Since the fall of Numenor, and the coming of the Sea Kings to Middle Earth, there had been the whispers among the Eldar and the wise about a man for whom time meant nothing. He had been known by many names throughout the history of our world. The name by which he first introduced himself to us was Tom Bombadil, the Noldor had called him Envinyatar, the Renewer, and the name he was given in the Grey Elven tongue was i Nestir, the Healer. In the late Third Age, during the War of the Ring however, he was known in the common Westron tongue of Middle Earth simply as "The Doctor."
Chapter 1 – A Tardis in Numenor
Stormcage Containment Facility in the 52nd century, C.E.
"Hello, Sweetie." The woman with the curly, golden blond hair greeted him from behind the bars of her prison cell with bright, welcoming green eyes that held not just a bit of naughtiness within them. Behind her, a heavy rain pounded against the darkened window of her cell. "So, where to tonight?"
The man on the other side of the bars was tall and thin with dark, wavy hair which had been slicked back. He wore a long brown coat, blue collared shirt with brown waistcoat and gunmetal gray slacks more appropriate to the Victorian age of England on Earth than to the fifty second century. But what really popped out about his manner of dress was the ridiculous bow tie he kept insisting was "cool." It was this annoying insistence that only endeared him more to her.
"Oh, I don't know, Ms. Song. Someplace dangerous and exotic I suppose. If you like that sort of thing, of course." He replied with a boyish grin and a twinkle in his eye. "Perhaps with open markets, gilded palaces, and stunning vistas."
"Oh, you had me at dangerous, love. I've been bored out of my mind all week." She replied. "How long has it been for you? When was the last time you met me?"
"Long enough, I should think." He replied somewhat coyly without answering her second question.
It was then that she noticed a kind of sadness in his eyes even as he seemed genuinely pleased to see her. "What is it you're not saying?" She asked him.
"Everything, of course. When do I say anything, or everything?" The boyishly handsome man replied. "So, what does a capable and beautiful doctor of archaeology who has been imprisoned for murder and bored out of her mind all week say to a visit to Atlantis, before it sinks of course, hmm?"
"Atlantis? I had always been told that was an old Earth legend." River questioned. "I'd honestly never bothered to have a look."
"And so it is. That Greek fellow had such a fertile imagination. He embellished everything of course. No, if he knew what it had really been like, no one would have believed him. So, what do you say?" He answered.
"I say," she replied with a slight purr to her voice, "I would look absolutely smashing in a new Atlantean dress, Doctor."
"And so you would, Doctor Song." The Doctor replied removing a long silver object from the inside pocket of his coat. "So you would."
The end of the tool opened like a kind of metal flower blooming to reveal an emerald colored crystal which lit up as he pointed it towards the control panel of the lock on her cell door. The sonic waves flowing from the complicated and powerful tool the Doctor somewhat flippantly called a "screwdriver" could be heard briefly before the door released and swung open freely. The man swept into the cell with a spring and a dance in his step as he somewhat flamboyantly took his sometimes wife who had murdered him in another time and another place by the hand and led her away to a deep blue, London police box waiting in a nearby corridor of the extreme security prison.
"Seriously though," she asked again, retrieving a blue diary the same color as the box from her pocket as he stopped to open the door, "when was the last time you met me?"
"I could ask the same." He replied, putting his hand on the diary gently in order to keep her from opening it. "But personally, I'm not interested in either endings or beginnings at this point." His voice then took on a more somber and serious tone as he said, "And I'd really not like to be alone right now, if that's alright with you."
Her own expression softened as she recognized the look of loss and pain in his face. She had seen it so many times before that it had become second nature to her, whether in other people or while looking into a mirror. Where the Doctor's expression was concerned however, she knew it better than even this, his face, every one of his faces, having been burned into her mind and heart since she was a little girl; first out of the psychopathic programming the perverse cult, the Silence, instilled in her after tearing her from her mother's arms just after birth in order to turn her into his perfect assassin. After that, after her own parents, his companions Rory and Amy, had gotten through to her, she devoted herself to him and everything about him. Diligently studying for years to earn her doctorate in archaeology in the fifty second century just so she could find a way to keep track of him and locate him again. He was a lonely god in an infinitely expanding and wondrous universe, and if she could ease that loneliness for him, if even only for a tiny bit of his own timestream, she would. She couldn't just stay with him forever. That wouldn't work for so many reasons both comprehensible and not by the human mind. But she could be there for him now, in his "now," whenever that "now" happened to intersect with hers.
He was hurting. She could see that. He had just suffered some terrible loss. And out of everyone in all of time and space, he chose to come to her for comfort. That was no meaningless thing.
"That's just fine with me. I've made no other plans for this evening, after all." She answered him with just a saucy touch, but a deep compassion for her timeless husband underneath the sass as the door to the TARDIS opened. They both passed through to the impossibly bigger on the inside, extra-dimensional vessel for which time and space were no limits at all.
