Chapter Eight

  Conversations

Sam tried not to look at them.

If he did, he would just get afraid and that would make him cry.  He did not want to cry, not in front of them.  Also, he needed to be strong for Pip who was crying and had good reason to do so because they were in a great deal of trouble.  His brother was understandably frightened out of his wits after these creatures had dragged them from their school.  Pip had not stopped crying since they had seen their father trying desperately to beat down the doors of the car to reach them. Sam did not weep but his thoughts were fixed upon their mother and the despaired look on her face when she knew she could not help them.  In all his life, he had never seen her that way and he would be just as content if he went for the rest of it without having to see that expression again. He tried to ignore the growing dread in the pit of his stomach knowing these creatures had frightened their mother.

Nothing frightened her.  At least until now.

"It's alright Pip," Sam said holding his brother closer to him, "we'll be okay.  Mum and dad will find us soon enough."

The creature sharing the backseat of the vehicle with the two children did not react to this hope.  In fact there was very little that they did react to other than the strange storm of light that had occurred earlier when all the lights had gone out inside the building the creatures had taken them to after their kidnapping.  Then they had howled in pain like something terrible was tearing through them and though the moment lasted briefly, Sam had to wonder what had hurt them because knowing might give him and Pip a way to escape.

And they had to escape, somehow.

Even now, they were moving farther away from the city in a car that looked very old, likes the ones he saw on the black and white TV shows that run during the day.  He liked Mr. Ed and being seven, had convinced himself that the reason that horses didn't speak was because they had very little to say.  The car seemed to be unaffected by the destruction he saw outside, the destruction that further drove home the imperative of escaping these creatures to return to mum and dad.

The path they traveled was black. Illumination came from the torches carried by people moving in the streets and the small fires that had was spread intermittently across the city. He saw cars that had smashed into each other and against other things and the world outside resembled those faraway places on the news where there was always fighting. The ones mum and dad always argued about whether they ought to be allowed to see. His father claimed that their exposure to bad things on TV would make them de-sen-si-tized, Sam was not quite certain of the word. While his mother on the other hand, believed that bad things happened anyway without TV and it was equally bad to be unaware that it existed.

The arguments usually ended with them kissing and breaking open a bottle of wine with Sam and Pip being sent promptly to bed.  Sometimes, his parents could be very strange.

Strange or not, the need to see them was overwhelming. He wanted to feel his dad's reassuring voice telling him that everything was all right and mum's embrace.

"What if they don't find us?" Pip stuttered through his tears.

"They'll find us," Sam said with more confidence than he felt, "look at how mum made Aksel leave us alone? She won't leave us alone like this for long."

One of the creatures in the front seat snorted at this and it was the first reaction that Sam had seen it make that would indicate that it was alive. Even though they appeared as men in their dark suit and strange white masks, he knew without any doubt that they not human. It was more than simply knowing this to be the truth but feeling it in his bones as a sensation saturating every pore of him.  He knew who they were even if he was too terrified to say it out loud. To speak the words would make it more than just truth, it would give his fear shape and form.

Black riders.

"No one will find you," one of them spoke, a low, hissing voice that felt like icicles against his spine. Sam shuddered at hearing it and saw Pip cringing deeper into his seat at the beast's voice.

"Our mum will find us," Sam said defiantly. He needed to be brave because if he were not brave then Pip would have even more reason to fear. His brother was too small, too young to be able to withstand the black evil before them.  It never occurred to Sam that he was not so old himself.  He could not see past the fact that he was seven and older to recognize his limitations.

The creature stiffened at the claim as if there was something about it that drove a sharp point through his skin. He turned his pasty white face towards Sam and the young boy felt his resolve shake at the sight of himself reflected in those dark glasses.

"She is nothing," he returned, "just a mortal wrapped in fragile flesh.  When I am done with her, I shall strip it off her bones like an onion. You may watch if you wish."

"No!" Pip started to cry harder.  The imagery overloading his childlike sensibilities.

"Stop it!" Sam shouted impotently as the beast, not caring about his fear and trying his best to console his brother.

Pip had buried his face in his hands and although his face was hidden beneath the mask, Sam was certain that he was smiling beneath his pasty facade. Sam wished he were not so small, he wished he could hurt him.

"My mum will get us back," he said in a voice not quite his own, "she'll get us back and make you pay for taking us away."

"She can try," the creature replied, gazing at his companions in the car, "she can try."

***********

It took them almost three hours to walk half way across the city to reach Hans' home on the edge of Oslo and even while they did, they saw how widespread the damage caused by the Silmaril had been.  People were moving about the streets in dazed astonishment, surrounded by the destruction that had come upon them so suddenly.  Fire still raged and many structures were devoid of power.  Civil authorities were attempting to establish some form of order and as they reached the outskirts of the city, saw the arrival of vehicles that had escaped the wave from other parts of the country. Fortunately, it appeared that the destruction was limited to Oslo and some of the surrounding urban centers.  Other major cities like Bergen and Tondheim had escaped unscathed and were sending aid.

