Maedhros

by Scribe

Seq to Triumvirate- Frank Miller become involved in an archaelogical project called Maedhros & inadvertently stumbles into a strange new world. As Frank uncovers the secret behind Maedhros, his existence is revealed to enemies he cannot fathom. COMPLETE.

5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

New Acquaintances

The twins had never traveled to Forodwaith during the age of Middle Earth.

Alas their journey northwards had taken them no further than Mithlond and even then the twins had never felt the desire to venture into the icy wasteland beyond it.  Despite the fact that both brothers were avid explorers, the limitations of the times ensured that such a journey would be fraught with peril and there were far more pleasant places to visit in Arda than the ruined coast of what was once Beleriand and the ancient kingdoms.  Some regret of this did follow them to the Undying Lands when they finally crossed over sea, borne out of the longing for the land they had known all their lives coupled with the fear of going to an unknown place for all time. 

However, that was the past and now, it appeared that both Elladan and Elrohir would at last see the lands of Forodwaith.  The perils of the past no longer existed, not when they had made the journey on the large, snake like carriage that moved through mountains and across the landscape without pause.  Comfortably, they had sat in their berth, watching the scenery comprising of towns and the landscape between.  As they moved northwards, the twins spied the familiar shape of mountains where Imlardis had been.  Unfortunately, the moment was fleeting because the land had change so drastically that it bore little resemblance to their childhood home of the Last Homely House.  They could have broken the journey to wander its paths, transmuted as it was by history and change, but it would bring them as much grief as it would bring pleasure.

Travelling up the European coast, they saw the terrain become vibrant and green, filled with such lush beauty that it could almost be comparable with Valinor.  Unlike America, Europe saw no reason to build excessively. Much of the countryside remained with the same sense of tradition that they had seen in England. Their knowledge of recent history was not as in depth as it could be. Like most of the Valinorians, they had poured over the books that had been brought back during the two initial excursions to Arda but their grasp of the language was new and not all the words had meaning which they could fathom. Aaron, Eve, Bryan and Tory had explained as best they could but it was still a difficult proposition to compress ten thousands years of history into a quick, accessible format.

Aaron had once said that if Africa was the cradle of humanity, then Europe was the cradle of the modern world.

In Europe there was pride in what was old. It was preserved, restored and blended into suit.  More than any place they had been since arriving in Arda again, Europe reminded them Middle Earth as it once was.  They traveled through northern France, recognizing that these were once the lands of Arnor and then across Germany to enter the country called Denmark.  Beyond the window of their great carriage, they could see a land swathed in green as far as the eye could see, marred only by the occasional settlement and framed by magnificent coasts. They travel along its length, reaching to the very edge of the country before disembarking from their carriage to make the crossing into Norway by sea. 

Once again, the crossing allowed them to see the great fjords of Norway and further inland, the peaks of mountains that seemed endless.  It seemed that much of this country still remained covered in vegetation, allowing its natural beauty to flourish amidst the encroaching progress of civilization.  The twins liked this country very much and believed that the mountains were most likely what remained of Ered Mithrin though it was possible that they were wrong.  From the sea, their introduction to Norway made them anxious to explore the country once they had ensured the safety of Bryan Miller's brother.  Elrohir who had become fast friends with the reincarnation of Gondor's great Captain, had promised Bryan that he would and the journey across Europe had been so rewarding for both brothers that neither minded undertaking the errand.

Arriving in the city of Oslo, they had become so accustomed to travelling in the world of Arda that it was with little difficulty that they were able to find the place where Frank Miller was likely to be found.  It was hard to perceive that Frank was a scholar when one had met his brother.  That Bryan, who was the personification of the warrior spirit, had a younger brother whose vocation made him a scholar of the past, was somewhat astonishing to the twins.  Still, it was no more astonishing to know that the former king of Gondor had been reborn as a healer who had difficulty bearing arms of any kind. 

The question of how to approach Bryan's sibling did however, weigh heavily upon their minds. 

Bryan had been adamant that once they delivered to Frank the message they bore from his brother, Frank would understand the need for Bryan's disappearance. However, whether or not they wished to tell Frank about Valinor and the elves was another matter entirely. One thing they had learnt, not only from this visit but also from the one previously, men had a great deal of difficulty grasping the concept that they were not masters of this world. Being left alone for the past hundred thousand years, where not only the elves had departed but also the dwarves had gone to ground, had made them forget that they had once shared Arda with other races.

While the situation had demanded both Aaron and Bryan to accept the truth that it was otherwise, there was no immediate peril that would facilitate this for Frank.  As a scholar, he would be even more difficult to convince then Bryan and despite their great affection for his brother, the twins had no idea how Frank would react to being told the truth, if they should decide to tell him. Unfortunately, anyone who came into contact with them for an extended period, possessing of a keen intellect would see that there was something about them that simply did not fit in the modern world.  The twins were certain that Frank would see this.

