Authors note: This was finished very early in the a.m. so it has yet to be proofed, please enjoy the chapter for what it is until the proofed version is posted.

Chapter Twelve

Distractions

The modern world was an odd place.

This much Elladan had decided after two visits. He had been alive long enough to believe that there was very little that was beyond him, immortality had a tendency to make one complacent if not a little arrogant. However, since that fateful journey across the sea in order to find Mithrandir who had been lost in Arda for almost four centuries, Elladan had realized that it was entirely possible for an whole world to evolve so considerably that it was virtually impossible for a strange to comprehend all aspects of it without becoming utterly overwhelmed. It was fortunate that they had found allies in Arda for he could not imagine how they would navigated through this alien and sometimes perilous world alone, to say nothing about bringing Mithrandir home.

Their allies, much to their happiness, were familiar souls cloaked in somewhat recognizable if completely different bodies. Elladan and Elrohir had been particularly pleased to have Undomiel and Estel returned to them, albeit in the form of two humans who had little memory of what they meant to the family of the Peredhill. Others who had not been familiar to them in Middle-earth had become trusted friends in their latest instance, such as Boromir of Gondor who now wore the persona of Bryan Miller and those whom they had encountered more recently such as Eric Rowan who had been Eomer Eadig, King of the Mark.

It was hard to see the man who was leaning against their vehicle in the space provided for such devices, staring into the darkness with thoughts only he was privy to, as a king who had lived and breathed war for most of his adult life. Elladan had never really known Eomer even though in the last years of his time in Middle-earth, their kingdoms lay in closer proximity to each other than most. By then the elves were beginning to distance themselves from their human neighbors, preparing for the time when the last of them left Arda forever. It had been simpler to remain detach in order to avoid the pain of parting and while some associations could not be so abruptly forgotten, others were simply overlooked before they could begin. Thus it was with Eomer and so Elladan had never really known the King of the Mark with any great depth.

Eric Rowan was something else entirely. The last few days had made them allies in a dark quest to save Frank and Miranda's children, while at the same time ensuring that the Silmaril never be delivered to those with evil in their hearts. In some ways, he displayed some of Eomer's most basic character traits, his willingness to help despite the consequences to himself, a fierce determination to do what was right and possessing a deep sense of connection to Miranda at learning that she may have been his sister, long ago. Elladan did not know Eomer beyond that but as he saw Eric alone, shoulders sagging with the weight of sorrow and eyes full of dark anger and tremendous grief, he wished he knew so that he could say the words to make his pain a little easier to bear.

Shortly after the news had come regarding the death of his friend Dominique, it was decided that they should take some hours to rest before embarking on their journey once again. This time, they had a destination to reach and as Elladan studied the place that the children were being held, he found it quite ironic because earlier he and his brother had noted the familiarity of the area with their Middle-earth past during their travels to reach Frank and Miranda. Following their departure from the inn they had been residing, they had traveled for several hours and had come to pause at what Frank had called a 'petrol station'. It appeared to be one of the numerous way stations that the twins had seen since returning to Arda. It was a place where travelers came to nourish their vehicles with fuel needed to continue, whilst being able to eat and use the facilities as well.

While the rest of their company was presently scattered about the area accomplishing this, Eric had opted to remain with their vehicle and those who knew him, understood his reason for wanting a moment alone. Elladan approached the car slowly, not wishing to intrude but the others were not far behind and soon they would resume their quest to find the children. Eric's eyes lifted briefly at his approach before he took a sip from the warm beverage in his cup.

"The others will return soon," Elladan said gently, offering him a warning of sorts.

"That didn't take long," he muttered quietly, still keeping his eyes locked on something only he could see.

"We must hurry, if we are the breach the enemy's enclave we must do while there is still darkness," Elladan answered though he was certain that Eric barely heard his answer.

"I suppose," he nodded.

Elladan took a deep breath, aware that to Eric, the cost of learning their enemy's location was simply to high and the elf would have agreed if he had voiced but it was a deed done.

"Her death is not your fault," he said finally.

"I think it is," Eric answered coolly, reacting little to the discussion of such a personal subject. "If I hadn't called her, hadn't gotten her involved, none of this would have happened. She would still be alive."

"You could not have known that this would result in her death," Elladan said gently. "Do not assume responsibility from those who did spill her blood. They are the ones who ended her life; they are the ones who made the choice to kill another. You did not. What you did was attempt to find your sister's children, an admirable goal."

"Are you sure you have the right bloody person!" Eric barked at him and took a step away before turning around to face Elladan again. "Look at me!" He demanded. "Do I look like a king?"

"Not at all," Elladan replied smoothly, more than accustomed to the outbursts of men whenever it became difficult to express their feelings. "But then you are not Eomer, not any more. You are Eric. Eomer is in your past, you may share his soul and perhaps a distant part of you may remember him in dreams if my sister's experiences are any indication, but you are exactly who you have always believed yourself to be. Learning about Eomer does not change you, it simply adds to the substance of who you are. The only person who can change that is you, not some vague recollection of a past that is not your life to claim."

