Hey ! Another chapter to explain some background. Basically, Frances, Mulder and Scully (X-Files) broke out into Cheyenne Moutain's complex the year before, investigating some rumors about an alien activity run by the government. Of course, they were caught, and put in jail in the complex. It was, fortunately for them, the moment the ancient God and Goa'uld Hathor decided to pay a visit to the SGC. At this point, having seduced all the men in the base, the women resorted to free the two female prisoners to get some help. If some of you watch Stargate SG1, in this episode, Jack O'Neill is chosen by Hathor to mate with him. Something he is NOT proud of :)
Needless to say, Frances fought well. And Mulder and Scully, having discovered the siege of alien activities, decided to join the program instead of ending up in jail.
The glittering caves had left him speechless and for once, Legolas had regained his humour by telling Gimli that only a dwarf could render them justice. Aglarond, as named by the Numenoreans millennia ago, shook him to the core such was the amazement of its pillars and structures. The natural light was reflected on the rock walls, shining like tiny diamonds, the caves glittering from the very bottom to the top of its elegant arches. It should have been … it WAS a magnificent sight.
But ever since the war, the elf only watched the world from afar. It was so rare now that he would marvel at the beauty laid before his eyes, his visit to Fangorn's forest only a reminder of his former ability to be joyful. For his sorrow was great, and expanding. Who would have believed it? That he could feel, now, more miserable than with Frances' blood coating his tunic? Yet, his despair kept growing, gnawing at the tiny threads of sanity that had kept him grounded until now.
Of Aragorn's coronation and wedding, he kept a few vague souvenirs. A song, a ray of sunshine lighting King Elessar from above as it the powers had acknowledged his efforts. But no Valar had come thanking him, the poor elf, for his own sacrifice. The loss of his mate, her Feä torn from this world as she travelled to a strange destination in the hope to be whole again. There had been so much blood, her blood, pooling on his skin, hot and sticky. Her life force fleeing her body as he held her, desperately praying, shaking like a leaf. This souvenir would haunt him for the rest of his days.
Had she made it home alive? Had her doctors been able to save her? For days now, he had prayed that she would. He had been so ready to follow her, saying his goodbyes in a flash to a stunned Aragorn on the battle field, a letter addressed to his father in Gimli's saddlebag. He had braced for the loss of his family, his world, his forest, and the more than two thousand years of his former life. He had lived aplenty; that choice was definitive. But when his fingers had closed upon the void, the blue light taking Frances from him but rejecting him, Aragorn had to restrain him from doing anything stupid. For the first time in his life, Legolas had longed for death to take him! How ironic, after battling for his life like a demon, that he would so willingly choose to die. But the pain in his chest was so raw, so excruciating that he would have done anything to make it stop.
The healers had drugged him. For days, he had travelled on a cart, Gimli by his side, with the wounded soldiers of Gondor. Until his pride took over, and the promise he had made to Frances. He needed to go on living; he had sworn to her, on the hill below the moonlight, that he would seek to heal. And this promise only kept him alive. Gimli took him to Fangorn to ease his fears and attempt to heal his Feä. Brave and gentle dwarf, who dared hoping that his friend could be whole again by wandering through the forest. But how could he, when every breath he took reminded him that half of his heart was missing?
Speaking of Gimli, the dwarf seemed to have disappeared. Not that it was uneasy, for the sheer size of the caves could have misled any living being. But not a dwarf, not THIS dwarf. Trying his best to focus on reality, and the present moment, Legolas started wandering through the caves in search of his friend. When a faint echo reached his sensitive ears, he knew he had found him. Cocking his head to the side, Legolas waited for more noise. But his ears could not peek more than a few shuffles; never before had Gimli been so silent. Frowning, the elf wondered why his friend seemed so intend on escaping his notice. How preposterous for Gimli to believe that he could sneak away! Following the faint sounds that betrayed him, the elf's silent footsteps hid his stealthy approach to the oblivious dwarf.
