"Neither fire nor wind, birth nor death can erase our good deeds" - Gautama Buddha

"You can have my gun when you pry it from my paranoid,
mentally disturbed, physically-abusive, cold, dead hand." - Bumper Sticker

Somewhere in Beleriand, in the middle of nowhere

Celebrimbor halted his and the Chief's small party and dismounted. He surveyed the area and then bent down to examine the earth. Olorin wondered whether or not to comment on his actions because as an Istari and a Maia he knew exactly what the young Smith was doing. Any fool could see that a large party had been encamped there for a number of hours, yet not large enough a number to account for Gil-galad's small army. After a few minutes consideration and realising that Celebrimbor wasn't about to hand out any explanations to the ignorant mortals in his party any time soon, he eventually decided to ask an innocent question.

"What are you looking for?" Was what finally emerged.

Celebrimbor flashed a brief beautiful smile at Olorin and stood up. He turned slowly on the spot, his keen grey eyes raking the area one last time. "Not looking for, Chief, looking at."

Olorin expelled a sigh. How typical of an Elf to be so evasive. On the other hand if an Elf, for once, had given a straightforward answer to a straightforward question without bringing the stars or the trees into it, Olorin would probably have fallen off the horse in shock, so at least he was being consistent.

"Oookay." He said dredging up the Chief's modern vernacular. "So what exactly are you looking at?" He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

The Smith mounted back up on his horse and cocked an eyebrow at Olorin. "This was used as a temporary encampment not twenty-four hours ago. A fairly large mounted party, most probably Elven, heavily armed for fighting. They hid their tracks well from anyone other than another Elf; however they also left in a hurry. Possibly one of the rear skirmishing parties sent out by the Host of the Valar doing a sweep up of enemy stragglers left over from the main army's sweep through."

"You got all of that from sniffing the ground?" Olorin tried not to smile and succeeded in muting it to a twitch of his lips.

Celebrimbor didn't miss the twitch of the lips and he laughed. "I am sure that it looked very much like that to you, but I was merely examining the signs closely. The trees, bushes and vegetation around us can tell us a great deal."

OIorin raised one eyebrow. "I'll take your word for that. Should we be worried about it? I mean how do you know it wasn't Orcs?"

"No." Celebrimbor shook his head. "I doubt there is anything of great import in it and this was no Orc camp. If it had been Orc then there would be a lot more to see."

Olorin nodded sagely at this. "Ah yes, not the tidiest of folk I imagine."

All of the elves in the party laughed at this. "Indeed not." One of them murmured with a smile.

"And now?" Asked Olorin.

Celebrimbor spurred his horse. "And now we ride to the High King and Garee with this 'ammo' of yours as you term it, then perhaps you will let me at least handle this strange weapon once." He shot an engaging and hopeful grin Olorin's way.

Privately Olorin was a little doubtful as to whether they should have given such a talented young ellon from such a seemingly tainted family access to such a weapon, but he couldn't help but be impressed with his expertise when it came to making the ammunition. He had a sudden vision of Celebrimbor working feverishly in some forge, casting weapon parts and ammunition and causing generalised mayhem with them. Whole armies of elves armed with those ugly death-dealing things marched in front of his inner vision and he shuddered slightly.

Then as that inner visual faded, it was immediately replaced with another. He saw Celebrimbor again, but this time all the life was gone from those beautiful, incandescent grey eyes and his features were bloody and lifeless, mouth set in the rictus of horrifying and painful death and his ruined naked body tied to poles in the fashion of a banner. The shock of it nearly sent Olorin reeling from his horse. There was no way of knowing who was responsible for that mental vision, but it came with soft words from the unknown messenger which said "Pride goeth before a fall."

A strong hand shot out and steadied him. "Be careful." One of the older elves who acted as healer in their party looked closely at him in concern. "Are you well?"

Olorin swallowed back the hot tears that had sprung to his eyes at the sight of Celebrimbor so undone. "Yes." He said hoarsely. "It was nothing, I just turned my head too fast."

"It is not long since you are recovered from a bad injury." The Elf scolded. "This journey was perhaps too much too soon. Perhaps I should ask Lord Celebrimbor to stop for a while."

He looked as though he was about to attract the Smith's attention, but Olorin grasped his sleeve and shook his head.

"No. Please don't make a fuss. I'm fine really I am. I don't want to be the cause of any delay to us getting this ammunition to Major Matthews. A lot depends on it."

The Elf stared intently at him and then nodded. "Very well, but if you feel light-headed again you must tell me. If you become sick again you will delay us a lot longer than just a few hours spent resting on the ground rather than on horseback."

Olorin managed a weak smile. "Of course, I promise I'll be a good boy."

The Elf gave a slightly derisive snort of laughter, but he kept a weather eye on Olorin as they rode in silence and Olorin knew it. Still the silence gave him some much-needed time to recover his equilibrium, yet in the back of his mind the vision persisted to the point that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had been accorded a premonition of Celebrimbor's eventual fate. It distressed him beyond belief to even contemplate it.