"So this stuff up is all mine?" Eric looked at him and saw his brow furrow in confusion. "Stuff up - mistake," he explained.

"Ah," Elladan nodded in understanding, "if you mean the burden of her death, yes that is entirely yours but you were not responsible. She chose to help you knowing the risks, did she not?"

"Not fully," Eric confessed. "She thought that I was in danger, it never occurred to her that she might be as well. She was more interested in helping me because of what she felt for me?"

"She was your lady then?" He met Eric's gaze.

"Not exactly," Eric shrugged. "She's someone else's lady, I just borrowed her for a bit and got sent to Iceland."


"I see," the elf answered, never quite understanding how humans could sever their bonding to a mate so easily. For elves, once the bonding was complete, it was permanent. One simply could not shift one's attentions to another so easily. He supposed that it was the manner in which humans coped with their short existence.

"The truth is," Eric said after a long pause, "that I'm not very proud of myself at the moment."

"Why?" Elladan asked sympathetically, indicating his willingness to listen to Eric purge himself of his perceived shame.

"She left her husband because of me, because I meant something to her. It wasn't just a brief affair to her. She cared about me, more than I ever imagined because she was willing to risk her life to help me. To me she was just another a woman I was going to have a good time with. I never intended to remain a permanent fixture in her life. I thought we would have our moment and then go our separate ways, I mean those are the rules right?"

It did not sound remotely proper to Elladan but he was not about to pass judgement. True, in the last hundred thousand years, there had been encounters but both were made with the understanding that these were the pleasure of the flesh shared by two who had found comfort in each briefly. There were no permanent attachments but Elladan was certain that the lady in question knew this before any intimacy was shared. "If you say so," he answered noncommittally.

"But it wasn't that way for her and because she cared about me, she's dead and I'm sitting here thinking about how many others, who wore their hearts on their sleeve only to be disposed when I was done with them. Jason used to say that I had a short attention span when it came to women and he was right, what a bloody prince I turned out to be." Eric said bitterly, the words feeling like ash in his mouth.

"You were not responsible for her death," Elladan offered, searching for the words that would not waste this pain enlightenment that Eric was experiencing because it was indeed profound and would allow him to grow as a person. "That deed was undertaken by Sauron's dark minions. However, take what you have learnt, what she had taught you and allow it to temper the manner in which you regard the next woman who catches your eye. Remember that these rules you take for granted may not be known to the hearts you risk breaking by your presumption."

Eric stared at Elladan absorbing his words, wondering what an elf would know about such things before Eric came to the conclusion that it did not matter whether or not he did, only that he was right. Dominique had cared for him, had seen him as more than just a womanizing bachelor who would probably move on to his next conquest once he had tired of her. She had died for her trouble and Eric would have to live with the consequences of that. However, at the moment, the pain of realization was too raw for him to see anything beyond his sorrow and shame. Perhaps tomorrow, he would think about it with greater depth and try to work things out in his head. Right now, he couldn't face it. The glimpse of himself he had captured through the dark mirror of his understanding was not a image he could stomach and it would be a while before he could cast his gaze into its depths once again.

He was spared having to answer with the arrival of the others and Eric was secretly grateful for that. Perhaps once he could have explained to Elladan the depths of his feelings but that kind of connection to his inner self had died long ago. When he was a real writer who actually sat down at a typewriter and put words to a page, he might have been able to explain the change that had been thrust upon him at Dominique's passing. However, the pure product of his talent had become diluted in the mire of television journalism and the truth that he had always revered was just as disconnected from him as the belief in its ideals.

"You alright?" Jason asked first, carrying a bag of crisps that he was crunching quite loudly in his mouth.

"I'll live," Eric answered as he glanced at Elladan, thanking him silently for the supportive ear, even if it did little to alleviate his grief and shame.

"We'll get those bastards," Jason retorted firmly, a glimmer in his eyes that indicated that despite his casual words, he cared deeply for Eric's state of mind.

"Too bloody right," Eric said shortly and was surprised by how much he meant it. Dominique may not have meant as much as she should have to him in life, but he was determined that her death was going to be for nothing, that her sacrifice meant a great deal to Sam and Pip. He was determined that when those children were rescued, he would tell that.

He owed Dominique that much.

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

There were times she missed him so much that it was a physical sensation.

It was deep this longing for him, an ache that speared through her flesh, impaling her heart with piercing accuracy. She had been lost the moment she had given her body to him and had felt somewhat gratified at the realization that her love had taken him by surprise. He was accustomed to acquiring loyalty by the usual mechanisms employed by men of power, fear, pain and intimidation. His minions obeyed him because they feared his power and recognized his lordship over the dark. When she said she loved him, she suspected it had been the first time anyone had ever said those words to him freely and it pleased that for that moment at least, he had been unable to respond with his usual wit.