It was decided that they would see how things develop and make their minds up once they had encountered Frank.  Elves were fairly good judge of character, since their experiences and their honed senses allowed them to see deeper beneath the skin than most. Once they met him, they should have some sense of the man, enough hopefully to decide whether or not he could be trusted with their secret.

"Do you think we should simply go to his home and announce ourselves?" Elladan asked his brother as they moved through the sprawling grounds of the Oslo University campus.  Fortunately, there was always someone who spoke English so the duo were not completely overwhelmed by the language barrier.  Their use of English had them branded quickly as tourists and so people were inclined to be naturally helpful in giving them directions, not to mention paying little attention to them beyond that fact.

"I do not see how else we are to approach him," his brother replied, his gaze moving across the park where he saw young people sprawled at rest areas, under trees and in the middle of the grass, enjoying the sunshine whilst pouring over their books. There was an air of dignity about the place, an atmosphere of burgeoning knowledge wishing to burst free from the minds of those who approached their scholarly pursuits with reverence. It reminded Elrohir of his father's instruction to young acolytes in the healing arts during their time in Arda.  "If we approach him with subterfuge it may make the rest of what we tell him even more difficult to accept."

"I am still dubious as to the sensibility of that course," Elladan replied as he saw a golden haired beauty walk past him with an enchanting smile. "You saw Eve was when we first appeared to her."

"She did not faint," Elrohir pointed out, "that is always a good sign. Actually, have you noticed the women in this time are less prone to fainting?"

"Well I think it has to do with the great teachers that Eve speaks so frequently about, the ones that changed everything," Elladan remarked off handedly as he gazed up the stretch of walkway that led to the staff residences as directed to him by a helpful student earlier on.

"Ah yes," Elrohir nodded, having been subject to their quotes several times since their sister's return to their lives. "Gloria of Steinham and Germaine of Greer."

***********

It was chaos in the Miller household.

Well it was always chaos around dinner, Frank thought as he tried to round up the boys who were playing outside while fielding requests from his wife to set the table at the same time since she was the one cooking. Naturally Sam and Pip, whose duty it actually was, were in the garden,  having suddenly developed selecting hearing even though Frank had called out twice for them already.  He had been trying to finish grading some papers in his study when Miranda enlisted him in the duty and somehow his comment of 'just one more luv' did not impress her. Fortunately,  Frank had learnt well enough during nine years of marriage not to get on the wrong side of a wife with ex-military combat skills and had begrudgingly set the papers aside.

"I know you heard me!" Frank shouted through the door once more and heard Sam responding something that they would be just one minute. "Dinner's almost ready and I'm not happy to be stuck with your jobs. Get in here now!"

Frank shook his head and retreated into the dining room, swearing profusely when he accidentally treaded on Pip's Anakin Skywalker action figure. Leaning over, he picked up the toy and frowned when he saw the saber had been bent under the weight of his boot.

"You're going to get a red one anyway," Frank muttered tossing it someplace where it would not offend, the sofa, before continuing towards the kitchen.

He found Miranda over the stove, putting the finishing touches to the evening meal, which smelt tasty enough although he knew from experience that it did not always deliver what it promised. 

"Tell me," he asked, following the wafting trail of aroma, "why do we have children?"

She cracked a smile and replied without looking up, "because you decided that the only way appreciate Africa by moonlight was to sit under the stars with a blanket and a bottle of Riesling."

"Oh yes," Frank replied sliding his arms around her waist as he nuzzled her hair from behind remembering the occasion well. While neither of them could say for certain that Sam was conceived that night, it suited the romantic in both of them to think so.  "I was right, wasn't I?" He asked as she turned her head slightly to capture his lips in a kiss.

"Aside from all the grass in my clothes, I can't say that you were," she replied when they had parted.

"Dinner smells good," Frank remarked when the aroma of dinner captured his attention once more. "Though I think you have a bit too much cheese on that spaghetti sauce."

Miranda stiffened and gave him a look, "it's lasagna."

Frank winced under his breath.  "I'll just go get the boys," he replied quickly, deciding that the best way to avoid the minefield he had inadvertently stumbled into was to make a strategic withdrawal from the battlefield.

"Coward," she accused him with narrowed eyes even if her lips were crooked with amusement.

"You bloody well better believe it," he grinned and went to round up his errant children who had just entered the house from the garden.

"You owe me you two," Frank pointed out as he regarded the table. "It's your job to set the table." He added, ruffling Pip's hair as he cast his gaze upon Sam.

"Sorry dad," Sam replied, hurrying to take up the task because he did not like the idea of disappointing his father in anything, even if it was something as simple as setting the table.

"That's alright," Frank smiled at his oldest and flinched at the purple bruise across Sam's nose. "How is your face?"

"It doesn't hurt so much any more," Sam called out as he darted into the kitchen to get the plates for the table.

"Aksel doesn't bother me anymore after mum talked to him," Pip replied as he extended his hands out and displayed the universal sign of airplane to his father who promptly lifted him into the air and spun him around.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Frank muttered, hoping Miranda was not too harsh with the child, even if the little wretch deserved it.