It will give you no comfort to know this my Olorin. Varda's sympathetic voice whispered in his ear. But Celebrimbor will not be allowed to languish in the Halls of Waiting at Namo's will. He will not carry the burden of oaths taken when he was not old enough to make such decisions for himself. And his life on Arda Marred will not prove in vain. Even as he will unwittingly be instrumental in the means of ruin to Middle Earth, he will also be responsible for providing the means of protection for many of the Eldar and in turn many of the Secondborn in the dark days.

Olorin tried to feel comforted, but the words of comfort tasted like ash on his tongue.

ooOoo

Meanwhile...back at the General Officer Commanding 4 Division's office, Aldershot, Hampshire, United Kingdom...

The General drew bushy grey eyebrows together and glowered at the motley assortment of officers, civilians and other odd bods assembled in his large office. His keen eyes finally rested on one who was doing his level best to try to avoid being seen, by anyone it had to be said, but especially the scary General and that vicious hell-beast of a dog of his. Young Dr Norman, head of the research team at the Forest of Dean pushed his glasses up his nose, slunk behind a particularly large, shambling bear of a Captain from the Military Liaison Team and tried to blend in with the furniture.

The aforesaid vicious hell-beast was busy trotting around and sniffing ankles, obviously selecting his next victim from the delightful smorgasbord arrayed before him. Inspector Alun Davis chuckled to himself at the sight of some of England's finest officers giving way to their fear in the face of such a heinous enemy and sat down in one of the easy chairs. He whistled softly to the hell-beast who came prancing over, fluffy tail wagging furiously and ridiculously large pink tongue lolling out of its mouth. He scratched it behind its ears eliciting an almost beatific silence from the creature. The military present in the room heaved a collective sigh of relief as they were rescued from a fate worse than death at the hands of the General's beloved Cavalier King Charles spaniel, Mugger.

"So. Do any of you have any good news to tell me?" The General sounded more than a little irritated. "I am disappointed gentlemen. Here we have the finest brains in Britain working on this problem. It has been just over two weeks and we are still missing four people and fourteen weapons. Thousands of pounds of taxpayer's money are being spent on maintaining a watch in the Forest of Dean and what do we have to show for it? Hmmm? What do you have to say for yourselves? Questions will be asked by the public and what will we tell them? Hmmm?" He raised his eyebrows until they looked for all the world like two wiggly grey caterpillars stuck to his forehead just below his hairline. He made the word 'public' sound like the most hideous blasphemy in the entire universe.

One of the junior officers fixated on the grey caterpillars. He appeared to be unduly fascinated by the seemingly independent life the eyebrows had on the General's craggy face. Unfortunately, staring open-mouthed at his eyebrows wasn't the way to survive a meeting with said General. All it did was make him aware that he was being stared at. The caterpillars lowered ominously and drew together in a terrifying scowl.

"WELL?" The General thundered at the poor hapless officer who went pale, then fire engine red and let out a high-pitched bray of laughter which he tried to strangle in vain as it ricocheted around the room of horrified people. The braying laughter and subsequent strangled sobbing sound made everyone in the room turn around, look at the poor young man and thank the gods that it wasn't them.

The Chief of Staff rolled his eyes and muttered "Oh dear god." under his breath. He gestured to the Chief Clerk. "Get that idiot out of here before the Old Man dismembers him in public without an anaesthetic." He said sotto voce. "We'll never get the blood out of the carpets."

The Chief Clerk sniggered softly. "Yes sir."

Moment later he was pushing the almost hysterical young officer out of the door at the back of the office and past the General's PA who grinned and shook her head. "And another one bites the dust?" She asked.

The Chief Clerk sniggered again. "There'll be more casualties before the morning is out Pat. I hope you got your cleaning clothes on, there'll be blood and guts from arsehole to breakfast time before the Old Man is finished."

"Aw he's okay. He's quite a poppet if you just get on the right side of him. His bark's worse than his bite."

The Chief Clerk looked doubtful. "Okay, if you say so. If I'm not out by supper time send in the hounds! Once more unto the breach dear friends..." He made a dramatic Sarah Bernhard gesture, back of hand to forehead, and went back into the meeting, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Pat laughed softly to herself and started sorting out the General's diary.

ooOoo

Long after the visitors had gone, most with great relief it had to be said, the General was left alone in his office with the Chief of Staff and Alun Davies. Mugger had long since become bored with the proceedings and now, with a dearth of people to torment, had retired to his basket behind the General's desk with his favourite squeaky rubber chew toy and a couple of treats.

The General didn't speak for a fairly long time after the meeting had ended; instead he stood at the windows of the balcony that looked out over the front of the main 4 Division HQ building staring out over Aldershot . He could see people coming and going, getting off buses, soldiers going about their duties. He could even see the building works for the new Health Centre. Life was going about its business as usual, but the General was finding it hard to get his mind off four people whose lives were most certainly not going about their usual business. Nobody was even sure they were still alive.

He may have developed this crusty exterior, but as his PA had remarked, inside he was quite a soft-natured man and his heart ached to think of four people with their lives in front of them being irretrievably lost.

