Prologue
The Changing World

The world changes.

She who was once called the Evenstar had said this often during her lifetime.  She said it as a testimony to the rapids her own existence had become, particularly after her choice of a mortal life. Those who knew her in the flesh remembered her fondly for she was difficult to forget, especially in the minds of the immortals. Nurtured in loving memory, the words remained when the images of her faded away as time tumbled forward as it inevitably did.   She, like the rest of the world they knew, which disappeared into the horizon of the sea they had crossed in a time so distant, had become that most intangible of things, myth.

Still even myths are mortal though they take far longer to die.  Thus it came to pass that the realm called Middle earth vanished forever into the mists, forgotten in every aspect save a faint trace of sensation whenever one happened along the places it once had been.  The world took on a different shape in the hands of its inheritors, the race that came from Hildorien who survived the changes despite their memories being too short to perpetuate the history of what had been.  They were flames that burnt bright but brief.  Their cities rose and fell.  They conquered and were conquered. Their seed spread to all corners of the globe and though they knew something amiss, for they felt trace of magic retained in memory that brought sparkle to their eyes when they tried to remember, they never could find it.

The golden age of man came and went without any one remembering it. The great kings of past were forgotten like their kingdoms, disintegrated into a world of bitter struggle, devoid of wonder and magic.  The men who followed in the aftermath were of an entirely different breed from those that emerged from Hildorien.  They were ambitious and driven to master their domain in every manner possible.  If there was land, they conquered it.  If there were beasts, they tamed them and if there was any enemy, they destroyed it with a precision that would have frightened even the foulest of orcs.

Ironically, man’s finest moments in history were often accompanied by his bloodiest.

They still craved the beauty of that earlier age when as race they had been young and innocent though they held no tangible memories of it.  In their hearts, they felt its absence and often wondered when the starlight had vanished from their lives.  They sought to recreate it in their endeavours, either in reaching for impossible goals or replacing the awe and wonder of those earlier times with myths of their own, though these were often badly constructed and led to more destruction then any real good. Finally, they came to think that there was no such thing as magic and wonder, that it had been a fanciful illusion and abandoned their search for it altogether.

 If there was any innocence left to the race of men, it was burned away forever the moment wonder was given up for reason. 

In the wake of its destruction, the world and the men who lived in it continued their existence in a juggernaut of change, not always for the better.  An insatiable need arose to conquer all frontiers and when those were exhausted, the snake began feeding upon itself, slowly reaching implosion.  It was only a matter of time before someone chose to take advantage of this chaos and turn the cycle of change into the spiral of Armageddon.  Ironically, it was the search for the very thing that they had been missing in themselves that allowed the this catastrophe to find its root in the new world.

It should have answered all their questions and filled the void inside of them.  Instead, it would destroy them.

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

Behind the veil that separates one world from another, the immortals lived in a strange sort of stasis.  They enjoyed beauty, tranquillity and peace in a realm that was remained unchanged over the course of thousands of years. For most part they were content, though some took too leaving their enchanted world on occasion, curiosity of the outside world compelling them to see what had become of Middle earth in their absence.  Most returned rather quickly, while some did not return at all and the stories brought back were often conducive to discouraging those who might feel the urge to journey abroad from doing so.  The immortals came to the firm conclusion that the world had been spoiled by the race of men and it was best to wash their hands of it.

There came a time when all journeys past the enchanted isles halted all together for the immortals had received their fill of the world beyond them and had no wish to dwell on times that were long past in a present that had nothing to redeem itself.  They devoted themselves to the finer things of life and became more removed from its harsher realities then ever before.  The dark times of the early ages melted away into distant memory and after awhile, it was almost difficult to remember that they had once battled such creatures as Melkor, his servant Sauron and their demons.  While the Valar became even more unapproachable with the passing ages, the First Born who shared Valinor with them were a little more grounded.

They remembered fondly the world behind and mourned the changes it had suffered since their departure. They thought kindly of men, knowing that it was unfair to judge a race whose lives were so finite when they had the luxury of all the time there was.  Mortals were not evil, they were simply young and the nature of their existence ensured they would never live long enough to gain wisdom like the immortal elves.  Even when the Eldar had existed in Middle earth, they had come to accept the mortals as children that needed guidance.  Being sequestered away in Valinor for almost a hundred thousand years did not change that perception among them.

Perhaps it was because they were so removed from danger and evil, that they were taken completely by surprised when they felt tremors of chaos so fierce that not even the barrier protecting Valinor from the rest of the world could keep it out.   It was like the sun slipping behind the clouds for an instance, taking with the heat and leaving a brief interlude of cold.  The chill was felt by every one, even the Valar and though they could not discern what had caused, they knew something was emerging, something dark and terrible was beginning to take root in the outside world.

Following the incident, there was much rumbling of discourse emanating from Ilmarin, the mansions of the Valar Lord Manwe, at the peak of Mount Taniquetil.  The Eldar held their breaths in anticipation as the Valar debated what to do. While the cause of the tremor was not made clear to them, its urgency could not be denied by the reaction of the Valar in how to deal with it.  For the first time in so many ages, the Valar had been shaken out of their complacency to act, though the Eldar could not fathom what could force them to do so.

Finally, a decision was made and like so long ago, Manwe chose his servant to go forth from the Timeless Halls into the world beyond Valinor, to deal with the danger that would undoubtedly consume both worlds if ignored.   He set this task to Olorin, a Maia who had distinguished himself greatly in the eyes of all during the Second and Third Age when he had been instrumental in the downfall of Melkor’s dark servant, Sauron. He was also one of the two surviving ‘walkers’ in the Fellowship of the Ring, the other being the Sindar elf, Legolas Greenleaf. Olorin who returned to the Timeless Halls and dwelled in the company of Nienna the Compassionate after his labours in Middle earth was done, accepted the duty before him without question and prepared for his departure across the Enchanted Sea.

Legolas offered to accompany Olorin on his great mission but the Maia declined citing that the world beyond did not have much use for elves and may not receive Legolas well. Fearing that his presence would complicate an already difficult quest, Olorin set out across the sea alone. 

He did not return.

For a while, the Valar could sense their agent in the other world, could feel his mind and thoughts as he conducted himself on their behalf.  However, it was not long before that connection was severed and from then on, Olorin became as great a mystery to those at Valinor as the evil that had inspired his journey.  They thought he might be dead but if that were so, his soul would have returned to Mandos. 

Wherever Olorin had disappeared, he remained lost for the next four hundred years.

Part One
John Doe

In what passed for the modern world, there was no place that epitomised it more than New York City.

The twentieth century in all its grandeur, its mechanized momentum and dynamically driven pulse lived and breathed in the city that heralded Wall Street, the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building.  The people who walked its streets felt the power of it.  It had as much to do with their identity as genetic make up.   Whoever coined the term ‘urban jungle’ was undoubtedly thinking of New York, even if he did not know it.  The name alone, conjured images, from people a world away, of rapidly evolving progress that quickened the breath merely thinking of it.

Even in the wake of its greatest tragedies, New York seemed to take its defeats like a punched drunk prized fighter who did not know when to quit.  These days the arrogance of the typical New Yorker had bled away to a quiet strength and a sense of self worth that had risen in the face of adversity. The evidence of the destruction was everywhere, even when it was slight.  It could be the gapping emptiness where so many had lost their lives in a cataclysmic expression of human madness, or a dying flower against a bitumen pavement. Inadvertently, one would find themselves at the same place, no matter what triggered their memory to begin with. 

A New Yorker still walked the streets like he owned it but now it was with the knowledge that he earned the right to be there.

Doctor Aaron Stone was present at one of the first hospitals to be assailed with casualties after the hijacking and the subsequent destruction of the World Trade Centre. 

He was a doctor who never quite left residency.  He should have been conducting medicine from a leather wing chair in some Park Avenue address but could never bring himself to leave the frantic activity of the hospital where he had began his medical career.  In truth, he had every intention of becoming a surgeon when he first enrolled in medical school but by the first year of residency, he had decided that psychiatry was what he truly wished to do.  The healing of the mind became an infinitely more important field of medicine to him and until the tragedy of the World Trade Centre; he had never questioned that decision.

When the casualties were brought in with horrific injuries from debris, fire and other symptoms of the fallout following the destruction of the twin towers, he suddenly realised that he wanted to heal flesh as well as the mind.  Fulfilling the necessary requirements, Aaron divided his time between the hospital emergency room and the psychiatric ward.  While some might think it frivolous, Aaron felt he had achieved some form of balance at least in his own conscience, in being the doctor he wanted to be.   It certainly helped him sleep better at nights, even if his dreams were rather strange.

He did not give them much thought although he wondered what Freud would think of the vague dreams that left him with the sensation that something in his existence was lacking and he could not for the life of him discern what it was.  For as long as he knew, he lived with this strange void inside of him that no amount of conscience pandering decisions could fill.  It was a peculiar to feel incomplete, particularly when he had unburdened himself of the limitations most people placed on their lives by fear or by circumstances. It seemed to creep at him especially at night, when he looked up into the twilight sky and found himself staring at the stars like the secret to all the questions in the world was waiting for him in their light.

There was no reason for him to feel unfilled after all, as lives went he had a pretty good one.  It was beset with its own tragedies, in particular the loss of his parents and since he was an only child, it was hard not to feel alone particularly during the holidays and birthdays. He had acquaintances but only a few close friends. He seldom had a woman in his life long enough to consider it a relationship and his colleagues seemed to think he was the handsome doctor enjoying the bachelor life to the utmost.  However if anyone had asked Aaron, it would have surprised them to know that it was not that at all. 

He was searching for someone who did not exist.

She did somewhat in his dreams, though if he were asked to describe her or the circumstances of their encounters in the dreamscape, he would have been hard pressed to answer.  Yet when he did dream of her, he impact on him was more than just the image of some ideal fantasy woman but rather being flooded with a burst of emotion. It was passion and deep abiding love combined into a rather potent mix that awoke him with that same feeling that his life was not all that it should be.   Aaron wondered if he felt this way because a feeling of displacement dogged his whole life.

There were times when he was visited with flashes of insight that told him where he should be for no other reason then because it felt right.  Like the day he had decided to go to the hospital because some instinct compelled him to do so and then found himself surrounded by a deluge of patients following the tragedy of the terrorists attacks.  His premonition had allowed him to be on hand to help and it was an event he did not regret being thrust into.  There was deep sense of satisfaction in knowing that his actions had helped to ease the burden of that terrible day.

Fortunately, there was no instinctual reason governing his presence in the hospital today, other than paperwork. Despite being one of the most respected doctors on staff, he was often on the verge of violating dress codes because his choice of his wardrobe did not extend itself beyond jeans, sneakers and a long sleeved t-shirt. When he was required to face patients, he donned on a respectable white coat but did not hold with the notion that he had to look the part when it was enough that the he was a doctor.  His dark hair was not exactly long but it could not be considered short either and though he was nearing middle age, there had been many of times he had been mistaken for a first year resident.

The psychiatric ward was busy today. As he made his way towards his office, his gaze registered briefly the non-violent patients wandering through the hallways, lost completely or partially in their own psychosis, awaiting evaluation so they can be transferred to either state run or privately funded psychiatric hospitals.  Orderlies remained visible while they kept a close eye on them and nurses hurried from place to place with medication.  It disturbed him that there were so many patients that he had become indifferent to them but he supposed these were the calluses doctors were meant to grow over their feelings in order to ensure professional objectivity.  The words sounded impressive but the practice was surprisingly hard for many.

”Doctor Stone!” Aaron heard his name echoing down the hallway from behind him. The voice was familiar to him because he knew most of the people on staff and was able to narrow down the possibilities.

Aaron turned around and saw Warren Sheldon, one of the second year psychiatric residents on staff walking towards him.  It was early morning and judging by the bleary eyed look on Warren’s face, it appeared the young man had been on call last night.  Warren was an able young man but Aaron was certain as soon as he was done with his residency, the extent of his psychiatric practice was going to be listening to rich matrons telling him what was wrong with the world and why breast implants would cure all of it for them.

”You’re still here Warren?” Aaron said with some measure of surprise because someone else would have taken over Warren’s shift by now and he really did look like he needed the sleep.  The young man’s light blond hair was ruffled as if he had ran his fingers through it too many times and he appeared more sallow looking then usual.

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about a John Doe that was brought in last night,” he remarked rubbing the bridge of his nose, a gesture Aaron had come to associate with Warren preparing to refer him a case that was too much for him. 

“Tell me about it on my way to my office,” Aaron retorted and resumed walking, fully expecting Warren to follow.

“Well he’s an old guy about Moses age I’m sure. Anyhow, NYPD picked him up last night for causing some kind of disturbance outside the Malcolm Building. He’s got severe hallucinations and it took both cops to get him into a squad care.”

”Pretty strong for a guy Moses’ age,” Aaron commented. “Is that his file?”

“Yeah,” Warren nodded and handed the manila folder over. “We tested him for chemical abuse and the only thing of note was the amount of nicotine in his system. The guy should have lung cancer with how much he’s smoking instead he’s in pretty good shape for someone that old.”

“What about any neurological abnormalities?” Aaron asked.

“Nothing,” Warren shook his head. “No irregularities whatsoever. It’s not the wiring.”

Aaron gave him a look, “that’ a professional opinion ‘doctor’?”

“I mean he has all the symptoms of schizophrenia,” Warren answered a little flustered. Aaron suspected the hours were catching up on him. “But it just doesn’t feel right.”

Aaron studied the file before him and could not deny that there were gaps in their knowledge of the patient that prevented them from making an accurate diagnosis at this point.  The patient had no identification whatsoever, preventing them from retrieving any records regarding previous medical history. Aaron could see why Warren was reluctant to act on his own because this was a case that would require the evaluation of someone far more experienced than a first year psychiatric resident.

“You go on and get some rest,” Aaron answered after a moment. “I’ll go see Moses.  Is he lucid?”

“Yeah,” Warren nodded. “When he calmed down he was pretty lucid but any discussion about where he came from did make him agitated.”

“Enough to be violent?” Aaron stared at him in question.

“I’m not sure,” Warren answered with clear uncertainty.

“Sounds interesting,” Aaron frowned, not really up for this today and sighed with resignation at the fact that he needed a secretary if he ever wanted his paper work done.   “On your way out, get one of the nurses to move Moses into my office. I’ll see him as soon as he’s ready.”

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

A short time later, Aaron found himself staring across the floor at the man designated John Doe.

Warren’s estimation of his age was understandable now that Aaron came face to face with him.  The man was clearly in his late sixties with a long flowing beard and an equally long hair that sometimes appeared white instead of grey.  Even his eyebrows were grey and bushy and seemed to curl outward from his brow.  His blue green eyes seemed a little dazed but this was to be expected since he had been dosed heavily with Thorazine the night before.  Enough time had passed to allow the full brunt of the drug’s effects on the patient to wan a little so Aaron could conduct a somewhat productive first evaluation without fear of Moses/ John Doe becoming violent.

Doctor and patient stared across the space between them for a few minutes as if a mutual evaluation was being undertaken.  Aaron sat in his chair with a note pad in hand, watching the man react to being observed.  He tried to picture this old man causing a disturbance outside the Malcolm building and could not deny being sceptical at the fact that this person would try to harm anyone.  Something deeper than instinct told Aaron that the patient was ill, not dangerous. 

“May I have a glass of water?” The old man spoke first, his voice beginning as a croak but then evolved into clear, and erudite with a trace of accent that could have been English.

“Certainly,” Aaron poured a glass of water from the jug resting on the side table next to his chair before handing the receptacle to his patient.

”I feel uncommonly parched,” John Doe commented before taking the glass and adding his thanks to the end of his statement.

“Thorazine can do that,” Aaron answered in understanding. 

“I do not like the concoctions you put in my veins,” John Doe replied giving him a look after he drained the contents of the glass.

“You were dangerous,” Aaron said not about to apologise for anything.  The best way to gain a patient’s trust was simple honestly He found nothing worked better. No psychiatric buzzwords that made little sense to them or patronizing tones of empathy, just plain sincerity.   “We had to give you something to calm you down.”

“Yes, yes,” the man rumbled impatiently, shifting in his seat, “so they tell me.”

“You don’t remember?” Aaron asked gently taking note of it on the pad.

“No,” he said shortly.

“Do you often have memory problems?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, his lips began to quiver slightly; as if he were nearing a place he did not wish to be.  Aaron made a mental note to pull back to safer ground for the moment.  “The benefit of having memory problems is not remembering that you have a memory problem.”

A small smile cracked Aaron’s lips, “good point.  What do you remember?”

“Walking up in this place,” his gaze shifted away from Aaron’s, as he replied, “nothing more.”

“You don’t know what you did yesterday?”

“No,” the patient said sourly.

Aaron could tell that he was just as unhappy about this as everyone else.  The response sparked a wave of curiosity within the doctor about his patient who was dressed in hospital pyjamas in a blue sterile colour that seemed out of place on the rest of him. There was something about the man that Aaron could not put his finger on, something that convinced the doctor he was not dealing with any run of the mill schizophrenic, if indeed that was what he was.  The patient’s eyes seemed a little glazed but that was more due to the medication he had been given to subdue his violent outburst during admittance.  Deciding he did not want to push the patient in the first session, Aaron decided to move onto a new subject of discussion.

“You weren’t in any condition to give us your name last night,” Aaron remarked. ‘Care to tell us what it is? I don’t really want to be calling you John Doe during our sessions.”

A furrow appeared on those bushy eyebrows and the blue eyes stared at him with hesitation, “I don’t know what I am called.  I told you I don’t remember anything more than what I’ve said.  Is badgering me with foolish questions your way to help me Thorongil?”

Aaron blinked and stared at the man. “Excuse me?”

John Doe looked back at him just as perplexed, “what?”

“You just called me by a name,” Aaron pointed out.

“I did?” The old man regarded Aaron sceptically.

“You called me Thorongil,” the doctor reminded his patient.

“I don’t know why,” Moses met his eyes and Aaron could see the sincerity in his answer, not to mention the genuine puzzlement, “it just slipped out. It felt…appropriate.”

Aaron arched a brow at that statement and made a note of it.  The patient did not seem violent but then he was not about to underestimate the effects of 400 mg of Thorazine on a person either.  He did want to see what the man was like without the medication because at this time, Aaron was finding it difficult to make a diagnosis from this session alone.

“We have to think of something to call you,” Aaron remarked offhandedly. “If we’re going to continue talking to each other, I think I would prefer to call you something other than John Doe.”

“How many of these talks are we likely to have?” John Doe looked at him pointedly, a trace of urgency in his voice.

“I’m not sure,” Aaron confessed. “Until we find out what your name is and why being outside the Malcolm Building upset you so much.”

Suddenly, Aaron noticed his patient tensing visibly in his chair. Relaxed hands were soon clenched into fists, his back straightened and the muscles of his jaw flexed involuntarily.  He was angry and barely able to restrain it, Aaron deduced. 

“You seemed disturbed,” Aaron probed gently, doubtful if he would get an answer that made any sense. “Is there something about the Malcolm Building that upsets you?"

”It is a place of darkness!” John Doe snapped rising to his feet and seemed to tower over the doctor as his voice altered, becoming deeper and more forceful.  It was a voice that made Aaron beware, not for his life but because for a brief insane moment, he was almost ready to believe the old man.

“Sit down,” Aaron said calmly, determined to maintain control of the session. “Please,” he added to make it easier for the man to obey.

He looked at Aaron with a start, as if he suddenly remembered where he was and the burst of anger subsided, once again replaced by confusion.

“Why do you think it’s a place of darkness?” Aaron could not believe he was using such a melodramatic term.  This is the kind of conversation one had when one was describing the plot to the latest George Lucas epic, not a psychiatric session.

“I don’t know,” John Doe replied once more, his expressions strained. “I don’t know anything. I just feel.”

“It’s alright John,” Aaron replied gently, feeling a surge of pity for this old man who was so displaced in the world.  Who was he in the world, when he was far away from this place? Did he have a wife or children, or even grandchildren since his age allowed for the possibility. “You don’t have to tell me until you’re ready.”

“I want to tell you,” he said softly, “I think I need to tell you.  I think I’ve been away for a long time and it’s important that I come back.”

“Admitting you have a problem is always a good step,” Aaron said offering him more assurance then was customary.  However, John appeared to need it. “We’ll find the answers together, I promise you. In the meantime, I hope you don’t mind if I won’t keep calling you John Doe. You’re not a person who doesn’t exists, you’re here and you’re my patient. How does Moses sound to you?”

“Moses?” One bushy eyebrow flew up. “You’re going to name me after a man with a bad sense of direction where mountains are concerned and masonry skills?”

“A bad sense of direction?” Aaron almost laughed.

“It does not take an inordinate amount of sense to discern that he was wandering on that mountain for 40 days because he was lost,” he rumbled, sounding very much like the cantankerous old men who waved canes at young children from their porch. “Certainly not enough to dedicate an entire testament to his affairs.”

“Alright then,” the doctor replied deciding he was not even going to bother arguing with him on this, “you tell me what to call you.”

A loud harrumphed followed before the patient retorted grumpily, “Moses will do.  I suppose under the circumstances I am in no position to take the high ground when it comes to sanity.”

************* 

The ship appeared out of the mists in the middle of the North Sea almost three months before Doctor Aaron Stone was confronted with the patient he had temporarily named Moses.   Its arrival was understandably unnoticed because people tended to avoid travelling through the North Sea during the winter months. It was icy cold on a good day, let alone during winter.  Sheets of ice drifted hazardously above the dark water, pieces of flotsam jettisoned by the artic pole and sure to spell death to any ship unfortunate enough to encounter them.  Icebergs, mists and usually turbulent waters made the North Sea a most inhospitable place, even for those who spent most their lives on the sea.

If anyone had been present, they would have seen a ship not unlike a Roman trireme, with a trio of large white sails as grey as the mists it had just escaped. The ship was made of wood but was the carpentry that crafted it was beyond anything that had been seen anywhere in the world. It was a thing of beauty, crafted not by ship makers but rather the life’s work of an artist.  It moved across the choppy water as if it was gliding upon the waves, trailing a bed of foam as it surged towards its destination.  Amidst the singing voices of humpback whales, the ship did not seem quite real and anyone who saw it would most likely wonder whether or not they were dreaming.

There were only three passengers on the craft that would seem big enough to accommodate more.  Three was all that was needed for this was a journey that they had each thought about making for so long.   The galley was stocked with food and water to reach their destination and back again and thus far, the trip had been without incident.  If anything it had been somewhat dull until they pierced through the veil and stole secretly into the world they had left behind them so long ago.  Once they left it, their trip became a little more exciting as it had been smooth sailing until that point.  Where they had been the sun shone brightly and the water was still.  There was enough breeze to power their sails and keep them cool.  It was idyllic.

Now they were trust into a place where the waves could rise almost as high as their masts, where it was grey and gloomy even though they could see the sun was above their heads.  Winds lashed at the travellers with sheet of rain and the air was charged with the periodic rumble of thunder and lighting. It was a stark reminder indeed of how truly far away from home they had chosen to venture. Those left behind had advised against the journey, calling it foolishness to venture from place of safety into the unknown, undoubtedly grown more barbaric since their departure.

Legolas Greenleaf stood at the bow of his ship and saw nothing ahead but horizon of a grey sea, against an equally grey sky.  The wind was so cold that his pale skin was almost frozen but the notion of leaving the open space for the shelter of the craft’s innards did not occur to him.  It was too long since he felt anything as adverse as weather and he was rather enjoying it.   Valinor’s perfect weather was so constant that he no longer knew how to appreciate it.  A few months of this, he thought, and he would be happy to return home again.

“You should come inside,” a voice advised him.

Looking over his shoulder, Legolas cast his gaze on Elladan who was wrapped in a thick warm cloak and had been good enough to bring him his own.  

“Thank you but I prefer to remain out here for a little longer,” Legolas said gratefully as he took the garment and slung it over his shoulders, before facing front again.

“How long do you think it will take us to cross this sea?” Elladan asked as he sat down on the deck behind Legolas.

“I do not know,” Legolas, answered truthfully, “a hundred millennia can change the shape of the world considerably. We sail what was once the western sea but we do not bear east to Mithlond but farther west then even where Valinor used to be when it still existed in this realm. We are most likely bound for what was once the eastern coast of the Sunlands.”

“Are you sure that is where we must go?” Elladan asked with concerned, aware that more than just their quest fired the passion of the Prince of Mirkwood. 

“It is the only clue we have to begin,” Legolas shrugged, unable to deny that the quest they had set themselves was difficult indeed for the scant information they had and the fact that they had emerged into a world that most likely remembered nothing of their kind. 

“He could be dead,” Elladan pointed out, knowing that this was a volatile subject to discuss with the prince, especially now that they had embarked upon this mission.  However, Elladan and his brother had placed themselves at risk just as Legolas had when they chose to accompany him on this journey.  That earned them both the right to speak their mind as far as Elladan was concerned, the right to make Legolas aware of the reality of the situation as well.

“If he were dead, his soul would have returned to Mandos,” Legolas said tautly. “It has not so he must still live.”

“Legolas,” Elladan said gently, “no one wishes to think the worst but you must prepare yourself for the possibility. Much has changed in this world that we are unaware.  We may find that the reason there has been no word from Mithrandir could well be something has befallen him equal to death.”

“I refuse to believe that,” Legolas said firmly, his eyes staring out into the gloomy horizon.

“You may not wish to but you must at least entertain the possibility,” Elladan insisted.