"Oh by the way boys," he said quietly to Pip and motioning Sam over when the child emerged from the kitchen armed with plates.  "We're having lasagna."

Both boys nodded gratefully at their father's warning perfectly aware of their mother's expertise when it came to cooking. 

She was capable of many wondrous things like knowing which movies to take them too even if dad had objections to the scary ones but cooking was not a skill she had mastered. Still, it was not hard to adore her when she sat through cartoons with them and let them watch South Park (much to their father's chagrin) or drove twenty miles to get them to a theatre because Pip wanted to see Harry Potter again when it was no longer showing locally. When she was required to act as disciplinarian, their punishments were usually followed by a treat, reminding them that though she was angry, she still loved them.  They understood she had difficulty saying it sometimes and she was not the kind of mother who hugged and kissed a lot. That was left to their dad but their mother was there for them in every way that mattered and neither child wished she were any different.

"What does it look like really?" Sam asked his father just as quietly.

"Spaghetti," Frank shrugged and was grateful that the phone number for pizza was on speed dial.  Father and son exchanged a short laugh before Sam went to help Pip with the setting of the table.

"Did we get videos tonight?" Frank called out to Miranda in the kitchen as Sam and Pip resumed the chore of reading the table for dinner, promptly falling into the habit of arguing over which side the fork when on the place mat. It was a discussion that Frank had been called upon numerous occasions to intercede.  

"Yes," Miranda sang back in response, "brace yourself, the kids want to see Raiders of the Lost Ark again."

"I wish you wouldn't rent that," Frank groaned, "it is not at all a true depiction of archaeology.  I mean I have never felt the urge to carry a bullwhip."

Miranda emerged from the kitchen carrying a serving dish, "not even once?" She teased.

"Actually, I had thoughts about you carrying one, whilst clad in figure hugging leather and boots with spiked heels."

She rolled her eyes, grateful that the conversation was lost on the children, "maybe for your next birthday," she replied winking at him mischievously.

"Really?" Frank exclaimed with a devious smirk.

Miranda did not have the opportunity to answer because no sooner than he had spoken, they heard a knock on the door.  His eyes met hers first in question before the inevitable question left his lips.

"Are you expecting anyone?" Frank asked.

"Just my lover but you can tell him to come back after dinner," she winked.

"Right," Frank shook his head, not liking the idea at all even if it was facetious.  "It may be Hans," he offered a moment later, making his way to the door to answer it since she was busy setting the hot serving dish onto the table. "He's still a little shaken about the accident in Hofsjokull.  I told him to come around if he needed company."

"Well he's welcomed certainly," Miranda answered before turning to Pip and examining his hands. "Go wash," she instructed the child and then regarded Sam with the same scrutiny, "you too Sammie."

"Mum!" Sam grumbled.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Miranda sighed, "go wash your hands."

Frank left his children to their mother and went about the business of answering the door, pushing aside another toy on the floor and making a mental note to have a 'discussion' with his children about keeping their belongings out of tripping way.  He thought of the days when his existence revolved around the study of the past and every discovery was something to relish with pride.  It was so far removed from this chaos and yet he balked at the notion of having things the way they were because he could not imagine life without Miranda and his sons.  As mad as the household and children might seem, he knew neither he nor Miranda would change any of it.  His brother Bryan, who had despised the marriage state, simply had no idea what he was missing.

Opening the door, Frank had expected to see the slightly diminished form of Professor Skogull who appeared so much older since learning of the accident. It grieved him to see his friend that way but there was little he could do to assuage the hurt of so many lost friends.  However, instead of Hans standing on the front porch of the house, Frank found himself staring at two men he had never seen before. The two strangers with dark hair and same intense eyes told Frank immediately that these were siblings.  The similarities in their features left him with no other conclusion.

Their blue eyes widened upon seeing him and a smile crossed their faces as if in recognition, Frank was quickly sifting through his memories, hoping that these were university friends that he could not longer remember but discounted it immediately. These were not faces that you forgot. 

"You are Bryan's brother," one of them said.

Frank's chest immediately tightened with anxiety. 

Six months ago, his brother had disappeared off the face of the earth.

While Frank had never known for certain what Bryan did for a living, he knew that it was dangerous and Bryan was the absolute best at what he did.  Being Bryan, he could be no other way.  Miranda who had worked with her brother had been equally closed mouth about their profession. He knew that they had both worked in some capacity for the government and it had to do with their combat training.  The scars he had seen on Miranda's skin was a testament to how dangerous the work was and too many times had Frank seen the same scarring on his brother to know that they could be killed in their line of work and had to kill in turn.  Bryan had tried his best to keep Frank out of the shadow world in which he existed and Miranda was more than happy to leave it behind in its entirely when she married him. 