His steps lead him to the bottom of the tremendous cave, right into a narrow opening. Unbidden souvenirs of Moria, and the path of the dead were forced down without a second thought. The elf certainly did not want to revisit those, especially now that Frances was not there to share his misery. Passing through dark corridors, and narrow passageways, Legolas progressed without a sound, all senses alert. The light flicker of a torch led him all the way through the darkness. A thousand questions escorted his progress as he wondered where Gimli might be. He only hoped, with all his heart, that the dwarf had not fallen to his death somewhere. His silent approach went unnoticed; not a sound filtered through the damp corridor until he emerged on the other side. Yet, what he found stole his breath away.
Gimli was there, kneeling on the floor, facing a wall embedded with gems that reflected the torch light in a million sparkles. What a merry dance it would be when the torch was lifted from the dwarf's hand and roamed around the tiny cave! Still, something felt wrong. Gimli's stillness and the furrow of his eyebrows showed his intense concentration. What had his friend's attention so turmoiled that he wouldn't even register his presence in such a confined space? A rush of panic seized him suddenly, his eyes settling on the huge gem that stood but inches from the dwarf's face. Would dragon sickness claim his closest friend like it had claimed Thorin Oakenshield?
Legolas stomped on the ground on purpose, calling the dwarf's attention, his eyes set on his face. A flash of guilt passed through Gimli's eyes; it did not bode well.
- "Ah, Legolas. My friend"
Said friend frowned at the dwarf's uneasiness.
- "What have you found that has enthralled you so?"
Gimli was practically bouncing on his feet as he laughed.
- "Me, enthralled? Come on, pointy ears, I am not one to be moved by pretty gems, although I can vouch for the quality of those. We are made of sturdier stuff that those wraiths. But come, let us resurface, I am sure you need to hug a tree after so much time underground."
The dwarf lifted his torch, and passed Legolas swiftly in hopes of escaping the vault. The sharp intake of breath from his friend told him he had been too slow. Damn him for letting his mind wander too long! He should have made sure to keep Legolas from seeing this. But it was too late now. The elf's gaze was fixated on the gem, its colours revealed by the change of light. A blue so deep, deeper even than the elf's gaze, an electric blue he had only seen once. The blue rock of Frances' necklace!
Two days! Two days since he had reluctantly left the elf in that cave, and he was no closer to finding a way to extract him. Gimli paced, digging a trench in the dry ground, feeling totally at loss. Legolas was a wood elf, for Mahal's sake! Not fit to stay underground, especially without food nor sleep. But the last time he had checked on him, his friend had not moved, meditating, praying to the Valar, considering, pondering, in front of this damned blue rock. And no matter how much coaxing and cajoling the dwarf had tried, Legolas had remained unmovable. How deeply he regretted now not to have fled the moment his eyes fell upon it! How stupid he had been, to consider if he should, or not, reveal its existence to his friend.
Gimli sighed. One more day. One last one, and he would find a healer to drug the elf's water pouch again. He would not let his friend here to die in front of a shiny stone‼! Granted, its colours were indescriptible, and the gem altogether magnificent. But it was just a stone. The dwarf snorted. If Gloin, his father, heard him, he'd never hear the end of it. Granting more value to a pointy-eared friend than to such a tremendous gem, had his son gone totally mad through this quest? But Gimli had gone a long way from his former self by setting a foot in the golden wood. Galadriel, at first, had been the one to shatter his old beliefs. And Legolas's friendship had finished the job.
The night was settling, dampness falling onto the barren earth of Helm's deep when a lonely figure emerged from the caves. Gimli squinted in the darkness. Was he dreaming, or was Legolas's inner light brighter than the past month? The elf plopped down beside him, his posture weary, but tension erased from his shoulders. Keeping his comments at bay about the less than graceful landing of his ever-perfect friend, Gimli waited for him to open up. Long minutes passed before Legolas's voice was heard, and the dwarf carefully refrained from commenting. The brooding elf needed the release, and if he didn't bleed out his grief, Gimli would be overjoyed to hear him talk about it.
