The Shield of Valir Part Ten
(Formerly Project Rivendell)
(A/N apologies for taking a while to update. I've had computer problems, then I had to remember my plot!)
"Where is this shield now?" asked Gandalf, looking at Gwyneth and Connell.
"It wasn't with me when I landed in The Shire." Gwyneth shrugged. "Do Will and Rhonda have it?" She looked to Elrond, who shook his head.
"No, they do not have it. We would have noticed. They were unconscious for some time, so there was no time for young Will to hide it." Elrond explained, though his mention of Will hiding the shield drew mystified glances.
"Nor with me when I came to Middle Earth this time," said Connell, "though it was the first time, which was how I returned with … to Gwyneth."
"It seems from this that the shield goes where it wants to go," said Gandalf. "It has its own destiny. Perhaps Lady Gwyneth found its final resting place, and it awoke for one more adventure."
"Does that mean we're stuck here?" asked Gwyneth, slipping her hand into her father's.
"Until the shield finds its way to you again," replied Gandalf, who suspected that everyone who touched the shield was somehow bound to it, in very much the same way as the ring bearers were forever bound to the one ring.
****************
There wasn't much left of Mordor. Just a few ruins of the old building. The rest had fallen into the great crevice that had appeared when Frodo threw the ring into the chasm. But at that particular moment, Mordor was as busy as if Sauron had still lived. Orcs who had survived the destruction, were bustling around, as if preparing for war. Swords and other weapons were being created in makeshift smithies. The orcs who had swords were practising with them, and others were lined up in drill fashion, having orders shouted at them in English. There weren't really a thousand Orcs on the loose. Middle Earth was as prone to Chinese whispers as people in the future. There were maybe two or three hundred Orcs, and many of those were amputees or had some injury left over from the Battle for Middle Earth.
Sargeant Mike Rauson, of the Paratroop regiment looked at the ragtag army he had created and grimaced. When he had landed on Middle Earth, closely following his commanding officer, Colonel James Hadley, he had realised that this was a world that he could run his way. The orcs, who had never seen an Ouzi, were terrified of the machine gun that Rauson held in his hands now. He had only fired it once (he had very few rounds left to waste), but it was enough to let them know that he had 'magical' powers beyond anything they had seen before. Not only that, but he owned a shield with which he could appear and disappear at will. The shield, as Gandalf had guessed, had its own destiny, and at this moment in its history had chosen Sargeant Rauson as its owner.
"Are we ready?" He barked to his troops. There was half-hearted agreement. "Good. Then tomorrow we march to Gondor, and remove King Arthur…"
"Aragorn!"
"Whatever. We remove him from this throne. When I am king of Gondor, you shall all be rewarded, and all your enemies will be punished."
There was an almighty cheer from the Orcs.
*****************
"I need a drink," Rhonda moaned to Anondir. It was evening in Rivendell, and Anondir was doing his best to keep Rhonda sober. He had succeeded for a whole week, only for her to hit the bottle the night previously when she had been feeling homesick.
"Why do you need a drink?" asked Anondir. "Is my company so boring?" He was only half teasing.
"No, of course not. Anondir, you know I like you. I've really enjoyed these past few weeks," said Rhonda. It was true. Anondir had treated Rhonda like a person, not a piece of meat, or, as in her father's case, like a dumb animal. She had even come to enjoy his poetry, whereas at first she had thought it all a bit soppy and embarrassing. No one else in Rivendell was embarrassed by poetry and literature, so Rhonda felt herself relaxing among the elves and enjoying their culture. "I miss my own time." Rhonda told Anondir. "I like it here, and I like being with you, but I don't belong here. I don't even belong with Gwyneth and Will, studying archaeology. I only did that to please my dad. I belong in London, going to clubs with my friends."
"Mmm, and did you not say that one of these friends stole your lover?"
"Yes, but we all do it. It's a game. I stole her boyfriend when we were at school."
"I see," said Anondir, not really seeing at all. "Perhaps, if you ever return, you should tell your father that you do not want to study this archaeology, and find something that you want to do. What is it that you wish to do?"
"Oh, I don't know. I used to be really good at art when I was at school. I drew some pictures of Rivendell this morning. Would you like to see them?" Rhonda asked, shyly, afraid Anondir would laugh at her.
Anondir agreed readily, glad to have an excuse to keep Rhonda away from the drink.
They went to her rooms, where she showed him her pictures of Rivendell. They were outstanding. Using pastel chalks, she had managed to capture the magic of Rivendell, and its fading glory. She looked up to him for approval.
"These are …" Anondir paused. "These are the most wonderful pictures I have ever seen of Rivendell, and we elves are good artists. You really do have talent Rhonda."
"Thanks." Rhonda, blushing, reached up and kissed him on the cheek. For the first time in her life, she found herself actually enjoying a man's (or rather an elf's) company for its own sake, and not for mere sexual gratification. "I … erm … perhaps I should turn in," she said, suddenly feeling awkward.
"Turn in?" Anondir looked puzzled.
"I mean go to bed." Rhonda smiled. 'It's a phrase. To turn in."
"I see." Again, Anondir didn't see. He was taking some time to get used to the way these people from the future talked. "Goodnight, Lady Rhonda." He was relieved that she had forgotten about drinking.
"Goodnight, Anondir."
Anondir left Rhonda in her room, and went back down to the courtyard, to return to his own home. Isaldur was standing in the shadows, an angry look on his face.
"I see you are spending a lot of time with the Lady Rhonda." Isaldur called to Anondir.
"We are friends, Isaldur, that is all." Said Anondir. "Come, you and I have no need to fight."
"Do we not?" Isaldur moved out of the shadows. He was holding his sword, but swaying from side to side. He had clearly been drinking too much. "You dishonour my Lady, and then when my back is turned, you take advantage of her."
"Isaldur, it is not like that. I will not fight you, Isaldur. Rhonda is changed now. She is not the woman you knew. She has learned the importance of real friendship." Anondir held up his hands in supplication.
Isaldur was not listening. He lunged forward in the dark.
Rhonda was just about to get into bed when she heard a blood-curdling scream. Instinctively feeling that this involved her somehow, she dashed out of her rooms and down into the courtyard at Rivendell.
Lying in a pool of blood, in the centre of the courtyard, lay Anondir, a sword through his chest. Isaldur stood over him, now sobered up completely, his face stricken with the enormity of what he had done. Other elves, sensing that something evil had taken place among them, were coming out of their houses. Isaldur turned to Rhonda.
"He dishonoured you…" the young elf said, his voice shaking.
"Anondir!" screamed Rhonda, tears filling her eyes. "No! He was just my friend." She knelt on the floor next to Anondir, desperately feeling for a pulse. "He was just my friend, Isaldur."
Isaldur was not listening. Pulling the sword from Anondir's chest, Isaldur turned it towards himself, and then threw himself onto the blade…