“I will speak of this to you no more,” Legolas declared, standing up abruptly to leave.

“Legolas,” Elladan stopped him before he could leave with a hand on his shoulder. “People die. It is an unfortunate reality of being what we are. We must accept it.”

Legolas turned to his old friend, his features softening a little because he could not deny that this truth was at the heart of the pain driving him to find Mithrandir. “I have done nothing but accept the fact that the price for immortality is to see all that I love die.  I held Melia’s hand when her life slipped beyond my reach and I sat at Aragorn’s bedside when he passed on.  I thought if Gimli were to journey with me to Valinor it would stave off the inevitable but I was wrong, he too left me in time. I will not be the last member of the Fellowship that still lives, Elladan.  I refuse to be left behind again. Mithrandir is alive and I will find him.”

Elladan could appreciate Legolas’ grief for he too, knew all too well what it was like to care for mortals and be helpless to prevent their eventual demise.  He had loved Aragorn and Gimli as well and Legolas was not the only one who lost someone close to his heart. “I understand your fear to be the last of the Nine Walkers but we have all lost.  Do you think the pain was any less for me when I learnt of Arwen’s passing? There was no reason for her to die but she allowed herself to do so anyway.  Her grief killed her Legolas, it killed her because she could not envision a life without Aragorn.”

Legolas saw the sorrow in Elladan’s eyes and felt his own heartache knowing that the Evenstar was gone from their lives.  So many of her words remained with him, even after so many thousands of years since her passing.  To this day, her family still mourned her passing.  Elrond would light a candle on day her life began as he had done so every year since Legolas had returned to Valinor and told him that his daughter was finally at rest with her king. 

“This does not have to be this way for you Legolas,” Elladan continued. “You have not lost as much as you think.  Melia passed on but we all know that her soul lives within Ariel and Ariel loves you.”

Legolas could not refute that and he did love the elven lady he had married shortly after returning to Valinor.  When he had lost Melia, Legolas had believed it was forever but the souls of humans did not go to Halls of Mandos in death.  Mithrandir had once told him that Eru had a different plan for the race of men and while they were not immortal, as the elves knew it, they did possess it in a way because their souls would always return to lead new lives.  When Legolas had met Ariel for the first time, he knew that Melia had come back to him. It was not the wife he knew and loved but his heart recognised her and since then they were seldom apart.

If he had allowed her, she would have accompanied him on this journey but Legolas was not about to risk her life for anything, especially when what lay beyond Valinor was such a mystery.  However, he could not relinquish the idea that somewhere in the world, Mithrandir was in trouble and needed assistance.  The Valar would send no one else and Legolas suspected they were reluctant to send another in Olorin’s place when they knew not what had became of him.   For four centuries, Legolas had waited patiently for his old friend to return but with the passing of another millennia, he knew it was time to act.  Convincing Elladan and Elrohir to accompany him, Legolas was determined to find Mithrandir almost as much as he was determined not to be the last living member of the Fellowship.

“I know she does,” he turned to Elladan after a moment, “I ache that she is not here with me and I will ache every day that we are apart but this task must be done.”

“I know,” Elladan answered with a nod, admiring the prince of Mirkwood’s determination if not his sheer stubbornness. “I cannot say I understand the bond between you Walkers but I wish to see Mithrandir too if he is alive.”

“It is more than bond,” Legolas met Elladan’s eyes, “it is knowing that in my place, he would do no less for me. If it were I that were lost, Mithrandir would find me.”

Elladan hoped it would be as simple as all that, to simply find Mithrandir and hope that he was alive.  However, as their ship sailed further and further away from the comforting mists that kept them safely anonymous in this new world, Elladan could not help but thinking that it could be impossible to ever find the Istar again.

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

Detective Eve McCaughley stared at the body.

It had been floating in the river for some time now. She could tell by the deterioration of the skin and the location against the embankment that it had been brought here by the currents. It was probably dumped further upstream and had been slowly making its way down the river over the past few days. Rotting leaves and various other materials like twigs and insects had attached itself to the corpse during its journey downstream and upon coming to a halt at the embankment had provided a natural obstacle for the materials that usually floated down river.  It had remained in place until a family of three taking a morning walk through the park through which the river ran, had stumbled across the body.

Eve slipped on the latex glove over her hands as she knelt at the body exactly where it was found. She had ordered the patrolmen to keep the area clean and to keep a distance themselves to maintain the integrity of the crime scene for the forensics team and the medical examiner when they arrived.  Meanwhile, she prepared to make a preliminary exam of her own.  Lifting a small tape recorder to her lips she began speaking.  Eve had fallen into the tradition of making voice notes as she went along.  It helped considerably when it came time to type the report.

“Detective Eve McCaughley – homicide,” she began her narration.  “Victim appears to be a caucasion male, 5 foot seven, 170 pounds, medium built with brown hair and blue eyes. His age appears to be anywhere from between the mid twenties to thirties.  Cause of death appears to be from a gunshot wound to the head.  The manner of the skull damage seemed to indicate that it could have been fired at point blank range.  The bullet entered the bridge of the nose, blowing out the back of the skull.  Ballistics cannot be confirmed at this stage but I’m guessing its a higher calibre gun, possibly a 45.  Victim is fully clothed wearing a suit, losing except one shoe but whether or not this because of the river or during the incident is difficult to say. The one that has remained on his foot is laced.   The suit looks expensive, possibly Armani so I’d say that he was a professional of some sort.”

“Detective McCaughley!” She heard a patrolman calling out to her and immediately turned off the recorder as he approached.  It was standard procedure to send out a few officers to canvass the area, particularly at the embankment of the river since it was possible that items on the body might have become dislodged.

Eve gazed across the green before her, covered in falling leaves and framed by trees along the river.  It was a nice area to go for a walk and the path for visitors ran only a few feet away, giving them a pleasant view of water.  It was the kind of place where you sailed model boats with your kids and had picnics.  It was much too pretty for the macabre discovery at the water’s edge.  The patrolman, an officer named Scavelli, approached her with something inside a zip lock bag.  Judging from the outline of it, Eve guessed Scavelli or one of his officers had found a wallet.

“What have you found Sergeant?” She asked as he approached.

“One of my men found this,” he handed her the bag.

“By the river?” Eve questioned because the contents did not look as if it spent any time in the water. In fact it was in remarkably good condition.

“No,” Scavelli shook his head. “It was found in a garbage bin near one of the paths. It has a New York driver’s license and a Manhattan address.”

Eve did not answer for a moment as she examined the wallet herself and found that there were no credit cards or money.  The only thing that remained inside it had little monetary value, like the driver’s license in question.  She stared at the face on the plastic and knew that the person in the photo and the one who met such an abrupt demise was one and the same.  The face staring back at her was nothing extraordinary; he could have been anyone she saw down the street, a bystander really.

“His name is Robert Falstead,” Eve noted, “lives at 94th Street, Manhattan.”

“I think that’s off Columbus Avenue,” Scavelli nodded in recognition. “Wonder how he ended up as fish food on the other side of the river?”

“I don’t know,” Eve remarked and fell silent for a moment as she thought deeply.  The few pieces of the puzzle were coming together to form an incomplete picture at this stage but something was clear and she was certain the rest of the investigation would prove it.  “This was not a robbery.”

“No?” Scavelli looked at the homicide detective and knew her track record enough to respect her determinations.

Most of the officers knew Lieutenant Eve McCaughley. She was one of the youngest women to make detective and she did so because she had an amazing eye for detail and mind that seemed to be gifted with criminal insight. It also helped that she could hold her own against a perp in hand to hand or with a gun and was not one those detectives who sent patrolmen out to do the hard work while she presided over reports at a desk.    Eve liked getting her hands dirty and she was not squeamish. She was from a family of cops, her father had been one and her brother, who had been killed some years ago, had died a patrolman’s death when he intervened at a liquor store robbery. 

It was hard to picture her as a cop sometimes because she a beautiful woman.  She went to considerable lengths to hide it so that she would be taken seriously, wearing little make up and keeping her long mahogany hair in a braid.  Sapphire coloured eyes were hidden behind steel framed glasses, though she only used them when she was typing reports. Most of the time she looked like some kid that just walked off a college campus for she liked dressing casually and on first impressions, she did not inspire the confidence needed in a detective.  However, she had proven herself over time with her expert handling of cases and those who knew her, was aware of her ability.

“No,” she shook her head. “This was made to look like a robbery but it isn’t.  The victim’s jewellery was removed. He’s married incidentally.  I saw the tan lines on the index finger of his left hand.  There are no credit cards or money in this wallet and this guy looks like an accountant, not the kind to put up a fight if a mugger came up to him.  There’s no reason to shoot him at point blank range through the face no less and dump the body in the river.”

“Then why leave the wallet behind?” Scavelli asked, seeing the sense in what she said though this one point left him at a loss to explain. “I mean if the shooter was doing it for an ulterior motive, why remove it from the body?”

“Just in case we did find the body and didn’t look to the obvious,” she pointed. “You see this wallet? It’s genuine calf leather.  Something like this you buy in Manhattan if you can afford it.  Take it to a hockshop anywhere else and you’ll get a hundred bucks for it, easy.  A mugger wouldn’t leave this behind. He’d dump whatever isn’t valuable to him and keep going.”

“Maybe the mugger ain’t that smart,” Scavelli pointed out.

“Maybe,” Eve said with a little smile, “but I doubt it.”

************ 

It was sheer impulse that made Aaron drive to the Malcolm Building on his way home that evening.

Despite himself, Moses’ case occupied his thoughts for the rest of the day.   For the rest of their session, Aaron had allowed Moses to do the talking and found the man to be surprisingly insightful about his perceptions of the world, what of it he could remember. There were moments when he tried to remember his past that he would become agitated and Aaron was certain that if it was not for the Thorazine, Moses might have become violent.  However, the doctor was starting to wonder if this violence was borne out of a need to hurt or as a result of his own frustrations at not knowing reaching uncontrollable levels.  In any case, Aaron ordered Moses’ transfer to be delayed for a few days. 

Aaron was convinced that some trauma had locked Moses’ memory away from him that he held some terrible knowledge or act in his past that his mind was unable to accept. Unfortunately, there appeared to be no record of the man’s existence anyway thought understandably it was hard to glean information when they did not even have a name to search.   Aaron knew the key to helping Moses was to unlock the reason for this trauma but how he was to discern this was another thing entirely.   Aaron had continued the day following his session with Moses, trying to get his paperwork completed but invariably his mind would return to one point.

Thorongil.

What did that word mean?

As the Malcolm Building loomed overhead, he used the speed dial on his cell phone to contact the only person he knew that might have access to the information. For all he knew it could be a gibberish produced by Moses’ damaged psyche but Aaron was working in the dark and he had to use whatever clue he could find, even if it was as slight as this.  It did not take long before the connection was made following the dial tone and Aaron found himself speaking out loud using the hands free function of his cell phone.

“Hey Stuart, its Aaron,” Aaron announced himself to his friend, the college professor who taught at NYU.

“Hi Aaron,” Stuart returned.  Aaron could hear the clicking of a keyboard in the background and surmised that Stuart Farmer was still in his office at the English Lit department.  

“You still working?” Aaron teased aware that Stuart often spent too much time at work that he forgot to have a life.

“Yeah, not all of us like to waste time driving around in our expensive cars harassing friends who do real work,” Stuart returned dryly.

Aaron grinned inside his car and replied, “we still up for the game on Saturday?”

“I’m bringing the beer,” the crackling voice returned.

“Great,” Aaron nodded looking forward to seeing the game and his old college buddy, “listen, I’ve got a question for you.  You ever heard of a word called Thorongil?”

“Excuse me?” Stuart returned automatically.

“Thorongil,” the doctor repeated rolling his eyes as he turned into the street whose end would see him in front of the Malcolm Building.

“Not off hand,” Stuart confessed, “but I can look it up in my database.  Give me a minute.”

“Thanks,” Aaron replied as he came to a halt at the kerb and put the car into park.

Beyond the windscreen of his car, he could see the towering glass structure that was known officially as the Malcolm Building. Though not as tall as the Empire State Building, it was certainly more imposing and had earned the nickname of the ‘Monolith’.  This was due to the fact that the façade of the building was covered in black glass and built with equally dark marble.  At night when it stood against the dark sky, it almost appeared as if it was a void where the stars could not exist.  As Aaron stared at it, he could not deny that it lookrf somewhat ominous to a mind already fragile with psychosis.  If Moses was already plagued by hallucinations of imposing evil then it was understandable why the Malcolm Building might provoke the fiery outburst that saw Moses brought into the psychiatric ward.

“Aaron?” He heard Stuart’s voice a moment later, snapping his out of his ruminations.

“I’m here,” Aaron replied, still looking at the building.

“There is a record of the word but its extremely obscure,” Stuart replied. “Only someone who was an expert at medieval folklore might have knowledge of it and even then I wouldn’t count on it.”

That made Aaron sit up and pay attention, “what do you mean?”

“Well it’s small reference noted in the field of study regarding the theories about the Arthur legend.”

“The Arthur legend?” Aaron exclaimed undeniably astonished, “as in the knights of the round table, that Arthur?”

“Yeah,” Stuart’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “That Arthur.”

“Okay,” Aaron eased back into the car seat looking rather perplexed. “What’s the reference?

“Well according to popular theory, the Arthur legends are meant to be a composite of stories, not about one individual.  Before Mallory made it into what it was, there were these legends floating around the place and one of them apparently had to do with  someone named Thorongil who was a king that started out as something else, hiding his identity until he was needed, that sort of thing.  It’s believed that this element of Thorongil’s story was incorporated into the Arthur legend.”

“So Moses is some kind of medieval history professor…” Aaron mused.

“Who?”

“This patient I have,” Aaron replied deciding that Stuart deserved an explanation though he was not at liberty to discuss too much about Moses’ condition.  “He’s a John Doe with no identification whatsoever. He sounds like he could be English but I can’t be sure of that. I think he’s suffering from severe amnesia brought on by a traumatic event and while we were in session, he called me Thorongil.”

“So you think he might be an expert in medieval folklore?”

”That’s the best lead I have. So this Thorongil legend is being studied somewhere?”

“No,” Stuart shook his head. “What I told you is all there is to know about it. I’m not kidding Aaron; this is an extremely remote reference. There isn’t even a record of where it might have originated.  Your man would have to be an expert in obscure legends to have even heard of it.  Unless he knew the guy himself,” Stuart chuckled.

“You’re a real comedian Stuart,” Aaron retorted with a disappointed sigh.  He had hoped there would be more but at least Stuart had given him somewhere to begin in searching for his patient’s identity.

Without knowing why, Aaron was certain that finding out the truth about Moses was the key to understanding everything.

************ 

The man stood by the glass and watched the world below him with a little smile of satisfaction.

Even though the building was not the tallest in the city, it was sufficient to provide him with a panoramic view of New York. Personally he thought it lost a little without the familiar sight of the two towers but so much in mortal existence was fleeting.  Buildings like humans being had little staying power.   When he had first ordered the construction of his own, he wanted to build something that had presence without needing to be aesthetically pleasing.  The architects seemed to think that buildings should be high but he preferred to remain grounded, as far as he was concerned, the heavens were extremely overrated.

While the building was tall enough for him to enjoy this view, he had happier at its dark façade then he was at its height. Within the walls of the building he knew was called the ‘Monolith’ after the alien object in the Kubrick film, John Malcolm Iran his corporation like a god ruling his empire. The Monolith was the centre of his kingdom and from here he kept watch over everything.  Leaving behind the view of New York by twilight, Malcolm returned to his desk.  He lived in the penthouse suite attached to this room, below the swimming pool and gardens that took up the space on the roof.

Fortune 500 had called him one of the most powerful men in the world but the appellations did not concern him. Power was subjective and he knew perfectly well how much of it he had, which was to say quite a great deal.  It was not the kind of power possessed by any of the men in Fortune 500 hundred though Malcolm was certain they dreamed of it.  The tendrils of his power reached not merely the boardroom but in realms that most would never even dream.  Man’s potential was limitless and Malcolm spent his entire existence on this earth exploiting that boundless potential.

Most of the time they did not know he was behind the scenes, working things with the expertise of a puppet master. Secrecy was something Malcolm did well and he had prided himself in how far his influence extended.   His agents were far and wide and they were worked for him with unswerving loyalty because they knew the price of failure. However, they were also well rewarded for their efforts and because of this, his reach extended into the highest echelons of power.  There were heads of state that would be grateful for his attentions.

Of course the public knew nothing of this and that was exactly how Malcolm preferred it.

Malcolm knew who was at his office before the door opened.  He and lowered himself into leather chair before the marble desk.  He liked the cool of the dark stone and endeavoured to furnish his office with as much of it as possible.  The office had a stygian feel about it with smooth dark surfaces and had a Spartan air by the lack of personal items.  Malcolm had as much use for these as he did people, which was to say very little.  They served and then they died. It was all so simple. Why complicate things by developing unnecessary attachments to them?

“Sandra,” John greeted when the woman walked in.   “I don’t remember sending for you.”

“I am sorry Mr Malcolm,” the woman who was his personal aide and confidant apologised in her dark suit with the high collar.  In her youth, she had been a stunning woman with flaxen gold hair, now worn in a bun and the glimmer of emerald fire in her eyes had lost its lustre as the world took its toll upon her.  At the age of fifty, Sandra Collins was still a handsome woman but it was clear that she could no longer trade on her looks to get by as she once had.  “However, I did not think this could wait.”

“I am intrigued,” Malcolm, gestured her forward. 

She had sense enough to pause before coming any closer, aware that permission was required beforehand.  She had to wait for the Emperor granted her an audience. Sandra had been holding a manila folder under her arm when she entered the room.  However, upon being asked to approach, she reached into it to remove the appropriate intelligence it contained. 

“This was caught on security cameras last night,” she replied placing the photographs on the desk before him.

The pictures were grainy but held enough definition for him to be able to make out what had caused her such concern.

“He isn’t dead,” she pointed out. “He’s alive and he was outside the building last night.”

“Indeed,” Malcolm nodded, feeling less anxiety than she did. “I did not expect him to be dead Sandra. I knew he was alive somewhere but he’s hardly in any position to be a threat to me.”

“I think we should resolve this matter once and for all,” Sandra stared at him.  “We have people working for us that could make it look like an accident.  He was taken to a psychiatric ward after the NYPD picked him up.  It would be a simple matter to just…”

“I have told you once and I will tell you again,” Malcolm rose to his feet and glared at her. His voice sent icicles of fear through her skin and for an instant, she saw everything that was vile and unholy surface in his eyes  “He is not to be killed under any circumstances.   The minute his blood is spilled will be closely followed by your own. Do you understand?”

Sandra felt herself shudder at the blackness of his eyes and nodded quickly, “yes sir.”

“Good,” Malcolm lowered himself back into his chair. “What you will do is find out who in that hospital has the power to commit my old friend to a nice little asylum where he can be forgotten for another four hundred years and that will be the extent of action on this matter, is that clear?”

“Yes Sir,” Sandra nodded. “What if they won’t do it?”

Malcolm blinked as if she had asked him something ludicrous, “they’ll do it if they want to live.”

Chapter Two
Many Meetings 

Aaron had not slept well the night before.

When he arrived at the hospital the next morning, he was more than a little irritable and bleary eyed, leading him to question himself on whether or not he was in any fit state to see a patient. If it had been any patient but Moses, Aaron would have been inclined to cancel his appointments for the day.  However, it was Moses and for reasons that made utterly no sense, he really did want to speak to the old man again. The conversation with Stuart lingered heavily in his mind and he wondered how would an obviously highly educated Medieval professor like Moses end up in the state he was in when the NYPD picked him up.

What could have happened to a man his age to create such a wall of defence against the truth?

Unfortunately, a good many things could have happened. Amnesia was a symptom of terrible trauma in a person’s past, an incident to morally and physically repulsive that the only way the mind could cope with it was to block it out entirely. It was particularly common in child abuse cases, especially the ones where the victims repressed the memory when they grow into adulthood.  The usual recourse in those instances was to use hypno therapy, to draw the truth their minds in the dream state.

Aaron knew that if Moses’ therapy did not improve he would have to resort to such methods.  It would be a still last ditch effort of course since other he had yet to explore other avenues of treatment.  For the first time since he had been a psychiatrist at the hospital, Aaron wanted to follow this patient’s progress all the way to its end.  Usually the extent of his involvement was to conduct an evaluation where he would diagnose the patient’s problem before recommending transfer to another facility or to another doctor who could provide more in depth treatment for the specific malady.

It was not unusual for Aaron to allow his feelings to cloud his judgement and though it was a practise generally discourages by most of the medical profession, Aaron felt it was necessary to his being a better doctor.  How could he help a patient if he could not even empathise with him on some level? Yet it was more than that with Moses. Aaron wanted to help the man, in fact he felt rather compelled to do everything in his power to draw Moses from the mental limbo the old man found himself trapped.  The night before had seen him plagued with odd dreams he could not remember but was almost certain Moses was apart.

When he had left the night before he had ordered Moses’ dosage of Thorazine reduced so that he could tell first hand what kind of symptoms the old man was suffering.  He had been left in one of the evaluation rooms where his behaviour could be closely monitored during the night.  Before his session with Moses began, Aaron watched the tapes and observed that without the medication, Moses began hallucinating, carrying on conversations in a language he could not identify, that could have been Eastern European for all he knew with person or persons only he could see.  The words were hard to discern because the language was unknown to her but it was apparent that Moses was suffering a range of emotions from agitation to outright fear.

When he became too violent for his own good, the doctor on duty sensibly prescribed the medication once more since enough had been recorded for Aaron to make his evaluation.  Aaron took a copy of the tape in the hopes of determining what language Moses was speaking in, if at all it was a language.  Some schizophrenics could develop a language of their own that sounded like gibberish to everyone else.  Gibberish or not, the content of the conversation seemed to upset Moses considerably, even if to Aaron’s ears it sounded somewhat one sided.

 “You appear as if you need more sleep than I,” Moses remarked, raising a bushy brow in accusation as they sat across each other once again when the session was finally underway.

Aaron rubbed the grainy feeling out of his eyes and regarded Moses once more, “probably.  I had a strange night.”

“Really?” Moses eased back into his seat. “Perhaps we ought to be changing places,” he remarked with a hint of teasing.

“I like the view from here,” Aaron replied. “How are you feeling today?”

“These potions you have been filling my veins allow me little recourse but to feel sluggish and complacent. I do not like how they feel.”

“I am sorry about that,” the doctor retorted automatically, “however, you’re not exactly on your best behaviour without them.”

“Did you ever think that without them I might think more clearly?” Moses pointed out.

“I think we need to know why you can’t remember anything first before I start gambling on what you will and won’t do,” Aaron said pointedly.  “I don’t really want to keep you in a straight jacket to keep you from hurting yourself or anyone else.”

Moses frowned, a loud huffing noise that was only common to ornery old people who thought that the price of everything was too high and young people in general should stop playing loud music and get hair cuts.  “You do make a convincing argument though I remember little of what happened the night before,” Moses said unhappily.

“What do you remember?” Aaron leaned forward, asking.

“Fear,” Moses replied shortly. “I remember fear, feeling it in my throat and lungs, as if it was something I had fallen into and could not escape.  It was very unpleasant.”

”I imagine it would be,” Aaron replied, trying to sound sympathetic. “You seemed to have conversations with people we couldn’t see. Do you remember anything about that?”

Moses fell silent for a moment, gazing at Aaron with a strange sort of look.  For a moment, Aaron actually thought that the old man might have remembered something but the blank mask fell over his face again and he shook his head, “nothing. I remember nothing except that I feel these people.  There are times when they are close enough to grasp in my mind but it slips away.” He looked up at Aaron and declared, “I am too old to be this forgetful.  When one reaches this age, what else is there but the memories? If I do not have those then it is better to be dead.”

His eyes clouded with emotion and Aaron knew Moses was at the limits of his emotional restraint.  He was right, a man Moses age should at least be left the memories of a life lived so long.  It did not seem fair and Aaron wanted badly to regain that much for him, if nothing else.  “We’ll find them Moses, I promise you that.  It won’t be easy and it won’t be overnight but we will find out what happened to your life.”

Moses regarded his words and smiled at the sincere honesty in his claim and offered softly, “I am strangely encouraged by that claim.”

“You should be,” Aaron grinned, sitting back in his chair. “I don’t make it often.”

“So now what do we do?” Moses replied, the moment passing to something a little less emotional, which suited both doctor and patient well.

We’ll continue with the therapy,” Aaron replied, “but for the moment, I found out what Thorongil means.”

“Thorongil?” Moses stared at him as if he had forgotten the strange name that he called Aaron during their first session.

“Yes you called me that remember?” Aaron gave him a look before continuing, wondering why Moses suddenly sounded uncomfortable about uttering that word.

“I am not about to argue you with my doctor,” Moses deadpanned with a hint of sarcasm. “Please, I bid you to continue since you are obviously bursting with enthusiasm to tell me what you have learnt.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Aaron answered with similar sentiment. “It appears that Thorongil was the name of a king in some obscure myth connected to the Arthur legends. It’s believed that it was the origin for Arthur’s own history. There’s almost no information available about the character other than this and what has been recorded was handed down from myths that predate the dark ages. It’s not the kind of thing that one would know unless you were into medieval folklore at an academic level. I think you might have been some kind of history expert in this field.”

“Arthur was nothing but a mere warlord,” Moses declared crustily, “one who broke the cardinal rule when possessing a beautiful wife.”