- "I have prayed the Valar, a hundred, nay, a thousand times to bring her back to me. But as I settled in front of the rock that had the potential to do so, I suddenly realised I had not clarified the reasons for my plea,"
Gimli nodded, his brows furrowed. What better reason than to ask for the return of his Feä-mate? But once more, Legolas's wisdom and selflessness struck him speechless.
- "What if Frances has regained her world, got back to her friends, her family, her life? What if I tear her away from the place where she belongs in a selfish prayer?"
The dwarf grunted in displeasure.
- "Legolas. I see how her absence affects you. It is dreadful, to say the least! I cannot watch your suffering and do nothing, what kind of friend would I be if I did not help you?"
The elf's blue eyes twinkled with unshed tears, marvelling at the loyalty of his newfound friend. For nearly three thousand years, he had been prejudiced against dwarves, and found now that this connection ran deeper, stronger than most of the friends he had back home. Not that he could claim many by this title, being the Prince tended to create an unavoidable distance.
- "And help me you did, and still do. But heed me Gimli, it is not my choice to make. The choice lies entirely with her, and even though she should decide to come back, I do not know if she would have the means."
- "Legolas. You have strong ties to your world, strong friendships in the fellowship, and a duty to the people of Greenwood. Yet, for the love of her, you were ready to leave all of it behind!"
Gimli's voice had risen to a whole new level, matching his annoyance. He couldn't, for the life of him, understand the meaning of this conversation. Legolas loved Frances, Frances loved Legolas, period. Why was the pointy-eared discussing theology and ethics in such a moment?
- "It would be unfair of me to ask so much from such a youth. I have had nearly three thousand years to perform my duty and enjoyed my life with the people I loved. But Frances is human; her lifespan with her youngest brother is of twelve years only, and he is not grown up yet. It is, by no means, equivalent to what the Valar granted me. I cannot ask it of her. I will not"
Legolas's heart constricted. Despite his assured words, his rash decision to leave with Frances had been the most difficult of his long life. In the three seconds it had taken to decide, panic had settled in his heart. His father would have been devastated. And Estel, dear Estel to whom he had sworn an oath, the promise to help him rebuild Gondor and Arnor should the need arise. The thought of his betrayal to middle earth, to the Sylvan and Sindar elves of Greenwood longing for his return had covered him in shame. But none of this could be mentioned; he would take it to his final resting place. No one, except for Aragorn and Gimli, knew about his rash choice on the battlefield. And it would stay so. Yet, his resolve had not faltered as his hand had seized Frances over the necklace … only to be left behind, wondering if she had died on the other side, utterly helpless. After nearly abandoning his people, he had abandoned her.
A log popped in the fire, and beside him, Gimil grumbled.
- "I tend to forget how young she is…"
The elf sighed, putting those thoughts to rest. After his discovery in the glittering caves, things had considerably changed.
- "So did I. For a daughter of men, I have found her very knowledgable, and wise beyond her years. Still, I knew that our time together would be short."
The dwarf snorted this time. Short did not even come close to the sorry excuse they had got, especially since those few days had been marred by the war with Sauron!
- "Three days… Three days ! A short time with her should have been seventy years, not three days ! Does it not make a difference to you ?"
Legolas's intense gaze darkened, matching the tightening of his jaw, as he bore holes into his friend's face.
- "Do you really think I do not care, Gimli ?"
The dwarf blinked, surprised by his friend's outburst, but not by the lingering anger. He deserved every bit of it, and braced himself to take the brunt of Legolas's tongue lashing… which never came. As soon as the fire lit in Legolas's eyes, it was put out by a wave of sadness.
- "It does … tremendously. But I cannot linger on what was not granted."
Getting frustrated with himself, Gimli tried to attack the problem at another angle.
- "I understand. But of her situation, we know nothing."
Legolas's head suddenly shot up, a sad smile spreading upon his lips.
