Prologue
Concerning Fred

Her parents discovered rather early on that she was an odd child.

She was odd in a way that was rather difficult to explain.  She was free of all the habits that made some children intolerable, being neither excessively fidgety nor prone to temper tantrums when she was refused her way.  While she was as energetic as any six-year-old child, she was not hyperactive and did not require being the centre of attraction. In some respects, her parents were actually quite grateful to have a child they could leave in his room for a length of time and be certain that when they returned, they would find her exactly where they had left her. Usually sprawled across the floor, fastidiously colouring in her Thomas the tank engine colouring book with his crayons or if she were in one of his greyer moods, her Harry Potter.

She tended to favour the beloved train instead of the wizard.

If she were odd, it was because she preferred to be alone rather than associating with children her own age

When she was taken to class at the Caerau Infant School, it was noticed immediately that she had difficulty making friends.  This had come as no surprise to her parents who had discovered this quirk after numerous failed attempts at forcing the child to socialise at playgrounds or the community playgroups in the park.  At family gatherings, she would be the child alone in the corner of the room, amusing herself with her colouring books or whatever Pingo the Penguin was up to on the television.

There actually came a point in time when her parents wondered if she were suffering some latent mental deficiency or worse yet, possessed some anti-social disorder that would turn harm her later in life.  Fortunately, the psychiatrist they consulted allayed their fears because he found the girl to be very intelligent, if not just a little quiet. There was nothing in her detached manner that seemed to indicate any serious mental problems and explained her behaviour as being nothing more than natural shyness.

Not every child was born an extrovert, he has said reassuringly.

It was easy to accept that as an explanation because while the child was rather detached around strangers, her parents garnered an altogether different response. Rather than going to school, she preferred to accompany her mother to the markets at Riverside, while her father went to his civil servant job at the local council.  Although her mother would not be swayed in allowing her to miss school during the week, on weekends she was allowed to come.  Every Saturday, the locals who volunteered their services at the Riverside markets were delighted to see a moppet with mesmerizing blue eyes and a thick mane of dark brown hair, enjoying herself immensely at her mum’s side.

There was nothing to distinguish her from any other child when she was born in the summer of 1996. Christened a few weeks later as Frederica Lindsey Bailey at the local church in the community of Riverside in Cardiff, she was called Fred for short and had been a reasonably behaved baby that spared her parents the nightmares associated with caring for a newborn infant.  If it were not for the distant look in her eyes that seemed for a moment, so much older than her years, there would have been no reason to worry at all.

As time passed, they became comfortable with the fact that their daughter was different but not in a bad way.  There was a quiet strength residing beneath seemingly fragile porcelain beauty of her face.  As a child it was difficult to see but it was there undoubtedly. She would always be a serious child and such children though a little unconventional, would never cause their parents too much grief.

Still, if either Mr or Mrs Bailey had ever bothered to ask, the one thing parents never thought to do with their children, they would have been surprised by the answer and possibly find that they were ill equipped to make any sense of it.  Despite her intelligence, Fred was still a child lacking the experience needed to articulate the reason for her behaviour in a manner either of her parents would have been able to understand.  She still remembered their surprise when she had asked them to turn off the lights in her bedroom at night. Her father had ruffled her hair and smiled proudly at his brave little girl since most children preferred the opposite. He never suspected for a moment that something else greater than the dark frightened his child. For Fred, it was very simple really.

The shadows hid her at night. The lights did not.

For as long as she could remember, Fred knew she had to be careful.  This knowledge was ingrained from the first moment her infant mind began to assert itself into true consciousness.  When she was a baby it instilled itself upon her as simple feeling of uneasiness. Thus as an infant, she did the only thing she could do. She remained silent so that she would not draw its attention. When she grew a little older, she distinguished who could be trusted and who could not. Her parents were safe.  Strangers were not. The sensation told her that strangers were to be approached with deliberation and with each passing day, the threat in her mind grew just a little more.

By the time she was four years old, it had become a constant companion. She could feel it at the edge of her consciousness, tugging gently at her mind even during the moments when she experienced happiness. It marred every joyful emotion in her life with its presence; blight upon her existence she did not know how she had acquired but was certain would follow her forever.  It loomed over her life like a storm cloud waiting to ruin an otherwise perfect sunny day.  Despite her happy childhood with parents who loved her dearly, Fred was gripped with the fear that all this was fleeting.

Something was waiting for her in the dark, something that watched and waited for her in secret.  Sometimes, she could feel its closeness so strongly that it was difficult to breathe and all she wanted to do was run and hide so that it would never find her.  Unfortunately, she also knew that while she breathed, she would never truly escape it.  The danger existed because she existed. Fred could articulate this to no one and so she kept it to herself, aware that sometimes her parents looked at her oddly and she did not at all like how that felt.

As much as Fred loved her parents, she was struck with this terrible foreboding that their presence in her life was temporary and so she clung to them, desperate to alert them of the danger when it came, even though she had no idea what form it would take. There were moments when her mother could almost see the terror in her eyes but the concept that her child could be so afraid was unimaginable so she was never able to make the leap to inquire its cause.  As Fred grew older, she began to feel the walls of her life closing in on her, as if her happy childhood was sands in an upturned hourglass, dwindling in greater quantity with each passing day.

Shortly after her sixth birthday, the dreams began.

Dark and terrible, they were dreams no child should ever have to endure. The first time she had them, Fred had awakened screaming hysterically, body covered in perspiration and her eyes wide with terror. It took almost five minutes before her frightened parents were able to discern that she was not suffering a fit of some kind and she had been awakened rudely by a nightmare. Even when they had convinced her she was awake and that everything was alright, she was shaking so badly that her mother considered taking her to the hospital, fearing she was suffering a seizure of some sort.

When finally she was calm enough to speak coherently or to recognise her surroundings, the mere suggestion that she should return to sleep was met with more blind panic and tears. In the between her near hysterical tears and her incomprehensible stutters, they discern that she was frightened out of her mind at what she had seen in the dreamscape and if she should sleep, the monster would come for again. In the end, the only way that Fred could even consent to closing her eyes was if she was allowed to sleep in her parent’s room for the rest of the night.

Unfortunately, the incident was not an isolated event. Seven days later, she experienced another harrowing night and after that, the dreams continued until Fred was waking in terror almost three times a week, leaving her parents at a loss over what to do.  It was becoming so bad that Fred was dreading going to sleep at night and often had to be convinced that it was time to sleep. However, the nightmares would be awaiting for her as soon as she closed her eyes and each time, she would be unable to recount what she had seen, knowing only that it was real and it was coming for her. 

Frantically, her parents believing that this time they had reason for concern, returned her to the ministrations of the psychiatrist who agreed that Fred should begin therapy, if for the child’s sake then for her parents. However, for most part, the man dismissed the incidents as just another childhood ill that would eventually fade away with time. The suggestion of a nightlight convinced Mr and Mrs Bailey that the doctor had no idea what was wrong with their daughter.  Unfortunately, it appeared no one else did either.  A battery of tests concluded that Fred suffered no illness or condition that could explain why she awoke in cold sweat in the middle of the night, screaming.

Her behaviour also took a marked changed from seriousness to utter paranoia.  Suddenly their daughter did not want to go to school at all and the insistence to remain close to either one of them at all times was becoming more than either parent could bear.  They knew something was wrong with their child but no agency they enlisted from doctors, teachers and psychiatrists could prove it.  One day, Mrs Bailey had walked into the house after spending the afternoon gardening and discovered someone had rummaged through her jewellery box and stolen all her rings.

She was on her way to telephone the police to report the burglary when a chance glance in the direction of the parlour solved the disappearance but not the mystery. Her wedding ring which she took off when she worked in the garden and other rings of similar significance had been cast into the fireplace.  She had found Fred sitting in front of the fireplace, watching the flames turn her wedding ring into a molten pool of gold.  When questioned why she would do such a thing, Fred would look at her mother as if there was something she wanted desperately to say but when finally spoken, was nothing more than an enigmatic riddle.

“They might speak.”

She had began her counselling the very next day and returned from her first session with a diagnosis from the psychiatrist that she was suffering unspecified feelings of persecution, a rather peculiar diagnosis for one as young as she.  Were they being too hard on her with discipline?  The Bailey’s endured the probing questions into their capacity as parents and while they were being subjected to this invasion, Fred’s nightmares continued.

Fred did not lie when she told her parents that she could not remember her dreams.

The truth was she really did not.  However, when she awoke, it was with the sensation that the dreams were somehow allowing her mysterious nemesis a window into her life and in turn, Fred was able to look back and see the terrible, terrible things it had planned for her.  Despite knowing very little about this enemy, there was one thing of which Fred was absolutely certain. Its hatred.

In the aftermath of the nightmares she could never quite remember or knew how to express, Fred could sense the potency of its terrible black rage as if it were a living thing in itself. She could sense its heart beating, driven with single-minded purposes in unity with its master to find her and destroy her.  The walls were beginning to close, Fred could feel it. It would not be long now.

It was coming for her.

Part One
The Mirror

Whenever Aaron woke up in the morning and looked out his window, he was struck with the absurd thought that he was not in Kansas anymore.

It was difficult not to think this way when the view outside his window was the magnificent city of Tirion constructed by the Noldor and Vanya elves on top of the hill of Túna in Calacirya, the Pass of Light. The city was a construct of white pearl and crystal, with jewel-encrusted walls and terraces of with pristine gardens. It stood high enough for its occupants to enjoy a panoramic view of the sea as well as the equally breathtaking Pelóri Mountains. Whenever Aaron found himself greeted by the resplendent beauty of this ancient land, there was a brief moment when he wondered if he was truly awake or was this all a product of a particularly enchanting dream.

After a year in Valinor, it was still a difficult thing to distinguish.

Since their arrival in Valinor, the mysterious land built by the Valar in ages so far in the distant past, it could not even be considered pre-history, Aaron had found his perceptions of the world altering drastically on a daily basis. Everything he had ever thought he knew about the world, which the elves called Arda, was nothing akin to the truth. He was a product of twentieth century thinking, where Darwinism and physical science purportedly had all the answers to one's role in the scheme of things. Until that fateful day when he had unknowingly accepted the charge of a new patient whom he had labelled Moses, Aaron had never considered that what he knew amounted to very little.

It was a little more than a year after that day and Aaron found, not only the woman that he knew he would spend the rest of his life with, but he was sharing that life with her in a place with whom not even dreams could compare. Since their arrival in Valinor, Aaron and Eve had been permanent additions to the House of Elrond in the city of Tirion, in the lands of Valinor called Eldamar, the portion of the Undying Lands allotted to the elves. Aaron did not think he would ever be able to wrap his mind around the notion that the elves shared the same island with their gods. However, as far as he understood it, the pantheon of gods the elves referred to as the Valar were apparently created by a higher power called Iluvutar who did not reside on the same plane as any of his creations.

As a psychiatrist, this was the hardest concept for him to grasp, the fact that he and Eve were the only modern humans to be provided with irrefutable proof that there was a supreme being and that the afterlife was not a fanciful construct of organized religion but a reality that was awaiting them some day. There was life after death because he and Eve were living proof of it. They had been a hundred thousand years ago, Aragorn Elessar and Arwen Evenstar, lovers bound in fate and time that had found each other again.

However, he was happy to have his beliefs challenge because living in Valinor meant that he could hear the Valar sing.

And for that privilege alone, he would have believed anything.

Living in Valinor was like taking a step through time, to a more innocent age. There was a profound sense of reverence for all living things so therefore the land was cherished and nurtured. The elves constructed wondrous cities that appeared to blend into the natural beauty of Valinor instead of against it. It was a place dedicated to music, artistry and thought, a monument to civilisation once greed, lust and war were forgotten. Aaron had never thought he would experience this peace in his lifetime but in Valinor it was not an ideal to be pursued, it was a way of life.

In his youth, he had backpacked across Europe and though the old world had built great cities, compared to the majesty of Tirion, Valimar and Alqualonde, they seemed crude and unfinished. Yet it was more than just the architecture and land that made Valinor so remarkable, it was an understanding that even though they lived apart from the world, they cared what happened to it. T

Aaron wished that the rest of the world could feel the same way.

At first, he had thought he would never get accustomed to living in this place because he was too much a product of his race to ever be content with the serenity of Valinor. However, Elrond and Celebrian had welcomed Eve and him into their home, treated them both like long lost kin which in truth they were and opened a whole new way of existence to them. There was so much to see, so much to learn. Aaron upon discovering that Elrond was a healer had spent a good deal of time with the elven lord, letting Elrond teach him what he knew.

Elrond had said with a smile, that he would be happy to share his knowledge with Aaron again.

There were portraits of Aragorn and Arwen in Elrond’s house and Aaron were struck by how closely he resembled the very accomplished king he saw on the canvas. The man who was adventurer, woodsman, healer and king who had brought to end a thousand years of uncertainty for his people and had made his kingdom a beacon of light for centuries until the dark ages had reclaimed the world. It was no wonder that Legolas had recognised him immediately. They were almost identical, even without the four days growth that Aragorn wore on his face. Aaron would have thought being king might actually require the man to shave but supposed in those days, grooming was not exactly a high point, even for a king.

It was Arwen’s portrait that took his breath away however. Eve was beautiful to him in away that transcended physical appearance but when he saw the Evenstar for the first time, he could very well understand what had driven Aragorn Elessar to move heaven and earth to make the lovely elf maiden his. Though they were identical in appearance there was something luminescent about the Evenstar when she looked at him from the canvas. It was able to make one forget body and soul just by being in her presence. Elrond had said that she was the fairest elf maiden of her day and Aaron could very well believe it. He tried to imagine Aragorn at twenty, meeting this vision of beauty and realised the future king never really had a chance but to be smitten by her.

It pleased Aaron to know that the king in the portrait did win his elf maiden and that they lived a long life together. It gave Aaron hope that even when his own life was done, somehow he and Eve would find each other again. The hope of that made death a little easier to bear.

When he was not learning the healing arts with Elrond, he went travelling with Legolas who was eager to show he and Eve, the richness of the Undying Lands. From Eldamar, they sailed to Tol Eressea and Alqualonde on the Anemone, the vessel Aaron and Eve had sailed to bring Legolas, Elrohir and Elladan home to Valinor. They walked the woods of Orome and visited the gardens of Lorien where Gandalf who went by the name of Olorin on these shores, resided. If Aaron had thought living in this utopia would have stagnated him, he was highly mistaken because there were aeons of knowledge in Valinor that appreciated a new mind to shape.

The exchange was mutual however because the elves were thirsty for knowledge regarding the outside world despite their decision to remain in cloistered in their eternal paradise. As the Firstborn who had taught all the other races the power of speech, they had been eager to learn English and any other language that Aaron and Eve was able to teach them. It was quite something to discover a group of elves trying to conjugate verbs in Spanish and even more startling to hear them attempting to speak it. Aaron would tell them about man’s progress (such as it was) since the early days of civilisation. Some of them had ventured forth from Valinor as late as three thousand years ago and found nothing they could consider progress, which was why none had wanted to return since.

Unfortunately, Aaron and Eve’s stories about a mechanized, urban world with its threats of deforestation, environmental pollution, thermonuclear Armageddon and global warming did not improve their view that the world had not changed for the better. In truth, as the two humans described it to their immortal companions, Aaron could not help thinking that they were right. How the Valar regarded these tales, Aaron was uncertain but Gandalf seemed to think that the recent excursion beyond Valinor had given them much food for thought.

It was quite a sobering experience to know that the gods walked among them, that to look up the peak of the eastern Pelóri Mountains was to see Taniquetil, the home of the Valar gods Manwe and Varda. The gods in Valinor co-existed in the same manner that English lords might have ruled their lands in medieval times, taking active part in the lives of their people but remaining separate nonetheless, the class distinction being replaced by deification. Fortunately, while the Valar were held in reverence, they regarded the elves the way parents would watch over children. They moved about formlessly for most part but could take on corporeal form whenever they needed to converse with the elves or some other duty that required a physical presence.

The Valar that did make himself known to Aaron and Eve was Aulë, who appeared to them in the guise of a big, fiery haired man who looked as if he had walked out of a movie about Vikings. He had a booming voice, a red bead and a fascination for everything on board the Anemone. As he went through the motor yacht, examining everything from the ice cream scoop to the television and video recorder, he demanded explanation on how it all worked, how it was made, what materials were used to make it. Explaining plastics to a god had very nearly sent Aaron into therapy himself.

In fact the trawler-style motor yacht that they had used to sail to Valinor was a source of great fascination to all the elves, particularly the Teleri who lived in Tol Eressea and an elf Legolas introduced to them as Cirdan who in his day, had been a master ship builder. Cirdan, like the Teleri had built the great ships that brought the elves to Valinor. During the first few weeks of Aaron and Eve’s arrival, many had come to the main island just to inspect the vessel.

The Teleri found the Anemone functional and luxurious in its comforts though not very aesthetic. After seeing some of the magnificently crafted ships in their harbour, Aaron could understand why. Sleek, long and grey, when looking at them through the mists a man could be forgiven for thinking that he was staring at a great bird gliding through the water. The ships were graceful in their construction with a quality about them that was as enchanted as the rest of Valinor.

Aaron was to learn later that technically speaking, the Anemone should not have been able to reach Valinor at all. Only a vessel made in the manner of the Teleri elves could make the crossing. The construction of the magical grey ships was imbued with the power to reach Valinor, which was why no ship was able to breach the curtains that kept Valinor in its isolated dimension. However, Gandalf had explained that the Valar had anticipated the Anemone’s arrival following their part in uncovering Melkor’s presence on this earth and were more than happy to open the gateway to bring them to Valinor.

However, Aaron sensed that there was more to it when Gandalf had made this explanation, though he could not say what had precipitated this suspicion. The psychiatrist in him was too much a student of behaviour to miss the slight nuances in the Maia’s manner when he made this revelation. After all, in the real world, Gandalf had been his patient and though it was probably completely unnecessary, Aaron still felt a professional obligation to the old man. He was certain that there was something Gandalf was hiding but despite Aaron’s insistence, Gandalf remaining maddeningly tight lipped about it.

In the end, Aaron shrugged it off and decided Gandalf would tell him when he was ready.

Until the day that Aaron was summoned to the house of Celeborn and Galadriel.

When Haldir, devoted march warden of Galadriel and Celeborn, escorted him to their presence, Aaron did not know what to think. In truth, it was Galadriel who had made the request for his presence but that made little difference in the scheme of things. Being summoned by Galadriel, former Lady of Lothlorien, Noldor Princess and grandmother to Arwen Evenstar, was not to be taken lightly. In the months since his arrival in Valinor, Aaron had come to learnt that the lady did not make summonses lightly even though they saw each other often when Galadriel came to visit Eve, whom she considered her granddaughter.

A summons was a formal request made only when there was something of great importance to be discussed and Aaron wondered what business he could have with the great lady to warrant that.

While Aaron was more than happy to acquiesced to her summons, he was apprehensive as well. That nagging sensation in the back of his mind that told him Gandalf was keeping some secret from him had returned with a vengeance when he was led to the mansion occupied by the Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel. Like all the buildings in Tirion, this one was carved out of ivory and pearl and yet looked perfectly natural against the backdrop of tall trees, overhanging branches and vines, laden with flowers. His journey through the mansion came to an end in Galadriel’s garden, a place with soft verdant grass, multi-coloured flowering shrubs and strong, trees whose leaves clenched together to form a canopy overhead that gave plenty of cool shade.

Galadriel stood before an ornate pedestal holding a silver basin and an equally silver ewer next to it. An exquisitely beautiful woman with cascading hair of gold, she had more regal dignity in her one finger than the entire royal family of England since the Tudors. It was difficult to imagine that she was already ancient when the elves had left the world because she did not look all that much older than him. However, one only had to look into her eyes to see the great wisdom of her years.

Standing next to Galadriel was Gandalf and the expression on their faces at seeing him was severe. Something was wrong, Aaron concluded immediately to himself.

“You asked to see me,” Aaron addressed Galadriel after she had dismissed Haldir, his gaze shifting briefly in Gandalf’s direction as he spoke.

“It was I who requested that Galadriel summon you here Aaron,” Gandalf answered before Galadriel could.

“Why?” Aaron asked, feeling a tightening in his chest. Was it time for Eve and him to return to the outside world? Were they being asked to leave? Aaron prayed it was not because he rather liked being in Valinor, there was so much to learn, so many people he had come to care for here. It would hurt Eve to leave the people behind she considered her family, Elrond, Celebrian and so many others.

“Still your heart Aaron,” Galadriel said smoothly and as always her words reached into his heart with ease. “You are welcome here for as long you live, you need never fear being turned away from this place.”

Galadriel was one of the few people capable of appreciating that Aaron was not Aragorn Elessar, the Elfstone but rather a person in his own right who was in possession of an old soul. It was one of the main difficulties that Aaron had encountered since arriving at Valinor and finding himself surrounded by elves that remembered his earlier incarnation. Only a few people could see that it made him uncomfortable to be bombarded with a history that he did not remember, even though he could feel the person he had been at times. Galadriel reminded him of an old college professor he had once, who seemed capable of listening with good humour to the youthful prattling of all his students and offered advice not as a teacher but as a friend.

Aaron had become accustomed to Galadriel’s ability to know what was on his mind and did not react to her statement but rather her response. “I’m sorry, I should let you tell me before jumping to conclusions.”

“All is forgiven Aaron,” Galadriel smiled and then continued to speak, “you have been brought here at Olorin’s request and also because I have need your assistance. Of late, I have been visited with visions of a troubling nature that I am unable to explain or understand. I believe they are images of your world and what I see frightens me greatly.”

Aaron met Gandalf’s eyes, “you can’t tell what they are?”

“To some extent but not all,” Gandalf replied sincerely. “My memories as Moses are a mixture of lucidity and delusion, it is difficult to separate the two at times. It is Melkor’s legacy unfortunately. I prefer not to rely upon them. It is important that you see for me.”

There was something more that Gandalf was not telling him but Aaron decided not to press. Gandalf’s statement was not entirely untrue because Legolas had told him that whenever Gandalf returned from death, his old persona became something in his past, even if the memories and the friendships of that life remained intact. It was difficult for Aaron to grasp but no more than anything else he had encountered in Valinor since his arrival.

“What do you need me to do?” Aaron asked with a hint of apprehension thought he would never think to refuse.

“Look,” she instructed as she poured clear water into the basin and beckoned him forward. “Tell me what you see.”

Aaron gave her a look of scepticism but did as he was asked. The elves had given both he and Eve sanctuary from the outside world and had welcomed them with open arms. If helping meant taking a look into a silver basin, then Aaron was happy to do so without hesitation, even if he was certain that Gandalf was lying to him about the reason. Taking a step forward, he dropped his gaze into the basin below him and stared for a moment at the bottom of the silver receptacle.

”What am I looking for?” He asked when he was confronted with the reflection of the sunlight bouncing off the settling surface of the water.

“You will know when you see it,” Galadriel answered, accustomed to his impatience and wondered if he would find it amusing to know that he shared this trait with Aragorn Elessar.

“Whatever you say,” Aaron declared and furrowed his brow in concentration.

The reflection on the water showed the branches overhead with points of sunlight spearing through the leaves. The radiance of the sunshine was difficult to keep staring at for long but then the leaves began to rustle even though there was no wind. Amber light contracted into a single burst of bright white, so intense that he had to glance away for a moment. Suddenly, Aaron found himself confronted with at parched, arid landscape with dusty winds that was reminiscent of Arizona perhaps, he was not quite sure until the a mushroom shaped cloud surged through the air like a towering skyscraper and put an end to all his questions. As did the shockwave that spread out in a rolling wall of dust and fire that swept away every thing in its path like a gust of wind blasting everything out of its path.

For as long as he knew, the world had lived with the threat of nuclear destruction but what he saw in Galadriel’s mirror was no threat, it was the reality. Images flashed at him like exploding suns and in the aftermath of blinding glare, he saw the world decaying in the wake of the nuclear fire. The cities that survived the initial blasts were slowly poisoned by the nuclear winter as the world and its people began to die in the millions. In a matter of seconds, Aaron saw the world he knew, the one that gave birth to him, die in a slow choking death and it was not even the end of the nightmare. It was just the beginning.

“What is this?” He gasped but no one answered because his journey was not done.

He saw a mountain made of skeletons, bleached white from fire and the faded sun trying to see through the darkened skies of ash. He saw a throne carved from human bone, fingers taping arm rests made of skulls, fingers belonging to the arm of he who was now master of the dead husk that was once Arda. The master whose face Aaron could not see but who was staring at him with red eyes glowing with evil, pure and incarnate. Aaron wanted to recoil from that malevolent gaze, a cold shiver running through his spine as he saw other things taking dominion over this devastated world, things not human but strangely familiar.

The skies were filled with them, the dark things. Their enormous wing flapped through the tainted air, breathing fire, killing those who did not die or who had not succumbed to becoming food of the black, crawling beasts that moved over the dead or the dying like an infestation. A landscape designed by Dante, made a reality because of nuclear fire. This couldn’t be! It was impossible! Yet, amidst the wreckage, he saw a silhouette behind master with the red eyes that made him realise that this was real and it was the future.

Because behind the beast was the Statue of Liberty.

That was all Aaron’s mind could manage before he pulled away from the mirror and stumbled backwards in near terror. He thought he had been afraid when he had faced the creature beneath the Malcolm Building, he learnt later on was a watcher, but this terrified him beyond that because it was yet to happen. Aaron did not know how he knew, but with every fibre of his being, was convinced it was the truth. He had been shown this for a reason, a reason he suspected Gandalf and Galadriel already knew.

“This is the future?” He demanded once he was able to compose himself enough to speak.

Galadriel and Gandalf exchanged glances before Galadriel nodded grimly. “It is the future.”

“How?” Aaron exclaimed. “How could this be the future? Malcolm was destroyed!”

“Indeed he was but he has many agents in the world,” Gandalf answered sombrely. “He was in your world for four centuries, biding his time, planning for the eventuality you saw in your vision, the vision that Galadriel, myself and the Valar have seen.”

“Then why didn’t they destroy it when they destroyed him?” Aaron shouted, his heart pounding with fear as the images of that hellish world appeared in his mind again. He knew where this was going and he was scared to death of it.

“Even during the War of the Wrath, when the Valar emerged from Valinor to fight Melkor, some of his agents escaped notice. They know how to hide well, they have done it for a long time and now they use the bodies of men to hide, the way Melkor hid within the body of John Malcolm. He has had four centuries to bring his servants from the Void into Ea, to give them new life as he was given life,” Gandalf explained. “The time for the Valar moving about your world is over, they only emerged because Melkor was beyond any of you to destroy, his agents are not.”

”So its up to us to clean up the mess?” Aaron hissed with more anger that he intended. “I can’t stop what happened in that vision. I can’t stop a nuclear war! My people have lived with nuclear weapons for the past fifty years and the best alternative they came up with is to never use the damn things! If Malcolm’s agents have gotten their hands on a nuclear arsenal then it is over! They only need to launch one and that will enough to start a chain reaction across the planet and you know why? As terrified as my people are to use the things, they’re even more terrified of being attacked first! They’ll launch a counter strike, which will no doubt be interpreted by someone else as a hostile act and the entire fucking planet will fry!”

“Are you quite finished?” Gandalf gave him a stern look when he had stopped ranting.

Aaron sucked in a deep breath and felt somewhat embarrassed for his outburst especially in front of Galadriel, before answering in a decidedly calmer tone, “I think so.”

”Good,” Gandalf replied and resumed speaking. “I suspect this vision would not come unless there was time to stop it from happening. Iluvutar is not so callous as to allow us to see what we cannot change, so there is time. I have been sent forth to find this evil and stop it but I cannot do it without you. After our encounter with Malcolm, it is clear that I need a guide through the world of men or else I may fall into the same trap I did once before. I need your help and that of Eve’s to battle this threat. You may refuse and I would understand if you did. Both of you have done enough service to your people in aiding the defeat of Melkor. There is no shame in choosing to stay here in Valinor, you will still be welcomed.”

Aaron turned away, hating the choice before him. He wanted to stay here with Eve, to live in this paradise for as long as time allowed them to be together but he could not do it, knowing that the world he had left behind was burning in the fire of that hellish vision. Aaron knew the choice that Eve would make. She could no more stomach it then he. The world that had given them both life was not Valinor but it was their home once and to some degree, always would be. It deserved to live. It and the people who lived there deserved the chance to be all they could, in the proper course of time.

It did not deserve the end he had seen in Galadriel’s mirror.

“I am not a soldier,” Aaron said softly. “I’m just a doctor.”

“You have a brave and compassionate heart,” Galadriel met his gaze. “That above all else made Aragorn Elessar great, not his skills as a warrior or his wisdom to rule. He was a man who cared about others and was willing to protect them to the best of his ability. That is sometimes all the difference between life and death but you will not be alone. Olorin will be at your side, as will Eve and I am certain Legolas will insist on accompanying you.”

“I think you are right,” Aaron agreed. He seriously doubted that Legolas would let him go into any dangerous situation without being there at his side. Good conscience would require Aaron to try and talk him out of it but Aaron had learnt one thing by now it was that the elf could be exceedingly stubborn when the mood took him.

“There is one other thing,” Galadriel replied, her voice dropping an octave lower as she spoke. “There was a further part to the vision that you did not see but I did. I believe it will help you in your quest to find the darkness that awaits in the outside world.”

“What is it?” Aaron asked and noticed Gandalf nodding at her to continue.

“It is a riddle to which we have the answer in part though what it means to your quest, I cannot say,” Galadriel confessed. “The visions are not always exact. You must interpret them as best you can.”

“Nothing new there,” Aaron shrugged sarcastically. “Please, go on.”

Galadriel closed her eyes and spoke softly,

The hour dawns near when all must end,

Evil perpetuates its own sire and child

Infusing it with old spirit

The one who made it, the one unmade it and the one was unmade by it

The circle of gold binds them together,

He who failed in one life must redeem himself in another

To protect the one he did not protect before,

To save the world and give peace at last to the Son of Gondor.