In less than a minute, as alarms across the cell block sounded and well armed guards were mobilized, the blue police box seemingly from Earth's twentieth century London, which had no logical business being in the corridor of a fifty second century prison, faded and then disappeared from that time and space almost as if it never existed there in the first place.
9400 B.C.E. in what would come to be called the Atlantic Ocean on Earth…
The sky above the eastern coastal city of Romenna held dark clouds lined with silver as the sun began its dip into the west. White stone and golden towers and walls adorned and protected the city as it sheltered the bay where a gathering of nine ships was in port, and the people of the city were moving quickly towards them with only what possessions they could carry in their hands.
This was the scene which greeted the Doctor and River Song as they stepped out of the TARDIS into a marketplace. It was not the scene the Doctor had expected at all as his expression changed from mirth and excitement at the possibility of a holiday with his wife to take his mind off of weightier matters to confusion, then concern, and a gravity settled over him once again as his eyes took it all in and his near infinitely complex mind processed what he was seeing.
"It looks as though we arrived just before the storm, so to speak." River told him, though there was little trace of the sass intended in her expression as she viewed the scene. She had changed from her prison clothes to an off white pants suit with gold trim which looked both professional and comfortable on her. "You could have put us down a few years before this, don't you think?"
"Something's not right." The Doctor told her. "They shouldn't know. They shouldn't know what's about to happen to them, much less when. Yet here they are, preparing. Evacuating. This isn't right."
"What are you talking about? Have you been here before?" River asked, then mentally hit herself remembering to whom she was talking. "What am I saying, you're the Doctor, of course you've been here before."
"I have been here before. Of course I have, yes. But this isn't right." He told her as he looked around at the people hurrying towards the ships waiting for them. "It happens suddenly and without warning. The island sinks, taking everyone with it."
"And you didn't try to save anyone?" River asked, skeptical.
"I can't. It's a fixed moment in time. It has to happen or all of time… Oh no." The Doctor's face became even more grave.
He pulled the long slender tool from his coat pocket again and aimed it everywhere around him, waving it and turning around quickly so as to take in the entire scene with his "sonic screwdriver."
"No, this isn't right at all." He pronounced as he looked at the results his screwdriver was giving him. "We need to find someone." He then announced suddenly.
"Who?" River asked in confusion, knowing it was pointless even as the word escaped her lips.
"Someone. Anyone. Someone who can tell us what the hell is happening here." He answered as he took her hand and launched them both towards the docks where men in wealthy looking dress wearing family crests which seemed to mean something, and who had the air of authority about them were watching the proceedings and giving instructions.
There were three men in particular overseeing what looked to be the final boarding of the ships. They were tall, powerfully built men with kind green eyes and features so alike they had to be brothers at least, though one did look older than the others and seemed to command respect and obedience from the other two. This man wore a silver ring on his left hand of two serpents wearing crowns with an emerald inset between them. His chest carried a silver breastplate set with the image of a white tree over his richly woven sea blue shirt. Silver greaves covered his legs. A long, two handed sword was in a scabbard at his back. A well groomed beard flecked with silver adorned his cheeks and chin adding to his regal aspect. He looked a refined and wealthy Charlemagne out of Earth's medieval period rather than someone from an ancient Greek fairy tale.
This was the man the Doctor approached.
"Hallo!" He greeted the lordly man cheerfully. "A fine day for a voyage at sea isn't it?"
"Well met, friend." The man replied, a little confused at being approached by someone in so strange of dress, but friendly if rather weary nonetheless. "Though I could wish it would be under better circumstances. If you have come to join us, I believe there is still room there," he pointed towards a large galleon type ship at the end of the far dock, "the Merry Swan. She's not yet full."
"That's alright actually, we've already secured our own passage, haven't we love?" He replied, looking to River who nodded her head.
"Oh, yes. We're quite set." She agreed with him.
"I'm glad to hear it." The lord answered. "Not enough have seen the truth of it as we have. The king is a fool that puts all of us in danger with his blasphemy and pride. Every day Sauron tickles his ears with promises of power, and every day he grows madder and bolder than before. I can only hope my father will be able to talk sense into him, though I think he would have better luck talking sense to a rock than to our royal cousin."
"What's the chap gone and done this time?" The Doctor inquired.
"He intends to do the unthinkable," The regal man replied, "and the absolutely forbidden." He then looked at the Doctor as though studying his face. "I'm sorry, have we met? You look very familiar, like a man I met in my youth."
"No, sorry. I can't say yet that we have up until this moment in time." The Doctor answered honestly, though he took note of the question carefully. He'd never met the man before that day, but could it be possible that he had met the Doctor in his youth? Of course it was.
"Lord Elendil!" Another man ran up to the regal, older man. He was younger, and wore more common clothes. He bowed before the man, then handed him a rolled up piece of parchment. "A message from Lord Amandil. He said it was urgent."
