisly scene, Frank saw the Uruk was dangling limply in Morgul's grip. The Nazgul relinquished his hold only then and allowed the body to tumble to the floor.

The other Uruks did not look at their fallen comrade but Frank could tell by their body language that they were not unaffected by it. However, the Nazgul were their masters and this harsh punishment for failure appeared to be something they were accustomed to. He wondered if these creatures had any cultural identity of their own or was serving the Nazgul and their dark lord all there was to their existence?

"Find the invaders," Morgul ordered, the murderous edge to his voice even more pervading.

The Uruks nodded in blind obedience and departed to do that. Frank had some measure of satisfaction knowing that Miranda was still alive and at the moment, beyond the reach of the enemy. After their audience with the Uruks, the Nazgul left the enormous cavern, resuming their course of supposedly reuniting him with his children. Frank was more than dubious about this claim, certain that the Nazgul were not prone to generosity unless it suited them. This was their way of reminding him what was at stake, to convince him that producing the Simaril would be the only way to save his children. Frank was not foolish enough to think for one moment the Nazgul would have honored their word, even if he had been willing to make the exchange.

They lead him through a maze of passages, saying nothing as they made the journey. Although he was generally afraid, something else had started to concern him, something he could not put his finger on. It tugged at the edge of his consciousness, fraying his nerves with silent foreboding. As it was, the thought that his sons had been incarcerated in such a dismal and desolate place, so far beneath the earth, with Uruk Hai as their jailors had filled him with a deep sense of outrage and there was no telling what effect this would have on their state of mind. He thought of Sam and Pip in this darkness and felt such a fierce desire to hurt the Nazgul that he could scarcely contain it.

They arrived at a cavern after long last and Frank was ushered in first, his passage through the entrance facilitated by sharp push forward. He stumbled slightly in the dim light and saw what looked like a small cage in the center of the cave. It appeared carved from rock and the only artificial thing about the construct was the metal door that sealed its contents within. His heart began to pound as he took a step forward, squinting hard at the same time so he could make out what was contained within. He could smell the acrid smell of human waste and felt his stomach hollow in disgust.

"Open it!" Frank shouted.

"We are not obliged to do anything," Morgul replied icily.

"You want the artifact?" he glared at the Nazgul. "Then open the fucking door!"

Morgul nodded at one of his brothers who immediately stepped forward and complied with the request. No sooner than the door had opened, Frank had raced forward, skidding to a halt at the entrance.

"Sam! Pip!" He called out frantically.

Sam was lying on the floor of his terrible cage. His tiny body scrunched up in a fashion Frank had not seen since he was very little. The boy was shivering and had not enough presence of mind to recognize his father was near.

"Sam!" Frank bundled his son in his arms and felt himself reduced to panic when he saw how hot the child was. There was moisture on his face. Bloody hell! He was burning up! It was when Frank was trying to understand how his son had come to this did he seen the bloodied stains on the floor that led him to the knife wound in Sam's shoulder.

"You bastard!" Frank swore furiously. "What have you done to him? Where's Pip?"

"The other one is gone," the Nazgul revealed to his brothers.

"The incompetence of the Uruk Hai is beyond description," Morgul shook his head in disgust. "No matter," he shrugged. "I doubt he'd survive out in the open for very long."

Frank refused to believe that because Miranda was out there somewhere and he had to believe that if Pip was wandering this place, she would find him. She had to. He turned back to Sam, holding the child in his arms the way he had done the first hour of Sam's life.

"Sam," Frank said trying to keep his voice from shattering. "Sam, its dad, I'm here Sam. I'm here." He clutched Sam's hand, hoping that wherever his son was, he could feel Frank's presence.

Sam stirred at the sound of his name. His eyes fluttered and he stared at Frank with glassy eyes. Frank tried to conceal the shock at seeing the color of his hazel irises turning to white. "Daddy," he whispered in a small voice, "it hurts."

"I know Sam," Frank swallowed, clutching the boy's hand tighter. All the reason, all the intelligence and courage in the world felt meaningless in the face of a parent confronting their worst fear, harm to their children. At that moment, seeing his son in this condition, Frank knew he would give the Nazgul whatever they wanted if it meant he could save his boy. "I'll make it better Sam, I promise you, I'll make it better."

"Now," Morgul stepped forward, pleased that the professor was exactly where he needed to be, "let us discuss the whereabouts of the Simaril."

Part Fifteen
The Light of the Trees

The vastness of Moria swallowed them as a great fish might do to bait, enveloping them in darkness where things lurked in silence, waiting for the perfect moment of weakness to strike.

This, Elladan felt more strongly than he felt the heart beating within his breast. Despite the company escaping the reach of the Uruk Hai for the moment, Elladan knew that the threat he had sensed from above was not simply the presence of the enemy’s warriors but something that had been lingering here for many ages. Possibly even from as far back as the time of the elves departure from the world of men.

Durin’s folk had abandoned Moria in the Fourth Age and their disappearance in Arda was a mystery that Elladan intended to discuss once they had returned to Valinor. That is if they were able to escape Moria with their lives. The world of men did not know Durin’s folk except as figments of tales told to children. They did not know of the magnificent craftsman who had built the great hall through which they had passed earlier. Seeing the realm of Dwarrowdelf abandoned saddened the elf somewhat and he wondered where the dwarfs had gone in the face of the increasingly alien world developing around them. No doubt their cities were so deep beneath the earth that no one, not even man with his remarkable machines could find them. He thought of Gimli and how Legolas Greenleaf had wept the day the dwarf passed and knew that for the dwarfs, there would be no resurrection until after the earth was built anew. It was a shame really because he sensed the dwarfs would have greatly enjoyed man’s advancements in the present age.

It was a question for another time he decided, because at the moment Elladan was certain that while the dwarfs had abandoned Dwarrodelf, it was not empty. He had suspicions about what had taken up residence here since the departure of the dwarfs and with all the commotion they had caused in escaping the Uruks, Elladan had no doubt that Moria’s present tenants were perfectly aware of their existence and on the move. He looked at Elrohir and saw the same concern in his brother’s face. Being twins, they knew each other well enough to dispense with the need to communicate using words. Sharing the same blood and the same womb had bonded their souls in a way that allowed them to discern each other’s thoughts by simple instinct.

Elrohir knew as well as he what was coming and feared that their time was growing short.

Unfortunately, the dim light within the intermittent passages of stone and natural terrain made it exceedingly difficult to track the children. They had been running for quite some time, lengthening the distance between themselves and the Uruks without encountering either. He had no doubt that the Uruks were fanning out or waiting for orders from their Nazgul masters whose presence Elladan could also sense. All their enemies were rallied together in one place, making these tunnels they were moving through a labyrinth of death.

"This place is too bloody big," Eric complained as they paused at a crossroad of tunnels and corridors. He was leaning against a wall, taking deep breaths after running all that way from the lift. "We’re never going to find these kids at this rate, not with everyone of those things hunting us."

"We have to try," Miranda said firmly, pacing the ground like a caged animal, needing to react even if there was nothing to react to. She too was beginning to see futility in their search even if she was incapable of admitting it. Driven by instincts older than civilisation, she was compelled by a mother’s instincts and would continue to search while there was breath left in body to do it.

"The Nazgul are here," Elrohir informed the humans needing them to understand just how urgent the situation was. "We sense their presence."

"The Nazgul?" Miranda stared at him, "do you know where?"

"Close," he answered, "but do we really wish to face them?"

"Yes," Miranda nodded, "because they may be where the kids are." She did not add that it was very possible that Frank was here too. After all, both Frank and Miranda had known that he could not delay them indefinitely and it was unlikely that they would relinquish their hold on him once he was in their clutches, whether or not he did have the Silmaril.

"We’re going to die sometime," Jason replied, agreeing with Miranda’s assertion although he was starting to believe that none of them would ever see daylight again. However, if he were to die, he would prefer it facing the enemy instead of roaming these dark and sinister catacombs waiting to be taken by something lurking in the shadows. "Better this way than any other," he added.

"I admire your ability to make such a measured choice," Eric gave him a look but then faced the others, "she’s right. We’re not going to get to them playing safe. Let’s go to root of the problem."

Elladan and Elrohir traded glances, conveying to each other their gratitude and admiration for their companions. There was nothing the brothers loved more than a good battle, even if it did appear to be hopeless. After living for so long, death was the one experience they had yet to share and did not fear it.

"Then we best hurry," Elrohir remarked with a grin. "Today is a good day to die."

"Very Klingon," Eric retorted rolling his eyes.

***********.

The prey was faltering.

It could sense its exhaustion, could see it by the erratic tracks left in its wake. It had been maintaining the pursuit for a good distance now and the prey’s ability to keep ahead was not only adept but also challenging. Blind panic fuelled the prey’s desire to push on, urging it to continue even though its strength was wanning. It could smell the salt of the youngling’s fear, an aromatic bouquet that filtered through its senses and brought alive all the hungered impulses in its body. It drew its teeth back savouring the pleasure of it, its tongue quivering with anticipation of the fresh kill.

It could hear the heavy pants of the prey’s breath, could hear the whimpers of terror as the youngling ran, trying to stay ahead of its teeth, of its sharp claws that would tear and rend. It would be a slow kill, it had decided. A meal as fine as this should not be squandered, it had to be savoured and relished. To simply devour would mean losing it to memory and it may be quite some time, if ever, that it had a chance to feed like this again. It heard an abrupt sound and uttered a growl of satisfaction, knowing it had come from the youngling who had stumbled during the chase. The prey’s exhaustion was almost complete.

It would not be long now.

***********

If Pip had been able to manage a thought, that thought would have surely been to acknowledge that was going to die.

He had not even dared to look over his shoulder to see what it was that was chasing him. All he knew was that it was big, ferocious and not about to let him escape. Pip ran at breakneck speed, pouring all the energy that was capable of being wrung from a five-year-old terrified out of his mind. He felt as if he could not breathe as if the oxygen entering his lungs was disappearing up the instant it entered his nose. He knew he could not maintain this pace for long. Even now, his limbs were screaming for respite. However stopping would mean nothing less than his death. He knew it as certainly as he knew that was what chasing him was terrible and monstrous.

Scrambling frantically through the passages, Pip paid little attention to where he was going, only that he was running for his life. A rock in his path sent him tumbling into the dirt, scraping his elbows and his chin against the hard surface. He heard the soft padding footsteps of the beast behind him and had no time to whimper or cry out in pain before he was up on his feet, running again. He could feel blood on his cut chin and his elbows burned with pain but Pip forced himself to ignore it. He knew he could not keep this up. Each breath was becoming more strained. He wanted to cry at his helplessness but Pip dared not waste his strength on that.

Forging on ahead, he caught sight of something. A fissure in the rock. It was not very big, barely a wedge really but suddenly, it became his only chance for survival. Pip headed towards it as he heard the growls behind him intensify as if the beast knew what he was intending and felt it necessary to issue warning to stay away from the grotto. The creature’s insistence of it inspired Pip to pour all his remaining energy into reaching the opening. He heard the steps of the beast quicken as it attempted to reach him before he made the entry. Pip saw the mouth of the grotto beckoning him with invitation as he closed the distance and taxed the last of his reserves in a singular burst of speed.

He reached it as he heard the footsteps behind him pause followed by a powerful roar that made the cavern quake. He was oblivious to everything as except the ope mouth of the grotto that rushed to greet him with its swallowing darkness. The entrance was narrow and Pip had to slip in sideways or else he would not have been able to enter it at all. The grotto was little more than a wedge in the wall and Pip pushed himself as far towards the back as he could. There was a moment of silence when he turned around and faced the opening, praying that it was too small for the monster to follow.

A shadow fell over the entrance, preceding the swipe of a powerful foreleg attached to an even more lethal set of claws. Razor sharp, they slashed Pip across the thigh and drew a high-pitched scream of pain as blood washed over his torn flesh. The beast uttered another furious growl at the scent of his blood and attempted to force its massive head through the wedge unsuccessfully before it was forced to withdraw in frustration. Pip shrunk deeper into the grotto, until his back was digging into the rock, biting down on his lip to control the stinging pain of his leg and his urge to cry. The creature continued to take swipes, slashing the inside of the grotto with its sharp claws in a desperate to reach him. Pip controlled himself as long as he could but in the end, fear and anger own out and he shouted at it to go away, praying that the beast would tire of this stalemate and leave.

Unfortunately, it didn’t.

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

"Did you hear?" Elladan looked at his brother, pausing in midstep.

"Yes," Elrohir nodded halting their progress through the tunnel that would take them to the Nazgul.

"What is it?" Miranda asked, her hands tightening cautiously around her gun.

Elladan did not answer; instead he turned up another path, one that seemed to lead away from the lighted tunnels of this underground city. His brother fell into step as they ignored the smell of dank air and the fetid stench of things fel and terrible. Thanks to their elven hearing, he and Elrohir could hear the cries of desperation far sooner than the humans in their company. It was just as well, he thought as his hasty steps broke into a run upon identifying the source of those cries. If Miranda knew what he suspected; they would be delayed unnecessarily by questions they had no time to answer.

"It comes from this way," Elrohir gestured towards another crossroads, using the intensifying sounds as a guide.

"What is it?" Miranda demanded. "What are you hearing?"

"There is no time!" Elladan snapped and continued running. He increased his speed and raced down the tunnel, grateful that his superior eyesight allowed him to see in the fading light. The screams were interlaced by something else now, the growls of an animal that was surely as powerful as its savage snarls seemed to indicate. They had very little time to act and saw Elrohir was already loading his bow.

Miranda was to make another demand when suddenly the sounds that had set the elves upon their course reached her ears and brushed away instantly and further questions in her mind. Her heart froze in her chest and suddenly a burst of power surged through her that rivalled that capable by any elf. Lowering her gun, she ran faster than she had ever run in her entire life, knowing that every second counted. The elves were ahead and she felt some measure of comfort knowing that they had the stamina to reach their destination first.

The roar that filled their ears when they reached the source of the commotion came from a beast almost the size of a large bear. However, it had not the sluggish movements of that creature. Its pelt was dark silver; almost black that heaved like the ripples on water upon their arrival. It turned its massive head towards them and glared with eyes that looked like the twin orbs of a yellow moon. It drew back its jaws and revealed powerful fangs, glistening with saliva, enraged that its meal had been intruded upon. It bellowed at the new arrivals in a powerful roar of fury that revibrated through the stone. It retreated from the narrow fissure in the rock and took a running leap at Elrohir, more than ready to rip out his throat.