"What it is like to be immortal?" Jason asked Elladan as they followed Frank and the urban environment around them began to thin into vegetation.  So many still questions lingered in his mind even though Elladan and Elrohir had explained themselves as best as could be managed under the circumstances. Nevertheless, from the moment he had laid eyes on the artifact, something about it had captured his imagination. Although he could not recognize for what it was, he knew that he could not allow the Nazgul to acquire it despite being unaware of their true natures at the time.  Even when Eric thought he was insane, Jason had clung to his belief that the artifact was special.


In his wildest imaginations, he had never suspected just how special it truly was.

The elf did not look at her as he pondered the question and tried to think of an answer that would make sense to a human from one who would never know what it was to fear the Doom of Men.  

"Long," Elladan said after a moment. "Endless at times."

His answer surprised Jason for the younger man had expected it to be illuminating and even enlightening. He did not know at what point his acceptance of the elf's claims of immortality had slipped into the comforting realm of belief. However, Jason suspected his mind had already opened itself to a great many impossibilities when the artifact had come into his possession. The origin of the Silmaril was not so improbable when his mind was already open to the possibility that the artifact was something out of this world.

"It must be worth it though," Jason stared at the elf, unable to imagine it could be anything else, "to live forever." 

To be ageless was something man aspired to for as long as he had sentience enough to understand the nature of death.  Everything that existed in life was somehow interconnected to this incontrovertible reality from which there was no escape. Men built empires to defeat it, created great works of art and literature that would survive long after they were gone to endure the inevitability of dying.  It must be terribly liberating to free of that limitation, to know that there would be always be a tomorrow and not fear that time was finite.

"Sometimes," Elladan said quietly.  "I have lived for over hundred thousand years in a place that allows my race to remember everything. Every moment, every face, every sorrow remains fixed in our hearts. We carry it forever and go on knowing that the world will change around us and we will remain the same.  There are times when it is comforting and other times when there is nothing but sadness at knowing the things we cherish, not of elf kind, will eventually wither and die.  We are the ones who are always left behind and there was time when I thought that we were fortunate in this, now I am no longer so certain. You humans burn brightly for a short time but you burn.  We have lived so long that we no longer remember what it is like to feel the fire."

"I never thought of it that way," Jason replied and supposed that Frank, being the archaeologist among them, would probably agree with his sentiments.  A race had to evolve to progress. If there were no more challenges, no more hurdles to cross, then one would simply exist, instead of living. People wasted their lives never understanding the difference.

"And it is hard to see friends who are not like us die, leaving us with the knowledge that there will be no reunion in an afterlife. When we left Middle Earth to go into West, my sister remained behind because she loved a mortal man and she chose to accept his fate as her own.  For a hundred thousand years, her loss was a wound upon us that does not diminish with time and with elves, whose keen eyes and mind remember everything, there is not even the respite of forgetfulness."

"Did you know me?" Jason asked quietly, seeing the sadness in his eyes and wishing he had not brought up the subject because it was a profound sorrow that had marked the elf more than he would probably care to admit to a person he had only met hours ago. "The person that I was I mean."

Elladan smiled.

"Oh yes," Elrond's son replied, instantly plunged into the memory of the hobbits and their enthusiastic manner.  What a delight they had been during those months in Imlardis when they waited to embark upon the quest. Despite having such a terrible burden to carry, the hobbits had brought joy to the elves who had not thought it possible to see any race save other than themselves, so perfectly content and happy to be who they were.  "Merry and his companions were greatly admired by my people and I did know him personally. My associations with the Master of Buckland were not as binding as that of Eomer Eadig but I remember him to be brave and fearless."

"Fate has a funny sense of humor," Jason remarked shaking his head as he glanced at Eric who was walking a few steps ahead, "I trust Eric with my life.  He had gone through five cameramen by the time I came along. I was certain I wasn't going to last a week with him but he took me under his wing from the moment we met and while he makes me want to throttle him at times, he is my friend. Now I'm wondering maybe its because we're predestined to be friends."

"My sister," Elladan said thinking of Eve's words, "claims that the souls of men are drawn to the friendships and attachments made in previous existences. A great friendship in one lifetime may simply be rekindled in the next. Souls are able to recognize each other, in much the same way that soul mates are bonded."

"I like that," Jason grinned, "I don't remember being this 'Merry' though."

"It does not matter that if you cannot," Elladan said soothingly, "what matters is his soul belongs to you now and it is your will that shapes it in this life."

"And it must be strange for you," he added, "I mean seeing people who have been dead and gone, reincarnating again."

"It is actually of a great pleasure to me," Elladan answered sincerely. "I thought that we would be doomed to say goodbye to our mortal friends for all time but now I know that it is only a temporary parting that someday, we will find each other again just as I have found my sister and all of you."

"Your sister came back as a human?" Jason exclaimed. "What is she like?"

"Well," Elladan chuckled, trying to describe Eve as best he could, "she's a good deal more assertive than she used to be, stronger than I ever imagined possible in character and spirit but somehow, she has completely lost her singing voice."

