Family

Soundtrack : You Can't Stop Me! (Rajaton)



When that happened to me

at first I couldn't see

but then, I decided not to close my eyes

and then I found a way

an impossible way-

so you said, but it made me fly, right away



(Repeat Verse 1)



Now I'm just like a token spinning in a trance but, SURPRISE!

I don't fall and I don't choose either side

I keep rolling around in the dance I just have found

the laws of nature make exceptions somehow--

you can't really stop me now



I keep balancing on, but I'm good because I'm strong

and I turn when I see you reaching for me

And it still makes me laugh, that you thought you had all of me

but you see I keep changing on.

You can't really stop me now!!

The dark-haired man strode through the Dublin airport as if he owned it. He walked precisely, without wasted movement. This was not an average business man, despite his well-tailored suit.



He glanced about with the same economy of movement, taking in his surroundings. People bustled past, disregarded. Finally, at the very end of the arrivals lounge, he spotted the one he sought: a tall, fair man dressed casually in jeans and a pullover.



Smiling, his 'contact' hurried over. "You got here fast," he said approvingly.



The Paris businessman grinned back, briefly, and nodded. "I bullied an airline attendant almost to tears and she got me the fastest flight in."



"That wasn't nice." There was a trace of reproof in the other's voice. He glanced apologetically at his companion, and smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry about this," he said almost sheepishly. "But I need the contact phrase."



The well-dressed man from Paris looked at him, disbelieving. "Are you joking?"



His contact looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," he repeated, "but there are eyes everywhere these days, some friendly, some less so. I had a rather pointed message from headquarters telling me not to relax my guard, and to adhere to standard security procedures."



Grimacing, the Paris man waved away the apology. "Alright, I get it." He sighed. He spoke again, and as though his next task was entirely unpleasant, his voice dropped into a soft lilt that seemed completely at odds with his character:



""Sí vanwa ná, Rómello vanwa, Valimar."" **



The other man laughed at his discomfort, then replied in the same tongue:



""Nai hiruvalyë Valimar."" ***



"So, do I pass the elves' test of who can best mangle their precious language?" the businessman asked, not without irony.



His companion laughed lightly. "I've often thought that Galadriel possesses a slightly twisted sense of humour."



While talking, the two men had left the airport, and headed towards the curb of the arrival's gate. A black car awaited them, the engine purring contentedly.



Opening the door, the two climbed into the backseat. "Back to base, please," the casually dressed man informed the unseen driver.



The two settled back into the leather interior as the car left the parking lot, the businessman nodding appreciatively. "II has come up in the world since we last met."



The other grinned at the comment. "We offer only the best for White City Enterprises, sir."



The formality vanished.



"Barry."



"Finn. Christ, how long has it been since we've spoken face to face?"



Finn, the contact, shrugged. "A couple of months, maybe?"



"That's pathetic, you realize."



Another shrug. "I know. How's Dad?"



Barry loosened his tie, grimacing. "Oh, you know. The old man is fine. Asks about you every day. You know how he worries."



This prompted a humourless laugh. "Of course he does."



"Yeah, fine then, so he curses your name on a regular basis," Barry sighed. "Nothing you didn't know already."

"Yeah, I know. Speaking of which, has he got a clue where I am?"



"Nope. I don't think he realizes that *I* know where you are, otherwise, I'd be under the gun."



"Good. I like Ireland. I don't want to have to move our base again. I take it that you haven't you told him about our little project?"



"II? Hell no. I *really* think that this is better off as a secret."



"Ithilien Intelligence," Finn smirked. "II. Erin thought it up. She's great at coming up with catchy names."



"Not very subtle, though," Barry commented.



"Good thing there's only a handful of people in the world who would catch the reference. And we're two of them. Don't you feel lucky?"



"Not very often," was Barry's wry reply.



"Yeah, thanks for the cash, by the way. Where did it come from?"



"I diverted funding from one of our human resources projects that nobody cares about." Barry smiled proudly. "Dad will never miss it."



"Excellent. You'd be amazed how much cash this project eats."



"I doubt it would amaze me at all. I've gotten you a good chunk of it, remember?"



"But don't you appreciate the irony of the situation?"



"What irony? That Dad's Golden Boy has embezzled several hundred million for you, the prodigal son, in the past couple of years?"



"You're too kind. One of these days I'll make you a thank-you card."



Barry shook his head, smiling. "Consider it a wedding gift. I'm sorry I missed the nuptial, by the way. I was in South Africa checking out a project for Dad, and I didn't get your message. Then again, you and Erin didn't give a lot of warning."