- "I felt her, while in the cave. The bond we share, dimmed to almost nothing, but she is alive ! I thought it was the proximity of the gem, this is why I refused to leave until I realised that I carry this bond within me. My distress was so great that I could not realise it sooner."
- "This is great news indeed! Were you able to communicate with her ?"
- "Nay. The bonds would not allow us to do so, it is mainly a connection within our two hearts, nothing so constructed as language or thoughts. But at least, it puts my mind to rest about her well-being. It did not abandon her to die in the unknown. My decision to send her back saved her life."
- "That's a relief"
- "Yes. It will take time for me to accept that she is gone, but time is something that I have aplenty"
Gimli nodded. Acceptance. This would be a difficult struggle for Legolas. And to help him, he was ready to do the unthinkable. Gimli was going to come along to Greenwood the Great, the only place on Arda he had sworn he would never set foot upon.
The sweat soaked sheets seemed to weave a web around her, the tendrils of pale cotton twisting around her limbs and tightening their trap each time she moved. As darkness descended upon her, Frances knew she was going to die, trapped into those foul beasts' lair. Already, she heard the shuffling of their horrendous bodies into the leaves of sickened trees, the slight vibration of their too numerous legs on her web mattress, and their whispers, their screeches. The young woman was too terrified to let out more than a whimper; tears silently falling on her damp cheeks. She had but a few seconds before one of those ghastly spiders stung her and then… she would liquefy without a sound to be fed upon like a milkshake !
A terrible screech tore at her eardrums, and Frances tried to free her hands to cover them, shaking like a leaf. Another screech, a great splash and then… nothing. Nothing but the emptiness of forest around her, it's sickness quietly sweeping through Frances' mind. Suddenly, someone seized her arm and she screamed in terror, only to find a pair of familiar eyes.
- "Daro !"
Frances' mouth closed in shock, her gaze fixed on the marchwarden. In a swish of his blade, the webs tangled around her limbs were severed, and right before she fell, his hand came to support her.
- "Come, quickly," he added in westron.
Frances swallowed, and nodded as he darted off into the trees. It was a struggle to follow him, for he was all graced and agility in this tangled maze of branches. But then, just as the horizon lightened and she thought, with relief, that they would be free, Haldir turned to her. Frances nearly crashed against him, her hand shooting up to grab a branch to stop.
- "What… ?'
Her sentence was interrupted by Haldir's pained expression, then he fell to his knees. Frances jumped forward, receiving the marchwarden in her arms right before he crashed to the ground. A crimson line had appeared on his back, a line of blood flowing like a river. Behind him stood an Uruk, smiling, his sword raised high. Frances started in horror into the sadistic gleam of his yellow eyes, the horrendous stench of his body appalling. One mighty swing, and they would both be dead.
"UNSCHEDULED OFF-WORLD ACTIVATION"
The alarm shook the base, and Frances was startled awake.
- "What the … ?"
Rushing out of bed, she jumped into her BDU, trying to rein her frantic breathing. The nightmare, still vivid in her mind, combined with the panic of the alarm had her heart beating a hundred miles a minute. Her foot caught into the bottom of the military pants, and she toppled over, landing sideways on her bed. Her calf hit the metal railing of the bedframe, and she swore, rubbing the sore spot. It would probably bruise. The interruption gave her mind a much-needed break as she started thinking rationally. Maybe she should stay here, and have a shower instead of rushing to the gate room and be in people's way. Cheyenne mountain complex was filled to the brim with soldiers trained to respond to any kind of threat. And they could be varied and inventive. But if an evacuation was needed, the speakers would divulge the information. Here, no one really needed her help.