“Like what?” Aaron stared at him.

“Never leave your beautiful wife in the company of an equally beautiful best friend,” Moses said with a smile, “invariably it will always end badly.”

“I won’t argue with you there,” Aaron chuckled, finding Moses’ view of historical figures very amusing if somewhat cynical. “What about you Moses, do you think you have a wife waiting for you somewhere?”

“No,” he replied with surprising firmness.

“You sound pretty certain about that,” the doctor pointed out. “You can’t remember what you did a week ago, you shouldn’t discount the possibility.”

“I do not have a wife,” Moses repeated himself with more than a set to his jaw. “I am sure of this if nothing else.”

Aaron took note of that.  Obviously he remembered some things even if he did not wish to speak of them.  It could be just an intuition but it gave Aaron hope enough to believe that Moses’ past was not as shut off from the rest of his mind as they had previously believed.

“May I ask you something Doctor Stone?” Moses spoke up suddenly, interrupting Aaron’s note taking.

“Sure, go ahead,” Aaron replied, still fixated on his observations of the session. 

“I notice that the other patients who came in at the same time as I have since been transferred elsewhere,” the old man looked at Aaron with deep scrutiny. “I heard one of the nurses talking.  Apparently, I should have been moved to another location but I still remain here, undiagnosed. Is that normal?”

Aaron raised his eyes to the patient and lowered his pencil, “no, it isn’t. I suppose I could make a quick evaluation and send you on your way but I’m almost certain that deeming you’re a schizophrenic or someone with bipolar disorder is incorrect. You have suffered some kind of trauma and your symptoms are a direct relation to that event, whatever it is.  I believe if I can find out what event it was that forced you to block out those memories, you’ll be on the road to recovery.  If I have to, I’ll keep you here as a patient exclusively under my care.”

“Am I to be your pet project then?” Moses asked but there was no trace of hostility in his voice, merely amusement.

”Something like that,” Aaron replied, “its what I get for being a bachelor with no family to take up my time. It just means I get to occupy myself with the really peculiar patients.”

Aaron knew he was becoming too personal with this patient even though he had only seen the man twice. However, something about Moses struck a chord in him, something familiar he could not explain and until he understood why this empathy to a near complete stranger had suddenly developed, he would keep Moses close at hand.  An intuition he could not explain any more than the rest of it told him that there was more going on that he could possibly imagine.

Or wanted to imagine.

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

Eve needed a drink.

She did not indulge often and certainly not whilst on duty but she had just delivered the news to a pregnant wife that her husband was fished out of a river, murdered.  Something like was more than enough to penetrate even Eve’s well-maintained mask of professional indifference.   Standing at the bar from the corner of the new widow’s home,  Eve’s hands were trembling a little as she raised the mug of beer to her lips.  The other officers who had accompanied her on this duty had gone on their way after Eve feigned some excuse to get away from them so that she could take a few minutes to compose herself.

As the lead officer in the investigation, it had been her duty to stand before Mrs. Falstaff and explain to the woman that her husband was dead and then have to launch into the unfortunate circumstance of how that end had come to pass.  Sometimes Eve hated her ability to notice everything because she surely did not need to notice Mrs. Falstaff face shifting from denial, to horror and finally to grief in a flash of an instant. Eve knew she would be hearing the woman’s tears for quite some time.  It was not the first time Eve had been required to perform such a task and it certainly would not be the last but she could not detach herself from their pain when she understood it all to well.

Eve had lost her brother n the line of duty and knew the price that came with the badge. However, that did not prevent her from missing him dearly because the badge did not make the pain any less, just tolerable.  She took a few greedy gulps of beer and felt it settle into her stomach, taking the edge of her mental state.  She barely drained half the mug before pushing it away.  She was still on duty and now that the unpleasant task of informing the wife was over, it was now time to talk to Falstaff’s employer, the famous John Malcolm.

Like every other person in the city, Eve knew who John Malcolm was. 

Although reclusive, Malcolm was undoubtedly one of New York’s elite, not simply because he was one of the richest men in the world but also because he was the sole heir of America’s most elusive dynasties. The Malcolms were fiercely private, having learnt from the experiences of the Kennedy’s that being known or treated like royalty was not always such a good thing.  Since their arrival in New York from Europe following the Civil War in the 1860’s, the family had built itself an impressive business empire because it seemed to escape the dynastic trait of one generation being lesser than the other.  All the Malcolm’s born were strong and capable of taking the family fortune to the next level with their business acumen.  The latest Malcolm was no different.

After leaving the bar in a more composed state then when she had entered it, Eve slipped into her car and drove into town.  It took her almost an hour to weave through the traffic to find herself at the imposing structure that was the Malcolm building.  Although she had seen it in the distance on almost a daily basis, it was the first time she had stepped onto the actual premises itself.  Staring at the building for a few minutes she could understand, now more than ever why it was called the Monolith.   A cold shudder, she could not explain, suddenly ran through her as she took in the sight of the imposing building.  For an absurd moment, Eve found herself thinking it looked almost sinister, if not evil.

It made no sense but as she entered the main entrance of the building and identified herself to the front desk manned by security guards, she could not shake the feeling of uneasiness.  As Eve had made her appointment with Malcolm almost as soon as she had learnt that Falstaff was working for him, there was no reason for her to wait and Eve was promptly allowed to go on her way.  Upon stepping into the lift that would take her to penultimate floor where Malcolm’s office was known to be, Eve felt her inside hollowing with dread.

What was happening to her? Suddenly it felt as if there was not enough space around her and the need to start pounding at the doors to get out became damn near overwhelming.  Something was wrong. She could feel it in every fibre of her being but it made no sense. The sensation was so unpleasant that Eve was almost on the urge of being physically ill.  She could feel its cold tendrils wrapping itself around her spine when the doors slide open after a gradual slowing.  Eve almost bolted past the doors to get out and for a few seconds after the lift had closed and went on its way, she stood in the narrow corridor leading to Malcolm’s office and composed her.

Her hands were shaking and this time it was not from delivering some unpleasant news to a widow, it was because for that brief time inside that lift car, she had felt genuine terror. She could not understand why she would feel that way. She was a cop for God’s sake!  She had been in life threatening situations before and none of it had caused the level of anxiety she felt during those few minutes she spent inside that lift.  Eve steadied her racing pulse, trying to crush the unsteadiness she felt because now was not the time for such weaknesses.  John Malcolm was waiting and Eve was determined to get her answers.

Entering the small door at the end of the corridor, she found herself in what appeared to the workspace of John Malcolm’s secretary.  The décor of the room was in vibrant reds and the colour seemed to be tasteful thought it could have been easily garish. There was a huge set of doors behind the woman’s desk and Eve assumed that led to John Malcolm’s office.  The rest of the walls were coloured in shades of red earth surrounded the black marble floor and with the cherry wood furniture, the woman seated behind the desk seemed almost as vibrant as the room.  She was a stunning red headed beauty, impeccably dressed in a suit and Eve wondered rather snidely, whether she was an actual secretary or a playmate.  Her image certainly did not promote the belief that her best talents were typing.

“Can I help you?” The woman said smoothly with a clearly Bostonian accent.

“I’m Detective Eve McCaughley,” Eve produced her badge.  “I believe Mr. Malcolm is expecting me?”

The woman’s gaze swept over her and Eve had the distinct impression that she was being scrutinized deeply.  “This way please,” the secretary remarked as she led Eve to the doors.

Eve followed her closely, taking time to observe her surroundings and could not help feeling that there was something very wrong with this place.  Still she was grateful that the sensation assailing her in the lift was gone for the moment.  She wanted to be in full control of her faculties when she finally met Mr. Malcolm.

He was waiting for her on the sofa suite he had in his office, having ready himself for the meeting the instant it had been announced that she would be coming. Eve thought as she was introduced to the man. Her first impressions were that the magazine pictures did not do John Malcolm justice. He looked spectacularly good for a man in his late forties and Eve could just imagine society debutante’s jockeying for position to claim this most eligible bachelor.  Physical appearances aside, Eve could feel the man’s presence even in something as innocents as an introduction but once again her instincts told her almost immediately that she could not trust him.

“I checked up on you, you know Detective McCaughley,” Malcolm said with a smile after they were settled and Eve was furnished with a glass of water provided by the departed Ms. Carmichael, Malcolm’s secretary.

“Understandable,” Eve replied. “I would be surprised if a man in your position, didn’t.”

He raised a brow, seeming very impressed by that statement, “I am glad that we understand each other on this level.”

“I understand that it is necessary for a man in your position to check my credentials and the validity of intention to see you.  However, I hope you understand that I have questions for you that are not meant to be invasive, just necessary for the investigation,” Eve replied just as politely before she turned on a tape recorder.

“I appreciate your candour detective,” Malcolm answered unperturbed by the recording device. “Naturally I am very sorry to hear what happened to Richard.  He was my senior accountant for over three years, and was very reliable and ordered. Just the kind of person you would depend on to manage your finances.”

Eve absorbed his words for a moment before asking again, “when was the last time you saw Mr. Falstaff?”

“I think it was five days ago,” Malcolm responded. “You must understand that Richard worked downstairs and unless he had a problem with our finances or some matter that needed to be discussed with me, I would not have seen him.”

“Fair enough,” Eve nodded in understanding.  Malcolm was the CEO of a conglomerate and it was perfectly reasonable that he would not have frequent contact with his employees, especially since he ruled his kingdom from these lofty heights.  “Is there someone I can talk to about finding out when was the last time he was seen at work?”

“As a matter of fact, I took the liberty of gathering that information for you,” Malcolm replied, handing her a folder that had been splayed before them on the coffee table.  “You will have all the details of who was the last to see Richard, what time he was seen departing the office, even access with the building’s security tapes if you like.”

“Thank you very much,” Eve said graciously but she did not like the fact that he was feeding her all this information.  She would have preferred to interview these people before someone else had reached them and quite possibly coached them into conforming their statements to what was in these nicely typed pages.

“You are of course free to talk to anyone of them,” Malcolm continued speaking. “Trust me Detective, I want to find Richard’s killer.”

I’m sure you do, Eve thought sceptically.  She knew she was being cynical, that it was entirely possible that Malcolm was just trying to be helpful but instinct told her that he was hiding something.  Unfortunately, she had no way of proving it without further investigation and Eve had a feeling that Malcolm was a man who knew how to keep secrets.

“I would like to see Mr. Falstaff’s office?” Eve asked instead.

“Certainly,” he replied just as amicably, “however, I thought that this was just a mugging.”

Eve’s mask of calm held as she answered, “it was made to look like a mugging but it’s clearly an execution style murder.  He was shot in the face at point blank rage.  His jewellery was taken and his wallet stolen to ensure that we’d think it was a robbery.  Mr. Falstaff did not appear to be the kind of man who would give a mugger much difficulty and a mugger would not have taken the time to drag the body to the river. His first instinct would have been to run.  Mr. Falstaff was dumped in the river to destroy any physical evidence we may find. It was premeditated and according to someone’s agenda so if you please, I’d like to see his office.  It may have a clue as to a motive.”

She had hoped her words would have rattled him a little but Malcolm seemed to take what she said with understanding, “I must say Detective McCaughley, I am impressed. No doubt with you on the case, it will be only a matter of time before Richard’s murderer will be found.”

”It is my job to notice the details,” Eve replied, not at all swayed by his compliments because there were criminals who thought stroking a cop’s ego could deflect suspicion from himself or herself and Eve was used to those too.

Eve gave Malcolm a polite show of thanks before Ms Carmichael showed her out of the office and pointed her in the direction of the names on the list Malcolm had given them.  Although it as more or less a foregone conclusion that she would find nothing more than what was in their typed statements, Eve felt compelled to try nonetheless.   She even braved using the lift again and while the sensation was not so thick this time, she could not help experiencing the same feelings of dread once again.  Eve did not know what was wrong with her and was starting to think she might be developing latent symptoms of claustrophobia when she realised that the feeling had only climaxed inside the lift. 

It had started when she was staring at the building from the outside.

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

This journey was becoming more than anything they had imagined.

Whilst they remained on the familiar territory of the western sea, they had felt relatively in control of their circumstances, However, they began to see more and more things that were beyond their comprehension as they slipped further from the reach of Valinor and the familiar mists they had crossed to emerge into the world.  As they sailed further and further from the cold seas where the water was warmer and the waves less turbulent, they began to see other sailing vessels.  Caution forced them to keep their distance but the encounters indicated that the race of men had clearly evolved from the time of the elves departure from Middle earth.  Whether or not this evolution was good or bad, was still a matter of debate.

At first they could not conceive of the thing being a sailing vessel for it had no mast to speak of and it was made of iron.  The size of it was enormous beyond belief.  Legolas did not think that they were cities as large as the craft that lumbered through waves, somehow managing to remain above the water instead of sinking as something that size should.  It moved by means a mechanical keel at the rear, thrashing rapids of foam behind it as it journeyed westward.  In comparison, the craft they occupied was practically dwarfish and it was wise to keep a distance from it because it could easily crush them without being aware of it.   There was something about its construction, all that dark iron that inspired in the elves the dark memories of Angband and Melkor’s Iron fortress.

However, the steel beast made no effort to accost them, merely continuing through the ocean, oblivious to the vessel whose awe it had captured for a time.  It was certainly not the first of these vessels that the elves would see as they continued their journey and as they came closer to their destination, they saw the frequency of such crafts increasing in number.  Not all of them were like the steel behemoth they had seen but their construction was mostly steel which confused the elves.  It seemed like such a heavy material to construct a sea going vessel with.  Wood was so much lighter and simpler for that matter.  However, very little about the race of men was simple, even in the days of Middle earth.

Sometimes, they heard noises in the sky and they would see what appeared to be a mighty winged bird soaring through the clouds, though its construct was once again of steel.  The elves began to wonder what was this worship of iron that inspired men to create everything from it.  The sound of it moving through the air was like a low rumble of thunder and the speed in which it crossed the sky would have put even the great eagles to shame. Legolas doubted that even Thorondor could match the swiftness of the iron denizen moving above them. While some of these things were to be marvelled at, others concerned Legolas greatly.  It was clear the world of men had changed far beyond anything they had ever conceivably dreamed. 

His suspicion was well founded it seemed because no sooner than they caught sight of land in the far distance, they were approached by a vessel of similar size on a bearing of intercept. Legolas would have preferred not to engage anyone until they had found Mithrandir but the vessel gave them no choice. It too was crafted of iron and it was capable of sinking them with ease it chose to ram them. As it approached, a voice materialized out of thin air, speaking a language that none of them could understand.  Legolas had believed that they would be able to converse with the race of men in Westernese at least but the language spoken had none of the finesse of Gondor or any of the kingdoms Legolas had known of Middle earth.

“They mean to board us,” Elladan had declared as the craft closed the distance between us.

“I do not wish to place my fate in the hands of men at this time,” Elrohir declared hotly.  “We have no idea what has happened to them since our departure.”

“I do not think we have a choice in this matter. They appear to be coming aboard, whether or not we give them our consent. Quickly, cover your ears, they do not need know that we are not one of them,” Legolas declared grimly as he stared across the bow at the fast approaching vessel.  Adjusting their hair somewhat, they effectively disguised their ears before they were boarded.

“You do not mean for us to go with them, surely?” Elrohir stared at him once they were ready.

“I think perhaps we should see what their intentions are before we assume the worst.  A great deal has changed since our departure. We know nothing of men or their ways.  Perhaps it is best that we adhere to their ministrations for the time being.”

“They are using sorcery,” Elrohir reminded them. “A voice spoke to us out of nothingness!”

“I have seen steel birds that fly, ships as large as cities that could not possibly float in the past few days.  I do not know how much of it is science and how much of it is invention.  From my association with Gimli, I can tell you that dwarfs could build devices that were truly amazing.  We have been away for almost a hundred millennia, what we perceive as sorcery could simply be their more elaborate creations,” Legolas offered. His reasoning was based on the lack of danger he sensed from the approaching craft.  If they were creatures of darkness meaning to harm Legolas and his companions, the elves would have surely felt it by now. As it stood, they did not feel anything sinister from the approaching humans, just a need to be cautious.

“I must agree with Legolas brother,” Elladan weighed in.  “We should see what they wish of us before we act.  For all we know, we may have simply wandered into their territory without permission.”

“True,” Legolas had not thought of that.

Thranduil had almost been fanatical about ensuring that Eryn Lasgalen was free of trespassers before the days of Sauron’s destruction.  With Dol Guldur sitting at the edge of Mirkwood, such measures had been necessary to protect his people.  Legolas did not know any kingdom that did not protect its borders in some way. Perhaps that was what was transpiring here.  If so, then Legolas hoped a simple request to travel the Sunlands was all that was necessary because despite his efforts to be reasonable, the Prince of Mirkwood was allowing nothing to stop him from finding Mithrandir.

The vessel eventually came to a halt of their bow and Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir had a closer view of the vessel. Though it was fast descending into evening, the ship was adorned with a myriad of lights of that did not appear to be generated by flame.  It reminded of the light that Mithrandir was able to cast from his staff during their travels in Moria.  Once again, that strange voice spoke to them and its intensity indicated to Legolas that it was a warning.  The elves were unable to answer and decided that the best course of action was to try and respond, hoping that perhaps (though highly unlikely) that someone on board may be able to understand elvish.

While it did not appear that the new arrivals understood a word they said, the fact that Legolas had spoken in a language they did not understand seemed to diffuse the situation slightly.  The humans boarded wearing their strange clothes and carrying oddly shaped pieces of metal at their hip, where swords should have been worn.  They overtook the elven ship like a swarm of locust, examining every corner of the craft and grew more confused at every discovery made. 

“I do not like those things they are pointing at us,” Elrohir replied as a number of the humans surrounded them, pointing the strange metal objects in their direction.

“Is that a weapon?” Elladan asked, noticing their speech was raising more brows from their captors.

“I would say that it is,” Legolas remarked, more curious by them then he was actually afraid.  “Notice they are all from  different races of men?”

“Yes,” Elrohir nodded. “These are of Westernese, Haradirim and Sunlands.  Perhaps they have finally matured enough to unite into one people.”

“Or one has conquered the others,” Elladan pointed out.

“They have women among them,” Legolas pointed out, noticing that one of the searchers ransacking their ship was female.   “If this is a combat vessel, why do they have women on board?”

It was a question no one could answer through lack of knowledge or of language.  The searchers continued working for another hour or so before the leader among attempted to communicate.  The man was tall and reminded Legolas a little of Boromir. Certainly, he had the man of Gondor’s gruff manner.   He was by the look of him an experienced man of the sea for his hands and his sun-dried skin bore the marks of an experienced mariner.

He tried speaking to them for a few minutes but the language was so foreign to anything that Legolas knew, his words sounded like gibberish. Legolas who was one of the last to leave Middle earth felt somewhat ludicrous because he should have been able to understand the man on some level. However, a hundred thousand years had ensured that any means of communication between the elves and their human captors was impossible.  When it was clear that no headway was going to be made in understanding each other, the leader ordered them off their craft into the his own.

 They went without incident, taking note that their ship was being towed instead of being destroyed, as they had feared.  The inside of the human craft was an odd construct of steel, wood and other materials that Legoals could not identify.  They were locked in a room shortly after boarding and if it were a dungeon then it was the cleanest one they had ever seen.  While they were concerned at their situation, they were still fascinated by the strange objects that filled their prison.  In particular a receptacle whose only purpose could have been sanitary and how efficiently the device worked, not to mention a twist of the handle could produce fresh, clean water into a ceramic basin.  The water was unlike that drawn from rivers without silt, sediment and clear as if drawn from the cleanest pool in Valinor. As Legolas tried some of it, he could tell immediately that it was treated with something but not poisonous. 

“What is that?” Legolas asked when he emerged from the cubicle and saw Elladan staring at a strange box with a glass face.

“I do not know,” Elladan replied, running his hands over the dark finish.  “I can see no purpose for it.”

“What are those things on the front?” Elrohir asked as he sat on the bed, wanting to be anywhere but indoors.  The elf had taken to staring longingly at the sea and sky beyond it.

Elladan ran his fingers experimentally over the largest one and pushed. The sudden sound it made, not to mention the image that suddenly appeared on the glass sent all three elves retreating backward, startled.

“Palantir!” Elrohir declared as the three elves stared mesmerized at the image appearing before them. 

“That is not a seeing stone,” Legolas replied. “I have seen them and I know they do not look like that.”

“Whare are we seeing?” Elladan asked as they watched the moving pictures before them.  A shapely young woman was running across a shore, wearing almost nothing.  The image of her seemed to be moving slowly, allowing them to be afforded a very aspect of her body’s movement as she leapt into the ocean.

“That is not decent,” Elrohir declared. “She was almost naked!”

“I knew men had a capacity for decadence but this is debauched,” Elladan remarked as the woman swam through the water, the pictures showing her progress from beneath the waves. 

”And yet you two have not moved your eyes away from her,” Legolas offered with a smug smile.

“Is this sorcery Legolas?” Elladan asked after a moment.  “I know of only seeing stones that can produce visions like this.”

“It could be,” Legolas hesitated to respond.   “Yet they have treated us with surprising courtesy even if they have taken our ship.  I do not know what to make of them or their intentions.”

“Legolas we cannot remain in their custody,” Elrohir said seriously. “As well as they have treated us so far, we do not know their intentions.”

“I agree,” Legolas nodded after a moment. “I think we should wait until darkness before we make our bid to escape.  I would prefer to do it when we are close enough to port so they cannot pursue us into shallow water.  We will need to go to our own vessel to retrieve our weapons and the gold we need to trade.”

“Are we even certain that they still use gold?” Elladan said dubiously as he cast his gaze over the room.  “They seemed to have a preference for iron.”

“We have to take the chance that gold is not out of fashion. In any case, we do not have a choice, its all we have,” Legoals sighed.

Their escape was relatively simple because their captors had no idea what they were about and were unable to ascertain the level of danger they posed.  When the craft neared the shoreline in the dead of night, a ruse of shouts had brought one of their guards into their makeshift prison to investigate.  After that it was a simple matter of elven skill and agility to overpower him and make their way to their own vessel.  It would not take long for the humans to discover their departure for their escape plan was not elaborate enough to prevent that.  Stealing onto the grey ship following their escape, the elves retrieved what they needed and then paddled to the shore with a canoe. 

They were almost to the shore when their escape was discovered and by the time the humans had mobilised enough to follow them in pursuit, they were able to lose themselves in darkness and the trees that waited them beyond the shore.  Even in this strange world, the forest were the same and they were each experienced woodsmen who knew how to lose conceal themselves when the need took them. In the dead of night, they were able to cover much ground, following the stars that they had been instructed to lead them to Mithrandir.

“The air smells foul,” Elladan remarked as they made their way through the dark woods.

“It reminds me of the scent of Mordor,” Legolas remembered how the air had smelled when they had stood at the Black Gates during the last days in the War of the Ring.  It was heavy with ash and other things that he could not identify.  While this was nowhere as bad, it did not smell like fresh air and deepened Legolas’ concern at what other changes had taken place in the world of men since their departure.  

“Those who visited these lands after the last of us had left Middle earth said that there was some sort of dark age,” Elladan replied, “perhaps the loss of Westernese is because of that.”

“It is possible,” Legolas could not deny the Prince of Imladris’ claim. 

After many centuries remaining in Valinor after his own arrival, some of the elves had decided to explore the world beyond, to see what had become of the Middle earth in the wake of their departure.  They brought back stories of Gondor’s demise that many of the kingdoms of men had fallen into ruin and that humans were scrambling to survive with stone tools and none of the craft the elves had taught them since their emergence at Hildorien. It was like listening to the news that a beloved child had died.  It had not only broken his heart but those who had counted men as trusted friends and allies. 

Legolas remembered his own anguish thinking of how hard Aragorn had fought to build something great, to reunify Middle earth so that all would prosper.  To know that all of it would crumble into darkness the way Beleriand had sunk into sea would have broken the proud spirit of his noble friend. Legolas was rather grateful that Aragorn was not alive to see it.

“They will be searching for us,” Elrohir commented over his shoulder at the path they had taken through the woods.

“I do not doubt that,” Legolas said shortly, determined to go on despite the risks.

“Legolas, this quest of ours may not be possible,” Elladan declared. “We thought the terrain would be unfamiliar but this is beyond us.  We cannot make our way in this world without being noticed. You saw how they looked at us.  If we did not conceal our ears when they found us, I doubt our escape would have been as easy as it was.”

“Do you think I do not know that?” Legolas stared at him. “However, we cannot stop until we find Mithrandir, not merely for his sake but ours.  Do you think they will simply let us go if we chose to turn back? If there is one thing that remains constant in the race of man it is their propensity to fear what they do not understand.  There has been nothing like us in their presence for centuries, if we were to reveal ourselves and what we are, none of us will leave this place. If Mithrandir is still alive, then he will be able to help us leave.”

Elladan or Elrohir did not speak because for the first time ever, Legolas had said if Mithrandir was alive.

********** 

Aaron had seen his last patient for the day and was looking forward to having a quiet night at home when he heard a knock on his office door.  Glancing at the clock and taking note of the time, the healer wondered who would be calling on him in the evening.  The lack of sleep the night before was catching up on him and Aaron was looking forward to getting a good night’s sleep.  He hoped whatever business his late caller had would not take too long and called out for them to enter the office.  He had expected to see a colleague or a nurse coming through the door with some new problem that could not wait, however, instead of either, a woman in a smart business suit and brief case stood before him.