Still, she understood that he could never love her back. He was after all a god and one could not expect a god to bestow upon one human such a gift when so much of himself would be lost by its admission. He showed her his affection in his own way and for that Irina would die a thousand deaths for him and do with as much devotion as his Nazgul servants. It pleased her that his feelings for her stayed Morgul's hand when anyone else would die if they spoke to him the way she did. It gave her strength to make the hard choices to get him back, to retrieve him at all costs even if it meant tearing down the walls of heaven and earth to see him again.

The plan which had been so well thought when the Miller children came into her hands was taking some rather unexpected turns. She had assumed that once the children were taken, their parents would wait to be contacted so she could dictate the terms of their release. However, what control she thought she had by having the children brought to her in David's German residence was becoming tenuous at best. This had come about because of the very unexpected awakening of the Silmaril. She had not factored the presence of elves when she had conceived her plan. With Eric Rowan somehow finding his way to Frank Miller, she had assumed that the archaeology would give up the stone in the journalist's possession in return of his children. After all, what parent would risk their children's lives on a jewel that had absolutely no value to him?

However the awakening of the Silmaril had shut down the city of Oslo and so the contact she intended to make with her quarry could not come to pass. Whilst the city remained in its state of limbo, she had no way of tracking them, save sending the Nazgul after them. Thanks to the activation of the Silmaril, there were now too many interested parties honing in on the city and the epicenter of the wave. Her contacts told her that Oslo was at the moment filled with so many operatives of military intelligence from the either sides of the Atlantic, all clamoring to find what had caused a disaster that did not even half the inconvenience of nuclear fallout. She would have sent the Nazgul to find them but where?

It was not until she was notified from their Australian branch that the wife of one of their agents were seeking information regarding the Harz Mountain estate did Irina have some inkling of Frank Miller's present whereabouts. Of course the operative had taken care of the women easily enough. Sydney was a busy city and terminating the life of one woman was hardly an exertion. However, the information she had attempted to secure had provided Irina with undeniable proof regarding the enemy's course.

They were coming here.

It should have pleased her that they were but for some odd reason it did not. Instead of being confident that their arrival here would only allow the Nazgul the opportunity to contain all their enemies in one place, all Irina could feel was this nagging doubt that things were spiraling out of her control. As a scientist, it was an ingrained need for Irina to be in control of every situation. She knew from experience that the experiments that usually went awry were the ones that deviated from its original course and this plan of hers had done so considerably since its inception. She was beginning to reconsider the entire notion of using Frank Miller as bait to draw the Valar's attention. Perhaps it would be simpler if she simply had the entire group killed and took the Silmaril herself to Valinor.

Those who held David captive could not ignore something of such significance and she still had Frank Miller's children, hidden deep in the mines below them. Yes, the plan needed modification but it could still work. With this in mind, she sent for Morgul who had remained with his brothers in the Domain – what he called the Harz Mountain residence, because he was certain that his nemesis would eventually find her way here.

Considering what Irina now knew, she supposed the wraith was not far wrong.

She waited behind her desk as he entered the office, experiencing a chill as always when he was in her presence, despite the sun against her back through the huge window. The pasty white mask gave away nothing and the dark glasses that hid his crimson eyes from the world always added to her discomfort. She wondered how terrifying these creatures must have been when they were at the height of their power and knew it was a dangerous game she played with him. She knew that Morgul in particular disliked her, believing that she was an indulgence his mater could ill afford to have.

"They are coming," Irina replied, mincing no words with him.

His chest filled with air and Irina wondered if these creatures actually breathe or was it just an echo left behind from the memory of the human bodies they no longer possessed.


"I told you this would be so," he said in that slow hissing voice.

"You appear to be correct," Irina answered. "They haven't discovered exactly where we in Germany we are but I would not underestimate them by assuming they will not find out. We should make preparations to receive them."

"We should kill them," Morgul said sharply. "They have become more troublesome than they are worth."

For once Irina agreed with him. "You are right," she nodded and saw him rear his head in surprise. "I would still prefer Frank Miller captured alive, however if that is not possible then do away with him like the rest of his friends. He has become more trouble than he is worth. We still have the children and with them, we can bargain with the Valar. I am certain that Bryan Miller will be more motivated to convince the Valar to release David once he learns that his nephews had been orphaned because of him."

"Yes," Morgul hissed slowly, allowing himself to feel a wave of pleasure at being finally allowed to vent the full measure of his vengeance upon his hated enemy. "We should allow them to make their way underground," he volunteered readily.

"Do you think that our minions below will be able to deal with them?" Irina asked.

"Our lord selected Celebdil as a home for his secondary fortress for good reason. The mountains may appear slight to your eyes but they are very old and their innards hide great depths and host many creatures that will in time service our needs. Those that you can see are only but a few. There are fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world." Morgul responded staring at her hard.