Sighing, Frances undressed and stepped into the shower. An hour later, the young woman made her way to the mess for breakfast. By now, she knew that the off-world activation had been SG11 returning early because of some disagreement with a group of locals, something that Mulder must have been unable to smooth out. She respected her friend for being quite reasonable, and always accommodating. Yet, he was no trained anthologist like Dr Jackson, something, it took a touch of geekitude to understand protohistoric cultures. As her intern, she spent most of her time in his office. Something that would be better qualified as a den such was the mess that covered every single surface. But Dr Jackson knew where every single piece of paper was, quite a feat in itself. It was such a feminine trait, something for which she could muster some patience for a while… until she felt classifying, organising, and dumping all the crap into a bin nearby. Expect that she didn't, because every once in a while he would depile something that looked absolutely insignificant and make a breakthrough. Despite her depressive state, she had sometimes stifled a laugh at the sight of him, illuminated by an idea and shuffling through an endless pile of documents to prove his point. A point blatantly ignored or dismissed by the colonel O'Neill most of the time, earning him a heated look, or a disappointed one.
In the five weeks she had been there, the young woman had to admit that she was quite impressed by the archeologist. His open disposition, his willingness to believe the best of everyone and the strength of his conviction made him a force to reckon with. Not to mention the twenty something languages that he spoke. The funniest part was that Jack O'Neill, the infamous leader of SG1, let him have his way most of the time. For the moment, it was just hearsay as Daniel was not the type to boast about his achievements; she had not set a foot off-world yet to see the situation people spoke about through her own eyes. It might happen in a year or so, that's the best she had gathered from her superiors. As a consultant/intern, she would have to go through more military training before they agreed to it.
Would O'Neill even consider it ? He was former black ops, and nowhere as friendly as Dr Jackson to her. Frances didn't take it personally; the man was weary of strangers. But she knew, from the archeologist, that O'Neill would not dismiss the idea altogether because of her gender; his trust in Captain Carter was absolute. Unbeknownst to her, O'Neill had actually been impressed by her involvement in THE incident. And he was happy as well that she had never tried to discuss any of HIS involvement as Hathor's mating material as well. Maybe if she could convince Daniel to plead her case, she might be able to go through the Stargate next year. Once.
In the meantime, though, she thrived on asking as many people as possible how their experience had been, what kind of people they had met, and tried to sort out any information that could help her locate Arda. And being the intern to the master culture geek of the base certainly helped. Nothing escaped Dr Jackson when it came to discovering languages and cultures. Every single rhune, every single piece of writing ended up on his desk. Needless to say, that the Doctor was quite pleased with her willingness to research and dig into every single detail of the stargate team's discovery. And, as a plus, Frances really thought like a linguist. She'd always loved it, acings her scores at school in language class, and her recent trips to Ancient Roma and Arda certainly helped her broaden her skills. Added to her French, English, Spanish and Italian knowledge, she could now claim a little more insight on Latin and… elvish. Albeit she had yet to encounter another language that related to it, its structure was so far quite similar to Gaelic and old Norsk. She guessed there could only be so many different ways of organising one's thoughts. It made sense that some languages on earth could be similar to Sindarin.
Fortunately for Frances, the Stargate program was quite new, which meant she did not miss too much of it; this would prevent her from spending a million hours in the archives. But now she needed to find a way to keep in touch when she was absent. Her work schedule was erratic at best since she was not ready to drop her studies in France. And there, in the mess, was just the man she was looking for. Mulder sat there, brooding over a piece of unidentified cake, his fifth cup of coffee steaming in his hands.
- "Hey," she greeted. "Can I join you?"
The older man's face lit up.
- "Hey! I could do with some company, yeah. I fear I have messed up in this last assignment."
Frances' eyebrows shot up as she settled close to him.
- "What does Scully say ?"
- "That I have messed up."
The young woman chuckled.
- "Some things never change."
Mulder's brown gaze locked with her with fondness.
- "No, I guess they don't."
The familiarity of Mulder's presence beside her gave Frances a welcome respite in her troubled thoughts. As he explained that he had, involuntarily, vexed the chieftain's family by refusing their daughter's offering, Frances laughed. It was not that the story was hilarious, per se. But Mulder's puppy look, and his way of retelling the events made her heart melt. How she had missed him and their completely weird missions all over Europe ! It was suh a shame that their Interpol time had come to an end. But had they not returned to the States, they would not have investigated the SGC, and Frances would not now have the opportunity to look for Legolas.
