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The Nightrunners

So gracious is the time.

Soundtrack: A Man ( Alanis Morissette)

I am a man as a man I've been told
Bacon is brought to the house in this mold
Born of your bellies I yearn for the cord
Years I have groveled repentance ignored

And I have been blamed
And I have repented
I'm working my way toward our union mended

I am man who has grown from a son
Been crucified by enraged women
I am son who was raised by such men
I'm often reminded of the fools I'm among

And I have been shamed
And I have relented
I'm working my way toward our union mended
And I have been shamed
And I have repented
I'm working my way toward our union mended

We don't fare well with endless reprimands
We don't do well with a life served as a sentence
This won't work well if you're hell bent on your offence
I am a man who understands your resistance

I am a man who still does what he can
To dispel our archaic reputation
I am a man who has heard all he can
Cuz I don't fare well with endless punishment

Cuz I have been blamed and I have repented
I'm working my way toward our union mended
And we have been blamed and we have repented
I'm working my way toward our union mended



Awareness, when it came, was sudden. It literally felt as though someone had flicked a light switch in my brain, returning me instantly to consciousness.

Outwardly, I knew I hadn't even twitched. Since I had no idea where I was, I didn't want to give any sign of waking. But the fact that the pain in my back had dwindled to a tolerable ache was a definite reassurance that I was among friends.

Sunlight glowed behind my closed eyes. I was bare to the waist on a very comfortable bed, but covered quite decently by a layer of blankets. There was no point delaying the inevitable, so I opened my eyes.

My immediate impression was of a tower bedchamber. Morning sunlight streamed through enormous windows, over the pale walls and the rough, dark hardwood floor. I was lying in a rather ornate old bed, with clean white sheets. The room was otherwise empty, save for a chair beside the bed and one very familiar Marchwarden.

Haldir the ex-Galadhrim sat staring into space, his eyes dull with sleep. He was dressed in a corded black sweater and jeans so old they must have witnessed the dawn of several centuries. His bare feet were propped on the bed.

The moment I shifted position, however, he snapped back to awareness and focussed to me before I could blink.

"Nice to know time hasn't atrophied *your* skills, Mister Marchwarden." I said. My voice felt scratchy with disuse, and I wondered for a moment how long I'd been unconscious. "Sleeping on watch?"

Haldir smiled, and the pure soppy *relief* on his face made me wish for a camera, for blackmail purposes, obviously. "Good morning, princeling."

I grinned in return. "Good morning yourself." I arched my back and stretched, hearing the organic crackle that seemed to indicate my vertebrae were rearranging themselves. Haldir poured me a glass of water from a pitcher beside the bed and I drank, realizing how dry my throat felt.

"How do you feel?" he asked, setting the glass aside.

"Stiff," I answered, limbering muscles in my neck and shoulders. The agonizing pain had nearly faded completely, which gave me a fairly good indication of who had tended me. That left only one question. "Where am I?"

"The Halls of Mandos." he answered matter-of-factly. "I'm God."

I fell back theatrically against the pillows. "Damn. You try to lead a good life and see where it gets you? Stuck in the afterlife...and Haldir is God."

Even Haldir looked disturbed at that prospect.

"So where are we, really?" I asked, abandoning efforts on my neck and beginning to work the muscles of my arms. "What's going on?"

"Well," Haldir began, "We're in the White City."

"Thank God."

"No, thank your friends. They got you here after your little tumble with the Nazgul. Please don't ever do that again."

"What, swan-diving with the Witch-Queen?"

"Yes, that. Game, set, match, goodnight sweet prince. If it hadn't been for Mithrandir-"

"Wait, hold on, Mithrandir is *here*?"

"Yes, he's the one who brought you in. We knew you were in Paris, but we couldn't track you down. You apparently sent out a psychic call loud enough to shake his synapses loose. I didn't know you could do that."

"Neither did I. I mean, I didn't know it was going to work, but what did I have to lose?" I stretched out one last kink and grimaced. "How long have I been here?"

"Three days. You've been in Paris for nearly a week."

I wiggled my toes experimentally, then I shifted to a kneeling position. "Can we get out of here? I have feeling in all my limbs, the room's not spinning, and my vertebrae appear to be stacked in the proper order. So can we leave?"