Irina shuddered aware of the ulterior motives that Saeran had in building his fortresses where he had. In Romania, once Mordor, he had constructed his domain on the ruins of Barad-dur, the ancient capital of his kingdom. Here on the peak of the Harz Mountains, which he had often called Celebdil though he would never explain why, he had built this fortress and often allowed Morgul and his brothers to command the creatures existing in the underground caverns below. After the destruction of the Romanian domicile, Irina had sent all the Uruks that had not been killed to the hollow places inside the mountain. David's presence kept the creatures below in check for they were deathly afraid of him. However, his absence made them complacent and thus the arrival of the Uruks had provided a fresh reminder of where their loyalties ought to be.

"I hope you are right," Irina returned. "Your incompetence has cost us dearly already. Too much of this plan has gone astray because you could not recover the Silmaril from two humans."

Morgul hissed loudly, a chilling sound that revealed his anger. He reached across the desk and grabbed her once more, his cold grip against her skin like ice.

"Release me," she ordered as he pulled her across the desk and raised his hand to strike.

"You are nothing but a receptacle for his seed," Morgul hissed. "Do not presume to judge me or my brothers. Our alliance is borne out of necessity. I could kill you now and offer the resources of this organization to another more pliable if I so wish it. I do nothing of the kind for the sake of my master alone. You amuse him and that is the only reason why your head is still connected to the rest of you, flesh sac. Speak to me in the same manner again and I will kill you."

"You wouldn't dare," she glared at him, determined not to be afraid because Morgul like to posture and she had enjoyed David's more brutal expressions of love to be frightened of the wraith's grip on her.

"He knows my value. He will destroy me out of anger and let me vanish to the shadow realm but only a while," he gloated. If Morgul still had flesh, he would be smiling. "When he requires me and when my penance is done, I will serve him again. You however, will be replaced by a younger, preferably less vocal receptacle."

"Let me go!" She barked and then slapped him in good measure, unable to deny that his words cut to the bone more than they should. He barely noticed the blow and returned

He released her roughly, allowing her to fall back into her chair, before releasing a throaty laugh once that was almost as terrifying as his voice. She watched him turn away, the sting of his amusement in her ears as he proceeded out of her office, radiating triumph at winning this serve in their battle of wills.

Inwardly, Irina began to hope that Miranda Miller could manage an encore of their battle at Pelennor Fields and kill the son of a bitch.

***********

Taking a ferry through the channel between Denmark and Germany, they traveled southward trying to beat the sunrise but it became clear that by the time they reached Hanover, they would be exhausted. They had been journeying at a breakneck speed, pausing at intervals to rest or to acquire information or supplies. Considering what they were about to face when they arrived at Saeran's mountain estate, it was unwise for them to make the attempt without acquiring some measure of rest. Miranda could not deny her comrades or her husband the respite because she knew what it was like to enter a combat situation when one was in terrible physical condition.

It was dark when they drove into Goslar, which suited them, fine because few people were awake at that hour of the morning and saw their entry into the community. Hailed as the Gateway to the Harz Mountains, it was a pretty German town with provincial air in its traditional architecture and cobblestone streets. While it was difficult to make any observations of real depth because much of the community was shrouded in darkness, enough was seen of Goslar to make that determination. They checked into the Hotel Hartzeff, which sat at the bottom edge of the woods covering the Harz Mountains. Delightfully luxurious, as most of the hotels were in a tourist town, the comforts provided went a long way to renewing their strength after the arduous few days.

Miranda found herself soaking in the tub, trying to bleed the tension out of her body and knowing that she would not be entirely able to do so, not while her children were lost to her. She was several kinds of aggression waiting to be unleashed and she just knew that if she did not get herself under control, she was going to get herself killed and be utterly no help to her boys. She sat in the tub with its covering layer of foam, her cheeks moist from the steam, thinking about Sam and Pip. What they must be thinking at this moment. She thought of Sam sitting with her in their garden, his small hands working oversized tools, enjoying the simple pleasure of being with mum as they planted flowers. She thought of how quickly he had taken to it, which was odd because he never really showed an interest in working the dirt, when Frank was out on a dig. She missed him beyond her ability to describe and Pip, who was her baby, who still engendered in her that perfect image of an infant cradled comfortably in her arms, made her want to weep.

She had promised to keep them safe. The first time she had looked into Sam's face, she had promised that she would allow nothing to hurt him. After Belfast, after seeing so many dead children killed by bombs and guns, for arguments that held no meaning in this modern day except to those who would shed blood in its defense, she was determined her son would never know that kind of ugliness. When Pip was born, she had made the same vow. She wondered if every parent made that oath the first time.

The tears came before she was even aware of it.


She was sitting in the tub, sobbing loudly into her hands, wondering how she could have failed them. She wanted them to have no black memories, no terrible images to bury away in the night, no walls that kept the truth and the unpleasantness held back. Such walls had a tendency to shut out other things as well and she knew that because of her own, she had been rather disconnected from her children and her husband, no matter how much she loved them.

"Mir," Frank stepped into the bathroom, hearing the sobs from outside the door.