The tall blond woman was of an older vintage but that did not change the fact that she was still a spectacular beauty who was had the look of a lawyer or someone affiliated with the corporate world. She offered him a smile as she entered the room, her hand extended in a gesture of greeting and yet Aaron could tell that like the rest of her persona, was an image manufactured for the purpose. 

“Doctor Stone, I’m pleased to meet you,” she replied as they exchanged handshakes. “My name is name is Sandra Collins, I am an associate of Mr. John Malcolm of Malcolm Industries.”

“I know who he is,” Aaron returned, somewhat confused at why the woman was here. “What can I do for you?”

“May we sit down?” She asked politely.

Aaron saw no reason to deny the request. He was still rather puzzled at why someone from Malcolm Industries would wish to see him but supposed that she would state her business eventually. 

“So what is this about Ms Collins?” Aaron asked once they were settled in.

“I understand you are treating the man who caused a disruption at our premises two nights ago?” She asked gingerly.

“Yes I am,” Aaron nodded and wondered what her interest in Moses was and also noted that she knew perfectly well that he was treating the old man since she had come all the way from Monolith to talk to him. “He is still undergoing evaluation,” he answered.

“I have been instructed by Mr. Malcolm to provide the best care possible for Mr..?” She gazed at Aaron for a name.

“We don’t know who he is yet,” Aaron explained somewhat surprised by the interest a corporate giant like John Malcolm was showing Moses especially when Moses considered the Monolith something of an ominous presence, “I am calling him Moses for the moment.”

“How sweet of you,” she smiled and once again Aaron was struck by how devoid it was of any real warmth or emotion for that matter.   “I see he is in the best hands possible.  Mr Malcolm however, would like to offer financial assistance for any medical expenses ‘Moses’ may incur and perhaps facilitate his transfer to a private sanatorium where he can be afforded proper treatment.”

“He is being afforded proper treatment here,” Aaron declared somewhat annoyed by the insinuation that Moses was languishing under his care with treatment akin to leeches and shock therapy,  “I am treating him.”

“I meant no offence of course,” she apologised quickly, trying to compensate for the slight.  “However, your role here if I understand it is to simply evaluate the patients for transfer to other facilities for specific care. You are not meant to have patients of your own as such”

“You understand it correctly,” Aaron answered, becoming more annoyed by the minute at this woman’s presumptions. It was irregular for him to keep patients here to treat himself, irregular but not impossible.  To keep him on staff, the hospital administrator was more than willing to extend him some liberties, especially since he was willing to practise his craft in a hospital and not some expensive practice somewhere. “However, I do from time to time, take on patients as I have done in the case of Moses.  Now might I ask why John Malcolm is so interest in a transient?  Do you know who he is? Is he a friend of Mr. Malcolm?”

“Not at all,” Sandra returned automatically but Aaron was practised enough in reading human behaviour to know that she was lying through her teeth. “My employer simply feels sorry for this old gentlemen and wishes to help him anyway he can.”

“Well the best thing for him right now is to remain here where I can continue treating him,” Aaron declared firmly while trying to remain polite at the same time. “Something terrible has happened to Moses, Ms Collins, something he needs to remember in order to regain his identity. Switching doctors on him is not going to help, he needs a face that he can identify with and confide in.  I believe I have attained that level of trust in him and I am not going to betray it by transferring him to another doctor.  Now, if you wish to fund his transfer to a sanatorium, by all means do so but I will still continue to regard him as my patient.”

”I see,” her lips thinned and she gave him a deep meaningful look. “I do not suppose I can convince you to relinquish your claim on the patient?”

“Relinquish my claim?” Aaron stared at her in astonishment. “He is not a piece of property. He is an old man with severe memory problems and the patient’s name is Moses.”

“He is not your responsibility,” Sandra shot him a look that convinced Aaron that she ran on pure ice water, not blood.  “He is nothing, a human tragedy walking the streets, like so many others.  You waste your time and effort in attempting to salvage something from the wreckage of him.”

Aaron could not believe he was having this conversation with this woman.  “He is a patient and he needs help, I am a doctor and I treat people like him.  I don’t consider him wreckage and if he was such a nonentity, then why has Malcolm sent you here?”

She did not answer but reached instead into her briefcase. Aaron wondered what she was up to now and hoped she did not plan to cite some jurisdictional nonsense as all this corporate types tended to do when their back were against the wall.  She produced a heavy brown envelope and handed it to him.

”If you cooperate, what is in that envelope is yours,” she said coolly, still wearing that expression of smug triumph on her face.  “All you have to do is sign Moses over to us and you never have to be troubled by him or me again and Mr Malcolm would consider this a close personal favour.  Its always advantageous to have friends in high places.”

Aaron glanced into the envelope and felt his breath catch.  Inside its confines was more money than he could possibly imagine.  It stared at him in thick piles of green, all in thousand dollar notes. He could not even count how many there was in there but it was a great deal. He raised his eyes at her in question, astonished by what he was seeing.

“What is this?” He managed to ask.

“Your fee for cooperating,” she answered, certain that the money would be the deciding factor in his choice.

“This is a bribe?” Aaron exclaimed.

“I would not put it quite that way,” Sandra laughed softly, “consider it a bonus.”

“Who is he?” Aaron surprised her by asking instead. “Who is he that you’re doing all this?”

“That is none of your concern,” she replied coldly, all trace of humour draining from her face. The beauty he had admired was gone and in its place was a mask of cruelty.  Aaron had a feeling that he was seeing the real Sandra Collins now.  “The time for games is over Doctor Stone. Understand that if you turn me down, the next request will not be made so cordially.  We want custody of your patient and if you will not help us, then we will acquire him ourselves.”

“The hell you will,” Aaron snapped, thrusting the envelope back into her hand. “I won’t be bribed and you want to strongarm me, fine. You do that and I’ll have to start making inquiries into why you’re so interested in him and maybe the police might be just as curious.”

”That would be a mistake,” she warned. “I don’t think you appreciate your situation. Perhaps I should leave you with a day or two to consider your options.”

“Is that a threat?” He demanded.

“We do not threaten Doctor,” she replied turning to leave. “We never threaten.”

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

Aaron was more than a little shaken by his meeting with Sandra Collins and was glad to get out of the hospital so that he could think more deeply about what had happened.  Aaron never thought a woman could ever unnerve him but Sandra words had been disconcerting.  The old story about the corporation with dirty dealings was a cliché that Aaron did not want to believe but Sandra did not sound like she was making empty threats.  All in all, his encounter with the woman had proven conclusively that there was more to Moses than meets this eye.

When he arrived at his apartment, Aaron entered to find a note had been slipped beneath the door.  He unfolded the plain, crisp white paper and stared at is contents.

Call Stuart.

S.C

 Aaron went to the phone immediately and dialled his best friend’s number. For some reason his heart was pounding with anxiety and would not be satisfied until he heard Stuart’s voice. He was greeted with a ringing tone for a few seconds before it was finally answered.  However it was not Stuart who answered but rather a woman whose voice Aaron recognised to be that of Maggie Brent’s, Stuart’s secretary.

“Maggie,” Aaron said quickly, “is Stuart there?”  

For some reason his heart was pounding.

 “Oh Doctor Stone,” she broke down tearfully.  “I’m here with the police right now, Doctor Farmer was just involved in a hit and run accident.  He’s dead.”

Chapter Three
Untimely Rescues

All the way back to the hospital, Aaron was numb.

His mind was filled with images of Stuart Farmer, his best friend since college. He remembered the all night keggers and the girls they had dated together. Stuart had been so tense during his first year at college, Aaron had made it a point to loosen up the English lit major or else be driven to commit murder.  Stuart was one of those people who left notes on the fridge door reminding you to buy milk or take out the trash.  Aaron could not even remember how many arguments they had during their four-years at college about the edibility of day old pizza stored under beds. Stuart’s arguing position was usually against it.

Aaron drove back to the hospital, trying to see through the windshield as silent tears filled his eyes.  He best friend was dead and the chances were very good that he was responsible for it.  Sandra Collins said she did not threaten and unfortunately, Aaron had learnt the hard way that she was right, she did not threaten. Stuart’s death was not a threat. It was a statement of what would happen to him if he did not cooperate with Malcolm Industries’ desire to take charge of Moses. 

Aaron wanted to go to the police but he could not.  There was not an ounce of proof that Sandra Collins was responsible for Stuart’s death.  A hit and run accident did not prove Malcolm Industries was guilty in the eyes of the law and there were a million people in New York who had the initials of S.C.  Through the deluge of tears from Maggie, he had manage to learn that Stuart had been walking to his beat up Chevy when a dark sedan came out of nowhere and ended his life with a loud thud.  Stuart died instantly, Maggie had said, as if that made it all better.  Stuart’s life ended abruptly without his even knowing why.  At least he and Aaron had that much in common. 

All Aaron knew for certain was that they wanted Moses and if he let them have the old man, he would never know why.

In a space of a few hours, Aaron had been torn out of his safe and comfortable existence and thrust head long into a shadow realm where corporations could make people disappear and have others killed.  It would have been easy for Aaron to cooperate with Sandra Collins and let Malcolm Industries take charge of Moses.  After all, Moses had been his patient for only two days; no one could blame him if he surrendered the old man to the ministrations of the corporate giant.  Sandra had promised that Moses would be taken care of at a proper facility. He would be made comfortable.  All Aaron had to do was sign the release and Moses would no longer be his problem.

It would definitely be the smart thing to do.  There was a part of Aaron that actually considered it for a brief moment.  However, Aaron thought of the promise he had made to his patient, to help Moses regain his memories and the connection Aaron had spoken of so eloquently to the menacing Ms Collins, he knew he could not do it.  He could not betray Moses by letting him fall into the hands of Malcolm Industries and he could not betray Stuart by allowing his murderers to go unpunished.  It may have been the safer solution to let them have what they wanted but Aaron knew that he would never be able to look himself in the mirror again if he did.

All these things ran through his mind as he drove back into the city, determined to deny Sandra Collins and Malcolm Industries their prize.   The tears had given away to anger and though he had no idea how he was going to exact justice, he knew he was not going to let them have what they wanted. They probably thought killing Stuart would be enough to scare him into obeying unfortunately; all it had succeeded in doing was made him mad.  He was just a psychiatrist, a nonentity to them and because of that perception; they believed they could do anything to him. Even taking away his best friend.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Aaron strode down the quiet halls of the psychiatric ward.  The duty nurse, Brenda Watts, was at her station and greeted him warmly. Unfortunately, Aaron was not in the mood for pleasantries.

“Brenda, I want you to get an orderly to have Moses ready to live immediately,” Aaron ordered.

“Leave?” She stared at him blankly.  “You’re discharging him?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’m discharging him right this minute. By the time you get him ready I’ll have the discharge papers signed and ready for processing.”

Brenda was an experienced nurse and she knew that such discharges were irregular but Aaron was the head of the psychiatric ward so she nodded mutely and returned to her station to see his orders carried out.  With that task accomplished despite Brenda’s obvious concern, Aaron retreated to his office to fill out the papers that would release Moses into his custody.  He knew that the discharge orders would come under the scrutiny of the higher administration and that there would likely be consequences of his actions but at this time, Aaron was far from caring.  John Malcolm was a powerful man and he wielded sufficient influence in town to convince Aaron that if he wanted to get his hands on Moses through the hospital system, he could.

When he emerged from his office, Moses was already waiting in the lobby.  Aaron had stopped at the pharmacy on the way into the psychiatric ward to purchase a few supplies, which Moses would need to help him with his condition. While Moses remained medicated with Thorazine, the old man was manageable. Without it, he would be more than Aaron could cope with and at this time, neither of them had the luxury of that complication.

“He’s ready Doctor Stone,” Brenda said reluctantly.  Carl, the orderly who had helped Moses get ready for his departure, showed similar hesitation.

“Thank you Brenda,” Aaron said gratefully, ignoring the confusion in Moses’ expression for now. “I know this is all very irregular but there is good reason for me. I’d appreciate it if you left it for an hour or two before you queried this Brenda.”

She opened her mouth to say something but fell silent when she noted the serious expression in his face. “Are you in trouble Doctor Stone?” She asked a brief pause later.

“We both are,” he regarded Moses.  “I have to get Moses away from here, while I still can. I know I’m asking a lot but I need you two to trust me.”

Carl, who often sat with him at the cafeteria while they talked about fishing and sports, was the first to answer, “you do what you have to Doc, I won’t say nothing.”

“I won’t either Doctor Stone,” Brenda replied with a smile. “We know you wouldn’t do something like this unless it was really important.”

“Thank you,” Aaron answered and then turned to the patient, “come on Moses, we’re going.”

Moses was undoubtedly surprised by Aaron’s actions but the old man said nothing until they had left the corridor and well on their way to the elevators.  Moses were clad in tattered old clothes that appeared to have come from a disposal store of some descriptions and passed respectability only because they had been laundered during his stay at the hospital.  Aaron wondered fleetingly just how long Moses had been suffering this condition.  Could be it possibly be years? He shuddered at the thought that this man might have been wandering around the streets for years with this hole in his memory with no idea that there might be a life somewhere out there awaiting his return.

Only when they had cleared the main doors of the hospital with the night sky above their heads, did Moses deign to speak.

“Is this an aggressive form of therapy?” He asked as they crossed the parking lot to Aaron’s car.

“No,” Aaron replied shortly. “I just needed to get you out of there.”

“Not that I am not grateful to escape that place, may I ask why the sudden urgency?” Moses inquired as they came to a stop where his BMW was parked.

Aaron did not answer until they were both inside the car and driving out of the hospital.  He had no idea where they would go.  He thought of taking Moses back to his home but then abandoned the idea because it was the first place they would look for the old man once they discovered what the doctor had done.  For the moment, he just wanted to put some distance between them and the hospital. He would figure the rest out later.

“Someone from Malcolm Industries came to see me today,” Aaron finally answered, his voice calmer than it should be considering what had happened since he and Moses last saw each other.

“Indeed,” Moses eyed him suspiciously, his demeanour altering from a frail old man to something stronger and more in control of his situation.  “Please continue,” he urged.

Once again, Aaron was filled with the same sense of foreboding that Moses felt whenever Malcolm Industries was mentioned. Aaron started to wonder if perhaps John Malcolm was somehow responsible for the state Moses was presently in.  Their determination to retrieve the old man was proof enough that he was in possession of something they were willing to kill to acquire.  More than ever, Aaron realised that the key to extracting himself from the situation he now found himself embroiled and to gain justice for Stuart’s death was to unlock the secret of his mysterious patient.

“It was a woman called Sandra Collins, she called herself an associate of John Malcolm,” Aaron spoke the words bitterly, somewhat surprised at the hatred bubbling inside of him when he thought of the ruthlessly mercurial female who had most likely ordered Stuart killed on behalf of her employer.  “She wanted me to release you into their custody. Gave me some bullshit story about paying all your medical expenses and sending you to a private sanatorium where you’d get the care you supposedly needed.”

“I take it you refused,” Moses remarked automatically.

“Of course I did,” Aaron replied, “you’re my patient and I promised to help you.  I take that responsibility pretty seriously.”

“It could cost you,” Moses pointed out.

Aaron stared straight ahead and answered quietly, his voice wavering a little as he spoke,  “it already has.  I got a note from this Sandra Collins when I walked into the front door of my apartment.  She told me to call a friend of mine named Stuart. Stuart and I have been friends since college, we’re pretty close.  When I rang, I found out from his secretary that he was killed in a hit and run accident.  It happened not long before I called.”

“Oh Aaron,” Moses let out a heavy sigh of sympathy, “I am sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Aaron declared, sucking in his breath because saying it out loud made him feel the anguish of Stuart’s demise even more acutely.  He was restraining his emotions because the situation at present required him to maintain control of himself but the grief still felt like a knife in his heart.  “You didn’t kill him,” Aaron said glancing at Moses to make certain the old man knew he meant it.

“Neither did you,” Moses countered, proving the he could be just as kindly.  “I am sorry I have brought this on you however.”

The old man gazed forward at the darkened street they were moving through. He saw the bodies moving up and down the pavement and knew that anonymity in the flotsam of human tragedy was quite possible and that it might serve the doctor who was trying to help him, if he disappeared into it. Moses had hoped that Aaron could help him because even though he remembered nothing about his past, his senses were still intact and he could feel things at times that were capable of aiding him as much as his lost memories. 

From the moment he had meant Aaron Stone, he had been able to feel comfortable and strangely assured by the doctor’s presence.  He knew now that it was nothing to do with the young man’s profession and everything to do with Aaron himself.  Moses did not know why but he knew he could entrust his life to Aaron and never disappointed.  However, Moses had no wish to be the harbinger of doom for the doctor either.

“Perhaps you should just let me go Aaron,” Moses replied, no longer wishing to think of the man who had risked himself as just his doctor but as a friend.  “Let me go before it becomes any worse for you.”

Aaron shifted his gaze from the road ahead long enough to show the old man his incredulity.

“No,” Aaron shook his head, not even needing to think about it any further. “I’m not going to let you disappear in the hopes that they won’t find you. I’m not going to walk away just to make things easier for me.”

“You’ve already lost your friend,” Moses countered, “I do not wish you to lose your life as well.”

“Bullshit!” Aaron snapped, feeling a burst of anger spiling out of him because of that statement and with the situation in general. “My life is already in danger.  It was the moment I chose to help you escape and that was my choice because I want to know what is so goddamn important that it was worth Stuart’s life just to get to you!  I want to know why they want you so bad and I think you know a lot more than you’re saying and I don’t mean that just as your psychiatrist!”

“I do not know anything specific,” Moses sighed out loud, understanding his anger as well as feeling responsible for it.  “I only know that the Malcolm Building is a place of evil.  I can feel things even if I cannot remember.  I feel as if I know you though I cannot understand how that can be.  When you speak the name of John Malcolm, I am filled with fear and loathing.  I cannot explain to you any better than that I’m afraid.  I wish I did know why my memories do not come to me or what my name is. Each time I try to remember it, my mind rebels against the desire and I am plunged into insanity. I am sorry for your friend, I wish more than anything I could have prevented it but I cannot even help myself.”

The sorrow in Moses’ voice touched Aaron and he immediately felt badly for raising his voice to the man.  After all, Moses was as much a victim in this as Stuart had been.  It had been Aaron’s choice not to co-operate; Moses had little to do with that decision.  The psychiatrist in Aaron knew that he was simply displacing his anger, taking it out on the patient when the person he should be angry at sat in a penthouse office of the Monolith, a place he was really starting to believe, was evil.

“Its not your fault Moses,” Aaron found himself saying.  “I don’t blame you and I sure as hell don’t want you to deal with them on your own.  I said I wanted to help you and I still mean it.  Except now I also want to help you because I need to understand why Stuart was killed.  I need to know so I can do something about it.”

“It is a dangerous path you seek to travel with me, however I am grateful for the companionship,” Moses replied, affected by the younger man’s words more than he cared to admit.  He had an intuition that he had spent many years this way, too many as a matter of fact and to have companionship, even if it was fleeting, was not unwelcomed.

After all, who knew how long he had been alone?

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

The elves had come to one conclusion as they travelled once again through the world of men, they incapable of leaving any landscape untouched. 

For most of the night they travelled swiftly without pause, determined to put as much distance between themselves and their captors earlier on.  Legolas had only the stars to guide him on his quest to find Mithrandir and even that small benefice was centuries out of date.  It had been the place of his last known whereabouts and it was more than likely that Mithrandir, if he still lived, had moved on a long time ago.  Although Legolas had refused to admit the Istar could be dead throughout the journey from Valinor, the things they were encountering in the world of men was giving him good reason to change his steadfast opinion.

There were things in this world that were almost akin to sorcery far potent than any Legolas had seen in his long life.  He knew on some level that many of these things were devices for men shared one common trait with dwarfs and this was their love of creating wonders from stone and steel.  The devices were more elaborate certainly and some of them functioned in a manner no elf could even begin to conceive but they were still devices.  Such power at the hands of a race that still appeared young and foolish to him was a dangerous thing and for once Legolas did not know if Mithrandir was capable of acquitting himself against it.

It was not long before they were forced to leave the forest in which they were travelling and emerge into the open once again.  Beyond the tree line, the paved roads seemed endless.  There were structures every where and Legolas came to the conclusion that while mankind progressed considerably since the Fourth Age, his taste in architecture was severely lacking.  The buildings they came upon were ugly and grey, sometimes they were covered in facades of glass but mostly they appeared like towers one might find in Baradur.  Aesthetics apparently held little importance to man of this age.

Taking advantage of the darkness, the three elves remained close to the shadows as they moved through the streets, trying to fade into the background despite everything about them drawing attention.  However, they were not accosted in any way, merely becoming recipients of some rather odd looks from the people they encountered.  Elladan’s observation earlier that the race of men had unified was not incorrect. As they walked through the paved streets, they noted that there were many racial types with also lent credence that the language of Westron had been lost because of this amalgamation of cultures.

He also noted that there were two kinds of paved roads.  One was a dark road with lines running through its centre while the other, a small walkway flanking the former was obviously more favoured since no one took the large road.  Like the White City of Gondor, lamp posts also framed these streets though it was not flame that created the illumination but a source of power unknown to the elves.

“Where are their horses?” Elladan asked as the number of people they were seeing increased.

“Horses?” Legolas looked at his companion and realised that it was a valid observation.

“Yes,” Elladan declared, “we have travelled a great distance and have seen no horses. How do these people travel?”

“Perhaps they do so on foot,” Elrohir suggested, taking note of a two young females staring at them and bursting into a loud set of giggles before they went on their way.

“We really need to change our clothes,” Legolas remarked, “We are too easily recognised as different.”

“At least our ears are covered,” Elladan smirked and then added, “though I wish my sense of smell were diminished a little.  I do not know what these people have done to the air but they have a great deal to answer for.  I do not think even the stench from Mount Doom is as contaminated as this.’

Suddenly, they were blinded by twin strobes of bright light coming towards them. The glare was so sharp that they were forced to turn away as the brilliance was accompanied by a low rumbling sound that sounded not unlike the mechanism that powered the craft that had brought them to shore.  As the source of it approached, all three stared in awe as the metal beast drove past them, explaining all at once why none of the people they had seen walked on the dark road and why there were no horses.  The beast moved past them swiftly, trailing smoke expelled from its innards and was clearly mastered by the mortal inside it.

“Well now you know why they have no horses, they have carriages that do not require them,” Elrohir glanced at his brother.

“I had no idea they were this creative,” Elladan replied, still staring after the mechanical beast as it disappeared into the darkness, the red lights behind it flashing periodically as it drew farther away into the night.

“Creative?” Legolas snorted, “what is exuding from that thing is poison. Can you not smell it?”

“I have given up using my nose in this place,” Elladan said sarcastically.

“How long are we to travel in this manner?” Elrohir asked, tearing his gaze away from a small building with a clear glass face.  Judging by the manner in which items of clothing were being displayed, the elf gathered that they had entered something of a mercantile district.  Though many of the shops were close, the ones that were open exuded aromatic flavours that could only be food.  The scent of it made the elf’s stomach rumble for in their haste to escape their captors, they had only packed the essentials, which unfortunately, did not include food.

“I do not know,” Legolas frowned. “We must seek shelter but I do not know where we could find it in this place, or how to ask anyone for guidance.”

“We should at least eat,” Elladan pointed out.  “My strength to continue on foot would be a good deal better on a full stomach.”

“I cannot disagree with you,” the prince of Mirkwood agreed.   “It would be interesting to see what passes for a decent meal in this place.”

“If it is anything like what they consider clothing, I shudder to think,” Elrohir retorted. “I still cannot believe that fetching young woman allowed herself to be displayed in such a manner.  She was truly exquisite and yet decadently indecent.”

“Perhaps they are not inhibited by their bodies,” Legolas shrugged, attempting to be fair regarding the customs of the mortals. 

Elrohir however, was not listening.  His nose was leading him into one of the shops because of the exotic aroma of food that was coming from it.  It was a scent that was laced in spices and had the faint essence of meat to it.  For three elves who had eaten nothing in almost a day, the aroma was quite tempting.   As the entered the premises, the food was already prepared and waiting at the counter manned by a dark skinned mortal of Haradirim descent.  The human regarded the new arrivals somewhat strangely and spoke to them, no doubt inquiring of them what they wanted.  The language of shop owners was universal, even if the words sounded different.

Their presence in the establishment captured the attention of other patrons and made the elves feel very self conscious.  Legolas hoped that barter was still in existence because he knew of no other way to communicate what he wanted.  Producing a gold coin that was a remnant of the kind used as currency in Gondor, Legolas handed it to the puzzled owner of the shop.  The man stared at Legolas for a moment but his eyes spoke volumes when it widened at the sight of gold.  He examined the coin by biting into it, a practice Legolas was familiar with despite being away from the business of trading for almost a hundred millennia.

Apparently their offering was acceptable to the owner for they were seated within a few short minutes, being served whatever food they had pointed to.   Their presence was still a matter of fascination by the other patrons of the establishment but Legolas did not expect it to be any different. At least they knew that gold was still a valuable commodity and would help them survive in this alien world.

“Be careful with that, if I recall correctly, the Easterlings like their food spicy,” Legolas advised Elladan as the elf was about to dig into their meal.  Fifty years married to an Easterling had left that indelible memory in his mind, especially when he recalled how long it took him to become accustomed to Melia’s cooking.  He had loved the woman dearly but she had never been that good a cook.