“What does that mean?” Aaron looked quizzically at Gandalf and Galadriel.

“We are not certain,” Gandalf answered truthfully. “The circle of gold sounds a good deal to me like the One Ring.”

“The One Ring,” Aaron mused, recalling a little about the War of the Ring as told to him by Legolas. “Wasn’t that destroyed or something?”

“It was,” Galadriel nodded slightly. “Frodo Baggins unmade it in the fires of Mount Doom. It ended Sauron’s reign in Middle earth.”

This was getting more bizarre by the minute and Aragorn was forced to ask the obvious question, “well if this Frodo didn’t fail, then who did?”

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

TODAY

Bryan Miller sat outside the door to his section supervisor’s office and knew this interview was not going to go well.

He supposed he should have expected this sooner or later but even the cynic in him had hoped it would be later. Still, he had been living on borrowed time since the destruction of the Malcolm Building and it was only a matter of time before he was made accountable for his activities since them. In truth, Bryan had sincerely believed that he would have found some irrefutable evidence that his suspicions were right, that he had not been wasting the last year and a half of his life on a fruitless investigation. Unfortunately, the vital evidence he had needed remained out of his reach and even MI6 had its limits in how long it wished to indulge its agents, even one as respected as Bryan Miller.

Six months before the Malcolm Building had been so spectacularly destroyed in New York, Bryan had been just another field agent in MI6, affectionately known to insiders as "The Firm". Bryan had started his espionage career in the SAS with the Royal Marines before he was recruited and trained at the facility at Fort Monckton in Hampshire. A twelve year veteran, Bryan had survived more than his share of dangerous assignment and had seen people from all walks of like, from respected statesmen to parasitic vermin masquerading as men.

His life spent moving about in the shadows of the intelligence world and until a eighteen months ago, had come to the firm conclusion that nothing was capable of surprising him anymore. That is, until he stumbled upon the possibility that one of the world's biggest conglomerates might be secretly funding terrorism on a global scale.

At first, Bryan had thought it was insane.

John Malcolm's reputation as a businessman and entrepreneur simply did not fit the profile of a terrorist sympathiser. Like all large companies, Malcolm Industries had a vast connection of contacts throughout the world. MI6 and no doubt every other intelligence agency in the world, knew that Malcolm liked to keep people in his pocket but assume the reason for it was to further his commercial interests. It never occurred to them that this vast network might have a more sinister purpose that had little to do with corporate ambition as in global power. Once Bryan stared to pay attention, the possibilities demanded investigation, especially when it appeared that Malcolm might have been funding a secret organization known as the Black Serpent.

Until that moment, Bryan had thought Black Serpent was little more than a myth. A convenient scapegoat that other agencies used whenever a bombing or an assassination could not be attributed to any particular group. From what little was known about it, the Black Serpent had all the characteristic attributed to groups like the PLO or Al Qaeda. Powerful, elusive with a wide network of operatives. Unfortunately, proof that there was even such an organization was scarce. However, upon further investigation, Bryan had learnt that if it did exist, it was set apart because of one rather curious aspect; Black Serpent did not seem to have a political agenda of any kind. A great deal of money was supposedly funnelled into organization, distributed across the globe to fund various terrorist groups, yet possessing no specific ideology.

It was bizarre.

Bryan had only managed to learn this much because of an informant and the man had managed to get himself killed within hours of revealing the existence of Black Serpent and its possible links to Malcolm Industries. Until then Bryan had believed what everyone else did, Black Serpent was a myth. However, as he began to look into the possibility of its existence, he found that it was even more elusive than that. No one could confirm who had first produced the name, only that it had been spoken about in whispers and then accepted as a joke, it not an outright fabrication. Fortunately, when he brought this information to his superiors, they were willing to give him a little latitude in investigating the possibility.

After all, Malcolm Industries was a world conglomerate and terrorists’ links to such an influential company had to be investigated.

Bryan’s efforts from the beginning were met with indifference to every agency he approached. The CIA thought he was chasing a phantom, the links between Malcolm Industries and the group a fabrication, fed to him by an informant looking to save his own skin. It was not long before Bryan was being met with the same response across the intelligence community. If he did not know any better, he would think they were trying to avoid the subject but that would mean a conspiracy he could not even begin to imagine and dismissed it.

He was almost ready to give up when a bombing at the Pakistani embassy in London, produced some interesting results. Twelve people had died and MI5 who had conducted the investigation following the destruction, turned up some unusual evidence. The weapon supposedly used by the Indian terrorists claiming responsibility for the destruction had a Soviet detonator, one of many such devices that were lost and sold on the black market following the collapse of the USSR.

Bryan followed the money trail from the sale of the weapon and through some rather unorthodox methods involving contacts and acquaintances that would not at all been approved by his superiors, he found the Indian arms dealer who had made the purchase. Bryan was not able to prove that Black Serpent was responsible the plot but he did learn that the money had been siphoned through a dummy corporation belonging to a subsidiary of Malcolm Industries. It was the first tangible piece of evidence that Bryan was able to find that Malcolm Industries was guilty of something, if not exactly what.

Unfortunately, before he could acquire the warrants needed to take a closer look at the company and its CEO, the Malcolm Building was levelled by what appeared to be a terrorist attack equal to the destruction of the World Trade Centre.

In the wake of its destruction, Bryan was in stupor of disbelief. Suddenly everything he had been working for during the past six months felt into doubt. He had utterly convinced that Black Serpent had links to the company, perhaps as an agent of chaos to destabilise selected regions in the world for commercial profit. With the attack upon the corporate head of the company the subsequent death of John Malcolm, it seemed Malcolm Industries was exonerated of any wrong doing in the eyes of Bryan’s superiors. It was an opinion that Bryan was unable to change, especially when what proof he had was scant to begin with.

He had flown to New York following the destruction and stood before the pile of rubble in the middle of Manhattan, watching dispassionately as work crews took on the arduous task of clearing away the debris. He did not know how long he had stood there, trying to make sense of it and finding after hours, that he could not.

Something did not feel right.

There were too many questions about the calamity. The fact that other than a small portion of C4 detected when the investigators shifted through the rubble, there was no trace of any other explosive, certainly not in the amounts required to demolish a skyscraper the size of Monolith as locals called the building. Structural engineers examining the wreckage had equally baffling reports of their own. The type of fractures running through the wreckage seemed to indicate a seismic disturbance not an explosion. However, since a localised earthquake around one building was a virtual impossibility, it was decided that the terrorists had used some form of designer explosive not known to the authorities.

If that inconsistency was difficult enough to swallow, so was the FBI’s main suspect; a man called Aaron Stone, an American psychiatrist who until that particular day had no prior record of any kind. Stone was a doctor at a New York hospital until he was fired a few days before. The hospital board had discovered that he had illegally liberated one of his patients. Stone’s history indicated no affiliation with any kind of terrorist group. If anything, he was the least likely candidate for blowing up a building. The FBI had decided to label him a lone gunman in the way Timothy McVeigh had been but everything they knew about the good doctor was academic because six weeks after the explosion, Stone and his patient had vanished and not been seen since.

Bryan had made an attempt to find him but to no avail. Wherever Stone had gone to ground, it was clear he was not coming back.

**********

“Agent Miller,” a soft, feminine voice interrupted Bryan Miller’s thoughts as he sat outside his supervisor’s office, waiting for the man to see him.

Bryan looked up and met the gaze of Alicia Perkins, the pretty secretary who kept a vigil outside the old man’s office. She offered him a little smile, one he had been familiar with ever since she took over the role from her predecessor. It was a smile of romantic interest that Bryan had sense enough to ignore. Even in MI6, office romances were not a good idea and he did not need another woman in his life who would tell him he was a bastard after six months.

”He’ll see you now,” she informed him dutifully when he looked her way, careful to keep eye contact with her instead of noticing the scandalously low cut blouse she was wearing beneath her smart, navy suit.

“Thank you,” Bryan rose to his feet and made his way to the door, giving her no more attention that that.

In truth, he was not looking forward to this meeting because he had some idea how it was all going to play out. When he was told that Caldwell wanted to see him earlier today, he had mentally prepared himself for the worst. After all, he was perfectly aware with how many regulations he had broken in order to chase down what everyone was starting to call his obsession. Bryan wanted to disagree with them but in the last twenty minutes that he had been sitting here, waiting to see Section Supervisor Caldwell, Bryan had realised that his life was his job and for the last eighteen months, his job had been Malcolm Industries.

It disturbed him even further to realise that without his job, there was little else in his life. Being in the game meant it was difficult to form relationships. After all, he was called to travel the world at a moment’s notice and keep his whereabouts a secret, and there was that annoying little thing about possibly getting killed on assignment, not exactly the ideal ground to establish permanent attachment. Most women he had been foolish enough to become attached to, worked out within six months that his job was his first love and everything else was filler.

Section Supervisor Caldwell was old school.

He had been old when Bryan was still a novice and seemed to never age, only grow balder as the years go by. There was a joke that his smooth skull could deflect signals from enemy surveillance equipment but no one dared to say it to Caldwell’s face, not unless they wanted to be posted to someplace hellish, like Antarctica or worse yet, Whitby. Bryan had a great deal of respect for Caldwell and knew that if he was in here, then it was for good reason. Caldwell trusted the people under his authority and only cracked the whip when he felt it was needed, unfortunately for Bryan.

Upon entering Caldwell’s office, Bryan saw the man at his desk, perusing the files he had accumulated during his investigation of Malcolm Industries beginning with the initial report from his dead informant to Bryan’s most recent investigations into the heir of the Malcolm estate, David Saeran. Caldwell’s grim expression at Bryan’s entry into the room caused the field agent to stiffen involuntarily and reminded him of the days when he was sent to the headmaster’s office at school. Caldwell acknowledged his arrival with a quick glance from over the top edge of the file before gesturing at him to take seat.

Bryan would prefer to endure this whole ordeal standing but supposed this was not the time to be difficult, particularly if he wanted to keep his job. He was starting to suspect that it might already be too late but permitted his pride to suffer a little if it meant he would be allowed to continue his investigation. Caldwell was a good man and a better friend. Even Bryan had to acknowledge that Caldwell had given him a good deal of latitude before reaching this point and was probably justified in what he was about to do.

“Bryan,” Caldwell began, obviously deciding to skip the formalities and launch directly into the heart of the matter. “I thought we had an understanding that you were going to drop the investigation into Malcolm Industries.”

“With all due respect Sir, you had an understanding that I didn’t share,” Bryan replied having reached the conclusion in the last few seconds that Caldwell had already made up his mind and if he had, little that Bryan said now would make any difference. Therefore, there seemed little point in hiding his feelings regarding the matter. “I think the company bears further investigation.”

“Not according to your own files,” Caldwell retorted, dropping the file onto the desktop. The papers contain within it slid out of its confines across the polished oak surface. “All I see here is circumstantial evidence and hearsay, which I might add appears less credible since its central headquarters was reduced to a pile a rubble of rubble in the middle of Manhattan!”

“Sir, we have no idea if the destruction of the Malcolm Building was motivated by terrorists. Don’t you find it odd that no one has stepped forward claiming responsibility? If Malcolm Industries is a front for the Black Serpent organization, then this could be a retaliatory response to some agenda that we are unaware of!” Bryan insisted with just as much determination.

“You’re speculating Agent Miller!” Caldwell cried out in exasperation. “This is MI6, not some Fleet Street rag! You are not justified in chasing down your pet theories, especially when you have provided not one shred of real evidence that such an organization even exists. This phantom that you’ve been chasing has made you the laughing stock of the entire intelligence community and I will not have you using our resources to give validation to a rumour that makes British intelligence look like tabloid hunters!”

The insult stung more than Bryan wanted to admit because he knew he had been the subject of some ridicule but until now, had not suspected the full measure of it. Did his entire department think him insane?

“I know I’m right,” Bryan insisted, refusing to let Caldwell see that his words had struck home. “There is something there. Something that no one suspects and unless we pay close attention to it, we are going to wake up one day and find a disaster on our doorstep that will make the bombing at the World Trade Centre look like a walk in the park!”

“Bloody hell Bryan!” Caldwell exclaimed loudly, standing up in his chair and leaning forward. “You’ve produced nothing that would indicate that and I see by your surveillance reports that you have been watching David Saeran as well?”

Bryan sucked in his breath, trying to restrain his own temper before it got the better of him and forced him to say something that he would really regret. “David Saeran is John Malcolm’s Vice President and heir to the entire Malcolm fortune. Malcolm ran the company from across the Atlantic but Saeran controls the European division. The money that came through the dummy corporations to Gupta Singh for the attack on the Pakistani Embassy came in Deutsche marks. It is entirely possible that Malcolm knew nothing about Black Serpent and every possibility that Saeran is the one funding the organization!”

“So now you don’t think that Malcolm is responsible, you think its Saeran?” Caldwell demanded in disbelief, his expression showing clearly that his patience with Bryan had finally reached its end.

“Yes,” Bryan answered in resignation, realising at this moment that his battle to convince his superior was over. Caldwell thought he was obsessed and perhaps he was but Bryan was certain that he was right. There was something about Malcolm Industries that warranted caution. No one had heard of David Saeran until after the destruction of the Malcolm Building where he had been produced by the company’s board of directors as the new Chief Executive Officer and subsequent heir to the Malcolm fortune. The company PR people had claimed that Saeran had been Malcolm’s right hand man in Europe but almost nothing was known of the man.

“Bryan,” Caldwell lowered himself into his leather chair, a sure sign to Bryan that he had come to a decision. “I think you need to take some time off. You’ve been on this investigation for too long and you’ve lost your objectivity. You’re a good man Bryan and I don’t want to lose you but you need to step away from all this while you can.”

“I don’t need a rest,” Bryan insisted but suspected the decision was out of his hands. Caldwell was obdurate once he made up his mind. “I’m telling you there’s something here. I just need a little more time.”

“Bryan,” Caldwell said firmly. “This isn’t a request. I’m ordering you to take leave. Don’t assume that I won't make this official if I have to."

Bryan opened his mouth to protest but knew anything he said to Caldwell would only condemn him further in the eyes of his superior. The last thing he needed was for Caldwell to think that he was insubordinate as well as obsessive. Right now, the most important thing was to walk out of here with Caldwell suitably appeased. The rest he would figure out later. If he wanted to get to the bottom of things with Malcolm Industries, he would need the resources of MI6. As a wise man once said, it was best to play dead for the time being.

“Alright," Bryan let out a heavy breath, feigning capitulation. "I'll take a break if that's what you want."

"Its what you need," Caldwell insisted, relaxing a little now that it appeared Bryan was willing to listen to reason. "Take a month for yourself, go sit on a beach somewhere."

"Can you possibly imagine me at a beach?" Bryan gave him a look, shuddering at the thought even if he was operating under the illusion that he had accepted Caldwell’s advice.

"Not really," Caldwell cracked a little smile, "as long as I don't imagine you here."

"I don't suppose there's any way I can get you to change your mind?" Bryan pressed once more, hoping that their long standing friendship might convince Caldwell that he had not gone off the deep end as so many agents tended to do in this line of work.

"Not unless you want to work elsewhere," the older man said with flint in his eyes. Bryan knew Caldwell enough to realise that he would be true to his word if Bryan did not obey him on this matter.

“Point taken,” Bryan replied with a sigh of resignation. “I will take a break.”

“Good,” Caldwell nodded in approval. “I’ll see you in month and we can talk about a new assignment.”

Bryan hid the frown that almost crossed his face at the prospect of abandoning his labours for the past eighteen months. While Bryan respected Caldwell and his hard-nosed demeanour, the MI6 agent wished his superior were not so obtuse. Bryan was absolutely certain that his suspicions regarding Malcolm Industries were not unfounded, even if he could not prove it to Caldwell to any satisfying degree. Unfortunately, his enforced holiday meant that he had only a month left to get to the bottom of things or he would be taken off the case permanently.

Hopefully, this would work to his advantage. What he did during his holiday was nobody's business but his own. If he chose to spend that time continuing his investigation discreetly, he was within his rights. Of course, it would be preferable if it did not get back to Caldwell what he was doing because technically speaking, that could be construed as disobeying direct orders. Fortunately, Bryan was more than accustomed to skirting the edge of trouble.

It was a skill that came with the job.

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

The black Mercedes rolled silently up the darkened street of Huntington Road, Riverside shortly after midnight. Its engines rumbled low as it crept along the kerb and came to a halt in front of a crimson post box.

The neighbourhood was quiet one and at this hour, most of its inhabitants were safely tucked in bed. It was a cold night that ensured that everyone was driven to either take refuge under the covers or in front of equally warm fires. The ocean breeze had carried the fog in and Cardiff had a decidedly vague look about it this evening. The fog carried with it the faint stench of the sea, though not many noticed it at this hour. Cardiff had a decidedly country atmosphere, therefore folk tended to rise early and go to bed in the same manner.

The driver had chosen his waiting place well. There was no moon tonight, certainly none that could be seen through the heavy clouds overhead. The streetlight provided some illumination but against the fog, the glow was slight. The car waited in the spaces between the radiance of light and watched the house in the corner that was shrouded in darkness. He had been waiting there for several days now, waiting for word to come that this was the one they had been searching for so long.

Six years they had searched the globe, travelled far across the world looking for the one who had brought the ruin of them all, thirsting for vengeance. Six years of disappointments, of eliminated possibilities, of finally nearing the end of the list, knowing that if the prey was not here, they would have to continue searching in more obscure places. That would mean a delay that would anger the one who was wronged the most.

The potential had no idea regarding the presence of the black cars that had taken up vigil over its home the past week. The driver wondered if the prey felt the net closing in, whether insight or premonition warned of the danger that was tightening the noose slowly but surely. Fortunately, it appeared that the occupants of the house were oblivious to everything and completely unaware that time was running out for them.

Perhaps it would not be tomorrow or even the day after, but time was indeed dwindling for the occupants of the house with the red roof and the gnome ornaments in the front garden. They had been waiting too long for this moment. Before the inevitable revenge however, there would be a meeting.

Finally, after a hundred thousand years, they would face each other.

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

Fred could not sleep.

She had waited until mummy had turned of the lights and gone to bed before she dared to slip out of the covers. Padding across the floor in her bare feet because it made the less noise, Fred crept to the windowsill and looked past the glass into the street below. It took a moment for her to find them in the fog but she had no doubt they were there. They had been there the night before and the night before that and how much father beyond those two days, Fred did not know. She only noticed them last night when she had another one of her terrible nightmares. She had felt them very strongly and had awakened screaming once more, frightening mummy to no end and driving daddy to distraction.

After they had put her back to sleep, Fred had ventured out of bed and went to her window, taking care to ensure she was not seen and sure enough, her worst fears were confirmed. They were there in the darkness, waiting for her. All her life, she knew they were searching for her and until now, had prayed that it was a terrible dream and a mistake. But when she saw those dark cars, with their even darker windows that no one could see through, she knew that they had found her. She thought maybe she could run away but she did not know how. She knew that if she stayed, mummy and daddy might get hurt but she knew of no way to slip from under their notice without causing more harm to her parents.

So she stayed and watched them, wondering how long it would be before he followed.

Before she saw him face to face at last.

Part Two
Journeys in the Dark

Nevertheless, Aaron was not about to sit idly by when it appeared that the continued existence of the world that him gave life was under threat by some unknown peril. Even if he had intended to quit the modern world permanently for his existence in Valinor, Aaron could not turn away from his former home in its time of need. If saving one world was the price for returning to the other, then so be it. Aaron was not going to sacrifice one for the other.

For Eve McCaughley, once Arwen Evenstar, it was not the place that was so difficult to leave behind but rather the people. In the last year, she had found a family in Valinor. Even though she still mourned the parents and the brother she had lost before coming to these fair shores, Eve had to concede that in a pervious life, she was daughter to Elrond and Celebrian of Imlardis, sister to Elladan and Elrohir. She could no more deny this any more than she could deny that she was once wife to Aragorn Elessar, now a New York psychiatrist she had willingly joined in exile.

Elrond had not wanted her to leave. The elven lord was afraid that he and his wife would lose their precious daughter again, even if she were wearing the skin of a mortal. If anything had the power to move the usually tough as nails policewoman, it was their concern for her. However, she was too much their daughter in spirit to stay behind when the man she loved was embarking upon a dangerous quest. Her life before Valinor had been dedicated to protecting the weak so she incapable of turning away when she was so needed. Thus when it came time to depart the Undying Lands, Eve found herself just as torn as Aaron, even more so because she was leaving behind family.

For Eve who had seen the absolute worst in human ugliness during her career as a detective with the New York Police Department, investigating homicides no less, Valinor had refreshed her spirit in a way she never dreamed possible. The cynic she had been was eroded away by being here among people who did not take life for granted and cherished every moment of it as something precious and worthy of cultivation.

Even Aaron had noticed that she was less suspicious and her natural aggression seemed to give ay under the affection of the people around her. While Aaron admired Eve’s ability to take care of herself, he sensed that it was partly due to the competition of being in a man’s world. There was an old saying that for a woman to be considered as half as good as a man it was necessary for her to do twice as well. Aaron could only imagine how that would have applied to Eve as a member of the NYPD and was grateful that in Valinor she had no need to prove herself.

In Valinor she had been greatly loved, not merely by her family but by Ariel, Legolas’ wife. As the first woman other than her immediate family that Eve had gotten to know upon her arrival, the two had become fast friends and remained close throughout the year. Despite being a very proper elven wife, Ariel had a streak of mischief that fitted very well with Eve’s own dry humour. Aaron could not even begin to say how disconcerting it was to walk in on the two women on board the Anemone and find them in front of the television set watching videos.

Aaron was certain that there was something deeply sacrilegious about watching ‘Thelma and Louise’ in Valinor.

As anticipated, when it was time to leave, Legolas insisted on accompanying them. Aaron’s best efforts to convince the elf that perhaps it was safer for him to remain behind was met with annoyance as well as complete ignorance. Legolas stated firmly that Aaron would only get himself killed if he was not there to prevent it and after what had happened with John Malcolm, the human could not dispute the elf’s words. Legolas was not only very adept at keeping himself alive during a battle, but equally capable of ensuring his comrades in arms remained the same way. In truth, Aaron was rather glad that Legolas was coming with him. He was so accustomed to having the elf by his side that it was impossible to imagine that he had ever known a time when Legolas was not apart of his life and was pleased to know that great friendships, like great loves, transcended time.

Elladan and Elrohir had wanted to accompany them on their return journey but Gandalf had insisted that they remain, declaring that their place was at their parent’s side during the time that their sister was away. Aaron suspected that this was merely an excuse to lessen the burden on Elrond and Celebrian if they should fail in what they intend to do. To lose one child was terrible enough, but to lose all three was more than anyone should have to bear, mortal or elf. While Gandalf was not at all fatalistic about their chances, Aaron was grateful for his compassion regarding the feelings of Elrond and Celebrian whom Aaron had come to care for as much as Eve.

Ariel had wanted to accompany her husband across the sea but even Eve discouraged the idea because the nature of the threat they faced and were required to stop was too great to risk any more lives than necessary. Legolas was grateful for Eve’s support when he attempted to convince Ariel of this. His wife was far younger than he and the hurt of losing her once, when she had been Melia was burned into his memory, so much so that he could never bear to have her in a position where her existence might be in jeopardy.

Ariel was bitter about being left behind again but understood this secret fear her husband harboured for as long as they been together. It had been revealed to her by the elf friend Gimli, the only dwarf to ever set foot on Valinor. Before he died, Gimli had told Ariel about Melia, the woman Legolas believed her to be. They had not been wed yet although it was clear to all that they loved each other by then. However, this news had almost halted their betrothal because Ariel had no wish to be a replacement for someone else, even if Legolas was convinced that she was in possession of Melia’s soul. It had taken Legolas a long time to win her hand and while she believed he saw her as a person in her own right, she indulged him his need to protect her from harm.

Galadriel and Celeborn seeing the worry of their daughter Celebrian regarding Eve’s departure, sent Haldir to accompany the travellers on their quest. Haldir was more than eager to see the new lands and he was a capable warrior in any situation. Although Gandalf had wanted to keep the company small, he understood the lady’s desire and agreed to the elf’s presence when it came time to leave.

Cirdan and his shipwrights had set to work on the Anemone before their departure, making the craft a fitting vassal to take them across the sea. Although they altered little in the structure of the ship, there were certain additions that were unmistakably elven and enough had been added to the original to ensure that when the Anemone returned to Valinor, it would do so without requiring the Valar to lift the veil between worlds.

Finally the Anemone departed Valinor, bound for the new world and the darkness that threatened to consume Arda completely if it was not stopped. Fortunately, the Valar had some sense of where the evil was strongest and so the vessel’s course was set not towards the Americas but to what Gandalf called the Old World. At first Aaron thought he was referring to Europe but during their voyage, learnt that the Old World was what the Istar called the lands that were once Middle earth.

They would arrive in what used to be by Gandalf’s reckoning, the lands of Eriador and by Aaron’s reckoning, Great Britain.

Thus at the same time that Bryan Miller was gambling his future in MI6 on a desperate bid to learn the truth about Malcolm Industries, the Anemone had pierced the curtain between dimensions and was making good time across the North Atlantic.

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

Despite the circumstances of their return to civilisation, neither Aaron nor Eve could deny that they were in some small way, excited by the prospect of returning to the world of their birth, if only for awhile. Both understood that if they were to succeed in ending the threat of the darkness that had been the source of that terrible vision in Galadriel’s mirror, their return to Valinor would be permanent. This would be their last excursion to the modern world.

The situation had demanded their presence in this quest but the Valar had shut their doors to the world a long time ago and according to Gandalf, Iluvutar’s plan for the race of men was unknown, even to them. The Valar could give neither Aaron nor Eve immortality because the fate of men was not in their hands and the design of an even greater power. What could be given was a long and happy life in Valinor but to accept it in its entirety meant Eve and Aaron had to turn their backs on everything they had known before.

It was both an easy and yet painful choice to make.

As the Anemone sailed through the dark waters of the North Atlantic, drawing closer towards the northern coast of Scotland, Aaron found Eve alone on the deck, watching the familiar stars overhead while being lashed by the strong winds. The air was heavy with salt and cold enough for him to be very grateful that he had opted to join her wearing a warm coat. She on the other hand was wearing one of the heavy cloaks provided by Celebrian and as she stood with the sea behind her, the wind blowing her dark hair across the rosy bloom of her cheeks, Aaron thought she never seemed more elvish than at that moment.

"Hey," he said sliding his arms around her waist as they drew to each other’s warmth in the cold night air. "Are you alright? You seem pretty far away."

"I’m fine," she smiled, savouring the touch of him but unable to shake the uneasiness from her posture. Unfortunately, Aaron knew her well enough now to see through her masks, a trait she sometimes wished he did not have. Eve, who was by nature a very private person found his ability to see straight through her rather disconcerting, although there were moments when it felt very good to have someone know her so well and love her for all the things that she was, without fear or recrimination.

"You don’t look fine," he pointed out, illustrating this point perfectly. "You forget what I used to do for a living. Come on," he said lowering his eyes to hers, "tell the doctor what is on your mind." He asked again in his best German accent.

"Oh please, not the Sigmund Freud impersonation," she winced before laughing a little. "I knew there was a reason I hate shrinks."

"Actually I was doing Schwarzeneggar," he threw her mischievous wink, "but Freud does fit. So tell me what’s wrong or I’ll be forced to use do some other lousy impersonation."

"How about impersonating a same person," she deadpanned.

"Oh that’s cold," he returned in mock hurt. ‘The maiden doth wound me mortally."

"Now you sound like Leggy," Eve replied wondering how a man with such a zany sense of humour had ever been a psychiatrist and such a good one at that. She supposed that was why she loved Aaron so much, other than the fact that fate had decreed they were destined to be together through several life times. In this life anyway, it was because he always managed to surprise her and bring a smile to her face no matter what the situation. His ability to take things in stride, no matter how strange they were, was one of the reasons why he had taken to Valinor as well as he did and also had aided her own transition by way of his support.

"Don’t let him hear you call him that," Aaron advised. "The guy can pin a gnat with an arrow from half a mile away. I’m pretty sure he’ll get you if he hears you calling him that nickname."

"Who knew elves could be so touchy?" Eve shrugged remembering the expression on Legolas’ face the first time she had use that abbreviation of his name. It was also the first time Eve was made aware of the fact that elves could curse and quite colourfully when the mood took them.

"Not me," Aaron replied, "I haven’t seen him that ticked off since that goon in New York called him pretty."

Eve laughed, recalling Legolas’ sensitivity on that subject before her tone became sombre as she returned to what was weighing heavily on her thoughts since they had left Valinor behind. "I’m a little worried about what’s going to happen when we get back to civilisation, Doc."

"You mean because of this quest?" Aaron asked with likeminded seriousness, now that she was getting to the heart of what was bothering her.

"No, I mean with you and what we left behind in New York," she answered grimly. "You were the only suspect they had for the destruction of the Malcolm Building and you disappeared. That’s a red flag to every law enforcement agency in the world. Even if they don’t have any proof you were responsible for what happened, they’ll want to question you at the very least. Aaron, it might have been better if you had stayed behind."

"And let you come out of here on your own?" Aaron balked at the suggestion even though he was well aware of how vulnerable he was. "No way in hell was I letting you face what I saw in Galadriel’s mirror alone. The whole world is in danger and I won’t sit by and do nothing because I’m afraid of what might happen to me. Besides, Gandalf needs us both; he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t. Hell, the Valar weren’t happy about having either of us leave, but they allowed it because of what’s going on. If what I saw in that mirror is a nuclear threat then you and I are the only ones who know our way around enough to help him stop it. I know how much trouble I am in Eve, but I was not going to sit this one out when so much is at stake. Whatever’s waiting for me out there, I’ll face it when the time comes."

Eve was smiling at him, her eyes radiant with admiration and love for him as he made his courageous speech. "We’ll face it together," she declared, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it tighter.