Haldir looked dubious. "Elrond will kill me. He'd kill you too, only he invested so much time and effort in getting you back into working order."

I laughed. I couldn't help myself; it was the sunlight, the room, and the sheer joy of being alive. I leaned forward into a cat-stretch, then vaulted forward into a handstand over the baseboard. Unfortunately for me, a few muscles decided not to cooperate after their period of enforced inactivity. I flipped out of the handstand and landed rather harder than I meant on the floor. Haldir smirked at me. I glared. "I really am feeling much better."

He just rolled his eyes. "Just don't blame me when Elrond dumps your sorry ass back in bed for the next week. Sit tight. I'll bring you some clothes."

"Clothes." I glanced down at the loose sleeping pants that were providing some degree of modesty. "Good idea."

The blond elf returned a moment later, carrying a loose white robe with wide sleeves. He observed me critically. "It's rather open, but you won't freeze." He tossed it to me. "Come on."

Haldir led the way down the hall, to a set of spiral stairs that descended to a series of swinging catwalks over an enormous atrium room. Trees grew straight from the ground, heavy with moss and hanging vines. Vast networks of ivy crisscrossed the stone walls. A spring welled from the rock above, sending water falling in a cold cascade that glinted in the sunlight.

He stopped to let me stare, and listen to the easy rustle and whisper of the secret voices and the great silent heartbeat of this little forest. "This place is beautiful. But can you hear them?" I gestured to the trees below. "They're mournful."

"Yes," said Haldir. "They're alone. They're the only surface trees standing for hundreds of kilometres."

He led me along the catwalk, out of the atrium, and into a long corridor. Haldir dropped back to fall into step beside me. "I'll take you to the gymnasium. Some of your friends may be there, and I'm sure they'll want to know that you're up and about."

We came to a set of double doors, which he pushed open. It was a vast, airy room, with high ceilings and tall windows. It was, however, bereft of any reincarnated Fellowship members.

Elladan and Elrohir were sparring in the middle of the room. Both were dressed in identical grey gi, their dark hair bound into loose braids. As we watched, the twins traded blows and blocked attacks as quickly as the eye could follow.

As fighters, they were beautiful to watch. Balletic grace flowed through each attack and thwarted blow as the Twins moved across the floor, leaping, dodging, and parrying. Swift and deadly, bodies and instincts honed to the sharpest fighting precision.

Then Elladan turned and caught sight of me. His mouth dropped open in surprise - and, in that moment of distraction, Elrohir caught him with an open-palmed blow to the chest that sent him flying.

Elladan hit the floor with a stream of unprintable elvish profanity as Elrohir lunged towards me. "Legolas!"

He caught me in a tight embrace, laughing as he did so. "Ada was so worried, not that he said anything, but we could tell."

He broke off there, and just hugged me tighter as his brother, still growling under his breath, caught me from behind. "You great blond wanker. Don't you *ever* do that again, you hear me? I don't need that kind of stress in my eternal life."

The Twins settled themselves in a patch of sunlight on the floor, sprawling out like two big cats. Haldir and I sat next to them. "So," I began, "Bring me up to speed. What happened while I was out?"

Elrohir, Elladan, and Haldir each took a deep breath. Uh-oh. "Well, it was a minor adventure getting you here-"

"-Since none of your friends knew who to trust in Paris, because *you* decided to be all self-sacrificing and heroic by not mentioning your Goldenwood contacts to anyone beforehand-"

"-Who, by the way, were out of their *minds* with worry when you vanished off the flight path, thank you very much-"

"-and since your friends aren't exactly the trusting type, they managed to hide out in Paris for more than three days before we found them, and believe me when I say we've got the best spy network in the city-"

"-Your lovely lady friend took offense to her shadow and nearly ran her over with a train-"

"-Hey, that's our sister you're talking about, you know-"

"-*Thank* you, I know that, I wasn't finished. Alice tried to kill Erin Stuart, that's Eowyn, by the way, from the Ithillien Intelligence branch. But they seem to be over that now. And then your friend Adam-"

"-Scientific name: Stubborn Brother Bastardus-"

"-Met up with his old nest brothers, Barry and Finn Stuart, Barry representing our covert partner in White City Enterprises. They seemed to be the catalyst that triggered Adam's repressed memories-"