The bottle of cold, dark fluid in his hand preoccupied Legolas as he examined it closely.  Cold vapours rose out of its narrow mouth and Legolas was rather amazed at how icy it felt against the skin.  It seemed to be a favoured drink because many of the other diners were also partaking of it.  He held it to his lips and was surprised by the tingle against his tongue and how the cold seemed to complement the taste.

“You are right,” Elladan replied as the taste exploded against his tongue but it was not unpleasant, just hot.

“Try this,” Legolas told his companions as he drained the bottle in his hand .

“You ought to take care,” Elrohir remarked with a grin, “you know how useless you are with strong drink.”

Legolas shot him a look before retorting, “this does not appear to contain spirits of any kind but it is intoxicating.”

Despite their presence being a source of discussion within the premises, they were for the moment left alone as they dined on their exotic meal.  Legolas took the time to look about the place and was grateful that the hygiene in such places had greatly improved since the Fourth Age.  Legolas admired the humanity ability to endure and was grateful that they had survived the Dark Age that had come upon them after the elves had gone.  Eru had made them a hardy people who because their lack of immortality, gave them the fierce need to endure at all costs.  Legolas was pleased that they had reached some measure of prosperity though their urbanization seemed to have gotten a little out of control.

Suddenly his gaze fell upon two men entering the premises.  Their faces were grim as they made their way towards the owner of the shop owner and something about their manner made Legolas tense.  He glanced briefly at Elladan and Elrohir and noted that the twins were also staring at their new arrivals with similar suspicion.  Legolas unconsciously reached for his bow as they stood at the counter, appearing unarmed to the naked eye, however, the elf had remembered the size of the weapons they had been threatened with when they were accosted on the high seas and knew that they were easily concealed.

The shop owner seemed to have similar suspicions of danger as well for he approached them rather nervously.  Though Legolas did not understand the words, the elf gathered that the man was asking the duo what they wanted.  Their reaction though abrupt was ultimately predictable. As anticipated one, pulled out a weapon, pointing it to the helpless shopkeepers face and shouting his demands.  The second man pulled out a longer version of the weapon, aiming at the patrons, waving it about and engendering cries of fear from the children and the women in particular.

Elrohir’s first impulse was to attack and both Elladan and Legolas could see him wishing to.  However Legolas ordered him to stand down, wishing the situation to play out a little more before they decided how to act.  Meanwhile, the thief at the counter discovered the gold coin Legolas had used to pay for their meal amongst the other earnings the shop owner was being forced to relinquish.   It did not take him long to determine its source and when the man barked orders at the companion terrorizing the patrons, Legolas knew that he was going to come towards them.

He was right. 

Within seconds, the second thief had marched up to Elrohir and was shouting his demands for the rest of their gold.  Legolas had risen to his feet, keeping his bow concealed beneath the table for the moment although he was poised to act.  The man was shoving the barrel of the weapon into Elrohir’s shoulder and both Elladan and Legolas could see the Prince of Imladris was fast losing his temper.

“Can you take him?” Legolas asked.

The thief shouted at him but since Legolas could not understand a word he was saying and did not care to for that matter, the elf ignored him.

“If you can deal with his companion, I can take him,” Elrohir answered quietly.

Their conversation seemed to infuriate the man and he lashed out with the butt of the weapon striking Elrohir.  Elladan moved towards his brother but the thief trained his weapon on the elf with every intention of using it to restrain him.  Suddenly, Elrohir was on his feet, faster than any mortal present had likely seen in quite some time, he slammed his palm into the barrel of the weapon, forcing it towards the ceiling and away from his brother’s face. With his other hand, he threw a punch into his attacker’s jaw, using the man’s ensuing distraction to wrestle the weapon away from him.

The first man, seeing his friend being attacked, quickly aimed his weapon at Elrohir and though Legolas did not know how the thing worked, he was in no hurry to see it used especially on him comrade.  Without needing to think twice, Legolas loaded his bow with lightning speed and let one arrow fly.  The projectile tore into the thief’s shoulder, forcing the human to drop the weapon he was holding to the floor with a loud clattering noise.

“Are you alright?” Elladan asked Elrohir with concern as he noted an ugly bruise forming against his brother’s pale skin.

“It is nothing that will not heal in time,” Elrohir replied as he handed Elladan the strange weapon and searched for something to restrain the fallen man at his feet.

As he did so, the establishment burst into a series of loud cheers and clapping as the other patrons expressed their admiration at the elves handiwork.

While Legolas would like nothing better than to soak up their adulation, this attention to their presence could not be good and he suddenly felt the need to leave while they still could.  Legolas approached the man he had subdued with his bow, hearing the human curse a litany of words whose meaning was clear enough.  Leaving the arrow where it was because removing it would cause too much pain, Legolas bound the man’s wrists together to ensure he would cause no further mischief when they departed. Elladan had done the same to his companion.

“We should go,” Legolas declared despite the fact that the shopkeeper was shaking his hand rigorously with a smile on his face, probably offering them thanks for their assistance.  He even returned the piece of gold that had sparked the thieves’ interest.  However, Legolas refused its return but helped himself to several bottles of the bottled drink, a sacrifice the shop owner was more than happy to spare after their heroics on his behalf.

Emerging into the night once more, the trio did not get very far before they heard a loud screeching noise speeding towards them.  There was a moment of pandemonium before they found themselves facing two mechanical beasts, the bright glow of their orbs like eyes glaring at them.  These were unlike the carriages they had seen earlier because a spinning red light sat on top of each vehicle, almost like a beacon. 

Whatever that crimson light was meant to signify meant little since Legolas and his companions were surrounded with nowhere to run.

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

 The investigation was not going well.

Every instinct that Eve possessed told her that John Malcolm was responsible for Richard Falstaff’s death.  Unfortunately, her instincts would not stand up in a court of law and the fact that she could find no evidence that might support her belief, seemed to indicate that Malcolm had little to fear from justice being done.   As anticipated, when she interviewed the staff in the financial section of Malcolm Industries where Falstaff had worked, their stories deviated little from the statements Malcolm had been good enough to prepare for her.  It was clear that they were instructed before hand of what to say and thus Eve found very little that could explain why the man was killed.

She knew that he was not simply a senior accountant even before she had searched his office and found nothing that could explain why he was killed.  When she moved the desk she found very slight indentation marks in the plush carpet and knew this office had been made ready for her perusal.  This was not Falstaff’s office and appeared as if it had been put together quickly so that she would believe that he was exactly what Malcolm claimed, just another accountant.  Unfortunately Eve’s attempt to push the issue was met with indifference. 

Realising that she would receive no assistance from Malcolm Industries, she went to see Mrs. Falstaff, the grieving widow.  Victoria Falstaff was unable to say clearly what her husband did for the company, other than what the fact that he was an accountant.  In fact, she was very reluctant to say anything at all about him.   When Eve insisted she try and remember, Mrs. Falstaff would only state that she had a child to think of and that she was relying heavily upon the income coming from her husband insurance policy, a policy held by a company also owned by Malcolm Industries.

Eve sat at her desk in the precinct, wondering if she was simply going to have to relinquish this entire matter into the unsolved case archives since there was no other avenues left to pursue.  She supposed she could pull up the Falstaff’s bank records and see if there were any large deposits or  determine what kind of salary the man actually earned since it would go a long way to proving that Falstaff was not just any other accountant.  Not many she knew wore Armani suits and even less were found in parts of town where they were easy targets for muggers, if that was what actually happened to the man.

She had other cases to deal with anyway and though she hated being so helpless when a man had lost his life, there was little else she could do unless a new lead turned up.  Deciding that she was not going to work herself up into a royal state of gloom at being stymied in this investigation, Eve left her desk bound for the Starbuck’s across the street. The only thing that could make her feel better at this point was a Frappacino.   She had emerged into the front desk area of the police station when suddenly, she heard someone shouting at her.

Well there’s something you don’t see very day.

This, Eve said to herself when she saw four officers escorting what could only be described as three men playing Robin Hood and his extremely effeminate merry men.  Effeminate was perhaps not the right word, Eve thought as she and the rest of the police officers present gawked in a mixture of amusement and astonishment at the trio being led to the front desk.   It was not that they were effeminate but rather very pretty for men with their long hair and their finely sculpted features.  Their clothes were straight out of an Errol Flynn movie in earthy shades one would expect of people used to traipsing about in the woods.  They seemed rather overwhelmed by their circumstances until one of them caught sight of her and began to shout.

“Undomiel! Onónë!” 

 Eve could swear that he was addressing her but she had no idea what he was saying.  All three seemed extremely shocked at the sight of her and that inspired Eve’s curiosity enough to ask what was going on.

“What is this?” Eve asked the arresting officer, a rather brutish looking man named Idzikowski who had a heart of gold, when he wasn’t attempting to impersonate Dennis Franz. 

”Picked this guys up on an INS warrant,” Idzikowski replied as the rest of his comrades prompted the three towards processing.  “Coast guard picked them up off the coast near Long Island.  On the way to shore they escaped, no identification papers, nothing. Don’t even know what language they’re speaking.  Coast guard describes them as possibly Swedish or Norwegian. Anyway, we’re meant to hold them here until INS comes to get them.”

“Swedish huh?” Eve ran her eyes over the men who were still staring at her.  All she could see in their eyes was shock, shock and astonishment because of her.  Eve could not understand why.

“Undomiel!” The tall one with the dark hair and intense eyes cried out again and this time there was no mistaking that he was directing his outburst at her. There was a hint of desperation in his voice, as if he really needed for her to listen to him.  It unnerved Eve a little but then lately, everything had affected her more than it should have.

“Looks like you make a friend,” Idzikowski grinned with what could only be described in Webster’s dictionary as your classic shit-eating grin.

“Couldn’t be the worst thing that happen to me today,” Eve shrugged though she was rather uneasy as what this was all about. “Could we get a translator in here?”

“We could if we know what language they’re speaking.  I mean if you ask me, they look like they’re a couple of fags from the Village.”

Eve rose her brow and gave Idzikowski a look, “I believe the correct term is ‘gay’, sergeant.”

“Whatever,” Idzikowski shrugged.  “Ain’t gonna mean shit when they hit the lock up.”

Somehow the idea of these men being placed into lock up even if it was for a day or so did not sit well with Eve.  As they were lead away to processing, she noticed they were still staring at her wearing that same astonished expression. However, while the tall, dark haired one was no longer shouting at her, she knew that something about her had sparked off his outburst.  For the first time in days, Eve’s thoughts were fixed upon something other than Malcolm Industries and John Malcolm.

All thoughts of the Frappacino she had intended to get, faded from her mind. Instead she lingered close by watching the officers remove the trio’s personal effects, which were just as baffling as everything else about them.  Speculation began to stir across the precinct room that they were either circus people or crazed method actors.  Someone even suggested they might be from California.

While they were being taken in for finger printing, Eve examined with interest, the personal effects taken from the three men.  The most noticeable items were naturally the swords, the bow and its accompanying arrows.  She had in her time seen weapons of this nature but the there was a beauty to them that surpassed anything she had seen in a museum.    However, the weapons did not compare to the contents of the leather pouch next to them.

Whether or not they knew it, the trio had a veritable fortune in gold coins accompanying their small arsenal.  Emptying the contents onto the table for a closer look, the coins glittered under the harsh illumination of the precinct room’s fluorescent lights. Eve thought they might be Krugerrands or doubloons because she could think of nothing else that match its description and reached up to pick one of the shiny pieces.  She gazed at intricate patterns etched in gold against her palm and felt her mind started to wander….

It came upon her so suddenly that Eve had no idea what hit her.

Suddenly the room was spinning so fast that the faces around her melted into a blur of colour.  The same crippling disorientation that had attacked her in the elevator at the Malcolm Building assaulted her with even more ferocity. Only this time; there were images to accompany the strange feelings coursing through her.  While she did not feel the mind numbing fear of her earlier episode, she did feel something kindling inside her, something that had been clawing its way through the mire of darkness within her soul ever since she laid eyes on the Monolith.  Eve did not understand what she was seeing and was certain that she was going insane just before she lost complete control of her senses.

Faces appeared, fleeting images that left enough traces inside of her to form memories. The three men she had seen earlier flashed before her and the sensation they engendered were one of familiarity.  She saw herself among them, appearing almost unreal, like the fantasy a young girl might have about being a princess in some far away land. It would almost be laughable if Eve were not seeing before her.  She saw herself with the three, smiling, laughing, knowing the love for them that could come only with a long association.  She knew them.  They were apart of her but she did not know how.  Their light filled her soul though not completely.  Someone else was missing.

And then she saw him and nothing else seemed to matter.  

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

Something acrid was being held under her nose.

Eve pulled away from the stench as the fog lifted from her mind. Her senses were awakened by the pungent smell assaulting her nostrils and she turned her head trying to escape it.  When she opened her eyes, she found herself being surrounded by faces looking down at her with concern.  Sergeant Idzikowski was apparently the one responsible for her assault with smelling salts.  She stared up at them with confusion until more of her situation became clear and she realised that she was lying on the floor. The realisation made her sit up right abruptly though it was an action she soon regretted because it sent another wave of dizziness through her.  Fortunately, this time it passed quickly enough.

“What the hell happened?” She muttered when she was able to focus.

“You fainted Detective,” Idzikowski informed her dutifully as the some of the officers dispersed realising that she was all right and in seemingly good hands.  Someone had brought her a cup of water which Eve gratefully accepted.

“Fainted?” Eve balked before she could even take a sip. “I don’t faint!”

“You’re on the floor,” he retorted. “Looks like fainting to me.”

Eve scrambled to her feet, brushing off Idzikowski’s efforts to help her up.  “You mean I just fell over?”

“Well you kind of went spacey first holding that thing in your hands,” he added.

Eve looked down at her hand and saw that she was still clutching the coin in the centre of her palm.  The images of what she had seen stayed in her mind and she knew that was something was happening to her, something to do with those three men.  Somehow, they knew her and though Eve could not understand how it was possible, she was utterly certain that she knew them too.  All her life, she had been plagued by this sense of intuition that allowed her to tell almost immediately, without the assistance of evidence or information what people were about.  It was one of the reasons she had entered law enforcement because being a cop helped her use this odd perception to help others. 

Right now, this perception was telling her to find out all she could about those three strangers.

“Must be a long day,” she said shrugging off the incident.  “Thanks everyone,” she looked at those officers who were still lingering around her in concern. “I’m okay.”

“You sure?” Idzikowski said dubiously, his own instincts telling her that there was more to it than she was letting on. 

“I’m sure,” she replied handing back the coin to him.  “So what happened to those three you brought in?” Eve asked, trying to sound casual as she straightened her clothes and ran her fingers through her hair.

“Well they’re in lock up,” Idzikowski replied after a moment, his mind shifting from concern to addressing her question.  “We tried finger printing them but that didn’t work.”

Eve started at him, “didn’t work?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, clearly disturbed. “They don’t have fingerprints, any of them.”

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

 Eve stared at the items in the impound room a short time later, trying to make sense of everything she was seeing.

Swords, bow and arrows, pouches made of leather, who even used these things any more? The gold coins stared at her in defiance, charging her to solve the riddle of what they were.   She read the report from the Coast Guard.  These men had been picked up off the coast of Bay Shore in a boat that had no visible means of artificial power other than sails.  There were enough rations in the ship for what was obviously an extended journey. So how far had they actually travelled? Even the captain of the cutter was at a loss to explain the whole affair.

European maritime agencies had been contacted but the officials at Bay Shore Coast Guard seemed unsurprised that they had no record of any sailing craft matching the description of the one they had towed in.  Captain Wallace had said it looked like something out of an old Viking movie.  He was almost relieved when they jumped ship to became someone else’s problem.  Idzikowski’s own apprehension report described how the three had prevented the hold up at a local Indian restaurant.

He had called her Undomiel.

What did that mean? He said it with such passion and the expression in his eyes despite the shock and was one of joy. He had been happy to see her.  Eve did not even want to think about her fainting spell at the touch of one of those exquisitely engraved coins.  She was a rational person who believed in things that could be proven by science and by fact.  Yet she could not deny that too many times in her life, she had relied upon instincts that could be proven by none of these. 

The images of what she had seen while she had been unconscious were too vivid to ignore and they seemed to be the culmination of the strange things that she had been experiencing of late, ever since she returned from the Malcolm Building. She did not know how she knew those men in the lock up below but she could feel something for them that were difficult to explain. The mystery about them was deep enough with their inability to speak a recognisable language or the fact that none of them seemed to have fingerprints.  Where there should have been whorls and lines on their fingertips, there was only smooth skin with no pattern at all.

The policeman attempting to fingerprint them believed initially that they had intentionally burnt away their prints but the truth was, self-mutilation of this type usually left behind scars of some kind.  On closer examination, there was nothing of the kind on any of the trio’s hands. If anything, it looked like a natural omission of their genetic make up, which only made the whole thing even more bizarre.

Her ruminations were leading Eve down a path she did not wish to go because it meant jeopardizing her badge, her career and perhaps more importantly, the assurance she had in her life that everything was just what it was, that nothing existed beneath the surface of what she perceived was reality. However, the more she thought about it, the more it dug its way into her mind, like a splinter that was driving her insane or more specifically towards a goal she could not deny.

Damn, Eve thought as she stood up from her desk and came to a decision, not realising that she had been sitting there for hours debating the subject. 

She was lucky if they didn’t throw her in jail for what she was about to do.

************** 

“It is impossible!” Elrohir exclaimed with no small amount of exasperation at Elladan as they sat inside their latest prison.

“It is not impossible!” His twin returned just as vehemently.  “You saw her! You both saw her! That was the Evenstar!”

“It looks a great deal like her,” Elrohir conceded that much even though he was not as convinced as his brother.  “But the woman out there was human and our sister, however she chose to live her out her life, was elvish!”

Elladan refused to believe it.  The woman they had seen before being brought into this cell was the splitting image of their sister.  The elf could not accept that it was mere coincidence that allowed their paths to cross so fortuitously.  Fate had brought them together and Elladan refused to ignore it especially in the face of the quest they had come here to fulfil.  Elladan was certain that Iluvutar had guided them here so that they would find the Evenstar, who was born of this time and could help them navigate through this world to find Mithrandir.

“She may have been elvish but her soul did not return to Mandos,” Elladan declared hotly. “We know that the souls of mortals are different. Iluvutar said that he allowed their souls to go beyond. What if it was to live other lives? What if he did not grant them immortality as much as he granted them the power to reincarnate?”

“Elladan, I agree with you, she does resemble our sister but we have no way of knowing that the similarities run any deeper than just the skin,” Elrohir said trying to calm him, aware of how passionate his brother can be when properly motivated. Most of the time Elladan kept him emotions in tight control in contrast to Elrohir who liked to express them openly.  However if a cause inspired his brother enough, Elrohir knew perfectly well how determined Elladan could be.

Legolas had not weighed in with his opinion because he did believe Elladan. 

He believed because once upon a time, he had loved a human and she had died, the way all mortals do at the culmination of their existence.  He had mourned her dearly and thought that she was gone from him forever. When he arrived at Valinor almost half a century later, he was still pining for his lost love but to his surprise, Legolas discovered an elvish woman born on the same day as her passing, was carrying her soul.  There was never any doubt in his mind that the woman he mourned had been reborn in a new body with no memories of her past.  Legolas knew her soul was the same as his Melia. Through the grace of Iluvutar, she had been returned to him as Ariel.

“She is the Evenstar,” Elladan refused to entertain any other possibility, “I know it in my heart that woman was our sister born in human flesh.”

“Well whether or not she is the Evenstar, it is hardly beside the point,” Elrohir declared, getting back to the point at hand.  “It does not change the fact that we are trapped inside this prison.”

The dungeons were different from any that the elves had experienced in their lifetime. It was far cleaner and well lit.  Harsh white light glared at them from overhead.  There were receptacles for sanitary purposes and the bunks for prisoners. The steel bars allowed the prisoners to see each other thus removing the feeling of isolation somewhat.   When they had first been shown into their cell, the other prisoners had stared and offered derisive words whose maliciousness none of the elves doubted, however, the novelty of their appearance had worn off and now they were largely ignored.

“I think we face a greater problem,” Legolas declared examining the ink stains on his fingertips, “they were very upset that our fingers showed no marks.”

“Even more so because we all bore the same trait,” Elrohir nodded in agreement. “Unfortunately we cannot explain to them that this is so because we are elves.”

“That is for certain,” Legolas retorted. “I fear that the next time we see them, they will wish to examine us more closely and I do not think we will be able to hide our differences any longer.”

If Legolas expected a response from his comrades, he would have been disappointed because no sooner than he had spoken those words, the dungeon erupted into a cacophony of hooting sounds and whistling.  Legolas looked down the corridor and saw the woman that Elladan was convinced was the Evenstar approaching their cell. 

***********

“Are you sure about this?” Idzikowski looked at Eve.

“Yeah,” Eve nodded. “I spoke to INS and they agreed to let me take these boys over to their offices.  They’ve got a translator waiting on their end.”

“Beats me why you’d want to handle these weirdoes though,” he muttered, aware that this was all very irregular but Eve McCaughley was a good cop and if she had instincts about these three men, then who was he to argue?  Besides, there was something spooky about the trio and Idizikowski was glad to see them gone. It was not his place to debate the matter with a detective and a lieutenant nor was it his badge in jeopardy if she was anything but on the level about what she was doing.

“I want to find out where they’re from,” Eve replied evasively, questioning herself for the hundredth time what she could possibly be thinking by embarking on this insane course of action. 

“Try Never Never Land,” the crusty officer snorted.

Eve gave the man a look before regarding her new charges once the door to their cell was slid open rather noisily.  They stared at her blankly though the one who had called out after her wore a decidedly smug expression on his face.  He turned to the others and made a comment that neither she nor Idzikowski understood but engendered a look of annoyance from his companions. 

Eve gestured for them to come forward and though their faces showed their uncertainty, they nevertheless complied and obeyed.  With only hand signals to cross the language barrier, Eve was rather pleased with herself when she communicated her desire well enough for them to follow her down the corridor.  Once again, she was struck by this sense of knowing them despite the inability to speak their language.  However, they seemed to know what she was attempting to say and that went a long way to convincing Eve that despite the insanity of her actions, she was doing the right thing.

Eve had waited until most of the officers had left for the evening and the night shift was on duty.  She had taken the liberty of removing their belongings from impound which included their weapons and for some odd reason, several bottles of Coke.  Having secured their release, all she had to do was get them out of the station before anyone raised any uncomfortable questions.  Those who asked her what she was doing were met with the same story she had provided Idzikowski.  The INS had requested that the prisoners be brought to their offices where a translator was waiting and she had volunteered to undertake the duty.

She made no effort to speak to them and a part of Eve was telling herself that if she was jumped by these men as soon as they left the precinct and murdered, it would be entirely her own fault.  Fortunately, they seemed to know that stealth was needed and played their parts just as well, making no effort to speak and remaining quiet until they were out of the precinct.  A visible change overtook them she noticed, once they were outdoors.  The tension and grim demeanour had given away to ease.  Whether this was because they were free or out in the open, Eve could not say for certain.

She led them to her car, a T-bird convertible and gestured for them to get in.  The three seemed reluctant to enter the vehicle at first, staring at the car as if it were some kind of menace. Eve climbed in first and ordered them to get in.  While they may not have understood the words, her tone was unmistakable and they soon joined her in the vehicle though somewhat nervously. 

“Alright,” she turned to face them from the driver’s seat, not really expecting them to understand a word she was saying but it made her feel better just to try. “I have no idea why I have just risked my career on you three rejects from a Prince Valiant film but if you try anything, I will shoot you.”  Just to prove her point, she showed them the gun she was carrying. Their widened eyes told Eve they understood her meaning.

“Eve,” she pointed to herself deciding she should at least know their names since she was breaking them out of jail.

“Undomiel,” the one who had spoken earlier stated instead.

“No, not whatever you just said,” she grumbled and tapped her chest again. “Eve.”

“Eve,” he said uncertainly.

“And you are?” She pointed to his chest hoping that he would reciprocate in the exchange.

“Elladan,” he answered after a moment.

“Elladan,” she had a little trouble pronouncing it because he spoke with an unfamiliar accent. The word rolled off the tongue and had a lyrical quality about it which Eve found she quite liked.

“Elrohir,” he pointed to the almost identical male next to him and it took no feat of genius for Eve to guess that they were family, brothers most likely.  

“Legolas,” the blond replied in turn.

“Sit tight,” she instructed as she started the car.  The roar of the engine sent all three jumping in their seats, startled by the noise.  It took a few seconds to calm them down before she could even leave the parking lot. 

One thing was for certain, Eve thought as she drove, they weren’t Swedish.

Chapter Four
Aggressive Therapy 

Aaron knew that was he was about to do was dangerous.

This had always been a last resort measure, something psychiatrists used when conventional therapy did not yield results.  If time had permitted, Aaron would have preferred to apply those methods to help Moses regain his lost memories but the truth was, they were running out of time.  He had to find out what the old man knew immediately because the truth was the only weapon they possessed against Malcolm Industries and this was the fastest way to acquire it.

Although he was familiar with the dynamics of hypnotherapy and had used it on a number of occasions, he felt a certain amount of apprehension at employing it on Moses. So much of Moses’ condition was an unknown and prudence demanded that they approached the tampering of his subconscious mind with caution. However, the urgency of their situation required Aaron to attack the old man’s condition with a more daring form of treatment, if hypnotherapy could be called that at all. 

