Disclaimer: I still do not own this. Sorry about the long time I took to update, but it didn't change that. Fascinating, huh? Oh, yes, just a reminder Boromir in this story is not the Boromir in Lord of the Rings. Thank you everyone who reviewed the last chapter & please don't forget to review this one.
MorniëGalad
Chapter Four:
Paths and Fires
"Where have you been, Ensign?" Spock inquired as Novac silently entered the tent.
"I apologize if my absence was inappropriate, Captain. I felt the fresh air was necessary for my meditation." Saavik nodded.
"Very well, Ensign," Spock replied. "Did you see Ensign Rathac while you were out of doors?"
"Yes, I did. He should return soon, I believe. I was not seen, though, for I remained behind the tents and in the shadows."
"That was a logical action," Saavik admitted.
"Thank you. Most of the people are now asleep in their tents, so Ensign Rathac will have no difficulty returning to us." A moment later, a figure clad in armor entered the room, not saying a word.
"Speak," Spock commanded.
"I am Boromir, son of Vardil and I demand to know who you are and where you are from!"
"I regret I cannot tell you that at this time," Spock replied calmly.
"You might say that to the Elven captain, or even to my father, but you shall not place a veil over my eyes. Your reluctance to speak proves what I believed from the start. You are spies who seek to win safety now that your master has been destroyed."
"We are not spies," Saavik declared simply.
"Then, why do you not say what you are? You are cowards and you shall die the deaths of cowards." The man drew his sword and, just as he prepared to advance on them, an armored arm slunk from behind the folds of the tent door and a hand tightened about Boromir's neck. The soldier crumpled to the ground. Soundlessly, Rathac, the armored figure, lifted the unconscious man and carried him through the lines of tents to the place where the center fire was smouldering to little more than ashes. The final sparks flickered and disappeared as Rathac placed the man on the ground. The stars lit his path as he made his way back to his comrades.
"Do not be alarmed; it is I," he whispered as he pulled the flap aside and entered the tent.
"Who was that, Rathac? Did you speak with him?" Saavik asked.
Rathac told them of all he had seen and heard. When he spoke of the ring, even the light breeze, which had constantly danced with the tent flap, stopped, and it seemed that the stars had grown darker and the voice of Rathac had softened. In the moments after his tale had been concluded, silence filled the room.
"Perhaps you should remove your armor, Ensign," Novac suggested. Rathac complied.
"I shall be grateful for a few hours without its weight. Lord Cirdan will come before the dawn with armor for us all." Once again, a dark silence filled the room. "I apologize if the information I gathered was inadequate."
"No, Rathac, you did well," Spock replied. "You were cautious and logical in your inquiries so as not to reveal your identity."
"Yet Cirdan recognized him despite it all," Novac said, meeting Rathac's eyes for a moment.
"Yes," Rathac whispered, bowing his head. "I found I could not have prevented it. Perhaps if someone with more experience had gone. . ."
"Rathac," Spock and Saavik spoke at the same time. Spock continued "The thing that has past cannot be altered. Therefore, what might have been is irrelevant. The important factor is for this experience to add to your knowledge. Thus, the future can be altered through this experience." Rathac raised his head and nodded.
"We should sleep now," Saavik advised. "Our strength will be needed tomorrow when we venture out with Lord Cirdan." The four Vulcans lay on the ground and were all asleep within moments.
"Do you know what is causing this darkness?" Sarek asked.
"Yes, we do. There can be no doubt about it," Elrond replied. "It is the dark lord Sauron from our world. I do not know how he yet possesses his power, though, for I saw Isildur cut the ring of power from his finger and I saw him destroyed, yet he is here."
Silently, so as not to alarm Amanda, Isildur drew his sword once more. Slowly, he slipped through the darkness to the door of Sarek's house. It made no sound as the handle moved under his unseen fingers and it opened as silently as if the world had become deaf. One foot left the house of darkness and entered the dark, lightless world as the other followed. Behind him, the door closed of its own accord.
Isildur could see nothing. He could be certain of nothing save the sword he clutched tightly in his hand. He could feel nothing save the darkness, which had no true sensation, being neither warm nor cold. It held only anger and power. He suddenly felt desperate, almost afraid. Sauron's return meant he had failed, he thought. No, he had been so certain, but now the truth, the black truth of it all, was before his eyes, covering the planet as the sunlight should have.
"I am Isildur, son of Elendil and heir to the throne of the Numënorian land of Gondor. I do not fear thee, Sauron of Mordor, and I do not call thee Lord. I struck at you once and I shall do so again if ever you escape the fear which hides you in this darkness. By the blood of my father Elendil, high king of Gondor, you shall pay for the crimes you have committed against our people and the world of Middle Earth. The darkness that you are shall be bathed in light." Isildur thrust his sword above his head, his hand tight around it. For an instant, the tip of the blade twinkled like a star in the heavens.