However, the elf was more than ready for the beast.

Releasing his bowstring, an arrow slammed into the creature’s body, causing it to lose control of its pounce. It fell away and rolled across the ground, deterred in its course but not about to give up either. It snarled at them in its pain and prepared to launch itself again when Jason opened fire, emptying a barrage of shells into his massive body. The creature, caught in the shower of lead, could do little but jerk about spasmodically as it howled in pain. Blood splattered outward from ripped flesh, fur and meat wetting the ground as the sound of gunfire eclipsed its angry screams of dying. Jason did not know how long his finger remained on the trigger but he did not depress it until the creature landed heavily on its side and moved no more.

"What the hell is that?" Eric managed to ask when the sound of gunfire had died away.

"It is a warg," Elladan remarked staring at the dead beast.

"A warg?" Jason looked at the elf for a more detailed explanation.

"It is one of Sauron’s creatures," Elrohir offered, "they were allies with the dark ones. Orcs used to use them as beasts of burden, the way we ride horses."

Miranda paid little attention to their discussion because she could care less about the creature, only what it had intended as its prey. She dropped her gun on the ground at her feet and continued towards the grotto where she could hear sounds of sobbing and fear. Her heart was pounding inside of her because she recognised those tears all too well. How many times had she heard it when consoling a skimmed knee or some childhood mishap that only a mother’s touch could soothe? Those tears had more power over her than any rapist in Belfast. It broke her heart every time she heard it. Reaching the entrance, she peered through the opening and saw huddled in a corner, to her indescribable joy, her son.

"Pip," she called softly, "its mummy."

There was a blur of movement after his eyes turned at the sound of the voice where he tore himself out of the corner and fairly flung himself out of the grotto in order to reach her.

"MUM!" Pip cried out joyously as he wrapped his arms around her mother and felt even happier when she embrace him in turn.

Miranda did not think that there was any feeling that could describe how she felt the instant she held her youngest child in her arms again. All she wanted to do was to remain in this place, so she could hold him forever. When she had recognised those cries as his, Miranda thought she would die from the despair of it. Now that he was returned to her, she could not recall being so grateful for anything in her entire life. Miranda did not realise she was crying as she held him but eve if she had noticed, she would hardly care. Her child was safe and that was all that mattered.

"Don’t cry mum," Pip said pulling away from her. "Don’t be sad."

Miranda laughed softly as she saw him concerned and kissed his forehead, "I’m not sad," she said smiling. "I’m so happy to see you."

The remark caused another hug between mother and child and those who bore witness to it could not deny that they too were experiencing emotions of happiness at seeing this reunion come to pass.

"Mummy, you found us!" Pip said with wonder and awe when they parted. "Sam said you would!"

Her joy had been such that for a brief second, Miranda had forgotten about Sam. That fact and the realisation that Pip’s leg was smeared in blood mortified her. "Are you all right?" Miranda struggled to speak, her eyes brimming with tears as she examined him and saw the wound on his leg. "You’re hurt!"

"The monster," Pip volunteered, his small face wrinkling in pain. "He scratched me."

"Don’t you worry about him," Miranda said not even casting an eye at the creature who did this to her son because she was too concern with tending to the wound. "Nothing is going to hurt you again, I promise. I love you Pip, god in heaven I love you so much!" She said embracing him again.

"Mum!" Pip suddenly remembered Sam and pushed away from his mother even though it felt very, very nice to have her hold him again. "You have to help Sam! They hurt him."

"Hurt him?" Miranda’s eyes hardened to granite. "How?"

"They cut him," Pip answered. "He was bleeding in the shoulder mummy, I think he’s going to die if we don’t help him."

"Nobody’s going to die little one," Elrohir said to the boy. "But we must hurry my lady, we cannot linger here. If he is hurt then we must find the Nazgul to reach him."

"Yes you’re right," Miranda said with new purpose. "Come on Pip, let’s go find Sam."

**********

Time had run out.

As Frank Miller regarded the Nazgul waiting for an answer, he knew that he had nothing left to bargain with. Ingenuity and sheer stubbornness had brought him this far but now that was nothing left to gamble with, no trick he could use to delay the inevitable. His child was in his arms, dying. He looked at Sam’s face and knew the boy was fighting to stay alive but it was a battle he was simply not equipped to fight. He should not have had to. Frank wiped the moisture from Sam’s clammy skin as if it would hold back the tide of whatever that was consuming him and knew he had to act before it was late. Frank had thought he had felt helpless when he had seen the Nazgul take Sam and Pip but it was nothing in comparison to the despair that filled him now.

"I am waiting," the harsh voice of Morgul demanded once more, piercing his skin like icicles. "Where is the Silmaril?"

"You’ll kill us both if I tell you," Frank glared at him, aware that he was stalling for time.

"I will kill one of you that is for certain," Morgul answered, aware that the human attempting to delay the inevitable. He could almost smell the man’s desperation. It pleased him greatly even though it made Morgul wish that it was Miranda here, not her spouse who was in this unforgiving situation. The moment would taste all the more sweet if she were. "You can either save your son’s life or hasten his journey but make no mistake, we will have your answer now."

Frank closed his eyes feeling the walls of his cage shrinking around him, trapping him in its totality as he was faced with the decision he knew he could no longer avoid, no matter what the cost. He hoped that Miranda understood that he had to do it. If there was even the slightest possibility that this ‘thing’ could save Sam, then he had to try.

"I don’t have it," Frank finally spoke and the words escaped him like blood escaping stone.

"That is obvious," Morgul hissed and prepared to speak again when suddenly he paused and looked at his brothers. They were reacting in much the same way. Something had stirred them just as he had been. He cast his gaze back to Frank and replied. "I no longer need you to tell me the truth. The Silmaril draws close."

Frank’s eyes widened. Miranda was here!

Hope began to flood inside of him. If he could just hold out until they arrive. He could get Sam out of here and get him to a doctor. He glanced down as his son whose body was shuddering from the effects of the wound. Seeing him in this way tore Frank’s heart to a thousand pieces. He had to get help. He could not face the possibility of having to bury his own child.

"What about my son?" Frank asked. "You said you could help him."

Morgul turned to him and started to laugh. It was a deeply offensive sound full of malice and hatred. Frank felt his blood turn cold as he started to realise that Morgul had been playing him, that this Nazgul never had any intention of helping him.

"Help him?" Morgul gloated as he faced Frank. The others were scattering throughout the room, preparing for a fight. "Why would I help the Ringbearer? This little cretin is the cause of all this! If it were not for him and his master, our lord Sauron would have ruled the world until the end of time. An empire was destroyed the instant your son and his compatriot flung what was not theirs into the pits of Mount Doom. Did you think I would let him go? Or live for that matter? I hate him almost as much as the bitch dog you married. I almost killed you once Faramir of Gondor and that is who you are. This shell you wear is nothing, a skin covering the forgotten child of Denethor. You would have died by my hand if not for Isildur’s upstart progeny. I could kill you now but it would avail us nothing. I am after all not unreasonable and if you are willing to listen, I think we can come to some arrangement."

"Not bloody likely!" Frank shouted. "You’ve shown very little ability to keep us against our wills. We’ll get out of here and we’ll get Sam help, without you!" It was an empty threat and he knew it but Frank was past caring.

"You stupid human," Morgul looked at him. "Did you think I would harm your child out of sheer vengeance, while my lord is still a prisoner in Valinor? My lord’s lover believed that fear for your children’s lives would force your cooperation in negotiating for us with his captors, but I know your kind too well and I know treachery for even longer. Your child will die unless you go to Valinor. The help you seek can only found there. There is at this moment, a plane waiting in a hangar outside Goslar. When your woman arrives here with the Silmaril, you will be taken there to make the flight. The Valar will let you pass through the veil because of what you carry. You will negotiate for us and bring back our lord and only then will your son be returned to you."

"He will die before that!" Frank declared.

"The poison takes times to work," Morgul answered. "I crafted the Morgul blade specifically for the purpose. You have four days, no more. If you do not return to us in that time, your son will join us, a fitting end for a Ringbearer."

He was lying, Frank was certain of it. Sam did not have four days. He did not doubt that a cure could be found in Valinor but Frank would never get it to Sam in time for it to be of any use. Morgul had said it himself; he hated Sam as much as he hated Miranda. He would not consciously allow Sam to be helped if he could prevent it. Everything he was saying to Frank now was a lie, Frank knew it was just a ruse to trick him into cooperating.

He was desperate. He had to find a way out this situation. He knew the Valar would not willingly allow Saeran to go free, not for the life of one human child. The Nazgul were trapped by the belief that the Valar were the antithesis of their master, who would see no difficulty in sacrificing a child for his own ends. They did not think that Valar capable of making the hard choices. Frank however, was not so blinded. Even if he agreed to negotiate for their master’s release, Frank would not be saving Sam. All he would accomplish by carrying out the Nazgul’s plans would be to expose Sam to an enemy who had even more reason to want him dead than these Nazgul servants.

Helping the Nazgul was not an option. However, what Morgul had said about a plane waiting to take him to Valinor was.

He had no idea how this barrier between worlds functioned, only that the paradise world of the elves was protected by it. Only the elves could pass through the barrier and those who journeyed with them. That was how Bryan had been sequestered away. The twins had said that they could return with a ship built specifically by a group of elves called the Teleri, that no other vessel reach Valinor otherwise. However, none of those vessel carried with them the Silmaril and something that had once been a part of the great trees that had given light to the world, could be felt. If these Nazgul could feel it then the Valar had to as well.

Frank had to believe that or the plan he formed in his mind would die in the making and with it, his son.

"You are right," Frank swallowed as his gaze dropped to the ground, scraping the dirt-covered floor in a gesture of submission. "You win. I’ll do what you want. I’ll get your master back for you," he said bitterly, his eyes full of hatred when he finally lifted them to Morgul. "You make certain my son remains alive to benefit."

Morgul had no intention of keeping any such promise to Frank but the human did not need to know that as this point. It had taken quite a bit to break that proud spirit, still so defiant after all these years. Another lifetime did not change the soul residing within Frank Miller. It was just as powerful and resonant as the day Faramir of Gondor had faced Morgul on the field of battle. Forcing Frank to submit now was a great step and one Morgul intended to exploit to its fullest measure.

"They are approaching," one of his brothers’ spoke from the door.

"You will speak to them," Morgul said to Frank. "You will tell them to lower their weapons."

"My wife will never agree to it," Frank answered. "She won’t trust you to honor your word."

"As long as my master is entrapped, there is always room for negotiation," the Witch King declared. "You will tell her to obey or else this negotiation ends with your child’s blood soaking the ground."

Frank clenched his fists in anger, forcing himself not to be baited by Morgul’s words. There was no need to give him any more pleasure than he was already experiencing. Instead, he channeled his anger into the part he needed to play to perfection if this plan known only to him, was going to work. "Fine. I’ll talk to her."

He went to the mouth of the cavern and paused, flanked by Nazgul on either side of the entrance. They were waiting for him to betray them, reluctant to trust him even though they held his child’s life hostage. Frank wish he could oblige them but for him to relay his plan to Miranda and the others, they had to be here and it was not much of a plan really, just a desperate gamble borne out of a father’s desire to save his child. He looked at Sam once more, lying on the rock, his young body shuddering like a leaf in the wind. He thought of the child he had cradled in his arms, who had won his devotion with his first smile and Frank knew that he could not face Miranda with the news that they had lost their eldest. He simply could not.

"Miranda!" He called out, hating himself for doing this but comprehending he had no choice. "Miranda, if you’re out there, lower your guns."

He heard the approaching footsteps halt instantly and could imagine the questions that must have surely been hurtling through Miranda’s mind. He waited for the inevitable response, knowing that she would answer once she was certain that it was he.

"Miranda luv," he called out again to reinforce her belief. "It’s me, Frank."

"Frank?" She returned after a few moments, "what’s happening?"

Even through the distance, he could hear her confusion.

"Miranda," he repeated himself. "You have to trust me. You have to lower your guns to approach. There’s no other way."

Another noticeable pause followed and he could almost hear the argument she must be having with the others. He saw the Nazgul staring at him, he could see the way their bodies were flinching and guessed that the Silmaril must have been having its effect on them. It was meant to be a force of purity, something that would burn away the darkness. Frank had never intended to perform such a practical test but he had no choice now.

"Frank, are you sure?" Miranda asked again.

"Luv, you have to trust me," he repeated himself. "Sam’s badly hurt. If we don’t do it this way, he’ll suffer something worse than death."

He knew his wife well and he knew telling her about Sam would tip the balance in his favor. He hated using her powerful maternal instincts in this way but he was driven by equally powerful paternal need to save Sam. He heard the footsteps resume and peered out of the cavern entrance to see that she had put her faith in him and was walking to the cavern, the weapon in her hand lowered. Behind her, Elrohir and Eric were flanking her cautiously while to his intense relief, he saw Pip walking hand in hand with Eric. The child’s eyes brightened at the sight of his father and Frank wished he could have given Pip the welcome he wanted but the moment was far too tense for that. This had to be played out to its inevitable end.

"Frank, what’s going on?" Miranda asked when she was near enough, her eyes fixed upon the Nazgul beside him.

"Sam’s been hurt," he said cautiously.

"Pip told us," she replied.

"Not how badly," Frank explained as she neared the entrance paused. "You want me to cooperate, you’re going to have to give me some room to move." He gazed briefly at Morgul.

Morgul nodded at his brothers who promptly retreated from the doorway, knowing what was at stake. Frank let out a sigh of relief and turned back to his wife.

"They’ve wounded him with something that will turn Sam into one of them if we don’t get him help."

"What!" Miranda burst out, her hands tightening around her gun once more in fury.

"A Morgul blade!" Elrohir hissed in outrage and turned an accusatory eye at Morgul. "You vile creatures would visit such pain on a child!"

"Calm down," Frank said sharply to the elf, trying to diffuse the situation. The others were just as angry as Elrohir. Frank could see storm across their faces. However, Elrohir’s strong words were provoking the Nazguls’ own baser instincts and it would take one rash act to turn this entire situation bloody. "He says that that the only way to help Sam is to go to Valinor, is that true?" He looked at Elrohir.

"Yes," Elrohir nodded, "my father has healed such a wound before but speed is of the essence. We would have to take Sam there immediately."

Miranda had no sooner reached Frank than she followed his gaze and was led to the sight of Sam lying on the ground, appearing as sickly as Pip had described him. All sense was driven from her as she hurried forward, caring little about the delicate balance of the temporary détente that Frank had forged with the Nazgul.