Since releasing Moses from the psychiatric ward, the doctor and patient had spent their time in a motel in Brooklyn, trying to decide what to do.  Moses seemed content to let him make all the decisions and Aaron would not have minded this if he had actually had some idea of what they should do.  Although his first impulse was to go to the police, he was soon forced to remember the nature of his enemy.  John Malcolm was a part of a dynasty that was almost as prominent as the Kennedys. Accusing the man of a crime was tantamount to sacrilege, particularly when Aaron no proof to support his allegations.

Stuart’s death was an accident as far as everyone else was concerned. Only he and Sandra Collins knew otherwise and he seriously doubted she was going to make that statement public and implicate herself unless of course, hell really did freeze over. Thus Aaron was forced to use the only weapon he had at his disposal and that was forcing Moses to remember what it was that frightened Malcolm Industries so much that they were willing to kill them both to leave it buried in his mind.

“How do you feel?” Aaron asked Moses as he sat before Moses who was nestled comfortably in an armchair within their motel room.

“Rested,” the man muttered somewhat dazed.

“Good,” Aaron replied with a soft voice.  It was easy enough to put Moses in the hypnotic state because the old man trusted him and a large part of the exercise was the willingness to trust someone enough to open up your inner most psyche to his ministrations.   “There’s a flight of stairs where you are, you need to climb them.”

“Stairs,” Moses nodded, his eyes were closed and his voice sounded heavy with drowsiness.

“Are you walking up those stairs?” Aaron asked, setting the stage for Moses to unlock the memories his conscious mind barred from him.

“Yes,” he answered dreamily, “I’m walking up the stairs.”

“There’s a door waiting for you Moses,” Aaron continued to speak in his soothing tone.

“I can see it,” Moses replied, his eyelids fluttering a little as he added further, “I am afraid of it.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Aaron said automatically since this was the usual response of most people when they were about to take this step of the hypnosis. “I’m going to right there with you and I won’t let anything happen to you. You can trust me Moses,” he added, surprising himself by how much he meant it.

“I know,” he nodded slowly. “I could always trust you, Strider.”

Aaron blinked, momentarily thrown by the sudden remark, “who is Strider, Moses?”

“You are,” Moses answered, “you have always been Strider. You were Strider before you were anything else.”

Aaron was confused but he did not wish to press Moses further when he was in such a vulnerable state.  The doctor filed away the conversation for further reference and continued with the hypnosis, “Moses, you need to go through that door.”

“I need to go through that door,” he repeated in his stupor.

“When you go through that door, you will step into the past.  You will be able to remember everything about that past.  All you need to do is step through and if you feel at all uncomfortable, you just have to tell me and we’ll leave together, okay Moses?” Aaron asked.

“Yes Strider,” he muttered again, “together.”

“Are you through the door?” Aaron inquired once more.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Where are you?” The doctor asked, taking note of every action his patient was displaying.

“On the street, it is very cold,” Moses replied, his teeth chattering a little as spoke. The hands resting on the armrests of the chair were now folded as if he were trying to shield himself from the icy weather he was experiencing in his mind. “I know a mission where they serve warm soup, I want to go there.”

“Okay,” Aaron saw no reason why they could not let this play out for the moment, “how long have you been living on the streets Moses?”

“A long time,” he replied. “So long I cannot remember when it began.  I think I have been like this for many years.”

“Why do you say that Moses?”

“Because I remember when people still rode around in carriages, with horses pulling them wherever they wanted to go. You could wander the streets and not worry about being run over or noisy horns screaming at you to leave the roads.  In those days, the roads belong to everyone, not merely the wealthy or the influential.  Even the displaced like myself could walk the paths and still be master of his own journey.  It was a more civilised age when the air smelled sweeter, not full of chemicals and poisons that came with automobiles. I remember when I saw the first one and thought that it would never catch on but I have been wrong before….”

Aaron paused a moment to consider what Moses was saying and decided the old man must be expressing some latent delusions because Moses may have appeared old but he certainly could not have been wandering the streets as a derelict before the advent of cars.

“Moses, we’re going to go back a little further now,” Aaron decided that this particular phase of Moses’ life was telling them nothing.  He could have asked the patient his name but instinct told him to leave that question alone for the moment.  During their sessions, Moses had been his most agitated when Aaron probed deeply into his identity.  Whatever trauma had brought about Moses’ amnesia, it was closely linked to the man’s sense of self and his name. 

”I want you to go back to a time when you were not wandering the streets,” Aaron spoke after a few seconds, “to the time when you first met John Malcolm.”

Moses seemed to twitch uncomfortably, making Aaron question the wisdom of asking him such a question because his eyeballs were moving faster behind his lids, Aaron could trace their moments even in the dim light of their motel room.  Moses had placed his hands on the armrests once again but his nails were digging into the fabric.  Aaron could see the muscles of his neck tighten into chords of taut flesh and his jaw clenched as if he were fighting to restrain himself.

“I saw him,” Moses said smouldering with anger. 

Aaron felt a chill running through his skin and for a moment, he could have sworn that the shadows in the room seemed to have grown somehow. The room did not look dingy but rather cavernous, as if it was transforming to correspond with Moses’ dark mood.  It was not the first time that Aaron experienced the occurrence and when he looked at Moses, his patient did not look old or frail. His voice took on a quality of command that demanded respect from those listening to him. 

“Tell me about it,” Aaron nudged gently even though his insides were beginning to knot with uneasiness.

“He was standing at the foot of that terrible place, like a god about to take possession of his kingdom. I was not far wrong though no one would believe if they knew what I did.  He has a new body now but I know it is Malcolm. I have become accustomed to his changes.  He has surrounded himself with devout followers that ensure his secret does not escape and those who know the truth without permission, die.”

Aaron felt his heart pounding at the chilling words Moses was speaking, having no idea how much of this was delusion and how much of it was real.  “What do you mean by Malcolm having a new body?”

“Exile depleted much of his power,” Moses continued to speak. “When they banished him, they ensured he would never be able to take corporeal shape again but he has found a way to escape that limitation.  All he needs to continue in a new body, is to infuse his dark soul into an infant still slumbering in its mother’s womb. Once his soul is gone from his present receptacle, the body dies and he is born again, as heir and successor to his own empire.”

Aaron listened but he could not believe.  He did not want to believe. This was Moses’ delusion. It had to be.  Everything he knew about science and the world, refused to let him believe something like this could be true but if it was not, then why was Malcolm Industries so determined to get their hands on Moses?   Aaron considered the history of the Malcolm family and how little was known about them despite their prominence in the American culture.  They were like royalty in the same way that the Kennedys, the Rockfellers and the Vanderbilts once were.  While the sordid histories of all those families were a source of fascination to the rest of the world, the Malcolms had remained surprisingly untouched by the media.

The only time the family allowed the press near them was when it was time to announce a marriage or the birth of a new Malcolm. More often than not, this would usually be followed by a tragic death of the senior Malcolm.  It was a curiosity but not one that could be proven as foul play since it was something that had been recurring for the past 100 years. It was like the Kennedy curse but less noticeable.  If Moses was to be believed then the person who inherited the Malcolm fortune for the past four generations was the same man.  The idea of it impacted on Aaron’s mind with the same effect as all the air draining out of his lungs.

“Moses, how do you know this?” Aaron asked softly, hiding how shaken he was despite his determination to believe this was nothing but nonsense. “How can you be sure that John Malcolm isn’t just another man?” 

“Because it was my duty to find out the truth,” Moses replied, “I was sent here to find the source of darkness. We all felt it, even as removed as we were from this world, we felt him coming.  The task was given to me because I had once battled the evils of the past and aided in his defeat. They thought I could do it again.”

“Who are you Moses?” Aaron finally asked because now more than ever, it was necessary that they know.  He needed something tangible to prove that this was all some fanciful story that Moses’ subconscious mind was feeding him to keep him away from the real trauma that had caused his amnesia.

Moses looked at him but the doctor was certain that Moses was not seeing his doctor but someone else entirely, “you know me Strider. You have known me for far longer than most men your age.  You know my name.”

“No I don’t,” Aaron repeated himself. “I need to know Moses, if I am to help you, I must know your name.”

“All right then,” Moses frowned as if the question was annoying and a waste of his time. “My name is…”

Moses never completed the sentence because he burst into an ear-piercing scream.  It was a cry that could only be described as being torn from someone in excruciating agony.  Moses fairly toppled out of the chair as he convulsed in pain, his hands flying towards his head as he howled so loudly that the sound cut through Aaron’s ears and his mind in quick succession.  However, that was not the worst of it.  His scream coincided with the sudden rumbling of the walls.  Aaron had been in Los Angeles during a quake and though it was one of the lesser tremors, it was completely ecclipsed by what he was experiencing inside the room. 

Light globes brightened with powerful surges of electricity before shattering completely, sending glass in all directions.  Inside the bathroom, faucets exploded free from ceramic, with jets of water spraying forth from broken and exposed pipes.  Furniture rattled around the room, chairs and lamp stands toppled over themselves, while larger pieces like beds and tables shuddered across the floor.   Aaron’s eyes widened in astonishment as glasses shattered, picture frames clattered to the floor having broken loose from their hooks and joining the growing pile of debris. 

Throughout all this pandemonium, Moses was still screaming. His convulsions had driven him to the floor where he was lying on back, writhing in agony.  Aaron recovered his senses enough move, hurrying to the old man’s side as everything around them appeared to be tearing himself apart.  Aaron did not know what to think and did not want to address what was happening, not until he helped Moses from whatever dark place the old man had entered in his mind to precipitate such agony.

“Moses!” Aaron cried out, pulling his patient to a sitting position, not that was an easy feat in itself since Moses’ fingers were still clawing at his hair. “Moses, find the door! Find the door in your mind! Listen to my voice, Moses. It’s me, Aaron.  Follow my voice back to the door!”

Moses struggled a little bit more and then the convulsions began to slow, inciting Aaron to continue speaking, to lead him down the stairs away from the memories that had caused him so much pain.  “Just listen to my voice, Moses.  You’re leaving it all behind.  There’s only the door in front of you. Go to it, I’m there on the other side.”

“Door,” Moses muttered, his spasms becoming less violent by the second.

“Come through Moses, come through and shut it behind you,” Aaron said finally, trying to sound calm even though his voice was cracking a little.

Suddenly the tremors and the shuddering stopped.  Furniture hit the floor in mid tremor, creating a final explosion of sound.  The room was in darkness, with only the illumination of the buildings outside their window and the moon itself giving enough light for him to see the destruction left in its wake.  He could still hear the jets of water spewing from the damaged pipes and the feel the vibration in his bones.  Moses had all but stopped shaking now and Aaron surveyed the damage before him, realising that whatever had happened was connected to the old man, as impossible as it seemed.  The chaos of the past few minutes had been because Moses made it happen. 

Aaron was shaking himself, having not realised it until the insanity had passed and even then, he felt like had had woken up from a terrible dream and was trying to decide whether or not what he had seen was real.  Unfortunately, he was not dreaming and this whole incident with its nightmarish implications was all too real.

“Jesus Christ,” the doctor whispered to himself even though he knew God had nothing to do with this.

************ 

“Well this is it,” Eve remarked as she opened the door to the house her father had left her upon his death. 

It was an old colonial style house that was much too big for just one person and while Eve could probably get a decent price for it if she ever decided to sell, there was a part of her that could not bear to imagine it in the hands of anyone else.  She and her brother Darien had grown up in this house. The pencil marks of their growth spurts were still on the doorway where her father had marked them so proudly and the house was filled with memories Eve was unwilling to let go.  Her mother had died of cancer when she was ten and her father lasted a year longer than Darien.  He never was quite the same after her brother had been killed and all Eve had left of those happy years was this house. 

Leading her unexpected guests into the place, Eve wondered whether or not she had taken complete leave of her senses. She had been asking this question of herself repeatedly ever since she chose to rescue these men from lock up.  Eve had no idea why she was risking her career on three strangers she had never laid eyes upon before but all her instincts said that what she was doing was the right thing.  She felt compelled to help them and though she did not know why, she also knew unconsciously that they would not harm her.

The three men followed her into the living room, looking about them with clear fascination.  Eve wished she understood what they were saying because she was drawing conclusions about them that did not make sense.  It was as if they were seeing everything for the first time. The reaction to the car had been one of outright fear and throughout most of the journey to the house, she had seen apprehension in their faces at being forced to ride in the vehicle.  It was only toward the end of the trip, when the realisation that they were not going to their deaths in her beloved T-bird did they start to feel a little easier about being in the thing.

Although they spoke among themselves and tried to make some effort to converse with her, Eve could not even begin to fathom the language they were speaking.  They looked as if they had stepped out of another time and she was certain that whatever they were speaking, she would be hard pressed to find a translator.  Being unable to speak to them frustrated her because her curiosity at who they were and where they had come from was overwhelming, particularly after that strange episode in the precinct room.

They were spreading throughout the room with unbridled fascination, studying everything closely.  The two brothers seemed to congregate in front of the mantelpiece studying the framed family photographs with deep interest. 

“That’s my brother,” Eve walked over to the two of them, noticing how they were staring at Darien’s picture.

They looked at her blankly, not understanding at first before Eve decided that she would have to find some other way to explain herself.  She thought quickly for a moment before coming up with an idea. 

”Brothers,” she tapped Elladan and Elrohir’s chest in quick sequence. Then she tapped her own chest and the image in the picture, “brother.”

Elladan nodded in understanding and tried the word on for size, “ber..other,” he said.

“Brother,” she repeated slowly so he could hear the subtleties of the word’s pronunciation.

“Brother,” he replied and then reached for her hand and pressed it against his chest and then against Elrohir’s.  “Brother.”

At first she did not comprehend what they were saying or how it could be possible. She started to pull away, shaking her head because she was certain that they were mistaken, that in her efforts to translate, they had confused the meaning of the word. 

“No,” she replied a little shaken but then remembered the images of her vision. She remembered that other world version of herself, the one that looked like a fairy princess in some fantasy realm and recalled the feelings of  love and affection she had felt these men.  It was not romantic love but something warmer, something familiar, like she had felt in her own reality for her parents and Darien.

“Brothers,” Elladan repeated himself while next to him, Elrohir nodded in confirmation.

“That’s not possible,” Eve muttered until she saw something she had not noticed earlier.

In their flight from the precinct, she had not paid close attention and would have missed it now if it were not for the fact that Legolas was tilting his head back, draining the contents of the Coke bottle.  His long blond hair fell away from ears and Eve’s eyes widened in shock as she saw them for the first time.  She pulled away from Elladan and Elrohir, crossing the floor in seconds to reach Legolas. 

The elf stared at the woman approaching him quickly, his expression showing his puzzlement as she paused in front of him and suddenly extended her hands towards him. Suppressing the urge to pull away, Legolas allowed Eve to reach for his ear.  Her expression revealed her shock as her fingers glided over the soft skin, following the shape of the ear to its inevitable point.  She appeared a little startled when she finally did touch it, pulling her fingers back as if afraid.  However, the hesitation passed and she scrutinized his other ear just as closely.  When the same sight greeted her, Eve turned her attention to Elladan and Elrohir.  The brothers who now knew what she was about, decided they could not conceal the truth from her any longer and brushed the hair from around their ears and confirmed her suspicions.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, “you’re Vulcans.”

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

 
”I think we should not have revealed ourselves so soon,” Elladan remarked as they stared concerned at Eve who was sitting on her sofa pouring herself a very tall glass of what was almost certainly some strong spirit. 

“We did not show ourselves,” Elrohir stared at Legolas, “someone who shall remain nameless within our company chose a most inopportune time to indulge his sudden addiction to a bottled drink.”

“I was thirsty!” Legolas protested as he guiltily put down the bottle that was responsible for their present situation. “Besides, I do not believe it is fair to hide from her what we are, considering the fact that we owe her our freedom.”

“She appears rather shaken by what she has learnt though,” Elladan said looking upon his sister’s reincarnation with worry. Even though she was human, Elladan could not see the woman before him as anything but his beloved sister,  Arwen Evenstar.  It surprised him how easily old habits returned, even after so many years of being without her in his life.  The natural inclination to protect his younger sister was still as strong as ever and even though Eve had difficulty believing that they were family, Elladan did not. 

“I doubt the race of men even know what we are,” Elrohir retorted as he saw Eve raise the glass to her lips and drain the contents with the efficiency of a Gondorian drunkard.

“I wish she could speak,” Legolas sighed. “She could help us find Mithrandir if only she understood a word we were saying.”

“We are simply going to have to learn,” Elladan retorted. “The speech of men was always simple, I do not think it will be all that difficult to learn.  After all, we taught them to speak.”

 Legolas gave Elladan a look and remarked, “just as well since there was little we could teach them about humility.”

In the meantime, Eve had downed the glass of scotch she kept in the house for occasions like this, although in all truth, she could not remember the last time she had invited three men home who happened to have pointed ears. Men, she snorted, they weren’t men.  Okay, so they weren’t Vulcans either.  Vulcans did not get picked up off the coast of Bay Shore by the Coast Guard or carried weapons that were straight out of the Middle Ages. The closest definition she could reach about the origins of her guest were that they were elves and that made utterly no sense, she might as well be calling them fairies, although she was certain faeries came with wings. She did not see any wings on them so she decided that they had to the latter.  

She also decided her thoughts were rambling. 

Elves. What did she know about elves? Other than their origins in Teutonic mythology, very little. In high school, she had gone through a phase where the fanciful tales of world mythology had fascinated her. In Teutonic mythology, elves were servants of the Norse god Frey and lived in a place called Alfheim.  However the legends were vague and difficult to pin down to any one culture.  They appeared in  Celtic, Germanic, and Scandinavian myths. In the dark ages, Anglo-Saxon Christians in England looked upon elves as dangerous creatures capable of harming humans.  However, certain characteristic survived despite all the different accounts of the creatures and that was their luminous beauty and their pointed ears. ”This is insane,” Eve started talking to herself. “I have elves in my house.  What next? Leprechauns?”

The three looked at her sympathetically, seeming to understand that she was rather overwhelmed by the discovery of what they were. 

“If you’re so supposed to be magical beings, how come you can’t understand a word I’m saying?” She demanded and was unsurprised when the trio stared at her blankly. 

Suddenly the phone rang and while this was not an occurrence that normally caused much panic in the McCaughley household, the ringing tone had the same effect upon her guests as the car engine reving unexpectedly.    All three appeared as if they might jump out of their skin and since they were now armed, immediately took a defensive posture with swords drawn and bows being loaded.

”CALM DOWN!” Eve shouted, gesturing wildly as she hurried to the phone before it got smashed to pieces with the business end of a sword.

“Hello!” She spoke into the receiver after snatching it off the hook with one hand while trying to convey to the trio that there was no danger.

“Detective McCaughley?” A familiar voice responded.

Eve recognised the voice as belonging to junior detective Ken Harper, “Harper? Is that you?”

“Yes ma’am,” Harper’s voice responded politely. “You ask me to run a financial check on Richard Falstaff?”

“Oh yes,” Eve declared, realising that despite the bizarre events of her day, there was still the matter of the murder case she had been trying to solve.  “I remember. Did you find anything?”

“I sure did,” Harper replied. “I got a friend of mine to pull some strings and she got access to his bank records, the ones his wife and the government did not know about. It seems Mr Falstaff was making a salary in the six digits. Too much I think for a senior accountant.”

“I agree,” Eve nodded, ignoring the puzzled expressions on the faces before her at the conversation she was having with a  piece of plastic that was only a minute ago, making a dreadful sound.  “I think I need to go talk to Mr Malcolm again.  Thanks Harper, I’ll talk to you later.”

Eve hung up the phone, rather pleased that she finally had something tangible to prove that John Malcolm was lying to her.  For the moment however, she replaced the phone on its hook and returned to her immediate problem.

“Okay, first things first, let’s put down the weapons” she placed her hand across Elladan’s own and lowered the sword in his hand to a less defensive posture.  The others followed suit soon after and Eve was about to relax when she took note of something else and approached Legolas.

“Secondly,” she retorted intercepting the bottle of Coke he was reaching for, “stop drinking this stuff.  You’ll rot your teeth.”

************ 

This was a mistake and he knew it but Aaron could not stay away.

The rain was beating down relentlessly on the cemetery lawn, creating a sheathe of grey that seemed to turn the landscape into a watercolour of grey shades melting into each other.  Despite the weather, a sizeable gathering had appeared for Stuart Farmer’s funeral.  The space where he would be laid to rest forever was surrounded in a bloom of black umbrellas.  The mourners were both teachers and students who on this occasion shared mutual grief for their fallen friend.  The mood was sombre as the preacher performed the ritual of sending which was more for the benefit of those left behind then that of the dearly departed.  Aaron should have been there to deliver the eulogy but his absence had forced the duty upon the dean of the university.

Aaron listened a good distance away, taking refuge behind a particularly large monument to some poor forgotten soul, allowing his tears to flow as he mourned privately for his best friend.  He wished he could join the others because he needed to feel the kinship with those who would miss Stuart as much as he.  Aaron honestly did not know how his life was going to be without Stuart and felt the pangs of guilt coursing through him, strengthen with an intensity that was almost back breaking.  This should not have happened, Aaron thought to himself.  Choices like this were forced upon people who mattered in the world, not a psychiatrist trying to do his job by helping a patient.

He felt the rain soak into his skin and the chill biting at the bone but he could not leave, not until the service was done.  It was the least he could do for Stuart since Aaron was the reason that the professor was dead.  When he had left Moses at the motel, the old man had questioned greatly his decision to go.  On some level, Aaron knew that Moses was right, that it was dangerous for him to be here.  However, he could not bring himself to be absent from Stuart’s funeral, especially when he was responsible for his best friend’s death  As a psychiatrist, he knew the folly of blaming oneself for things that were out of his control. Yet Aaron knew that he should have considered the consequences more before he refused Sandra Collin’s offer.

Stop it, he told himself quite forcefully, he could not have foreseen the actions that would be taken for his refusal and now that he was aware of why Moses was wanted so badly by them, he knew that despite Stuart’s death, he did the right thing. After bringing Moses out of his hypnotic state, Aaron had ferried the old man into his car and fled the motel before anyone could discover what catastrophe had befallen the room. Although part of him wanted to believe that it was an isolated earthquake, that everything he had seen was just some seismic aberration, he knew that it was a lie.  Moses had made it happen.

As a psychiatrist and a trained analyst, he thought he had seen everything but never once did he see a patient’s mood manifest into a physical force that could effect his environment. He knew what telekinesis was, beyond its portrayal in pop culture.  Although once considered nonsense, it was rapidly gaining some legitimacy because of the cases that could not be disproved. There were people who could bend spoons, set fire to things and shatter glass. Moses however had surpassed that and more.  He would have been a parapsychologists dream if Aaron could believe he was simply telekinetic, which the doctor did not.

Moses was something else and Aaron was starting to get the feeling that he was way over his head.

Wiping the water from his eyes, he continued to observe the proceedings and saw Stuart’s family and wished he could offer words of comfort.  What they must be thinking of him for his absence, Aaron thought grimly.  He knew he could not remain long either because if they were searching for him, then attending the funeral may not be something they could discount and if what Moses had said was true, then John Malcolm would never stop searching until he found them both.  Aaron started to consider the possibility that it may be necessary to leave the city.

Strangely enough the idea of abandoning Moses to Malcolm never crossed Aaron’s mind although he knew his life would be simpler if he did.  Moses kept calling him these different names, names Aaron knew were of people he trusted deeply. Where was this Strider? Was it even a person? Strider seemed like such an odd name but Moses had used it with such trust in his voice.  Perhaps if they found this Strider, they could learn what had happened to the old man and better yet, how to stop this despite the fact that Aaron was still fuzzy on what this was.

When the flotilla of umbrellas began to disperse, Aaron turned away from the funeral and made his way out of the cemetery using the worn pathway through the gravestones.  He had to get back to Moses and decide upon their next move.  He had a place upstate in the town of Goshen near Bear Mountain that he stayed at whenever he wanted to go fishing or get away from it all.  It was hardly luxurious but it was remote and functional enough to serve as a sanctuary while he decided what he was going to do about his present situation.

Rounding the corner of a particularly ornate headstone that came with angels perched on a dais with wings outstretched, Aaron froze as he ran straight into Sandra Collins and at least four men in dark suits.  His first impulse was to run but when he turned, he found that there were men behind him as well and whatever effort he made to escape would be futile.

“Doctor Stone, you are a difficult man to find,” Sandra Collins said with a sickening smile of triumph on her face.

It was a smile Aaron was rather happy to wipe off her face with a hard right across her jaw.  Although he was not one to hit women, in fact he was not one to hit anybody, Aaron was not a sexist either and was willing to make an exception to the rule. The blow to her face was hard enough to send her reeling and swiftly prompted her entourage to set upon Aaron.  Fortunately, their very public arena made a protracted beating unwise so he only suffered a return punch to his face and a jab to the stomach that doubled him over in pain.

“Well, I suppose we can dispense with the pleasantries. Take him to the car,” Sandra declared after straightening herself up and wiping the blood from her torn lip. She appeared not at all angry about being struck but rather as if it was business as usual.  Her indifference was more unnerving than her ability to have his friends killed, Aaron thought.

“I won’t give you anything,” Aaron hissed.

“You will,” she smiled cruelly. “Before the night is over. You will.”