"-He kinda went catatonic, but he's okay now-"

"-Just as long as Ada doesn't catch up with him, he's not as happy to see Estel as we are-"

"-Your hobbit friends, Felix and Sam, reported a cryptic meeting with Darryl Stuart, CEO of White City Enterprises, which leads us to believe he can no longer be counted even *marginally* among our allies-"

"-Always knew he was a prat-"

"-and Peter Taylor and Mark Anderson Brand managed to alienate at least half of the Parisian mage community in a single afternoon. All of which culminated in enough of a distraction that ensured that Mithrandir, Glorfindel and I could remove you from the apartment without alerting your Dwarven watchdog."

"It would have been a total bugger trying to get him to trust us without signed affidavits from the Dalai Lama, sixteen vestal virgins, and our white-haired old grannies. He's a bit protective of you, if you hadn't already realized."

I snorted, picturing Gabe's face when he'd returned to an empty apartment. "Don't take it personally."

Haldir shrugged, winding down from explanation mode. "As soon as he got here, he harassed Galadriel until she swore that Elrond and all the healers were attending to you at that very moment. To tell the truth, I think she found his persistence rather charming."

"Gabe, flirting with Galadriel." I shuddered. "It sends shivers down my spine."

"No, my princeling, that's just the titanium pins. They're holding some rather important vertebrae together."

At that moment, the door to the gym swung open and in wandered one Felix Baker, rocker and former Ringbearer. I stood up. "Good morning, Felix."

He stopped dead and grinned. Then he flew across the floor and embraced me in a manner which was a lot more hobbit than Necropolis street-dweller.

"Reports of your death were greatly exaggerated, huh? Welcome back to the real world." As Felix smiled at me, all dark thoughts of battles, falling, and Nazgul receded from my mind. I was alive, I'd soon be ready to fight, and we had a Fellowship again.

Life was good.

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

Adam made his way along the wide, window-lined corridor. Every so often, an Elf would pass, on their way to their rooms or their offices, or simply wandering without a destination. They would invariably pause and bow to him, a palm laid flat to their hearts. The Gondorian King felt compelled to return the gesture, but his inner cop just felt weird.

Weird. That was the perfect word. It was like seeing the world through an entirely different set of eyes, coupled with memories he didn't remember.

Adam winced. Speaking of weird. Memories he didn't remember. Try understanding *that* without having a few drinks first.

The sunny corridor eventually ended in a set of double doors. He pushed them open.

Inside was a vast gymnasium, recently vacated by four Elves and a former Hobbit. Sunlight filtered through the high windows, settling in bright patches on the hardwood floor. Sparring mats lay piled in the corner. However, Adam's attention was immediately drawn to the person standing in the centre of the room.

Elrond Peredhil. The man who had once been his father and mentor. As the ancient Elf turned to face him, Adam slowly followed that train of thought to its logical conclusion.

//...And then you kept his daughter from following her family to immortality and left her to die. Oh Christ.//

"Estel." Not a greeting, a simple statement of fact. Elrond's face was impassive, but his eyes were cold. He turned away, deliberately, leaving Adam with a deep feeling of dread. This was coupled with a sudden pang of loss; he'd felt respect, even love for the timeless Half-elf who had brought a human foundling into his house. Now, for the first time, he felt stirrings of fear.

Elrond had moved towards a rack on the wall. Leaning forward with the same deliberate motion, he drew two fencing foils. Then he turned towards Adam again. "Come," he said. "We will duel."

Adam saw him then, maybe with the bit of magic Alice had always sworn he possessed. He saw him standing at the horizon of a storm, exuding the calmness of one who knows that soon, the destruction will begin.

Elrond tossed him the foil, and he caught it one-handed. "Do you fence?" he inquired politely, but with a core of coldness to the words. Adam knew the closest he'd ever gotten to sword-fighting was with the judicious use of a breadknife, killing rats in an ex-girlfriend's apartment. But he knew that this answer wouldn't stop Elrond.

And then it was too late to stop, too late to rationalize, as Elrond attacked. The blade whipped in close past his face, cutting through the air with a sharp hiss. Adam dodged backwards, trying to formulate some sort of defence.

The blades weren't tipped.

