Disclaimer: Arda belongs to Tolkien. All other planets mentioned belong to Ambrosia Software and ATMOS. Nil'Tanar and Ryllaen are mine.
Unless specifically stated otherwise, everything spoken is in the native language of the speaker. Ie, the Elves speak Sindarin, Nil'Tanar speaks Polaran, and Ryllaen speaks Federation Basic.
The sky was unfamiliar, a pale blue not quite like any he could remember seeing before. It was not the thin misty grey of Nil'ar Peset, nor the deep purple/blue of Nil'ar Riai, nor yet the rich azure of Nil'ar Narada. No, this sky did not belong to any of the training planets, and it was certainly not the artificial sky of the great ringworld Tre'ar Helonis, the habitat of his birth. Nil'Tanar stared at it for a long time, trying to place it. At length he decided it looked so strange because it was in fact a sky and not the green and purple walls of a Manta. That thought brought him to full awareness. In a dizzying rush his memories returned: the Federation fleet, the now fatal damage to his Manta - his first, and his heart ached for the loss - and the distress call; the Vell-os intruder.
Nil'Tanar sat up carefully. He felt more bruised and battered than he'd ever been in his eight decades of life, but he had suffered no serious injuries; the worst was a pounding headache courtesy of the Vell-os energy blast. A quick look around showed that he was alone, save for the unconscious Vell-os, in a landscape of hills and not much else; they were sitting in a small blackened crater caused by the impact of the Vell-os shields, and Nil'Tanar winced to think of what would have happened had the Vell-os lost consciousness earlier. Two of his daggers were in their sheaths, a third lying not far away in the crater. He picked it up and returned it to its proper resting place, touching the final empty sheath briefly with one hand. He had lost the fourth on his Manta against the Vell-os intruder. Nil'Tanar squinted into the sky, studying it for any signs of movement. There were none, and a few attempts on his personal communicator soon convinced him that not only was the planet uninhabited, but so was the rest of the system.
The Polaran cast a considering look on the Vell-os. A quick search reassured him that the jumpsuit contained no hidden weapons, and a somewhat rougher examination told Nil'Tanar that the long-haired telepath was still alive and mostly uninjured, though he was unable to wake him. After a moment he decided that, enemy or no, he could currently see no way of leaving the planet and returning to his station without the Vell-os' aid. With the self-confidence of the young warrior, Nil'Tanar slung the man over his shoulders and started walking towards the glint of water he'd spotted in the distance.
"My lord, a falling star!"
Elrond looked up, and smiled to see two of his counselors approach him with the excitement of children.
"Indeed there is cause for wonder. Though we have seen them burn across the sky before, never in the light of day," he said, teasing them lightly.
"A falling star, my lord." There was a hint of reproach and laughter in the other's voice.
Glancing at his companion, Glorfindel presented his side of the argument. "Not a star," he said. "Something set aflame falling from high above, though at such a distance I could see no more than the light it cast. It fell and I believe it touched land to the east, beyond the mountains."
Elrohir shrugged. "Stars do not do that," he conceded. "It is strange." He looked hopefully at his father.
"You want to see for yourselves what this burning thing is." Elrond followed their thoughts with ease; he knew his counselors well, and it was easy enough to read on their faces.
"Nothing has tried the borders in months. The lands are peaceful, there are no messages of import to be sent, Elladan has gone to see Cirdan, and-"
"And you want to show me that you can get into as much mischief without your brother as with him," Elrond finished, a smile dancing on his lips. He turned to Glorfindel. "And you?"
"I am curious," the golden-haired Elf-lord said simply.
Elrond laughed lightly. He thought a moment before giving his permission; Elrohir was right in saying he had no urgent need for their presence. "Go, then. Bring tidings of what you find back to me; I am curious also."
The lord of Imladris looked out of the study's window, beyond the valley to the east. His voice, when he spoke, was distant with vision of things the others could not see. "I think you will find a tale like none other we have heard."