When Bryan telephone him six months ago, he had explained Frank that it was necessary for him to disappear.  Frank understood and accepted it even if he did not like the idea of being cut off from his brother.  However, Bryan would not take such steps unless there was a compelling reason and Frank had preferred his brother stay alive. However, his explanation for his impending absence was not the only thing he had to impart to Frank, there had also been a more ominous reason behind his telephone call.  He had told Frank to deny he had a brother to anyone he did not trust with his life.  Bryan had claimed to have taken appropriate measures to ensure that no one seeking him out would find their way to Frank but just in case, it was necessary to take the precaution.

Frank had not told Miranda about Bryan's warning.  He had merely informed her that her brother needed to disappear for a while and Miranda knew enough about Bryan's business to understand what that meant and needed no further details.  He knew he should have told her about Bryan's request but Miranda had so many demons of her own that Frank had not wished to add to them with the possibility that their family might be in danger. However, now that he found himself staring at these two men with their question hanging in the air like a pregnant drop of water about to fall, Frank wondered if he should have told her the truth.

"I'm sorry, you must be mistaken," Frank said retreating past the doorway, preparing to shut the door in their faces.

"Please," Elladan spoke quickly, sensing the man's apprehension. "We mean you no harm. We have a message from your brother and we have come a long way to deliver it."

"I'm sorry you have wasted your time," Frank retorted, not about to be swayed by such words, no matter how convincingly they were delivered.

"Wait," Elrohir stepped forward, reaching quickly into his coat to produce the folded piece of paper Bryan had given him to pass onto Frank. "This is for you."

Frank saw the note and paused, trapped between curiosity and the need to protect his family.  However Bryan was his brother and if these men were indeed sent by him, then Frank owed it to Bryan to at least give them the benefit of the doubt.  In any case, if they were the reason Bryan had warned him, than it was too late already because he and his family were exposed.  Reaching out gingerly, Frank took the note and unfolded it quickly, aware that they were staring at him in anticipation. It was a hand written message and the words were written in that familiar scrawl that matched a dozen or so letters that Frank had stored in his study from years of correspondence.

There was no doubt that the handwriting's was Bryan.

He did not have to read the entire contents of the letter to discern that but did so anyway just to ease his mind.

Dear Frank,

How is it going? I hope this letter finds you and family doing well up there in the cold country. Couldn't believe it when you told me that you'd pull up stakes and were heading over to Europe. Didn't you once tell me over pints at that pub in Scarborough, that Africa was where real archaeology took place? Maybe I was wrong, if I recall correctly, I was hitting on that pretty barmaid pretty hard and not paying attention, what was her name?

"Jill," Frank said softly.

Jill? Anyway, I thought I'd just drop you a note and tell you how I'm doing, which is fine.  You'd be happy to know that I have actually settled down. She's a great lass, used to be a barrister.  She didn't slap me after the first kiss, so she must be the one, eh?  We've been living together these past six months and we're perfectly safe, all three of us. Yes, there's a little one too whom I hope you'll one day meet. She's not my little girl but what drove me out of England is the reason why she's with me. It's a strange thing you know.  For once it looks like I need your advice instead of the other way around.

These blokes who have delivered this message have come a long way. I know you're probably a little nervous about receiving them after what I said to you when I left.  However, if you have any doubt that this letter is a forgery, rest assured it is not. It is as real as what you did to mum's vase and where you buried it under the rose patch, leading her to believe Mrs. Potts from down the road had nicked it. I know they're a little strange but they're my friends and their lot have seen to it than I'm very well taken care of.  You can trust them with your life Frank, yours and the family's. I mean that. They may not tell you where I am but that's okay, I think that it is better that you don't know.  They just dropped by to see you because I asked them and also because I need a few things. The shopping around here isn't good and I'm getting low on everything. I wouldn't mind a couple of cases of Fullers, what passes for alcohol around here makes me weep.

Anyway, better let you get back to it. Give my love to Miranda and the kids.

Love Bryan,

PS. Don't let them near alcohol; they hold their liquor like Yanks.

Frank lowered the letter and met the gazes of the two men waiting for his response in silent anticipation. He studied them for a moment, trying to discern why Bryan would trust them so completely and most of all, why he had advised Frank not to ask them where they had come from. It was a valid question and considering his long absence, perfectly justifiable from Frank's point of view. However, there was something about them, something he could not put his finger on.  Frank had a keen intellect when it came to reading people but for some reason, he had difficulty utilizing that skill where the duo was concerned.  Something skirted on the periphery of his mind, whispering things he was certain the logical part of him did not want to hear, but would not explain itself no matter how much he tried to understand.

"Is he alright?" Frank asked quietly.

"He was well when we last saw him," Elrohir answered him with an inward sigh of relief because it seemed as if Bryan's letter had convinced Frank to accept them as no threat to his family.

"He has taken to shaping wood," Elladan added, recalling that Bryan had apparently shown some interest in carpentry and was amenable to being taught some elven methods of the craft during his time in Valinor.

Frank let out a small laugh, "yes, he used to build things when he was younger, before he went away to the army.  I haven't seen him show an interest in it in years but I'm glad."