"Oh my God, Sam!" She ran to his side and immediately swept him up in her arms; unaware that her horror of her child’s predicament was giving great pleasure to the wraith whom had inflicted the wound upon him. "Oh my baby," she cried out as she felt his face and recoiled at how warm his skin felt under her palm. She felt the heat and the moisture. He trembled in her arms, a shuddering action, which compound her terror even further. "Frank, he’s burning up!" She looked at her husband helplessly. She rocked him in her arms, holding Sam to her breast as if he were still an infant. He did not struggle in her embrace and seem almost oblivious to his presence.

"Sammie," Miranda spoke laying him on the ground so she could look at the wound. "It’s mummy, I’m here. We’ll make you better."

"How sweet," Morgul said taking a step forward, relishing her fear. "I had no idea that using the whelp in this manner would be so satisfying."

"You bastard!" Miranda snarled almost lunging forward.

"MIRANDA!" Frank stopped her in her tracks, crossing the space between them in seconds. Morgul was itching for a chance to provoke Miranda, now that he knew she was powerless to act.

"Not now," he said calmly, taking her hands in his. "Sam needs us to be strong for him. There will be time for this later." He met her eyes and tried to convey what he needed in a fashion that would not arouse the suspicion of the enemy. "You need to keep a cool head. When I do what I have to, you must make certain that Sam is safe, do you understand?"

Miranda looked at him and began to understand that he had something unspoken in mind. She nodded slowly and swallowed thickly, her hand reaching for his face as the tears rolled own her cheeks. "I love you," she whispered. "Whatever happens, I always will."

Frank smiled and kissed her on the forehead before hugging her warmly. For a few seconds, they stayed in each other’s embrace, drawing strength from one another before Frank turned to Elladan and Elrohir who could not discern for a moment what the human was intending. Frank looked past them at Eric who was holding Pip in his arms still. "You make a good uncle," he smiled faintly at the Australian. "Keep my Pip safe. Things are going to get very dangerous when I give them what they want."

Eric’s brow knotted. His instincts sensed something hidden behind Frank’s words that made him pay closer attention to what was happening around him. Miranda was cradling Sam but there was also something in her movements that reeked of anticipation. What was Frank doing?

"You do what you have to," Eric found himself saying. "We’ll back you mate."

"Dad," Pip looked at Frank fearfully.

"It will be alright Pip," Frank answered with an effort to be reassuring. "Elrohir, give me the Silmaril."

"You can’t!" Jason protested.

"Silence!" One of the Nazgul bellowed, aiming a gun squarely at the younger man. Jason reacted in kind, raising his gun to shoot back.

"Don’t!" Frank ordered fiercely and stood between both of them before bullets could be exchanged.

"Control your companions," Morgul warned. "We have made a bargain that includes the safety of your family. That does not extend to these others." The Nazgul glared at Jason. "I have not forgotten how this one aided in my death. Your wife lives because it serves our bargain to allow her to survive. That protection does not include him."

"Give me your best shot you fucking ghoul!" Jason retorted.

"Bloody well shut up!" Frank warned angrily. There was enough force in his voice to silence the young Kiwi instantly.

"Frank," Elladan spoke, "you cannot trust him. The instant he has the Silmaril in his possession, he will kill us all."

"He cannot barter for his master without me," Frank said meeting the elf’s gaze, wishing the man knew him enough to understand that he had ulterior motives. "Please give me the artifact."

"You cannot wield it," Elladan insisted, unable to understand what was in this human’s mind. Frank was no fool, Elladan was certain. He could not have led them this far without being such but his actions now spoke of folly.

"I don’t intend it to get that close," Frank assured him. "However, this won’t end until they get what they want so I intend to see that is exactly what they get."

His words were heavy with meaning but for the life of him, Elladan could not see what it was. Frank took a deep breath and extended his hand. "I hope you know what it is you do," Elladan said reaching into his jacket and saw the Nazgul become excited at the realization at who was holding the artifact. If not for the fact that none of Nazgul could handle the jewel without serious harm, they would have already taken it from him. The Silmaril remained in a leather pouch even though it could do little harm to the elf.

"You doom yourself by this," Elrohir added, "you must know that."

Frank ignored him and drew a deep breath. Taking the leather pouch in his hand, he turned around and walked to Morgul. He swept his gaze over the area, saw Miranda on the ground with their son, her eyes fixed on Sam and also on something else, furtively. She knew what he was planning and he felt a surge of love for her because she knew his mind so well. For his family, there were no sacrifices too small and if he were to die now, he would live with that consequence. Morgul stood ahead of him waiting and Frank could almost see the gloating pleasure in his face, believing that he had tricked Frank into giving in when it was he that was grievously misled.

Eric had moved to the corner of the cavern, where an outcropping of rock provided something of an obstruction that provided some protection. He was watching Frank like a hawk and the archaeologist was grateful that he had not underestimated Eric’s journalistic sense. The twins too were aware of something, if not what exactly. At present, their thoughts could not escape the possibility of the Nazgul gaining their ends with the possession of the Silmaril. Jason was in the same position but Frank had every confidence that he would react when the opening was given.

"I have your word that my family will be safe?" Frank said approaching Morgul with the artifact.

"We have an agreement," the Nazgul said in its icy voice.

Frank reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, wrapping his palm in the soft fabric as he paused in front of the Nazgul. He could see the others in the room flinching, even if Morgul was doing his best to hide it. What Frank held in his hand had more power than anyone could conceive. He remembered absurdly of what Indiana Jones felt when confronted with the choice of destroying the ark he had so desperately sought and could not because of its historical value. Frank unfastened the leather cord that held the pouch close and let the jewel fall into his fabric wrapped around his palm, thinking that here he was faced with all the answers he had ever had regarding man and how he had come to be. This jewel had existed before that primordial awakening.

This was his ark. This was his history.

He saw it as something beautiful and ageless, a monument to its creator’s artistry, a work of art that made the Sistine Chapel and the Mona Lisa pale in comparison. All his life, he had been dedicating to find the truth. When he looked into the sparkling facets of the jewel, the fruit of the great trees, he knew that this was the truth, that man was not the master of this world but merely the newest addition to rich, textured tapestry of life. He saw all this in a fraction of a second and knew that this as much as his family needed to be protected.

The gun that he had taken from Miranda in their brief embrace was produced before he even released the thought from his mind. Aiming it at Morgul at point blank range, he emptied the entire magazine into the creature’s head without giving any warning. Morgul’s head snapped back and forth like a ball bouncing in a corner. The Nazgul had no time to react as he staggered and reeled. Frank leapt into action, enclosing his fist around the jewel for which this creature had been so willing to harm his children.

The instant Frank had acted, Miranda went for her gun. She rolled across the ground, grabbing Sam in one hand to shield him with her body while she opened fire with the other. Bullet’s exploded out of the barrel at the Nazgul who was about to shoot Frank down. She had little time to waste once depressing the trigger because she had to get Sam away from the shooting. The burst of gunfire did little to stir her oldest and as she rolled onto her knees, she saw something moving in the corner of her eye. Carrying Sam slowed her down considerably as she spun around to face the threat but it was one that was not realized as an arrow struck the Nazgul about to shoot her in the back.

"TAKE COVER!" Miranda shouted at anyone capable of hearing because she saw the arrows that Elladan had released was not one that would tolerate others in its presence.

The arrow struck the Nazgul dead center and Miranda saw its surprise and its lack of fear. Why should it be afraid? It thought itself to be invincible. Unkillable yes, but invincible? Far from it she thought and saw the fraction of a second it took for the Nazgul to realize how much. The explosion created a ball of fire in mid air and sent waves of heat flowing through the room. Jason moved next to Eric who was holding Pip close to him and ensuring her son came to no harm. Miranda let out a sigh of relief at seeing Pip in good hands. Even as she held Sam to her, she could feel the heat he was generating on his own. His body could not endure this much longer. If they did not get him help soon, he was going to die.

Miranda looked around for a place to put him where he could be safe until the fighting was done. She saw the cell that had been his prison and knew that it was sturdy enough to offer him some protection. Crouching low, Miranda held Sam tight as she navigated the path through bullets and arrows. She looked over her shoulder and saw Eric and Jason keeping the Nazgul at bay with a deadly hail of bullets while Elladan and Elrohir were using what explosives were at their disposal to ensure that Nazgul were delivered a more lasting defeat. She felt a bullet from their guns graze her shoulder, nicking the flesh slightly and utter a soft cry of pain as she reached the stone cage.

"Mummy," Sam whispered when Miranda set him down on the ground again, his eyes fluttering open to cast a glass look upon her, "Mum, I’m so tired. I can’t keep running," he muttered.

"Oh darling," she said kissing his cheek, holding his hand tight even though time did not permit it. "I’ll make you better," she answered, fresh tears escaping her eyes. "I promise you won’t have to keep running for much longer."

She had to leave him then, even though doing so left a murderous streak in her and when Miranda turned to face the enemy, she was more than prepared to decimate them from the face of the earth. The cavern was shuddering, the explosions caused by the twins were creating fissures in the ceiling and Miranda knew it wouldn’t be long before the entire roof caved in over their heads. She saw Jason making his way towards the entrance of the cave, protecting Eric as they tried to make for the tunnel outside with Pip.

Miranda turned to Frank, having lost sight of her husband in all this chaos. She saw him standing over Morgul with an expression of black hatred she had never before seen. For a moment, she had no idea who he was, this man who was so full of rage it almost frightened her. She saw a Nazgul preparing to shoot him and raised her gun promptly and dispatched him before the creature could squeeze a round. An arrow struck the Nazgul in the neck as she bolted towards Frank who was about to do something she had never seen him to do.

Kill.

***********

He was not his brother.

He did not know how to kill. Taking a life was abhorrent to him. He had never understood how anyone could do it. He could never understand the power that one creature felt over another when he inflicted death. It had been shocking to discover how much skill Miranda had in this craft and though he accepted it, he was not comfortable with the idea that she had killed before. Even when Hans’ life had been taken, even when he saw the anguish Eric suffered when the woman Dominique was lost, he tried to think of a way out of their situation, something that did not require him to be at the place where he was now.

Then he saw Sam and suddenly everything changed.

He stood over the Nazgul called Morgul; temporarily stunned by the gun he had fired. Ringwraith or not, the creature had a physical form even in a phantom state that no one could see. Bullets may have been incapable of killing it but it was not above hurting the creature now that its master’s absence had robbed it of all its former invulnerability. The jewel glistened in his palm and yet he could feel the growing heat against the fabric of the handkerchief. It would not be long before he had to relinquish his hold of it.

"You fool," the Nazgul glared at him through the ruined mask that showed nothing of its face, just two crimson points of light that were his eyes. "You think these paltry pieces of lead will kill me? Do you think anything has changed? Your son is going to die and when he does, he will be ours. You have won nothing!"

Frank did not answer and brought his foot down on the creature’s face. He did not know if there were bones to break but the satisfying sound of something crunching beneath his boot gave him intense pleasure. He lowered himself onto his knees, oblivious to the gunfire and carnage-taking place around him. The Nazgul was still reeling from the attack but Frank knew he had little time. This creature would restore itself soon enough and then it would turn the tables on him. Tearing the remnants of the white mask from Morgul’s face, his palm recoiled as it felt cold flesh like that of a corpse in a morgue. It did not feel like flesh but Frank knew that in its own way it was.

He felt the bridge of a nose; shriveled skin and lips, thin like angry slashes. Fighting the revulsion at touching it, he felt the Nazgul’s hands wrapping around his own and reacted quickly pressing the Silmaril against the offending limbs. Morgul screamed loudly, a banshee’s wail that seemed to rise over the sound of chaos. Morgul’s scream allowed his fingers to find what he had been seeking. His finger’s slipped past teeth, pushing down a throat that was dry and devoid of moisture. This was a dead thing incapable of such processes. The light of the Silmaril was growing brighter, feeding of the dark energies until its light was beginning to press against the walls of the cavern.

"What are you doing!" Morgul managed to gasp as he felt his mouth being pried open.

"Showing you what Denethor’s weakling son is capable of," Frank hissed menacingly before shoving the Silmaril down the Nazgul’s throat.

He had no sooner released the jewel into the Nazgul’s body when Morgul's body spasm in agony, forgetting all about the human hovering over him as his hands flew to his throat. A gurgled scream escaped the Nazgul as he tried to eject the burning jewel from his mouth. However, Frank was not about to let Morgul escape his vengeance so easily. Frank grabbed the Nazgul’s chin and held his mouth closed, forcing such a scream of unadulterated pain that the other wraiths froze and stared in horror at what was being done to their leader.

Morgul struggled with superhuman strength but Frank had been pushed to such unbelievable rage that his own strength was holding his own as the Silmaril began to burn. Light began to seep past the crimson points of the Nazgul’s eyes. Energy gave Morgul visibility that had been denied him for more ages than Frank could possibly imagine. The faint outline of a man appeared, bony and skeletal, given shape by the increasing outpouring of power. Light escaped the fissures of his body, emanating from his eyes, from the orifices of his ears and finally through his mouth. It was so intense that Frank had to look away after while because its glare was more than his own eyes could stand.

Frank released the Nazgul and scrambled away as he saw the light beginning to burn through what passed for Morgul’s flesh. He watched in unbridled relish as he saw the Silmaril burning away the evil, disintegrating the creation of shadow and malice. Perhaps Morgul was truly incapable of dying but the Silmaril would ensure he would remember this journey to the shadow world. The wraith was screaming like a man set alight. Indeed he was Frank supposed as he watched dispassionately the pain the enemy was enduring. The fruit of the great trees had turned the Nazgul into a being of light. It was probably the only time a Nazgul could ever be viewed as a thing of beauty. A shape of blinding white light, writhing and screaming as phantom flesh was incinerated by the power of purity, strong and brilliant.

Morgul’s screams became guttural shrieks of torment as finally the light breached its confines and suddenly exploded through the room in a powerful wave, not unlike the one that they had experienced in its awakening. Everyone turned away from the epicenter, human, elf and Nazgul alike. For a moment, they were all trapped in the same emotion of awe and wonder. However, it was brief and when the light contracted again to more tolerable levels, Frank turned back to the place where Morgul had been. All that was left of the Nazgul, the Witch King of Angmar, was the unsullied masterpiece of Feanor’s genius, resting comfortably against the empty fabric of empty clothes.

Frank picked up the Silmaril and stood up to turn his gaze on the shocked Nazgul who was understandably shaken by what they had just seen.

