1Disclaimer: I do not own this. Also, please do not flame me for the use of an inauthentic Vulcan word. It is one word and I admit that it is not truly Vulcan in origin, but it was necessary to connect the two worlds

Word to know: "Varda" is the elvish name of the Queen of the Valier. For those of you who knew that, no offense to your intelligence is intended.

Now for the story. MornieGalad

Chapter Three:

Logical Courses of Action

When darkness fell, Rathac slipped the flap of the tent aside and, with as much grace as he could muster, stepped forth. Within this facade, he was indistinguishable from any of the other warriors, save by his slightly clumsy walk due to the excess weight of the armor. Without so much as a look back at his companions, he set off toward the light of a distant campfire. As he passed through the groups of soldiers, few paid him any mind. Many of them were asleep in their own tents and the rest were sitting and talking around the fires.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Rathac asked as he came to a fire near the center of the camp. One of the armored men indicated that he should come sit beside him.

"It's a lovely night," Rathac commented, unsure how to start a conversation. Indeed, the stars above them shone very brightly. The man beside Rathac nodded, but said nothing. He was intent on listening to the soldier who was speaking. In the light of the fire, Rathac saw that it was Cirdan, the Elf who had shown him and his comrades to their tent. The Vulcan silently reminded himself that he needed to be certain he wasn't recognized as an outsider; Captain Spock had greatly emphasized that point. Rathac turned his face slightly away from the fire and listened to the tale Cirdan was relating.

"So Elendil died. I do not know what fate befell Gilgalad, Isildur, and Elrond, but I searched for a while and found no signs of any of them. I did come across a strange ring after the battle, though." One of the men beside Rathac laughed.

"Quiet, lad!" an elderly voice rebuked him from Rathac's other side. "Do not mock what you do not know." The man turned to Cirdan. "Could the whispers have been true, then? Did the dark lord indeed create a ring more powerful than the others?"

"I do not know," Cirdan replied. After a moment, he continued. "May the Valar help me to keep this ring, whatever its nature may be, safe." It took Rathac a moment to process all this. In this world, there was a dark lord, who had somehow disappeared. He might have made a powerful ring and now Cirdan possessed it. Would the logical thing not be to destroy it and purge all memories of the dark lord from this land? Rathac could think of no reason not to do so unless it would cause devastation to follow that path. He should not jump to conclusions so quickly, though, he reminded himself. He had to be calm and truly understand this world. What would Captain Spock do in his position? He would try to gain more information, of course.

"What did this ring look like?" Rathac asked, figuring it was a harmless question, even if it seemed trivial.

"It is a plain ring, really. It wasn't decorated with anything. It is a simple, golden ring," Cirdan was obviously reluctant to display the ring for all to see. Rathac could almost see the conflict within the Elf. The man beside him, who had laughed at Cirdan, now shook his head.

"What is your opinion on the matter, sir?" Rathac inquired.

"They are all making a terrible tragedy from this trinket. If it is indeed Sauron's ring, it will have little power now that he is no more."

"Did you yourself see Sauron's defeat?" Rathac asked.

"Only from a distance, but I saw it."

"How can we be certain that the Dark one is gone forever. A thing does not cease to exist simply because one cannot see it. For example, the wind cannot be seen, yet no one questions its existence."

"Neither can the Valar be seen, unless they choose to take physical form," said the old man, smiling at Rathac.

"You can feel both those things, though," the youth countered.

"I can sense a dark presence here, be it in a shadow of the past or the truth of the present," Rathac said, carefully selecting his words. Cirdan nodded in agreement.

"You are both lunatics, scared of a nightmare that has passed. I take my leave," scoffed the youth. "Farewell for tonight, father," he addressed the old man.

"Do you and your son always disagree so violently?" Rathac asked.

"Only in the matter of politics like these. You will have to forgive him for not introducing himself. His name is Boromir," the old man said, his eyes following his son.

Sarek, Elrond and Isildur sat at the table in the dining area, each attired in Vulcan robes. Isildur looked noticeably uncomfortable beside Sarek at the round table. From another room, a human woman with long white hair entered, carrying the food she had prepared in her arms.

"Sirs, this is my wife, Amanda. Amanda, this is Elrond and this is Isildur, who have come to us."

"Where have you come from?" Amanda asked curiously as they began to eat. She sat down on the other side of her husband.

"We came from a place known as Mordor, which is in Ennorath, or, as it is called in the common tongue, Middle Earth. I do not know how we came to be here."

"Was there any sort of power surge before you arrived here?" Sarek asked after a moment of meditation. Elrond focused upon the memory.

"I believe there was a sort of shock wave when Sauron was destroyed. I couldn't be certain, though, for the next thing I knew, we were here, trudging through the sand." Sarek nodded thoughtfully.

"For now, let us presume that you were sent here by some powerful force, perhaps the shock wave. Were you near to its origin?"

"We were at the very center of it," Isildur answered, raising his head, a strange light reflected in his eyes. Sarek nodded again.