************* 

Eve drove the Malcolm Building, determined to get some kind of answer from John Malcolm.  Armed with the paperwork she picked up from Harper earlier today, Eve was determined to confront Malcolm in his lie and get the truth about what Falstaff did for him.  While she was uncertain of the extent of Malcolm’s complicity in Richard Falstaff’s death, she did not know the man was lying to her and was taking great pains to hide it.  How he reacted to being caught out in a lie was going to be of great assistance to her. 

In the meantime, Eve had contacted INS and informed they dutifully that the three prisoners had managed to escape whilst on route to the INS offices. Although she suspected she would suffer some consequences for this, it was a good deal better than telling INS that she had them stashed at her house.  Considering the bizarre report already filed by the Coast Guard, it did not surprise her when INS said they would look into this themselves and did not admonish her too badly for it.  Apparently the three men were making it a habit of escaping the clutches of government officials since their arrival in the United States.

Still she was glad to get out of the house.  There was only so much of naming everything she could handle before she was inspired to find her gun. Although truth be known, they learnt surprisingly quickly and had extended their vocabulary in a matter of hours to more than a dozen words.  There was a part of her brain that refused to accept that they could be elves even if their actions proved it more effectively than their ears.  Everything fascinated them, from her clock radio to the contents of  the refrigerator.  She did not know how late she stayed up trying to explain things with hand signals. In the end, she gave up and turned on the television set, giving them a quick instruction on how to work the remote.

She was unsurprised to find them still in front of the thing when she woke up the next morning.

Elladan and Elrohir were still convinced they were family though Eve could not even begin to imagine how that could be. Unfortunately, she could not deny the feelings of familial bond she had for the duo and she could not explain in any better than she could explain the need to rescue them from a jail cell. In any case, she decided to concentrate on the more conventional problem of Richard Falstaff’s murder.

She parked her car across the parking lot entry to the monolith, trying to decide what was the best way to approach the man.  The Monolith disappeared into the clouds relatively quickly when she looked through the windshield at the imposing structure. The weather had made the cumulous clouds heavy and the fog of white and grey mist obscured the top of the building.  The rain was beating down heavily on the canvas of the T Bird’s roof.  It provided a comfortable buffer from the odd sensations she was feeling of late, particularly when she was in any kind of proximity to this building.

She was about to make a move when suddenly, she saw a long black limousine driving into the ramp leading to the parking lot beneath the Monolith.  If that was Malcolm, it would make things much simpler than having to confront him in his office and honestly, she would prefer to avoid any situation that required her getting into the elevator.  Putting the T-Bird into gear, she followed the car in, staying a suitable distance to ensure that Malcolm did not see her so that he could try and avoid her.

The parking lot was literally empty at this time of the day with most of the staff having left for the evening.  She parked first so that the limo driver would be too concerned with fitting the stretched vehicle into the reserve parking spot to notice her.  Eve kept her eye on where the limo had gone and proceeded towards it once she had the T Bird squared away for the duration.  As she walked across the floor of car park, she could hear the limousine’s engines cutting out. 

“Get your hands off me!” She heard the angry voice of a man shout in protest.

The parking lot’s cavernous structure ensured his voice echoed so Eve heard clearly the scuffle that followed shortly after and the sound of fists slapping flesh.  Immediately, she went for her gun and her approach took on altogether different advance. Her movements became stealthy and she heard more voices attempting to contain the situation. It did not take long for the limo and its occupants to come into sight.

She recognised Sandra Collins and the suits the woman had working for her. She had seen these men when she was making her investigation in the building.  The only person she did not recognise was a tall and handsome dark haired man dressed in jeans and a sleeved t-shirt who was clearly unhappy to be there.  The suits were holding onto him tight and she saw traces of blood on his lip.  It took Eve but a split second to interpret what was going on and another a second to act. She wanted to do so while they were out in the open like this when she had some chance of preventing harm from befalling their hostage.

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

“Restrain him,” Sandra said sharply as Aaron tried to make another effort to break free.

The goon holding him produced a gun and held it to his head.  The man did not speak but the click of the gun hammer was capable of conveying volumes regarding Aaron’s continued existence if he struggled any further.

“Doctor Stone,” Sandra came up to him and said with a cold smile, “we are doing this with or without cooperation. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll tell us what we need to know and we’ll avoid the unpleasantness of more persuasive methods. However, you are not leaving until you tell us where your patient is.”

“Go to hell,” Aaron spat in her face.

“Bastard!” She lashed out and hit him across the face.

Aaron shook of the blow easily and glared at her with defiance. “I know what Malcolm is,” he said staring her dead in the eyes, “I know that he is the same person, that he changes bodies every so often.  That’s why you want Moses isn’t it? Because he knows.”

Sandra’s indifferent mask shook slightly at the revelation and she hit him again, this time with more venom and rage. “You had a chance to come out of this alive Doctor,” she retorted, her voice became low and menacing.  “You should have taken it.  It does not matter what you tell us now, you are not going to tell anyone about Mr. Malcolm.”

“I didn’t know anything,” Aaron returned swiftly. “I thought Moses was insane but you proved it. You proved he was right. Malcolm is some kind of freak!”

“Kill him!” Sandra fairly roared. “He is of no use to us and too much of a liability!”

“Halt!” A new voice came into the mix and brought a new urgency to the situation. “NYPD!”

All their eyes were fixed upon a woman approaching them slowly with a gun pointed in their direction.  Although she had identified herself as a policewoman, she was not wearing the uniform, rather clad in a long dark coat with dark jeans and a crisp untucked white shirt. The badge clipped onto her belt clearly indicated the shield of a New York Police officer.  He had seen enough of them in the psychiatric ward to know the difference.  Aaron never thought he could be so grateful to see anyone in his life.

“Officer McCaughley,” Sandra turned to his saviour. “You have the worst timing. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll walk away from this.”

“Sir,” the woman ignored Sandra and spoke directly to the gunmen holding Aaron hostage, “let the man go.”

“Or what?” Sandra asked her defiantly.

“Or I’ll be forced to take measures to protect him,” she replied shortly

“I don’t think you will,” Sandra said smugly.

The policewoman did not answer and promptly pulled the trigger.

The bullet was so close, Aaron heard it whiz past his ear.  Through the ringing in his eardrums, he heard the groan of the man holding him, shortly followed by the slacking of his grip.  Aaron broke free and saw him on the floor, clutching the bloody wound near his shoulder.  Aaron was impressed by her marksmanship. Her shot was intended to sever the nerves controlling the motor reflexes of the hand holding the gun. 

No sooner than she had fired, she had re-targeted and this time her gun was aimed squarely at Sandra Collins. 

“Sir, walk towards me,” she ordered and Aaron was not about to argue. He took cautious steps to the lovely brunette, aware that the situation was poised on a knife’s edge.

This could still get bloody.

*************** 

Eve could tell that she had stumbled upon something important or more specifically someone important. Sandra had been angry enough to order him shot right in the middle of a parking lot.  Granted, this was still the premises of Malcolm’s private fortress but it was a risk nonetheless.  Eve had to question this man and find out what he knew which she had a feeling was about more than just about Richard Falstaff’s death.   Reaching into her pockets, she pulled out her car keys as he approached, aware that Sandra’s men were most likely armed and the only reason they had not produced their weapons yet was because she was aiming her gun at their boss.  Unfortunately, she had a feeling the indecision would not last.

“There’s a blue T Bird parked back there,” Eve said to the man as he approached her. “Get in and start the engine.” She tossed him the keys with one hand while the other was still fixed  on Sandra.

He grabbed it with one and nodded mutely before asking, “what about you?”

“Just get going!” she barked and shifted her gaze from Sandra long enough to add, “NOW!”

Unfortunately, it was a distraction she could not afford because no sooner than she took her eyes off Sandra, the other men went for their guns and they were not held back by any desire to keep the situation from escalating in a gun fight.

The first shot slammed into the column behind her and Eve opened fire, directing her shots at Sandra who went running for cover behind the limousine. Taking advantage of their desire not to shoot the woman in the exchange of gunfire, the gunmen paused long enough to give Eve the opening she needed to run.

“Come on!” She shouted at her new companion who was taking cover, reluctant to leave her but uncertain of what to do either.  She admired his loyalty if not his sense.

Running as fast as they could with Malcolm’s men soon falling into pursuit, Eve took the lead as she hurried to her car.  She probably should have called for back up but she did not dream that she would be entering such a volatile situation when she drove into the parking lot.  Reaching the car, she could hear the revving of engines starting from elsewhere in the structure, telling Eve that if their pursuers did not catch up to them on foot, they would do so by car.

“You drive!” Eve ordered when they reached the vehicle.

“Are you sure?” He looked at her puzzled.

“Do you want to be the one to shoot?” She asked sharply.

“I’ll drive,” he retorted and proceeded to unlock the doors.  Sliding into the driver’s seat of the car, he opened her door before sliding the key into the ignition. 

Eve promptly jumped into the passenger seat, feeling a little strange to see someone else driving her car but the situation warranted it.  He seemed to know what he was doing though and the engine came alive as she saw three of Sandra’s men running towards them, all armed.

“Get us out of here now!” She ordered as she saw them raise their gun to fire.

“What do you think I’m doing!” He shouted as he slammed his foot against the accelerator and the car lunged forward, a tonne of good old-fashioned American steel roaring toward their pursuers with more speed than he could control. One of them flew towards the windshield, a making a blunt thud against the smooth finish of metal and causing Eve to flinch at the damage to her bodywork. He clung there as the T Bird swung around in a tight circle, prying loose his grip and sent him tumbling to the concrete floor.

A gunshot shattered the back window of the car and Eve cursed loudly before let off another series of shots from her automatic.  She was not aiming to kill but directed her bullets close enough to make the two men retreat in caution.  In the meantime, the T Bird was surging up the sharp incline of the car park ramp, taking them to the main street.   However, Eve could see the black limousine screeching through the underground structure in pursuit.

“Where are we going?” He asked.

“Police station would be a good bet right now,” she replied as she reached across to the glove box. 

“Thank Christ,” he muttered under his breath. “If you hadn’t come along, I don’t think I was going to get out there alive!”

“Who the hell are you anyway?” Eve asked as she grabbed the box of shells she kept there and reloaded her gun. She had an idea that she would be needing the extra ammunition.

“Aaron Stone,” he answered as the car made a bumpy return to the main street. “I’m a doctor.”

“What did you overcharge them or something?” She asked not really thinking because her mind was more firmly focussed on the limousine that was following them and would most likely be accompanied by other faster moving vehicles depending on how determined they were to catch up.

“I’m a psychiatrist,” Aaron replied as he tried to remember where the nearest police station was from here.   “They want a patient of mine.”

“Why?” She glanced at him briefly before her eyes moved to the rear view mirror.

Aaron paused, unwilling to tell her the truth because she would think he was insane.  Fortunately, he did not have to because the limousine behind them was catching up and through the glare of headlights, he could see the figure half hanging out of its window had a gun that looked too much like an Uzi. 

“Get your head down!” Eve shouted as the shooter opened fire.  A hail of bullets shattered the back windscreen and prompted Aaron to press the accelerator down even further, forcing the T Bird to tear through the streets like a bat out of hell.

The limousine sped up to match their speed but could not keep up.  However, Eve caught sight of two other vehicles forging ahead with just as much determination and saw knew the cars chasing them were no longer just one but three.  The T Bird was racing through the rainy streets, barely avoiding collision with other cars and blaring its horn in an effort to warn pedestrians from the street who might unwittingly wander into the path of the chase.  Eve leaned out of her window and fired at the limousine that was still the nearest vehicle behind them.  She aimed low, hoping to hit the crankcase or perhaps if she was lucky, the tires.

 “Shoot the tires!” Aaron called out as he tried to see through the shattered windshield before him.

“What the hell do you I’m doing?” Eve barked in exasperation. “Its not like on TV you know!”

“Sorry!” Aaron apologised as he swerved into another lane to avoid slowing down.

Eve did not have time to accept his apology for she was pulling herself into the compartment again, avoiding the bullets being fired in her direction.  She checked her ammunition and prayed that she would have enough bullets to fend off their attacker because whatever it was that Doctor Stone knew about Malcolm Industries, it was perfectly clear to her now that they were willing to kill both of them for it.

Chapter Five
Fail Safe 

A short scream tore through his ears as a woman and her boyfriend back onto the shoulder of the road when they saw the headlights of the T Bird bearing down on them with through the rain.  Aaron smashed his fist against the horn, hoping that the sound alone would be enough to warn them away to safety.  It was difficult to see the road ahead when his head was bent low against the steering wheel in an effort to avoid being hit by the hail of bullets that was being fired at them from the limousine pursuing them with such relentless desire.

His new companion was managing to keep her calm a good deal better than he was and he could not help watch in fascination as her deft hands moved over her police issue handgun, sliding another magazine into the self loading weapon.  Even though she had not said it, he could tell that she was beginning to get worried. The cache of ammunition in her glove box was starting to run low and they were nowhere close to ridding themselves of their pursuers.  When she leaned out the window of car to fire off more shots, Aaron instinctively pulled the car from the shoulder of the road to ensure she was clear of any parked cars.

His eyes alternated from the road and from the woman who had saved his life.  Despite himself and their situation, Aaron could not help but feel a little awed by her. She was in his opinion one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.  It was not the kind of beauty enjoyed by the supermodel set but something that conveyed elegance and grace, even when she was half hanging out of a car, firing her weapon with deadly accuracy. Aaron hoped that they would survive long enough for him to know her better because quite frankly, she could be the one person he could confide in about what was happening to him.

They were fast running out of road and Aaron wished he knew where the local precinct was.  Keeping ahead of their pursuers had not left him much time to navigate, he had been racing through the streets, trying to avoid the bullets and not given much thought to where they were going. He did not know this part of town and was pushing the T Bird to its very limits just trying to keep out of reach of the bullets that had shattered just about every window in the car.

Aaron swung the car around as they came to an intersection, the speed of it spinning the back section out of control on the slick tar that it slammed into a parked van and left a sizeable dent as the T Bird shuddered from the impact. The vehicle slowed down just enough for Aaron to jam his foot on the accelerator, spinning the wheels enough to send a spray of water as it surged ahead.  The van’s alarms screamed in accusation as the T Bird pulled away and continued up the street. They were fast leaving the commercial district behind and entering a heavy industrialized area with dark empty buildings.

Eve knew she had to narrow the odds against them.  She had littered the hood of the car with enough bullet holes to ensure the limousine would have trouble maintaining the chase, however she had not stopped it in its tracks. She had been trying to play it safe, to avoid the loss of life if she could but it was becoming obvious that such a desire was impossible.  She knew how well she could shoot and though the constant turns and shuddering was making it difficult to aim, she knew it was not impossible.

The gunmen who was firing at them was reloading and Eve took the opportunity to end the threat of him once and for all.  Taking aim with deep concentration, she squeezed the trigger and released a series of rapid shots with a specific target in mind.  The bullets smashed through the grill, puncturing the headlight, shattering the headlight before meeting its mark.  The tire exploded with a loud expulsion of gas.  Eve saw the front of the car dip sharply to one side followed by the sharp turn the vehicle made as it spun out of control. It swerved across the street, causing the other two cars to break sharply as the limousine cut across in front of them. The limousine slammed into a wall, forcing the hood to buckle from the impact as the body crumpled behind it.

The second car had managed to clear the disaster and keep behind them but the one behind it had slammed into the limousines tail as it swerved in front of it before the spectacular impact. The grey Ford veered sharply to avoid the collision but failed to do so. The force of the steel against steel lifted it off the wet road and lifted it onto one wheel before the momentum of its speed toppled it over.  The occupants of the only car capable of maintaining the pursuit did not pause to check on their comrades, surging through the streets with more determination to reach the T Bird.

“Nice shooting,” Aaron, declared as he saw the crash through his side mirror.

“We’re not out of trouble yet,” Eve declared as she dropped into her seat once again and checked the remaining shells in the magazine of her gun.  The grim expression on her face told Aaron immediately that her supply of ammunition was exhausted.

“You don’t have any more?” He looked at her.

“No,” she shook her head. “I think I’ve got about five shots left. It’s not going to be enough.”

Aaron noticed that they reassuring lights of a populated area had disappeared from around them and  in its place were darkened factories that were devoid of life. The streets were empty and the only people out at this time of night in this place, were not likely anyone either of them would like to meet. It was also the perfect place to dispose of a doctor and a policewoman if the occupants of the car caught up with them. As it was the roads were empty except for their pursuers. It would be hard to lose them when the headlights were a dead giveaway.

“Turn here!” Eve ordered suddenly.

Without thinking twice, Aaron swung the wheel around, forcing the T Bird through the entryway of an abandoned textile factory. The wheels screeched despite the slickness of the road and as they tumbled into the driveway, Eve reached over and switched off the headlights.

“What are you doing?” He asked, panicking when the road before him became pitch black.

“We got to lose them,” she declared. “Just slow down and see if you can hide us behind the building.”

“You think that will work?” Aaron asked, feeling very ineffectual, not to mention completely out of his depth. However he obeyed her request and took his foot off the accelerator, slowly down considerably as the T Bird rolled forward in complete darkness. Aaron strained to see the road ahead, hoping he did not drive the car into a wall.  Fortunately, he managed to navigate through the darkness enough to disappear behind the far side of the building.  Once concealed in the shadows, Aaron turned off the engines and they lapsed into silence.

“I hope so,” she whispered softly and through the sinister darkness, he could see that despite her self assured manner through all this, she was just as anxious as he.

“For what its worth, thank you for saving my life,” Aaron said gratefully.

“I may have just delayed the inevitable,” she replied, “they could and probably will find us.”

“I know,” Aaron replied, “I just wanted to thank you in case I didn’t get the chance later, Officer McCaughley was it?”

“Yeah,” she nodded with a little smile, “Eve McCaughley.”

“If we get out of this, I’ve going to have one hell of a story to tell you,” Aaron replied, his eyes watching the darkness. They could not hear the sound of the pursuing vehicle but that did not mean that it was not out there somewhere.  “Its pretty crazy though.”

She gave him a look and retorted with a slight laugh. “After the week I’ve been having, crazy is a matter of perspective.”

Suddenly, they heard the rumble of another car and fell silent though it was likely they could be heard through the low drone of engines. Aaron watched the smaller car rumble past them like a shark searching prey in the dark waters of the sea.  He wondered if Sandra Collins inside it, Sandra who was ready to shoot him without giving it a second thought, just as easily as she had Sturt killed.  In a matter of days, she and Malcolm Industries had turned his world upside down because he would not cooperate with their sinister intentions.

For so long, his world had been easy and comfortable. Reality and fantasy were too strictly delineated axioms, there was nothing in between.  As impossible as it sounded to him still, John Malcolm was not human.  He may be wearing human skin but he certainly was now and through the mystique of the supposedly dynastic lineage of the Malcolms, he had perpetuate a mechanism to acquire a new body and retain the wealth of his previous life  It was obscene and what was worse, it was true. Moses knew this and somehow, Malcolm had done something so terrible to the old man that it had buried his memories so deep it took hypnosis to surface it.

If they were to fall into the hands of the men in the car searching for them, Aaron knew that they would find someway to extract Moses’ location from him.  Aaron was not going to let them hurt him any more, not when he had seen first hand, the power the old man possessed.  He was not going to let them harm this woman either who had placed her life in jeopardy even though she nothing about him. Every now and then, when he turned to her, there was split second when he thought he knew her.  As he sat here with her in the darkness, fearing for their lives, he was struck with this feeling that it had always been this way for them. She did not feel like someone he had just met before and Aaron could not begin to say how much that unsettled him. 

“I’m not going to let them hurt you,” he said suddenly, his eyes fixed ahead, an insane plan forming in his head.

Eve was suddenly overcome by a feeling of deja vu and turned to him, They had done this before.  She did not know how she knew that but Eve felt it,   “they haven’t found us yet.”

“They will,” he replied. “They won’t stop until they do.  They killed Stuart just because I wouldn’t do what they wanted, because I would give them Moses.”

Hearing someone else being killed caught Eve’s undivided interest.  “Who is Stuart?”

“My friend,” Aaron said softly. “They wanted me to turn over Moses and when I wouldn’t, they killed him just to show me what would happen if I didn’t cooperate.”

Eve wanted to ask him more questions but the sadness in his eyes made her pause because her was touched by his sorrow.  “Don’t blame yourself for that, it wasn’t your fault. You should never blame yourself for murderers doing what they do.”

He met her gaze and said firmly, “I won’t let them harm you Eve, I won’t.”

With that, he switched on the engine and produced the low drone from the T Bird’s engines that would surely bring their captors towards them.

“What are you doing?”  She demanded.

“Getting rid of these bastards,” Aaron said with no small amount of venom.

It was less than a few seconds when he saw the body of the other car coming down the lane in front of them.  Aaron waited until the length of the vehicle was almost across the hood of the T Bird when he jammed his foot on the accelerator, causing a sharp screech of tires before the car lunged forward at top speed.  The T Bird ploughed into the side of the smaller car with such force that it drove the vehicle against the nearby wall.  Aaron heard Eve let out a short cry upon impact but he was too busy changing gears as the newer model car, made with none of the sturdiness of an early model T Bird was crushed against concrete. 

The T Bird reversed a short distance after the initial collision before Aaron pushed his foot down on the pedal again and sent it smashing into the side of the battered vehicle. The smaller car pressed closer against the concrete wall, until bits of cement shook loose.  Debris of glass and mortar littered the buckling hood of the T Bird.

“Hey!” Eve had recovered her senses enough to see that the front end of her car was being smashed into oblivion. She could picture every dent that was being inflicted upon the car as Aaron put the vehicle into reverse and prepared for another assault.

“Now would be a good time for those tires!” he declared as the engines revved as the T Bird continued forward at ramming speed.

Eve shook the astonishment and horror of his solution to their predicament and leaned out the window after Aaron had created another conclave-sized dent in the body of the car.  The doors of the sedan were bent inward now and she doubted that it was even capable of pursuing them any longer. Still it was better to be safe than sorry as she took aim of the rear tires and fired.  Three bullets escaped her gun in quick succession, rising over the noise of engines heaving at the assault and revving in its retreat. The back tyres ruptured with the first bullet, expelling gases as it back of the car sunk close to the ground as the rubber was reduced to tatters.

“If you’re done destroying my car, can we please get out of here?” Eve demanded as she eased back into hear seat.

“Anything you say officer,” he grinned and directed the car away from the wreckage of the pursuing vehicle.  Despite the damage to the T Bird, the car was remained in good shape as Aaron sped away from the scene leaving a trail of debris behind them that consisted of pieces of grill and fragments of headlight.

“Where to?” Aaron asked as they left the enemy behind them and drove back to town.

“My place,” Eve replied, letting out a sigh of relief that they had escaped, despite the damage done to her car to achieve it.  “You’re not the only one with a crazy story to tell.”

**********

Sandra Collins stood before John Malcolm and felt his gaze burning into the skin.

She had been his associate long enough to know that he could make that a reality if he wished it.  She had been in the limousine when it crashed and though she suffered no significant injuries, being unable to take part in the rest of the search had not impressed her employer when he learnt that the doctor had escaped.   However, telling Malcolm that she had been unable to capture the doctor was nothing in comparison to telling him that it appeared Doctor Stone had managed to learn something of what his patient had buried inside of him for so long.

“So you are telling me that he is now with Detective McCaughley and it is most likely that he’s told her what he knows?” Malcolm asked her as he glared at her from across his desk.

“Yes,” Sandra nodded slowly, able to see the fury in his eyes despite his outward calm.  “It will not take long to find them. We are finding out where Detective McCaughley lives even as we speak.  We will have our people there within the hour.”

“I trust you will dispose of him a good deal better than you disposed of Falstaff?” Malcolm retorted caustically.

“That was a mistake,” Sandra replied quickly, unable to shake the anxiety from her voice.  Malcolm did not take failure lightly and while he might not kill her, she had endured his punishments throughout her service to him. It was not an ordeal she particularly enjoyed since Mr. Malcolm could be quite creative in how he rewarded those who had earned his anger.

“You seem to make many of them lately,” Malcolm replied. “Richard was my financial adviser and while I have no interest in your sexual proclivities, I do object when you tell him more than you should while you are in throes of passion during your tawdry affair.”

Sandra shuddered as she remembered the punishment for that mistake.  She closed her eyes and forced away images of the spiders he had set loose upon her bare skin when she was pinned to a floor somewhere in the Monolith. She had been held down with shackles as the swarm of spiders were released over her naked body. She had remained frozen, unable to scream because she was terrified they would crawl into her mouth.  She clamped her eyes shut as she felt those spindly legs covering every inch of her. 

“I have paid for that mistake,” she swallowed thickly, meeting his gaze once she had composed herself.

“You paid for the error, the mistake lives on,” Malcolm replied. “I found you because I know your soul. You served me and mine once and you had certain successes, though I am sure you remember little of it. However, I am not as forgiving or as weak as my servant was.  Disappoint me, defy me and worst of all, challenge me and I will see you burn in a hell that will make Dante’s depiction of it positively pleasant.”

“Yes Sir,” Sandra nodded and turned on her heels to leave when Malcolm stopped her in her tracks.

“There is one other thing,” he said before she could leave. “Detective McCaughley. I want her alive.”

Sandra paused and looked up at Malcolm in confusion, “alive Sir?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “alive.”

“I don’t understand,” she met his gaze with growing puzzlement, “Detective McCaughley is determined to connect Richard’s death to us.  She should be eliminated.”

“Thanks to your incompetence in this matter, it may be necessary for me to vacate this body far sooner than I would like,” Malcolm stared at her. “If that becomes necessary, I will need a receptacle to host my rebirth. Detective McCaughley will furnish that need most effectively, so you will bring her to me alive. Is that clear?”