"Yeah," Aaron replied happily, delighting in how good it felt to have her love him. It gave him courage enough to bring up a subject he had been idling with for the past few months. "You know Eve, we should think about getting engaged when this is all over."

Her eyes widened, "this is a proposal?"

"You want me to get on my knees?" He looked at her with a smile, "the deck’s wet but I’ll do it."

"After a year in Valinor, have you learnt nothing about romance?" Eve gave him a look of sarcasm.

"Well I didn’t think you went in for that kind of thing…..," Aaron returned and realised immediately that despite being a psychiatrist, he had picked the absolute worst thing to say to her.

"What you don’t think I’d appreciate romance?" She asked apparently hurt and took on the expression of a wounded bird but her posture and the hands on her hips were declaration of war.

"No that’s not what I mean…" Aaron started to stammer, deciding he would have to do some serious back pedalling if he wanted to escape her wrath. In desperation, he blurted out the first thing to come into his mind since he had made a mess of his proposal of marriage. "Jesus, Eve, do you want to get married or not?" .

"Yes!" Eve barked back, highly amused by his efforts to salvage the situation. She really did enjoy toying with him. He may be a brilliant psychiatrist but like all men, suffered the affliction of not having the slightest inkling on how a woman’s mind worked.

"Well that was about as easy as having a tooth pulled…" he rolled his eyes in resignation realising that she was behaving this way in order to amuse herself at his expense.

"And the charm just keeps coming," Eve laughed, kissing him lightly on the lips to indicate that all was forgiven.

"I love you know," Aaron grinned at her, "despite the fact that you’re a pain in the ass."

Aaron was still trying to get accustomed to the whole notion of Eve being a proper maiden. "Its difficult to see you as a proper maiden when you can wipe the floor with me."

"Don’t you forget it either," she replied and fell into silence as they watched the stars above them in the wake of their infant pledge to share their lives together

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

While Aaron and Eve were enjoying their sojourn on the deck of the Anemone, Gandalf was wondering whether it had been entirely wise to allow Haldir to accompany them on their quest to the new world. It was not that the elf was not capable of facing the alien environment they would soon find themselves, far from it as a matter of fact. Haldir had proved his worth repeatedly through the ages as a formidable warrior and an elf that could be relied upon to accomplish any task set before him. It was just that whenever they were in close proximity, Haldir and Legolas simply brought out the worst in each other.

It was not that they disliked one another but were rather two different personalities that always seemed to react to each other like the tide colliding against the rocks. They were polar opposites in almost everything and while they could forget these differences when the situation demanded it, for the rest of the time being in their company bordered on tiresome and down right exasperating. It did not aid matters much that they were trapped on a ship with many days left to their voyage and the patience of a soul as wizened as Gandalf’s was starting to think the only way to cease their endless bickering was to throw them both overboard.

"You will damage it," Legolas grumbled as he saw Haldir with the small, squarish box used to operate the device Aaron called the television set.

"I will not," Haldir returned with annoyance as he proceeded to press every button on the device in quick succession, sending a flurry of images flashing across the television screen.

Since they had emerged from the barrier that concealed Valinor from the rest of the modern world, the set was once again able to receive television signals. The closer they came to civilisation, the greater the intensity of the signals and soon they were receiving normal television programming from whatever station they were close enough to receive. For Aaron, this had been particularly useful in finding out the current state of world events. For Gandalf, it had given Haldir and Legolas reason to argue about who watched what, which translated into a constant battle as to who would get control of the remote.

At the moment, it appeared Haldir was winning.

"You are not meant to do that," Legolas insisted. "You are supposed to choose one."

"I find that if you push the button fast enough, you can see many things at once," Haldir returned with a smirk, mostly because what he knew what he was doing was irritating Legolas to no end. The former Prince of Mirkwood kept such tight rein of his emotions that Haldir enjoyed the opportunity to beset that remarkable composure with some well needed strife. Despite their bickering, Haldir enjoyed Legolas’ company for that very reason. Annoying Legolas kept Haldir’s wits sharp and by the same token, kept the elven prince from taking himself too seriously, which he often did.

"I do not want to see many things at once," Legolas replied, unaware that in the corner of the room, there was an Istar whose patience was dwindling as rapidly as the weed he was puffing away in his pipe. "I wish to see if we can find the adventure of Xena, the warrior princess."

Haldir looked at him, "what is she the princess of?"

"It does not really say," Legolas answered seriously, "but she battles remarkable beasts with weapons that are most interesting. When I was in this world before, Elladan, Elrohir and I were privy to many of her legends."

"I see," Haldir mused to himself, thinking it highly improper for a princess of any realm to be running about battling dangerous creatures. He certainly could not imagine the Evenstar conducting herself in such a fashion during her day. Nevertheless, he pondered the notion briefly before resuming his operation of seeing as much as he could on the set all at once.

Legolas could stand it no more, seeing the images flashing before him and finally reached over to Haldir so that he could retrieve the device. "I think it is about time that I had a turn."

"I am not finished with it," Haldir returned, keeping it beyond his reach and forcing Legolas to make a more strenuous effort to take it from it.

Gandalf watched in growing disgust as the elves, a hundred thousand years each, began squabbling over the device like a two small boys arguing over a toy.

"All right that will quite enough from the both of you," Gandalf stormed over from his chair and liberated the remote from Haldir. "You are the Eldar. You are meant to comport yourself with dignity, not behave in this childish manner! Since it is clear that neither of you can be expected to act responsibly, I shall take the device."

With that, he liberated the remote from Haldir and continued to berate them, while waving the device in their faces to extenuate his point.

It was at this moment that Eve and Aaron returned to the room. Both were silent as they surveyed the scene, however, it was Eve who finally deigned to speak.

"Oh look, our babies have finally become men," she replied sarcastically to no one in particular, with an expression on her face that was not at all surprised by what she was seeing, "they’re fighting over the remote."

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

Following the destruction of the Malcolm Building in New York, Malcolm Industries had understandingly decided to remove the base of its operations from the United States to a new location across the Atlantic. Although the company had branches scattered throughout the globe, until destruction of its central hub, they had been peopled with underlings, not the corporate hierarchy. When the announcement had been made that John Malcolm’s heir, the then unknown David Saeran was also the new president of the company, it had been followed by Saeran’s declaration that the new corporate head quarters of his benefactor’s company would be in London.

It had taken time for Bryan to find any information on David Saeran other than what the company propaganda machine was churning out so readily to any of the Fleet Street rags and tabloid papers. According to those populist sources, Saeran was a blood relation of the Malcolm aristocracy, albeit it a rather obscure line. There had been some elaborate details of ancestry in relation to whose brother and whose sister was married to whom but it in the end, it came to the same conclusion; Saeron was the legitimate heir to Malcolm Industries and the Malcolm fortune in the event John Malcolm had no progeny of his own. If the blood ties were not enough then Malcolm’s will solidified Saeran’s position irrefutably.

Bryan’s own investigation had produced some information beyond what was made public, but he knew it was not enough to give him any real understanding of what Saeran was about. Until his promotion to CEO of the company, Saeran had been listed on the company’s annual reports as vice president although he did not occupy the role in any conventional sense. Irish by birth, Saeran had spent his youth in England and was educated at Oxford. It was only after Malcolm brought him into the company in his twenties, did his globetrotting career begin. By the looks of it, he was Malcolm’s chief trouble-shooter, travelling across the planet and ensuring that Malcolm Industries’ interests were being met. The PR people had him likened to a Richard Branson type. Saeran was young, accessible and unlike his predecessor, highly visible. His dynamism according to some business magazines was the fresh blood the conglomerate needed to expand its interests into the 21st century.

Just looking at him made Byran nervous.

Every cover that Saeran seemed to grace lately had the image of a man approaching his forties with a winning smile, rakish good looks and sunburnt blond hair. He was not much younger than Bryan and appeared to have the world at his feet. Byran wondered if his dislike stemmed a little from jealousy at all this man had accomplished in his life while Bryan’s own existence resembled an approaching train wreck he could not at all avoid. There were even moments when Bryan considered that perhaps it was jealousy that motivated him to the belief that Saeran was behind Black Serpent.

He shook the thought out of his head. If jealousy were the case, then Viggo Mortenson would be a marked man by now.

After being told rather firmly by Caldwell to take a holiday, Bryan had left MI6 and returned to his flat in London, where he considered how he would use his month to bring closure to his investigation. Some how he had to get a break in the case or he was going to lose control of it completely. It said something about how convinced he was about the company’s complicity when he measured the consequences of his failure by the lives that would be lost rather than his own career. As jaded as he was, Bryan was still a patriot who believed that he what he did for a living served a greater purpose. It was dirty job he was doing, but it ensured that decent people were able to go about their everyday lives without fear and with their liberties intact.

Thus when he learnt that David Saeran had returned to London, Bryan knew that his best hope would be to place the president of Malcolm Industries under tight surveillance until Saeran led him to the evidence he need. Bryan was utterly sure that Saeran was responsible for Black Serpent and if not, knew something about it. He was certain because he had no other lead left to follow. His career was riding on what he would do in the next four weeks. If he were going to jeopardize it, at least he would do so for more than just circumstantial evidence and a hunch.

Packing everything he would need so that he could begin the round the clock surveillance on the sprawling estate in Windsor that David Saeran now called home, Bryan had a specific plan of attack. Helping himself to quite a bit in the MI6 surveillance department before he had left for his supposed ‘vacation’, Bryan had every intention of infiltrating David Saeran’s life and learning his secrets. How he would explain it to Caldwell would come after he had found what he needed in evidence to prove Saeran’s complicity in the Black Serpent organization.

Driving down to the verdant estates sprawled across Windsor where only the very wealthy and the royals could afford to call home, Bryan knew how to blend in even in such lofty surroundings. The best way was to go about unnoticed by the rich was impersonate someone who was not. The upper classes tended to notice their equals and what they considered the serving classes were relegated to a kind of oblivion beneath their notice. For Bryan, this class division served him well because it allowed him to keep watch on Saeran’s home whilst he was in England.

In fact when Saeran had left the estate for London a few days after Bryan began his surveillance, the MI6 agent took the opportunity to enter the mansion so that he could install a few listening devices to aid in his investigation. He had entered the premises in the dead of night, navigating through the maze of security measures Saeran had in place with great care. For a man who deemed himself accessible to all, Saeran’s home was more fortified than Downing Street, with high security cameras, alarms that were triggers by micro density changes in the atmosphere, laser grids and even motion detectors. All of it served to convince Bryan that Saeran was a man with something to hide.

Bryan installed a number of bugs, ensuring that their hiding place would not be suspect until a regular surveillance sweep was conducted, a procedure he was certain Saeran undertook frequently. No man fortified his home with such care without taking that extra precaution. However, Bryan had timed his incursion a day or so after Saeran’s security people had conducted the procedure, to ensure that he would have a good number of days gleaning useful information before the bugs were finally discovered. Hopefully that would give him enough for further leads and he could abandon the surveillance for something more tangible.

If Caldwell learn what he was doing, Bryan could have found more than his job in danger. MI6 was not allowed to operate within the country. MI6’s sister agency, MI5 and its affiliate, the Special Branch of Scotland Yard, dealt with affairs effecting the internal security of the nation. What Bryan was doing broke all the rules and was very much against the law. All these factors laid a heavy burden upon the agent when he conducted his surveillance, listening to inconsequential gossip for most part. Saeran’s return to his estate did not alter this very much and most of what Bryan was overhearing, was incidental chatter that had to do with the running of Malcolm Industries, little else.

After almost a week of listening, Bryan was starting to consider that perhaps Saeran was too crafty to discuss anything relating to Black Serpent or his illegal activities, when his estate was staffed with so many that could unwittingly overhear him. Bryan began to consider what he would do next when a chance telephone call changed his mind dramatically.

It came through Saeran’s private cell phone whose frequency Bryan had been monitoring as soon as he discovered what it was. Bryan had been driven to this further invasion of privacy when he had been unable to glean any information from Saeran’s regular phone lines and this had been a measure borne out of desperation as well as expediency.

The caller on the other end of the phone spoke in a bare hiss. His voice, if it could be called that was almost a whisper and within the confines of the van that Bryan had been conducting his illegal surveillance, the agent shuddered a little at the sound of it. Hearing it made Bryan’s heart pound a little and his chest contracted with uneasiness. The voice chilled him to the bone.

"Is it him?" Saeran’s cool, measured voice had asked.

"YESSSSS...." came the answer.

"Good," Saeran seemed pleased, "wait until it is dark and then bring him here. I want him alive."

"YESSSSS," the unnamed voice on the end of the line answered in that same unearthly voice.

"Kill everyone else. Fail me in this and you will know my wrath."

Wit that the call ended with no more being said. Bryan straightened within the confines of the darkened van, excited by the words Saeran had spoken because now he finally had proof that the man was dealing in something more than corporate finance. By his own words, Saeran had ordered someone’s death and Bryan had the proof of it on tape. However, even as success was finally within his reach, Bryan’s thoughts sobered to the kidnapping that Saeran had ordered, not to mention the death warrant for those who might be in proximity to witness it.

He followed the trace on the call and found that it had originated from Cardiff, in the Riverside district to be exact. Unfortunately, he was unable to be more exact then that which concerned him greatly. If he turned this over to MI5 where it ought to rightly go, they would ask how he had come by this information and his revelation might give them doubts as to whether or not they should proceed. While the inevitable bureaucratic squabbling took place as to whether or not they should act on the information, since it was acquired by an agent conducting an illegal surveillance, Saeran’s men would reach their targets and innocent people would die.

He had to do this himself.

Bryan had enough to burden his conscience in regards to what he had done for queen and country during his career but under those circumstances, he was under orders as any soldier might have been. However, if he did nothing in this instance, it would be on no one’s head but his own. While he had shed blood in the service of England, he could not simply stand by when innocent civilians were about to be murdered, not under any circumstances. There was still enough of him that belonged to the human race that would not permit him to let it happen.

Driving the van immediately to the garage he had rented during his time in the area, Bryan exchanged the dark van for his own vehicle, a 1973 jaguar sedan in tasteful British racing green. As an agent in the field, the car had come equipped with company plates as well as a boot full of optional extras which was not included in the original sale or listed in the owner’s manual. Bryan knew he had little time. Saeran’s agents was instructed to wait until dark, so Bryan had possibly a matter of hours to reach Cardiff and find the proposed victims in this whole affair before it was too late.

It was still daylight when he left Windsor and headed towards Cardiff, taking the west road to Cleveden where he would cross Mouth of the Servern on the ferry. He wished he had a better idea of time but could not expect Saeran to make it too easy for him since the man was unaware that he was listening. Still, he had enough information to save him some valuable time when he arrived at Riverside and the sensibility of waiting until dark to attempt the kidnapping gave him valuable time.

It was still a few hours to dusk and Bryan intended to make every second count.

***********

Fred did not want to go to school today.

She told mummy she was sick and though she showed no signs of running a fever or impending cold, fortunately mummy had believed her because she was not a child prone to lying about such things. Daddy had gone off to work, despite Fred’s entreaties for him to stay at home and watch cartoons with her. He had almost relented, she thought because the request was not one she made often, but eventually the annoying sense of adult responsibility told him to refuse her and go to work as planned. Fred was disappointed and spent the rest of the morning pouting inside, even though she was pleased that mummy at least had decided not to go to the markets today.

Instead she spent a wonderful day, following her mother around the house, keeping her in close sights as mummy did the washing and the housekeeping. Delighting in all the little mundane tasks that personified her mother in Fred’s young mind, from the making of the beds to preparing her lunch. All this little girl committed to memory like something that needed treasuring. She watched the day go by in sadness, knowing that it was all coming to and end because the feeling of doom that had plagued her all her life had taken on a life of its own in the past few days.

The black cars with their black windows had become more frequent outside her street in the dead of night. They did not think they were seen and to everyone else, they continued to remain anonymous to all. Except to Fred. She saw them and she knew that the net around her safe existence was tightening. This morning, she was struck by the feeling that it would be the last time she awoke in her bed. She looked at the sky blue walls covered in pictures of Thomas the Tank Engine, the Powerpuff Girls and even the odd Harry Potter. She looked at her creme desk covered with crayons and coloring pens scattered about and at the shelves where her favorite toys and books were kept with this knowledge that her time in this room was almost done.

When her father came that evening, he had put her on his lap and turned on the television so that they could watch cartoons together. He explained to her why he could not stay with her earlier in the day and Fred accepted it because she was grateful that he was here with her now. They watched television together and then had a lovely dinner, where there were smiles and laughter around the table. Fred watched her mother and father who were good parents considering that she had been a most perplexing child. She had given them reason to worry and yet they had never been unkind or cross. No matter how strangely she behaved, to them she was their daughter and nothing else mattered.

She branded her memory with everything about her mother, from her long golden hair to her bright smile and the faint hint of lilac that remained after she had left the room. For the rest of her life, Fred would always associate the flower with her mother and the memory would bring tears to her eyes. Just as she would associate rough corduroy and Saturday morning cartoons with her father. When it was time to go to bed, Fred had returned to her bedroom, emerging from beneath the covers once the light had been turned off. Stealing furtively across the floor towards the window, she peered through the curtains swaying back and forth in the breeze to the street and saw them waiting in the shadows.

There were more of them now. Before there had been only one dark, black car with the tinted windows parked in the dead of night watching her house, but now she spied another. They were parked on either side of the street, like dark heralds awaiting the arrival of their terrible master. Fred could not sense that he was there but she felt the darkness of his minions and knew that the sinister feeling of dread growing in her heart was because they were no longer contented to watch. Tonight, she would see them in the flesh for the first time.

She had dreamed of them but until this morning, had not remembered.

Yet as she saw them across the street, she knew that they had always been chasing her in one form or another. They preceded the coming of her nemesis, the one that had used her dreams to see into her life, the one who made it so hard to close her eyes or trust sleep. She thought that perhaps she should warn her parents, to reveal the presence of the dark men who had been stalking them for many days now. However, she feared that she would not be believed or worse yet, her parents might believe her and do something foolish like confronting them.

Fred watched them until the moon hung high in the night sky and the rest of the neighborhood was drowned in slumber. Lights diminished across the street as people went to bed and forgot the world outside for a time. The noises emanating from the downstairs of her own house fell into this stasis and Fred knew that when it was quiet, they would come. She watched by the window as the cars continued their vigil, the smooth finish of their paint looking as black as infinity as the hour of their awakening approached.

She counted three emerging from one car and they moved like a rolling fog, silently progressing up the pavement towards the front gate. From the other car, she saw two more men appear in the darkness but they seemed to linger outside of the house. Fred knew that her time had run out when she saw them pushing open the gate and was finally spurred into moving. Quickly, she ran out of her room, her small feet making loud noises against the hardwood floor. Bursting into her parent’s room, the noise of her running feet had already begun to stir them out of their slumber.

"Mummy, daddy wake up!" She cried out frantically.

Already alerted somewhat by the sound of pounding footsteps, her parents sat up almost immediately in their beds, having grown accustomed to being awakened suddenly since the onset of her nightmares. It was her mother Geraldine who managed a coherent response first.

"Fred darling what is it?" She asked wiping the sleep out of her eyes and staring at her panic stricken child.

"We have to go mummy, they’re coming!" Fred declared staring out the window even though she could not see them from her present position next to her parent’s bed.

"The bad men!" She returned sharply. "They’re outside!"

Both parents exchanged a weary expression of disbelief, certain that the root of this declaration was from another one of their child’s terrifying nightmares. Her mother sat upright in her bed and drew Fred to her in a warm embrace, in an effort to allay her daughter’s fears.

"Its just a dream darling," Geraldine said comfortingly.

"No it’s not!" Fred insisted, vindicated in her opinion that had she told them the truth earlier she would not have been believed. "They’re there mummy! They’ve been watching us from their cars at night. They’re coming up the path now!"

Perhaps it was the combination of the fear in her eyes or the claim that what terrified her was not a dream but something real that caused her father to climb out of bed and hurry to the window. Whatever the reason, when he arrived at the glass and looked through, what he was saw was enough to cast all further doubt from his mind.

"Gerry, take Fred and get out of the house," he ordered firmly. His gaze moving swiftly towards the cordless telephone on the bedside table.

"What is it Edward?" His wife asked automatically sweeping her young daughter in her arms.

"Do it now!" He shouted as he picked up the receiver and began dialing furiously.

Fred’s mother nodded blindly and picked up her young daughter. She cast a brief glance at her husband who was waving with his hand for her to keep going while he waited anxiously for the telephone to connect him to the police station. Turning back towards the darkened hallway, she took a few more steps when she heard glass breaking.

"Hush darling," Geraldine Bailey spoke softly, not wanting to know what agency had allowed their daughter the foresight to warn them of the danger, not until they were safely away from here. She cast an anxious glance at the upstairs bedroom, hoping her husband would join them soon. She could hear him talking and felt her heart soar with relief when it appeared that he had managed to contact the police. Help would arrive soon enough.

Mother and daughter reached the bottom of the steps and were about to take the parlor route to the backdoor when suddenly, five shapes appeared before them. Fred screamed as she saw the five men in front of them, their pasty colored faced with eyes hidden behind sunglasses in the dark close in on them.

"What do you want?" Gerry demanded as she made a frantic dash towards the kitchen.

They did not speak but one of them produced the gun that had been hiding in the shadows of their gloved palms. Fred saw him aim and pull the trigger. The sound was not booming as she expected a gun to be but soft and muffled. It was the last moment of sanity before she started screaming. Her mother’s head flew backwards, blood exploding from the back of her skull as the single bullet tore away in that moment everything that Geraldine Bailey would ever be.

"MUMMY!" Fred screamed as the life bled out of her mother’s body and they both tumbled to the floor.

Fred scrambled to her mother and saw her face covered in blood, the beautiful gold hair that danced in the sunlight was now matted in red. Her mother’s eyes were wide opened and staring into nothingness as Fred shook her hard, trying to wake her even though she knew in her heart that it was too late.

As she had always known.

"Mummy, please wake up!" She squealed and shook the woman desperately, Eeyore still in her grip and similarly covered in red.

Her cries had brought her father running down the staircase and Fred looked up to warn him of what was waiting for them but it was too late.

"Oh my god Gerry!" He shouted in a mixture of horror and a sob as he saw his wife lying in an expanding pool of her own blood.

The bullets pummeled him in mid torso, a quick succession of shots that riddled his yellow pajamas top with holes oozing blood. He was half way down the steps when the shots were fired, stealing his life and the ability to control his movement one after the other. He nevertheless continued his descent in a nasty tumble that ended with the terrible crunch of bone when he finally reached the foot of the stairs, metres away from his dead wife and within reach of his weeping daughter.

"Daddy!" Fred screamed, tearing herself away from her mother’s dead form and crawling towards her father, whom she did not know was beyond hope. His head rolled back as he came to a stop at the foot of the steps, blood trickling down the corner of his lips as he remained frozen and unmoving. She tried to rouse him but was no more successful than she had been with the attempt to wake her mother. Her tears grew more frantic because in her mind she had seen this scene so many times before. She had seen them die in this very fashion but until this moment when it became more than just a nightmare, when it transcended the dreamscape into a reality, did she remember it.

Fred raised her eyes to her parent’s murderers and saw them converging on her. If they had seemed frightening when she had spied them from her window earlier, they now appeared absolutely terrifying. The leader of them stepped forward, walking past the body of her mother as if he did not even see it because he had only eyes for Fred. Fred wanted to run but she was too afraid and after seeing her parents killed before her, no longer knew whether or not she wanted to flee. She wanted to die with them.

He looked at her through the darkened sunglasses and reached down with a gloved hand. Fred tried to shrink away but his hands were around her throat before she even think about putting any distance between them. He lifted her off the floor, causing her to drop Eeyore as her tiny hands clawed at her neck in desperation because she could not breath. As her feet began to dangle over the floor, kicking hard in desperation as the fingers around her neck held her in a vise like grip, she found it becoming harder to draw breath.

Her captor pulled her forward, until her small face was inches from him. In desperation, Fred lashed out with one tiny fist, unwittingly knocking the sunglasses from his face. Fred stopped struggling when she looked into the man’s face and saw that his pasty white skin was not skin at all but rather a mask, a clever rubber mask like she saw in the windows of costume stores. Where there should have been eyes, there was only the glow of red. He seemed to note her discovery and lowered his face so that it was inches away from hers and spoke through the slits that made up the mouth of the mask, uttering one word only in a slow, prolonged whisper.

"Bagginsssss....."

**********

It was well after dark when Bryan finally arrived in Cardiff and made his way to Riverside. Upon arriving in the coastal town in Wales, Bryan began his searched for David Saeran’s agents in the community of Riverside, a collection of nice, middle classed homes not far from a popular co-op market. It was a pretty place, the kind one would imagine as the height of simple, domestic bliss. Why David Saeran had ordered a kidnapping and a murder in such surroundings was more than confusing. Who was this man that had earned Saeran’s displeasure enough to warrant a kidnapping and the death of anyone around him? Was it someone who could connect the tycoon to Black Serpent? Bryan really hoped so because there would be hell to pay when he finally told Caldwell what he had been up to the past week.

He had driven around Riverside, searching for something he knew not what, aware only that he was close to it. Up and down the suburbs he had driven, seeing nothing but ordinary folk going about their business. Lights dimmed early in the neighborhood and after that the only other source of life seemed to be the local pub. Yes, it was a nice area to live and under different circumstances, a place Bryan would not have minded putting down roots himself.

He had almost started to wonder whether or not he had been mistaken when he saw two, nondescript cars parked on opposite sides of a quiet street. Both were black, with tinted windows and obscured license plates. Bryan had been in the game enough to know what an unmarked car looked like. Slowing down as he proceeded down the street, he tried to locate the occupants of the car and discovered that they were not in the vehicle when he heard a scream. Pulling the car immediately to the pavement, Bryan emerged into the night air and listened carefully for the sound once more. What he was rewarded with after a brief pause was a man’s frantic voice before it was abruptly silenced.

Bryan acted quickly, going to his boot and removing the weapons he had stocked there. The optional extras, which he so misleadingly called them, were an automatic rifle with self-loading magazines. Once he was armed, Bryan made his way to the source of the cries. He could see movement through the open front door of the house as he made his way silently into the grounds, avoiding the obvious front steps. Peering through a window, he could see two people on the floor. The light was dim but the manner in which they were lying indicated to Bryan that it was already too late for them.

There were five of them, Bryan counted, spread out through the room. All wearing the same dark clothes, hats and all. The leader was holding a child in his grip, a tiny waif of thing who was obviously terrified and was clutching the hand around her throat, trying desperately to break free. Bryan was outnumbered and he knew it but could not bring himself to do nothing when that child was in so much need. Where was this man that they had been ordered to kidnap? Had it all gone wrong and resulted in his death instead of his abduction? If that were the case, then the child was beyond his ability to save even if he did go in there with guns blazing.

However, instead of snapping her neck easily, the killer relinquished his grip of her neck and lowered her down. The child crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath as her parent’s killer regarded her like a specimen in her.

"Take her..." he ordered in that terrible hiss of a voice, and caused the others to move towards her.

Bryan knew that he would never have a chance and immediately opened fired through the window. The child crouched low, giving him the opportunity to act and with careful precision emptied a dozen bullets through the window. Windows shattered and objects were torn apart as the bullets flew through the room and at Saeran’s men. They turned their attention to the Bryan, trying to discern the source of the bullets but the MI6 agent was already barreling through the front door and opened fire once more. Some managed to return fire but he dove beneath their range towards the young girl who was now screaming loudly in terror.

The man closest to Bryan had been the one holding the child in his grip and as he approached her once more, Bryan threw a hard kick into his sternum. The man doubled over but Bryan’s attention was soon drawn to his comrades. Spinning around, he opened fired on those who had regained their equilibrium after his unexpected arrival on the scene. He released another hail of bullets, sending them sprawling as the bullets tore through their bodies and turned his attention to the man he had just driven away from the child. When he turned to Bryan, the MI6 agents stopped short because he was staring at two crimson point of light where there should have been eyes. For a moment, Bryan thought he was dreaming until he heard movement behind him and saw that the men he had shot, were far from dead but were rising to their feet as if he had never fired a single bullet at them.

"What the hell...." Bryan stared to say but cut short his exclamations of shock because he was nowhere out of danger yet.

The creature with the crimson eyes started towards him while peeling off his mask. Bryan stared mesmerized as the rubberized mask fell to the ground and in place of a face was empty air. This was not possible, he wanted to say but the words would not come because he was still too stunned by what he was seeing. They were converging upon him and he knew without any doubt that to stay was to die. A split second was all he needed before he was running towards the child, sweeping her into his arms as he covered his retreat in another hail of bullets. The bullets may not have been able to stop the creatures falling into swift pursuit but it was capable of slowing them down.

"Hold on to me!" he ordered Fred as he held her tight and was grateful when the child obeyed without question, her hands and legs wrapping tightly around his neck and waist respectively. He emptied almost an entire magazine into the enemy when he reached the backdoor and pulled it open. The cold air of the night swept past him as he escaped into the backyard. In the distance, he could hear the siren of police cars answering the calls of neighbors who had no doubt reported the disturbance and the gunfire.

Bryan looked behind him and saw that they were giving chase, although his efforts to widen the gap with gunfire had succeeded. He leapt across the fence into the neighbors yard and use the building and the darkness to return to the street where his car was parked. Some of the five had guessed his intent and had doubled back to intercept him on the street, fortunately Bryan was closer to his car then they were to him. He jumped into the Jaguar with the child still clinging to him with seconds to spare. The enemy was shooting at him and too many times did the bullets come very close to meeting flesh. Bryan tore Fred off him and placed her in the passenger’s seat when he saw the creatures approaching him through the rear view mirror.

Unwilling to allow them any closer, at least until he knew what the hell he was up against, Bryan started the engines and threw the car into gear. The Jaguar roared to life beneath him and surged forward when the MI6 agent jammed his foot on the accelerator and sent it off to a speeding start. In the rear view mirror, he could see the men in the dark suits making for their car, intending to give pursuit. However, the sound of sirens was drawing nearer and as Bryan sped away from the Riverside district, he turned quickly into a small alley, to avoid letting the police see him, he knew that their pursuers would not be able to evade the authorities so easily.