"Then it is logical that you may have been the only ones on your earth to be affected, but there is, for every action, an equal and opposite reaction. Perhaps others from another world have been sent to your world."

In his tent far away, Captain Spock was pondering the same thing while awaiting Rathac's return. He was reflecting upon the events that had transpired just before their arrival. They had been aboard the Vulcan ship Varda, which interpreted as "kindred" in their native tongue, each his of them at his respective position upon the bridge. Spock had been watching the view screen, barely any distance separating him from the stars. Novac had been at the science officer's post, working busily to impress Captain Spock, his hands flying over his instruments and his dark eyes darting occasionally to glance at the legendary figure. Saavik had stood behind Rathac, the calm helmsman. Suddenly, without warning, one of the nearby stars exploded, binding them all. When they recovered their sight, they had found themselves within the battle lines of this army. 'Why here?' Spock wondered. Perhaps Rathac would provide them with more information when he returned.

"He should have returned by now," Novac complained. Spock raised an eyebrow.

"The longer Rathac stays with these people and engages them in conversation, the more beneficial his time will have been."

"That would be a logical conclusion," Novac said, bowing his head. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted."

"The longer Rathac is there, the greater our chances of them discovering us become. I do not intend to demean Ensign Rathac, but the more he says, the more likely he is to slip and reveal our true identities."

"I realize this, but I believe the people have already become suspicious of our origins. Rathac is well disguised and I trust his abilities."

"I hope your faith is not misplaced, Captain. Ensign Rathac is young."

"He may be young, but he is also wise and courageous," Saavik gently said. "The captain of his previous vessel said he had saved their ship upon several occasions and that he is a valued officer." Novac nodded, though he felt a twinge of jealousy take him. He quickly repressed it, his eyes never leaving Spock's form. Had Spock seen the green twinkle in his eye? The Captain's face had remained unchanged, but that was of little assurance to Novac. Breaking the bond between their eyes, Spock lay down, facing the door of the tent, and began his meditation. Saavik followed his example. Both bodies relaxed and it seemed they were outside of the physical world and time. They saw nothing, but felt everything. That was the way it always was in meditation. Then images entered their minds, unbidden. Customarily, Spock saw before him a wheel of stars in the night sky, but this night it was different. Before him he saw the planet Vulcan, the sky blackened. He could feel an evil presence, quite similar to that which he felt in this land where his body was. The beauty of Vulcan's temples had been destroyed and there were Vulcans murdering those who would not bow to their will. Was this scene from Vulcan's dark history before the race had conquered their emotions? Before Spock could discern this, there was a great read fire, piercing through the darkness. It blinded him and nearly made him cry out.

"Captain Spock!" Saavik's alarmed voice broke into his thoughts. "Novac is gone!"

Rathac still sat beside the old man, whose name, he had discovered was Vardil. Most of the other soldiers had retired to bed so that only he, Vardil, and Cirdan remained.

"Shall we break camp and march for our homes tomorrow, lord Cirdan?" Vardil proposed. The Elf nodded.

"Lord Cirdan, I have no place to go. Our village was destroyed by the enemy," Rathac said after Vardil had left.

"You and your companions may come to my dwelling with me, if you wish, Rathac."

"How did you know it was I?"

"Do not be alarmed. Being an Elf, I have very acute senses. I recognized your voice; You did not betray yourself. Listen, I know not who you and your companions are, or where you come from, but I trust you for some reason which I cannot explain. I will tell no one you were here. You have my word. If you wish, I shall also provide your comrades with armor such as that which you wear."

"I am most grateful, my lord Cirdan," Rathac bowed and he began to leave, but paused beside the Elf. "Use great caution with that burden you bear." Cirdan nodded and Rathac disappeared into the night. Neither he nor Cirdan noticed the eyes in the darkness that were fixed upon the Elf.

The room on Vulcan went black all of a sudden. Even Elrond could see nothing. It was as if they had all been blinded. Isildur drew his sword, which he had insisted on keeping with him. Amanda let out a frightened gasp.

"Please, put it away, Isildur," Sarek calmly requested. "Your violence will achieve nothing."

"Does this happen often?" Elrond asked.

"No," was Sarek's reply. "Whatever darkness this is, I have not seen it before." A dark chill passed down Elrond's spine. There was a feeling of dread in the room, an irrepressible fear.

"Could it be?" Elrond wondered aloud. Isildur looked where he assumed the Elf stood.

"It could not be! He was destroyed!" Isildur said hastily. Elrond didn't respond. He didn't have to, for both he and the Gondorian knew in their hearts that it was true. Sauron was there.

A/N Please review. Thank you for reading. Also, the man named Boromir in this chapter is not the same one who is in Lord of the Rings. If he was, he would have to be 3,000 years old. Also, if anyone knows about when Gandalf comes to Middle Earth, that would be very helpful for future chapters. Thanks again. MornieGalad