Disclaimer: I don't own it, Star Trek or Lord of the Rings. I'm in control of everything else, though, so mwahaha.
Chapter 2:
The needs of the Moment
Elrond heard footsteps behind him as he and Isildur stood over the place where they had buried Gilgalad's body. It had no proper identification, save his cloak, which was blowing about in the wind, trying to break free of Aiglos, Gilgalad's spear, which the pair had stuck into the cloak to keep it stationery. Elrond turned into the wind, protecting his eyes from the blowing sand with his shield, looking for any sign of the creator of the footsteps he had heard. In the blinding gusts of sand which were swarming about him, he made out the dark outline of a figure as tall as he, standing atop a hill just above them. He tapped Isildur on his cheek, as his shoulders were armored, and motioned for him to follow in the direction of the figure. Up the dune they trod, sinking into the sand due to the weight of their armor. They could hardly see beyond the sandstorm combined with their long hair whipping into their eyes. Not far behind him, Elrond heard Isildur grunting with effort. Although the trek was difficult, Elrond focused his attention on the silhouette, which became gradually nearer. Amazingly, the figure had not moved in any direction, to the right or left, or otherwise. As he drew nearer, the elf saw through the veil of sand that the figure wore a dark brown cloak, its hands immersed in its sleeves, which were joined together. When he was nearly at the top of the enormous dune, a hand emerged from the end of the left sleeve, which had been released from the other, and grasped Elrond's armored arm to help him up. Isildur arrived moments later. The hooded figure beckoned to them to follow it and started off. The two armored warriors followed, sinking into the sand with every step and battling to move the sand filled metal of their protesting outfits.
"Greetings, commander," a tall person with short, dark hair, olive skin, and pointy ears addressed Cirdan. The messenger had brought the elf to this man and three others who were with him. All of them had short, black hair, just as he, save for their female companion, who had lighter skin and long, curly brown hair. This was the only feature which made them suspicious, but it was enough. It wasn't as if Cirdan distrusted them, he merely didn't believe he had ever seen them, or anyone like them, before.
"What are your names?" the commander demanded. The female stepped forward, but the man in front, who had greeted Cirdan, held her back.
"I am Spock. This is Savic," he held his left hand out open to the woman. "This is Novac and Rathac." The other two bowed, briefly. Cirdan raised an eyebrow.
"What is the origin of your names?" he asked. "It's certainly not elvish, and you are neither dwarves nor humans." Once again, Savic shot a meaningful look at Spock.
"We have become lost. Could you kindly tell us where we are?" she inquired.
'I will tell you where you are if you tell me where you are from," Cirdan agreed.
"We come from far away," Spock replied.
"That could be anywhere," Cirdan countered. "What is your home called?"
"Home," Spock answered.
"What is its name?" Cirdan demanded, not even slightly amused.
"I do not remember. Somehow I remember very little from the time before we arrived here. I do not even know how we came to be in this place, nor where we are."
"You are amidst the ruins of what was, until recently, Mordor," Cirdan informed him. He did not entirely believe the stranger, but rationalized that he would discover the truth of their whereabouts in time. Either that or the strangers would leave. Regardless, it was improbable that these four people could do much harm surrounded by the forces of the elves and men, for although theirnumberhad dwindled considerably due to the results of the battle, they still greatly outnumbered these few strange beings.
"Would you permit us to use a tent, sir? Savic is injured and needs rest," Spock requested.
"Certainly. Would you like me to send a healer to you?"
"No," Savic replied. "I only require a bit of ret before I am fully functional once more." Cirdan nodded and led them through the battlements. As they progressed, the men threw suspicious looks at the newcomers. They didn't seem to heed this, though, but made no attempts at being friendly either. They kept their faces serious, and Novac and Rathac stared straight ahead beyond Spock and Savic. The other two let their eyes wander, but every other part of their being was motionless, save their legs, which carried them in the direction in which Cirdan led them. They came to a vacant blue-grey tent, the one Gilgalad and Elrond had inhabited, and Cirdan drew back the entrance flap, his mind suddenly contemplating his companions' fates. Spock, who had been in the lead, stepped aside to allow the others to enter before him.
"Thank you," he said, facing Cirdan, before bending over and disappearing into the folds of the tent.
"Welcome to Vulcan," Elrond and Isildur's guide greeted them once they were sheltered within a bronze colored building. He removed his hood, revealing a tanned face beaten by the sun, short, snow-white hair, wizened brown eyes, a kind, yet unsmiling, mouth, and, to Elrond's surprise, pointed ears. "I am Sarek."