Just as well he decided, he needed to think about what he had seen. His mind was still wrestling with the notion that any of what he had witnessed was real. The man, no it was not man, it something invisible, given shape by the clothes it wore, with crimson red eyes, that could not be killed, at least not by bullets. Bryan kept driving, putting as much distance between himself and those things, whatever they were because he did not know what to do. It was not until after Cardiff was behind him did he remember that he had a passenger.

Part Three
Collision

The Anemone’s first port of call upon its official return to the modern world was the coastal port of Lochinver in Scotland. A quaint fishing town on the western edge of the Britain, Lochinver’s greatest call to fame was the magnificent Suilven Mountain that was visible from any corner of the small community. The mountain was an impressive protrusion of rock that soared majestically out of the earth like a blunt cone, crowned by snow and clouds. Although the largest port in western Scotland, Lochinver seemed small and isolated to newcomers. Houses scattered the shoreline behind stone embankments and though they stretched over a large area; one had the feeling that it still considered itself a fishing village. Surrounded by either the Suilven or the more distant Canisp Mountains, Lochinver seemed as trapped in time as Valinor.

The sun was moving vaguely through the morning fog when the Anemone eased gently towards the dock for mooring. Damp air filtered through their lungs, as they emerged from the innards of the vessel, eager to feel ground beneath their feet for the first time in many weeks. Despite the alien environment that the elves would be entering, Aaron got the impression that they too were glad for land. Aaron had always wanted to sail the waters of Northern Scotland, to visit the Orkney Islands and such but the opportunity had never presented itself. Thus it had been a special treat when the return to the world demanded they travel that particular route since Lochinver was remote enough to allow their arrival to go relatively unnoticed. After all, the people were accustomed to strangers stepping through the mist from the sea.

Gandalf hid himself beneath a long, grey cloak and did not look very different from the old mariners that were watching the wharf and the boats sailing into the harbor. He even paused to converse with them a little as Aaron went about securing the Anemone a permanent berth while it was in Lochinver. Travelling by sea to more populated areas was going to raise suspicion, particularly if the coast guard stopped them. By land, they could travel southward, remaining out of sight of the authorities for awhile longer. Legolas and Haldir were wearing some of his clothes and Aaron made a mental note to do some shopping because they did not fit them well and if any in their party needed to look inconspicuous, it was the elven warriors.

Fortunately, it was early in the morning and the only folk who were up and about on a day like this were fishermen preparing their catches for the markets. Those who had already come back from the early haul, were more interested in the business at hand rather than the arrival of strangers into their midst. The air was heavy with the salt of the sea and it was a comfort to the elves in particular who were wary of their new surroundings. Although Legolas had journeyed from Valinor previously, the modern world was still an alien place to him and he was just as unaccustomed to his surroundings as Haldir.

As the port began to come alive with the morning, they wandered into a local eatery catering to the needs of the working port. Most of the patrons within the place were fishermen, concluding the day with a hearty breakfast after their labors at sea. Despite Aaron’s best efforts to make Legolas and Haldir blend in, they were raising a few curious stares as they sat in the booth of the restaurant waiting to be served. Once again, Aaron told himself that they would have to get proper fitting garments as soon as possible since the elegant grace of elves did not lend well to his clothes. For the life of him he could not imagine what would make either of them blend in.

Perhaps long coats, he thought to himself.

"Now what I bring you all to start?" A rather round, red-cheeked woman with a curly dark hair and a bright smile asked after distributing menus across the table. Haldir and Legolas looked at the laminated piece of paper quizzically while Gandalf took a moment to study his own.

"Coffee," Eve answered smoothly, marveling at how easy it was to switch from speaking elvish to English once more. "Strong, black coffee, a stack of pancakes with honey, bacon and eggs with toast, I prefer my eggs scrambled but if I can’t have it that way sunny side up will do. Do you have cake?"

She said this in one breath.

"We have chocolate," the woman nodded, somewhat impressed by Eve’s appetite. "You’ve been starving yourself lass?"

"I’ve been dieting for awhile," Eve deadpanned. "One slice of chocolate cake please."

The woman scribbled down the order and looked at the others at the table. While most of what Eve had said was lost on Haldir and Legolas, Aaron and Gandalf were still staring at her.

"And what will you have?" The waitress turned her attention to Aaron.

"Hopefully not a coronary," Aaron retorted, disapproving at Eve’s choice of menu from a medical point of view.

"Very funny," Eve replied, not at all repentant at her indulgence.

Aaron proceeded to order for Haldir and Legolas, deciding the pancakes were good for Legolas since he had enjoyed them the last time he was in the world of men. Naturally the meal would be accompanied by a bottle of coke since the elf had missed the drink terribly when the supply Aaron brought to Valinor was finally exhausted. Haldir did not have much of a sweet tooth and so Aaron ordered him something that would not upset his palette too much since the food here was something he would have to get accustomed to. When the waitress finally went away and left them alone, the group finally found the leave to speak freely.

"I think they know we are strangers," Haldir remarked in elvish, noting how everyone was sneaking glances their way.

"We’ll just say you’re from California," Eve replied in the same, looking forward to her first cup of real coffee in six months.

"We should not linger here too long," Legolas warned as he tugged uncomfortably at the collar of the sweater he was wearing. "We bring undue attention to you by our presence."

"The authorities will come after me soon enough," Aaron shrugged, "I don’t think how different you look will make that happen any faster. Besides, I’m not sure where we’re even supposed to go from here. Gandalf?" Aaron stared at the Istar in answer to that question.

"My instincts say we go south," Gandalf replied, frowning at the sign that told him smoking was not allowed in the restaurant.

"It will be easier by car," Eve suggested. "We try to make it that by boat and we’re going to run into the coast guard sooner or later. Besides, my credit card is still valid; we can get a car and head down to London. Is that far enough south?" She looked at Gandalf.

"London it is I guess," Aaron declared before adding further, "well need a place to lay low while we’re there, I can look up an old friend. I’m sure she won’t mind letting us stay."

"She?" Eve’s brows shot up in question. "Who’s she?’

"Stuart’s ex wife," Aaron shrugged, realising he had just walked into a minefield and explained quickly before he found himself on the receiving end of a full vent of female suspicion. Gandalf was already smirking and Legolas, who knew him well enough, was trying to suppress a smile at Eve’s pointed inquiry.

"Stuart was married?" Eve declared in surprise, ignoring the juvenile sniggering between the males at the table. Eve was not all threatened by the fact that Aaron had other women in his life before her and her question had been one of curiosity more than anything else. Still, she could not deny that she was glad that the lady in question had turned out to be Stuart’s ex-wife. At the moment the situation was too complicated to tolerate the presence of an old girlfriend and not because she was jealous.

Well, not completely.

"Yeah for a while," he answered wondering how his best friend’s ex wife would take his sudden arrival at her doorstep with an entourage. "Stuart met her when we were backpacking across Europe after college. They got married in England but she came with him to New York after the wedding. They were together for five years before it finally ended. It was an amicable divorce so we all stayed pretty close, even after she went home to London."

"What is a divorce?" Legolas asked.

"It’s when two people who are married decided to dissolve the union," Gandalf explained helpfully. "It is an unpleasant affair resulting in a division of property and assets. They sometimes even fight over the children and pets."

"For someone who spent the last four hundred years as an insane derelict, you sure know a lot about it," Eve noted sarcastically.

"Well, when one was forced to rifle through rubbish for food, one sometimes had to pay attention to the tabloids and newspapers people throw away. Aside from making good bedding, it was something to read at night," Gandalf returned with a smile.

"How terrible," the former prince of Mirkwood frowned at the whole notion. "And you say it was done amicably?"

"Yeah sure," Aaron shrugged supposing to the elves, who chose their partners for all eternity, the concept of divorce was an alien one. Certainly, he could not even begin to imagine the longevity of Elrond and Celebrian’s marriage, not to mention Galadriel and Celeborn’s union. "Look. Tory and Stuart were very much in love but it takes more then that to make a marriage work sometimes. She was the feisty type and Stuart just didn’t like confrontations. In truth, they got along better when they weren’t married."

"Your race is strange," Legolas shrugged not understanding.

"No more stranger than they were a hundred thousand years ago," Haldir replied. "I can see the expediency of it however. Your lives are too short to waste on unhappy unions."

"Thank you, I think." Aaron returned, uncertain if that observation was astute or insulting. "Anyway, I trust Tory. If we need a place to stay, I don’t think she’ll turn us away."

"Aaron that’s a big ask," Eve said seriously. "There’s five of us and you could possibly be a fugitive."

"I’m not forgetting that," Aaron said seriously. "But I know Tory and she’ll help us if I ask."

"I have a feeling that before this is done," Gandalf replied staring at the television screen mounted on the wall and taking in his first sight of David Saeran on the news, "we will need all the help we can get."

***********

Bryan did not stop driving until he was well away from Cardiff and certain that no one was following them. It appeared their escape from Riverside had gone smoothly for the moment but under no circumstances did the MI6 agent feel the danger was over. He almost to the outskirts of Newport before he had dared to draw a breath, his mind racing at a million miles an hour as he tried to come to terms with what he had seen little more than a hour ago. He was a rational man who believed in things he could see. His mind was thrived on the comforting fact that very little surprised him. At this stage in his life, he had seen almost everything life could throw at him and was not only jaded but also rather comfortable with the whole idea of being in absolute control of his environment.

What he saw in that house shattered that safe illusion into a thousand fragments.

It was no trick of the dark or any kind of technology that he knew. When that creature, whatever it was, took off that mask, there had been nothing behind it. Yet the clothes molded to a body, the crimson eyes radiating malice were attached to a form, even if it was one he could not see. Yet he had put an entire magazine into it and the others with him and other than being momentarily surprised by the gunfire, it had left no permanent effect upon them. They should have been killed by that much ammunition but they were not. They had stood up and given chase. Yet, his mind would not allow him to think that they were invulnerable. The man and woman who laid dead on the floor of that house, were not killed by apparitions.

What took their life was real. It was no phantom even if it was capable of appearing as one.

And if they were real, they could be killed. They had to be because to believe otherwise was to be defeated before he even understood what he was facing. He thought of telling Caldwell what he had seen but understood quickly the reality of his situation. If he were to bring such a tale to his superior, they would have him in a straightjacket in a matter of hours. Agents as highly placed, as he did not go on off the deep end without very permanent consequences. He would be dealt with and quickly. Besides if he was to appeal to his superior for assistance in this situation, it would probably be best if Caldwell did not think he was insane.

Pulling up to a petrol station, Bryan sat in his car for a moment, trying to understand what had happened. Saeran had sent those things after someone but the kidnapping had gone badly. Obviously, they were forced to kill the target and his wife. However, he could not understand why they had hesitated with the child. He had witnessed what happened when he arrived on the scene. The killer had the child in his hands, he could have killed her there and then. There was no other alternative. The child had obviously seen everything. She could not be left alive to tell the authorities her tale. Yet he knew that the creatures had not intended to kill the girl. With every fiber of his being Bryan was certain of it.

So why was she still alive?

For the first time since they had started driving, Bryan turned his attention to the young girl who was still huddled in a fetal position on his passenger seat. She was shuddering with tears, her little pink nightgown smeared in blood. He looked at her and felt a surge of pity for the poor mite, having been witnessed to such a terrible scene as the murder of her parents. Bryan estimated she could not be any more than six years old and realized for the first time that he had not bothered to see if she was hurt or not. There had been a lot of gunfire when he went in to the house guns blazing and when they had ran for their lives.

"Are you alright?" He finally found voice enough to speak. Outside, it was still dark and the petrol station was mercifully deserted. Bryan had no desire of drawing undue attention if someone noticed a grown man in a car with a girl, all alone at this hour.

She did not answer but continued to shake with tears. He could hear her sniffles and felt each sob pierce his heart more than it should. For God’s sake, he had seen things that would leave some people with nightmares forever, this should not be affecting him. Bryan reached for her and his touch made her sit up but only out of fear. Within seconds, she was pressed up against the side of the door, staring at him with wide eyes brimming with moisture, strands of hair clinging to her tear stained cheeks.

"Are you alright?" Bryan asked again, starting to become gripped with the very real fear that she might have been injured in some way. "Are you hurt?"

She did not speak but continued to stare and sniffle in tandem. The fear in her expression so palpable, that Bryan realised that he was right, she had seen everything that had happened to her parents.

"I need to know if you’re hurt," Bryan tried again, this time using a gentler voice and a more trusting one he hoped. "I know that you’re frightened but I won’t hurt you, I promise. I just need to know if you are alright because if you’re not, I’ll have to get you to a doctor."

She stared at him for a few more seconds, trying to decide whether or not he could be trusted. The instincts for strangers which she had relied upon for so many years, that knew today would be a black day in her life, was somewhat vague on the subject of this man. For once, Fred had to use her mind instead of her heart to decide what she ought to do. He had saved her life. He had come into the house and saved her when the men with the red eyes would have surely harmed her. Even if she did not completely trust him, she could not ignore that.

"I’m not hurt," she said after a lengthy pause.

Bryan let out a sigh of relief and a smile in quick succession. "That’s good to know. My name is Bryan," he introduced himself. "What’s yours?"

Fred swallowed thickly, her heart still heavy with the realization that mummy and daddy were gone and that this man was now her protector for a time. She did not know whether she could really trust him but he was able to hide from the bad men and right now, he was all she had.

"Fred."

"Fred?" He cocked his brow in mild surprise. "That’s an unusual name for a little girl. Is it short for something?"

Fred nodded and answered after a moment’s pause, "Frederica."

"I think I like Fred better," he replied trying not to frighten her. He could only imagine what fresh demons were infusing themselves into her psyche after what she had witnessed tonight. He did not have much contact with children and wished that were otherwise at this moment because he had no idea how to relate to a six-year-old child suffering the traumas that she had. However, he did know that to send her on her way just so he could absolve himself of the responsibility was a mistake. Until he learnt why her parents were killed and why David Saeran had ordered it, she was not safe anywhere, even with him.

"Fred," he let out a heavy sigh deciding that the best way to proceed at this moment was to simply tell her the truth. "I don’t know who those men were in your house but I’m sure that they won’t stop looking for you. They know you saw what they did to your mum and dad so they’ll be after you for certain. I think it is best that you stay with me until we figure things out. Is that alright with you?"

"They didn’t want mummy and daddy," Fred said bitterly, fresh tears breaking through her efforts not to cry," they wanted me. They only wanted me!"

"You?" Bryan said in disbelief, "no I’m sure that’s not right. They were after your dad."dsd

"You don’t know anything!" She spat angrily. "They didn’t want daddy! They wanted me! They’ve always wanted me!"

It was impossible, Bryan told himself as she made that claim. Bryan knew what he had heard. Saeran had demanded the kidnapping of a man. Bring him to me alive, he had said. Bring him. No doubt this child was developing the inevitable feelings of guilt that came with being left alive that was making her believe she was the intended victim of those creatures. Bryan saw no reason to aggravate her by contradicting her statement; at least until a little more time had passed. It had been a traumatic night for her and he did not want to exacerbate her mental state any further until he knew what was to be done.

"Maybe they did," he said in a conciliatory tone. "But right now, I think we need to get you somewhere safe for the night."

"I want to go home," Fred whimpered.

"I know," she said meeting his gaze with surprising understanding. "They’ll be watching, the men with the red eyes."

"You saw them?" He exclaimed. Until now, he had not been sure that she had seen what he had. However, if she had witnessed the same then it was proof that he had not completely lost his mind.

Bryan’s stomach hollowed at the memory of seeing those terrible eyes and wished he knew what they were and more importantly, what they wanted with this girl and her family. "So did I," he confessed. "Fred, until we know what they are, you can’t go home.""He sent them," Fred muttered looking away at the night sky beyond the glass of the window.That caught Bryan’s interest."He?" Bryan stared at her. "Who’s he?"
"I don’t know," Fred shook her head, her lips curling in a pout as she felt herself ready for a fresh bout of tears. She thought of mummy in the garden today and daddy watching cartoons and knew that she would never know that happiness again. Her world had shrunk into this car and to this stranger, whom she was forced to rely upon. She didn’t know him and yet she had no choice but to trust him. "He watches. He always watches.""Have you seen him watching?" Bryan looked at her, feeling a cold shudder running up his spine as sharp as when he heard Saeran’s henchman speak for the first time."Yes," she nodded, turning her blue eyes at him. "I see him in my dreams."

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

In the heart of the Henan Province in China, Xiang Li awoke from an odd dream.He rose from his bed, shaking a little at the uneasiness that had followed him from his slumber into the waking world, crowding his thoughts with anxieties he could not name. Stepping into the small cubicle that acted as his bathroom, the forty year old man proceeded to wash his face with water, hoping that the cold would shake him out of this malaise that plagued his mornings for so many weeks. The icy cold water served the purpose of bringing clarity to his mind but it did not ease the burden his mind to any extent. He let out a heavy sigh as he remained hunched over the white porcelain basin, droplets of water running down his skin before splattering against the ceramic as he lingered for a moment, hoping that this morning would be different from all the others. That this time, the strange sensation of not being quite in control of himself would fade.

It was not.

And when that  brief period had ended with no significant change, he would straighten up and look at himself in the mirror before concluding that he was fine and whatever he had been feeling a moment ago, was pure foolishness. In a shorter time then that, he would forget completely that anything had ever disturbed him, attributing the mood to a slight case of the early morning blues. A man in his position could not afford to waste time and as he embarked upon the morning rituals in readiness for the day ahead, the discomfort he had felt when he awoke was so far away that he gave it no further thought. His uniform was pressed and waiting for him inside the cupboard of his quarters in the military facility of Luoning.

A Colonel of the 401st Brigade could not afford to be late for duty.

Being stationed at the Luoning facility was one of the most prestigious honors for a military officer in the People’s Army. Luoning was the one of two nuclear silos established in Central China in the early 1980s containing four DF-5 ICBMs that were maintained in ready to fire status at all times. Although the threat of these weapons being deployed in a military strike was remote these days, it was still an important assignment that would embellish the record of any career military officer. Xiang took pride in being one of the many guardians of the Republic’s greatest weapons. He had been stationed at Luoning for almost ten years and had earned a position of trust and a reputation that would enhance his standing when he chose to move his ambitions to a political arena.

Once he was dressed, Xiang studied himself in the mirror and was pleased to note that he was the impeccable model of a colonel in the People’s Army. He was almost ready to leave his quarters to begin the day when he felt a burning sensation on his hand. Frowning in annoyance, he raised his right hand and stared at the gold band around his finger. His mistress had presented it to him during his last visit to Shanghai and though it appeared exquisitely made with ornate designs he did not recognize as being a language, it seemed to burn at times, as if he was allergic to the metal. However, the occasions were rare and he liked the look of it on his finger and was reluctant to remove it. Lately, he had even begun to dream about the accursed thing.

He dreamed he could hear it speak.

***********

Although Gandalf did not say so, Aaron sensed that time was against them by the Istar’s desire to begin the next leg of their journey as quickly as possible. As discussed, Eve bought an affordable yet reliable car from a local dealership so that they could leave Lochinver that day itself. The Anemone was berthed discreetly at the wharf and would be safe until they were ready to return to claim her. Since there was no record of his attachment to the vessel, Aaron was certain that it would remain safe during their time in the modern world. The people of Lochinver appeared to be trustworthy and their maritime history ensured that when it came to a man’s boat, it was almost sovereign territory.

Which was just as well because Haldir and Legolas were drawing attention wherever they appeared in public, even it was for a matter of a few hours. Despite concealing their ears beneath their long blond hair, it was apparent to just about everyone that they did not fit in. Whether or not it was their strange behavior or their natural luminescence, it was clear that they were strangers and strangers in small towns tended to draw attention, which was something the company did not need at this time. Fortunately, the city was better able to blanket them in anonymity because urbanites were too focused on themselves to be concerned with the rest of the world. Living all his life in New York had taught Aaron that much about people, without his needing to drawn on his considerable experience as a psychiatrist.

"I thought you said your clothes would help us blend in," Legolas declared as they stepped out of a local department store prior to their departure from Lochinver. Aaron had decided that it was impossible for either of the elves to look natural in any of his clothes so the best thing he could think of was to buy two long coats instead. It would mask how strange they appeared in modern clothing and look completely acceptable since the weather was somewhat cold.

"For some strange reason, it just looks like you’re not a sweater and jeans kind of guy," Aaron remarked as they stepped onto the sidewalk and began walking back to the car that Eve was presently servicing at the near by petrol station. "Trust me, this is better for you Legolas," Aaron said as he saw Legolas buttoned himself into the long, wool coat. Of course he punctuated this statement by placing a bright orange tourist cap upon the brow of the former prince of Mirkwood.

Haldir sniggered immediately at how unbecoming Legolas looked before Aaron silenced him with an equally satisfied smirk, "don’t laugh, I’ve got one for you too."

"I am not wearing this," Haldir looked at the orange cap with undisguised dislike as Legolas started to laugh. "I do not see the reason for having to appear so unseemly or having to wear your clothes. Surely these people must be familiar with strangers who dressed unlike themselves? After all, they must have many visitors to these shores."

"They do," Aaron returned distracted as he tried not to laugh at the sight of Legolas fitting his cap over his ears. Keeping a straight face when the elf was trying to look dignified in the eyesore of a cap was difficult enough without having to deal with Haldir’s version of an elven snit. "However, in your own clothes, they’ll either think you’re crazy or from the twelfth century and since we’re trying to stay inconspicuous, I prefer they do neither."

"If I can put this ludicrous thing on, so can you," Legolas barked at him in annoyance. "Or are you not brave enough to rise to the occasion?"

"My courage will match yours any day in any age," Haldir returned, not willing to be outdone.

"Well its nice to know that despite being a hundred thousand years old each, you two can still get into a pissing contest."

Both looked at him in question despite Aaron’s decision not to elaborate on that comment. Thankfully, they arrived at the petrol station where a diligent petrol station attendant was presently treating the old Ford Galaxy that Eve had purchased to a full tank of gas and a change of oil. Gandalf was already waiting in the backseat of the car while Eve was at the convenience store buying supplies for their trip. The sun was climbing well past noon and the station was filled with a dozen other cars, to which the elves looked on in interest. Haldir for most part tried not to look impressed and Aaron had a sense that this was an elf that liked above all else to be perceived as the height on elven calm, even among his own people.

Still despite his efforts, as so astutely concluded by Aaron, Haldir was nevertheless overwhelmed by the world of men for even Legolas’ stories about the realm in Valinor did not do it justice. It seemed to him that men had become lost in their technology and seeing the world that had given Eve and Aaron life, explained a great deal about their manner. He also understood why they had taken so well to Valinor. The serenity and peace of the Undying Lands had to be a welcome change from the chaos of this world.

"Does the air always smell so fell?" Haldir asked as he and Legolas joined Gandalf in the car. Neither elf was happy to be confined to the metal carriage. Haldir, because it seemed like such a foreign way to travel and Legolas because he remembered what an ordeal it was the last time he had been in such a vehicle. Fortunately, on this occasion, Eve was driving.

"Unfortunately yes," Gandalf remarked. "Men have little difficulty in contaminating the air with every imaginable pollutant. If they do not notice it then it concerns them little. It is one of the occasions when they would do well with an elf’s sense of smell. Perhaps if they knew what they were pouring into the sky, they would not be so quick to foul it."

"You know I am in the car," Aaron said sarcastically.

"No you haven’t," Aaron shrugged unable to deny that his race created an environmental hazard wherever they settled. "People are starting to grow up about the environment, but I think it’s too little, too late."

"There is always hope," Legolas remarked, not one to see the worst in any situation, even it appeared that way.

Haldir gazed out the window of the car and saw people going about their business, with cars racing down the motorway at speeds that put horses to shame. As they drove past, they spewed out clouds of noxious folk and it appeared the construction of roads and homes were made at convenience, with little consideration about the land that was being ravaged. It distressed him to think that if matters were such in community as small as this, what would it be like in a large urban centre.

Discussions about the environment were shunted aside when Eve returned to the car after thanking the petrol attendant whom had finished his ministrations on the engine.

"Here you go," Eve handed a plastic bag to Aaron who immediately went rifling through its contents.

"If we ever get back to Valinor, I want to be there when you explain to Elrond how you come you gained twenty pounds," he retorted in disapproval as he saw the snacks she had purchased. As a medical doctor, he could not help but balk at the sugar content before him.

"Hey," she looked at him sharply, "I’ve been living on lembas for the last year. Excuse me if I need a serious chocolate fix."

"And I thought Legolas was bad with Coke," Aaron shook his head in resignation. "I don’t know why you need this much chocolate, its not as if you’ve been celibate," he muttered under his breath

"Mind your own business," Eve looked over her shoulder. "You may be an immortal, but you’re still a nosey old man."

"That goes without saying," Legolas grinned. "In the days of old, Gandalf was said to be more reliable than a palantir."

"One cannot battle the forces of evil without being in the know of things," the Maia replied without a hint of repentance.

"I’m sure," Eve retorted with scepticism before returning to the business at hand. "Okay, everybody buckle up, we’re going. Our next rest break is in an hour so if you haven’t gone, you’re going to have to hold it."

"Just drive the car Eve," Aaron threw her a look because he had no intention of explaining to either Legolas and Haldir what a rest break was until it was absolutely necessary.

Legolas’s first instinct when the engine roared to life was to grab onto something. In this case, the headrest of Aaron’s seat. Although Haldir appeared composed, it became quite clear that his first experience with in an automobile was cause for some apprehension. While he seemed outwardly calm, the evidence of his anxiety was noticeable to all since he appeared decidedly paler than usual, quite a feat considering elves did not tan and by the fact that the knuckle’s digging into the leather of the backseat were white with tension. Gandalf on the other hand, had pulled the brim of his tweed driving cap over his face with the intention of spending the journey southward, taking a nap.

"You guys going to be okay?" Aaron asked with concern as he noted the anxious expressions on Legolas and Haldir’s faces respectively.

"We have survived far worse than this," Haldir remarked coolly, even though his pallor indicate anything but the calm he was attempting to project.

"Yeah but that was just Middle Earth, this is the English motorway," Aaron declared.

"I feel safe as long as Eve is driving," Legolas responded with false bravado and received a scathing glare from Aaron at the slight to his driving skills.

"Will you quit fussing over them," Eve retorted impatient to get underway. "They’re fine."

With that she pulled the car onto the road and immediately caused a commotion of blaring horns and screeching wheels before slamming her foot on the brakes and bringing them to an abrupt halt that tossed them back and forth in the car violently. Other cars had screeched to a sudden halt in front of the Ford and even Gandalf had been jarred out of his repose by the sudden braking. The elves appeared green instead of white and Aaron rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily before looking remarking at Eve.

"Drive on the other side of the road, Eve."

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

It was almost dawn when Bryan returned home to his flat in Hammersmith. So far, he had resisted the urge to turn on the radio while he had been driving because the report of two people being murdered in cold blood being breezily reported by overly an perky newsreader was probably more than Fred could tolerate at this time. The young girl had been a silent passenger for most of the journey, having cried herself to sleep after they had left Newport. Bryan had thought he was put to the test when he was trained to resist torture but all that seemed inconsequential when faced with a child's pitiful tears, even if they were shed silently in an effort to keep him from hearing.

She was a brave little thing, Bryan thought as she faced away from him and tried to hide the intense sorrow she must have surely felt for the loss of both parents in a single night. He wished he had known what to say to her, to ease the burden of her terrible loss but the truth was, Bryan's experience with children was next to nothing. The only reason he had managed to coax her into speaking at all because he believed the best way to deal with her for the lack of any real experience was to be as honest as possible. Dealing with children was something his brother, the archaeologist, was better at, probably because Frank actually had children. If Frank lived in England, Bryan would have considered taking Fred to him but since his brother and his family was roaming about Africa on one dig or another, it was more or less a moot point.

She was still asleep when they arrived at his apartment and he was grateful that it was still relatively early because no one saw him enter the premises with the young girl. Considering that she was still wearing her blood splattered nightgown, it would have raised all sorts of questions if he had been noticed by his neighbours and at the moment, this child's life depended on no one having the least bit suspicion that she was in his company. Bryan carried her into the confines of his flat and went immediately to the guest room that had until now been the storage space for anything he did not want to trip over in the other parts of the flat. A moment of reflection as to whether or not it was entirely the safest place to put a six year old soon had him heading for his own bedroom. She hardly stirred when he put her on the soft mattress and pulled the covers over her small frame.

Closing the door behind him, Bryan made his way to the kitchen, removing his gun from his holster and placing it on the table before reaching into a combat and extracting a half filled bottle of scotch. Pouring himself a glass, Bryan took his drink to the armchair and lowered himself into it, nursing it in his palm as he tried to decide what he would do next. Even the sip of the smooth spirit in his throat did not assuage the worried thoughts running through his head or make what he had seen any less believable.

He knew what he had seen and Fred's words to him in the car had proved he was not insane, unless it was the kind of insanity that was contagious. She had seen it too and what was more, she seemed to have a better idea of what they were facing then he did, although she was in no position to explain it to him with any clarity. He kept thinking of David Saeran, of the chase that had taken up the better part of two years of his life, the chase that had now taken this very unexpected turn. For the first time in his life, Bryan was not in control of his situation and had no idea what to do.

He could not say he liked it very much.

Making certain that the door to his bedroom was closed; Bryan turned on the television set and searched the channels until he found an early morning news report. Turning the volume down low, the MI6 agent waited patiently as Susan Bookbinder began reading the morning news. The initial reports were of world events and the political brush fires around the globe that seemed to be escalating these days, to which Bryan paid little attention because the media seldom had any real idea of what was actually going on. It was only when the report of a double homicide in Cardiff was made that he sat up and pay attention.

