Author's Note: Hey everyone. Adam has developed a rather disturbing schizophrenic Gollum-like tendency to flick back and forth between Adam and Aragorn's personalities without even realizing it. Please refrain from hauling off and smacking the stunned little bugger. Remember that we love him very much, and do not, in fact, want to kill him. Also, the other two Nightrunners want everyone to wish Eirual a belated 18th birthday * confetti is thrown*.

Just A Dream

Soundtrack: The Hornburg ( The Two Towers Soundtrack)



Darkness.

That was the pervading impression, a blackness that surrounded and penetrated all things, a place where light had never reached.

And pain. Oh, yes, there was a good deal of *that* too.

Gradually, Adam became vaguely aware of something hitting his face, a cold persistent patter that was becoming more and more familiar. Rain. He opened his eyes, and stared into a moonless sky.

All around him, battle was raging. He slowly paced along the parapet of an ancient castle, watching a line of armoured archers delivering volley after volley, some falling with quivering black shafts embedded through their chests and throats. Screaming, the clash of steel on steel, and the constant pervading hiss of the rain.

None of the arrows hit him, even though he walked in front of the archers' line. None of the soldiers took any notice of him.

In the distance, a massive explosion rocked the wall. Adam watched in interest as huge blocks of sto89ne tumbled through the air, falling debris mixed with flying bodies. He continued to make his way along the wall, towards the breach. A surge of dark-armoured creatures were pouring through, brandishing spears and scimitars and all manner of archaic weapons.

Finally, picking his way through the corpses and fallen debris, he walked to the broken edge of the crumbling wall, to stand beside a familiar figure.

"Hello," said Legolas conversationally, his leather duster slick with rain, his blond hair damp and dripping. He was holding a longbow, and without pausing, fitted another arrow and let it fly. Somewhere below, an enemy screamed and reeled, swiftly joining the ranks of the dead.

Adam absently pushed wet hair off his face, drew his service revolver, and fired. The crack of the gunshot was quite loud, and another creature fell. "What is this place?" he asked, lining up for another shot.

"Helm's Deep, I should think." said Legolas, firing another arrow. "Ring a bell?"

Adam frowned, fired again. "A little bit. I feel like I've dreamed about this place before."

Legolas shrugged, picked up another arrow. "They'd probably be nightmares. You and I and Gabe fought here. It wasn't a nice battle."

"What were the odds?"

"About twenty to one, their favour."



"Shit."

"Exactly."

Adam reloaded his gun. "Is this real?"

Legolas picked up an arrow, and held it to his eye. "I'm not really sure. Currently, I think you're unconscious, and I've had the living hell beat out of me." He shrugged. "I'm trying to keep myself anchored, so my consciousness doesn't just drift away. Believe it or not, I don't want to die just yet. So I guess I latched myself on to the least defended mind available. That would be you. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it, I'm not exactly in any position to complain. Is this one of your memories?"

Legolas frowned. "Probably. You were here too, so it might be one of yours. It's hard to tell. Hey, look over there, it's us."

Adam stuck his revolver back in its holster, and joined the elf on the other side of the wall; it overlooked a vast, muddy courtyard, illuminated by huge, hissing torches.

Two armies were fighting, one side composed of men, more or less. The other-Adam hissed in disgust- some sort of creatures that sent a chill of loathing right though his hindbrain. Away from rationality, away from logical thought, these creatures sent a gust of primal hatred right through Adam's core.

"Orcs." commented Legolas, fingering a fray in his bowstring. "And Uruk-hai. Nasty piece of work, those. You're the dark-haired one with the big sword, yeah, the one leading the charge."

Adam watched the man with a sort of bemusement. The entire scene was suffused with a dreamlike quality, a completely surreal atmosphere. "That's me?" he ventured.

"Yeah. I'm over on the far side, see the blond one with the knives? Gabe's the short, psychotic one with the axe."

Adam watched himself fight for a few seconds. "My hair was longer."

"It was, wasn't it?"

"And I looked older."

"You did. Well, technically, you were in your eighties then, so it makes sense."

Adam turned to face the elf. "I was *eighty* then?"

"Eighty-eight, actually." Legolas corrected mildly. "Seeing as you died when you were 210, it all balances out."

Adam rubbed the bridge of his nose to ward off a headache. "So, despite the fact that we were hopelessly outnumbered and I was *leading* the charge, I didn't die in this place?"

"Oh, no." Legolas shook his head and smiled slightly. "You went on to live a long and disgustingly happy life. You helped save the world, then you became the King of Gondor and all your subjects adored you. You married the love of your life and you were very happy."

"Arwen." breathed Adam, staring at the fighting below.

"Arwen, Alice, whatever you want to call her. She was an elf, and she loved you enough to give up her immortality. So, when all the Elves sailed away for the Undying Lands, she stayed behind."

"What happened then?"

"Well, you died. You were only a mortal, Adam, even if you were a particularly long-lived one. Arwen left your city, and went to Lothlorien, the forest-land of her kin." Legolas paused, his eyes dark with pain. "But there was nobody there. And so she wandered, grieving and heart-broken, until she was forgotten by everyone. She pined until she died, alone under the empty trees and sky. So passed the Evenstar from the land of light and life."

Adam's eyes were fixed on some point below, but he clearly wasn't seeing anything. "I left her?"

"Yes."

"I left her."

**********

The darkness suddenly receded in a swift wave, leaving only painful light and clarity in its wake. Adam Gordon opened his eyes, blinked, and watched the distracted face of Alice Starr swim into focus above him. He was lying on his back with his head propped in her lap, could hear the rumble of old engines, feel the vibrations in the floor. She wasn't paying attention to him; rather, she was staring at the far wall, lost in thought. Her fingers were gently running across his scalp and through his hair, a soothing feeling to fight the burning pain of his shoulder.

He blinked again, and cleared his throat experimentally. Alice's gaze snapped back to his and she jumped. Well, she jumped as well as you can jump when while sitting cross-legged with someone's head in your lap. This ended with Alice in a semi-crouched position and Adam's head hitting the floor hard enough to make the world spin.

"Oh, Christ. Adam..."

Alice grabbed him under the shoulders and tugged him semi-upright. He turned and stared at her, grey eyes deep and full of some lost pain, the sort of agony that had nothing to do with a bruised head and a mage-scarred shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

His voice was so quiet, that, for a moment, she thought she'd imagined it. "Sorry for what?"

His eyes locked on hers; for a moment, there was terrible clarity, a *certainty* in their depths. It faded slowly, like sunlight behind a passing cloud.

Adam slowly sat up, with the depressing realization that this was reality. "I don't remember."

.