"You can be killed," he said glaring at them. "If you don’t let us pass, you will die like he did."

The Nazgul looked at each other, trying to decide whether or not they would gamble their fates on such a formidable weapon. No one spoke as the battle drew to a stalemate.

"We will let you pass," one of them spoke, "but you will not escape this place alive. We may not be willing to risk ourselves but there are many beyond these walls that have been alerted to your presence. They are coming and you cannot stop them all. Like our brother has spoken before, you have won nothing."

"Come on," Frank said ignoring their posturing as he glanced briefly at the others. "We don’t have much time."

He looked over his shoulder and saw Miranda approaching Sam. Elladan and Elrohir had the deadly arrows with their explosive qualities at the wraiths. Now that they had something to fear, they were no longer so bold. Frank placed the Silmaril in its pouch and slipped it into his pocket because its work was far from done. The Nazgul were right, they still had to leave this place alive. He went to Miranda who had picked up Sam from the ground.

"I’ll take him," Frank said as he took his son in his arms. "You need to fight what’s coming up next."

Miranda nodded, staring at him with a mixture of awe and anxiety. She had loved him since the moment she laid eyes upon him but until now, never knew how much strength existed beneath the veneer of the civilized scholar. At this point in time, it exuded from him like raw power. It appeared that they had both been wearing masks as concealing as those worn by the Nazgul.

"Frank, Miranda!" Eric called out from the mouth of the cavern. "Let’s go!"

The moment dissipated and they hurried out first, leaving the Nazgul to glower in impotent fury. Their numbers had been reduced, with four attempting to pull themselves together in the shadow world, having been sent them by the explosive forces of the arrows and grenade launchers. The other’s fate was not so certain. Was he truly dead as the human claimed? There was finality to what had happened to Morgul that caused them to hold back until they were certain of his fate. Despite their devotion to their master, the Nazgul were bred with an innate need for survival. They knew that whilst their master lived, so would they. Prophecy had played a part in the Witch King’s death all those years ago in Pelennor. This was the first time that they faced the possibility that they could be destroyed forever, if that was indeed what had happened to their leader. Until they knew for certain, they would allow their underlings to act for them. It was a long way to the surface and the Uruks and the other denizens of Moria would soon be on the hunt.

It was only a matter of time.

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

 The Nazgul were right, they were far from safe.

Miranda had taken the lead once again as they made their way to the lift, certain that the Nazgul’s threat was far from idle. The battle in the cavern had ensured that every Uruk Hai in the place knew what was happening and were no doubt closing in on them. They had to make it to the lift before those numbers overwhelmed them. Now that they had retrieved Sam and Pip, it was imperative that they escape. They had to find help for Sam before it was too late. Loading up the grenade launcher attached to the G36Ks, Miranda had every intention of blasting anything that got in their way to kingdom come.

Behind her, Frank was conscious of how warm Sam was against him. The moisture from his sweat drenched body was saturating Frank’s own clothes, making the latter even more fearful that Morgul had lied to him, that the time before the poison took Sam completely was even shorter than he had been led to believe. He tried not to think of what he had done back there in the cavern, that he was capable of such brutality even if it was justifiable and provoked. Knowing that he was capable of such darkness made him uncomfortable and Frank was certain that he would be thinking about this day for a long time to come.

Behind him Jason was ensuring that he stayed close to both Eric and Frank who were carrying children as they hurried up the hallway. So far they had seen no one but that was going to change. The strained expression on the faces of the elves told him that the enemy was coming. He had learnt not to understand this unique sight of theirs since this had all began. A part of Jason still had difficulty coming to grips with how much his life had changed in the last week. Not only was he called on to utilize the skills he had not had to use since his time in the service but he was coming to understand that his life would never again be the same.

The child called Pip took very much after his father. He could see it in the shape of the face and the in the eyes especially. The boy had not said very much since the cavern but was watching everything closely with wide eyes. His fear was palpable, quite understandably. He had clung to Eric tightly, drawing strength from the adult he had met only a short time ago. Eric knew that he would easily die before allowing any harm to come to Miranda’s child. This last week had been such a sobering experience. Before this, the only person who meant anything to him was Jason. He had family of course but true friends were a rare commodity with him. Now he had a sister and though that connection was not one of blood in this life, it felt no less powerful.

She was his sister in every way that mattered and Eric could not believe how good that felt.

Elladan could sense their approach. They were closing in on the company. The son of Elrond knew that if they were to make it to the place where they had first entered upon descending into Moria, they would be fortunate indeed. However, judging by the wound on Sam, it did not appear that luck was at all with them. Elladan did not wish to say how terrible the wound inflicted on the child was in actuality and that only their father had the skill to cure it completely. Neither Elrohir nor himself had been terribly interested in the healing arts despite Elrond’s best efforts to teach him. Eventually, Elrond had simply given up in exasperation and chosen to bestow his considerable knowledge on Estel and more recently on Estel’s reincarnation, Aaron Stone.

However, he knew he enough to see that a wound caused by a Morgul blade would consume the child long before they ever reached Valinor and their father. If he knew the herb lore of this world better, there was a chance he would be capable of stemming the flow of the poison but not enough for the child to last a sea voyage to the Undying Lands.

"Can you sense them?" Elrohir broke his concentration.

"Yes," Elladan nodded. "There are many. If we were better armed and in a less vulnerable position I might be incline to enjoy this."

"It would have been quite enjoyable," Elrohir grinned as he ran alongside his brother. "It has been long since we’ve been able to hunt such sport."

"I think we are about to gain more sport than we bargained," Elladan replied as the first sounds of movement became audible to their elven senses. So far they had not encountered anyone in these passages but he suspected that that would change once the paths they traveled widened. The narrow confinement made it difficult for the enemy to attack and with the Silmaril in their possession; it was best to wait until their field of vision widened. He could hear them moving beyond the tunnels they were crossing and judging by the number, there were many of them.

Suddenly, his sense of danger started screaming at him and Elladan looked over his shoulder long enough to see something at the far end of the tunnel. Was it Nazgul? Had they overcome their shock and decided that the Silmaril was worth the risk of Frank’s threat? He had barely a fraction of a second before he saw the silhouette of a weapon being raised by its Uruk Hai owner.

"GET DOWN!" He shouted in warning.

The explosion of bullets sailed overhead as they dropped to the ground. Jason immediately rolled onto his belly and released a deadly hail of his own. The projectiles surged forward, creating enough of a barrage to ensure that for a few seconds at least; the enemy would be forced to run. Those few seconds were all they had to clear this tunnel.

"Go!" He shouted. "I’ll cover you both!"

Elladan nodded just as Elrohir’s hand wrapped around his shoulder and helped to his feet. Jason waved them by as he loaded his weapon again to continue shooting. Eric and Frank had already hurried further up the tunnel, carrying their precious cargo with them. Elladan took a few steps ahead, putting a few paces between himself and Jason before he paused and looked at Elrohir.

"You go on," he told his brother. "I have one more of these explosive arrows left. I shall put it to good use to allow Jason to join us."

Elrohir was clearly unhappy with leaving him, even if it was for a short time. However, he could not fault Elladan reasoning and as much as he detested admitting it, Elladan was better with a bow than he.

"Do not miss."

"Do I ever?" Elladan joked.

Elrohir smiled faintly but tarried no longer and set off to catch up with the others.

Gunfire whizzing up and down the passage forced Elladan against the wall. The elf saw Jason slowly retreating but knew that he could not keep up this barrage much longer. The weapon he carried needed replenishing and when it was exhausted, the enemy would cut him to ribbons. Elladan did not give the human a warning; confident enough of his marksmanship to know that one was not needed. He armed his bow with the last of the explosives carried on the tip of an arrow, thinking how he would have liked these back in the day. It would have certainly made orc hunting a great deal more entertaining.

Releasing the bow, the arrow surged forward with a loud whoosh that was all but drowned out by the deafening roar of gunfire. No sooner than the arrow was released, he shouted at Jason a split second before it struck its target.

"Jason! You must come!"

Jason did not have time to respond but the explosion that sent a fireball surging through the passage was more than incentive enough to get him moving. The screams of the enemy were silenced by the blast that made Elladan flinch and long inwardly for the serenity of Valinor.

"Thanks!" Jason replied as the younger man ran towards him.

"Elves do not like to owe debts," Elladan retorted before they both hurried to join the others.

*********

After what seemed to be an eternity of dodging bullets, escaping the clutches of Uruk Hai who seemed to appear out of the shadows as if they had bled out of the walls, the company finally reached the hall of Dwarrodelf. The narrow passage to the lift lay across the floor scattered with debris and fragments of rock from their earlier firefight here. Miranda had checked her gun and knew that their ammunition was becoming dangerously low. All she had left were the grenade shells for the G36Ks and those were no good for close quarter’s combat. If it were not for the fact that Miranda was certain they had killed a good number of Uruks already, she would have been concerned.

"I’m almost out!" Jason whispered as Miranda stepped into the hall from the entry to the catacombs that ran through Moria like the honeycombs of a beehive.

"Here take mine," Eric said, surrendering what magazines he had left. "You’re a better shot anyway."

Jason took them without hesitation and noted the silence in hall that had been filled with Uruk Hai earlier. "I guess they must have decided to get out while the going was good," he remarked.

"I don’t think so," Frank replied staring at the ceiling and the walls of the halls. The darkness was making it difficult to see clearly but something was happening, all around them. He could hear it, soft sounds that reminded him of insects packed closely together, their tiny legs clawing over each other in some confined space.

"Its them daddy," Pip exclaimed from Eric’s arms.

"Them?" Miranda looked over her shoulder because she too could hear that eerie sound, "what’s them."

"Goblins," Elrohir said grimly before releasing a sigh of impending doom. He began arming his bow once more, taking a mental note of how many arrows there were in his quiver. Not enough he thought grimly but kept that observation to himself since it would avail them nothing. It would not change the outcome of the battle.

"What?" Eric stared at him incredulously. "Did you say goblins?"

"Is that any harder to believe than anything else we’ve seen?" Jason gave him look.

"Can we make a run for it?" Frank asked as he saw that swarm crawling down the walls and knew that there were not just dozens as there had been Uruk Hai. These numbered in the hundreds, at least.

"We’re bloody well going to try!" Miranda declared. "Everybody make for the lift. Anything gets in your way shoot it!"

Her blunt words inspired them to break into a run as they hurried across the great hall unaware that the same flight had taken place almost a hundred thousand years ago by some of their past incarnations. However, even as they ran, the sound of movement had evolved from a distant rumble to a dull roar rushing at them like a great wind. The true magnitude of their situation began to dawn on them as they saw the enemy closing in on them from all corners. Unlike the Uruk Hai, these creatures were not powerful or possessing of any warrior spirit. These were scavengers, accustomed to eating the rotten things of the world, carcasses, flyblown middens and when the need arose, each other.

"Jesus Christ," Eric whispered as the swarm began to surround them despite their efforts. It was like trying to hold back the tide.

Frank saw the goblins surrounding them in a circle of steel. They carried weapons of old, swords and maces, arrows and pikes. Against guns they were quite inferior but their numbers ensured that there would still be more of them when bullets were exhausted. The passageway to the lift was within sight but they would never cross the bodies arrayed against them to reach it. Frank looked at Sam who was longer reacting at all to anything and felt a fresh wave of despair in realizing that after everything they had fought to accomplish, they were going to fail within sight of escape.

There had to be another way.

The darkness crowded on his thoughts and made it difficult to think. He saw Miranda preparing for a fight. She was loading grenades into her gun, her expression determined and grim, masking the defeat that must surely be making itself apparent to her now. He thought of Pip in Eric’s arms, terrified and pale, dying in a place like this, entombed beneath miles of rock, never seeing the surface again. He and Sam were just children. Their lives were only beginning. They deserved better than a terrible end in the depths of the world, so far away from the sunlight.

Sunlight.

The idea came to him a like a proverbial of lightning. Breathing hard, he scarcely believed that his could be the answer. They were completely surrounded now, unable to move. Miranda, Eric and Jason had raised their guns, preparing to release a barrage if necessary. Elladan and Elrohir were taking a similar stance with their arrows. Eric had lowered Pip down because he needed both hands. The youngest member of the Miller family made his way next to his father.

"Daddy," he said softly, "I’m scared."

"I know," Frank looked down at his son and smiled, "but we’re not finished yet."

He had good reason to be frightened as Frank looked up and saw that they were surrounded by goblins, their teeth snarling, held back only by the alien weapons they did not recognize. He saw serrated teeth, eyes that looked decidedly reptilian even if they were attached to roughly humanoid forms. As soon as their confusion evaporated as to whether or not their prey was a threat, they would and none of the humans or elves would survive that united assault.

Unless what he intended to do worked.

"Elrohir!" He called out.

The elf looked over his shoulder just in time to see something thrown at him. He caught it easily with one hand and realized it was the Silmaril in its leather pouch.

"Why?" Elrohir looked at him in confusion.

"Only an immortal can wield it remember?" Frank declared, reminding the elf what he had told them about the jewel.

"Yes, but..." Elrohir started to say when understanding flooded his consciousness. Dropping his bow immediately, he removed the Silmaril from its pouch and enclosed his fist around the smooth facets of the ancient jewel. He felt its warmth within his palm, filling him with its power. For an instant, it felt like he was home in Valinor for the jewel infused with the feeling of that place. Elrohir closed his eyes as the sensation washed over him and for a second, he could almost understand why so much blood had been shed for the possession of this jewel. It had its own life, hypnotic and awesome.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the light peeking through the cracks of his hand. The Silmaril had been borne of the great trees, Laurelin and Telperion; their light locked forever in the facets fashioned by Feanor. It was said that in their own way they lived. What should have been a thing of beauty had become the firebrand of great despair for those who could not see the miracle of it but sought to possess it like a master would possess a beast of burden. The great trees had brought light to a world encased by Morgoth’s darkness and in this place, this forgotten realm of the Durin’s folk, now claimed by the creatures he had left behind; it would bring forth that power again.

Elrohir opened his hand and the light of the Silmaril burst forth like a great wave, it swept through the room with such powerful brilliance that he was forced to look away from its center. It lit every corner of the great hall in a way it had never been. Those at the center of this white-hot emanation were forced to shield their eyes, however they were accustomed to the sunlight and fared better than the enemy surrounding them. Until now they had kept the Silmaril concealed, forgetting until Frank had used it against Morgul what power was held within its glittering heart.

It was time to unleash the fruit of the great trees.