"Her singing voice?" Jason laughed.

"Yes," he nodded, "in the day, she used to sing with such beauty that some said it was comparable to Luthien herself.  In her human guise, her skill has been decidedly less.  Her one effort to try made every human who dwelt on Valinor grateful they did not possess our ear for song. Still," Elladan met the human's gaze, "it is a joy to have her in our lives again."

"Just as long as she doesn't sing," Jason chuckled.

"Eru himself could not bear it," Elladan retorted.

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

When they arrived at Hans' home, it was empty as Frank expected it to be.

The house had been in Hans' family for a long time and sat at the edge of the city, facing the sea on one side and the encroaching vegetation on the other.  Frank had chosen the place because it was in a relatively isolated place where it would be difficult for the enemy to track them. As Hans lived alone, there was also no danger of neighbors noticing that someone was occupying his home in his absence. While Frank did not intend on remaining at the place for long since like Miranda, he was eager to look for Sam and Pip, at present they needed a place to sit out the night and decide their strategy.

As he entered the darkened timber home with its polished wood floors, Frank was grateful for the flashlight they had acquired during their journey here.  With the citywide power blackout, he did not expect any of the lights to be working and prayed that Hans had at least candles somewhere on the premises.  Fortunately, it appeared that Hans had something better. Entering through the front door, having found the spare key the old man kept under his front doormat, they saw fixtures against the wall.  The original lamps that used kerosene still clung to the walls and it took only a little bit of exploration in Hans' garage to bring the house to some measure of illumination.

The interior of the premises was very much the home of an aging archaeologist with too many bookshelves, artifacts displayed in cases in the study and through the halls.  Frank took a deep breath and smelled old leather and the distinct fragrance of musty old books.  Like a library, he thought and felt completely at ease within its confines.  However, what comfort he felt was temporary because being in this place, reminded him that Hans was gone and he was an intruder in a dead man's home. Perhaps it was for the best, he thought to himself as he and the others went through the motions of settling themselves within the house. At least, Hans did not have to know that everything that he and Frank had held sacred all their lives was on the verge of being proved as great a as the Ptolemic Celestial Model.

Elrohir had gone to the fireplace to light a fire and fill the house with heat because even in the warmer seasons, Norway was a cold climate. Miranda had gone to the kitchen to see what food Hans had in the fridge, probably for something to do. His wife needed to keep busy in order to stop herself thinking about Sam and Pip and Frank could understand that sentiment because he wanted to rush out and find his sons as much as she did. However, he knew that they could not approach that particular problem without a plan and the enemy was perfectly aware that he would demand his sons' safety in exchange for his cooperation, so for the moment at least, they had time.

It was a slim hope at best but it was the only thing that Frank could cling to at this moment.  Miranda's sanity was poised on a knife's edge. Even now as he looked into her eyes, he could see the fear in her eyes expounded by the demons of her past.  At the core of all that fear was the numb feeling of powerlessness and right now, while they were at the mercy of the Nazgul in regards to the welfare of their children, she must be feeling doubly so.  Frank had remained strong for her but he was just as anxious as she was and despite his brave words of formulating a plan to get the children back, in truth he had no idea where to begin.

Staring at a bookcase in the hall, Frank's eyes drifted over the volumes of text Hans had acquired over the years.  Some were leather bound, others were soft backs, their repeated use evidenced by the creases running through their spines. Stand close enough to one of them and you could detect a faint whiff of damp paper and old leather, Frank thought as his fingers traveled along the shelf, as if the tactile contact would afford him wisdom he did not have. 

Once upon a time, these books had been all the knowledge in the world, now they were next to useless because everything he thought he knew was false. How could he engineer a plan to rescue their children when he had been so wrong? How could he trust himself to make any judgement after failing so utterly to understand the true nature of humanity?  There were elves in the next room, elves! Dragons, dark lords and dwarf kingdoms were not fiction. They were the reality. It was everything else, Homo Erectus, Homo Habilis, Australopethicus Gracile, those were the myths.

"Frank," he heard a voice interrupt his conflicted thoughts.

He looked up to see Elrohir staring at him in concern.

"I was just looking at these books," Frank replied turning his gaze back to the shelf. "My entire life is on these shelves you know."

Elrohir drew in a deep breath, aware of what made this human feel so terribly lost.  It was so much easier to understand Bryan, Elrohir thought because like him, Bryan had a warrior spirit.  In some ways, Frank reminded him of Elladan though he was certain neither would be able to see the similarities. Frank was brave and determined for certain but there was an understanding in his psyche that made him able see things with far more accuracy than his aggressive brother. Bryan believed force was the way to cure all ills, while Elrohir suspected that for Frank it was comprehension.

Faramir of Ithilien had been the same way.


It had always been Estel's belief that of the two sons of Denethor, it was Faramir who was best suited to rule because he had a temperament that could govern men beyond the battlefield, where else Boromir knew war and little else. The One Ring had taken Boromir because he did not understand it and that was fatal in light of the power it exuded. A military man, he could think of nothing but using that power even with the best of intentions, where else his brother had understood what the One Ring was and was able to save himself from its terrible distraction.