Animal howls and crude sounds came from below, a clearing just visible in the woods at the foot of the hill. They held Nil'Tanar's attention. The sounds seemed out of place in this desolate land, the first sign of animate life he had seen or heard all day. He glanced at the Vell-os; still unconscious, laid down under the semi-shelter of rocks and thick foliage. Cautiously, as silently as he could manage, Nil'Tanar started down towards the source of the sounds. It had been nearly thirty years since he'd last tried to move stealthily on a wooded planet - a training exercise - but he remembered some of it and managed to make little sound. His cloak, the hard grey that blended in more with starships than it did with trees and dirt, was dark enough to give him some camouflage in the shadows of dusk.
The authors of the voices were visible in the light of crude flaming torches. From his vantage point on an outcropping of rock, Nil'Tanar stared at them. Beasts similar to dogs roamed restlessly around the clearing, occasionally lifting muzzle to sky and howling; the others, somewhat humanoid, spoke in harsh angry voices that he could not understand. They wore crude armour of metal and animal skin, and wielded crude weapons poorly alloyed. They seemed little more than beasts themselves. Nil'Tanar backed away silently and returned to his small camp beside the stream.
So. This planet was inhabited, but by primitives. Still it gave Nil'Tanar a little more hope. Perhaps... perhaps his communicator was broken and help was not so nonexistent as he had thought. Or perhaps he might find medicines for the Vell-os. He was worried: the man hadn't woken up at all. He needed the Vell-os for the transport he could provide.
Nil'Tanar shook his head ruefully. He was not Ver'ash to heal the man or fix the equipment. He was Nil'kemorya, a member of the warrior caste. Never before had he felt the desire to be something different. He felt that desire now, sharply, and knew as well that only with warrior training was he likely to survive on this planet. He had the training: Nil'Tanar pushed aside the wish for more with the practicality he had been taught, though the rueful thought occurred that he should have paid more attention in the compulsory six month cross-caste training he had attended back on Nil'ar Peset many years ago. He would seek help in the morning: Iusa, he was so very tired right now.
The Vell-os groaned, his face twisting into an expression of pain that slid beneath the surface as quickly as it had come. Nil'Tanar looked at him hopefully, but he did not stir further. With a soundless sigh the Polaran settled down to keep watch through the night, thinking on the intruder that was his only company. As little as he had seen of him, the Vell-os was not quite what he had expected from those class-room lessons. He had the long hair and the utilitarian jumpsuit, and Nil'Tanar presumed he had the nanite-producing organs as well. But he was not... Nil'Tanar did not know what he had expected. Something more grand, more like the heroes he had envisioned from the history books as a boy, the Vell-os who had interceded between the Colonial Council and the Polaris, bringing the full wrath of the former down on themselves. That wrath had been great: nothing was left of the Vell-os civilization save for some few planets still drenched in deadly radiation seven centuries later in the lonely stretches of galactic east; remnants of their cultural artifacts mouldering in private collections and small museums across the galaxy; and the Vell-os themselves, pitiful and diminished descendants of a once great people, shackled to their conquerors. This Vell-os was nothing like that dimly remembered image. It had been there when he piloted his ship, standing tall and proud, eyes distant and filled with the echo of the wise farseeing gaze of his forebears. But it was gone now, and the man that lay senseless beneath a boulder was nothing more than a part of the Federation that was a thorn in the Polaris' side. Nil'Tanar sighed again and turned back to face the darkness of the forest on all sides. Very soon, he was asleep, a lapse of discipline his past instructors would have frowned upon during training, but understood in the fully-fledged warrior as the exhaustion it was.
----------------------------------------------
The strange creatures were gone. Nil'Tanar stared down at the clearing in consternation. They had left while he slept, and now he had no one to ask for aid. Not that he knew how to ask and make himself understood without getting himself killed, but he would cross that barrier when he came to it. He set the Vell-os down while he considered his next move. The creatures, primitive though they might be, were the only indication of civilization he had yet seen on this planet. In the end, there was little choice. Nil'Tanar picked up his sleeping burden and began walking, following the clearly visible tracks.
The trees rose higher and thicker about him, until the sun no longer penetrated the leaves and left its mark as a dim pervasive glow. The shadows were deep enough that the young warrior was partially blinded, and the roots of the trees were tangled mazes knotted over the ground. He stumbled over a root that seemed to have moved into his path, the branches that he grabbed for support eluding his grasp. The stumble turned into a fall, the fall into a noisy tumble down the steep side of a small ravine. Instinctively rolling into a ball as best he could while still clutching his burden, Nil'Tanar kept a painful silence as he fell helplessly, bouncing off trees and receiving a multitude of small scratches from the sharp twigs that whipped about in his passage. He hit the stream below with a noisy splash and gasped as the chill invaded his clothes.