A screech unlike anything they had heard before filled the enormous room. The circle of bodies around them began to recede as the goblins were faced with the brilliance of the Silmaril feeding off the darkness that was so much of their way of life in Moria. Corners began to fill with light, shapes hidden in silhouette began to gain definition and as the light absorbed the dark around it, the sphere around them grew wider and wider. The goblins were shrinking back, unable to bear the outpouring of radiating luminescence.

"Come on!" Miranda shouted at her companions now that the way was clear. The goblins were scrambling up the walls, running to the fissures in the rock to hide away from the Silmaril’s powerful glow. She saw a few Uruk Hai remaining to fight and decided to use what bullets she had to clear their way. The burst of bullets prompted the others into moving. Eric picked up Pip and followed Frank who was already running after his wife.

Jason and Elladan flanked Elrohir who held the Silmaril and though they kept their gazes averted so that their eyes were not overwhelmed by its power, it was still difficult to see very clearly. Somehow Elladan prompted him into moving. The aura from the Silmaril was so brilliant now it did not matter if he moved. Every corner of the hall was still bathed in its radiance. The goblins had retreated, their eyes unable to cope with the glaring light and their dark, evil natures ensured they would shrink away from something of such purity.

Gunfire broke out in the midst of this and Elrohir blinked to focus his eyes and saw Jason was shooting at the Uruks who were as not deterred by the Silmaril or the light around them. Elladan had gone into action as well, pausing long enough to release a few arrows in quick succession to reduce their numbers before resuming their dash for the lift. The Uruks were momentarily repelled as they entered the long corridor that would lead them to the final leg of their journey to surface. He was the last one in, avoiding gunfire and bullets that impacted against the wall and forced him to leap out of its way. Fragment of broken rock rained across his back before he was sheathed in the protection of the narrow walls.

"Everybody here?" Miranda demanded as she stopped to ensure that the rest of her companions had made it through as safely. She waited as she saw Frank and Eric pass holding both Sam and Pip in their arms. Elladan and Jason swept past her and finally Elrohir. They all seemed well, quite remarkable considering what they had just endured.

"Get to the lift," she told him as she loaded another grenade into her gun. The glow of the Silmaril had lessened now that that they had moved to a more confined space.

"What of you?" Elrohir said not about to go anywhere until he knew what she intended.

"I’m right behind you," she assured him. "I’m just going to make sure no one follows us in here."

He saw her raising a gun and nodded in understanding, confident that she would be capable of handling herself. She had proven as much thus far.

"We shall not leave without you," he declared before hurrying away.

Miranda did respond and turned to the end of the corridor emptying into the hall. She could hear the Uruks shouting orders at each other and certain that there were more on the way to prevent their escape to the surface. Perhaps the Nazgul had overcome their fear of the Silmaril. In any case, she was not going to give them the opportunity to hinder their escape. Aiming high, she pulled the trigger and flinched at the explosive sound of the grenade launching. She did not wait to see her handiwork, hurrying away from the blast as it rocked the corridor with an earth shuddering rumble. Fire and smoke chased her up the passage towards the lift. She was almost to the lips when she noted the noise of crumbling rock had finally ceased. Miranda looked over her shoulder and saw that the passage was sealed. No one else would be coming through for awhile.

"Miranda!" Frank was shouting to her to hurry.

The others were already inside the lift car, waiting. Miranda hastened her speed, fighting the urge to discard the gun because it weighted her down. However, she knew that they might encounter more of the enemy on the surface and prudently kept the weapon at her side for the moment. Within seconds of hearing her name uttered from her husband’s lips, she was at his side. Jason slammed his palm on the button once she was through and began the lift on its journey to the surface.

"I don’t believe it," Eric said exhaling loudly as the doors slid to a close and the lift car jerked upwards, "we’re still alive."

"Thanks to you," Elrohir said to Frank. "I must confess it would never had entered my thoughts to use the Silmaril in such a way. I kept thinking that it was the last remnants of Telperion and Laurelin still left on this earth and should be protected. I forgot Feanor’s creation needs no one’s protection."

"How’s Sam?" Miranda asked, already examining her son in Frank’s grip.

"He’s very sick," Frank shook his head. "We have to get him help fast."

"Mum," Pip tugged at his mother’s sleeve now that there was chance to do so, "is Sam going to be okay?"

"He’ll be fine," she replied but her eyes showed she was not so certain.

"Only my father can help him," Elladan declared, reminding them of the reality of their situation."

Frank met his gaze and answered purposefully, "then perhaps we should go see him."

Epilogue
A Meeting of Legends

When the lift doors opened, depositing them on the surface once again, Miranda was certain that they would have to fight their way out of the mansion in the same manner they had departed the underground realm of Moria. However, instead of being confronted with the enemy, they instead face a corridor full of smoke. It appeared that the distraction they had used to lure the enemy away had taken on a life of its own and the smoke filling their noses with its noxious fumes was evidence of the raging inferno sweeping through the building. If there was anyone left in the building, they were most likely more concerned with saving their own skins rather than engaging the intruders who had caused the blaze in the first instance.

Nevertheless, Miranda was still ready for trouble when she emerged, her eyes trying its hardest to see through the smoke while the gun before her ensured that any danger would be met with deadly force. She stepped forward slowly, gesturing the others to stay back for the moment before placing her hand against the wall of the corridor and detecting immediately the heat that was radiating through the stone. Her pulse quickened, realising that all that stood between them and the inferno were the barrier of walls enclosing them on either side. The thickness of the smoke indicated the intensity of the fire. There was not much time. They had to get out while they still could.

"We have to hurry!" She shouted at the others. "The fire is on the other side of that wall!"

"We’re right behind you luv," Frank coughed as his eyes began to sting. "Go ahead and clear the way!"

Miranda nodded, trying to focus as she jogged down the corridor. The smoke thinned further along and allowed her to see shapes in the swirls of grey. Miranda glanced over her shoulder as she continued ahead, ensuring that the others were behind her. The smoke was burning its way through her lungs and as she forced herself not to cough, her thoughts filled with concerns with Sam. His weakened state could not endure the danger of smoke inhalation as well as the wounds he already suffered.

Reaching the corner, she saw the shape of someone moving past and acted before the new arrival could react. Slamming the butt of her weapon into his face, she felt the shattering of bone as he stumbled back. A running kick delivered swiftly after ensured that when he fell, he did not again get up. Miranda did not pause to check how badly she had injured him, caring only that the way for the others was clear. While Elladan and Elrohir could probably see better than she did, Miranda knew that they were almost out of arrows, if not already and the twins had no wish to use the guns.

Apparently, they found it lacking in elegance; she thought sarcastically.

Arriving at the foyer of the building, Miranda saw that it was the primary source of the fire. Flames from the explosion along the columns had spread across the roof. She looked up the staircase to the upper floors and knew that they were most likely lost to the fire. It was slowly making its way down the walls. She was rather surprised that no fire people were on the premises. After all, the Harz Mountains were not the peaks they were when Moria was inhabited by dwarfs. A fire like this could be seen from kilometres away.

"Hurry!" She called out to the others, not liking the flames overhead and what it was doing to the ceiling. "This place could collapse at any minute!"

Even as she spoke the words, she heard the creak of wood and knew that any minute was sooner than she liked. She could see floor boards and support beams disintegrating under tongues of orange flames. There was no one left in the place because the building was a blaze and unless they got out of here immediately, it would be the pyre of their deaths. The others reached her at that point and discovered the same thing she did. The door lay before them, unattended and the only means of escape. Miranda hurried out first, taking up her role to ensure the path before them was clear.

Beyond the door, she saw that there were fire crews outside, battling the fire from a safer distance because it was simply too dangerous for anyone to be inside the building. Undoubtedly, the ease of their exit from the lift to this point could be attributed to its evacuation. She saw henchman gathering outside, dealing with the locals and trying to portray the illusion that this mansion was nothing but the playground of a rich, corporate tycoon and not the haven for ancient creatures of shadow and evil. The confusion masked their exit as they hurried out the door into the grounds.

"Christ, I didn’t realise we made that much of a mess," Eric muttered as he paused and saw the amber glow that filled the night sky. The top of the mansion was ablaze despite the fire crew’s best efforts to douse the flames. Beyond the walls in the grounds of the estate, local authorities and Malcolm Industry’s staff generated a further sense of chaos that lent very well to their departure. It was an advantage that Miranda did not intend to waste.

"Never underestimate how useful explosives are," Miranda retorted as they bounded down the steps.

"Where is the van?" Frank asked, trying not to look when they passed the parking lot where Irina Sadko had met her end. He shuddered inwardly, remembering that the blood on his clothes was hers. He wondered what the Nazgul had done with the body. With the fire blazing through the building, he supposed it was a moot point since the fire was a convenient way for them to rid themselves of her corpse.

"Just beyond the tree line," Jason answered, taking a greedy gulp of fresh air. He saw the twins indulging themselves in the same way, trying to erase the fetid stench of dank air that had overwhelmed them below.

"Let’s get going," Frank urged, glancing briefly at Sam before experiencing a deep ache of worry for his son’s survival.

They slipped away from the grounds of the mansion, bathed in amber light and ensuring that they kept out of sight of the enemy. Even if they were discovered, Malcolm Industries would be reluctant to engage in any gunplay because of the civilian authorities that were present attempting to control the fire. For the moment at least, they had reached a curious sort of stalemate. Frank was certain that the company would continue to thrive and the enemy would seek other ways to reclaim their master. However, the next attempt would involve none of his family, of that he was certain.

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

"Where are we going?" Jason asked as he slipped into the driver’s seat of the van upon reaching the vehicle.

Through the windscreen, he could see the amber radiance of the fire blazing across the sky. From a distance, the damage to the building did not seem so extreme and it only hastened his desire to get away from this place before the enemy recouped from their defeat and took up the chase again. Fortunately, they had provided enough distraction with the burning building to keep Malcolm Industry thugs from discovering their only means of escape.

"Hospital!" Miranda shouted out as she settled Pip in his seat.

"No!" Frank contradicted her immediately. "There’s an airfield outside Goslar. I remember seeing it when I took the Nazgul around town trying to stall for time. Head east."

"Airfield?" Miranda met her husband’s gaze and protested, "Frank, he needs a doctor now!"

"No doctor is going to save him luv," he declared as he put Sam across the seat. "Morgul said that there was a plane waiting for me to take the Silmaril to Valinor. We’re making that trip."

"You wish to journey to Valinor in one of those metals beasts?" Elrohir said shocked beyond belief as the engines of the van rumbled to life beneath them and Eric slid the door closed. As far as he knew, only vessels built by the shipbuilding Teleri could find its way through the curtain between worlds.

"You said it yourself," Frank looked at him as he nestled himself into a seat and strapped the safety belt across his chair. "The only person who can save my son is your father. If it means taking a plane to Valinor, so be it but my son is not going to die, not like this, not as one of them."

There was such fierce determination in his voice that no one dared to say anything in contradiction and Miranda found herself staring at her husband with a feeling of intense love and admiration. He had always been strong but until now, Miranda had not guessed the truth depth of it. He may have known nothing about fighting, or handling a gun but there was power enough to move mountains and she could only stare at in him awe for a moment.

"We do as he says," Miranda agreed, offering her words as a testament to her faith in him.

"Is that possible?" Eric questioned as the car began to move.

"Morgul was quite certain that the Valar would be able detect the Silmaril," Frank explained. "If they detect us, they might let us through."

"And they might not," Elrohir returned. "The ways of the Valar cannot be predicted Frank. If you are wrong..."

"I do not think he is," Elladan broke in. "Earendil was able to find his way to the Undying Lands bearing one of the Silmaril in the First Age, it may be possible to reconstruct his feat in the same way. The Silmaril has been lost to the Valar for many ages but I would not be surprised if they were made aware of its presence when it was awoke."

"But we have to try," Pip spoke up for the first time. He knew it was rude to interrupt his elders but in the litany of words they were speaking, much of which he had not grasped, no one had mentioned anything about Sam. He looked at his brother and knew just as instinctively as his parents that if help were not found soon, Sam would die. The loss was almost beyond Pip’s ability to comprehend. It had been torture enough to be without Sam’s guidance while they were in that dark place but an entire lifetime without his brother? His mind could not begin to cope with such a loss. "If we don’t find help for Sam, he’ll die."

Pip’s words decided their course far effectively than any debate taking place before him.

"Out of the mouth of babes," Jason said from the driver’s seat.

"We have a problem though," Miranda remarked. "I don’t know how to fly a plane."

There was a slight pause before Eric spoke up reluctantly. "Well I’ve got a little flight time with a twin engine Cessna and if I had to, I could manage it. I took it up while I was dating this flight instructor."

"You mean Veronica?" Jason asked as he took the van down the mountain towards Goslar. "The tall blond with the big...."

"Smile," Eric cut him off and gave Miranda a sheepish look. "Big smile. The point is, I can fly a corporate jet which is most likely what this would be."

"We know you can do it," Frank said to him with confidence and because they had no choice but to trust Eric. However, Frank could see the affection in the journalist’s eyes not only for Miranda whom he now perceived as his sister but also her two children. He had no doubt that Eric would risk his own life at risk to save them. It was courage Frank could rely on and as he looked at the faces before him, ready to make this journey, he realised that his family had grown.

It was a good feeling.

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

It was not difficult to find the airfield that was a short distance away from he Hildesheim Military Airfield. Budget cutbacks and changes to governmental policy had seen a large portion of the historical airfield cordoned off for commercial users who rented the space for a hefty sum. It was dark when the van drove through the gates surrounding the airfield that was little more than a hangar situated on a stretch of tarmac. In the distance, they could see the tower lights of airport controllers, supervising the arrival and departure of private aircraft. Malcolm Industries’ logo was emblazoned across the hangar doors and as they approached it, saw the silhouette of a Lear 45 jet.

Frank’s relief was intense, as he had feared Morgul might have been lying about the plane in an effort to force Frank to capitulate to his demands. Fortunately, the twin engine jet waited for them on the tarmac, its open hatchway furthering the proof of Morgul’s words. It was probably the only time the Nazgul had ever been truthful about anything. It was just as well; Sam could not afford to wait. Judging by the looks of it, the flight crew had prepared the craft in anticipation of his arrival although it was highly unlikely that they could be prepared for the unexpected turn of events that were about to be visited on them.

Miranda took Jason’s handgun and slapped a fresh clip into the chamber when the car came to a halt. She slid the gun into the waistband of her jeans and concealed it with her clothes.

"Let me handle this," Miranda replied.