And Adam knew, at that instant, that Elrond could kill him. He was a bereaved father, having had endless millennia for grief to crystallize into rage.

Adam knew nothing about sword-fighting, but Aragorn did.

It became a dance, a dance of beautiful and terrible grace; Adam's rational mind disengaged, and he felt himself slip into the ebb and flow of ancient instincts. He dodged, parried, and attacked when he saw an opening. Elrond's blade whipped through empty space as Adam leapt backwards, though not out of reach of the old Elf's kick. His foot connected solidly with the cop's midsection, driving him backwards. Adam managed to turn the fall into an awkward flip, barely regaining his balance as Elrond attacked again.

He managed to slip past the Elf's guard, scoring a quick scratch down Elrond's arm. "First blood," said Adam, his tone light, trying to imagine that this was just a friendly match, that he was going to walk out of this room intact.

Then Elrond retaliated, his foil nearly blurring with the speed of his attacks. A hit to the ribs, the shoulder, then a shallow cut across his cheekbone. "Focus, Estel," said Elrond, anger creeping into his tone for the first time. "You're not paying attention."

"Watch me." Adam shot back, regaining the offensive. He began to drive Elrond back, ignoring the sting every time the blade slapped home. The dance regained its grace, with both parties landing blows, blood and sweat beginning to flow more freely.

And Adam started talking again, not even registering what he was saying. "I loved her, don't you understand that? I *needed* her, I was nothing without her!"

"You killed her, Estel." Rage was seeping into Elrond's voice again; this time, it was unchecked. "She needed *you*, and you left her behind to die."

Adam hissed in pain as point of the foil scratched along his arm, drawing blood as it went. "I didn't want to leave her, don't you see? Death was our curse, and she knew it was coming! She knew! And so did you, you bastard!"

Elrond's voice had dropped to a growl. "I will not lose her again. Not again."

Father and son then descended somewhere primal, where nothing mattered but the rage and the pain. All control, all pretence of civility had dropped away. Now it was just the hiss and clatter of blades, and two minds waiting to strike.

And then their foils caught, the blades running along one another until the pommels clanged together, leaving their faces inches apart, and eye to eye for the first time.

For an instant, Adam could see past the fury in Elrond's eyes, past the anger to the naked and desolate pain beneath. //My daughter, my one and beautiful daughter, the light of my life and the star of my sky, and I couldn't save her, don't you see? I couldn't stop her.//

Adam briefly wondered what Elrond could see in his eyes, and then he heard her scream.

"Stop!"

A spell blew them apart, sending him flying towards the wall. He had a short glimpse of Legolas, upside down, at speed, before a strong hand caught his wrist, giving him a solid anchor. Adam managed to pivot in midair, aborting his flight into the wall and planting his feet solidly on the ground once more.

Across the gym, Elrond had turned his fall into a languid backflip, landing comfortably on his feet. He stared across at the one who'd ended the duel.

Alice strode into the room, power visibly crackling in her wake, her eyes cold and solid blue. Legolas stood behind her, his hair and robe stirring in the breeze of her passage, looking as though he'd really rather be somewhere else. When she spoke, every word seemed to hum and hang on the force of her anger.

"Don't. You did this before. Don't do it again. I love you both more than you can imagine, but don't dare presume that my love can withstand this-" she struggled for words, "-this, *feud*, for a second time. Stop fighting. *Now*."

She left then, walking out of the room with her head high, radiating anger. Adam pitied anyone in her way right now. Angry witches had the tendency wreak havok on anything in their paths.

Legolas quietly collected the foil from Elrond's unresisting hand. He picked up Adam's blade from where it had dropped to the floor. He set them both back on the rack, then he turned and spoke for the first time.

"She's right, you know. You two have to work this out. Otherwise, you're both still hurting her, and I think she's had enough pain in both her lifetimes, don't you?"

He walked towards the door. "I'm going to try to calm her down before she happens to somebody." As he passed Adam, he dropped his voice and nodded, a slight smile on his face. "Hello, Elessar. It's been awhile." And then Legolas was gone.

Adam was left in vast gym, staring across at the ancient Elf that he had loved, respected, resented, and never, ever understood. "I won't hurt her again." he said, but Adam wasn't sure whether he was telling that to Elrond, or to himself.