"Oh Frank!" She burst out.


He was at her side in seconds, embracing her hard even though she was wet and covered in soap. She buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed.

"Its alright luv," he said softly, caressing her wet hair, uncertain at what had brought on this burst of emotion but caring only that he could be hear to help her through it. Lord, the love he had for her. The unbelievably fierce emotion that ripped the thought from his mind at any harm coming to her person. Since she walked into his life, he had been in awe and while he knew that she would always be stronger than him in will, that she could these amazing things, even before the kidnapping, he was never threatened by it. Why should he, when his purpose for being was moments like this, to catch her when she fell.

"I miss them so much," she stuttered. "I promised them that I would never allow anything terrible to happen to them and I let those thing take them! I couldn't stop it!"

"It wasn't your fault," he insisted. "I was there, I couldn't stop it either."

"But I should have known!" She pulled away, her face drenched with tears and anguish as she stared at him. "I always knew that something bad was going to happen because that's how the world is, bad. There's always something waiting in the darkness, something that will reach out and break you no matter how much you think everything is going to work out."

"Like Belfast?" He asked.

She paused a moment, her face etched in sorrow and Frank could see the debate taking place behind her eyes, the decision whether or not to trust him with this secret he had all but guessed years before.

"Yes," she nodded slowly, "like Belfast."

"Tell me what happened, Miranda?" He coaxed gently. "Help me to understand."

"It was routine," she said softly, her eyes dropping to the foams covered water, watching the bubbles burst silently into nothingness. "It was just a simple drop. I was to pass Bryan some information. He was my contact back then. I was under deep cover with a splinter IRA group, real fanatics. My mission was to get close to its leader, find out what his plans were. I found out he was going to blow up a government building in town somewhere so I contacted Bryan to pass the details of the bombing so it could be stopped. Unfortunately, it was a trap and we were both caught."

Frank tensed and tried not to show how distressed he was at learning how close his brother had come to death and he had never had the slightest inkling of it. How many times had Bryan walked into the fire without Frank ever being aware of it? Even though they were as close as brothers could be, Frank had noticed the rift that had been created because of Bryan's work. Was this why?

"They almost killed him," Miranda continued, her eyes closed as she saw in her mind's eye what Bryan had endured, the beatings, the electrical shocks and the knives. She remembered seeing his blood across the concrete floor, a sight that still haunted her dreams. She remembered his screams because after two days of continuous torture, he ceased to care who heard him. "Your brother was strong, he didn't tell them anything. He didn't tell them when they took me and tortured me and finally raped me."

She met his gaze then, waiting to see his reaction. A part of her was terrified but a part of her was also relieved that after so long she had finally uttered the words and was even more astonishing, it did not appear that world was coming to an end by his knowing.

"I guessed," Frank replied, reaching for her hand. "First time I met you, I knew it was something like that."

"I should have told you before this," Miranda confessed, fresh tears pooling in her eyes because she had underestimated him when he had done everything to prove his love for her during the past ten years. "I just couldn't bring myself to do it. During the whole thing, I convinced myself it wasn't me, just the person they thought I was - the one who betrayed them. I was staring at Bryan for most of it, terrified that his seeing it was what was going to break him. He cried you know, he cried that he couldn't stop it. That he wouldn't. He knew all he had to do was open his mouth and tell them everything and it would stop but he couldn't."

Frank did not know whether or not he could have sat by and allowed such a thing to happen. He wanted to see his brother to talk about this. The world that Miranda and Bryan lived was a frightening one where the rules of common decency was a blurry line that often did not stand up to scrutiny against the overwhelming importance of their secret agendas.

"I never blamed him for that and I broke free, it was easy to do because those bastards thought that raping me meant I was finished. I wasn't. In the service, we know that it could happen. Being female makes that a reality we live with. I thought if I could push it away somewhere inside me, I would never have to deal with the scars. When Bryan and I broke out of there, after we killed every one of those animals, he couldn't even look at me until I told him I understood. I was Firm, just like him, I knew the rules of game. I thought I handled it well until I got home and started pushing people away, I didn't even realize I was doing it and the more I thought about it, the more I thought it was easier to just end it all. And then one day something happened and everything changed," Miranda stared at him.

"What?"

"You," She smiled faintly, her face covered with streaks. "You came into my life when I needed you most. I don't know if I ever told you how much loving you saved me. You think that what you're finding out about me now is intimidating? What I learnt from you was even more frightening. You showed me that there was more than just walls, that it was okay to feel completely without having to guard emotions or to be in control. You were the best surprise Frank and I don't think I ever told you how much you I love you, for what you taught to me and for the sons you gave me."

Frank captured her lips in a passionate kiss, holding her against him as their bodies met over the edge of the bath. He held her, unaware that there was moisture in his eyes. "It was my pleasure," he said with just as much emotion in his voice, "I love you Miranda, no matter what happens tonight, I will always love you."