"Go mum," Eric grinned, perfectly aware that she was more than capable of taking care of things. The remark brought a little chuckle from Pip whom Eric winked at conspiratorially as Miranda rolled her eyes and exited the van.

"Are you sure you going to be all right?" Jason asked, having become accustomed to providing her cover in such situations. Considering what Elladan and Elrohir told them about their past together, Jason supposed that he was karmically predisposed to being at her side during a fight.

"I’ll be okay," she answered and stepped out of the van.

Miranda brushed her hair back with her hands as she strode towards the jet, hoping she did not look nearly as dishevelled as she probably did. Glancing briefly at her nails she decided that when this was all over, she would need a manicure. Well, she was a woman after all. Her approach brought the presence of the pilot from the cockpit of the craft. He was dressed casually, a slightly overweight man with a balding head and a nose that had not been set right after being broken.

"Hello," Miranda greeted.

"This is a private airfield," he growled abruptly in his thick German accent while looking at her in a dismissive manner that Miranda did not like much. Chauvinist, she thought silently.

"It is?" Miranda nodded and went for her gun promptly and aimed it at his face. "Then I guess you better leave."

"What is this?" He stared down the gun barrel in confusion and fear.

"Your cue to go," she said firmly, "get out of here while you can still walk."

The man was not ready to leave just yet and there was a part of his brain that refused to be chased off by a woman. Miranda could see it in his eyes and it brought out the worst in her. Taking a step forward with far more speed than his lumbering bulk was capable of, she pressed the gun to his lips before the man had time to retreat or register the movement.

"I won’t say it again," she repeated herself with murder in her eyes. "Go now."

The man swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing furiously as he nodded in understanding with eyes wide to more than just the gun but the realisation that he was tempting fate with his death by this continued refusal. His eyes shifted past her to the van and more people emerging from it. There were enough of them for him to accept that even if he did not get his head blown off in an attempt to overpower this woman, he would not be able to get past her companions.

"Aright," he conceded, cursing in German as he did so, "just take it easy."

Miranda stepped back, keeping the gun trained at him still but with enough room for him to move. He gave her a look of utter contempt before hurrying away from the range of her gun. She did not bother to see how far he went because she knew his first impulse would be to call for help, for all the good it would do. By the time someone arrived on the scene; they would be in the air already. Eric was already hurrying up the steps leading to the plane’s open door.

"We don’t have a lot of time," Miranda said picking up Pip up.

"I know," Frank agreed. "Air traffic control is going to give us trouble." He remarked glancing at the tower in the distance. "We better make this quick. Everyone, inside."

"Where are we going mum?" Pip asked with question.

"We’re going on a little trip," Miranda smiled at her son and was overwhelmed by how good it felt to be with him and answer his questions again. "We’re going to see Elladan and Elrohir’s people so they can help Sam."

Pip looked at his father who was hurrying towards the plane carrying his older brother and hoped that mum was right. He should have been excited about riding in a plane but he could not be when Sam was not there to share it with him.

"Hey," Jason looked at the small boy, having an instinct of what was running through the young boy’s mind. "Your brother will be fine. You want to ride with me? I’m not good on a plane so I could use your help getting through it."

"Can I look at your gun?" Pip asked before looking up at Miranda. "Can I mum?"

"Look," she said with a hint of warning Jason, "not touch, clear?"

"Crystal," Jason answered, not about to provoke her maternal instinct. He had seen it at work and it was not a force he wanted to inflict upon himself. In truth, his aversion to high places was mostly limited to being in see through lifts and staring down from the edge of a great height. In planes, he did not feel as anxious but he saw Pip’s expression in regards to his brother and wished to do something to keep the child’s mind off his troubles. Christ knows he had been through enough of hell already.

Meanwhile Elladan and Elrohir approached the plane cautiously. They had seen many of these crafts sailing across the sky during their visit here but this was the first time either would be embarking on such a journey themselves. While there was an element of eagerness at this new experience, neither could deny their concerns either.

"Don’t worry," Jason grinned wickedly as he walked past them. "If we crash, we’ll be pulverised before we feel anything."

"That is comforting," Elladan said dryly.

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

In anticipation of the journey that he would be making with Frank Miller as his passenger, the pilot who was so hastily driven off by Miranda had already lodged a flight path and acquired all the appropriate tower clearances. Morgul had been very confident that Frank would agree to the journey if Sam’s life hung in the balance and had no doubt seen to it that the plane to take him to Valinor would be ready as soon as he made the decision. Frank wondered what the Nazgul would have thought if he had seen how his plans had actually unfolded.

He can’t think anything, Frank thought to himself with a little smile of satisfaction, because he’s dead.

After a rather shaky take off owing to Eric’s unfamiliarity with the type of plane he was flying, they made their departure from the airstrip without incident. A flight plan had been lodged that took the plan through the Norwegian Sea. The Nazgul had a general approximation of where the barrier between worlds was said to have existed and had attempted to chart the journey utilising modern principles of navigation. Eric was able to follow the course that had been prepared but he noted the fuel it would take to get there and was concerned because the amount left no margin for error. If they did not find Valinor, they would have barely enough fuel to reach the Norwegian Islands of Svalbard. He did not voice this to the others because he knew it would change nothing. All were committed to getting Sam help and there was really no other choice but to find Valinor or die trying.

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

The world changes. Even in Valinor.

For the past six months, life in Undying Lands had accustomed itself to Manwe’s earth shattering news that elves could once again go forth into the world, to explore Arda as they had done so many ages ago. Since that day, the elves had been sailing from the Bay of Eldamar in their ships bound for the modern world. They returned months later with tales of everything they had seen in Arda, not to mention a pictorial account following their discovery of all things Kodak.

There was a vitality surging through the Eldar these days, inspiring a burst of creative energy not seen for many ages. New books were being read, new stories told, ideas were spreading throughout the elves like wildfire and yet, with these changes also brought a deeper appreciation for the life they had in Valinor. While the modern world was full of wonders, the Eldar were still grateful that Valinor remained a constant and they returned to her joyfully, like children coming home to their mother after long trip away. This was precisely what the Valar had wished - to see their children evolve, not remain trapped in a microcosm where nothing changed and their culture stagnating.

There was a slight shift in the order of things today; whiff on the wind that told revealed to those who could recognise the signs, that today would not be like any other in recent weeks. For Gandalf the Grey, as he was known for most of the Third Age, he was overcome with a sudden need to take a trip and it was not a trip he wished to take alone. As always, the Maia travelled with his staff, robed in white, making his way from the Gardens of Lorien to the city of Tirion. He had set out a number of days ago in anticipation of the one that was finally here.

His destination was the home of the Ringbearer, build there by the elves to accommodate the Ringbearer and her foster parents shortly after their arrival. It was quite a fortuitous journey for him because he knew for a fact that all the parties he wished to see were at the Ringbearer’s home. Galadriel, the Noldor daughter who had ruled as leader of the elves in Middle Earth for much of the Third Age, had appraised him of the situation. Those he was going to see had faint inklings that something was afoot but would not have the full scope of it until he revealed it to them.

The house sat at the edge of Tirion and was high enough to be afforded a panoramic view of the Pelori Mountains as well as the Bay of Eldamar and the distant horizon of Tol Eressea. Like all elven constructs, it was a thing of beauty, ornate in its designed by very much in keeping with the lands around it. If one did not know better, it would be so easy to believe that the house was something grown not fashioned by tools and craftsman. It was a testament to their artistry that this was a difficult thing to judge.

When he finally stood at the front door, he could hear the sounds within and knew the company within was assembled. It was early in the morning and the sounds of the Valar singing was still resonating in his ears. It seemed to add to the beauty of the day with its bright sunny heat a promise of good tidings.

"Gandalf!" Tory exclaimed when she opened the door and found the old man standing before her. Without hesitation, she greeted the old wizard with a warm hug and a delighted smile of genuine pleasure.

"Hello my dear," Gandalf greeted, "I hope this isn’t too much of an imposition, my dropping in like this."

"Don’t be silly," Tory gave him a look as she invited him into the house. "You know you’re always welcome here."

"It is nevertheless impolite to simply arrive unannounced," he reminded.

"I’m not going to argue with you because it’s pointless," Tory declared and it really was. When it came to verbal jousting, Gandalf was an absolute master at it. What a barrister he would have been, she had often thought. "You’re just in time, we’re sitting down to breakfast. Bryan and the others got home last night, so we’ve got plenty to spare."

"Ah," Gandalf nodded, aware that Bryan, Legolas and Aaron had made a journey to Formenos recently. It was rather fortunate because it ensured that they would all be together when he made his revelation for what taking place this day.

Tory led him through the house to the kitchen where the remaining members of the Fellowship were gathered around the table breakfasting. Despite his origins as a Maiar spirit and a servant of Manwe, there was a part of Gandalf who felt exceedingly human when was in the company of these men. Seeing them together drove him deep into the past and reminded him of the Fellowship and the history he was apart of. By the grace of Eru, those who were lost were now returned to them and it had surprised Gandalf immensely to realise how much he had missed them and how grateful he was to have them in his life again.

Aaron Stone was the reincarnation of Aragorn Elessar, the High King of Gondor and his friend, Strider. The Elfstone had solidified the fractured kingdom of his ancestors into something that lasted for a thousand years until the shifting sands of the world brought on the new dark age, long after everything of Middle-earth was dead and forgotten. Even in his latest guise, Aaron was still very much that man even if he was not the woodsman that Aragorn had been. His strength was that of a healer and on this day, it would be a talent put to good use.

Beside Aaron was Bryan Miller, who wore the face of a warrior as formidable as he was in this life. Bryan had been Boromir, son of Denethor, Captain of Gondor. While Boromir had succumbed to the lure of the ring, Bryan had redeemed his ancient self by protecting Fredrica Bailey, the young girl who he was now raising like his own child. When Gandalf looked at Bryan, there was so much of Boromir in him that it was uncanny. However, there was also wisdom in Bryan that was lacking in Boromir. It was an understanding that power was not often the path to salvation and sometimes the only way to resist temptation was to uphold the oaths made to oneself.

Fredrica Bailey who was called Fred by all who knew her was not entirely Frodo Baggins. There was something about her Gandalf could not comprehend, a powerful presence in her young body that he could not explain. Even his lord and master Manwe had sensed something in the child he could not fathom. Something that was beyond a Valar’s ability to explain was not to be taken lightly. At first, Gandalf had believed it was a product of Frodo’s connection to Sauron but as time hurtled past, he had begun to understand it had little to do with evil at all. Perhaps it had always been there, hidden within the indomitable spirit of Frodo’s character, a force for good that enhanced the hobbit’s natural courage.

Joining them at the table this morning was Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil and master archer who was just as happy to have returned to him his old friends as Gandalf himself. Since Aaron and Bryan’s arrival in Valinor, it was Legolas who had aided their adjustment to life here and it was a common sight to see the trio embarking on one adventure after another as they explored the length and breadth of this island.

"Gandalf!" Fred said exuberantly upon seeing him enter the kitchen with Tory and promptly jumped off her chair so that she could hug him.

"Hello Fred," Gandalf replied happy to see the child and was greeted with a similar chorus of salutations from all around the table.

"Are you here about what happened with Fred and Galadriel?" Bryan asked once the cordialities were completed. When he had returned to find out that Fred had asked to see Galadriel, he had been concerned that some dark force was putting the child under threat again.

"Not at all," Gandalf answered, sitting down on the table and keeping Fred on his lap.

"He has that look about him," Legolas’ said with an arched brow.

"Yeah," Aaron nodded in agreement. "He does."

"He has a look?" Tory asked the three men who were smirking with some hidden knowledge, with some annoyance because she could not see what they were referring to.

"Yeah luv," Bryan said with a smile, as he looked at Gandalf in smug satisfaction, "the one that means this isn’t a social call."

"Actually," Gandalf replied, "I had called on you to invite to take a little trip with me."

"Gandalf," Legolas stared at him critically, "the last time you invited anyone to take a trip with you, poor Bilbo Baggins found himself surrounded by dwarfs and lost in the Lonely Mountains with the One Ring."

"You’re kidding," Aaron looked at Legolas, enjoying immensely the growing annoyance on Gandalf’s face.

"They did not label him as the disturber of the peace in the Shire for nothing."

"Disturber of the peace?" Bryan looked at Gandalf and laughed.

"If you are finished," Gandalf silenced them all with a good-natured rumble of annoyance.

"Sorry," Aaron declared conciliatorily, "so where are we going?"

"Nowhere that involves a dragon if that makes you feel better. However, we do not have time to waste. This is a business that requires the presence of the Fellowship, Fred as well."

"Can you tell us where?" Bryan questioned further. If there was trouble ahead, he did not want Fred anywhere near it. She had been living a normal and safe life since arriving in Valinor and Bryan intended to see to it that her existence remained that way. He had promised to keep her safe and it was not a responsibility he took lightly. He simply did not expect that he would fall in love with the child and regard her as the daughter he might have had if his life had gone differently.

Gandalf was more than aware of Bryan’s concerns and spoke quickly to alleviate his worries for Fred, "it is perfectly safe Bryan, there is no danger but Fred’s presence is required."

"Alright," Bryan answered because he trusted the old man and counted Gandalf as one of his friends "I take it you want to get going as soon as possible."

"Yes," Gandalf nodded. "The situation is somewhat grave even if there is no danger. We must go soon and Aaron," he looked at Aragorn’s present incarnation, "we will need your skills as a healer."

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

Through the window of the cabin, Miranda could see the retreat of twilight in the sky. The dawn was approaching in the horizon, replacing the dark canopy of stars with reassuring comfort of a new day. She wished she could have slept during the flight but it was not possible when Sam was so ill. Sitting next to Sam, she stroked his brow trying to ignore the knots in her stomach at the heat of his skin and the shuddering of his small body as he battled against things she could not imagine. This was not right, she told herself. Sam should not be fighting this battle. She was his mother. It was her responsibility to protect him from such horrors. How on Earth had she failed so miserably?

Frank too did not sleep. He sat across her, meeting her eyes and showing her his empathy for her feelings. The same pained expression filled his face when he looked at Sam and both of them felt despair at the thought that they might not be able to save their first born.

"My father will know how to help him," Elrohir spoke up from his seat. Next to him, Elladan had taken a moment to rest even though elves did not sleep the way humans did. Elrohir sensed that his brother’s lapse into slumber had more to do with the flight they were taking rather than the need for rest. This journey through the clouds was very disconcerting and sleep would allow him an escape for a brief time.