The street that only a few hours ago had been the scene of so much bloodshed and gunfire was now overrun with police and ambulances. Obviously the footage was taken immediately after the discovery of the bodies and long after Bryan and Fred had made good their escape. Bodies were being wheeled out of the home that Fred had lived all her life, covered in blood soak sheets with forensics people trying to flee the prying eyes of the media. Neighbors were out in force; some still in their robes, watching the unfolding drama without the slightest inkling of what had caused this terrible tragedy.

Susan Bookbinder was now announcing the authorities deepening concerns regarding the fate of the youngest member of the Bailey household, little Frederica Bailey whose body was not counted among the dead. The execution style murder of her parents indicated underworld links but the disappearance of the child led to a more sinister conclusion that she had been the victim of child molester turned murderer. Bryan listened to the possible theories and flinched when he was treated to a picture of the little girl from happier times. She was wearing what appeared to be a fairy costume; complete with wings, tiara and a bright, cheery smile that made her appear almost a completely different person from the sleeping waif in the blood stained clothes.

Bryan watched the entire telecast even though after the story about the Bailey’s murder, he had ceased to pay attention to anything else and was merely reflecting amidst the background noise of Susan Bookbinder’s voice. He knew he was in way over his head but had no idea how to let this cup pass now that it had rested solely before him. He was an MI6 agent accustomed to dealing with threats he could see, enemies that threatened queen and country, foreign powers or a right wing fanatics who could not express their opinion with any other means but violence. He did not know what he was up against and seeing a preview of it in the crimson eyes of the formless things he had fought tonight, told him that he was outmatched and completely out of his league. Still, he had told Fred that he would protect her and that much Bryan was determined to honor. He did not know why but every fiber of his being would not allow anything to harm the child.

So that left him with the only one recourse and it was an alternative he would have preferred not to take. Unfortunately, he had no choice. It was this way or not at all.

Reaching into the folds of his dark coat, Bryan produced his cell phone and pressed the speed dial code for the one person he had no wish to contact. The connection was made almost immediately, the ringing lasting no more than a few seconds. Outside, the sun had started to appear over the skyline of the city and morning would soon be upon him. He sucked in his breath and hope he would have a career by the time he hung up the call. Hopefully, the issue of David Saeran and the murder he had ordered would take precedence over his illegal activities.

"Caldwell," the familiar taut voice of his supervisor said firmly. There was no sound of grogginess in his voice or any indication that he had been rudely awakened. Knowing the old boy, Bryan suspected he was already up with the crows getting ready for the day.

"Sir, its Bryan," he announced himself rather contritely.

"Bryan, do you know what time it is?" Caldwell asked automatically.

"I know Sir," Bryan nodded.

"Aren’t you supposed to be on leave?" the man inquired inevitably.

"I was but something has come up," Bryan offered reluctantly.

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Caldwell responded, "that something had better not be David Saeran."

"I’m afraid it is," Bryan replied and then quickly added more before Caldwell could embark upon a tirade at his insubordination and how much trouble he was in. "But Sir, I have proof that Saeran ordered a killing tonight."

"What?" Caldwell’ inevitable exclamation followed. "What do you mean?"

"I overheard him ordering his men to kidnap someone in Cardiff, with further orders to kill all witnesses," Bryan explained, guessing before hand what Caldwell’s next question would be.

"How did you overhear this?"

Bryan explained and winced when he heard Caldwell’s enraged response over the cell phone. The MI6 agent held the cell phone away from his ear as Caldwell vented the full measure of his outrage at Bryan’s insubordination, not to mention, his disregard of orders.

"You placed an illegal wire tap on one of the most powerful men in this country?" Caldwell declared. "What were you thinking? Aside from it being a complete invasion of privacy, you’ve misappropriated Firm equipment and illegally operated on British soil! Have you lost your mind?"

"But I was right!" Bryan insisted and continued to explain how he had driven to Cardiff and intercepted the killers before they could hurt Fred. Of course he omitted the fact that Saeran’s agents were wraithlike creatures with crimson points for eyes that could not be killed. Bryan did not think Caldwell was ready for that much disclosure.

"Where is the girl now?" Caldwell asked once Bryan had concluded his tale.

"She’s with me," Bryan volunteered. "Poor thing has a bad time of it Sir. She saw everything."

"Well if the police are treating it as a kidnapping, we’ll let them continue to do so until we can produce more proof that an illegal surveillance tap of Saeran’s complicity," Caldwell said tersely, clearly unhappy at the situation, Bryan’s insubordination not withstanding.

"What about the girl, Sir?" Bryan asked. "She saw everything. They will be after her."

Caldwell did not speak for a moment as he considered the matter. Bryan sincerely hoped that Caldwell would not tell him to release her into the authority of some stranger or worse yet, Scotland Yard. Bryan did not know when his responsibility for this child had become such priority but he knew that he was unwilling to relinquish it after making the promise he would protect her. For reasons, he could not even begin to explain, the oath he made to her had value and he would not break it for anything.

"Stay put for the moment," Caldwell broke his silence after long last. "Until we figure this out, don’t do anything else. I will call when I have an answer for you."

"Alright," Bryan answered, feeling a swell of relief coursing through his being at the knowledge that he was given official sanction to remain Fred’s protector for the time being. "I’ll wait for your call and Sir, thank you."

"Don’t thank me yet," the old man returned sharply. "If the Tower of London was still doing business, I’d have you under the block in a second. Don’t ever pull this rubbish again. When I give you an order, I expect it to be obeyed. You work for her majesty’s government, not your own personal agendas."

"Yes Sir," Bryan frowned, properly admonished.

With that Caldwell terminated the call and Bryan looked at the phone in his hand before deciding he needed another drink.

Damn, he hated waiting.

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

Caldwell drew in a deep breath, wondering why he was at all surprised by Bryan Miller’s call.

A better man in the service could not be found in Caldwell’s opinion but Bryan had a streak of recklessness in him that could cause a great deal of grief if left unchecked, like now. He had honestly believed his warnings to the younger man would be heeded. After all, Bryan was ex Royal Marines and knew how to obey orders even if it went against the grain of every instinct in him. However, not even Caldwell had suspected the extent of his tenaciousness when it came to the business of Malcolm Industries and in particular, the Black Serpent organization. From the moment Bryan had been led down that dark path, he had been trapped by the mystery of it and bound to follow the investigation no matter where it led. Even the destruction of the Malcolm Building had not changed his belief that somehow the conglomerate was linked to Black Serpent.

Caldwell had tried to deter him in every way possible but Bryan was obdurate about discovering the truth and his stubbornness had led both himself and Caldwell on a collision course that neither could escape. Whatever happened now, was out of Caldwell’s hands. He had done everything to avoid coming to this situation that he now found him as firmly entrenched as Bryan Miller. Reaching for the phone on the desk in his private study, Caldwell dialed a number that was committed to memory. He dared not risk having it on his speed dial or written amongst any of his personal numbers.

Three rings echoed through the room in electronic tones before the call was answered and Caldwell stiffened involuntarily when he heard the voice speak.

"Isn’t this rather early for you Richard?" David Saeran’s voice asked smoothly through the intercom on Caldwell’s desk.

"I have news," Caldwell said abruptly, having no wish for this call to continue any longer than necessary.

There was a slight pause before Saeran spoke, "tell me."

"I am afraid I was wrong about Bryan," the MI6 supervisor responded, swallowing thickly. "He didn’t drop the investigation as I ordered. In fact he has had you under surveillance for the past week."

Another notable pause was heard and Caldwell felt a cold chill running down his spine as he awaited Saeran’s reply.

"I gather it was he who interfered with my business in Cardiff?" Saeran asked coldly.

"Yes, it was," Caldwell answered, hating to be the bearer of that particular bit of news. "He saw everything and he has the girl."

"John Malcolm had a great deal of confidence in you Caldwell," Saeran replied automatically, almost as if he had not heard Caldwell’s last statement. "He bought and paid for your services for almost twenty years and it has been a lucrative arrangement until now. You kept British intelligence away from Malcolm Industries and Black Serpent and he gave you all the political and financial support you needed. Bryan Miller comes under that arrangement and while Malcolm isn’t here to stress his disappointment, I won’t stand on ceremony. Frankly, I find your kind difficult to control and to unreliable when the situation warrants it. My people were handling this matter quite efficiently until you failed to keep up your end of our arrangement. Just because Malcolm is dead does not mean I am any less forgiving when you fail me, so unless you give me a very compelling reason I will be forced to terminate your services. You may take that as literally as you wish because I certainly will."

Caldwell knew the threat was not an idle one and if he wanted to see the next sunrise he had better give Saeran exactly what he demanded; Bryan Miller.

With no other way out of the cage he had placed himself twenty years ago, Richard Caldwell exhaled deeply and gave Saeran the answer he needed to save himself, though he was certain he was already damned.

"I know where Bryan is."

Part Four
Old Girlfriends

When Bryan was still with the Royal Marines, he had been taught to sleep with one eye open.

This was of particular advantage whilst one was in the midst of enemy territory, where it was necessary to take a few hours rest during missions. It was imperative that all soldiers embarking on such hazardous duty knew how to remain in a state of semi-alertness even while in slumber to avoid being captured unawares. This part of Bryan's training in the SAS had followed him into his career at MI6 and there were more occasions than he could count when this ability had saved his life. It was just as well anyway, Bryan thought because when he slept deeply, he was plagued by uneasy dreams and Bryan was person who could tolerate helplessness even when it came to his own psyche.

The dreams were not unpleasant, just unsettling. Most of the time he could not remember them and when he did, it was filled with the sensation that he had to strive to succeed, as if he had something to prove. It was a characteristic of his personality that followed him most of his life, in school, in university and ultimately his career. The desire to complete everything he started had taken precedence over every other aspects of his life and had a good deal to do with why he was approaching his forties and had never possessed anything closely resembling a steady relationship.

Bryan had no regrets however. There had been women in his life but he never felt obliged to stay any longer than necessary and they certainly could not compete with his goals when he was driven to a purpose. He had resigned himself to the fact that he would most likely be killed in the service of her majesty's government and that suited him well enough. He had been present at too many funerals and seen too many wives weeping over husbands lost in the service of their country to stomach wishing the same fate upon someone he really cared about when the inevitable came to pass. When he died, the only one who would truly miss him was his brother, Frank. Bryan hardly knew his nephew and niece and his sister-in-law Miranda, considered him family but still thought he was a bastard.

It was strange how quickly women formed that opinion about him.

Bryan was in a light sleep, having drifted there shortly after his call to Caldwell and following his second glass of scotch. It had been a little after dawn when he had finally succumbed to the exhaustion of being awake for almost 48 hours straight. In that time, he had kept up the surveillance of Saeran's estate, he had raced frantically to Cardiff, rescued Fred from Saeran's 'men', he did not know what else to call them at this point and before finally returning here to his home in London. Fortunately, his training refused to let him completely lose himself in slumber and when he heard soft footsteps approaching the sofa where he lay, Bryan's sleeping senses were already climbing out of their repose to full alertness.

He blinked his eyes open just as she reached him and Bryan was treated to the sight of the little girl looking down at him with an expression of deep worry across her face. Her fear immediately put Bryan on guard and he sat up automatically on his makeshift bed, his eyes searching for his gun, which he had placed on the floor next to the sofa when he had taken his rest.

"What is it?" He asked.

Fred swallowed the lump in her throat and glanced out the nearest window of the four storey flat before answering him. "They're coming."

"What do you mean they're coming?" Bryan stared at her in disbelief.

"They're coming," she looked at him with a steady gaze. "I know it."

"Fred," Bryan rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and focussed on her again with a little more clarity. "Even if they are searching for you, nobody knows you're here."

All this sounded perfectly reasonable when Bryan explained it to her but Fred stared at him appearing wholly unconvinced. If anything, his explanation only served to fire her own stubbornness that she was right and while Bryan did not know it yet, his own determination paled in comparison to the iron will within this child when her mind was set.

"They're coming," she insisted and grabbed his hand, the one not holding the gun and began tugging him off the bed.

Bryan allowed himself to be led though he was certain that her belief of danger was generated by a nightmare or something similar because there was no way anyone could know she was here. She was probably too young for women's intuition but decided that he would indulge her now that he was awake. Following her to the window with scepticism, Bryan wondered how in the world he had come to be in this position where a six year old was suddenly calling the shots in his life. Usually gruff when he was awakened out of a much-needed sleep, the MI6 agent wondered why this was not included in the recruitment brochures. It would certainly shoot the holes in the misconception that MI6 agents lived like James Bond even if his choice of gun was a Walther PPK.

For someone who had not been in his flat for more than a few hours, Fred seemed to know where she was going and led him to the window on the far side of the living room, the one that overlooked the parking area for visitors. Bryan was about to repeat another condescending statement that she had dreamed this illusion of terror when suddenly, all his doubts and his scepticism was washed away by the sight of two black cars pulling to the side of the kerb. It may have been dark and his glimpse of them brief, but there was no mistaking the cars that had been parked outside the Bailey when Fred's parents had been murdered.

The men that emerged from the vehicle were not the creatures he had seen last night. However, it was little comfort to him because he knew without doubt that these were Saeran’s men. They were clad in long dark coats whose only purpose could be to hide their guns and with sunglasses that would make them appear nondescript to the casual bystander. Their first action upon climbing out of their cars was to raise their gaze toward his building. The leader of them, a big Polynesian who appeared as if he might have stepped out of a wrestling arena, barked orders Bryan was unable to here. Still despite the inaudible words, Bryan recognized the instinctive pat the men made over certain parts of their person, to be exact over their coats, an indication that they were armed and ready.

Two cars, Bryan thought in the millisecond that it took for him to assess his situation. Two cars that carried seven armed men, who were striding briskly towards the walkway that led to the main foyer of his building. Thoughts on how they found him would wait as he hurried away from the window and went to retrieve his gun and his cell phone in good order. They had minutes if that to get out of here before those men arrived. Bryan intended that neither he or Fred would be here when that happened.

"I hate it when you’re right," Bryan grumbled offhandedly as she watched him hurry across the living room after fetching his gun, to a sideboard with many drawers. Bryan reached for his keys on top of it and unlocked the top drawer. He kept this drawer locked for the reason in order not to frighten the housekeeper that cleaned his flat thrice a week. Besides, he was not comfortable about leaving bullets scattered about, not when most of his neighbors had no idea what he did for a living. Most of them thought he was an IT salesman.

"We have to go now," Fred declared insistently, as her gaze shifted intermittently between him and the window.

"Trust me, that’s foremost in my mind as well," Bryan retorted, pulling the drawer open and removing the two boxes of ammunition inside it. "But we’re not going to get very far if I don’t do this first."

"If they find us, we won’t go anywhere at all!" Fred reminded and drew a look from Bryan, who was now crossing the floor again, this time his destination appeared to be a pot plant whose state of health was borderline at best.

"You’re too young to learn how to nag," Bryan retorted as he took hold of the stem of the plant and lifted it out of its pot, trailing clumps of dirt as he tossed it aside.

"What are you doing?" She asked, too young to be able to take offense at his earlier statement.

Bryan reached into the pot and produced a small metal box that looked like it might have been a biscuit tin of some description. It was no bigger than a breadbox and its hiding place had left it covered in dirt. However, this did not seem to bother Brian at all who upon acquiring this odd item, grabbed his coat and Fred in quick succession before running out of the apartment. He did not bother locking it behind because he was certain his impending visitors would not be stopped by a locked door if they were intent on finding them both. Emerging into the corridor outside his flat, he glanced briefly at the lift and saw the indicator lights of the floors glowing progressively towards their level.

"Its going to be the stairs then," he replied as they hurried to the fire stairs, while he loaded his gun with a fresh magazine of bullets.

"What if they’re there too?" Fred asked anxiously, her face filled with obvious fear.

"We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it," Bryan said shortly as he pulled open the door to the fire stairs which in deference to the rest of the building was unpainted and displayed exposed concrete.

Unfortunately, that bridge came sooner than Bryan would like because this time Saeran’s men were not taking any chances in losing their prey. He could hear footsteps echoing from lower down the stairs and knew that the enemy was covering all their possible avenues of escape. Bryan took hold of Fred’s hand and quickly raced up the stairs towards the roof. He placed a finger on his lip to signal quiet as there was no reason to let the men pursuing them know their ultimate destination even if their footsteps could be heard during their ascent. She nodded quickly, coming to the conclusion that this man whom she could not be entirely certain about yes was determined to protect her and appeared quite capable of it as well.

As soon as the sound of their running feet filtered to the lower levels of the staircase, Bryan heard voices crying out excitedly that he and Fred were discovered. He paid little attention to this and picked up Fred so that they could make better progress up the staircase. Sensibly Fred liberated the metal box from him in a wordless agreement so that he could carry her better as he ran up the stairs to the roof exit which was now in sight. Bryan was not all burdened with the extra weight. In the SAS, there had been times when he had been dropped into places where he was required to carry his own weight in gear. He made it to the top of the stairs easily and was grateful when he found it unlocked. Their pursuers’ footsteps were even louder than before and their pace definitely faster now that they knew what Bryan was up to.

Stepping onto the roof of the building. Bryan looked around for something to barricade the fire exit. The roof level of the building had been the venue for one of his neighbors horticultural activities, complete with mini greenhouse When he spotted a shovel lying outside the plastic sheeting that made up the frames of Mr. Stephens project, Bryan immediately braced it against the door. It was not much of a deterrent but valuable seconds in instances like this was all that bridged the difference between life and death.

"Where are we going to go?" Fred looked to him in question, her eyes having scoured the roof and discovering to her dismay that there really was nowhere else to go once the bad men reached the door.

Bryan hurried to the nearest edge and let his eyes sweep over the roofs of the adjoining buildings. It was a quite a long drop to the ground but they were not so high that the wind was lashing at them with any strength. If anything, the most this lofty height could manage was a slight breeze. In the street below, he could see in the street below and knew that reaching his car would be difficult. Two men were guarding it and he was certain that he heard two voices coming up the stairs behind them. That left three who were probably discovering at this moment that there was no one at his apartment. If they could reach his car, then there was chance of escape. All it required was being able to get to it from this roof.

He measured distances they would need to traverse swiftly in his head and came to a decision wordlessly. Fred was staring at the door, waiting for the inevitable sound of men trying to break through. He went to her and picked her up once more, wondering if he should tell her. Probably not, he decided. Best to do it when there was minimum chance of her panicking. If he was wrong, they would be too dead too worry about it in any case.

"Where are we going?" She asked as he neared the edge of the building and looked across at the next.

The gap between them was eight to ten feet. A good distance but not impossible. Bryan retreated in his steps as he heard the first pounding against the roof door. Taking a deep breath he began a short sprint towards the building’s edge. Fred’s eyes widened as she realized what he intended to do and without even needing to hear him say it, wrapped her arms even tighter around his neck. The box was crushed between the two of them as he jumped and there was a rush of sound and the feeling of being airborne for a few seconds that almost caused the girl to squeal, but she did not. Instead, she buried her face deeper into his chest so that she did not have to look.

Bryan hit the other side of the gap and rolled across the floor. When he knew he was going to fall, folded his arms around the bundle in his arms and tried to protect her as best as he could. They rolled together for a few feet, before coming to a halt. There was no time to pause or even inquire if she was alright because if he could cross that distance with a child in his arms, their pursuers could do the same and with far less effort. Instead he secured his hold of her and ran to the door leading into the building. It was locked but that was not much of a deterrent to Bryan who promptly kicked it open, splintering wood and scrapping metal in a loud crack.

It was only when they were hidden temporarily inside the building, it Bryan let her down so that he could see her state.

"Are you alright?" He asked her concerned, noting that she was shaking a little.

"Yes," she nodded fearfully, her expression and the pout of her lips indicating she was trying hard not to cry. "I’m okay. I didn’t drop the box." She added, showing him her diligence at being able to keep it on her person after their death-defying stunt.

"That’s a brave girl," he winked at her in pride and ruffled her hair affectionately before taking her hand again.

They made their way swiftly down the fire stairs of this new building and did not hear any one in pursuit, which did little to allay Bryan’s fears because at least when they were following, he knew where they were. The silence made him wonder if they were not thinking up alternative ways to cut off his and Fred’s escape route. Deciding to take the fire exit out of the building instead of making it out through the main doors, their route to escape came after a few minutes. Bryan told Fred to remain behind him as he opened the door quietly and emerged first. The setting of the door made it difficult for him to gain a clear view of what was waiting for him outside, so his gun appeared before he did.

Bryan had no sooner emerged bodily when a foot kicked his hand and forced him to drop the weapon. He tried to usher a warning to Fred when he saw a fist flying at him. He counted two men and faced first the one who had disarmed him while his other companion went after Fred.

"RUN!" Bryan ordered her as he caught the fist coming at him and swung hard with one of his own.

Bryan did not miss and promptly threw a fist in his face and did not miss. Knuckle connected with jaw, momentarily disorientating his opponent and giving him time enough to close in for the kill. Without thinking twice, Bryan had his opponent’s head in his hands and twisted viciously, his success signaled the awful sound of bone crunching. The man went limp almost immediately and Aaron shoved him hard at the second man who had been trying to shoot him during the struggle. The body slammed hard into him, causing the enemy’s aim to waver and giving Bryan enough the advantage he needed to disarm him.

Saeran’s agent pushed away his comrade’s body only to be confronted by Bryan who kicked the gun out of his hand in a powerful front kick. Using its momentum, Bryan swung around and delivered another blow to the man’s sternum. As his enemy stumbled to the floor, Bryan dove towards his gun. Rolling over neatly, Bryan grasped the butt of his weapon and took aim at the same time the third gunmen discovered that his opponent had retreated. They were running out of time and Bryan did not want to waste more or it or his ammunition and promptly fired one shot. A good marksman only needed one shot in Bryan’s opinion and when the bullet slammed into the gunmen’s skull, it appeared that he had chosen the right one.

He did not have time to relish his victory because he heard Fred screaming. He had been so busy fighting the enemy, he had not even considered the fate of his young charge after telling her to run. With something akin to panic, Bryan sought out the source of the scream and found it not far away from him. The man who had managed to grab Fred was having a great deal of trouble hanging onto the child who was kicking like a hellion. For a six-year-old, Bryan was quite impressed by the struggle she was putting up.

"Let her go!" He shouted at the would be abductor.

"I don’t think so," the kidnapper declared defiantly when suddenly Fred utilized the only weapon at the disposal of a six-year-old child. She sunk her teeth into the hand holding the gun with all the strength she could muster. The man cried out in pain and dropped her. No sooner than Fred had touched the ground, Bryan had let loose another series of shots, these were decidedly lacking in the finesse of the other but no less lethal. The sounds of exploding gunfire made Fred cover her ears in fright and even after the man had fallen down in a heap, was she still huddled close with her knees beneath her chin, trembling.

"Fred!" Bryan ran to her, fearful that the whole scene might have been too much for her, especially when two of his opponents were bleeding like stuck pigs. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she nodded and hugged him immediately, clinging to him with dear life because he was the only one in the world who could keep her safe from the darkness that was pursuing her. "Are you okay?" she stammered.

"Take more than them to do me in," he said touched by the tears of relief he saw in her eyes at his answer and offered her a wry smile of encouragement. "Come on, we have to keep moving."

"Your box!" She cried out and displayed the astounding resilience of children as she wiped her eyes and hurried to the metal box she had dropped during the struggle.

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

Their trek across country had transpired without incident after Eve learnt which side of the road she ought to be driving. The journey had taken them through the splendor of the Scottish Highland and across Loch Ness. The interval between large towns had also given the elves time to become acclimated to the metropolis that would overwhelm them undoubtedly when they arrived at London. The smaller cities of Perth, Dundee heightened their awareness of being in the modern world, though they did not stay long in Glasgow and took the easterly course at Penrith so that they could avoid Manchester and the many satellite cities in close proximity around it.

The elves thought that the area of Nottingham felt familiar and it was Gandalf who revealed that the Old Woods beyond the Shire had left some remnants of itself in Sherwood. Many elves had taken the paths through the forest when journeying to the Havens and it was Haldir who thought that he felt some remnant of that passage for he and Celeborn had once made the crossing. Haldir was very unimpressed at the current state of those magnificent woods and though some of it still remained, most of it had been trampled under the heavy machinery of progress. It was hard on them, seeing the world so changed, remembering the friends left behind, the ones whose homes they were now moving through, with no trace left behind to mark their existence except in the memory of the immortals.

After Nottingham, the distance to London grew considerably short and a stop at a telephone booth, provided Aaron with the information he needed to know Tory’s current address. Tory who was a lawyer, lived in a rather up market part of town and was not home when Aaron called to let her know that they were coming. Fortunately, it was still early in the day when he had made his call and knew that by the time they actually arrived at her address, it would be well into evening.

He had last spoken to Tory after the business with the Malcolm Building, omitting that he had any complicity in its destruction. Instead, he called to explain why the news of Stuart’s death had not come from him. He had cited his recent unemployment, the reason for his lapse and Tory was a good enough friend not to blame him for his lapse. He wondered how she would take seeing him after almost a year’s absence. She was one of the few people he considered family and knew that she would have been concerned. For his sake as well as her own, Aaron had thought it best that she did not know anything about why he was running and hoped that when he explained himself now, she would understand.

"This place reminds me of Baradur," Haldir remarked as they drove towards Tory’s house in Hillingdon in the semi-quiet streets. It was well past the evening rush of traffic and as night settled upon the city, the frantic activity of the day had given way to a more sedate atmosphere. There were people up and about but their pace was decidedly languid and in the night, with a myriad of lights scattered across the darkened skyline, London had its own beauty.

"Baradur?" Aaron stared at him.

"Sauron’s capital in the Second and Third Age," Legolas said helpfully.

"The guy with the ring?" Eve asked, looking over the edges of the street directory they had bought to find Tory address.

"Oh London’s not that bad," Aaron defended the city which he always found charming because of its Old World quality. "I mean sure, its not Tirion or Aqualonde but it’s got its own charm. This has been the center of the civilized world for almost a thousand years."

"Yeah, if we weren’t here to stop a terrible evil from decimating the entire planet, I’d be off sight seeing in a second. I want to see Buckingham Palace and check out the Tower of London. Now that’s a place that took its law enforcement seriously," she remarked mischievously, earning an affection smile from Aaron.

"So much is covered in steel and stone," Haldir replied finding it all very disconcerting that he could not see trees and open spaces. His eye caught sight of her a buxom blond walking her dog down the sidewalk clad in very little and wondered how these people could function with such impractical attire at times. To him, the modern world was a grimy place with garish lights and too much reliance on technology. "Its no wonder this world is on the brink of destruction when all reverence to life has been forgotten."

"Do not be so quick to judge it Haldir," Legolas said seriously. "There is great courage here too." He replied staring at Aaron and Eve as he stated those words. "If not, Morgoth would still walk the earth."

"Aaron," Gandalf spoke up as the Ford took a turn up a tree-lined street. "How do you think your friend will receive us?"

"Tory’s okay," Aaron replied. "She may have a thousand questions before the night is over but I trust her."

Eve cast Aaron a short glance and felt an involuntary pang of jealousy when wondering exactly what was the nature of Aaron’s relationship with Stuart’s ex wife. He seemed to think that she could be trusted with his life and wondered what supported such faith. However, as soon as the thought crossed her mind, Eve brushed it aside because she trusted Aaron and took comfort in the fact that he had loved her all his life and even before it. There was something comforting about knowing that they were destined to be together because it had always been that way.

"Well, its look like you better get ready to answer them because we’re here," Eve remarked upon arriving at their destination.

Tory’s home was a two story, detached house that was one of many on a single block, preceded by a row of trees along the sidewalk. It did not take long for Aaron to discern which one was Tory’s and judging by the lights, the lady was home already.

"Okay, you’re up." Eve replied once the car had come to a halt outside the curb.

Aaron nodded somberly as he climbed out of the car. What he was about to tell Tory would change everything she knew about the world and yet there was never a question about not telling her because she was his friend and if life was to be placed in jeopardy because of him, she deserved to know why. He hoped that Tory would believe that he was not insane, that he seen what seen since the day Gandalf had become his patient. He hoped she would understand.

Hell knows, in her position, he wouldn’t.

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

Victoria Harding was having a bad day.

It started off with an appointment with a client whose odiousness was so apparent that she almost wished that it was possible to ignore the fact that everyone should be considered innocent until proven otherwise. The man was charged with a variety of offenses, relating from prostitution to extortion. In legal fees alone, he could pay for the mortgage on her house. There had been a moment when she had almost been tempted to take the case, to see that the vermin’s legal rights were defended so that he could be unleashed upon society once again. However, Tory preferred being able to sleep at night and though it was not a practice encouraged by her colleagues, found that to achieve this peace required her to do the unthinkable at times, refusing clients that offended even her sensibilities.

Even the ones who could pay the mortgage on her house.

After he had sleazed out of her office, she had found herself lost in paperwork, held up by continuances and deposing witnesses whose stories changed from one second to the next. By the time she staggered out of her office after dark, Tory was really starting to think that perhaps it was best if she gave up law and went to a secluded island to take up basket weaving for a living. It was certainly a good deal more peaceful. Tory’s practice was established enough for her to make that choice. In her mid thirties, Tory had worked as barrister for the crown until establishing her own law practice. She dealt mostly in criminal law but was known to take on the odd pro bono case when her interest was sparked.

She had been married once, to the most inoffensive American she had ever met but divorced five years later because they could not offer a civil word to each other without breaking into an argument a minute later. At thirty-five, she was still an attractive woman with dark red hair and emerald colored eyes that apparently earned her the reputation as the stereotypical fiery red head. She could have remarried if she liked but the truth was, Tory liked her independence and found that marriage had only produced in her the desire to be single again.

After walking through the front door of her house, she had dumped her briefcase on the sofa, kicked off her shoes and tossed away her suit coat. In a final act of rebellion, she untucked her blouse and loosened her collar. There was something delightfully satisfying about prowling her own house still clad in nylons and work clothes (suitably ruffled of course) before placing herself in front of the telly, eating ice cream with a spoon straight from the carton it came in.