And he meant it because if they failed to save Sam and Pip, then it would be all they had left.

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


"There it is," Miranda said as she crouched low behind the cover of trees.

"Its right in the open," Jason declared seeing the mansion that sat on the peak of the mountain. The trees had been cleared in order to accommodate the estate and though the tree line was encroaching the fence line, there was still enough of a gap to ensure that any approach would be seen.

"We can still make it," Miranda frowned, wishing that there was more cover as she looked through the binoculars. "We'll definitely have to move under cover of dark."

"A place like this will have security," Jason added, "probably lots of it."

"Not to mention the Nazgul will know that we are approaching if we are carrying the Silmaril," Elrohir reminded.


"For all we know," Miranda gazed at her two companions as they quietly observed David Saeran's estate from the tree line, "they could already know we're here."

"So much for the element of surprise," Jason frowned.

Leaving the others behind, the trio had emerged in daylight to carry out something of a reconnaissance mission so that when they returned at nightfall, they would have some idea as to the lay of the land. Unfortunately, all that had been achieved upon seeing the considerable vantagepoint utilized by the mansion in its positioning at the top of the Harz Mountains was how difficult their approach would be.

"We'll manage," Miranda said quietly, determined to let nothing come between her and her children. There are four guards on each wall of the grounds. They look human enough."

"Five," Elrohir remarked, squinting his eyes to focus. "There is a further sentry at the far end."

Miranda lowered her binoculars and scowled at the elf who did not need any such device to see that distance. "Show off," she accused, drawing a smile from him.

"My elf eyes see a great deal," he shrugged, grinning.

"Right," Miranda rolled her eyes and faced the fortress once more. "We'll have to take out the guards on the western wall. It's closest to the tree line."

"If I could get close enough, I might be able to see what kind of electronics they have in place," Jason sighed with disappointment, "but no way I'm getting a look without being seen."

"He built his fortress here for good reason," Elrohir remarked, "its easily defendable."

"What was the name of it again?" Jason asked remembering that the estate had an interesting name when they had asked the locals directions to reach it.

"Celebdil," Elrohir answered before Miranda could. "Sauron remembers his elvish."


"Elvish?" Miranda stared at him. "Celebdil is elvish? What does it mean?"

"It was not so much a meaning as it is a name," Elrohir declared, his mind having recognized the Harz Mountains for what it was once he had learnt the name of Sauron's bastion here. Many of its features had been eroded away; the land had been contorted and twisted. Imladris should have been north of here but Eru's shaping of the land had left it southwards. Elrohir did not begin to understand the creator's motives but once he had learn the name of these mountains, he was able to discern where they were. "In my time, these were a part of the Misty Mountains. Celebdil was one of three peaks above the realm of Moria."

"Moria?" Jason rose a brow and felt something stirring inside of him. At first impulse, he would have deny flatly knowing anything about it but as the name lingered in his thoughts, there was something about it that felt almost familiar.

"Yes," Elrohir nodded, "Moria was the home of the great dwarf kingdom of Khazadum. However, by the time you and the Fellowship journey through there, it was abandoned."

"I was there?" Jason exclaimed. "I mean here?"

"You were forced to journey through the mines of Moria during the quest," the elf explained as if this were some trivial piece of information that he should be made aware.

"Come on," Miranda said shrinking away from the tree she was standing behind, "we should get back to the others."


Elrohir and Jason followed suit as they descended the steep incline that led to the bottom of the mountain where they had left the van. In a few hours, it would be dusk and they had yet to produce a plan that would allow them to invade the enemy's fortress without completely giving themselves away.

"So he picked this place to build his fortress because of this Moria?" Jason asked as they set a brisk pace down the mountain.

"It is may be so," Elrohir answered, considering the question. "During the quest, Moria was inhabited by goblin and the balrog that Olorin slew on this peak."

"Balrog?" Miranda had to ask.

"Yes," he nodded, "a terrible beast of fire that was servant of Morgoth. They had not been seen for many ages until that time. It is believed that they were destroyed in the War of the Wrath"

Half of his words made little sense to his human companions but it was enough for them to feel a certain anxiety as to the presence of further such creatures. "I do not believe they exist any longer."

"What about these goblins?" Jason asked not quite convinced that there was nothing to worry about. After all, a good many things that were supposedly apart of the mythical world had in recent days become terrifyingly real. The world as he had known it had changed shape considerably and while the truth was nowhere as overwhelming to him as it was to Frank, Jason could not deny that it was a great deal to accept in so short a time. Suddenly words like 'elves', 'dark lords' and phantom creatures that did not die had become apart of his vocabulary. It was not so improbably that goblins might suddenly make their appearance as well.