"What we have revealed to you, does not change who you are," Elrohir said gently, suspecting that his words would do little good. He had no argument that could make this easier for Frank to bear.

"Doesn't it?" Frank met his gaze. "I have spent my entire life in search of truth, using the evidence to build an answer. In one day, I have found that not only am I wrong but all those who came before me were similarly mistaken. My profession is now the academic equivalent of astrology! Nothing that I know or have been taught is true. Humans did not become what we are through a process of evolution and change, we simply appeared out of nothing!  Three million years of artifacts are now the skeletal remains of some subspecies you call Orcs, not us at all!  Even if we get my children back and we return to some semblance of a normal life, what is there left for me? I can't go back to my work because its meaningless!"

"I am sorry," Elrohir replied, not knowing what else to say.  He wished his father were here. Elrond would have the words to make this easier for Frank to accept.   "It had been our fondest desire that you remained oblivious to all this. When we came to visit you, it was only for the intention of ensuring your safety, not revealing the truth."

"It isn't your fault," Frank sighed in frustration. "If you had not been here then a good number of us would be dead and I would be in the hands of those Nazgul. I don't blame you for telling me the truth because as much as I hate the truth, I hate the lie even more. You have opened a world for me that I know nothing about, a world I couldn't even begin to imagine.  How am I supposed to trust myself to make any rational decision when I couldn't see past the fallacy?"

"You think that your people are the only ones entrenched in a lie? My people have been sequestered in a paradise for the last one hundred thousand years. We have not encountered any other race since our departure from Middle Earth. We lived as if trapped in amber, going from day to day, with nothing to look forward to, no reason to change or strive for more. Look around your world, you have accomplished much. We may object to its form but your people have done something. All mine have done is grow complacent and bored. Our young see no challenges, no hurdles to cross, we lived like penned animals.  At least, you have entered the oblivion of unknowing without intention, we willing entered our cages."

"A race must evolve," Frank found himself saying, understanding all too well the danger of stagnancy. "You are here though, you crossed the sea."

"Yes," Elrohir nodded, "only because the Valar decided that it was necessary for us to do so after seeing how your race has progressed. They understood the need we ourselves had not the courage to admit it. You see," he took a step closer to Frank, "you are not the only one who feels blind, in some ways, my people feel it too. Perhaps when this is all done, you may open their eyes to what they can be instead of what the world has made them."

 "Maybe I will," Frank nodded, his feelings of doubt had not passed but at least now he knew that he was not the only one who felt lost.

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

Miranda had to do something.

If she did not keep her mind occupied, she would inevitably find her thoughts hurling towards her sons' welfare and another bout of despair was something she did not need to indulge again. Tomorrow, when there was light and they had the resources at their disposal that would ensure that any rescue attempt did not end in failure, she would think about them. For now, she had to maintain her composure and her sanity by keeping herelf occupied.  If she gave in to the feeling of helplessness and fear taunting her from the edge of her consciousness, she would be no good to anyone, least of all Sam and Pip.

She moved about the kitchen, finding food because her training had returned in full force since this had all began.  When exposed in uncertain territory, the first order of business was to find food and ensure that everyone's strength was kept up.  A good meal may not come again for sometimes and it was prudent to store energy reserves in the body for that eventuality.  Being a bachelor, Hans' diet seemed to consist mostly of tinned food that was easy to make. Unfortunately, the oven was electric which did not impress her much and forced her to use the antiquated potbelly stove that sat at the corner of the room for mostly decorative purposes.

After wrestling with it for a good twenty minutes and threatening it impotently with the gun that she had ran out of bullets for long before this, Miranda finally managed to coax a flame into being.  For everyone's sake, she hoped that the pipe that led into the ceiling was not blocked or it was going to get smoky very fast.  Miranda waited for the stove to become hot enough to cook, enjoying the increasing heat radiating from its small grilled furnace.  After being in Africa for a good part of a decade, she had become accustomed to warm weather and the cold had affected her and the children especially, even after six months in Oslo.

"You seem to have the best seat in the house," she heard a voice over her shoulder and glanced behind her long enough to see Eric entering the kitchen.

"I'm waiting for this ancient piece of rubbish to warm up so I can make some tea," Miranda replied.

"Tea," Eric cracked a smile, "I haven't heard dinner called that since I went home to visit my mum."

"Bloody Australians," she retorted with a bemused smile, "you pick up too many Americanisms. It must be all that sun."

"Bondi boy through and through," he answered picking up one of the cans she intended on feeding them as he reached the counter she was leaning against.

"I went to Bondi about twelve years ago," Miranda remarked casually, "nice beach."

"Nice?" He raised a brow. "It's one of the best beaches in the world. Top place for surfing."

"I'm guessing you're a little homesick?" She met his eyes with a critical look.

"Guilty," he said without contest. "Does it show that much?"

"Not really," Miranda turned away, returning her gaze to the burning embers within the stove. "I'm just good at seeing these things."