She was in the middle of another guilty pleasure, an episode of Ally McBeal, when she heard a knock on the door. Muttering lightly to herself in displeasure at being bothered by unannounced visitors, who was most likely her next door neighbor Mrs. Draper dropping in for a bit of inane gossip, Tory considered the briefly the notion of making herself look a little more respectable before she answered the door. However, she soon abandoned the idea in the hopes her appearance might impart to Mrs. Draper she did not wish visitors right now.

"Aaron!" She gasped, genuinely astonished by the sight of him.

"Hey Tor," Aaron grinned, surprising himself by how glad he was to see her after all this time.

The two friends came together in a warm embrace before Tory pulled away and looked at the psychiatrist, she had spent a great deal of expense and effort trying to locate over the past year. She had given up hope of ever seeing her old friend again and was still reeling from the fact that was suddenly here on the doorstep. It was almost surreal.

"Where have you been?" Tory demanded staring at Aaron. "I’ve been trying like hell to find you! Aaron where have you been the last twelve months?"

She fired another rapid series of questions at him, one after the other, giving him little chance to respond to any before he was forced to stop her before she buried him in them. He could not blame her for her desire to know his whereabouts the past year. She was the closest thing he had to a sister and though she lived an ocean away, he supposed he should have let her know that he was dropping out of sight before he actually did.

"Tory, can we talk inside please?" He asked.

"Of course," she replied still rather shaken as she withdrew from the foyer into the living room, expecting him to follow her.

Aaron followed her in after closing the door behind him, noticing that she was somewhat dazed by his sudden appearance on her doorstep and could not blame her for her reaction. After all, he had disappeared and reappeared in her life without so much as a word and their relationship after her divorce with Stuart had been one of deep friendship, even though it had never been more than that. Both were too comfortable with each other as friends to ever change the dynamic with anything as inconvenient as a romantic liaison. Aaron pondered what he would say to her once they were able to talk. How was she going to react when he told her about Valinor?

Tory was waiting for him when he entered the living room and was about to open his mouth to speak when she came at him and struck his squarely across the jaw. He staggered a little, almost losing his balance but the blow did not surprise him. In fact, he was rather amazed that it had not come sooner than this.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" She demanded angrily. "Do you have any idea what I have been through the last twelve months? You disappeared without a trace. First Stuart is killed and then you disappear? The police were no help at all and I was starting to think that there was a reason why they were being such indifferent bastards. I even hired a private investigator to find you and he traced you as far as Point Pleasant and then nothing! Do you know what that was like? To lose both my friends at once?"

"I’m sorry Tor," Aaron apologized once more and hugged her again to show her that he was sincere. "I should have let you know that I was going but I couldn’t, I didn’t want you to involve in the mess I was in."

"Mess," she dried the tears that had come from a mixture of anger and happiness to see him. "What bloody mess are you talking about? Being fired?"

"No," Aaron shook his head and supposed that the best way to approach this was to simply tell her the truth, that was the basis of their friendship and there was no reason to change that now. "The Malcolm Building."

"The Malcolm Building?" Her eyes widened in shock. "What do you mean?"

"I was there the day it exploded," Aaron confessed.

"Did you have anything to do with it?" She asked, suddenly feeling the need to sit down.

"Yes and no," Aaron replied honestly. "I know why it was destroyed but I didn’t do it."

"Care to enlighten me?" She looked at him.

"I would but its not anything you’re going to accept," Aaron said gingerly, truly believing it.

"I’m a barrister Aaron," Tory retorted. "You would be surprised of what I am able to accept."

Aaron took a deep breath and supposed that if he was going to enlist her help in their quest, he would have to tell her whole truth. He began his tale at his first meeting with Gandalf and progressed to his meeting with Eve, the elves and their belief that he was the reincarnation of an ancient king, almost a hundred thousand years ago. Tory listened in silence, saying little in response and allowing him to continue without interruption as he explained how John Malcolm was actually a dark lord named Melkor and had how he had been destroyed by the power of the Ainur and the Great Music.

When he had finally finished, Tory did not speak and appeared as if she was digesting everything he had said to her. A few minutes had ticked by and despite being a psychiatrist, Aaron could not for the life of him predict what her reaction would be. How would he react after being confronted with such a fantastic tale? Would she think him insane?

"Aaron, you need help," Tory declared and confirmed Aaron’s suspicion.

"I"m not crazy Tor," Aaron exhaled, disappointed by her response but not in the least bit shocked by it. "I saw it all and I’ve been to Valinor. I’ve seen where they come from and it’s as real as you and I standing here."

"Aaron, it’s insane!" Tory retorted unable to accept such a fantastic tale because that’s what it was. Fantastic. "You’re a psychiatrist. Surely you must know how you sound?"

"I know how I sound," he returned wearily, having prepared for this argument the moment he had decided to call on her for help when they arrived in London, "but I also know that everything I’ve told you is real. The clock is ticking Tor. Something is happening out here and if we don’t find out what, then a lot of people are going to die. Everything we know is going to end and Valinor will be al that’s left."

"Aaron..." Tory started to speak when suddenly the door knocked again.

"Christ!" She swore in annoyance as she brushed past Aaron grumbling loudly. "If its that’s bloody Mrs. Draper about what the dog down the road did to her cat...."

"Eve?" Aaron’s voice sailed over her shoulder before Tory could speak.

"You know these people?" Tory looked at him with accusation.

"We were starting to draw suspicion," Eve declared, tilting her head slightly so that she could see Aaron while speaking past Tory. "There’s some old lady out there staring at us as if we’re casing the neighborhood. If we didn’t come in, I think she was going to call the cops."

"That would be Mrs. Draper," Tory replied with a sigh and knew the woman was telling the truth. Mrs. Draper had a tendency to be somewhat paranoid about strangers in the neighborhood. Tory knew she was going to regret this but she could not leave the standing outside, especially if there were Aaron’s friends.

Despite his incredible tale, Tory still cared a great deal for her ex-husband’s best friend. During the years when her marriage to Stuart was imploding, Aaron had been a loyal friend to both of them, offering advice not merely as a psychiatrist but also as someone who cared about them without being impartial to either. Even after its end, when she had been a wreck in the wake of the divorce, he had been there for her and never taken advantage of the situation, as many men might do if presented with the opportunity. For that she loved him dearly, not like a lover but as the brother she never had. If he said he was in trouble and needed her help, Tory would not deny him, no matter how insane his story sounded.

"You had better come in," she said widening her door so that the eclectic group could enter the premises.

"Thank you Tor," Aaron returned gratefully as Tory led her into the house.

"Don’t thank me just yet," Tory declared as she walked past him. "I still think you’re insane."

*********

The hotel clerk had given Bryan a sour look when he had rented the room in the company of a six year old girl. Fortunately, the nature of the establishment ensured that the man would remain discreet since most of the patrons preferred to remain anonymous. Located in the seedier part of London’s West End, Bryan had serious misgivings about finding accommodation in a place where most of the clientele were working girls and rooms were rented by the hour. However, he had little choice if he wanted to keep himself and Fred out of harms way. Besides, as rooms went, the hotel room was functional. It had a television, a sort of mini-bar and a relatively clean bed.

They had arrived here after a nightmarish trip through a department store where Bryan had been forced to wander through the children’s section with Fred wearing his coat to avoid exposing her bloodied nightgown. After a harrowing hour, he had completed the task of getting Fred some clothes and felt himself empathizing greatly with the masses of young fathers wandering the aisles, entrusted with the task of clothing their children. Fortunately, Fred had made the ordeal a little more tolerable when she addressed him as dad during the period that Bryan was forced to acquire the assistance of a salesgirl who was certain that he was a weekend father with no sense about anything.

After buying the child some suitable clothing, Bryan had fled from the supermarket deciding that if he ever decided to have children, there was going to be a wife dealing with matters such as this. Being a paratrooper was nowhere as daunting as trying to navigate through a shopping center. In any case, the little girl was now parked in front of the television set in her new jeans, T-shirt and sneakers, quite contently watching cartoons. Apparently something called the Powerpuff Girls had her undivided attention at present. For Bryan, his own attention was fixated on the box that he had been so careful to take with him when he left his apartment.

He fingered the thick wad of notes held together with a money clip and counted it quickly to see how fiscal he was. If Caldwell had been responsible for those men turning up at his apartment this morning, then he could no longer use his credit card because it was an easy matter for MI6 to trace him by his purchases. There was almost ten thousand pounds in legal tender in his hand and it was more than enough for him to lay low for a time, or at the very worse get as far away from here as possible.

However having money was not enough to vanish completely and included with the cash was a new passport, driver’s license and even a credit card registered to the name of Michael Flannery. It was far simpler to vanish into thin air as someone else and the passport and driver’s license would ensure that he could leave the country if he ever felt the need to run. Bryan sincerely hoped he would not have to use any of these items but until he knew what they were up against exactly, he would prefer to keep the contents of the box close by.

As Fred watched her cartoons, Bryan stared at his cell phone wondering if he ought to risk a telephone call to Caldwell, in order to give him a chance to explain. The idea that Caldwell who had been a trusted veteran of the Firm for as long as he knew, to be the source of the leak that had sent those hired killers to his home was beyond preposterous and understandably difficult to believe. However, Caldwell had told him to sit tight at home and was the only one who knew that Fred was with him. Bryan did not believe in coincidences and he knew how it felt to be given away. If Caldwell had not done it then someone was watching the MI6 supervisor closely and Bryan could not risk contacting him again.

He was contemplating this to great degree when suddenly, the cell phone in his hand started ringing, startling Fred and he to a lesser extent. The digital screen flashed the number of the incoming call and Bryan raised a brow at not recognizing it. Fred had turned around and was staring at him in anticipation, waiting to see if he would answer it or not. In truth, Bryan was trying to decide it himself and met her gaze. He could see the fear in her eyes and loathed placing her in another situation like the one she had been this morning. In the space of twenty four hours, the child had two attempts on his life and Bryan did not want to give someone the opportunity to make it three for three.

"Are you going to answer it?" She asked softly.

"I think I should," he replied and saw her nodding in understanding, almost as if she was giving him permission to do so.

The cell phone continued to ring and possibly sounded more insistent, if such a thing was possible from an electronic device. Finally, Bryan accepted the call and held the phone to his ear, deciding that he would stop this foolishness. He had kept them alive so far and would continue to do so no matter who was on the other end.

"Hello," he said cautiously.

"Bryan, is that you?" A decidedly American voice asked.

Bryan blinked, caught completely by surprise as he searched his memory as to who might be speaking and a name came to him almost immediately. "Robert?"

Robert Stanley was his contact in CIA and one of his chief sources of information during the investigation into the destruction of the Malcolm Building, particularly on the subject of Doctor Aaron Stone. It had been months since he had heard from Roberts who had little to report after the CIA had thrown up their hands in defeat as to the present whereabouts of the good doctor. He and Robert had been friends from years back when they had worked together on an assignment. Since then, Robert had been one of his unofficial sources who filtered to him useful information when the Americans were unwilling to share their intelligence.

"Yeah its me," Robert replied. "I know you usually prefer to call me but I have a lead on that cop you were trying to trace."

Like all men in the business, there was never any point wasting time on idle chatter when there was news to impart. Personal queries could wait until after the information was given. Robert was no exception. He had been in the CIA as along as Bryan had been MI6 operative.

"You do?" Bryan asked automatically, sitting up straighter on the be.

"Yeah, Eve McCaughley isn’t it?"

"That’s right," Bryan nodded remembering how his efforts to locate Stone following the destruction of the Malcolm Building had led him to Eve McCaughley.

He had tracked Stone to Point Pleasant and found no further trace of the doctor other than a sighting of him on a boat. It had been Bryan’s belief that Stone had purchased a boat and fled the country before the authorities closed in on him. The kind of vessel that Stone would need to sail out of American jurisdiction could not be bought without records and during his inquiries, Bryan had been unable to produce any vessel belonging to the doctor. The only new boat to arrive into the Point Pleasant harbor during the period that Aaron Stone was meant to have been in the vicinity, was a motor yacht called the Anemone and she belonged to an Eve McCaughley.

In an effort to be thorough, Bryan had run a check on Eve McCaughley and found that she was respected and decorated officer of the New York City Police. Aside from a distinguished record, there was no evidence that McCaughley and Stone had ever met. A recent fire had seen Eve come into a tidy sum of insurance money, which she had apparently used to buy a boat. Bryan had not thought anything of it because he could appreciate the need for a homicide cop to desire a little sojourn on the high seas. In fact, Bryan was almost ready to disregard McCaughley completely until he discovered that her last case prior to her application of indefinite leave, was investigating a murder of a Malcolm Industries employee.

Bryan did not believe in coincidences and when he had attempted to trace the woman, discovered her to be just as elusive as Doctor Stone. The Anemone had not pulled into port anywhere in the world for almost twelve months and Bryan had to wonder if Eve McCaughley was not somehow involved in the building’s destruction as well. In any case, he had kept his suspicions to himself, since he had no real proof of her involvement. All he had done was to ask Robert to keep an eye out for the woman if she ever surfaced again.

"Well apparently, she bought a car in some place called Lochinver a little less than 48 hours ago, using her credit card," Robert reported.

"Lochinver?" Bryan exclaimed. "Scotland?"

"Yeah," he could imagine Robert nodding his head on the other side of the Atlantic. "I’ve got multiple credit card payments heading southwards. I don’t know why you’re so interested in an NYPD cop but apparently the lady is heading towards London."

Bryan had never told Robert specifically why he was so interested in Eve McCaughley. Robert was a friend but he was also CIA and had to answer to superiors just as much as Bryan. A lead on Aaron Stone was something he would have to bring to his superiors, despite their longstanding friendship. Bryan’s had made the request citing it to be a personal favor and Robert had not asked him to elaborate. Bryan preferred to leave it that way.

"Thanks Robert," Bryan said gratefully. "I’ll deal with it from here."

"What you not even going to tell me what this is about? She’s quite a looker. Is she a girlfriend or something?"

"Something like that," Bryan replied, deciding it was better that Robert believed exactly what he had supposed, that Eve was an old girlfriend.

"Well the next time you need to find one of your girlfriends, try missing persons," Robert returned sarcastically. "I’d like to see you settle down with a nice girl myself but I’m not about to be your dating service."

"Sorry," Bryan feigned an apology to salve Robert’s feelings. He liked the man and did not wish to lie to him but that was the way the game was played sometimes. No one was quite what they appeared, not even him. "I’ll send you an invitation to the wedding."

"Right," Robert said skeptically. "I gotta go, you take care of yourself."

"You too Robert," Bryan replied with genuine warmth before the line between them was terminated.

Bryan stared at the cell phone for a long minute, trying to process the information that he had just received, unaware that Fred was staring at him in question. When he noticed those powerful blue orbs staring at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern, Bryan could not help but smile a little. She was extremely sensible for a little girl and then there were other times when she was very much as a six year old should be. He looked around the room and wondered if it was a safe place and whether or not it was possible to leave her here for a few hours.

It took him no more than a split second to decide that it was not.

"Fred, I need to go somewhere for awhile but I don’t want to leave you here," Bryan explained, having no desire to deceive her. "If you come with me, you must do exactly what I tell you."

"Don’t leave me Bryan," she said meeting his eyes. "I don’t want to be by myself. I’ll be good."

Her plea speared his heart like a knife and Bryan offered her a little smile. "I know you will luv. I wish there was some place safe for you but there isn’t at the moment."

"Where are we going?" Fred asked.

"Who?"

"Just someone," Bryan answered, reluctant to give her a name because Eve McCaughley had been his own little secret, one he was unwilling to relinquish to anyone, even now. "She’s someone who could lead me to the one person who may be able to tell me why all this is happening."

And it was the truth. Eve McCaughley was his lead and if she was here in London, then perhaps Aaron Stone was too and if that were the case, then the good doctor might just be tempted to look up an old friend.

Even if she was his best friend’s ex-wife.

Part Five
The Son of Gondor 

It was warm this time of the year in North Dakota.

The heat soaked through his uniform and moistened his skin beneath the fabric. Colonel Walter Green adjusted his collar as he walked across the base towards the parking lot, eager to make his appointment in the city.  Even though the sun was setting in the horizon, the heat did not abate and Green who had started life close to the Canadian border wished that it would rain so that the temperature would cool down.  He hated the weather with a passion despite having been posted here for more than twelve months already.  Still, the assignment was an important one and the patriot in him who saw the duty he was entrusted with as more than just another military posting but rather a sacred trust, had come to conclusion that enduring the unseasonable heat was a small price to play for serving his country.

In this day and age when terrorism was running rife throughout the civilized world, the September 11th attacks in New York had convinced America that the nation were fighting a different kind of war, one where the front lines were not in foreign lands but rather on home soil. In this climate of growing awareness of how vulnerable they were despite being a superpower, it was the bases at home rather than abroad that were being placed under the greatest scrutiny.   In the war with this new enemy, America had learnt that the offensive would begin at home and eternal vigilance was their only defense.

Security within facilities such as Grand Forks, Barksdale and Ellsworth were placed under tight scrutiny with all systems being evaluated and improved to avoid impending disaster. Although the likelihood of a terrorist attack on any of these locations was remote, the US strategic command preferred not to gamble when it came to its nuclear arsenal. Even one of the Class LGM-30 Minuteman III ICBMs stored in these locations could cause untold destruction. While it seemed impossible that the enemy could ever pass the stringent checks required to gain access to the weapons or any of the centers that could facilitate a launch, strategic command had to remember that the same was once thought of the World Trade Center.

It was Colonel Walter Green’s duty to ensure that the security of these weapons were assured, that by his actions, the most dangerous weapons in the US military arsenal was kept under strict surveillance. Green took pride in the position, knowing that by doing his job well, he ensured that innocent people across the country were able to rest easy.  Personally, he did not want to see the day when his ‘charges’ were put to use. He might have been a career military officer but he understood the weapons for what they were, the last resort of a different time, quickly gaining obsolescence.  It was one redundancy that Green was happy to see.

He glanced at his watch as he reached the parking lot and cursed under his breath because he was late.  His last meeting ran longer than it should have and he knew that he was going to have a devil of a time getting across Grand Forks to make the engagement without being late. Fortunately, Elizabeth would understand, he thought with a smile. She knew what he did for a living and appreciated that there were times when there would be late meetings. Still, Green did not wish to disappoint her if he could avoid it.  Elizabeth Albrecht had been the one bright spot in his personal life since being posted to Grand Forks and its insufferable heat.

They had met at a camp function and hit it off immediately. Ten years his junior, Elizabeth was a school teacher in her thirties, with wild blond hair and a dimpled smile that probably dazzled the male students of her class just as much as he, when she first cast her gaze upon him. They had been seeing each other for quite some time now with Green proposing less than a week ago. He felt infused with warmth as he remembered her happy expression as he presented her with the diamond ring and was equally touched when she declared that she was going to give him one as well, as a token of their bond.

She taught English literature so Green was unsurprised by her somewhat flowery ideas of romance. In fact, the reason for his determination to make their engagement this evening on time was because he knew that she was picking his ring from the jewelers today. No doubt, she wanted to present it to him with a little bit of ceremony.  Honestly, Green was not that partial to wearing jewelry but it would make Elizabeth happy and with that in mind, supposed he could endure it.

After all, it was just a ring.

************ 

Aaron could tell Tory was having difficulty dealing with what he had told to her and it was not merely because she was still wearing the same look of incredulity for the past hour or the fact that she was staring at Legolas and Haldir with wide eyes. Especially after they had removed their caps and revealed to her that they were elves.   She had lowered herself in a comfortable wing chair and continued to stare, despite Aaron’s best efforts to explain things.

Tory was a woman who often needed to be in control of a situation, in particular, her own. To be confronted with something so incredible was straining her grasp of reality. After all, she was a barrister, who held the law in reverence and the basis for the way she viewed society. Whether or not it was the law of the land, the law of physics or nature, it was still an absolute definition of how she perceived things. The notion of Valinor, elves and dark powers steeped in magic was more than she could deal with all at once. He began to seriously question whether or not telling her the whole truth had been such a wise idea.

“This is insane,” she kept repeating to herself as she sat in her chair staring at Legolas and Haldir.

“Look I know this is difficult to deal with but trust me, I was a cop in New York and I’m telling you they are elves,” Eve volunteered, trying to reach the woman with whom she could feel some empathy.  She remembered how she had been after learning the origins of Legolas, Elrohir and Elladan in her house more than a year ago.

Eve had not taken it any better than Tory did.

“Elves are fiction!” Tory exclaimed.  “They’re the kind of things that appear in fairy tales for children, they are not real!

“Are all the women in this realm so obtuse?" Haldir asked, staring at the others in question.   While he did not understand completely what the woman had been saying, he comprehended that she had some difficulty in accepting himself and Legolas as elves.

“What is he saying?” Tory returned when she realised that one of the ‘elves’ had spoken and she had not understood a word he said.

“Haldir, it is not her fault,” Legolas frowned. “These people have been denied the knowledge of our history. There is nothing of the Valar, Valinor, the elves or Middle earth in their history. We cannot even claim to be myth.”

“WHAT IS HE SAYING?” Tory snapped again.

“Take it easy, Tory,” Aaron came to her, trying to calm her down. “I know it’s hard...”

“HARD?” She fairly roared. “You disappear for a year, without a word and then you come back with a story so incredible that no sane person could possibly believe it and you’re telling me that you’ve hiding out with elves? If you weren't already a psychiatrist, I would say you need one!”

“This is tiresome,” Gandalf finally weighed in. 

The wizard had been resting on the sofa, listening to the younger members of his company attempt rather unsuccessfully to cut through twenty first-century reasoning. The young woman which he sensed could be of great help to them in their quest was wholly unconvinced despite the evidence of her own eyes.   Like Aaron, he understood her skepticism but time was becoming scarce. The evil that was unleashed upon this world with the return of Melkor and the rest of his minions was reaching climax and if they did not put an end to it soon, all would suffer a catastrophe greater than the destruction of Beleriand.

Gandalf crossed the wooden floor and paused in front of Tory. The staff that had seen him through so many trials had been metamorphosed into a contemporary walking stick with an ornate crystal head.

“Young lady,” Gandalf lowered himself to his knees before Tory and took her hand in his. “I know this is difficult for you to believe and under any other circumstances, I would be inclined to allow you the time needed to adjust to the truth but what is out there in your world is growing in strength. I can feel it tugging at each corner of the globe, preparing to reach fruition. We need your assistance if we are to complete our quest, I hope that you can put aside your disbelief to help us because we have little time in which to act.”

Tory looked at the old man with his kindly blue eyes and felt her heart wanting to believe but it was her mind that she put most stock in and at the moment, she could not overcome the barrier of skepticism no matter how much she tried.  “It's not that I don’t want to believe,” Tory confessed, shifting her gaze between Gandalf and Aaron, “it’s that I can’t.  Aaron,  I’m sorry I can’t accept what you’re saying as the truth.”

“Even with these two standing here?” Eve challenged before Aaron could, pointing at Haldir and Legolas, her patience starting to erode.

“As odd as their ears appear to be,” Tory declared defiantly, “they are rather human looking for elves.”

“I find that insulting,” Haldir who could understand English but not speak it well, turned to Legolas in response.

“Be quiet,” Legolas growled, glaring at him sharply.

“I’m afraid then you leave me no choice,” Gandalf sighed as if reluctant to embark upon this course but there was no other alternative.  They needed this woman and mere words would not break through the conditioning of her twenty first-century paranoia and sensibilities.  It would require something with a little more potency.

“What do you mean...?” Aaron asked anxiously as he saw Gandalf raising his walking stick between himself and Tory.

Without saying another word, a flash of white light flooded the space between the old man and the woman. It emanated from the crystal orb that perched upon the walking stick. Aaron flinched as the brilliance overloaded his vision receptors and saw the others turning away similarly. He took a step forward despite it, fear and concern for Tory overriding his caution.

“No Aaron,” Eve grabbed his arm and cried out, “let him do what he has to!”

The sphere of white light trapped Tory’s eyes as it flooded her vision and drained away all semblance of the physical world.  She wanted to close her eyes but was unable, fixated on the power generated by the orb, the power that was Gandalf’s self when he was not flesh, showing her things, things that she could not imagine and yet knew, at the very core of her to be the truth. She saw images flashing in her mind like a picture slide show.  It felt as if they appearing before her eyes but in truth knew that these images were being fed directly into her brain.

Tory Harding saw her people awakening at Hildorien, saw the world they had built and the friends they had made in the elves. She saw that man was once one of many races that held dominion over the earth, before the time of the great darkness and the great loneliness that came when all the others abandoned the world and man was left behind.  She saw kingdoms they had built and the wars they had fought, side by side, man and elf, elf and dwarf, dwarf and ent, ent and hobbit.  A parliament of races that once walked side by side, all gone, all disappeared into earth until man was all that was left and in the deep of him, the loss of the others had left him incomplete, always searching and yet never finding.

“Oh God!” She uttered softly as it all crowded in on her thoughts, marrying the disbelief of her mind with the understanding of her heart. 

“Tory!” Aaron broke free from Eve as the light died and with it, Tory’s consciousness.  The lady slumped back against the chair, her mind unable to process what it had seen and maintain awareness at the same time.

Aaron was at her side in seconds, the physician in him taking hold completely. “What did you do Gandalf?” He demanded.

“Calm yourself,” Gandalf rose to his feet, not at all perturbed by Aaron’s demand, aware of the affection the younger man held for the woman. “She will be fine and when she awakes, she will be more receptive to our presence.”

“What did you do?” Eve questioned; trying not to feel threatened by the attention Aaron was displaying towards Tory. In her heart, she knew that Aaron’s love was hers but Eve had been a policewoman too long to be completely indifferent to the suspicion of there being more between them. 

“I merely opened her mind to the past,” Gandalf replied. “I allowed her to see briefly what had been before the man was alone on this world. It is a great deal to accept all at once and I fear her mind chose to shut down in order to deal with the images. She will awaken when it has adjusted to the truth she has been shown.”

“It is a great deal to ask of her,” Legolas commented sympathetically. “It is difficult to believe when one feels so extraordinarily secure in one's own world.”

“You said that she was necessary to us,” Haldir asked staring at Tory, not entirely impressed by the barrister. “I do not see how.  If anything I think she will hinder us.”

“There is strength in unlikely places Master Elf,” Gandalf retorted. “My instincts tell me that she has a part to play in all this and there are many forces rallied against, some that we are yet unaware of.  If we are to combat them, then we will need all the allies we are able to find.”

Haldir was not entirely convinced as he glanced briefly at the woman Aaron was moving towards the sofa, quite unconscious. “I will trust your judgement in this Olorin but I cannot see what advantage, if any will she be to us.”

“I think when the times comes she will surprise us all,” Legolas retorted in Tory’s defense, confident that Gandalf did not speak such words lightly. After all, Legolas had once been apart of the Fellowship and if anything had convinced him that weakness could mask great strength, it was the four hobbits that had been his comrades during the greatest quest of his life.

“I hope so,” Eve replied staring at the way Aaron was tending to Tory, telling herself for the hundredth time that there was nothing between her lover and his old friend. “I really hope so.”

***********

Bryan dared not risk approaching Victoria Harding’s house during the day because the rest of MI6 knew what he did, that Victoria Harding and Aaron Stone were known associates. Apparently they had met during Stone’s visit to England with his deceased friend Stuart Farmer some years ago.  Harding had married Farmer and returned to America six months later. Although the marriage ended in divorce five years after, it was obvious that the two had remained close friends as Harding had instigated a private investigation into Aaron’s disappearance. News of the psychiatrist’s possible complicity in the destruction of the Malcolm Building was never made public because of the scarcity of evidence.

If MI6 suspected what he did, that Eve McCaughley was connected to Aaron Stone, they would be led here as well and now that Bryan found himself an outcast thanks to Caldwell, he could not risk their interference until he knew the truth himself.  With every fiber of his being, Bryan knew that Aaron Stone had all his answers or if not, some pieces of the puzzle.  It was well after dark when Bryan arrived at Harding’s home with Fred in the passenger seat. He wished there was someone he could trust enough to leave Fred with because he did not think that she should be out in the open like this. Unfortunately, if Caldwell was involved, he had no choice. If it was the old boy who had sacrificed him to David Saeran, then nowhere was safe.

Finding the darkest corner of the street, he parked the car, praying that the shadows would hide it and Fred for the duration of time he needed to be away from her.  The child’s face had been on the news everywhere and he could not risk Harding getting the police involved if she saw the little girl.  Fred had climbed into the backseat, perfectly content to remain hidden in the shadows until Bryan returned, understanding his reason for leaving her. The doubt she had about him since this nightmare began had faded away into complete trust that he would protect her no matter what.  She knew that she could rely on him to find her or come to her aid if she was in trouble.

“Take this piece of paper,” he handed it to her. “If anything happens to me while I’m in there, I want you to knock on someone's door and tell them to call the police You give them that piece of paper which has my brother’s name and address on it.  Frank loves kids and has two of his own; he’ll look after you for me in anything goes wrong. Do you understand?”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” she said quietly. “I don’t want you to go away like mummy and daddy.”

Bryan swallowed thickly and replied, his voice bleeding with emotion, “I don’t plan on anything happening to me Fred but we need to be careful nonetheless. Now if you see anything while I’m in there, you press that horn and make as much noise as you can, just like I showed you.  As soon I hear you, I will be back. I don't intend to be gone for very long, I promise.”

“Okay,” she nodded obediently.  “I’ll wait here.”

“That’s a good girl,” Bryan answered with a smile. Fortunately, Fred seemed to have a sense for trouble and suspected that if anyone attempted to sneak up on her, she would know it anyway.  Bryan was certain that how she was able to know this was connected to the fact that her pursuers were not entirely human.

In the last few hours, he had plenty of time to reflect upon his situation.  He had believed initially that the death of Fred’s family had been an abduction gone wrong but now he was not as certain as he once was.  Even when those creatures had her in their grasp, they had not killed her, in fact, it appeared as if they were attempting to take her alive.  He had thought that perhaps it was because she had seen them kill and then decided that it was not expedient to allow her to live with that information. Yet both times, when they had her in their sights, their action was not to kill but to abduct but he was still certain he had heard Saeran speaking about a man. 