"I am Isildur, son of Elendil, King of Gondor, and this is Elrond, herald of Gilgalad. Thank you for bringing us here. We are in your debt." Sarek bowed briefly and slightly extended his right hand.
"It is always a privilege to shepherd guests to a safe haven."
"Do many guests come here?" Elrond inquired, hoping to discover if this man knew how they had come to be on Vulcan.
"Yes, many peoples from various places come here to seek knowledge. Is that why you have come?" Elrond hesitated. The question had caught him unprepared to answer. Isildur apparently felt the same way, for he immediately tried to conspicuously remove some of the sand from the joints of his armor. Seeing their hesitation, Sarek asked, "Would you like to be shown to your quarters?"
"Were you expecting us?" Elrond asked, slightly surprised.
"No. I knew nothing of your arrival until I chanced to see you froma window just before the sandstorm began. We always have many guest rooms available because of the many visitors we receive."
"So this is your house?" Isildur asked.
"Yes."
"It's quite convenient." Elrond heard a note of suspicion rising in the Gondorian's voice.
"We would be honored if you would show us to our quarters," the elf decided quickly. Sarek bowed once more and turned toward a flight of stairs. He was followed by the creaking sound of the sand in the metal joints of the armor protesting to movement. Elrond was merely grateful they were no longer sinking into a sea of sand. That had been an awful feeling, he thought, shuddering. He had felt so utterly helpless.
None of them spoke until they arrived at a bronze room. Sarek gestured them inside.
"I will return when the evening meal has been prepared. I will see you then."
"Until then," Elrond replied, bowing, and Sarek left their company.
"How did we get here?" Savic asked of no one in particular. Spock had taken to pacing about the tent and sighed before replying.
"As I have told you ten times before, Mister Savic, I have no idea. The only logical conclusions are that either some force outside of ourselves consciously placed us here or that it was mere coincidence." If Vulcans had emotions, Novac would have been quite annoyed. This had essentially been the extent of their conversation, save for the initial determination that none of them had ever heard the name of Mordor. Among the lot, Rathac was the only one who appeared truly calm. Spock was muttering under his breath, trying to find a way to gain some information while not violating the prime directive. A deep crevice was forming in the earth over the path he had now trod so many times. Savic was working over the same problems, but caged the words in her head, with the occasional question and answer ritual she and Spock were becoming quite fond of, performing it every few minutes. Neither of them seemed to be progressing on any sort of plan, either of gaining information or returning to Vulcan. Novac's accomplishment wasequally unworthy of acknowledgment, as his only words applied to how primitive the society was and how they were still wearing armor and fighting with swords and shields, andbows and arrows. Rathac, who had been leaning against the side of the tent a few feet away from Novac and opposite Spock (at the moment), suddenly rose. He stepped over Savic's legs, who hadn't really been wounded, and went to the back of the tent. There stood a table with a suit of armor placed on it. It was complete with a shield, sheathe, sword, and helmet. Rathac wondered why it was there instead of in use by a member of the army. He found no clues to the mystery upon examination of the object, although he inspected it diligently. The only unusual thing he found was a silver star engraved on the breast of the armor as well as the shield. Thinking through his knowledge of history, Rathac supposed this was the insignia of a country or the symbol of a leader. Pondering this, Rathac formed an idea.
"Captain Spock," Rathac called. Spock didn't look at him or stop pacing. "Captain Spock, I have an idea." The pacing Vulcan now stopped and looked Rathac in the eyes.
"Proceed, ensign," Rathac reminded himself that this gave him permission to speak, not to jump right into carrying out his plan.
"Captain, if I am not mistaken, we need to learn more about our environment and the circumstances of our arrival."
"That is a correct assessment of the situation."
"Suppose one of us were to disguise as a soldier and interact with these people. If we said nothing of Vulcan or the federation, it would be permissible, correct?"
"Yes."
"You are not putting me in that rusty outfit," Novac objected, rising from his seated position.
"Of course not," Spock answered. "If anyone is to go, it should be ensign Rathac. I would be missed because I have made myself obvious to the commander, and Mister Savic would be illogical because of the lack of females present. Ensign," he addressed Rathac, "do not leave until after it is quite dark and be certain that no one will see you emerge from this tent. Return before the dawn, so you will not be seen entering. I will brief you on proper actions for this mission."
I apologize if I mispelled Sarek or Savic's names. Please let me know in either case MornieGalad