"Are you certain?" Miranda asked anxiously, her voice choking with emotion. "I’m so afraid that we’re not going to get here in time. He’s so warm and he’s been this way for some time. If his temperature isn’t lowered soon, it could be harm him permanently."

"My father has experience in dealing with the poisons of a Morgul blade," Elrohir reassured him. "It will be good to see him again. I must say I am impressed by the speed of this vessel. I had not expected see my family for many months. A voyage such as this would have taken weeks."

"Welcome to the 21st century," Jason added with a smile.

"This place we’re going," Frank asked, "my brother is happy there?"

"Yes," Elrohir nodded. "I believe so. He has lived a life steeped in violence. I believe the Undying Lands has allowed him some measure of peace."

"Will we be allowed to leave, once we’ve arrived?" Jason asked. After all this talk about going to Valinor, it had never been mentioned whether or not they could leave. As it was, they were so far away from land that it gave Jason a deep sense of concern. He knew roughly what direction they headed and was certain that they had flown past the Norwegian Sea. If they kept travelling in this direction, they would find themselves in the Artic Circle.

"Certainly," Elrohir answered supposing that it was a valid concern. In the ages past, the Valar were reluctant to allow the departure from their shores but with the new decree by Manwe and so many of the elves leaving to discover the modern world, such concerns seemed archaic.

"Will you be able to send word to my brother?" Frank asked.

"Of course," the elf answered. "It will be done as soon as your son is taken care of."

Suddenly, a shadow fell over the cabin as if the sunlight had been suddenly stolen away. Miranda looked out the window and to see the sudden increase in clouds sweeping past the body of the plane. It also grew noticeably cooler with a chill biting into her skin.

"The weather’s changed," Frank declared.

"Too suddenly," Elrohir remarked.

"We might have just flown into some thick cloud cover," Frank explained, aware that the elves were not particularly comfortable with air travel.

"Jason," Miranda looked at the younger man. "Can you go up to the cockpit and see what’s happening?"

"Sure," the younger man answered rising out of his seat. "Its about time I checked up on him anyway. Make sure he’s not crashing us into the sea or anything."

"Could you not use the word ‘crash’?" Frank gave him a look.

Jason chuckled and followed the aisle into the cabin where the cockpit was situated. However, his amusement was short lived upon arriving at the cockpit. Eric was staring ahead with a grim expression on his face. Jason could understand his feelings as he stared through the glass at the wall of thick grey before them. Even as the distance between the plane and cloud mass narrowed, Jason could feel the first tremors shuddering through the craft as the effects of the storm began to reach them. He stared at the swirling mass of violent clouds, watching the electricity rippling across it in spidery tentacles of energy and felt his stomach tighten in fear.

"We’re not going through there are we?" Jason asked in muted shock.

"Our course takes right through it," Eric answered gravely, not moving his eyes away from the sight. "We don’t have enough fuel to get back. Either we go through that and find Valinor or we crash into the sea."

As Jason stared at the wall of grey sweeping forward, preparing to overwhelm them with its power, he wondered if they would not do so anyway.

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

The sun had risen high in the afternoon sky and the company had made the journey riding on horses that borne them swiftly to the coast of Valinor. Though it would have taken them considerable time to make the journey, there seemed to be a power greater than their own facilitating their need to reach the Bay of Eldamar swiftly. Gandalf did not reveal what this power might be but Aaron suspected the hand of the Valar in this because it felt as if time had slowed to allow them to reach their destination in good stead. After almost a year and half living in this strange, mythical world, Aaron had found the Valar delighted in the manner in which they allowed their presence to be felt. There also seemed to be some urgency in the reason for their journey, a possibility given further credence by the request of his doctor’s bag.

It was well past midday when the coast of Eldamar came into view. The Bay of Eldamar, with its sapphire coloured water greeted the travellers and afforded them with a spectacular view of Tol Eressea and the Enchanted Isles beyond it. From their vantagepoint, they could see the boats lining the coastline, the Teleri engaging in the business of shipbuilding with great excitement now that the elves were allowed to sail the oceans beyond Valinor. Since Manwe’s announcement, the Teleri had thrown themselves into their craft with a renewed sense of purpose and the fruits of their labour could be seen in the newly constructed ships that had now been put to sea.

"We shall wait here," Gandalf said as they arrived at foot of the Pelori Mountains.

"Wait for what?" Bryan looked at the wizard in question, uncertain how they had made the trip here so quickly. "Why is it so important that we be here and how the bloody hell did we get here so fast?"

"Because they are coming," Fred volunteered.

"They?" Aaron stared at the little girl and at Gandalf simultaneously.

"The rest of our company," Gandalf offered cryptically.

"The boy," Fred said with a smile and exchanged a knowing look with Gandalf that left all others in their presence bewildered.

"The rest of our company Gandalf?" Legolas declared, "we are all here. Whom else should we expect...." the elf suddenly went silent and his gaze intensified into a frown as he stared at the open sea with an expression both Bryan and Aaron had recognised as a sign of caution.

"What is it?" Aaron asked.

"I hear something," Legolas replied, dismounting his horse and walking forward across the grassy plain. His eyes did not shift from the horizon where Eldamar lay. The sound was too alien for Valinor and yet Legolas had sworn he had heard it before. He searched his memory for it and knew that despite its familiarity, there was also some difference.

"What do you hear?" Bryan demanded.

However, it was Fred who answered, "they’ve come at last."

***********

They were going to die.

Of this Eric no longer had any doubt as he continued to struggle against the barrier of formidable clouds that were threatening to plunge the plane into the sea. Across the cockpit, he could see the rain battering relentlessly at the glass while fierce winds gripped the plane in extreme violence. Even though it was freezing in the plane, there was sweat running down his brow as he wrestled the controls, determined to keep the craft aloft. Jason was seated in the copilot’s seat, beyond frightened and Eric had trouble believing that a man who had no trouble gunning down Uruk Hai or challenging Nazgul could turn white at the turbulence in a plane. However, considering that the plane’s fuel was dwindling and the engines would cut out soon after, he supposed that it was not an unjustifiable for Jason to feel this way.

"We going to die," Jason muttered, trying not to look out the cockpit.

"No we’re not," Eric said with more confidence than he felt and his palms sweating against the controls would indicate otherwise. The others had wisely strapped themselves into their seats and Eric hoped that their nerves were just as easily restrained because if Jason was any indication, they were going to be in a sorry state. "We just have to get through this cloud cover!"

Another powerful lurch made Eric’s heart pound harder and he struggled to keep the craft’s nose up. He had never flown in a storm before and certainly not one of this intensity. He could see nothing of the sky as the plane was surrounded completely by this thick cloud that almost resembled dark smoke. The plane was being tossed around in this fierce wind like a plastic bag in a windstorm and there was only so much turbulence the jet could take before its structure gave way. Each groan he heard in the cabin and the fuselage beyond it reinforced the fear that this eventuality was becoming a reality.

Suddenly a bolt of lighting came out of nowhere and struck the plane’s right engine. Eric did not see the damage but he registered the destruction of the engine with the sudden loss of altitude. He could feel the static electricity passing through the air as charged particles swept through the craft, impotently because there had been no opportunity for the current to reach earth. The plane dipped dangerously to one side and he could hear the indignant and fearful cries of his companions behind him.

"What the hell?" Jason shouted as the plane began descending.

"We’ve lost an engine!" Eric shouted as he struggled to compensate for the loss.

"Jesus!" Jason cried out, his fingers digging into the cushioned seat.

Fortunately the engines on a Lear jet were located in the rear which made there was little wing damage. If it were a 747 who wore their turbines on their wing, they would already be spiralling towards the sea. However, this was only a minor advantage because the turbulence outside made even gliding near impossible.

"What the hell is happening?" Frank’s voice suddenly demanded behind him.

"Get back to your bloody seat!" Eric snapped. "Do you know dangerous it is for you to be walking around?"

"Compared to crashing into the sea? Not much!"

"Look!" Jason exclaimed, snapping both men out of their argument.

"What?" Eric looked forward and suddenly saw the clouds around the plane began to thin.

Ahead of him, he could see the brilliant hues of sunshine pouring through the grey cumulus. The droplets of rain that were evaporating on the cockpit glass by the velocity of the wind were no longer being replace by more. The ferocity of the storm, its sheets of driving rain and bolts of lethal lightning had suddenly began to dissipate Almost as abruptly as they had entered the storm, they were suddenly past it as clear skies waited for them beyond. Frank, Eric and Jason were confronted with a sea so blue that it took the breath away and in the distance, they could see the islands that Elladan and Elrohir had described with such affection.

"Christ," Jason declared, his voice filled with wonder. "It’s there. Its really there."

"The storm," Frank guessed quickly, his hands leaning against both their seats, "it must be the barrier that keeps Valinor from our world. The Valar let us through," he said with rising pleasure, "Morgul was right. They knew the Silmaril was coming."

"We’re going to make it," Jason grinned happily. "We going to get there."

Eric was about to add to Jason’s declaration that he would now be able to glide the plane to the ground now that the turbulence of the storm had left them when suddenly, a small light began flashing on the cockpit control panel. His eyes immediately turned to it and as he realised the reason for this, he let out a visible groan of exasperation.

"Oh hell," he muttered, wondering if all the Fates were against them today. They were about to run out of fuel.

**********

 "Jesus Christ," Aaron exclaimed when the sound that Legolas was listening to so intently finally became audible to human ear. "Is that a plane?"

"It is," Bryan nodded joining Legolas as they stared into the sky trying to catch sight of the craft. "How is that possible?"

"Can you see them?" Aaron asked the elf whose eyesight was far keener than all those present.

"Yes," he nodded, "their craft is approaching. You will see it soon enough."

Bryan felt Fred’s hand in his and looked down to see the little girl standing next to him. His jaded and cynical heart leapt in affection as she gave him a look that almost bordered on reassurance. There were times when Bryan had this notion that Fred knew more about things than she let on. "Is that them?"

"Yes," she nodded. "They’ll be here soon."

"Who?" Aaron asked again.

Gandalf did not respond and the desire to question the wizard further was washed away with distant sound of the approaching plane became a loud roar that rumbled across the sky. All eyes shifted to the sky as the first sign of the craft in question came into view. The sunlight bounced off the gleaming metal as it streaked across the sky like a descending comet. From their position at the base of the mountains, they could see the emergence of other elves appearing to watch the spectacle of the approaching craft.

"Is it me or is that plane not flying straight?" Aaron asked as he noted that there was something about the way the plane was descending that did not appear quite right.

"They’re having trouble keeping the nose up," Bryan replied as he squinted his eyes to get a better look. The plane had cleared the Enchanted Isle and was presently making its way across Tol Eressea. It was not far from the coast but its descent gave those who were watching good reason for concern.

Suddenly, the loud rumble died and the air was still with silence.

"Bugger," Bryan said softly.

"What just happened?" Aaron looked at him with concern.

"Their engines just died," Bryan replied, "as well as any hope of soft landing. They’re gliding at the moment."

"They are coming this way," Legolas declared.

The jet surged across the sky and Bryan observed that its pilot had attempted to control their descent even if the craft was staying aloft with only the power of the wind. He could see the landing gears being released as wheels lowered from the belly of what appeared to be a Lear jet. There was no runway of any kind and it appeared that the site that Gandalf had chosen to pause was the only stretch of even land for some distance. If the plane was going to land anywhere it was going to be here.

They took themselves to safety, watching in a mixture of horror and fascination as the plan began its gradual descent, sailing over the island of Tol Eressea and reaching at last the shores of Valinor. Those who had been watching the plane’s approach on the shore could see clearly the underside of the craft as it flew above them. The plane glided soundlessly overhead and continued its gradual descent with flaps adjusting to decrease its landing velocity.

The Fellowship watched as the plane finally touched down, its front wheel digging immediately into the soft earth, farrowing the ground like a plough. The back wheels primarily designed for use on a hard bitumen tarmac did not fare so well and caused the plane to skid. The jet spun around at a 90-degree angle but this sudden change in direction did not halt its progress forward. It continued across the ground, putting dangerous pressure on the wheels as they were dragged through dirt and vegetation. The right wing speared the soil, causing the plane to jerk to a stop briefly before its velocity resumed its onslaught. A terrible rip of metal saw the wing torn in mid section as one of the wheels buckled and drove what remained of the wing deep into the earth.

The plane was almost spun around again but this time, as it made another spectacular arc, the wing acted as an anchor and finally brought them to a halt. The craft was in a sorry state by this point, with debris and deep farrows left behind in the wake of its tumultuous landing. No sooner than it had stopped, Aaron was running forward, having grabbed his medical bag when he realised the plane was going to crash. Legolas hurried after the doctor, with Bryan lingering long enough to order Fred to stay with Gandalf while they investigated.

"Don’t worry," Gandalf said to Fred who looked somewhat concerned. "They’re fine."

***********

They were alive but not fine.

After the landing they had been forced to endure Frank was rather certain that he would not be flying for a long time and judging by the ashen expression on the twin’s face, it would be never for them. Frank was the first on his feet after they had made their landing, ensuring that no one was badly injured. Miranda sported a dark bruise on the side of her face because she had been slammed against the wall when the wheel had buckled. She had somehow managed to hold on to Sam who had been fortunately oblivious during their landing. Pip was in his seat across Miranda, crying visibly from the terror of their descent but he seemed no worse for that. Frank let out a sigh and walked forward uneasily, having sprained his ankle during the turbulence journey across the ground.

"Is everyone all right?" Frank asked as Jason and Eric went to open the door of the craft.

"We’re fine," Miranda nodded breathlessly, looking a little pale after their nerve-racking experience.

"I shall never board one of these vessels again," Elrohir managed to say.

"I think I am going to be sick," Elladan added, his face a slight shade of green in contrast to his brother’s paler face.

Frank almost laughed but chose instead to underdo Pip’s seat belt to comfort his terrified son. The boy wrapped his arms around his father’s neck and allowed his exhausted tears to escape him.

"We’re safe now Pip," Frank declared. "We’re safe."

Jason and Eric had made their way to the front of the cabin, determined to vacate the premises as soon as possible. The sound of the plane’s cabin door opening by Eric soon captured their attention and the new voice entered their hearing.

"Any injured in here?" A man who was clearly an American asked as he paused in front of Jason and Eric. "I’m a doctor."

"It is good to see you Aaron," Elrohir greeted and Aaron crossed the floor to meet the elf in a brotherly embrace.

"You guys know how to make a dramatic entrance," Aaron grinned, glad to see that twins unhurt by the crash landing.