"I'm sure you are," Eric nodded, believing it. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," she said a little too quickly, telling him more than she intended with that one word. "I'll be fine."

"We'll get them back Miranda," he assured her, "don't think any differently."

"I'm not," she declared, her jaw tightening as she spoke, "I'm going to find my boys and then I'm going to make the bastards who took them pay in blood."

"I get the feeling that you weren't always a housewife," he remarked and earned a sharp glare from her.

"I don't know what you mean," Miranda feigned ignorance even though she could care less whether he knew the truth about her past or not. When one was faced with the unimaginable loss of one's children, it mattered little the others things she considered important.

"I think you do," Eric met her eyes. "I saw how you fight and that's not something you learn at some self-defense class you might go to while the kids are at school. I'm a journalist, I've been to Sarejevo, Chechyna and even the Gulf. I know what Special Forces training looks like. When you fight, you don't fight to defend, you fight to cripple. If those Nazgul had been anything than what they were, you would have killed them all."

"I had him," Miranda declared, her voice becoming as hard as flint, "dead."

"Yeah," Eric nodded in agreement, remembering the sound of those bullets tearing through the Nazgul at point blank range and then seeing the creature stand up despite it.  Until that moment, Eric had not truly appreciated the sinister malevolence of what he and Jason had faced. "Think of it this way, you killed him once already."

"I guess," Miranda frowned, not certain of what to make of this whole idea of a past life.  Of everything the twins had told them, it was the notion that she had been some warrior maiden a hundred thousand years ago which she found hardest to believe.

"Still having a little trouble believing you're the Shield Maiden?" He could not help tease but then supposed he was in no position to offer taunts, not when the elves believed him to the reincarnation of an ancient king named Eomer.

"Shield maiden," Eowyn shook her head at the thought. "Sounds too Wagnerian for my liking actually but its not as hard to believe that you might have been my brother."

For a moment they simply stared at each other.  Two people lost in the same myth, trying to see past the barriers of their present personalities to seek out the people they may have been in the past. Whether or not it was to re-establish the familial bond between them, neither could say but Miranda could not deny that when she looked into his eyes, there was something that about him that made her lower her guard.  She did not take to strangers very often and even though their insane situation had created bonds between them, she still should have been able to keep him at a distance.

She should have but she did not.

She was already at ease around him and that surprised her. After Belfast, it took time for Miranda to accustom herself to the presence of strange men in her life. Frank and to a lesser degree, Bryan had been the only exceptions to this rule. Once she got to know the men in question, Miranda's barriers would lower, as it had been when Elladan and Elrohir had first come to stay. However, with Eric it was different. She was talking to him and their conversation was not merely obligatory but meaningful because she found herself speaking about her fears.  In the service, she was taught not to give up secrets or weaknesses because invariably they could be used as weapons. The fact that she was talking so freely, a journalist of all things, surprised her.

"Do you believe it?" Eric asked, having come to the conclusion that it was quite something to gain this woman's respect.  For the first time in this life, he had met a female he could not charm, whom he was quite certain was capable of seeing through all his bullshit before he opened his mouth to utter it.  It was rather intimidating to lose that edge over the opposite sex but also somewhat liberating.  There was no need for the games played between the genders, no reason for sexual innuendo and any of the complexities that made relationships between men and women so difficult.  Jason had once said that he was the way he was because he had been raised in a male dominated household.

Eric supposed that was not untrue. He had been raised in the city but his father was a country boy and in the bush where weakness could break you a dozen times before the sun set that day, his father had been a product of his environment.  Eric's father had been tempered by the property in Victoria but not even he could hold a candle to Eric's adoration of his grandfather Theo who always seemed larger than life.  Theodore Rowan had been the traditional Australian grazier who had acquired his large property by working hard every day of his life. Eric had adored him. His grandmother, he barely remembered and his mother, who was similarly overshadowed by the personality of his father, had made little impression on Eric. Perhaps that is why he had such a disposable attitude towards women.

Of course there were women who did fade into the background and Eric had never really known how to relate to them.  He always felt it easier to charm and seduce them but always remained at minimum safe distance to never let on that he understood very little about them.  Eric wondered if it would have made any difference at all to his life, if he had been an older brother to a sister.  Now as he looked at Miranda and felt connections he could not explain, it was dawning on him that this might possibly be the only chance he would ever have to experience such a thing.

"I don't know," she finally answered. "Personally, I have enough difficulty dealing with a flesh and blood sister, than a spiritually reincarnated brother."

"Tell me about it," Eric retorted, "yesterday, I was an only child. Now it looks like I have a sister that could bloody well kick my ass if I'm not careful."

Miranda chuckled, "well I was always certain that my parents came home with the wrong baby when they brought my sister home because we never got along."

"What's she like?" Eric asked.

"Bitchy," Miranda answered without hesitation.

"So its a deep relationship then," he met her gaze with a mischievous glint and caused her to laugh.