"As far as I remember," Elrohir tried to recall the dwarves' machinations in Moria following the War of the Ring. "There was an effort made by the dwarves of Durin's line to reclaim Moria but all that was achieved was the destruction of the goblins who had given aid to the balrog during its reign in Khazad-dum. Many of their kin were lost during this occupation and the dwarves were not about to let their deaths go unpunished. An expedition was made to drive out the goblins after the death of the balrog that I believe was largely successful. However, the dwarves did not linger for too long after the enemy had been driven away. With so many dead, Khazad-dum was considered cursed and abandoned for all time. Sauron however, would have had great relish in establishing his stronghold here since during the war of the Second Age, Khazad-dum had sealed their doors to him and prevented his army from conquering it."

"So he built here to rub their faces in it," Miranda nodded in understanding. "Some sort of gesture prove that finally, Khazad-dum is his?"

"That is Sauron's way," Elrohir nodded.

"What a bastard," she snorted and Elrohir could not say he disagreed with her opinion.

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

Frank listened closely to Miranda's observations about David Saeran's Harz Mountain fortress and felt a wave of disappointment at what she had discovered there. As Elladan had warned, the enemy most likely were aware of them. The Silmaril was a dead giveaway. The Nazgul may not be able to discern their position exactly so far away but they would definitely sense its presence. Unfortunately, the jewel was simply to valuable, not to mention dangerous to leave in anyone else's care so they had no alternative but to keep it with them.

He listened to Miranda telling them what they discovered during their reconnaissance expedition and was glad to see she was handling the disappointment better. Since their talk earlier that day, Frank had noticed the renewed spirit in her wife's manner. It was as if unburdening herself to him about Belfast had finally allowed Miranda some measure of piece and given her the focus she needed to get Sam and Pip back without wavering at every disappointment. The problem before them was considerable but instead of lamenting it, she was focussing on solving the crisis.

"So we're stuffed," Eric declared bitterly, clearly stinging by the fact that the information Dominique had died to provide them was not yielding the results he desired.

"We're at an impasse," Miranda corrected, "we simply have to think of another way."

"We could disable the guards," Elladan suggested, "however, I do not know how effective that will be since it is likely that the Nazgul will be present. They may be weakened by Sauron's imprisonment in the Undying Lands but they are still a force to be reckoned with."

"It will take time to search for the children in that house," Elrohir added, "even if we are able to enter his domain without notice. Time is what we do not have. We could not search for them so without bringing down the entire fortress upon our heads."

Frank listened to their debate, silently taking all their suggestions and building himself a complete tapestry from which he could create a plan. It was a practice he had honed over the years as an archaeologist, bringing together fragments of information to construct something of value. Of course, this time it was not an artifact he was trying to explain but the survival of his children. He let their words drone in his ears, taking from their snippets of conversation what was of value and discarding the rest.


They needed the element of surprise.

They no longer had it because the enemy knew that they were here and if they did not, they soon would.

The Nazgul could sense the Silmaril. Humans could not.

The Nazgul would need to take charge of the Silmaril themselves. He doubted they would entrust the matter to anyone else, not when it was their master's fate and by extension their own that hung in the balance. It was too important to them to lose and they would personally handle any retrieval of the jewel themselves rather than entrust to tasks to any minion.

"We need a distraction," Frank finally spoke silencing the others who were listening.

"It would have to be a bloody big distraction," Eric remarked staring at the archaeologist.

"It is," Frank nodded. "It's going to be me."

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

It did not surprise Irina Sadko when the telephone call she had been awaiting for the past few days finally arrived.

She was at her desk, pouring through reports from various contacts, seeking any information regarding the present whereabouts of Frank Miller. As last report, the archaeologist and his companions were in Denmark since the telephone call that Eric Rowan had made to his friend Dominique in Sydney had originated from there. At that point, the journalist had been seeking the location of the mansion in Germany and there was no reason to assume that he would not have acquired the information from other sources since Dominique had been unable to respond. Contacts placed at strategic travel centers from Denmark and northern Germany had kept watch for the travelers because Irina was almost certain they would be heading in this direction.

And she was right.

The Nazgul had sensed the presence of the Silmaril but they could not sense where the jewel was. It felt close but also distant at the same time. Morgul had attempted to explain but Irina had paid little attention, since the information was useless unless he could actually pinpoint the jewel's exact location. He and his brothers had wanted to set out immediately in search of Frank and his companions but Irina had stayed his hand because there really was no need. As long as their children was in her power, Frank and Miranda Miller had no alternative to play her game despite leading them on a merry chase the past few days.

"Professor Miller," Irina said smoothly after Frank had introduced himself to her. "What can I do for you?"

"I think you know," came the equally measured reply.

"You are a difficult man to contact Professor Miller," she continued. "This would have been so much more expedient if you had stayed put and let us find you."

"I seriously doubt that," he said dryly, not believing it for an instant. "I've seen your Nazgul's handiwork. I don't intend to end up the same way as my colleague Professor Skogull."

"An unfortunate situation," she answered not at all concerned, "however, let us not mince words. I have your sons and you have something that belong to me."

"It is hardly yours," Frank retorted. "However, it means nothing to me. I just want my children back."