“Yes, perfectly,” Sandra nodded mutely, knowing better than to debate the issue with him.  No doubt once his seed was firmly planted within her body,  the policewoman’s lifespan would last just long enough for her to deliver his child.

After all, that was how it had been with all of the others.

*************** 

Eve did not know whether or not it was sensible bringing Aaron back home with her but as he told his story on the way back to the house, Eve did not see if she had much choice. If he were right then Malcolm’s men would be on their way.  Although she had trouble believing anything that he was saying about Malcolm being some kind of creature that perpetuated himself with a new body every generation or so, she also had to remember that her houseguests at present were three elves. It was hard to take the sanity high ground under such circumstances.

Eve had explained her situation as best she could and was rather pleased when following that revelation, Aaron did not think her insane or delusional.  He himself had a incredible story to tell and though she had no idea how the separate pieces of their puzzle fit, it was good to know that she was not alone in bizarre situation they found themselves embroiled. While he did not state empathically that he believed the men in her house were elves, he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.  Considering what he had told her about his patient, it appeared that they were both in the company of some rather peculiar individuals of late. 

After they had left John Malcolm’s people behind, Eve had a better opportunity to study Aaron Stone. He was not what she would have expected from a psychiatrist and for some reason she kept thinking that he was one of those doctors who lived in trailers outside their hospital, like Gregory Harrison out of Trapper John MD.  She did not know many doctors who ran around with jeans and sneakers and looked like an adult that never really left college.  However, there was a strength to him that could not be denied and he exuded it without even suspecting its existence.  When he said that he would let nothing harm her, Eve had known with all her heart that he meant it and that made her feel terribly safe.

For a woman who was accustomed to taking care of herself, who saw this doctor get twitchy every time she loaded her gun during their adventure this evening, Eve could not understand why this was so.  If anything, he needed protecting more than she did.

“Here’s the plan,” Eve stated as they walked through the door. “I’ll get my guests and we’ll go pick up your patient and head out of the city. You said you got a place upstate?”

“Yeah,” Aaron nodded, looking around Eve’s home and was pleasantly surprised by how warm and comfortable it looked.  It was the house for a family not a single woman who had very little time for a social life he was certain. “It on a small plot of land that I lease from an old patient of mine. He used to go fishing there all the time but turned the place over to me when he and the wife moved to Miami. Its in the mountains, in a town called Goshen near Bear Mountain.”

“Sounds good to me.  We need to stay out of sight while we figure out what to do,” Eve declared as she stepped into the front door corridor of the house.

“Hello!” Eve called out  to give the trio some warning of her arrival, redundant as it was. 

If there was one thing she had learnt about them since their entry into her life, it was the fact that they could hear a pin drop from a hundred miles away.   She guessed they were in front of the TV since that had been their best source of information since becoming her houseguests.  She hoped they did not absorb too many talk shows.  Somehow the contamination of their psyche by Jerry Springer was a terrifying concept.

Both Aaron and Eve jumped when they heard a glass shattering on the floor as they walked into the living room. Elladan and Elrohir had been in front of the television set as expected but had stood up abruptly with their entrance into the room.  Legolas who was coming out of the kitchen had dropped his glass and was standing before them with nothing less than astonishment on his faces.  Eve was suddenly reminded of how they  had reacted to seeing her for the first time and realised that they were now staring at Aaron in the same way.  However, Legolas was staring at Aaron so hard that she could almost see tears in his eyes.

Elladan and Elrohir were not so restrained and the twins crossed the floor exuberantly before Elladan swept  a very confused Aaron into his arms to deliver a warm embrace, while Elrohir patted him on the back as if they were long lost friends.

“They’re very friendly,” Aaron stammered as he looked past Elladan’s shoulder at Eve.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Eve muttered with puzzlement. For some reason the reunion between these elves that purported to being her brothers and the psychiatrist felt strangely familiar, though like the rest of this whole bizarre episode, Eve was unable to explain it either.

“Elladan?” She looked at the elf for an explanation.

“Estel,” he grinned at Eve as if that explained everything, still beaming happily at Aaron at the same time.  “Estel! Aragorn!”

“No,” Aaron shook his head as he was similarly embraced by Elrohir and wished they would stop that.  In this day and age it was very disconcerting to be hugged so warmly by two men with long hair who looked that pretty,  “Aaron,” he said firmly.

“Aaron, Aragorn,” Elrohir declared, unwilling to accept anything different because it was he knew who was standing before him and it made perfect sense.  If the Evenstar lived in this time, why was it not possible for Aragorn to do as well?  There was a certain harmony to Aragorn and Arwen sharing the same time because their souls were so interconnected that it was impossible even thousands of years could separate them.   

“They did that to me too,” Eve explained to Aaron with growing confusion. “I have no idea what language they’re speaking but they seem to think that I was someone called Undomiel and their sister.”

Something sparked in his mind at that moment, something that he had even not considered until this instant when Eve had mentioned the fact that these elves believed her to be someone else.  What was it that Moses kept calling him? 

“Strider,” Aaron said experimentally.

The blond elf that remained at a distance but was more overwhelmed than the other two reacted sharply to the word. Of the three, it was Legolas had not said anything until now.  The expression on the elf’s face as he said the word ‘Strider’ was one of recognition and hope.  Suddenly the doctor’s heart was pounding because he knew he was the brink of something, something that would turn his world even more inside out than it already was.  Ever since he had met Moses, Aaron felt himself tumbling forward through some darkened chasm, coming to this singularity of time where finally everything would come together and make sense. 

“You,” Legolas tried the word on for size having picked up enough in the last day to come away with that much at least,  “you, Strider,” he tapped Aaron’s chest.

Legolas could scarcely contain the emotion inside of him as he regarded his dearest friend.  He had been the last of the Fellowship to leave the shores of Middle earth because of his deep friendship with the King of Gondor. When Aragorn had passed away into death, Legolas links to Middle earth had been severed.  After watching so many friends grow old and die including his wife, seeing Aragorn’s life end had been the final straw for Legolas. He left Middle earth while the Reunified Kingdom was still in mourning for the great king.  Now Legolas found himself gawking at the man who was Aragorn born in this day and age.  No matter how blankly he stared at Legolas, the elf would believe nothing else.

This was his friend even if he did not know it.

“No,” Aaron shook his head in denial to Legolas’ belief,  “I’m Aaron.”

“You,” Legolas repeated the gesture and spoke with more insistence, “Strider, Aragorn Elessar, Estel, Aaron.”

Aaron knew what he was trying to say despite his inability to speak English.  Moses had told Aaron during their session that Strider was what he was called before anything else.  These elves recognised him.  The minute they had laid eyes on him, Aaron had seen it.  They knew him. Just as they had known Eve.  It took Aaron a fraction of a second to remember that Strider was not the only thing that Moses had called him. During their first session, Moses had called him by another name, a name that he had forced to ask Stuart to explain.  With a pang of grief, Aaron realised that it was the last conversation he and Stuart would ever have.  However, now he knew he had to say it. He was compelled to. Saying it would tell him without a shadow of a doubt. 

“Thorongil,” he almost whispered but the elf heard nonetheless.

“Yes,” Legolas nodded slowly and placed a hand on Aaron’s chest, “Thorongil, you.”

 “Who the hell is Thorongil?” Eve asked, unable to comprehend what was going on.  She had taught the elves a few words since their stay in her home, mostly a few basic words to make things simpler but now they were using to reveal a truth that was sending Aaron into a deeper state of shock.

“I think I am,” Aaron finally allowed himself to say it. “Or I was, I don’t know. None of this makes sense.”

“Look,” Eve decided that these questions could wait for now because they did not have time for it.  The strange circumstances that allowed the elves to know Aaron for this Strider person, did not change the fact that John Malcolm’s people would be coming for them and soon.  “We can deal with this later, right now we have to leave.”

“Yeah,” Aaron nodded, deciding she was right.  “We have to get to Moses because maybe if they know me, they might know him too.”

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

Within twenty minutes, they were speeding away from Eve’s home with no idea how much time would lapse before Malcolm’s men descended upon her home like a plague of locusts. While Aaron emptied out whatever provisions they would need from her kitchen in terms of food and supplies, Eve made the elves help her load a small non descript chest into the back of her car.  Although she did not tell them what was within in, she successfully conveyed to them that they were not leaving the city without the leather box, secured with a huge padlock.  After their encounter with Malcolm’s goons today, Eve had learnt one thing for certain.  They were extremely well armed and thus she intended to be as well.

Once they were supplied, the five swiftly left the house and drove towards the Best Western motel where Aaron had hidden Moses discreetly.  Aaron was glad to get back to the old man because he had been out of touch with Moses since this afternoon when he had left to unwisely attend Stuart’s funeral.  There were too many unsettling questions in Aaron’s head that he did not wish to deal with at the moment.  Moses had said so many times that he trusted Aaron and until now, it was because Aaron believed that it was trust inspired of a sick man for his doctor.  The possibility never even occurred to Aaron that there might be another reason, one so unbelievable that Aaron could not believe it until now.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Eve asked Aaron as they went to his motel room.

“Look,” Aaron let out a deep breath and met her gaze, “I know this whole thing is crazy but I’ve seen things in the last twenty four hours that’s convinced me that everything about the world is not as black and white as we think.  I know what I feel and I know I’m not insane. It is hard to believe what’s happening to both of us but no more insane than you thinking these guys are elves and that they know us both, somehow. Can you honestly say that you believe that all this is a hoax?”

Eve felt silent, glancing at Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas who did not understand her language but were capable of reaching her on a level that Eve never thought possible. In her lifetime, she had seen the very depths of human ugliness and deception. She knew how to recognise liars and danger because it was a necessity. In the last two days of her life, everything she knew had been challenged with no good explanation for any of it.  Eve knew there came a point when one had to take a leap of faith. There was no other way around it. 

She had taken a leap when she rescued these men from the precinct and it was something she would never have done otherwise unless she truly believed.

“No,” Eve whispered softly, “damn I wish it was a hoax. I wish there was an explanation for all this but I don’t have one.”

“I wish I could make this easier for you but I’m just as lost as you are,” Aaron replied earnestly. “I thought Moses was just a patient but he’s more than that.  I don’t know what happened to Moses but I know that John Malcolm is evil and evil in a sense that we can even begin to imagine. He’s been creeping around our world for God knows how long and that scares the hell out of me.”

“Okay,” Eve met his eyes, “I’m with you on this, all the way.”

“Good,” Aaron smiled at her and felt inordinately pleased to know that.  He looked into her eyes and thought how easy it would be to let himself become lost in those sapphire depths.  Unfortunately, now was not the time for such indulgence and paused as he reached the door to the motel room.

“Moses, its me,” Aaron replied after knocking once.

“What’s wrong?” Eve asked suddenly as she noticed the elves suddenly becoming very tense. Their faces became grave as if they were sensing something in the air that gave them concern.  Legolas had pushed his way next to Aaron as the door started to open, which confused the doctor to no end.  Since their meeting, the elf seemed very reluctant to let Aaron out of his sight.

“Aaron?” Moses’ voice returned as the door swung open.

“GANDALF!” Legolas exclaimed, his voice escaping in a burst of sound.  The elf’s blue eyes widened in shock as his face melted into an expression of disbelief as Gandalf, the sole purpose of their quest to this strange world, suddenly materialised before them.

“Who?” Aaron returned just as swiftly as the elf dropped to one knee in a position of reverence before the old man.  Behind him, Elladan and Elrohir had done the same, similarly stunned that after four centuries of hearing nothing of their old friend, only to have him appear before him so unexpectedly.

“Is that his name?” Aaron asked Legolas, cursing himself a moment a later because the elf could not understand a word he was saying.  Instead, Aaron directed his question at Moses himself,  “is that your name Moses?’

Moses was reacting badly to what was happening to him, especially the appearance of the new faces before him.  He recoiled when Legolas called him that strange name, as if the sound of it was a physical assault.  His eyes darted frantically to Aaron, conveying to him in a matter of seconds, the fear he felt. By now, Legolas had stood up and was jabbering away at the old man in the language that neither Aaron nor Eve could understand.   While Aaron could not understand the content of the elf’s words, he could tell that Legolas was very excited at being in the presence of his amnesiac patient.

“Legolas,” Aaron called out and grabbed the elf’s arm, restraining him as Moses stumbled backwards into the room. The elf met his eyes and Aaron held his hand in a gesture he hoped was the universal hand signal for stop.  

Legolas saw Aaron’s intention and though he did not understand the words, could see that his presence before Gandalf had clearly distressed the wizard.  Legolas could not understand what had happened to the Istar.  Gandalf was the most powerful of the Istari and he was a Maia spirit.  Why was he behaving like a frightened old man and worse yet, why was he afraid of Legolas? His eyes showed the fear of a cornered stag and deepened Legolas’ concern for him.

“Elladan, Elrohir,” he said to the brothers, “something has happened to him.”

“Yes,” Elladan concurred with Legolas’ assessment when he saw Aaron approach the wizard first, attempting to calm him from his highly agitated state. 

“Moses, its okay,” Aaron replied as they entered the room. Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir held back while Eve locked the door behind them. Of all of them, it was Eve who understood the situation the least.   However, she was refrained from asking question for the moment.  “You don’t have to feel afraid. They won’t make you do anything you are not comfortable with. I get the impression they’re just as worried about you as I am.”

“Who are they?” Moses asked, retreating into a wing chair and staring at past Aaron at the elves with clear apprehension.

“They’re friends,” Aaron answered, not knowing what else to say. “I think they’re your friends.”

“I do not remember them!” Moses hissed.

“I think you do,” Aaron pressed a little.  “I think you do just a little. Its all right Moses, I’m here with you.  I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Moses,” Aaron turned his eyes towards the three elves, “this is Legolas, Elladan, Elrohir and that’s Eve,” he introduced her lastly.

Moses stared at the young woman for a long moment. It felt as if there was a wealth of information bottlenecked in a specific juncture of his mind, allowing only a trickle of memory through and none of it being what he really needed to know.  However, as he saw the woman return his stare, he found a word escaping his lips.

“Evenstar,” he whispered.

“You remember?” Aaron looked at him in question.

“I do not wish to speak of this!” Moses cried out. “There is something there inside me that will not allow me to remember. I can feel it!”

“Gandalf,” Legolas tried desperately to reach the wizard, speaking in elvish and hoped that would spark some memory within the mind of his old friend. “Mellon, Gandalf, Mellon!”

“I will not listen to you!” Moses shouted.

“Can you understand him Moses?” Aaron stood between his patient and the elf. “Do you know what he is saying?”

“Yes!” Moses cried out. “He says that I am a friend! I do not know him!”

“But you can understand him?” Eve declared. “You know what he is saying?”

“Yes,” Moses nodded, clearly distressed. The old man could not even look at the elves, he was that afraid.  “I understand him. I do not know how but I understand him.”

“What language is he speaking?” Eve asked finding her voice when she realised that she could finally converse with the elves if this old man could understand them.

“I do not know,” Moses shook his head, “I only know that I understand his speech.”

“Moses,” Aaron looked at him seriously, “is your name Gandalf?”

No sooner than the word had escaped his lips did Moses convulse violently and uttered a scream not unlike a wounded animal.  Like before, the old man clutched his head in agony as he writhed and screamed. He collapsed on the floor, his cries becoming shrieks of agony that left the elves and Eve in stunned silence.  However, their silence did not last long because once again, the walls began shuddering and the same calamity that had left their previous hotel room in a shambles began to repeat itself.

“What the hell?” Eve exclaimed as she felt the vibrations under her feet.  The furniture was shaking violently as if there was an earthquake. She had trouble staying on her feet as a chair tipped over and felt hard against the floor.  The furniture was being rattled so violently that it was moving across the carpet. She heard glass shatter from behind the bathroom door and heard what could only be described as water running.   The light fixture broke free as it was shaken loose and smashed onto the ground next to Elladan who caught the spray of glass across his back.

“Moses!” Aaron dropped to his knees and tried to help Moses who was screaming in pain, muttering incoherent words in between his cries of agony as around him, the room tore itself apart.  “Moses, listen to me!” He tried desperately to reach the old man, “its Aaron Moses, try to listen to my voice.  Try to come back from wherever you are by focusing on my voice!”

Unfortunately, it appeared the ordeal that Moses was enduring could not be halted by Aaron’s soothing words. The old man seemed unreachable and his agony deepened the intensity of the tremors until those within it could hear the walls fracturing.  Mighty cracks were running across the stone, splitting the paint and as fragments of mortar and stone began to break free from its cracks.  Legolas took up position next to Moses as he tried to help Aaron calm the old man.  However, Moses was beyond hearing anything that might remove him from the dark place that was causing him such intense pain.

“We have to get out of here!” Eve shouted at Aaron.

“No!” the doctor said stubbornly, “get my bag!”

Eve looked over her shoulder at the black doctor’s bag and hurried to retrieve it.  She handed the leather case to Aaron who immediately opened it, leaving Moses to Legolas’ ministrations any more.

“Gandalf,” Legolas tried desperately to reach the wizard, trying to help the powerful Istar who had saved all their lives on more occasions then he could think.

“NO!” Aaron fairly screamed himself.  “Don’t use his name!”

Legolas stared at him blankly, not understanding.

“Moses,” Aaron stated firmly as he produced the items he needed from inside the case. “Not Gandalf!”

To ensure that Legolas understood, Aaron shook his head when he said the word, hoping that the elf would understand what he had come to realise in the last few seconds, that whatever this condition Moses was suffering, it was his name that triggered these violent episodes. 

“Do not use his name Legolas!” Elladan replied, realising what Estel was trying to say to them.  “It is his name that makes him this way!’

“How can that be?” Legolas demanded outraged by the cruelty of it. “Who could have done this to an Istar?”

“I do not know,” Elladan replied, “but until we know for certain, we must listen to Estel.  I believe he is a healer in this life.”

Indeed, even as Legolas struggled to hold Gandalf down to keep him from harming himself, Aaron was preparing placing a needed against the wizard’s arm.  Gandalf or Moses, as Aaron called him was unable to keep his powers from escaping him with each agonised scream.  The manifestation of his pain was shaking the walls around them so violently, that there was every possibility that the roof might collapse upon them,

“What is he doing?” Elrohir asked as Aaron placed a sharp needle against Gandalf’s arm and filled him full of fluid from the receptacle it was attached to.

Suddenly, Gandalf’s convulsions began to abate as the struggle oozed out of his body.  In correspondence to his looming unconscious state, the powerful forces that had swept through the room also subsided with equal speed.  However, the damage was done and Aaron was grateful that this time, he had witnesses to the whole affair.  At least now he knew he was not imagining things.

“What did you do?” Eve asked as the old man began to drift into unconsciousness.

“I knocked him out with 50 cc of Thorazine,” Aaron let out a heavy sigh.  “He’s going to be asleep for a little while.”

“That’s good to know,” Eve replied staring around the room in absolute astonishment. If she had any lingering doubts about Aaron’s story, it was more or less gone now.  She could not deny what she had seen even if she was somewhat shaken by it. “What just happened?” She demanded.

“He’s telekinetic I think,” Aaron tried to explain the best he could but this was a difficult proposition when he himself did not know what was wrong with his patient. He had come to the conclusion that Moses’s condition could not be cured by psychiatry. In fact, he had no idea how to help the old man, not after this.

“We have to get him out of here,” Eve spoke once she had regained composure of herself. 

“Yeah,” Aaron nodded, surveying the damage around them. “I don’t think I’ll be getting my deposit back for this room either.”

********** 

With the same urgency as before, Aaron and his companions took Moses and hurried out of the motel room before the destruction within it brought the attention of others. Thankfully the T Bird was a large car and they were able to fit inside it, eve if it was a bit of a squeeze.  In any case, Moses remained unconscious throughout most of their journey to mind very much.  This time it was Eve who took over the driving duties while Aaron kept a close eye on his patient.  He also tended to Elladan who had been injured when Moses power were rampaging through the room.

Legolas was watching Aaron working on Elladan’s back with a little smile.  The reincarnation of his friend was presently removing glass fragments from the elf’s back.  Fortunately, the injury was not severe for the heavy material of elven clothing had protected too many pieces from being embedded in skin.   It seemed only fitting to Legolas that Aaron should be a healer, even when he was so far removed from his life as Aragorn, King of Gondor and a former Ranger, the instinct to heal was still within his old friend.

“What?” Aaron noticed the blond elf looking at him with a bemused smile as he removed small shard of glass that had penetrated Elladan’s clothes to meet skin.

“You,” Legolas replied and glanced at the black bag.

“Doctor,” Aaron answered assuming he was talking about Aaron’s ability to treat Elladan.  “Me, Doctor,” he repeated touching the bag.

Legolas nodded, absorbing the word, “You, Strider, Aragorn, doctor.”

“That’s right,” Aaron replied, uncertain of what the elf was trying to say. “I’m a doctor.”

“No,” Legolas shook his head. “Strider, doctor.”

“I think this Strider guy was a doctor,” Eve said helpfully from the driver’s seat.

“I still have trouble believing all this,” Aaron said shaking his head as he continued to treat Elladan. He made his remark at Legolas who continued to smile at him but there was also understanding in the elf’s eyes as well.

“Any more difficult believing your patient is telekinetic?” Eve asked.

“Telekinesis I can deal with,” Aaron said with a frown, “reincarnation? That’s something else.”

“Listen,” Eve glanced over her shoulder long enough to meet his eyes, “I have trouble believing all this and I’m a cop but ever since I came within sight of that damn Monolith, something has been happening to me.  I’ve always had intuition, strong intuitions, it has helped me size people up easily on the job but since I walked into that place, its gotten worse. I shouldn’t know what these guys are but I do. I know they’re elves.  As impossible as it is to believe, I know it. I can feel it.  I can feel they don’t want to hurt me and sometimes, I can even feel that two of them might have been my brothers once in another life.  As an investigator, I look for the most obvious solutions but in the absence of any evidence, you sometimes have to take a leap of faith and believe in something else.”

Aaron swallowed thickly, “ever since I ran into Moses, I have been able to sleep without having strange dreams.  The night before all this started, before Stuart was killed, I dreamt I was someone else.  Ever since he called me Thorongil, I’ve had this strange feeling that I’ve known him before. I’ve heard of hypnosis bringing memories of past lives to surface but I’m a psychiatrist, I am trained to think that there should be other explanations to psychosis, not far fetched ideas like reincarnation but like you, I know I was this Strider person. It scares the hell out of me but I know it.”

“Yeah, you were Strider, Aragorn Elessar, Estel and Thorongil,” Eve teased. “If we ever work out how to carry on a conversation with our friends here, I’m going to have to ask why you have half a dozen names.”

Aaron laughed shortly before casting a look at Moses who was still very much unconscious, “I figured out something about Moses though.”

“What is it?” Eve asked automatically.

“John Malcolm did this to him,” Aaron said firmly.

“Malcolm?” Legolas asked.

“Too long to explain,” Aaron shrugged.

“Melkor?” Legolas looked at him again.  He thought he heard Aaron say Melkor’s name.  Coupled with what was happening to Gandalf, it almost made sense.  Legolas cursed the inability to communicate because he wanted to know why Aaron had mentioned a word that sounded so much like the dark lord’s name.  Gandalf had left Valinor in pursuit of dark evil that had risen in the outer world, that they had been able to feel even in the undying lands.  Could it be Melkor?

“No,” Aaron replied. “Malcolm, John Malcolm.”

Legolas did not press him further but Aaron felt a chill run up his spine at the troubled look on Legolas’ face.  Aaron was starting to read this blond elf very well and what was more disturbing, he was starting to share this kinship the elf felt with him. 

“You were saying,” Eve prompted, wanting to know how John Malcolm could be responsible for Moses/ Gandalf’s condition.

“It has to be Malcolm in light of everything else we know.  John Malcolm is capable of resurrecting himself,” Aaron reasoned out as he placed clean bandages over Elladan’s wound. “What if Moses knew about it?  He spoke to me about being alive when they had carriages on the roads. He was wandering the streets back then.  He said to me that he had been away for a long time that he had needed to come back. What if he has been around for as long as Malcolm?”

“He sure looks old enough,” Eve was ready to accept the possibility. It was surprising how easily she was accepting everything these days.  She supposed once she believed there were elves in the world, it was only a hop skip and a jump to believing that there could be seemingly immortal people roaming the streets of New York.

”That’s why I called him Moses,” Aaron shrugged.

“Good thinking,” Eve rolled her eyes, “go on.”

“Okay,” Aaron continued. “If Moses has been around as long as Malcolm then he might know how Malcolm was reincarnating himself.  Moses told me he was sent to stop the evil, to stop the darkness they felt even though they were a world away.”

“Its possible that Moses comes from wherever these elves come from,” Eve pointed out.

“But he’s not an elf,” Aaron declared, having never thought of that.

“True but if they sent him here to stop evil then perhaps they made him come looking like one of us, so he wouldn’t draw suspicion,” she replied, using her investigative instincts to help Aaron with his hypothesis.

She was right, Aaron decided and continued, “I think Moses came to stop Malcolm and somehow or rather Malcolm couldn’t kill him but Malcolm could make him forget.  If he affected Moses’ memory, he might have put in a fail safe to ensure Moses would not be able to remember the truth.”

“Like sending him nuts if he ever heard name,” Eve concluded.

“No its worse than that,” Aaron said softly. “If he ever remembered his name.”

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