"Yes," she answered, grateful for the diversion, even if it was fleeting. "We were never close. It's not her fault or mine; we're just terribly different. Sam and Pip are the same way..." she started to stay before drifting off into silence when the mention of their names surfaced the anguish she felt in her heart.

"Hey," Eric reached for her arm, "Miranda, we'll find them."

"God I hope so," Miranda replied, feeling her emotions overwhelm her for a moment. She had to choke back the lump in her throat as she thought of her two sons, her babies. "I can't stand it Eric," she met his eyes and a glimmer of moisture appeared in her own, "it's like having a part of yourself torn away and while its gone, there's nothing there but emptiness. I can still smell them on my clothes from their hugs when I dropped them off at school..."

"Miranda," Eric declared with more assurance than he felt, "your husband's a pretty smart bloke and he's figured it out right. These Nazgul need Sam and Pip alive, they can't get their master back without Frank and for Frank to cooperate, its in their best interest to make certain no harm comes to either of them."

Miranda wanted to believe that, she truly did but she also knew people, especially the darker parts of their nature. The Nazgul were the living embodiment of this shadowy reflection and no matter how logically she argued this in her head, she was still a mother and being a mother did not always make one rational when it come to the safety of one's children.

Miranda drew a deep breath, wishing to purge herself of these emotions but reluctant to do it before Frank because her husband was wrought with the same despair that she was and Miranda did not want to make him feel worse. Frank was keeping himself together because his family needed him and Miranda knew that when he claimed they needed time to formulate a plan, she had no doubt that he would.  She loved him deeply but she also knew the ruthless logic that existed beneath his scholarly interior. If there was a way to get their children back, Frank would find it and Miranda had no intention of impeding his progress by burdening him with her emotional outbursts.

"You know," she raised her eyes to Eric, not certain how she was able to trust him but knowing that she could, "all his life, Sam's had bad dreams. He always dreamt of being chased in the night, of dark things following him in the woods. I thought it was just a child's nightmares, though I could never imagine where it came from.  I told him that none of it was real. I told him that there were no monsters lurking in the dark and he believed me.  I was wrong Eric, there are monsters and they took him. What must he be thinking?"

"You told him what is true most of the time," Eric said soothingly, "I thought the same thing myself. I stumbled into this thinking that this was all just another story, a punishment really for what I'd done back in Sydney."

"What did you do?" Miranda was forced to ask.

"I was sort of caught with my bosses' wife at a company 'do'. He wasn't impressed and sent me and Jason to Iceland instead of the Gulf," he said somewhat embarrassed.

Miranda chuckled, "were you drunk or just stupid?"

"I say drunk, Jason says stupid," he replied, not at all offended by her amusement.  In the light of everything they had experienced in the last 24 hours, what happened in Sydney had ceased to be as important as it had been when they first arrived in Iceland.

"I'd listen to him," Miranda returned with a straight face," he's on the right track."

Eric cracked another smile, "so this what having a sister is like? I'm glad I'm not missing out."


"Don't worry," she replied turning back to the kitchen counter, "there'll be lots of time for me to tell you how much of a pig you are."

"I'm not a pig," Eric protested. "I just have no control when it comes to the opposite sex besides," he grinned. "What can I say?  I'm charming."


Miranda rolled her eyes, "that's one way to put it."

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

Leaving Oslo behind them, the vehicle in which Sam and Pip were trapped drove for most of the night. At some point, Sam could no longer stay awake and he fell asleep, only to be assaulted by terrible dreams that were nowhere as terrifying as the nightmare of his reality.  In the dreamscape, there had been some comfort in knowing the darkness pursuing him would end with waking but now, waking held no solace for the enemy had escaped its boundaries and was waiting for him.  Pip had found it easier to sleep and Sam was grateful for this when he awoke and found his brother still very much lost to his slumber.

Beyond the tinted windows of the car, he saw the sunshine beginning to bathe the land. He did not know how far they had driven but it felt like a great distance. The terrain outside looked nothing like the city or country he had known. He could not read the signs and felt a deeper sense of dread because the language did not look like the one he had become familiar with in Norway.  To his dismay, Sam realized that they were in another country and the threat by their kidnappers that mum and dad would never find them became more ominous inside his mind. He made no mention of this to Pip nor did he see any reason to wake his brother up with this discovery. Pip would only be frightened by the news and Sam had trouble enough trying to keep control of his own fears, let alone add to the disintegration of his brother's.

He knew at some point during the night, they had crossed a body of water. He remembered this because he had been groggily aware of hearing waves sloshing against something.  Sam bore his alarm in silence, certain that showing his fear would give their captors more satisfaction and the innate hatred he felt for them would not permit him to give them that pleasure. They were now in the mountains. Beyond the windows he could see mountains, lush and green, rolling high above a valley that was home to a sapphire vein of river. It was beautiful to look yet so unlike the arid landscapes of Africa that Sam had spent most of his young life.

