AN: Thanks again to everyone who reviewed!
Keddi: The format will be changing a bit from here on, so I won't really need to double-space, but I'll swear some of the spaces get deleted every time I save. There are sentence that I've had to correct umpteen times.
PrinceDarrenv2: Thanks very much!


Chapter Six: Mirrors of Home

The little boy laughed under all the dark hair, and tottered away down the path.
"Such a pleasant child," said the Queen, ambling along between the trees.
"Yes, Lady," said the Elf.
"I like this world. I may take a mortal husband here instead."
"Yes, Lady."
There was a loud splash from further along the path.
"Perhaps the boy has fallen in," she said idly. "Go and see."

Vimes felt like a passenger in his own body. He felt as though he could take control any time he wanted, but realised just what a bad idea that would be. There were hundreds of men down there, hanging on his every word. He could feel eyes on the back of his neck, too. Vimes didn't have a clue who these people were, or what was going on-

They are the Rohirrim, the Horse-Lords, and they come to be led to war.

It wasn't spoken by a mysterious voice, or breathed by the passing wind. They just, sort of, occurred to him, like a sudden flash of memory.
And then Vimes' host raised his sword, leading the cheer. Something very odd happened. It felt like the slackening of a clenched fist, except the whole body was relaxing. It hadn't been tensed anyway. But nevertheless, Vimes was back in control.

He was standing on a hillock at the base of a cliff. A narrow road switchbacked across the cliff-face; presumably there would be a flat space at the top, but it was invisible from here.
Turning away from the crowd, Vimes looked around to see who was staring at him while he was speaking. He was hard to miss.

"Mister Vimes?"
"Carrot?" he wheezed. "What are you doing here?"
The young man shifted uneasily. "I didn't really mean to, sir. But sometimes it's quite difficult to disobey instructions."

Carrot had been in Ankh-Morpork for six years, but part of him was still in Copperhead. Sometimes Vimes thought it was his common sense, but for all his simplicity Carrot was an astoundingly clear thinker, a devious investigator and one hell of a copper.

"Who else came?" asked Vimes.
"Just me, I think," said Carrot. He gazed up the road. "I thought I saw Angua, but it was a different girl. She looked very shocked when she saw me."
Vimes frowned. "I wonder who that could be."

Éowyn, niece of the king of Rohan.

"And what she was doing here," he prompted.

Watching you.

Oh, hells.

Lord Vetinari couldn't help but wonder what kind of an idiot his predecessor (as he chose to think of it) had been. The enemy was practically camping on his lawn! Oh yes, a few spare goons were piling up stones around the-

Pelennor Fields

-around the Pelennor, yes, and all his guards seemed to be simply staring moodily eastward from the walls. The city was eerily empty, like a toy castle under a rich boy's Hogswatch tree, lined as it was with ornamental soldiers. A single thought kept running through his head:

We're all going to die.

He wasn't sure who was thinking it.

"The lord is unwell," hissed the Nazgul.
"I will deliver my message to him," said the nasty little Numenórean, "in person."

The Mouth of Sauron was probably the only non-suicidal in Mordor who dared defy a Ringwraith. Sauron considered him useful, but certainly not indispensable. The Nine considered him a wasp at their picnic; they had been his masters, once. A disgusting little snot, but it would be amusing if the lord lost patience and crushed him.

"I bring news from the borders, O Great One," said the Mouth. He'd been called that at school, too.
"Hmm, island nail file in clockwork paint?"
"A strange creature has been seen in Ithilien, lord. We think it is your spy."
"Yes, that is a nice parrot," simpered the Bursar.
"What shall we do with him, lord?"
"Lie low and eat ice cream, I always say! Medals!"
"Yes, lord," said the Mouth. He gave the Nazgul a smug look on his way out.

The Bursar was far from happy, or would have been were he not so far from reality and far from sanity to boot. He had found a nice glass ball and was sitting on a vast iron throne, turning it over and over in his hands. He giggled a little.
"Syrup of prunes, penny in moons, is this my spoon?" he sang, blissfully unaware of the two hideous creatures in the corridor beyond the hall. "OOOH!" Now the ball showed lots of pretty pictures.

"You know his commands," said the newcomers, who waved a piece of shiny glass.
"Why is that extraordinary?"
"The picture moves."
"Show me." There was a pause. "Go on, then."

"It's the Bursar!" said the picture-Ponder. The Bursar waved back. Then Ridcully came into view.
"Bursaaar! You come back to this dimension at once!"
"Shan't!"
"You're causing trouble!"
The Bursar stuck out his tongue at them. "Leave me alone."
"Bursaaar!" roared the Archchancellor, but to no avail. The Bursar lef the shard of glass face down on his throne.

"We've lost him," sighed Ponder.
"What about the others?" asked Ridcully.
"I don't think they've found their pieces yet. But they will- wait!"
Ridcully stopped mid-groan.
"Look! Commander Vimes' shard!"
A corner of the piece of Omniscope left in UU was moving. Ponder quickly slapped it on the big Omniscope's sensor; the shard's tiny image now filled the screen of the unbroken Omniscope.

The pale face of a young woman wasrising over the edge of the glass. Then it zoomed in; she was picking it up. "Some Northern trinket, she sighed. "Very fine etching. I wonder who they are."
She seemed to be talking to herself; the wizards were careful to keep completely still. The girl sighed again.
"A mirror of home, perhaps. I shall go there one day, when it is my home too."

Only when they saw the picture turn to the white of her pocket did the wizards share a horrified glance. Behind them came the sounds of crunching. "Told you it was good," said Adrian through a mouthful of toast.
"Who was she?" asked Ponder. "It sounded almost as if-"
"Oh, she's in love with Aragorn," he said conversationally. "It's all very sad, on account of him already being involved with an elf, or I think so anyway, I saw the way they was looking at one another before the Council."
"I told you these things aren't supposed to be used for entertainment," said Ponder weakly. Scolding was always a reliable fallback.
"So this... Aragorn," said Ridcully, "he'd be a big leader, eh?"
"Yes, Archchancellor. Anyone would follow him. Even dead people."
"Somehow," Ridcully mused,"I can't see Sam Vimes inspiring mass resurrection. Captain Carrot might have it in him, but... we've really messed things up, haven't we?" he said casually.
"Yes, Archchancellor. We have."