"Yeah, so we'll use the money to buy a new toaster."



"It was over three million dollars this time."



"So we'll buy a *lot* of toasters."



Barry sighed, amused, and turned to face Finn. "So what was so important that I had to hightail it out of Paris, anyway?"



Finn winced. It was obvious that he'd been trying to delay this moment. "Well..." he said hesitantly.



"What is it?" Barry asked, his suspicion growing. When Finn got evasive, it meant things were *bad*.



"There's been a minor complication."



"Finn, anytime you say there's been a 'minor complication', it means there's been a huge screaming *derailment* of plans. Please, just tell me what the *hell* is going on?"



Biting his lower lip, Finn braced for the worst. "We've lost them."



Barry, for his part, looked confused. "But it's a plane. They're on a plane."



"Yes, well-"



"Finn, don't tell me you lost the god-damned plane!" At the other's stricken expression, he groaned. "How is that possible?"



Finn held up his hands defensively. "They deviated from their flight plan. That's all I can tell you. Our scanners lost them somewhere over the south of England."



"That doesn't make any sense." Barry rubbed his temples, his expression pained. "I waited at the airport for hours. Glorfindel gave them the message: 'Meet Barry Stuart from White City Enterprises in Paris. He's a friend."



Finn shrugged helplessly. "I had no idea what was going on when they dropped off our scanners. I figured that there was some change in plan, but I hadn't heard from you so I decided-"



Barry nodded. "I know, I know." He glanced out the tinted window. "What's going on?" he wondered out loud. "Adam's with them, he would know that I'm trustworthy. Something's wrong, Finn, I just know it."



Finn watched him closely. "He doesn't remember you, Barry. He's not Aragorn anymore."



Barry frowned. "I know. The son of Denethor means nothing to him. But he knows *me*, Finn!" He leaned forward, his face earnest. "He sure as hell knows Barry Stuart. He was my best friend, once upon a time. Ten years can't have changed things that much...can they?"



Finn hated the doubt that he saw on his brother's face, but was powerless to prevent it. He was in the dark as much as Barry was.



The car slowed, the tires scrunching over gravel. "We're back at base, anyway," said Finn. "Here, why don't you get in contact with my superiors and we'll figure out what to do? Maybe they've got some clue what's going on."



Barry nodded, opening his door. He stepped out into the bright sunlight, squinting. Then he began to laugh. "That's the base?" he asked incredulously.



Finn crunched through the late snow to join him. "So what? Who would ever suspect it?"



The log cabin sat at the edge of an old growth forest. The only access, Barry noticed, was the winding dirt road which their car had travelled. He looked more closely at the house. It looked innocent, idyllic even, with its sturdy construction, smoke rising from the stone chimney, and purple crocuses poking through the snow out front. But Barry's practiced eye caught some of the more obscure details: the small satellite transceiver hidden near the chimney, and the infrared sensors tucked unobtrusively in the log overlap. There were also laser motion sensors stretched across the base of each window, almost hidden from view by the window boxes in front of them.



Barry whistled appreciatively. This cabin was a fortress as far as surveillance equipment went.



"Welcome to the headquarters of Ithilien Intelligence," Finn said. "It's not all in the house, of course. It extends underground for quite a bit. But we find that it suits our purposes."

Finn was right, Barry decided. Anyone stumbling across II headquarters -or even somebody deliberately looking for it- would have a hard time guessing its true purpose. "I like it," he said aloud. "Very home-like."



Finn laughed. "Erin thinks so too. But come on inside. I'll ask my darling wife to make you a cup of tea and then we'll figure out what the hell we're going to do next."



At that moment the front door of the cabin opened. A young woman, perhaps in her mid-twenties, emerged. "Finn? You're back already? I thought I heard voices." Her gaze travelled to Barry, and she froze.



"Well," she said finally, "I guess the honeymoon's over. Come on in, Barry. I suppose Finn has briefed you on the problem at hand."



Barry sighed as he followed the two into the house. The former son of Gondor knew that there was trouble to come, because somewhere in the world, there was an aeroplane filled with people he had to protect. And he didn't know where they were.



Inwardly, steeled himself for future hardships. He had died for their cause once before. He knew that if he had to, he would do it again.









** Now lost, lost to those from the East is Valimar.



***Maybe thou shalt find Valimar.



Both are two lines of a song sung by the elves of Lorien about the destiny of the elves to the West.