There was something he was missing, a vital part that he could not see, no matter how much he pondered the question.

Deciding that he had best get this present task over and done with, Bryan climbed out of the car and headed towards the Harding home.  As he made his way up the sidewalk to the front steps of the house, he noted with encouragement that the lights were on.  The lady was home. The question remained if Aaron Stone was with her.

***********

“Someone is here,” Haldir stated suddenly.

“What?” Eve turned sharply towards the elf while Legolas had already crossed the floor towards the nearby window, trying to see for certain who the new arrival was.  He too had sensed the presence of the stranger that was now ascending the front steps of the house.

“He is right,” Legolas nodded, pulling back from the window.  “It is a man, though I cannot see his face through the darkness.”

“We can’t turn off the lights and pretend no one’s home,” Aaron retorted rising to his feet. “Tory’s out of it, she’s not going to be answering the door.”

“We can’t let them see you,” Eve added anxiously, suddenly fearful of Aaron’s life. 

Aaron thought quickly, hating the fact that he had to be protected especially when they had far more important things to be concerned about at the moment.  However, Eve was right, he could not be see. It would only complicate the situation further.  There was only one solution and he hoped it would work.

“Everyone except Eve, hide,” Aaron ordered quickly.

“Hide?” Eve stared at him perplexed as the first knock on the door was heard.

“Yeah,” Aaron nodded. “No one knows you and you look normal enough not to raise suspicions. Just answer the door and tell whomever it is that Tory’s out or something and that you’re a houseguest.”

“That’s your whole plan, former King of Gondor?” Eve hissed with doubt. 

“Its the best that I can manage at the moment,” Aaron retorted sarcastically, delivering her a dark look at the same time before adding,  "although I'll bet his wife wasn't bitching in his ear."

“I must agree with Eve, it is not much of a plan.” Haldir declared before Eve could respond.

“We will do as Aaron says,” Gandalf advised standing up from his chair and urging the elves to follow him. The wizard did not appear at all concerned despite the urgency of their situation. Aaron wanted to ask him why but supposed that it could wait until after they dealt with their unexpected visitor.

Eve watched as her companions disappear into the shadows of the house, while Tory remained on the sofa unconscious. Her attention snapped back to the corridor when she heard another knock against the door.  Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself so as to belay any the suspicion that anything was amiss when she finally confronted Tory’s unexpected guest.  Looking over her shoulder one last time to ensure that her friends were out of sight, Eve made her way forward and saw the silhouette of a man through the stain glass window on the door.

Eve ran her hands through her dark hair and opened the door slowly, producing a welcoming smile when she faced the stranger.  As the light poured out of the foyer, Eve found that she was able to take a closer look at him. He was approaching his forties, if not there already, standing rather tall, with blond hair, blue eyes and was attractive in a rugged sort of way.  Upon seeing her, his eyes widened in recognition.

“Eve McCaughley?” Bryan exclaimed, genuinely surprised to see Eve here. He supposed he should have expected the possibility of her being present but he had assumed it would be Harding who would be answering the door.

“I don’t know who you mean,” Eve replied, taken completely off guard and started shutting the door in panic.

“Wait!” Bryan braced the door with his foot before it could close. “I really need to talk to you! Detective McCaughley!”

“I’m not her!”  Eve shouted defiantly before Bryan’s strength forced the door open. 

Unable to keep him from entering, Eve retreated back up the corridor, unable to fight in such narrow confines. The stranger followed her as expected, still calling her name and expecting her to confess to him her identity.  How did he know who she was and if so, whom else had he told?  Eve had to silence him and hurried into the living room, hoping that he would follow.

Bryan went after her, determined not to let her escape when she could lead him to Aaron Stone. However, no sooner then he had entered the living room, he was confronted by a foot coming at him in a powerful forward kick.  There was barely a second to dodge it and Bryan escaped the crippling strike, stepping forward so that he was soon behind her. She turned around swiftly, coming at him again and Bryan found no alternative but to defend himself.  She was surprisingly fast but he had been trained to kill, not to defend himself, as she undoubtedly had. He caught her foot in mid air and spun it around, sending her crashing to the floor.  She hit the polished floorboards hard but recovered quickly, flipping upright and coming at him with a fist flying.

“Wait!” He tried desperately to speak and had no choice but to block the blow and lash back in kind. He had not meant to hit her hard but the force of his punch sent her crashing into the coffee table. It gave way under her weight, crumbling beneath her as she fell flat against it. 

“EVE!” Bryan heard a decided masculine voice shout in horror before a man appeared out of the shadows. It took Bryan a further second to realize the man in question was Doctor Aaron Stone.

“Damn you!” Stone shouted in anger, seeing Eve lying on the floor, still quite dazed. 

He launched himself at Bryan before the MI6 agent could respond, barreling into him with a full body tackle that sent them both slamming against a bookshelf.  The weight of both bodies rocked the shelf precariously, causing any object resting freely upon it to come crashing down around their ears. Bryan shoved Aaron away from him easily enough. The doctor may have been angry but he was no killer or for that matter, a fighter.  However, it did not keep him from throwing a punch and Brian who had quite enough of all this fighting, grabbed his fist with one hand and  Stone’s throat with the other.  Slamming the doctor against the wall, Bryan held him in place so that the man could listen to him.

“Will you please calm down, Doctor Stone. I’m not here to harm you,” Bryan said breathing hard. “You are a psychiatrist after all, you do know how to listen?”

“You got a funny way of showing it for a man who wants to talk!” Aaron hissed, his gaze shifting to Eve who was still lying amongst the debris of the coffee table.

“She started it!” Bryan declared in exasperation when he suddenly felt something on the edge of his awareness.

Turning around, he felt the side of his face flare in pain as he was hit with a vase. Glass fragments stung his face as he dropped to his knees and saw another female, one with fiery red hair and a very irate gleam in her green eyes looking down at him, as if she had just awakened from a very bad dream.  Bryan stared at her dazed and was assailed with a stench he was quick to recognize as blood. He could feel its sticky warmth running down his face and knew that it was his own.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?” Tory demanded haughtily.

Aaron hurried towards Eve who was out cold. She had knocked her head badly when she had been thrown against the table. Meanwhile, Legolas, Haldir and Gandalf had emerged from the shadows. Legolas was swift to act, arming his bow and arrow in quick stead and taking charge of their captive.  The man was still on his hands and knees, apparently reeling a little from the vase Tory had broken over his head.  Legolas and Haldir were standing over him, while Gandalf had retreated to the wing chair once more, releasing a heavy sigh as he sat down.

“Eve, honey,” Aaron help Eve to sit up, “are you hurt?”

“I’m okay,” she muttered after a moment, her face contracting into a wince of pain. “Just stop the world so I can get off.”

“Thank Christ,” Aaron declared relieved, embracing her when she sat up with his help. “I thought he had hurt you.”

“Well he did,” Eve threw the man a dark look, “he's fast.”

“Not fast enough,” Aaron replied, giving Tory a grateful look.

Bryan’s senses were starting to clear as he heard the voices around him and rose to his feet gingerly, only to find himself staring at an arrow aimed at his chest. The archer’s expression was one of stone until Brian met his gaze and then a most amazing thing happened. The blond archer’s whose age Bryan assumed was in his twenties, stared at him in nothing less than astonishment. For a moment, Bryan was tempted to ask him what was so shocking when the man’s lips curled into a smile.

“Boromir!” Legolas exclaimed in wonder. “It is Boromir!”

“What?” Bryan stared at him in confusion. “What did you say?”

“Boromir,” Legolas grinned, lowering his bow because Haldir had not.  “Aaron! This is Boromir!” The elf said excitedly and threw his arm around the confused human in a hug of happiness and friendship.

“Hey, get your hands off me!” Bryan snapped, pulling away from the elf, certain the man was insane or confusing him with someone else.

“Boromir?” Aaron pulled away from Eve for a moment at Legolas’ revelation. “You mean the Boromir of the Fellowship?” He asked the elf in elvish.

“The same,” Legolas said still smiling broadly at Bryan. “It is him. Just like I knew you were Aragorn. He is Boromir, son of Denethor, the Steward of Gondor.”

“Well that’s nice to know,” Aaron shook his head, never quite becoming accustomed to this whole aspect of reincarnation,  “it explains the hugging.”

Bryan had thought he had heard most languages and while he could not speak it, he certainly recognized it. What Stone was speaking was something he was completely unfamiliar with. It sounded like a mixture of Norwegian and Italian but was distinctly its own and oddly familiar. With the exception of the two women, everyone was staring at him and it made Bryan decidedly uncomfortable.

“What are you saying?” Bryan demanded. “Who does he think I am?”

“A fallen warrior of Gondor,” Gandalf said helpfully.

“A fallen what?” Bryan retorted.

“So this is the Boromir that got skewered by arrows?” Aaron looked at Legolas for answer, ignoring Bryan’s question.

“He died valiantly trying to protect our friends,” Legolas frowned, hating the sacrifice of Boromir to be put so cavalierly. 

Boromir’s actions with Frodo could not be helped. As  a warrior of Gondor, he would have experienced Sauron’s invasion upon the lands of his people as not merely a threat but rather a reality. It was understandable that of all of the Fellowship, it was Boromir who succumbed to the lure of the One Ring first. Mordor had assailed his people for many years, it was only natural that Boromir would want to use any means to end the danger to his people once and for all. Whatever disgrace he had endured by his attempt to steal the ring, he had more than made up for by defending Merry and Pippin to his death.

No one forgot that, not Legolas, not Gandalf and certainly not Aragorn who had mourned his death greatly.

“That was a hundred thousand years ago,” Aaron pointed out, having no memories of any of this.  “Who knows what he could be at this point?”

Eve who had regained consciousness to a better degree, stood up shakily now that she had recovered, responded coolly, “well let’s find out.”

Eve strode towards Bryan, earning a cautionary warning from Aaron about getting too close.  Without asking permission and conscious that her captive was aware that should he make a false move, Haldir was going to put an arrow through his chest, Eve proceeded to frisk him.  It did not take long before she discovered that he was armed and reached into his coat to produce the gun.

“What’s this?” Eve asked taking a closer look at the weapon.

“Home protection,” Bryan said sourly.

"If you had a gun why didn't use it?" Eve looked at him puzzled.

"Because I didn't need to," Bryan said confidently. "It was not as if you were offering much sport."

"And yet you got brained by a woman with a vase," Eve returned sarcastically before examining the gun like an expert. “This is a 9mm Walther PPK. Are you with British intelligence?”

“How would you know that?” Aaron stared at her, never being able to tell the difference they way that she could. Actually in truth, his knowledge of guns did not extend beyond being able to shoot them and that was not a talent he was particularly proud of.

“Standard weapon for British agents, specifically MI6,” Eve replied as a matter of factly, admiring the weapon as she handled it.

“You know your guns Detective McCaughley,” Bryan retorted, impressed at her acumen though not the situation he was in.

“So what does British Intelligence want with me?” Tory interjected for the first time. Since she had awakened to the melee, taking place in her living room, she had been running on confused but decided to answer the most immediate questions first.

“I was trying to find Doctor Stone here,” Bryan replied. “I’m in  a bit of a situation and I needed his help.”

“My help?” Aaron stared him in confusion. “I thought everyone was after my ass for blowing up the damn Malcolm Building?”

“Did you blow it up?” Bryan asked and Aaron saw that the question was very important to the man, as if his opinion of Aaron would hinge greatly upon the answer.

“No I didn’t,” Aaron retorted firmly, meeting his eyes. “I did not destroy the Malcolm Building.”

“Do you know who did?” Bryan asked instead.

“Aaron don’t say a word,” Tory interjected before he could speak. She pushed her way between the two men. “I’m Aaron’s barrister and before he tells you anything, I want to guarantee his safety from prosecution.”

“Oh bloody marvelous, a barrister,” Bryan snorted at her with clear derision. “This isn’t the dock luv. Can’t you go find an ambulance to chase? I’ve been waiting to talk to the doctor for quite some time now.”

“Listen you Neanderthal,” Tory glared at him, disliking anyone calling her love. “I am his counsel and I will not allow you to endanger his rights!”

“I think he’s old enough to look after himself without your help,” Bryan retorted. “Besides if he does get charged with blowing up the Malcolm Building, he will need someone a little more qualified than you!”

“Why you arrogant....”  Tory stared to growl when Aaron interrupted.

“Okay, I think we’re getting a little off the point here,” Aaron stared at both of them sternly.

“Aaron you cannot tell him anything,” Tory protested firmly. “Whatever you say can be used against you in court. We have very different anti-terrorism laws than you do in the States. He could use anything you tell him and if I am not mistaken, what you’re being suspected of is a capital crime and England has extradition treaties with America!”

“I am not charging him with anything!” Bryan snapped in anger. “I'm not here in any official capacity. I am MI6, which means I'll be in trouble just talking to him instead of turning him over to Scotland Yard. I just want to know why the Malcolm Building was destroyed because it certainly was not because of any terrorist bomb! What leveled that building was not caused by an explosive!”

“Aaron, I think you should answer him,” Gandalf replied, sensing the need within this man for answers. Galadriel’s vision had revealed the Son of Gondor playing some part in this affair and Boromir’s presence here, or at least, his twenty-first century incarnation, was according to Iluvutar's design.  It was why Gandalf had not worried when they first discovered a visitor at Tory’s door.

It did not require Gandalf’s clairvoyance for Aaron to agree with him. He could see something in this man’s eyes, something that needed desperately to know the truth.  With a flash of insight, Aaron knew not came from where, Aaron felt a strange bond with this man, almost as potent as the one he had felt when he and Legolas had first met.  This man was searching for answers and Aaron who had found himself plunging into an unbelievable world not too long ago, could empathize with his confusion. 

“Its alright Tory,” Aaron said finally, stepping forward.

“Aaron, this is not a good idea,” Tory reiterated her protest.

“Its okay Tory,” Eve placed a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder, “I think he knows what he is doing.”

“You sure you want to know the truth?” Aaron looked at Bryan.

“I’m not standing here because I believe what I read in reports,” Bryan returned.

“Alright,” Aaron nodded, deciding that he would hold nothing back. “John Malcolm was an ancient demon resurrected in the body of a human being. He was first destroyed by ancient gods who came back to finish the job when they learnt he was loose in the modern world.”

Bryan drew a deep breath and stared at their faces. They expected him to protest, to call them crazy but somehow, he did not feel as if Stone had lied to him, far from it as a matter of fact. After he had seen the creatures with eyes of red, which had no shape or form, he had been willing to believe quite a bit. The building had not been destroyed with explosives but rather by a force no forensic expert had been able to determine. The interviews of witnesses were disjointed. Hundreds of people had been in the area and none had been able to explain how, only that it was destroyed. They saw no flames, no initial explosion, just the complete collapse of the Monolith and all they could remember in the wake of it, was the sensation of a strange harmony that left investigators baffled.

“Did he have any invisible friends with red eyes?” Bryan asked after a second.

Gandalf rose to his feet and strode over to Bryan and demanded in low voice, “why do you ask?”

“Because I’ve seen them.”

************** 

“Where are we going?” Aaron demanded as he followed the British agent named Bryan Miller out of Tory’s house to the man’s car, with Eve and Legolas standing by to intervene if Bryan’s urgent errand turned out to be a ruse to get away from his captors.

“To my car,” Bryan retorted unhappy at being shadowed.

He could have gotten away he supposed but he needed answers and had no choice but to endure their suspicion until he had retrieved Fred from the car. He was not about to leave her in the car indefinitely while he played twenty questions with them. As it was, he still had difficulty dealing with everything that the old man named Gandalf had told him, even though a good deal of it made sense.  A very strange kind of sense that involved, elves, demons and reincarnation. It was the business about reincarnation that was the hardest for him to deal with.

Yet John Malcolm being some kind of demon was not difficult at all to accept. It was not because Bryan had seen the creatures that had murdered Fred’s parents and knew without doubt they were not human. He had seen their eyes glow after putting enough bullets into them to stop a small army and still they had stood up unscathed by the deadly barrage. Gandalf had called them Nazgul and for no other reason than the fact that it sounded sinister, the word had sent a cold shiver through his spine as if on some spiritual level he could not understand, he knew what they were.  If those things could exist, then there was every reason to believe that John Malcolm may have been some dark lord from an ancient past.

“What’s at your car?” Eve asked automatically, feeling extremely wary around the new arrival especially when he had taken her so easily in hand to hand combat and because Gandalf had asked her to return Bryan his weapon out of some belief that this man whom they had just met could be trusted.

“The reason why I’m running,” Bryan said shortly not wishing to elaborate because that would lead to more questions.

“You’re running?” Aaron looked at him. “Why?”

“Because I saw those Nazgul and what they did,” Bryan snapped abruptly.

“He has not changed very much,”  Legolas remarked with a smile. “He bears the same charm.”

“That you were a bastard back then too,” Eve said shortly.

“Wonderful girl,” Bryan stared at Aaron, “you must tell me where she went to finishing school.”

“Do I have to separate you two?” Aaron looked at both of them critically.

“Very funny,” Eve remarked staring at Aaron through narrowed eyes as they came to a stop next to a car in a particularly darkened corner.

Bryan did not respond because he was more concerned with collecting Fred who was waiting in the car for him. Opening the door, he saw that she had fallen asleep in the back seat of the car and smiled with relief to see she was still there. He supposed that the past few day had been quite an ordeal for a six-year-old and that it was only a matter of time before it all caught up with her.  Gathering her in his arms, Fred stirred long enough to note his return before wrapping her small arms around her neck and allowing him to carry her out of the car.

“Who is that?” Eve asked, finally understanding why Bryan was so insistent in returning to his car.  The child buried himself in the crook of the man’s shoulder, quite content to remain there in her slumber.

“This is Fred,” Bryan explained with tenderness in his eyes as he looked down at the sleeping child. “Those Nazgul or whatever you call them, murdered her parents in front of her. If I hadn’t been there, God only knows what they would have done to her. Those things, they want her, I don’t know why but if I have to believe whatever you say to help her, then so be it. I promised I’d keep her safe and I will.”

Legolas was staring at the little girl. There was something in her face that appeared very familiar but not in the same way he had recognized Boromir immediately. His instincts told him that  he knew this child  but he could not place how.  She seemed so helpless and fragile. Why would the Nazgul want her? What possible reason could they have to harm this child?

"Why would they want a child?" Legolas heard Aaron mirroring his unspoken thoughts.

"I don't know," Bryan shrugged in answer as they headed back towards the house. "When I put David Saeran under surveillance and heard the conversation he had with those Nazgul, I was sure that he was talking about kidnapping a man but when I arrived there, Fred's parents were already dead."

"Well I don't think as a rule Nazgul go hunting for anyone unless there is a very good reason for it," Aaron replied.

"I think it’s a good idea if we don't talk about this in the open," Eve's gaze swept across the darkened street and though everything looked safe enough, she knew that even her senses could not be relied upon entirely when there was a dark lord at work.

"Good idea," Bryan agreed with that wholeheartedly, eager to get Fred in doors. "I've been shot at more times than I would like in the past 24 hours, it would be nice to be able to take a breather."

"You have at least learnt to avoid them," Legolas surprised them all by suddenly speaking.

"You can speak English?" Bryan stared at the elf whose accent was a little odd but was understandable.

"It's his Spanish that's bad," Aaron grinned, glad that Legolas was going to make an attempt to speak the language, since Aaron had spent better part of a year teaching him. Legolas, like all elves when it came to language, learnt quickly. Besides, Aaron had a suspicion that Legolas was exceedingly happy to see another member of the Fellowship returned to them, even if he was in the form of a reincarnated MI6 agent and thus was willing to make the effort to speak to him directly.

"I have been contented with listening until now," Legolas said gingerly. "It is good to see you."

"We haven't met before," Bryan pointed out, aware that the elves (he couldn't believe he was using that word and worse yet believing it), thought him to be a reincarnation of someone called Boromir.

"You were Boromir of Gondor," Legolas said without doubt. "We were comrades during the quest."

"If you say so," Bryan replied sceptically. He could believe a great deal after seeing the Nazgul but accepting that he had lived a hundred thousand years ago as the warrior of an ancient land that no longer existed, well that was too much beyond his comprehension.

But then he was having a conversation with an elf.

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

Tory's head throbbed as if she had been out all night drinking.

Despite having gained enough coherence to rescue Aaron from an intruder, as well as entering a bout of verbal fencing with Bryan Miller, whom Tory had come to the conclusion was the arrogant ass on the planet, she still felt rather dazed from Gandalf  opening her mind to the truth of their origins.  It was disconcerting to know that there was now a wealth of information in her mind that was accessible whenever she required it.  She looked at the elf Haldir, who was apparently sitting in front of her television set, channel surfing so rapidly that she could not even begin to look at the screen because the flashes were too reminiscent of what Gandalf had done to her, and knew without doubt that he was an elf. 

Tory rested in her chair, raising her cup to her lips and taking a sip of soothing camomile teeth as her throbbing head and her slightly nauseous stomach settled themselves in the wake of her ordeal.  No, ordeal was the wrong word because it had not been torturous or frightening. It had been a revelation. A revelation of what Aaron had seen, that made everything he told her had fallen into place and shook the foundations of everything, she thought she knew about the world.  After seeing too much in her relatively young life, it was actually a nice surprise to realise that you didn't know everything and could be taken off guard.

"Are you feeling better?" Gandalf's comforting voice asked her.  He reminded her of the grandfather she had lost many years ago, whom by voice alone could convince her that nothing was so bad that he could not take it away with a nice cup of tea and a long talk.

"A little," she offered him a glance with a slight nod before she took a deeper sip of her tea.

"I would have preferred not to open your mind in the manner which I did but we are sadly lacking in time," Gandalf explained.

"Is this an apology?" She met his gaze.

"If you would prefer one, I could make it so," he answered.

"That is unnecessary," Tory said with a smile. "You probably saved a considerable amount of time. Did you do that to Aaron and Eve?"

"No," Gandalf shook his head. "Aaron made his own discoveries and saved me in ways I cannot even begin to describe. I owe him a great deal as does the rest of the world, though they do not know it."

"That's sound like quite a story," Tory replied, wanting to know more but thinking she could not endure any more information tonight.

"I will tell it to you when this is all over," Gandalf answered. "However, I do not lie when I say that you are needed. It is a dark road that we face and we will need all the assistance that is available. The evil that we sensed in Valinor was slight there but now that we crossed the sea and arrived at this land, it has grown in potency. I fear our time is short."

Hearing him talk of evil as if it was something real and tangible sent a cold shiver through her spine. For Tory, evil was a lack of empathy.  A lack of empathy that kept a man from being shackled by rules of morality or impropriety. It was the inability to feel compassion for another living thing that allowed men to murder, rape, pillage, commit wholesale genocide in the name of religion of ideology, it was an utter disregard for anyone else. That to Tory was true evil but Gandalf spoke of it as something that had form, that had a voice and could direct men as pawns. That frightened her beyond belief.

"I don't know how I can help you," Tory confessed. "I'm just a barrister. The law is all that I know."

"Sometimes the desire to do good is all that one needs to change the world," he said knowingly. "Yours in a heart burning with that desire, despite the ugliness of your work."

"You sense all of that from me?" She looked at him sceptically.

"I have been known to be quite insightful from time to time," Gandalf smiled with mischief. "But I am seldom wrong."

Gandalf rose to his feet to meet them, "come Tory, I would like to introduce you to someone."

Tory looked at him quizzically but set aside her cup to follow him as he walked towards the corridor leading from the door.

Gandalf's attention was fixed firmly on Bryan who surprisingly enough had the most adorable, elfin looking child in his arms when he entered her home. The girl was fast asleep and appeared perfectly content to be in the MI6 agent's arms as she slumbered.

"Hello old friend," Gandalf said with deep affection as he brushed a strand of dark hair out of the little girl's face. "Tory, I would like to introduce you to the Ringbearer."

Part Six
An Accounting of Events

The world had changed and in the opinion of Major Andrei Nikolaevich, not for the better.

If he were a young man who was new to the service of his country, it would not have stung so badly the state of the world as he knew it. He would not have known that in times more recent than deep in the past, being a soldier in the service of Mother Russia was something to be proud of. Now, the homeland was contaminated with liberal politicians, too much capitalism and a fierce desire to embrace all the excesses of western civilisation. It had taken less than fifteen years for the pride and dignity of the Russian people to succumb to the joys of Pepsi Cola and Microsoft products. No one remembered anymore what it was like to be a true Russian because they were too interested in tuning to MTV and episodes of Dynasty.

He remembered the days when Russian was not the embarrassment called the Russian Federation but rather the Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic. Communism may not have wholly ideal but it had made them great and what they did not have was counterbalanced with what they did, which was the knowledge that they were something to be feared and respected. Under the communist regime, Russia had moved from the wooden yoke to the atomic bomb in a span of twenty years. They had fought all their enemies and still managed to be the first to put a man into the space. The Americans may claim the moon but it was the Soviets that gave them the desire to reach for it.

In those days, the boundaries of the Soviet Union stretched almost from one sea to another. The iron curtain for all its depictions by the West had kept the peace for fifty years even if the Cold War was merely a tool for each superpower to justify their defence budget to their respective governments. Now, the boundaries were less than 300 kilometres away. Kazakhstan was now a nation of its own trading Soviet weapons to races who had no business having them, proudly selling Soviet ingenuity into the hands of child races who behaved angrily when provoked, who would have no compunction against using weapons of mass destruction to make their point.

As he took a walk across the military encampment outside of Aleysk, a sizeable town on the fringes of Siberia and the Altay Region, Andrei pulled his coat around his shoulders and leaned into its warmth. He let his gaze sweep across the sky and knew that a storm was coming. Whether or not it would become a blizzard, was not as easy to say. The weather in this part of the world was unpredictable, with the only assurance being that when it came, it was usually cold. Tall conifer trees that stretched for as the eye could see and in the distance, the mountains grazed the sky with its jagged peaks surrounding the facility at Aleysk.

He had been stationed here for almost three years now, having been moved to this remote location because as one of the veterans left over from the previous regime, his hardline status was politically inconvenient. They called him a relic and shipped him here from his native Moscow to languish with the other relics of the Cold War and the former Soviet state. The Aleysk base was home to thirty Class 204 SS-18s intercontinental ballistic missiles. Though it was likely that they would never be used, the danger of international terrorism have brought forth the directive that such bases would be protected. With so many former territories that were now foreign powers in their own right near their borders, it was a sensible precaution.

The temperature was -1 degree this morning and though it was very cold, it was nowhere as cold as a Siberian winter could be. Andrei did not mind the cold as much as he minded being away from Moscow and his family but he did not wish his wife to languish in this icy landscape with him and her bid her to remain at the capital with his two children. As he walked back to this office, he felt the cold air invigorate him somewhat and give him a little more bounce in his step. At forty-five years of age, he needed all the bounce he could get and made good speed as he walked briskly to the main building.

Upon arriving at his office, he was greeted by young soldiers who were of the opinion that their posting here was a great honor. Andrei guessed it could be supposed that way since they were not sent here in disgrace and he was. Accepting their salutes, Andrei listened to their reports with half hearted interest before telling them that he would see them all later in the day under the guise that he had important paperwork to do in his office. In truth, he just could not stomach their enthusiasm and his important paperwork was a half empty bottle of Vodka in the last drawer of his filing cabinet. He was after all Russian.

Upon entering the small office that was his private sanctum, he noted that the mail had arrived and perched on top of the official communiqués and other letters in important looking envelopes, was a box wrapped in plain brown paper. It was not very big but had the stamp of a military courier, which meant that it was most likely from his wife. Lowering himself into his chair, he ignored all the other envelopes and preceded to tear the wrapping off the small parcel, hoping that it was the biscuits she made. He could imagine her standing at the kitchen, wonderful aromas wafting through the room but none so enticing as the smell of her perfume.

He missed her very much at that moment.

Inside the box was a cake tin, which pleased him a great deal and prompted him to pull open the lid almost immediately. However nestled in between the biscuits sprinkled with cinnamon and made with almond was another surprise. Andrei raised a brow as he retrieved the small velvet box and opened it. Resting comfortably in the satin groove was a ring. It was undoubtedly a man's ring with intricate patterns running across its smooth surface. It could be gold he supposed but doubted that his wife could afford it if it was.

There was an accompanying note, which Andrei unfolded and read as he palmed the trinket in his hand.

To Andrei,

I bought this for you at an antique sale. It is to remind you that I love you even though we are apart.

Love Elena.

Andrei Nikolaevich smiled and placed the new ring on his finger, reminding himself that he would have to return the pleasure when he saw his beloved Elena next, completely unaware that he was the final seal of an unholy triumvirate.

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

"You can put her in here," Tory whispered to Bryan as she led him to her guest bedroom.

It was a room bathed in warm colors that took on amber glow in the dim light emanating from the side table next to the bed. The bedroom furniture was mostly oak and judging by the style, family heirlooms. A thick heavy quilt with a cheerful floral motive covered the sheets and Bryan could not deny that it was a far more suitable place for Fred then the seedy hotel room that they had left behind. He pulled back the covers and placed the little girl, who had not stirred from her slumber, onto the sheets gently. Tucking Fred in despite her obliviousness to his ministrations, Bryan wondered where this emotion of tenderness had come from inside him.

His world was hard and bloody. He had killed and been almost killed more times than he could count, even before the events of the past two days. There had been no need in him for anyone else, no desire for long-term relationships with women or with men. His most emotionally invested relationship was with his brother and he knew that had come from being called to protect Frank for most of his life. Their father had died early on and their mother struggled to support them both.

Bryan had joined the army instead of going to university, preferring the military to pay for his education. Taking the burden of their mother, he had paid Frank’s way through school. When he joined the SAS and his career in MI6 made it difficult to be there, Frank had understood and moved on with his life, aware that his brother would be absent for a great deal of it. He even understood when Bryan was absent for their mother's funeral and his wedding.