"Aaron," Elladan spoke up. "The boy needs help immediately. He has been stabbed with a Morgul blade."

Aaron crossed the floor of the ruined plane in three easy steps and was soon at Sam’s side.

"Can you help him?" Miranda spoke, nearly terrified to ask in case they were wrong about a cure existing in Valinor.

Aaron did not answer and immediately began examining the boy.

"Eomer!" Legolas exclaimed with happiness as he entered the plane and cast his eyes upon Eric, switching to English so that he could be understood. "You are Eomer and you are here too Merry?" He stared at Jason in surprise and pleasure.

"Please,’ Jason flinched aware that this elf must have known both his and Eric’s past incarnation if the joy Jason saw in his eyes was any indication. "My name is Jason."

"Jason it is," Legolas said not caring and embraced Jason before the latter could protest. Legolas finally understood why Gandalf had claimed that their company was coming. Another member of the Fellowship had returned to them. That could only be the cause of celebration.

"This is Legolas," Elladan introduced. "As you might have guessed, he is one of the Nine Walkers, the Fellowship of whom you were apart."

"I guessed," Jason replied, a little overwhelmed by the delight he could see in the blond elf’s eyes and was a little uncertain as to how to respond.

"We can talk of this later," Legolas spoke up seeing his discomfiture. "It appears one of your company is need of help."

"Can he help?" Eric asked referring to Aaron who was hunched over Sam at present.

"I believe he can," Legolas replied and then added, "if not we will find Lord Elrond."

At that moment, Bryan entered the plane and caught sight of Frank. The former MI6 agent’s jaw dropped in astonishment at the sight of his brother standing next to his wife and child, their eyes fixed on what Aaron was doing. It took a further second to register that the patient Aaron was working on so diligently was Sam, his nephew. His mind became a storm of thoughts as he tried to understand how this was possible.

"Frank!" Bryan exclaimed in a mixture of shock and joy.

Frank looked up and saw Bryan with a happy grin plastered across his face as he approached. Bryan did not look at all changed though his hair had grown a little longer and seemed more unruly than the regulation type haircuts that was a product of his military conditioning. It was obvious that Bryan was delighted to see him as unconcealed bursts of emotion were a rare thing where his brother was concerned.

"What are you doing here?" Bryan asked, his question following a hard embrace.

"Look there’ll be time for reunions later," Aaron suddenly spoke up abruptly, "we need to get this child to Elrond immediately."

"How bad is he?" Frank asked, ignoring Bryan for the moment because they would have words later.

"Your son’s strong and he’s fighting it but it’s wearing him down. Whatever is in this ‘Morgul blade’, it’s overwhelming him and I think there may even be a piece of it lodged inside him. I’ve given him something to slow it down but its not going to be enough and I don’t have the skill to treat something like this. Its not a simple matter of removing the blade, there’s magic to it I can’t quite grasp yet. He needs to go Elrond, now."

"I shall take him," Legolas offered.

"Wait," Miranda interrupted. She was reluctant to let Sam out of her sight again so soon after they had moved heaven and earth to rescue them from the Nazgul’s hands.

"It will be alright," Bryan reassured her. "Legolas is the best rider here. He’ll get Sammie to Elrond in good time. You can trust him."

"My lady," Legolas met her gaze and said with a smile, "it please me to see you again. You have my word that no harm will come to your son in my keep but we must hurry. Time grows short if he has met the blade of the Nazgul."

Miranda was about to question his remark about having seen her before until she realised that he was speaking of Eowyn, not Miranda. His blue eyes reached into her soul with its sincerity and if Miranda still had trouble with that, she knew that Bryan would never vouch for him otherwise.

"Take him," Frank answered while she was debating this. "Get him the help he needs."

Legolas nodded as Aaron picked up Sam and handed the sickly child to him. Legolas saw the face before him and could not help smile faintly, "it is a day of surprises then, is it not little one?" He thought of the brave little hobbit that had followed his master into the darkest place in the world and prevailed. Legolas was determined that in this life, his strong spirit would find its way into the light again. "I will go immediately and wait for your arrival at Lord Elrond’s house."

"We’ll be right behind you," Aaron replied. "We need to get more horses down here anyway."

Legolas swept out of the plane with the others following him quickly.

"Is he going to be all right?" Fred asked the moment she saw Legolas with the boy she had been seeing her dreams.

"He is very ill," Legolas offered as he made for his horse. "Gandalf, I think you should come with me. Lord Elrond may need your counsel in the healing of this child."

"I will go," Gandalf smiled and looked at the others who had arrived, "Aaron, Bryan, please see to our new arrivals and meet us in Lord Elrond’s home. This wound may require both our skills to mend."

"He’s very tired Gandalf," Fred reminded.

"I know," Gandalf nodded in understanding, aware of the almost symbiotic connection these two souls had to each other. "We will allow him to rest."

Miranda stepped forward, not understanding how this little girl whom Sam had never seen before could make such a statement.

"I’m Sam’s mother," she looked at Fred. "How do you know he’s tired sweetheart?"

"Because," Fred smiled at the woman whose golden haired glimmered with sunshine and reminded her of Galadriel’s own spectacular locks, "he’s a ringbearer too. Like me."

"We must go," Legolas said having already mounted his horse. "Gandalf?"

"We will see you soon," Gandalf said to the others and mounted his horse, a descendant of the great Shadowfax and set off towards on their journey.

Frank and Miranda watched as the two figures rode off into the distance, carrying Sam with them and all their hopes for his safety. Frank embraced his wife and shared a moment of intimacy as he gave her wanning strength the support of his faith that Sam would be healed and returned to them whole. It was good to be relieved of this terrible foreboding that had been a constant ever since they had found Sam. For the first time, there was real hope of his survival.

"How did you get here?" Bryan asked, now that there was time for questions.

Frank turned to face his brother before throwing a fist squarely at Bryan’s face.

"What am I doing here? I’ll tell you what I’m doing here you stupid prat!" Frank sputtered trying to think of more abusive things to hurl at his brother much to the astonishment of everyone present.

"What’s wrong with you?" Bryan shouted indignantly as he recovered from the physical attack and tried to defend himself from the more cutting verbal barrage, "you could have broken my nose!"

"I would need a bloody cricket bat to break that nose!" Frank snapped, "and if I’m lucky I might get what is left of your brain!"

"What?" Bryan stared at him stunned.

"Do you have any idea what we’ve gone through this week? You said you had people chasing you. You didn’t tell me you had a crazed pack of Nazgul hunting you down so that they can free their master! You could have given us some bloody idea what might be coming after us! Do you have any idea what it took to kill one of those things?"

"I didn’t think they’d come after you!" Bryan protested. "I swear I thought you were safe."

"I am disowning you! You’re not my brother anymore!" Frank shouted, still riding a wave of furious indignation where nothing he said meant anything but felt good to vent nevertheless. "You are some git who just happened to be in my mum’s house."

"Frank I’m sorry," Bryan tried to explain himself. "I really didn’t think..."

"You never think!" Frank declared. "In fact, didn’t I tell you to stop doing that all together? You’re not very good at it!"

"Frank," Miranda interjected feeling some sympathy for Bryan. In truth, if the Silmaril had not entered their lives, it was very likely the Nazgul would have never found them.

"No, no," Aaron said to her quietly, "let him continue. This is kind of entertaining."

"Are you trying to be funny?" Miranda looked at him and saw that his blue eyes were dancing with mischief.

"Wouldn’t dream of it," Aaron replied, "but I don’t see the big guy at a loss for words very often so I’m kind of savouring it."

"You’re wicked," she accused and decided she could get to like this man very much.

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

While Sam came under the ministrations of Elrond who had not been forced to treat the effects of a Morgul blade since he had performed the duty on Frodo Baggins, his twin sons presented to Gandalf the Silmaril. All of Valinor was abound by the news of the jewel’s return and those who had borne it to the safety of their shores were shown all the gratitude that could be offered by the elves. Gandalf took possession of the jewel and returned it to Varda, the mate of his lord Manwe. The queen of the heavens was more than delighted to have returned to her one of her lost children and she soon set it into the sky and called it the dawn star. It would be the star whose glow was clearest before morning’s break, a symbol to all for the coming of the new day.

"Its beautiful," Jason remarked as he sat on the grass outside Bryan’s home with the rest of his friends who had risen early today to see the first appearance of the Silmaril in its proper place in the dawn sky. He wondered what Petra Tebben would have thought of all this and felt saddened that the archaeologist and those who had paid with their lives for the unearthing of the Silmaril would never know the beauty they had helped inspire.

"I can’t believe I used it to kill somebody only a week ago," Frank marvelled in similar awe as he stared at the glittering jewel in the predawn sky.

"These Valar certainly know how to make an impression," Eric declared. "I mean this place and all everything that’s in it could be the story of my career except I can report any of it. I tell you there is no God," he sighed.

"Well technically there is a God," Tory reminded him. "Except he is nothing like what we imagined him to be. He still exists but it seems our perception of him has been a little distorted."

"Sure," he gave her a wry look, "try and make me feel better in a place with no beer."

"Oh Christ," Jason said rolling his eyes, "bloody Australians and your beer."

"Well I gave Frank a list," Bryan complained as he took of the sip of elven wine and winced because it was a poor substitute for the Yorkshire bitter he was craving.

"Sod off," Frank retorted promptly. "If you had told me about the Nazgul maybe I would have had some in reserve, just so I could take it with me when I suddenly forced to hijack a plane and flee the country."

"Are you still on about that?" Bryan groaned, "You know I don’t remember you being such a bloody whinger."

"You’ve been away awhile," Miranda joked and received a look of mock hurt from her husband. "But it’s a good thing he hit you because I would have broken something."

"You couldn’t do that," Bryan slid him arm around her, "you love me. All my women do."

"I’m only here for the sex," Tory returned. "The rest you can keep," she smiled at Bryan sweetly.

"Thanks," he laughed at the woman he loved. "Aaron will probably drop by today." He added on a more serious note. "I think Elrond wants him to check on Sam to see how he’s doing."

"He hasn’t woken up," Miranda said reminded of how uncomfortable that made her. "I wish he would. I won’t feel that he’s getting better until he does."

"He’ll be fine," Frank looked at her reassuringly, "Elrond said this would happen. Sam’s fought hard to keep the poison from taking him over. His body is still recovering from the exhaustion. Besides the wound seems to be healing and he is nowhere as bad as he was when we first arrived."

"True," Miranda had to concede that point. "He’s been through so much, I still can’t help but worry."

"So have you decided to stay?" Eric asked Frank in an effort to change the subject and keep Miranda from dwelling too much on Sam’s condition.

"For awhile yes," Frank answered. "There’s a great deal here to learn, so much about these people that I’d like to understand. Besides I’m not all that eager to go home with the Nazgul most likely still hunting us."

"They’re probably still seething from what you lot did to them," Bryan added. In truth, he was infinitely pleased that Frank and his family had chosen to remain in Valinor. Until Bryan had seen Frank again, he had forgotten how much he missed his brother and was pleased that for the first time in too long, he would be able to see Frank on a regular basis.

"And you two?" Miranda looked at Eric and Jason.

"Well even if I went home and decided to tell the world about Valinor, I’m certain I’d be locked up in a padded room, that is if the Nazgul don’t get either of us. So I guess I’ll stay for a while. I always wanted to write and this place is worth a couple of books at least. If I can’t report this as fact, I can at least write it as fiction. If I ever go home, it will be ripper of a read. I could be the next David Eddings."

"And I’d better stay to keep him out of trouble," Jason added.

"Bullshit," Eric returned, "you’ve seen the women and here, they finally find you interesting."

"And you haven’t Batchelor No.2?" Jason returned.

Tory let out a sigh and looked at Miranda, "this used to be such a nice neighbourhood."

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

Sam felt as if he had been walking down a long dark tunnel towards a flicker of light in the distance that seemed for a time, as if he would never reach it. The journey towards it had been exhausting and there were moments when he was almost ready to give up but he pushed himself onward nonetheless, convinced that the light was a passageway to the world he knew. He no longer felt the enemy chasing him and the danger they had represented inside this place had diminished to nothingness since he began the journey through this tunnel.

After what seemed forever, Sam had finally reached it and when he felt its warmth filling his senses, he saw the tunnel had evaporated and around him were walls, walls that formed a room. He looked that the windows with sunlight pouring through the parted curtains, drifting forward by a light breeze. He saw rooms that were painted in a light hue and wooden floorboards. There was something about the room that did not seem real, as if it had been created in a dream and had somehow been given shape. He sat up in his bed, an enormous thing with bedposts that were carved with ornate designs. He looked outside the open window and could see mountains. They were like mountains he would see in a picture book, magnificent and awesome.

"Hello," he heard her voice from his left.

Sam turned slightly and found himself looking at a young girl a little older than Pip. She stared at him with luminous blue eyes that seemed terribly familiar.

"Hello," he said back.

"I’m Fred," she smiled coming closer to the edge of the bed. "I knew you would wake up."

"You did?" He looked at her with bewilderment, unable to shake this insistent feeling that he knew her from somewhere. "Where am I?" He asked instead and once that questioned escaped him, a litany of others followed. "Where are my mum and dad? Where’s Pip?"

"They’re here," Fred replied in a calm voice, sensing his anxiety at not knowing how he had come to be here. "Would you like me to get them?"

"Yes," Sam answered, filled with the overwhelming need to see his family. It felt so long since he had last seen them and he remembered nothing about how he had come be in this bed. However, the more he looked at her, the more he felt compelled to ask another question. "Do I know you?"

"I’m not sure," she answered truthfully. "I feel like I know you but I can’t remember how. I know you are the other ringbearer."

"Ringbearer?" He looked at her.

"Yes," she nodded, dark hair bouncing off her shoulders as she did so. "The bad ring, the one that talks. You carried it too. I don't remember anything else about it though."

"They were chasing us," he met her gaze and suddenly, a distant memory of running through the darkness, of scrambling through sharp rocks and evil looking woods filled his thoughts. Sam felt his heart beating so fast as he remembered the sound of pounding hooves against dirt, chasing him relentless. He remembered all this and the memory of someone who was at his side, someone who shared the black oblivion of those terrible dreams with him. As Sam looked at her, he suddenly knew without being able to explain it that she was that other he could never remember until now.

"Black Riders," she said.

His eyes widened as he asked her softly, "are we safe now?"

Fred looked over her shoulder at the open door and waited a moment before she answered him.

"No," she met his gaze with one of profound sadness, "we're not."

NOT THE END

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