Nil'Tanar struggled out of the water, dragged the Vell-os after him. His cloak, heavy and sodden, clung to his arms and legs, hampering his movements. He cursed his own clumsiness as he pushed it back over his shoulders and once again picked up the Vell-os. Nil'Tanar staggered a little; the man was not light, and he'd been carrying him for the better part of two days on a stomach that had not seen sustenance in more than three - the last meal had been several hours before the battle. Groaning at the thought of food and trying to ignore the demands from his stomach and aching arms, Nil'Tanar started towards the end of the ravine.
The crunch of booted foot against stone and deep-throated growl was all the warning he received. Nil'Tanar dropped the Vell-os and took up a defensive posture, knives in hand. The trees were a visual barrier he could not pierce, though the trunks here were wider apart and left more room between them; he caught but a glimpse of the leaping wolf before it was upon him. Nil'Tanar shifted to the side and brought his knife up and down across the creature's throat; it fell twitching to the ground. More wolves came, and strange humanoids. Training and instinct took over. The Polaran warrior fought grimly, knowing that it was only through their disorganisation and relative clumsiness that he was still standing at all. Adrenalin had given him more strength than he had thought he possessed a moment ago, but he was surrounded; he could not move to a better position for fear of leaving the Vell-os exposed. He killed a creature, and another and another. Wounds were received as fast as he dealt them, and still more creatures were appearing.
Iusa, Nil'Tanar thought in despair. There are so many!
The attacks came from all directions. He blocked a blow, leaving his side open. Out of the corner of his eye Nil'Tanar saw a crudely wielded spear dive in with deadly accuracy, helpless to defend against it. And out of the corner of his eye, he saw the spear and its wielder become wreathed in killing energy, saw them disintegrate in a burning flash that left only scorched ground and the smell of ozone.
The attackers drew back; Nil'Tanar risked a glance down. The Vell-os was finally awake, but that one blast had been too much in his weakened state and he lay in a sweating, shivering heap, eyes glazed with exhaustion and pain. Shrill cries mixed with anger and fear warned Nil'Tanar of his peril; he looked up to see the creatures press their attack with greater ferocity. A sword brushed his side, sharp teeth dug into his leg. Nil'Tanar let out a howl of pain and killed both creatures in a frantic blur of strength. His legs buckled beneath him and he fell to his knees. He waited for the creatures to close in, determined to fight to the end. Though such an end; Nil'Tanar had been fully prepared to die in battle, in defence of the Polaris race. This, this dying at the hands of strange creatures on an unknown planet, was not what he had imagined would be his final journey.
He blinked blood out of his eyes and waited. And waited. Dazed with pain and exhaustion, Nil'Tanar slowly realised that the creatures weren't attacking. In fact, they were fleeing, and many were falling dead as they ran. He did not question this small miracle, letting relief wash over him. Struggling to rise, Nil'Tanar dimly heard new voices shouting words he could not understand, until he lifted his head and saw... others, weapons aimed at him in a distinctly threatening manner, faces stern. They shouted again; he could only shake his head.
Something brushed against his uninjured leg; he looked down at the Vell-os. "They said," the telepath struggled to speak, "not to move and... drop your weapons."
Cautiously, knowing he had no real choice and no strength left to resist, Nil'Tanar loosened his blood-slicked grip on his knives. They fell, and some of those facing him relaxed. They called out another command. Nil'Tanar did not hear it, or hear the Vell-os' translation. He felt his body collapse, distantly, as if watching from afar, and followed the path his knives had taken into darkness.
Thankyou to the people who reviewed!
L. Byron: I'll try to keep it that way :) Thanks for being my first ever reviewer! I'm flattered that you put me in your favourite stories list.
greanleafgrl: Thanks for your review! You're not far wrong about the title: it's from "Until the End of Time" by... I'm not sure who sings it, to be honest. It happened to be running on continuous loop through my head when I needed a title.