"Isildur!" Elrond cried, grasping him and dragging him inside the house. "Do not be a fool. Is Sauron not the deceiver? What better way to deceive is there than to draw people into the darkness? Deception can only be defeated by the truth."
"I uttered no falsehood!" Isildur protested, struggling to escape the Elf's hold on him.
"Anger will solve nothing," Sarek's calm voice said, sounding distant and unfeeling to Isildur's ears. "The fire of light must be kindled with patience, knowledge, and wisdom. Those who hurl a torch blindly may well start a disastrous blaze, costing many lives."
"Those are your people whose minds will be corrupted. Do you not see it? Do you not care?"
"I care, Isildur," Sarek answered, sounding weary. "I am a Vulcan, though. Our race learned ages ago to repress our emotions so they cannot possess us. I have faith that my people will withstand Sauron's advances until a solution can be found."
At that instant, a small flame appeared. "I found a candle," Amanda explained as the light drew closer and was placed on the table. Slowly, Isildur returned his sword to his sheath.
Rathac felt the earth vibrate slightly against his head. Footsteps! They were approaching the tent and there was not time enough for Rathac to don his armor. His only hope was that it was Cirdan who was coming. It was early dawn, for though the sun had not yet risen, the stars were fading. The flap of the tent was drawn aside.
"Good morning, Lord Cirdan," Rathac greeted the Elf, rising when he saw that it was indeed he. He hastened to aid him with his load, for true to his word, Cirdan bore three suits of armor, like in kind to that which he himself wore.
"Awaken your friends soon, for we leave at dawn," Cirdan whispered and then left. Spock rose before Rathac could say a word.
"Saavik, Novac, we must be leaving soon," the captain said, giving Saavik a gentle nudge. They both awoke and soon four soldiers stood where they had. The sun was peering over the edge of the world now.
"I would have liked to have a bit more time to practice walking in this," Saavik commented. She, Spock, and Novac were having some difficulty walking in their new attire, though Spock was more adaptable to the conditions than either of the others. Rathac, who had already had a bit of experience from the night before, looked almost natural in his shining armor.
"Mister Saavik, do not forget that you are not to speak, for that would betray our identities," Novac reminded her. Saavik nodded, though Novac could scarcely see her beneath his helmet.
"The dawn is upon us," Rathac observed. "We must find Lord Cirdan. Come." He led them through the lines of soldiers disassembling their bivouacs. They found the Elf lord near the center of the camp, surrounded by a multitude of other soldiers. Cirdan motioned to them to come to his side. As the warriors marched, the four disguised Vulcans made their way forward through the troops to him.
"These are my kindred," he whispered when the Vulcans had come to his side. "They are mostly from the realms of Lòthlòrien, Mirkwood, and the newly formed realm of Imladris, which Lord Elrond, who vanished along with Gilgalad and Isildur, founded. Once they have returned to their homes, I shall show you my dwelling in Mithlond, the Grey Havens. If I do say so myself, it is a beautiful place, just as Lorien and Imladris are."
Before long the plain on which the army had been camping faded into the distance and they began to climb up steep mountains. Novac and Saavik slipped quite a bit on the rough terrain due to the extra weight they were carrying, falling behind Cirdan. Spock and Rathac aided them as much as possible, but the four of them easily fell to the back of the lines. The entire day was spent venturing up and down the mountains.
As the sun set, they descended the final cliff in sight, much to their relief. The Elves had set up camp at the base of the mountain by the time the last of the group arrived. The assembly had greatly diminished without the Gondorians, but the same tent formation of a few parallel rows remained. Fires had been lit between them and dinner was being prepared. Cirdan sat alone beside the remotest fire in one of the corners. The four Vulcans processed through the camp, more comfortably than they had that morning, for they had become a bit more accustomed to their attire.
"I hope the day was not too difficult for you," Cirdan whispered as they sat down. "Tomorrow will be easier, for the Plains of Dagorlad lie before us."
"That is a relief," Novac whispered.
"Here," Cirdan said, drawing a wafer from his bag. "Have a bite of this. It's lembas bread and will sustain you for a day." Each Vulcan took a bite and then Rathac handed the remainder of the wafer back to the Elf. They soon retired to their tents and engaged in the ritual meditation, their armor still on their backs. Once again, Spock saw the image of his home planet in jeopardy.
They traveled in this manner for days. On the evening of the eighth day, they arrived on the borders of the land of Lòthlòrien.