The regal man unrolled the parchment and read its flowing, cursive script silently before handing it to one of the younger men standing next to him who read it and passed it to the other.
"Damn." Elendil swore. "My father was right. Ar-Pharazon has weighed anchor to sail for the western lands. The Valar will not let this go unpunished."
"No, they won't will they?" The Doctor agreed as though he understood. River knew better than to assume that he did. She herself was a convincing liar when she needed to be. The Doctor was a master at it, though his lies were usually told to protect people rather than let them be harmed by information they couldn't understand properly.
A look of deep sadness welled up in Elendil's eyes as they took in the scene of the port city before them. It was the one last long look one gives their home before they leave forever. "No, friend. They won't, and neither will Iluvatar." He finally responded, his eyes glistening from tears he refused to let fall. "So many people in Numenor fallen prey to the deceit of Sauron's monstrous worship. So many lives lost, and nothing we can do but tell as many as are still faithful to get on the ships and pray for mercy and safe haven to the eastern mainland in Middle Earth." He then sighed, and turning his attention back to the Doctor, he smiled a sad smile and said, "But it is good to have you both heed the call. I'm sorry, what was your name, friend?"
"Tom." The Doctor blurted out, seemingly before thinking it through. "Tom… Bombadil, and this is my wife, Goldberry." He put his arm around River's shoulders as she gave him a disapproving expression at the ridiculous name he came up with. "Though I suppose most people just call me 'the Doctor.'"
"Tom Bombadil. I'll remember that name, I think. Though I can see why most would just call you the Doctor. It is a bit unusual isn't it? Neither Adunaic nor Sindarin. Are you from the south country?" Elendil asked.
The Doctor had just been about to answer when one of the other men next to Elendil spoke, "Father, the ships are almost fully boarded. We must get aboard ourselves now and weigh anchor."
"And so we should, Isildur." Elendil responded. "Make sure the captains have the coordinates for our rendezvous point off the coast. We need lose no more due to neglect."
"Yes, father. Anarion and I will see it done." The two men moved off, hurrying to carry out their father's orders.
"I must go. We will meet again, I am certain of it." Elendil then turned and addressed the Doctor. "May the light of the Valar shine upon you both, and upon us all this night." He gave them both a blessing, and then moved off towards the nearest boarding ramp.
The Doctor and River waved farewell after him before turning quickly to head back to the egregiously out of place London police box waiting for them in Romenna's empty marketplace nearby. It appeared that everyone who would be boarding the ships were finishing doing so in short order.
"Tom Bombadil? Seriously?" River asked. "That was the name you came up with?"
"I was under pressure. It was the first thing that popped into my head." He responded defensively. He then added, "Actually, I rather like it. It sounds cool."
"No my love, it doesn't." River disagreed. "So what now?"
"I honestly don't know. This whole time stream feels wrong, like it shouldn't be here. It looks and feels nothing like it did the last time I visited. It was lovely actually. The bull leapers were quite amazing to watch." He told her.
They reached the door of the TARDIS and went inside. The Doctor went immediately to the control console to study what his ship was telling him about when and where they were. "No, no, no. The TARDIS is insistent this is the right place and time."
"She is usually right about that sort of thing." River told him.
"Yes. Yes, she is." He agreed. "I've watched Atlantis' waning days before. I saw the cataclysm which destroyed it. I even looked for survivors on ships, but there were none. It happened so fast and so violently they were all destroyed before anyone knew what was happening."
"Why would you of all people want to watch…" River began to ask him and then stopped herself. There was only one reason why the Doctor would watch the end of so many lives willingly. "You tried to save them. You tried to prevent their deaths didn't you? That's how you know it's a fixed point. You couldn't do anything about it."
"No. I couldn't." He told her, his voice low and edged with regret. "I had hoped to show it to you when it was still… lovely. A preview or predecessor of Egypt, Greece, and Rome all rolled into one."
"I had… I couldn't just let innocent people die. Not again." He continued, all levity gone from his voice. "Not when I at least thought I had a choice. The universe decided I was wrong in that, and proved it to me. I accepted it. But this place, this time, it's all wrong. Like someone's moved the pieces around the fixed point, cheating it of its victims so to speak."
"Then we find out why, my love." She told him, seeing in his eyes how important it was to him to understand what was happening. "After all, I've nothing better to do. So, when do we start?"
"Forward." He answered. "We go forward first and find out what consequences there are for so many surviving."
"Are you certain it wasn't you, or perhaps will be?" She asked, knowing that wasn't impossible.
"I'm not certain of anything in this moment." He told her. "Maybe I will be at some point in the past, but not yet. I must know first how the paradoxes were avoided. How was human history not forever changed by this?"
"Where to then?" She asked.
"London, 2012 or so." He responded, throwing a lever to send them through the time vortex. "Twelve thousand years of unfolding time should show us what the ramifications are. We'll work our way backwards from there."