They had stopped during the journey, long enough for Sam and Pip to be fed and allowed the use of facilities. The creatures had kept close eye on them, never affording them enough privacy to escape or get help.  Somehow, Sam suspected that asking a stranger to help would only end in disaster, so the few excursions beyond the vehicle had gone by without incident although there were moments when he had been sorely tempted to run. However, with an intuition he did not understand, Sam knew that these creatures had hunted him a long time and were not about let him slip through their clutches now that he was finally in their power.

"Where are you taking us?" He asked for the hundredth time since his incarceration. They were not fond of answering him but childish persistence did not know the meaning of the word surrender and in Sam the trait was particularly strong.   Pip stirred slightly at the sound of his voice but not enough to awake.

His captors did not answer and while one of them had addressed him at the onset of this journey, he note that they did not speak a great deal, even to each other.  However, when they did communicate it was when they thought he and Pip were asleep.  Sam had listened to their words and though much of it made little sense to him, some things became clear and gave him some idea as to how to manipulate the situation.

"Why can't you say where we're going?" Sam asked, determined to get some kind of a response.

The silence forward.

"Are we near yet?" He insisted, deciding to indulge in the behavior that would normally have his father jamming his foot on the accelerator and threatening to turn the car around if he and Pip did not behave. Leaning back into the chair, he began kicking gently the seat in front of him.  The Nazgul seated in it straightened and cast a look at him. Sam stared back unrepentant but wisely stopped kicking.

"Are we there yet?" He asked once more and made the Nazgul face forward again, seething in annoyance even if he said nothing to indicate it.

Sam's eyes narrowed as he stared at them, trying to think of more ways to engender a response and resorted once again to the things that his parents found most irritating. Digging his fingers into the leather of the seat, his nails against the upholstery made a decidedly unpleasant squeaking sound. Once again, the Nazgul reacted to this and spurned Sam on.  He continued to do so, pretending not to notice the irritation of those around him.

"Sam," Pip stirred out of his sleep, "what are you doing?"

"Nothing," Sam replied, his eyes fixed on the Nazgul as he resumed kicking, much to his brother's puzzlement.

"Are we there yet?" Sam asked again and finally forced the Nazgul who had threatened him and his mum to face him.

"If you do not cease this noise, I will split open your belly and scoop out the insides," his dark glasses gleamed with Sam's reflection, his voice full of menace.


"No you won't!" Sam bit back. "If you were going to kill us, you would have done it already!"

The creature raised his hand as if prepared to strike but no sooner than he did, one of the others immediately intervened to stay his hand.

"Now is not the time," the cold voice hissed through the small compartment.

The leader of them retreated into his seat once more, his gaze still fixed on Sam. "When the time comes, I will kill you," he said coldly. "Make no mistake on that, Ringbearer."

*********

For Irina Sadko, the plan had been simple.

After Aaron Stone and Bryan Miller had taken David from her, she had scoured England with the aid of the Nazgul, for any traces of their whereabouts, hoping that she could get to them before they left for the Undying Lands.  Unfortunately, an MI6 agent knew how to go to ground and despite their desperate efforts to find David's abductors, they had failed to stop the inevitable.  The Nazgul had known the instant he had been taken beyond their reach because their powers began to diminish almost immediately.  There was a time when they would have been damn near unstoppable and while they were still dangerous to those they hunted, their power was continuing to fade the longer their connection to David remained severed.

United by the mutual desire to rescue David from his incarceration, the Nazgul had quietly provided her with the control of Malcolm Industries. While the rest of the world believed that David Saeran was here in the hills of the Harz Mountains in Eastern Germany, recuperating from the fire that had destroyed his Romanian residence, Irina sat in charge of Malcolm Industries' vast resources. In the company offices across the planet, she was recognized as David Saeran's associate and it was through her that his orders came.  As far as they were concerned, David Saeran was still running the company even from the seat of his convalescence.   Irina had maintained the illusion since there would be no need for transition if he returned and assumed control once.

Not if, when he returned.

Initially, she had hoped finding a relative of Bryan Miller would allow her into Valinor. After all, it was safe to assume that the Valar would intervene if a family member of one of its heroes were in danger. However, she soon came to the realization that a human life may not hold the same value to the Valar as a god and refuse the coercion. Also, she had no insurance to keep them from imprisoning her as they had done to David if she tried to reach them to make the offer.  The Nazgul could not go in her place because the Valar would know immediately what they were and the wraiths were too valuable a commodity for her to lose.

In the beginning, she had known very little about the mythology that gave birth to Sauron, although she knew about the One Ring and his unsuccessful bid to conquer the lands once known as Middle Earth.  She accepted everything David had told her without question. After all, her love for him did not allow her to doubt.  Besides, he had given her ample proof that he was the god she loved so dearly.  However, if she were to affect his liberation from the Undying Lands, then she would have to know it all. Morgul had aided the gaps in her knowledge begrudgingly.  She knew he disliked her intensely but with his powers and that of his brother waning, he had no choice but to tolerate her.  He had exhausted all avenues of retrieving his master; a fresh perspective even from a human could produce results.