Elladan had met the Prince of Ithilien only a number of times during the Third Age but it seemed appropriate that he would be reincarnated as Bryan's brother. From what he knew of their relationship, Denethor's sons had been very close in order to compensate for a distant father, absorbed by matter greater than them both.  Such bonds were difficult to break and had tethered their souls to each other even through time. Frank Miller looked a little different from his Middle Earth counterpart but Elladan had no doubt that this was indeed Faramir of Ithilien.

"Please come in," Frank said after a moment, aware of Miranda staring cautiously at him from the table, wanting to know who the strangers were and why he seemed so anxious. "We were about to sit to dinner, we're happy to have you join us."

"Thank you," Elrohir nodded, appreciating the dazed tone in the man's voice.  "I am called Elrohir and this is my brother Elladan."

Frank paused a moment, looking over his shoulder at the mention of those names.  He had never heard anything quite like it and wondered what language had originated it. "Those are very unusual names, where are you from?" He asked and instinctively winced because Bryan had asked him to desist in that very question.

"From across the sea," Elladan replied smoothly, not wishing to reveal any more about their origins than that.

Frank was not surprised by the answer and supposed he deserved that elusive response for ignoring Bryan's advice. Bryan had asked him to trust them and Frank knew his brother would not make such a request lightly, especially when it meant gambling with the safety of his family.

"Luv," Frank gaze stretched across the room to find Miranda and the kids already at the dinner table. "We've got company."

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

There was something odd about their guests.

This much Miranda decided as she stared at them from across the dinner table. An atmosphere of awkwardness had settled over the room once introductions were made and their guests had joined them for the evening meal. Unspoken questions hung precariously in the air, threatening to drop at any moment. As Miranda studied the men who had entered her home, she noted the way they were looking at her and her family.  If she did not know better, she would swear that they were being viewed with familiarity.  When the brothers first looked upon Sam, they immediately broke into a smile and exchanged glances that made her maternal instincts rise to the surface with the intensity of the Alien Queen about to give Sigourney Weaver an acid bath.

However, they made no overtly untoward actions towards her son, who like all children was pleased by the attention, other than to say that they were very pleased to meet him.  What surprised Miranda was the fact that she could tell that they meant it sincerely.  They showed the same regard towards Pip, but it was clear that Sam had somehow sparked their admiration though why Miranda could not possibly imagine. When they had met her gaze, it was with that same recognition and while she and Frank felt some discomfort in their presence, the two men appeared perfectly at ease in their company, as if they were old friends becoming reacquainted.

During a short conversation in the kitchen when they had left Pip and Sam to entertain their guests, Frank showed her the contents of Bryan's letter and Miranda could not deny that its tone was very much Bryan. However, she noted that Bryan had taken care to add in details that he knew only his brother could conform as fact, even if it appeared to be little more than harmless musing at times. Despite Frank's curiosity, she could understand why Bryan would wish to keep his location a secret but wondered where these men had actually came from.

Despite their Caucasian features, it was clear that they did not hail from Europe.  She supposed they could have come from Russia but their accents did not possess any hint of that country and she had traveled it enough to know the difference.  Their voices had a resonance to it that was almost musical and they were almost picture perfect specimens of manhood.  Chiseled features, long dark hair, with braids in appropriate places and deep intense eyes that scrutinized everything with the precision of a hunter.  She knew the look well having seen it enough times in the mirror.

They looked at her in the same way, sizing her up under their intense gazes, measuring both her and Frank to some unspoken ideal. 

"How long do you plan to stay?" Miranda asked, reminding herself to curb her curiosity.  If Bryan wanted his location kept a secret, there was probably a very good reason. Knowing where he was would only make them a liability, not only to his safety but to the family's as well.

"We do not plan to remain long," the one called Elladan answered her, wearing that damnable expression of quiet awe she could not fathom.  "Bryan asked us to inquire after you, to ensure that you are safe."

"What would we have to be protected from?" She asked pointedly, not liking the idea that there was something lurking in the dark. Frank's eyes dropped at the moment and suddenly Miranda had the impression that her husband had not told her the entire truth about Bryan's disappearance.

"Boys," Frank spoke, turning his attention to Sam and Pip who had finished dinner but were still at the table. "Why don't you go start the movie without us, mum and I need to have a serious talk."

Sam nodded, his youthful face showing his concern even if Pip was too young to understand.  "Alright dad," he answered and regarded his brother, "come on Pip, let's go watch Indy."

The two children left the table and none of the adults spoke until they heard the familiar score of the classic film emanating from the television set.

"Luv," Frank cleared his throat, hating to admit to Miranda that he had lied to her but he knew his wife, she would not let go the possibility of danger until she knew the truth. "When Bryan left, he told me that he had taken care of things to ensure that no one came looking for us but if anyone asked, I was to deny that I had brother."