A hand brushed her forearm, and she turned, surprised, to the man that had been an older brother to her.
- "I have not seen you much since your arrival, but you seem preoccupied."
Frances' breath hitched. Damn her for being so relaxed! Mulder was such a good friend that she never guarded herself around him. After all, he was the one who had dragged her into this whole mess in the first place. If not for him and their timely encounter in her makeshift childhood hut, she'd still be an average student of a popular school living a veeeery boring life. But he had trusted her, and become a shoulder she could rely upon.
- "Do I ?"
- "Yes. You laugh less, and you wear this little line between your eyebrows much more often. I know the people here don't know you, but I do,"
Frances shrugged. Of her preoccupations, which one could she pick to lead him away frm her heartache ?
- "Honestly. I think this discovery, the Stargate, this had put me a little bit on edge. It doesn't really help me sleep at night, to know that our world could be overthrown by some arrogant snakeheads anytime."
This time, Mulder chuckled. Dear old Frances, her wit always made him laugh, even when she had joined as an intern in Interpol. That is, once she had started mastering English well enough to start cracking jokes. But if his observation was correct, something had changed in her eyes. It could just be that she had grown, and known some hardships since the last time he saw her. Yet, he could not fathom why such sadness had taken root into her mind. Just as his mind wheeled around those thoughts, Frances called his attention by putting a hand on his forearm.
- "There's something I need to tell you, but not here. Would you care for dinner this evening ?"
The former FBI agent nodded. Anything for his former intern !
Later that night, Frances reflected on what she'd become. A liar, a giant fat liar. And it displeased her much to be able to do so, she that held the truth in such high esteem. It was the reason why people believed her though; she had always been so blunt, so direct in her answers than no one suspected her to be lying. Yet, she was lying to Dr Jackson, lying to her parents and friends, lying to the nurse at school and now, she had lied to one of her closest friends. She had told Mulder she was having some dreams.
- "Dreams?" he had asked, puzzled.
- "Yeah. THOSE dreams, you know?"
- "Oooh, those dreams"
He knew about them, the prophetic dreams and visions that she seldom had, but always turned out to be true. And she asked for his help finding the eldar, the people in her dreams, that were struggling to survive the downfall of this world.
- "Against what are they struggling?"
- "A big bad that appears to have lost corporeal form and exists as a big red eye."
The appellation had called a smirk to Mulder's lips, and a wide smile to Frances'. How could he know that she remembered Legolas' appalled face, and Gimli's loud snort when she had dubbed Morgoth 'Big Bad 1' and Sauron 'Big Bad 2'? The mirth of this private joke, though, was short-lived. But regarding Sauron's involvement in Arda, at least, she wasn't lying. Except that Sauron was dead, but still. If Mulder ever landed on Arda in his travels, he would know what to ask. She described the eldar the best she could, her nails digging in the palm of her right hand, and the world of men scarcely as if she had only had a glimpse through her so-called dream. Mulder promised to make enquiries, discreetly, of course. And she trusted him to do so. The man never backed down from a challenge, especially if the answer was hidden somewhere in a dark, damp place. Mulder was like a Fox Terrier; when his jaws had grabbed something, he never let go. How fitting was his first name !
She wondered how he handled the secret around the Stargate program, now that he was in. He'd probably have to face his counterparts on the net out there, looking for a truth that he could no longer disclose. But such was the price to pay to look for his abducted sister, and try to repair the childhood trauma of her disappearance. Frances sighed. She had not even asked about him, about how both of them fared in this strange new world. She really had become a cynical hag ! No wonder he had found her changed!
But at least, when she left at the end of the summer, she knew that her back was covered. If any of the SG teams set foot on Arda, she'd know right away. Mulder was reliable, and as devoted as it comes. It didn't made up for the disappointment to have found nothing during her two months in Cheyenne Mountain. But at least, she wasn't off the loop completely!
I know it's not the reunion you're all waiting for, but don't shun me, review ! :)