Now here was Fred, whom had been in his life for no more than two days and yet knew without doubt, he would die to protect her and keep her safe. Bryan wished he knew what was happening to him because since the child had entered his life, he was constantly surprising himself. It was very disconcerting.

"Turn off the lights," Bryan told, Tory somewhat meekly as they were preparing to leave the room. "She doesn’t like to sleep with it on."

Tory raised a brow at that, not because of Fred’s unusual sleeping habits but rather the fact that Bryan knew enough about the child to be aware of it. She did not seem him as the domesticated type, in fact after their previous words together, was somewhat surprised that he was even housebroken. She could tell straight away that he was not married and would be extremely surprised if she was wrong about that assertion. He was one of these men who were probably a workaholic with all his energy devoted to the job. She knew the type because she was not that different from him.

"Do you have any children?" Tory asked after she had closed the door behind them now that they were out of the room, heading towards the staircase. She doubted that he had any but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"No," Bryan answered tautly, feeling a little uncomfortable at having his tenderness for Fred privy to observation and worse yet, discussion.

"You’re very good with her," Tory commented, with no insult intended though she was rather amused by the fact that he was so unsettled about having to answer questions regarding his sentimental side. "You look like you would probably make a very good dad."

"Right," Bryan stiffened, unable to endure this conversation any further. He was suddenly feeling very off balance and he did not like how that felt one bit. "Let’s keep from going any further. I’m just keeping her safe. As soon as we sort things out, she goes to her family, I’m sure she must have them."

He capped that statement with a hasty retreat down the stairs, so that he could join the others as well as escape her questions.

"Oh come on," Tory said following him closely, enjoying this immensely. Instinct told her that it was not often that this man was taken off guard and the lawyer in her loved it too much to let it pass without comment. Besides, how many witnesses had she left squirming in the wake of a demanding cross-examination? And that was nowhere as fun as this.

"Its not so terrible having a tender side is it?" She asked seriously, "I mean its sweet quite really."

Bryan turned around and gave Tory a long, searching look as if he were sizing her up all over again and it was delivered with a hardened stare that made her flinch involuntarily. For a few seconds he did not say anything and then the corner of his lips curled upwards ever so slightly though he never let it turn into a smile.

"Have you quite sufficiently amused yourself?" He said after a moment, a gleam in his eyes she could not quite fathom. If she did not know better, Tory would almost swear that it was smug.

"Oh yes, quite well" she replied with equal satisfaction, since she was not about to intimidated by his powerful gaze.

"Then shall we join the others? I would like to hear the rest of this fairy tale I've stumbled into before the night is out. Ladies first," Bryan stepped aside in an effort to be gallant.

"Now you have manners?" She gave him a look as she descended the steps ahead of him. "I seem to recall that you were severely lacking in it when you broke into my house."

"I did not break in," Bryan said smoothly, unperturbed by her efforts to annoy him. If she kept that up, he was going to start liking her. "I rang the door bell, it was Eve who suddenly became one of Charlie’s Angels."

"Hey that’s my girl you’re talking about," Aaron who passing by the foot of the staircase as the two descended, remarked.

"Well she does know how to take care of herself," Bryan commented, not intending to insult the very capable if somewhat acerbic Eve McCaughley and Robert had been right, she was a looker. Of this eclectic bunch of people he had encountered since entering this house, Eve was probably the one person Bryan could relate most with. Like him, she was a dealt with the seamier side of life and despite their brief acquaintance and confrontational first meeting; Bryan had come to respect her a great deal.

"Kept me out of trouble more time than I can count," Aaron agreed proudly. "I’m sure I’m going to have masculinity issues."

"You had that before you met Eve," Tory quipped.

"Oh thank you," Aaron glared at her with mock dislike, "remind me again why Stuart left you?"

"It was my singular wit," she flashed the psychiatrist a smile.

"Yeah," Aaron’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he exchanged a brief glance with Bryan who offered him an expression of complete sympathy, "that’s one way to put it."

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

Even though it was well past midnight, no one felt like sleeping because there was too much to discuss. Each had differing pieces of the same puzzle and they had to work together to learn the source of the darkness that was quickly casting its shadow upon the world. While Gandalf and Bryan had exchanged some information, it was clear that a detailed account of events had to be made so that they could understand better what it was they faced. While the Istar suspected a good deal of what Bryan already knew, he wished to hear the man make a full explanation not only for himself, but for the benefit of all who would be embarking upon this perilous quest with them.

"Okay," Aaron sat up straight in the sofa next to Eve after the pizza Tory had ordered to feed her unexpected guests had been consumed in the living room. "Gandalf you want to tell us how you knew that was the Ringbearer up there?"

"Sorry," Aaron apologized, aware of how protective Bryan felt about the little girl.

Gandalf sat up in his wing chair, grateful that Tory had waived her no smoking rule in her house for his sake, as he enjoyed his pipe. "When I saw Bryan, it made sense to me at last, the meaning of Galadriel’s poem."

"Galadriel’s poem?" Bryan asked, having no idea that the old man was talking about but supposed he would get briefed in due course. For now, he was interested in the answer.

"Yes," Gandalf nodded. "Prior to leaving Valinor, Galadriel, one of our wisest saw a vision that indicated that this world was in serious peril and that the time was drawing near when all the lands will breathed in flame."

"She had a vision of a nuclear war," Aaron explained, seeing Bryan and Tory about to speak. Bryan in particular seemed to be very troubled by this terrible portent of doom. "She let me see the vision and what I saw was the works, fallout, radiation sickness, the nuclear winter. Our worse nightmare."

"It was a nuclear war?" Bryan sat up straighter. "Are you certain?"

"I’ve seen movies," Aaron returned. "If that was not what it looks like then it was pretty damn good representation. They have no idea what atomic bomb is in Valinor, Bryan. They can’t even conceive something as dangerous as a warhead being built."

"Welcome to the human race," Eve frowned.

"The vision also revealed a riddle," Gandalf took up the reigns of explanation once more. "Most of it dealt with the evil rising in this realm, sire and child perpetuating each other but there was one part of it that meant little to me until I saw you.

The one who made it, the one unmade it and the one was unmade by it

The circle of gold binds them together,

He who failed in one life must redeem himself in another

To save the world and give peace at last to the Son of Gondor

Gandalf recited the final lines of the riddle until now, had only been known to himself and Aaron. No one else had heard it in its entirety until this moment. Bryan did not understand but expected Gandalf would explain if the expression of understanding that filled the eyes of Legolas and Haldir was anything to go by.

"You were the Son of Gondor," Gandalf stared at Bryan. "It was you who was unmade by it, it being the One Ring."

"And if the one who made it was Sauron..." Haldir stared to stay.

"Then the one who unmade it must be Frodo," Legolas finished.

"What do you mean unmade?" Bryan stiffened, feeling something in the very core of him that was deeply affected by this revelation. "How was I, I mean how was this Boromir unmade by it?" he demanded.

Legolas and Gandalf exchanged reluctant glances, uncertain how they were going to tell this man that in another life, he had been willing to betray an oath of protection to a comrade because the lure of the One Ring had been too much for him.

"The ring was the most powerful weapon in existence at the time," Aaron spoke before either of the immortals could, "Boromir was a warrior of Gondor and for God only knows how long, he had been defending his people against Sauron who was hell bent and destroying everything. The ring uses a person’s desire even if the intention is good to corrupt and Boromir really wanted to help his people. During the quest to destroy the thing, the ring overcame him and for awhile, he lost control."

"How?" Bryan sensed that Aaron was trying to spare him some unpleasantness but Bryan needed to know, something inside of him compelled him to learn the truth.

"He tried to take the ring from Frodo," Aaron said quietly. "It overcame his mind for a brief time."

"But that was enough for Boromir to try and kill the ringbearer wasn’t it?" Bryan guessed accurately the truth.

"Yes," Legolas nodded. "Boromir was lost to us but briefly but he did not harm the ring bearer and he defended his friends with his life. We all felt its power drawing us, whispering its lies in our minds but no one more than he had a greater need for it. Boromir wanted to save his people and he did. He died with honor and we mourned him because he was one of us, one of the Fellowship. Even the ringbearer when his quest was done, did not blame Boromir of Gondor for what he had done, because Frodo knew all too well of what the ring was capable."

Bryan rose to his feet, wanting to balk at how impossible this all was. This was a fairy tale! Just like he had told Tory, none of it could be true! Yet, even as he denied it, deep inside himself in that place where not even he dared to look, he knew that there was kernel of truth to it. All his life, he had been driven to finish anything he set his mind too. When he swore to his mother that he would protect Frank, it had been more than just a son’s promise to his mother, it was an oath and everything else in his life was met with the same dedication. Was it all because in a previous life he had failed? Is this where this desire to protect Fred at all costs had come from, because once before he had failed to do so?

"I cannot accept this," he wanted to walk upstairs and take Fred with him but even if he did, he knew that he would still be enslaved to some ancient programming left in his mind from another age.

"Bryan," Aaron spoke up, the psychiatrist in him emerging in full force. "You’re not Boromir. That man is dead, a hundred thousand years in the past. You are who you are right now at this moment in time. Okay, you have his soul but you have the power to shape that soul, it doesn’t shape you."

"How would you know?" Bryan hissed. "How the bloody hell would you know anything?"

"Because I do!" Aaron snapped. "Because who I was once before arrived to late to save Boromir, you stubborn bastard. Who I was in the past did not save Boromir and that dogged Aragorn all his life. I look at you now and I know I’m not letting you go half-cocked to do something stupid. I have this impression that in the past, I didn’t try hard enough and it ended badly for both of us. So you will sit down and accept it because we are on the brink of Armageddon and I don’t have time this for this shit! We need you! We need your expertise!"

The room was deathly silent for a lengthy pause as both men glared at each other, with everyone else strangely silent.

It was Bryan who finally broke the silence, "if you wake Fred up with your shouting, my expertise will break your neck."

"Well," Aaron straightened up and saw Bryan deliver that remark with a faint smile, "as long as we got that clear," he said taking a cautionary step backward from the man.

"Were they like this back then too?" Eve whispered in Legolas’ ear.

The elf rolled his eyes in weary resignation; "you cannot even begin to imagine."

"Alright," Eve broke in, "now that this macho bullshit is past us, can we get on with it?"

"Nicely put Eve," Gandalf gave her a look as Aaron and Bryan settled down in their respective corners.

"Okay," Bryan sighed loudly. "So my past life aside, I am going to venture a guess that David Saeran is this Sauron you keep talking about."

"There is some logic to it," Legolas replied, "If Morgoth was returned to this world, he would done the same for his minions in this realm to aid him in his efforts. Sauron was chief among his agents."

"The question is how many has he brought with him?" Haldir addressed those who could speak elvish and was pleased to see Gandalf offering a swift translation to those who could not.

"Well we know that the Nine are here," Gandalf remarked. "Bryan has seen them."

"What is this Nine you keep talking about?" Tory asked.

"They are evil agents of Sauron," Legolas explained. "They are neither living or dead. They exist in shadow."

"And that means?" Tory looked about her.

"Their invisible and they can’t be killed," Eve interjected helpfully.

"But if he intends to take over the world in a nuclear war, he can’t just be relying on the Nine," Aaron replied. "Legolas, you told me that during the War of Ring, he had armies."

"He still does," Bryan interrupted, being able to shed some light on this point. "For the last 18 months I’ve been tracking a terrorist group called Black Serpent, now all evidence that I’ve gathered and I grant you, I haven’t gathered very much, indicates that Black Serpent is connected to Malcolm Industries."

"Of course it is," Legolas said confidently. "During the war, one of Sauron’s allies fought under the banner of the Black Serpent."

"Yes," Gandalf nodded, "I remember."

"So he’s using this group to create chaos all over the globe?" Tory asked, somewhat overwhelmed by what she was hearing.

"It would be consistent with how he sought to divide Middle earth during the War of the Ring," Legolas replied.

"First he sets off all these brush fires across the world," Bryan stood up and began to pace. "The Middle East is a mess. The Gulf looks like its ready to flare up at any moment. Terrorist attacks are on the rise across America, Europe and Australia. If it’s not about religion, it’s about territory. Everyone is tearing at each other, trying to stop the violence by perpetuating it. It’s a bloody cycle."

"But it is not Sauron’s ways to simply allow man to destroy themselves," Haldir pointed out. "He will move his armies in this chaos."

"His softening us up," Eve declared. "That’s what this is. He’s softening us up so that when he finally decides to make his move, it’s going to decisive and final."

"Malcolm Industries is big," Tory declared. "Its annual report last year recorded profits in the billions and this was after the building in New York was blown sky high. With that kind of money and resources, he could fund an army."

"But is it an army that’s going to follow him if he decides to send the world into a nuclear winter?" Aaron countered, "Even mercenaries love their own skin."

"So where does Fred fit into all this?" Bryan found himself asking.

"Oh that is easily answered," Gandalf replied glancing towards the ceiling as if he were able to see through the mortar at the child sleeping in her room. "Because of the One Ring, Sauron and Frodo will always be connected, even in this incarnation. I suspect the moment she was born, he knew of her existence though it may have taken time to find her. Now that his plans are so close to fruition, he dare not risk that she will be the catalyst that brings about his downfall. He underestimated Frodo Baggins before and it cost him dearly, I believe that he wants Fred in his possession for no other reason than to ensure that this time, she will have no opportunity to meddle in his affairs."

"But she’s a child," Tory exclaimed in horror. "What possible threat could she be to him?"

"Frodo was a hobbit," Legolas remarked, "the shire folk were the little people, absolutely inconsequential by Sauron’s reckoning and yet it took one hobbit to bring him to utter ruin. He will not take that chance again."

"And yet by moving against her, he has brought us together so that we can defeat him," Gandalf added. "I think there is a certain poetic irony about it."

"What does this Saeran look like?" Aaron asked out of curiosity.

"Hang on, I think I’ve got a recent magazine he was on," Tory said rifling through the magazine holder next to the chair and tossed the copy of Time in the middle of the coffee table so that they could see the face of the enemy.

"Hey," Eve noted as she admired the smiling face of David Saeran on the glossy page, "cute."

"Isn’t he?" Tory sighed wistfully, "isn’t that just the way though? He’s young, scandalously handsome, wealthy beyond belief, unmarried, not to mention terribly charismatic and he turns out to be a dark lord who wants to rule the world. Men like this is why I no longer date."

*******

Deep in her slumber, she could see them.

Dark shapes moving through the night, twin orbs of light illuminating their way as they moved through the quiet streets, drawing closer with each second. They were drawn to more than just her now, Fred did not understand but she knew without doubt that she was no longer safe. She remembered in some distant past when the rumble of a car’s engine was preceded by the sounds of horses in relentless pursuit. She had felt the chill of them against the skin, felt their darkness contaminating her spirit, when their poison pierced her body. She had been someone else then; someone whose life had been changed forever by the glitter of a gold and an eye breathed in flame.

They had branded her soul, marked her for all time so that no matter what skin she was born into, they would always know her by sight and be drawn to her. She did not know why the anonymity with Bryan had been destroyed but she knew without doubt they were coming.

**********

Fred’s scream tore through their chatter like a siren’s scream.

Bryan was out of his chair and crossing the floor towards the stairs with speed that impressed even the elves. Following close behind was Aaron as he hurried upstairs, taking two steps at a time. There was utter terror in that scream and for an insane moment, Bryan thought that the enemy had found them despite the fact that no one had known he was coming here to Tory Harding’s home. She was still screaming his name when he reached the door to the guestroom he had left her and pushed open the door to find her sitting up in her bed, tears streaking her face.

"Bryan!" She cried out, arms outstretched in readiness to embrace him when he reached her.

"Are you sure?" Bryan asked, knowing well enough about her intuitions not to question it. The last time it had saved both their lives.

"They’re coming! I saw it in my dreams!" She insisted.

"What’s coming?" Aaron asked as he appeared next to Bryan.

"Saeran’s men," Bryan retorted hurrying to the window and looking outside. Beyond the grounds of the house, he saw only an empty street and with little indication of danger.

"Fred luv," Bryan looked at the weeping child in his arms, "are you sure? There’s nothing out there."

"They’re coming!" She looked at him with nothing less than terror in her eyes.

"Has she been wrong before?" Aaron asked not about to discount anything despite how benign the street appeared outside.

"No," Bryan said grimly. "If she thinks something is coming, I think we’d better pay attention."

"Aaron!" Eve shouted from downstairs.

Aaron and Bryan made eye contact briefly before both men hurried from the room, with Aaron leading the way and Bryan following with Fred still in his arms. Eve’s voice was filled with urgency and Aaron came quickly to the conclusion that perhaps Fred was not mistaken in her belief that danger was eminent. They reached the living room in seconds and saw that Haldir and Legolas were at the window, peering outside while Gandalf seemed deep in thought. Aaron had known the wizard long enough to guess that whatever senses Gandalf had in his keeping had also sensed the same danger as Fred.

"What is it?" Aaron asked.

"We must leave," Gandalf turned his focussed gaze upon the younger man. "I sense them coming."

"So do I," Legolas confirmed from the window. "They are close."

Bryan set Fred down, who was rather overwhelmed by the fact that they were suddenly more than two people. She left Bryan and drifted towards Gandalf in particular, her blue eyes fixed upon him. He felt very familiar to her in a way she could not explain. Gandalf in turn lowered his gaze to Fred, noting the child’s attention was on him.

"Hello there Fred," he greeted her warmly. "My name in Gandalf."

"Hello Gandalf," she looked at him, still wearing that expression of knowing.

"Don’t worry yourself too much over all this," he said warmly. "We’re all your friends here and we will protect you from him."

Her eyes widened and as those blue orbs stared at him in understanding, Gandalf could very well imagine that it was Frodo Baggins staring at him.

"You know about him," she said softly, whispering so that Bryan who was more interested in talking to Eve at that moment, would not hear her.

"Yes," Gandalf nodded. "I know about him. Sometimes, I see him myself."

"He made them hurt mummy and daddy," Fred replied in a tiny voice. "I don’t want him to hurt Bryan too."

"He won’t," Gandalf answered lowering himself so that he could make eye contact with her, "I promise."

Fred started to feel a little better because when Gandalf made a promise, she had a feeling he would keep it no matter what.

**********

"We’re leaving Tory," Aaron told her and the lawyer could only stare at him dazed before running to get her coat and her handbag, unable to think of anything else she should take during this sudden flight.

"Turn off all the lights," Bryan barked and Eve complied, hurrying to the light switch and going through the process of ensuring that they were in darkness in a matter of seconds. If not for one remaining light whose illumination was low enough to be safe, they would be unable to see anything but silhouettes.

"What is the plan?" Eve asked no one in particular when she returned.

"The plan is, we get as far away from here as possible," Bryan stated firmly. "Hopefully before we have to get through them."

"Good idea," Aaron agreed glancing at Fred whose eyes were darting about frantically, more conscious of the impending danger than any of them, elves included. "We’ve got a kid with us."

"We must hurry," Legolas urged as he kept a vigil at the window. With his elven sight, he could see better in the darkness than any of them. I sense that they are very close."

"Right," Bryan nodded, not about to question how the elf was so sure of this because he was grateful for the warning. Instead he turned to Eve and asked, "where are all those weapons you brought in here?"

"Here," she said already at the canvas duffle bag she had unloaded from the back of the car shortly after Bryan’s arrival. His accounting of how he had been evading gunfire for the past twenty-four hours had made Eve feel strangely vulnerable and she had retrieved the cache of weapons that she brought with her from the Anemone. During their time in Valinor, the guns had languished in storage with Eve thinking she would never have to use them again. However, with their return to the modern world and the nature of their business here, Eve had felt it prudent to bring them along.

Meanwhile, the elves were already arming their bows, preparing for the worst when it came. Legolas and Haldir both kept their attention fixed on what was transpiring outside and while it seemed quiet for the moment, they could sense the danger closing in on them. Time was dwindling; it was pressing up against them like the walls of the room and both counted themselves fortunate that they had taken the liberty of retrieving their bows and quiver when they learnt that the Nazgul were loose upon this world.

"What have you got?" Bryan asked Eve as he lowered himself next to her while she rummaged through the contents of the unzipped the bag.

"Just a shotgun and a couple of handguns. I have lots of ammunition though. Here Aaron, take this," Eve checked her police issue Barretta and ensured that the weapon was cocked and loaded before handing it to Aaron. "You still remember how to shoot one of these things?"

"Point and fire, I remember," Aaron nodded feeling the weight of it in his hand and remembering immediately, his intense dislike for this type of weapon.

"Nope," Eve shook her head, "he’s not."

"Hey, this of it this way," Aaron said sarcastically, reacting to the slight made at his expense, "if I shoot either one of you, being a medical doctor I can patch you up."

"That’s comforting to know," Bryan said frowning before turning to Eve again, "pass me the shot gun."

Eve handed him the weapon as well as the box out of shells that went with it. Bryan admired the modifications she had done to it, namely sawing off the edge so it was easier for her to handle. Eve had armed herself with a 45 calibre automatic handgun.

"Nothing us American girls love more than our guns," Eve said tautly.

"I do not think these weapons will avail you much protection against the enemy," Gandalf interrupted at this point. "They are not elven blessed, you will not harm the Nazgul."

"The Nazgul may not come alone," Bryan retorted. "The men that came after us this morning were definitely human. I know because I killed two of them."

"They are here!" Legolas called out over his shoulder just as orbs of light flooded the dark confines of the house. The sound of distant engines approaching fast filled the air and all was quiet until Fred broke the silence by running to Bryan.

"We have to go now!" Fred said tugging at his hand insistently towards the door.

"She’s right," Aaron could not fault the child’s logic. "Let’s move before they get any closer!"

"Fred, how about you stay with me and Gandalf," Tory said as she approached the little girl and took her hand. Tory knew that the others would be busy trying to get them out of their present predicament in one piece and since she had no experience with using a gun, the best that she could contribute to their escape was to ensure that Fred was safe.

Bryan raised his eyes and met Tory’s gaze, offering that unfathomable look he had given her earlier when they had put Fred to bed. She thought he was going to speak but instead made eye contact with a thoughtful expression on his face. For a moment, Tory did not know what to say under the power of that gaze. Fortunately, time was short and he concluded the moment with a slight nod that inspired Tory to flash him a little smile. It was enough.

"Let’s go!" Aaron prompted the others and they began moving quickly towards the door. The lights outside were becoming brighter, an indication of how close the enemy was approaching, and the powerful revving of engines grew louder in their ears. They would barely have enough time to escape with their lives.

"Its going to be a tight squeeze," Eve declared as they emerged into the night, a strange procession of bodies moving down the front steps. It was cold outside and the chill only added to the urgency they felt as they saw the bright headlights almost upon them.

"We’ll manage!" He retorted as he ran down the sidewalk towards the lime green Ford Galaxy which he had cursed as being the worst car Eve could have bought until now. For once the fact that the car was built like a sailboat had some advantage. No Toyota was going to fit eight people in any reality. It would be a tight fit as Eve said but at least they could.

"I’ll drive!" Aaron declared out, prompting Eve to toss the keys in his direction and as he caught it with one hand, heard someone mumbling behind him that made him retort sharply, "I heard that Legolas!"

Reaching the car, they began to pile in just as the black sedans carrying the enemy came to a screeching halt outside Tory’s house. There were at least three cars and no sooner than they had come to a stop, men began pilling out of their innards. Meanwhile, Gandalf had taken charge of Fred, holding the child in his lap as Haldir and Legolas quickly surrounded him on either side. Aaron sat behind the wheel and thanked God that the car’s front seats was similar to the back, it meant that at least four people could squeeze in front if necessary. He felt Eve pressing against him as he brought the engines to life. She immediately got up on her knees and pushed open the sunroof, surveying the situation with her gun drawn.

"Get this goddamn moving!" Eve shouted as the Nazgul started towards them.

If the humans working for Saeran were not alerted to their presence yet, then Eve’s demanded accomplished that adequately. As soon as the enemy turned towards the car, Bryan leapt into action having shoved Tory into the front seat next to Eve. They needed time to get away and those men would reach them in a matter of seconds. He cocked the shotgun and fired into the thickest part of the group. The initial shot sent one man flying back from the blast and gave the other reason to pause. However, while their human pursuers retreated, the Nazgul did not. They kept coming.

"Bryan get in the car!" Eve shouted as the first sounds of return gunfire exploded around their ears. "I’ll cover you!"

"This damn street’s a cul-de-sac!" Aaron swore. "I’m going to have to go through them."

"Do so!" Legolas declared and pushed himself out of the window, until half his body was hanging out of it. Though it was difficult to manage, the elf was able to string his bow and take aim at the Nazgul as the Ford began to surge forward, closing the distance between them. Haldir seeing Legolas’ intent and aware that he was the only other person save Gandalf, who had a means of slowing down Sauron’s dark agents, followed the Prince’s lead and placed himself in the precarious position beyond the window of this infernal contraption.

The arrows flew threw the air with surprising swiftness. A terrible screech, like a banshees wail screamed through the night as the elven blessed arrows met their target, striking the lead Nazgul in the chest. The realization that they had been hurt immediately cautioned the others and their pace slowed as the car continued its breakneck speed towards them. Legolas’ speed with the bow had not altered much in over a hundred thousand years and any one who thought that a bow was dated in comparison to a gun, had cause to regret it as arrow after arrow struck the Nazgul. The arrows would not kill them because it took a greater power than an elven blessing to destroy the dark creatures but it hurt sufficiently them.

Seeing that the arrows from both elves were physically injuring the Nine, the human agents of Sauron began turning their guns towards them. Bryan and Eve were quick to counter this, using their guns to lay down a barrage of suppressing fire that kept them from getting a clear shot at either Legolas or Haldir. Very soon, they had soon ensured that the enemy was seeking cover to avoid being hit.

Meanwhile, Aaron was navigating through the Nazgul and humans who were bent on stopping the car. He jammed his foot down on the accelerator and promptly drove into the last remaining obstacle in his way. This was a Nazgul who ran forward and threw himself across the bonnet of the car, grabbing on tightly as his body landed with a dull thud. The pasty face masked creature looked through the windscreen at Aaron and then at passengers in the front seat. His crimson gaze seemed to sparkle when he caught sight of the tiny face holding Gandalf tightly before smashing his fist through the glass.

"Hit the brakes!" Bryan shouted as he fired at the Nazgul only to see the bullets did little if any good. The Ringwraith took the shots as the car left his companions behind, with little more than a flinch.

"I’m not stopping this car," Aaron shouted as he shook himself, trying to dislodge any pieces of glass that had fortunately not cut him to ribbons. "Legolas! Get him off!"

Legolas craned further out, until he was almost kneeling out the window and fired his bow once more. The arrow struck the Nazgul in the throat and once again that terrible scream of pain followed, coupled with black fury. It clawed at the projectile imbedded in its body and as Aaron swung around the corner, were unable to maintain his grip. The Nazgul’s body flew off the car, tumbling away into the darkness and colliding with what sounded like rubbish bins. Aaron did not care; he was more interested in what he could see in his rear view mirror, which was nothing. They were not being followed. Hopefully, the encounter with elven arrows had given the Nazgul reason to pause.

"Is everyone alright?" Aaron asked, trying to keep his eyes on the road but the doctor in him would not be satisfied until he knew that every one of his comrades was safe. There had been a lot of bullets flying back and forth as evidenced by the bullet holes in the body of the car and the fact that he had only one headlight. He was certain that when time permitted, they would find a good deal more. Anyone of those could have been lethal.

"I’m okay," Eve said to Aaron and noted the sigh of relief at that news.

"She is quite safe with me," Gandalf answered offering the child a warm smile. "She’s been very brave. Haven’t you Fred?"

"I’m okay Bryan," her small voice returned and she peeked over the edge of the front seat to deliver Bryan a smile.

"Oh God Bryan!" Tory exclaimed when she noticed a glimmer of something slick on his shoulder caught the light. "You’re shot!"

"What the hell did I just ask?" Aaron accused him with annoyance. "Didn’t I ask if everyone was okay?"

"Steady on," Bryan looked at him. "Its a flesh wound."

"Just stings," Bryan shrugged, determined to allay Fred’s fears. "I’ll be alright."

"You want to let me be the judge of that?" Aaron countered, believing no gunshot wound was minor. "I am after all the doctor here."

"I thought you were a psychiatrist," Bryan returned amused by the man’s reaction.

"He moonlights," Eve explained but she felt the same blase about Bryan’s wound. She had been shot a couple of times during her career as a police woman and it was never as bad as those who were unaccustomed to the life might think. "Aaron, it really doesn’t look too bad. I’m sure it just passed through without hitting anything vital."

"We should stop when we have drawn a little further away from the Nazgul Aaron," Legolas advised in case Aaron was inclined to stop the vehicle. "We surprised them on this occasion but I do not think that it will be long before they come in search of us again."

"Any easy enough matter for Sauron," Gandalf replied. "If he could sense Frodo’s soul in this child, I do not doubt that he was able to sense me."

"I doubt he would be that specific," Eve replied. "He may know you’re around but exactly? That’s a little coincidental."

"Yes but if he knows that Gandalf here is likely to be with Aaron and there’s every reason to believe that after what you told me happened in New York, then Tory’s would be the natural place to look." Bryan offered as he flinched a little at the pain that was hard to ignore now that his adrenaline was no longer pumping.

"Well we need to get off the streets," Aaron said glancing at Bryan and not liking the slick patch on the fabric of his coat that was becoming larger by the minute. "I need to look at your arm and don’t give me any of that crap about you being able to handle it. The bleeding is getting worse."

"Alright then," Bryan said with a sigh, aware that this doctor was not going to take no for an answer. "I suggest we get out of town. The less people who see us the better."

"Head south," Tory spoke up suddenly.

"South?" Aaron looked at her in question. "What’s south?"

"A client whose summer home is presently unoccupied," she replied automatically.

"How do you know?"

"Because he’s behind bars," Tory answered before adding, "I couldn’t get him bail."

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