Miranda stared at him, aware of the implications of such a request. It meant people were hunting him, people who wanted him badly enough that they might use his family to coerce him into showing himself.  She felt her cheeks flush with anger, not because of the danger but because Frank had omitted telling her. The last six months, she had been oblivious to any danger because it did not occur to her that there could be any. How many occasions had she left herself and her children open to attack because she had not known?

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked quietly.

"I didn't think that there was any reason to worry you," Frank swallowed thickly.

"My lady," Elladan quickly interjected, "please do not be angry with your husband. Those who seek your husband's brother would have had no way to communicate to him that they had you in their power. Even if they have found you, there was very little benefit in their apprehending you.  Bryan is as beyond you as he is beyond them.  They know that."

"What does that mean?" She turned to him. "Beyond us? What is it that they think Bryan has that we could be used as blackmail."

"Something that is exceedingly dangerous," Elrohir answered cautiously, not about to reveal what they knew about Sauron and his machinations in Arda since his return into the modern age. "Your brother," he glanced at Frank, "averted a crisis that would have caused unimaginable destruction to your land but he could not destroy the enemy completely.  Bryan took away from them their leader and has him held in a place they cannot reach. Bryan feared that perhaps, they might attempt to use you to bargain for their leader's return. However, even if they embarked upon such a course, they cannot convey to your brother that they have you. So it avails them nothing.  It is far more sensible for them to wait until Bryan returns to make a move against you, which is why he remains where he is."

"You should have told me," she looked at him Frank with accusation but understanding that he had tried to protect her

"I'm sorry," Frank apologized. "I didn't want to worry you about something that may never come up."

"If that were true, these two wouldn't be here," Miranda turned to Elladan and Elrohir, "would they?"

Neither of the brothers could deny her statement abjectly. 

"We came to see if you were well," Elladan spoke after a moment, having no doubt that the White Lady existed within the flesh of this woman for she bore the shield maiden's sharp wit and strength.  "It appears to us that you are. That is the report we will bring home to Bryan when we return."

"That and your superior culinary skills," Elrohir added with a smile as he took another bite of the lasagna/spaghetti sauce hybrid, finding the meal very much to his liking. 

Miranda gave him a look and retorted, "now I know you are lying."

***********

As Miranda readied up the spare bedroom for their unexpected guests, Frank saw to task of putting their sons to bed. While Sam was proving with increasing frequency he was capable of doing more and more for himself, Pip was still young enough to require his parents' assistance for most things, a state of affairs that was of great relief to his parents.  Neither were eager to have their children grow up too quickly and even though Sam was no more than eight, he was becoming more self-sufficient than they would have liked.  Fortunately, Pip still needed help with all the little things and Frank was more than happy to tuck his youngest in bed and read him the stories he liked to hear so much.

Pip was a dreamer, Frank thought with a little smile as he helped the boy into his Harry Potter pajamas. Strangely enough, it was Pip who really the fan while Sam seemed to tolerate the obsession for his brother's sake. Frank had asked him once about why he was not engulfed in the fascination that had swept away the rest of the world's children and was rewarded with an answer that still left Frank puzzled whenever he thought about it.

"Magic's dangerous," Sam had said enigmatically and to this day, Frank had no idea why it unnerved him so much to hear his son say that.

"I want a story," Pip said after Frank had tucked him into his racing car bed within the brightly painted room filled with its toys scattered across the floor.

"Not tonight Pip," Frank replied, "we've got guests and we mustn't be rude. I'll tell you a story tomorrow."

Pip revealed his disappointment with a slight pout, which had more power to move his parents then he possibly knew.  However, the child did not offer any further protest and accepted his father's explanation.

"If you do not mind," a voice suddenly said behind them, causing Frank to turn around and find Elladan standing at the doorway, "I would like to tell him a story."

"Can he dad?" Pip sat up straight in his bed, enthused by the idea even if Frank was rather taken back by the offer.  He did not think friends of Bryan would be capable of such a thing but then there was a lot about these men that he did not understand.

"Please?" Pip insisted, putting on his most searching expression, guaranteed to melt his father's resolve.

Frank saw the pleading look in his son's eyes and knew that he could not withstand such an assault from his son.

"Alright," Frank rose to his feet and stepped away from the bed, eying Elladan with caution as the man sat on the edge of the bed.  "One story only," he said to Pip and then to Elladan, "you don't have to do this," Frank added.

"It would be my pleasure," Elladan smiled faintly and regarded the boy.  "What sort of story would you like to hear?"

"A good one!" Pip said brightly.

"He likes wizards," Frank pointed out, feeling somewhat threatened that his position had been usurped before telling himself he was behaving foolishly. "Will you be okay while I see what Sam's up to?"

"We will be fine until your return," Elladan answered with assurance in his voice. He could tell that Bryan's brother was  concerned about leaving his son with a stranger, even if it was for a few minutes.