He told her of Middle earth, of the conflicts that preceded the War of the Ring, beginning with Melkor's dominions over earth to the fateful war with the elves that had begun with Feanor's greatest creation. She heard of names like Thingol, Fingolfin and Finrod and the Battle of Unnumbered Tears and Doriath. She also heard of the Silmarils, the jewels crafted by Feanor, one of which now looked upon them from the sky while the others had been lost because of Feanor's sons, Magylor and Maedhros.

The instant she heard the name, she knew she had her answer.

Remembering a brief conversation she had had with David prior to his abduction, she searched the records at Malcolm Industries and found the expedition that David had tried to stop, the one put in place by John Malcolm himself. The project called Maedhros.   David had said that Malcolm was still obsessed by the jewel that had caused the ancient land of Beleriand to be ruined and sunk to the bottom of the sea.  The Silmarils, created from the light of the great trees that had once illuminated the world was what John Malcolm had hoped Petra Tebben's archaeology team would find in the icy depths of Iceland. 

And find it she did.

Unfortunately, by this time Malcolm was dead and David was beyond them all.

Initially, the plan had been to find the Silmaril and use it to reach the Undying Lands. Something of that much value would draw the interest of the Valar, even if they were hiding behind their barrier. Irina had intended to sail to the Undying Lands to barter for David's life. It was a desperate gamble, she knew it. However she loved him and the risk was worth it. Unfortunately, Petra had complicated matters by bringing media attention to the Silmaril, forcing Irina to act.  The Nazgul's efforts to retrieve the jewel had failed with the two journalists, Eric Rowan and Jason Merrick escaping in possession of it. However, she could not believe her good fortune when this unexpected wrinkle had led her to Bryan Miller's brother and his family. 

Being led to them changed everything. 

Now the plan was strengthened beyond her wildest expectations. With his children in her hands, Irina had the bargaining tools she needed.   Frank Miller would go to Valinor, he would entreat the Valar to allow him to return to the world with David because if he failed, she would ensure that he never saw either of his children again.

If she could not have the one loved, then neither could he.

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

After what seemed like an eternity of following the winding path of tar that meandered through the mountains, the vehicle turned into a newly constructed side road. As they traveled this new course, Sam saw large trees on flanking either side, creating a canopy of leaves throughout its length.  The car disappeared beneath this latticework of leaves and branches, speeding up as it reached the end of its journey.  Sam felt his ears pop with the increased altitude, a sensation that made him flinch uncomfortably.  Before the landscape had disappeared behind the trees, he had thought that perhaps they had reached the highest place in the world.

"Its okay Pip," Sam said soothingly, aware that his words had little weight now.  His brother was terribly afraid and despite Sam's earlier bravado, so was he.  They seemed so far beyond the reach of mum and dad that the reality that they may never be found was starting to crowd their young minds. Despite the need to feel hope, Sam was beginning to fear that they may never see their parents again.  Suddenly, dying was no longer the worst thing that could happen to them.

"How will mum and dad find us?" Pip asked in a small voice, his eyes trying not to look at the creatures in the car with them.

"They'll find us," Sam insisted, not daring to believe anything else. "I know it."

"But they don't know where we are," Pip countered, his lip quivering with fear. Sam wish he could say something to alleviate his terror but he could not manage his own fear let alone assuage anyone else's.

Sam did not know how to answer and lapsed into silence. Both children watched anxiously as the car penetrated the canopy of leaves to emerge at a plateau like cliff that seemed to overlook the entire mountain. They may not be at the peak of the mountain but there were certainly high up. Outside, Sam could see lower hills, great tracks of forest and the river cradled in the bosom of the mountain.  It would have been very beautiful if they had not been so frightened.

The structure that sat upon this plateau was a castle. Sam's mind could not see it as anything else.  It was a constructed from red brick, polished smooth with windows framed by statues of what looked like knights.  There were many floors; at least four that Sam could count and the slate grey roof that ran across it was seamlessly tiled. The road came to an end at the front door of the castle, framed on either side by a cobblestone courtyard that held an ornate fountain.  It should have been a pretty place but Sam could only feel dread as he looked upon it.

The car came to a halt before the front entrance where Sam and Pip were quickly ushered out by the creatures that had brought them to this place.  Pip clutched Sam's hands tight as they entered the doorway into the castle and felt immediately a cold draft sweeping over them. Robbed off the sunshine, the innards of this palatial residence felt icy.  Sam wondered if it was really cold or was it just in their heads.

"Where are we?" Sam found his voice as he stood in the front hall, hearing footsteps approaching from other hallways.

"Here," the creature in the dark suit hissed.

"I don't understand," Sam looked around.  "Who lives here?"

A set of doors opened into the front hall from an adjoining room and stepping out of the shadows was a woman. She was very pretty with dark hair and deep brown eyes. She wore a black suit that clung to her shape and revealed long legs on heels.  She saw Sam staring at her and took a step toward them both, driving Pip to take refuge behind Sam in fear.

"I do," she said with a little smile as she paused in front of Sam and Pip and lowered herself to eye level, "my name is Irina and I am very pleased to meet you."

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