"Then we can do business," she eased back into her chair with a little smile of triumph, grateful that at last, they could see daylight at the end of this tunnel. Very soon, everything she had dreamed off since discovering the Silmaril had been unearthed would come to pass. Soon, David would be with her again. The thought sent shivers of delight through her skin.

"Meet me at Alter Bahnhof in one hour," Frank said curly, "bring my children and you can have this damn jewel."

She knew the place, it was the venue for an old train station. A main route for those travelling into the heart of Goslar from the north. "I need more than the jewel," she insisted. "I need you."

"That's not the agreement," he said firmly. "You bring my children and you have the jewel. We'll go our separate ways and trouble each other no further."

This was a trap, Irina was certain. She wondered if he thought her so naive as to trust that he would not attempt to deceive her. If there were elves in his company than the Professor would have been appraised of the Silmaril's value and the possible reason that she wanted to acquire it so desperately Everything she knew about the man thus far indicated that he was not a coward. One did not stay a step ahead of the Nazgul by being a fool. No, she was certain that he intended to keep his children and the Silmaril.

"If that is the way it must be," Irina answered after a brief pause. "Then I shall bring your children and take what belongs to me. Bear in mind that should you choose to deceive us, I'll have the killed before your eyes. I would do it out of sheer spite. Do we understand each other?"

She heard his breath quicken on the other end of the line and knew he was restraining his anger.

"Yes," he answered sourly a moment later. "Perfectly."

"Excellent," Irina replied with a smile the Professor could not see. "We will meet shortly."

Once the connection between them was ended, Irina sent for the Nazgul. Morgul as always led his brothers into the office and wondered if they looked to him for leadership because of David's disappearances or because he was chief among them. Whatever the reason, she spared little time in considering it deeper. They were David's creations and other than their usefulness to retrieving what was his, she had very little feeling for them and utterly loathed Morgul most of all.

"He is here as you suspected," she announced.

"We will find him," Morgul said beginning to turn away when Irina stopped him.

"He has agreed to the trade," Irina said quickly. "He expects you to arrive in one hour at the Alter Bahnhof so that he can exchange the Silmaril for his children."

"He will be disappointed," the Nazgul said without hesitation.

"That is for certain," Irina nodded. "You will retrieve the Silmaril from him and kill everyone else. We need only the Professor. The others are merely inconveniences."

"And the children?" Morgul hissed loudly, his heart still craving for vengeance against the maiden of Rohan and her present incarnation.

"They are not to be harmed until the Professor has jumped through an adequate number of hoops first. Keep them where they are," she declared. "They will not be causing much mischief in those depths."

Morgul nodded in agreement but he had something else in mind.

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

.

How long had they been in this dark place?


Sam honestly could not tell because the lack of sunrise and sunset made it difficult to tell how many days had gone past. It must have been many though, he thought to himself, wishing he had been able to read clocks and watches a little better. Of course, he had no watch to speak of so it was most likely a skill that would have gone to complete waste even if he did know how. Thoughts like this, racing with disorientation from light depravation and a lack of sleep, filled his thoughts. Pip still had not spoken and continued to stare into the darkness and at their sentry who stood sphinx like at the entrance of the cavern that was their cell.

"I wonder how many of them there are," Sam spoke to Pip even though he was accustomed to that by now. It would take mum and dad to find them before he was able to escape this abyss that had ensnared him.

"They've been here a long time," he continued, cringing a little when he heard their excited voices beyond the walls of their cavern. He hoped the big Uruk Hai guard could keep those creatures away from them. It was strange how he came to rely on one monster to protect them from many others.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps, heavy and ominous approaching the cavern. He sat up straight, his body becoming a rigid as he felt the same chill creeping along his spine in an all too familiar sensation. He knew who it was before the person actually arrived. After the last three days of being in the presence of its hatred and malice, it was impossible for Sam not to sense when the Nazgul appeared at the doorway. The Uruk bowed his head slightly at being in the presence of the Black Rider, almost as if he was in church praying to God or something.

Pip had started to shudder. His small body quivering in fright because even in his possibly catatonic state, he recognized the evil air of the enemy. The Nazgul approach the cell, staring at Sam with those impassive mask in place. The young boy slid his arm around his brother, willing what dwindling courage he had into Pip's body.

"Its okay Pip," Sam said quickly. "They can't kill us if they want dad to do what they want."

He clung to this hope like a drowning man in a vast ocean clinging to a piece of flotsam.

"I'm afraid your brother is right," Morgul said as the door open and he reached through the cell to grab Sam's arm. "However, we did not say anything about hurting you."

The blade speared through Sam's shoulder and tore a scream from him without much difficulty.

"SAM!" Sam heard Pip squeal as the pain seared through his body.

He fell against the dirt about the same time as the blade in the Black Rider's hand. As the pain swallowed him whole, the last thing Sam was conscious of before his mind fell into darkness was the fact that the blade that was only seconds ago stained with his blood, had suddenly disappeared in a puff of black ash.

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