As Frank stepped out of the room, Elladan was certain that his absence would not be prolonged. It was one thing for Frank to trust them but like any parent, his suspicion grew a thousand fold when it came to the safety of his children. Elladan turned back to the boy and saw a great deal of the young hobbit who had been one of four that had arrived in Imlardis in the last months of the Third Age. The world had changed because of hobbits, even if the one before him was not a Ringbearer like his older brother.  Elladan no longer doubted Eve's belief that souls closely connected would not seek each other out in their present lives.  So was it with this young boy, who was the son of Frank, the reincarnation of Faramir Ithilien, whose brother Boromir had died to protect.

Eru had a strange sense of irony.

"So you like to hear stories about magic?" Elladan looked at him with a smile after a moment. "I can tell you the tale of a young man whose father was keeper of a kingdom, in a time when the land bathed in darkness."

"Who was he?" Pip asked, becoming very quiet so that he could listen intently.

"He was a young man not unlike you, with an older brother who was a great warrior.  He too was a warrior in his own right but he liked books a good deal more and through his knowledge, he learnt about the dark powers and the lord who caused all the evil in his world."

"What happens to him?" The child asked, eyes wide as his imagination began to fill with images of far away lands and brave young men fighting dark powers.

"One day whilst guarding his father's lands, he came across two strangers embarking upon a great quest. You see, the two had come into possession of an evil ring belonging to the dark lord endangering them all and it was to them that the task of destroying it had come. Now like the young man, the Ringbearers were very brave because they could not be swayed by its evil and when the young man discovered what they had, he was faced with a terrible choice. You see, the ring could make him stronger than he ever dreamed. He could be better than the brother who was loved more by his father or king of the lands his father guarded. He could become the most powerful man in all the lands save the dark lord he would have to serve."

"Did he take it?" Pip asked in a hush voice.

"No, he did not," Elladan replied. "He was strong you see, far stronger than anyone had believed him capable.  His brother had always seen his strength but alas his father had not. Instead of taking the ring for himself, he allowed the Ringbearers to continue their question and they did so, destroying the ring after great peril, banishing the dark lord."

"Forever?" Pip declared expecting that was how such evil its their end.

"Nothing is forever," Elladan frowned, "let us say that he troubled that land no more."

"And the young man?"

"In allowing the Ringbearers to go on their way, the young man fulfilled his people's hopes by aiding the return of the king. The king had hidden himself away in secret, fighting to restore his title and his people to glory.  When the king returned, he was so grateful to the young man that the king gave him a kingdom of his own and the title of Pirnce. He married a beautiful princess with golden hair and who was able to wield a sword like a great warrior."

"Girls don't fight with swords," Pip pointed out with a frown.

"This one could," Elladan smiled, "and she was very good at it. Now I think that will do for now. You need your sleep."

"What about the evil ring? Tell me about how it was destroyed," Pip asked as Elladan rose to his feet.

"A story for another night," Elladan answered, making his way out the door as Pip slid further beneath his cover in order to sleep.

Elladan emerged into the hall and saw Miranda standing outside the doorway. It was obvious she had heard the tale that he had told her son and was staring as if she was seeing him in a new light.

"That's a pretty story," she commended. "Where is it from?"

"It's a great legend among my people," Elladan answered, wondering whether or not some aspects of the tale seemed familiar to her on some level. After all, it was the tale of Faramir and she who was standing before him, was once Faramir's wife, Eowyn.

"And who are your people exactly?" She asked once more.

"They are from across the sea," he replied with an amused smirk across his face at her efforts to discern their origins.

"You're not going to tell me are you?" she declared, letting out a sigh of defeat. For now.

"Not unless it becomes necessary," he said seriously.

"And what would make it necessary?" she inquired, not one to relent but then what Elladan knew of Eowyn made that somewhat consistent behavior for Miranda and left no doubt in his mind that this had once been the White Lady and the Shield Maiden of Rohan.

"Pray you never find out," Elladan stated shortly before turning away from her.

Pray, they never find you.

***********

For Irina Sadko, the past six months had been filled with disappointments and frustration.

After assuming control of Malcolm Industries, she had set to work immediately.  Her rise to power was facilitated by the Nazgul who had successfully communicated to the company's board of directors that she was the right person to fill the void whilst Saeran recovered from the injuries sustained during the fire at his Romanian residence. Her first duty as the CEO of Malcolm Industries was the search for Bryan Miller and his companions. Bryan had still ties to the world unlike Aaron Stone and Eve McCaughley and Irina had been determined to find out what she could about the former MI6 agent and exploit it to her own ends.

Unfortunately, Bryan had pre-empted her efforts, ensuring that MI6's records of him were erased and since all information about British Intelligence agents came under the jurisdiction of the Official Secret Act, Irina could learn nothing else about the man. David's own records had been destroyed along with the fortress in Romania and their own contact in MI6 had been murdered in his office. Irina had underestimated greatly the lengths that Bryan was willing to go to protect his secrets.  However, she had begun to suspect that perhaps it was not so much himself that he was trying to save but rather someone else.

Who that someone else was, neither she nor the Nine had yet to discern much to her chagrin.

With the Nine's inability to sense David and their claims that their powers were waning, Irina became convinced that the enemy had succeeded in taking David to the sanctuary of his former masters. Most would have resigned themselves to the reality that he was beyond their reach forever, but Irina was determined to retrieve him and when she learnt that Project Maedhros, a research expedition initiated by John Malcolm was unearthing some remarkable finds, she dared to hope that this might be the way to accomplish that.

David had considered the project frivolous but on closer examination of Petra Tebben's reports, Irina became less skeptical.  At first, she was uncertain at what Petra Tebben had discovered beneath the ice of Reykjavik even though David seemed to have good idea. It was not until she had read Malcolm's personal notes on the matter, notes that he had kept in his estate in New Hampshire, that Irina understood the full measure of what Petra had unearthed. What answers Malcolm's notes could not provide, the Nine were able to explain for they had been actual eyewitnesses to the age when David was lord and master of the land called Mordor in the world of Middle earth.

Here was something within her reach that was of great value to David's former masters. The question was; whether or not they deemed it important enough to trade David for it. 

It was a question that Irina wanted answered and would have succeeded in doing so by now, if not for the fact that the object in question had unexpectedly been absconded by two journalists from an Australian news network.

"So you lost them," Irina said as she stared at Morgul across the desk at her Paris office.

"For the moment," the loss hissing voice of the Nazgul leader responded.

"This incompetence is hardly worthy of your reputation," she said glaring at the pasty white mask, beneath which she knew there was no face, no eyes, no features that connected this creature with the physical world. "It is no wonder that David had always been hindered in his efforts to rule. Your ability to aid him is almost laughable. Were you this useless during his time as the Lord of Mordor?"

A hand lashed out and grabbed her throat. Ice, cold fingers made her skin shudder despite the leather glove clutched around her neck. She made no move to fight back and looked at him defiantly, able to see her reflection in his dark sunglasses. She could see the others behind him shifting uncomfortably, uncertain whether or not his actions were wise.  She could hear his hoarse breath, it sounded like brittle wind in the shadow dark. She felt the air forced out of her lungs, his vise like grip pressing her larynx against her spine.

"You presume too much, human," he glowered, his voice oozing with malevolence. "You would do well to remember with whom you are speaking."

"I know perfectly well to whom I speak," Irina answered, unafraid, even if his grip made speech an ordeal. His weight was forcing her into the chair, holding her in place so that he could convey his sense of power.  He was about to learn that power was a matter of perception.

"Go ahead kill me," she challenged, "take my life if you will. I am certain killing a human isn't exactly a novel experience for you."

"You mock me?" The fingers around her throat tightened, making her lungs protest with a dry heave and caused her vision to blur.  "I have killed, more than you can possibly imagine. You think sharing the Masters shell allows you the right to think of us as your servants? We are his will, we exist in tandem with his own dark self.  He is apart of us and we are apart of him in a way no mortal can understand, even one who plays his whore."

"That may be," she croaked, "but just you remember that he exists in a human shell and without this whore, you'll never get him back. Go ahead and kill me. Take your chances on getting him away from Valinor yourselves. The minute you attempt to reach its shores, the Valar will annihilate you.  You are not Maiar, you're an abomination, a mistake that he created.  All you can do is wait, wait here for him to return, feel his power diminishing every day and by the same token, yours as well.  In his state, he will be dead in less than twenty years. That's two decades of you lingering in this world, neither living nor dead, a shadow losing power to effect anything. Without him, you are fading away, even now.  So go on and kill me, it won't make any difference that my plan may be the only chance we have of bringing him back to us. You're Nazgul and I'm just a human."

The fingers clenched hard in fury and Irina almost lost consciousness when she felt the hatred behind them.  However, the spasm was brief and when it was over, he released his hold upon her, allowing her to sink back into the chair, gasping and coughing, her hands reaching for her bruised throat, massaging the flesh as if that would allow her to breathe faster. A snarl of frustration escaped him, an even more terrifying sound than his voice. However, Irina was too triumphant by her efforts to remind him of his situation to notice.

"Now, that you've done with your posturing," she croaked at Morgul who had retreated from her desk to join his brothers. "You will go to Norway.  Apparently, Eric Rowan and Jason Merrick were seen at Keflavík International Airport boarding a Lufthansa flight to Oslo this afternoon.  I think they are attempting to take the object to the university where most of the researchers originated. They need to know what it is and the best way to do that is to find the leading authority on the subject. They'll be seeking a man called Hans Skogull. You will go there and deal with this matter once and for all and Professor Skogull as well. Is that within your abilities to manage?" She asked derisively.

"I have chosen not to kill you," Morgul said to her, already starting towards the door with the rest of his brother following close behind. "Do not assume that choice is not subject to change. When the Master tires of you, you are mine."

With that, the Nazgul left her office, leaving Irina more shaken than she would care to admit but satisfied that they needed her too much for his threat to be anything but empty while David was still lost to them.

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