Oh yes, that clever young chap Dr Norman had earnestly looked up into the General's grim face and told him that the opening to the rift was stable, but what did that mean for the four souls lost inside it? Had they found shelter in an age where everything would be so primitive to them and, more urgently, what use would those creatures put the modern weapons to? On a best case scenario they would become frustrated because the weapons would be too sophisticated for them to figure out and bash their victims on the head with it, but on a worst case scenario, they may well figure out how to use them or have someone who did have the savvy to do it. Modern weapons in a primitive environment just didn't bear thinking about. Hopefully the ammunition would run out long before they caused wholesale mayhem.

The General was fully aware that this was just many of the matters of great importance that he had to deal with on a daily basis as the Commander of a whole division that covered the South East and South West of England, but given the importance and high level security classification that had been placed on it by the Security Agency who regularly briefed the Prime Minister on developments, he was aware that the briefings he gave them went right up to the top. UK Eyes Only.

So far, what they had were a great number of species of animals who had run through the rift or portal or whatever it was, obviously they were running from something. Being the usual paranoid modern race of man and ever suspicious, there was the overriding fear that those animals would carry diseases through to a different age and therefore all of them, hopefully, had been quarantined. However what the government veterinarians had discovered was that far from being a threat, their systems and genetic strains were purer than most modern versions of the various species and in fact they were in more danger of being harmed than actually being harmful.

All of them were being kept in a nearby animal sanctuary under strict quarantine regulations and were being vaccinated. They couldn't go back through the rift, so eventually after a period of observation; they would be released into the general animal population. In fact the chief veterinarian had stated that such pure strains of the various species could only help to strengthen the existing population and in a couple of cases, would actually restart a species that was almost extinct. These latter creatures would be taken to one of the Zoo's and put on a breeding and strengthening programme.

The General smiled to himself at that, the one bright part of a wholly dreadful business, at least something good had come from the terrible situation. Now all they needed was to get their people back bright, whole and healthy.

He turned away from the window and sat down at his desk. Neither the Chief of Staff or Alun Davies made any comment, but the Chief of Staff got up and poured the General a hot cup of tea from the tray his PA had brought just a few minutes earlier. He put it on the large desk, pushed it towards the General and sat back down. The General heaved a sigh and also sat, pausing a moment to drag his fingers through his thick springy grey hair.

He smiled his thanks at his Chief of Staff. "Much appreciated Bob. I reckon I will be completely bald or gaga by the time this business is concluded."

"I somehow doubt you will be either of those." The COS chuckled.

"I'm not so sure. How are the Knowles family and the family of that young policeman holding up though? I mean what can we tell them for god's sake? That we're sorry we lost your loved ones, but on the upside we have managed to save a couple of extinct species of rodent?" The General sounded close to despair. "Nothing that I was told in this meeting would give any family any kind of reassurance. I suppose in a way it's easier to think about when it comes to young Matthews and Sergeant Freeman, neither appear to have any family at all, but some of their colleagues from the unit are asking for news, and what do we tell them?"

The Chief of Staff sipped his tea thoughtfully. "General, all we can tell any of them is to do what they are doing already and that is to wait. We're all playing the waiting game with this and of course it's much worse for the families, but I just have this feeling that they are alive. I can't tell you why I believe that, I just do."

"That's very nice Bob and I hope you're right, I just wish you could pass your positive feeling my way." The General looked at Alun Davies who had been silent and sympathetic up till that point. "What about young PC Moore 's family? How are they holding up?"

"Well they're distressed and upset as you obviously realise. Our police counselling team are taking care of them and strangely enough, although the parents are slowly giving up hope as the days wear on, the grandmother insists the same as Bob here. She says that she knows her grandson and she can 'feel' him. She says they are all alive still. To be honest her conviction on this is the only thing keeping the parents from mourning their son as though he was dead. The father says his mother always seemed to see and feel more than other people." Davies shrugged. "I don't know, maybe she's right, a few weeks ago I might have pooh-poohed the whole idea, but given what's happened my thoughts on such things are up for grabs really."

The General picked up his cup and drained it in one go. "Ah well, back to the damn grind I suppose." He nodded at Bob and Alun Davies, picked up the phone and spoke to his PA. "Come in Pat would you? I have some stuff I need to dictate."

The Chief of Staff and Alun Davies took that as an official dismissal and took their leave of the harassed General.

Alun Davies started up the engine of his car and let it idle for a while before putting it into gear and starting on the long journey back. Normally the General's PA arranged for him to have a room overnight in the Government House Officers Mess, but this evening he had decided to go home and spend some time with his family. For some reason this business had made him more aware of the time he spent away from them, besides which he had this urgent need to just go home and see them.

All the way down the M4, the need to be home nagged at him. A fairly bad accident on the motorway with casualties by the look of it happened just past one of the Motorway Services and brought traffic to a slow crawl. He sat impatiently tapping the steering wheel. Part of him knew that as a police officer he should stop and see if there was anything he could do to help, but the message 'come home' was now sounding in his brain like a clarion call and it overruled everything else, even his sense of duty.

He called his wife and asked if everything was okay, with her, with the kids. For her part, she seemed confused as to the urgency in his tone and assured him all was well. Yet still, once past the accident area he put his foot down and reached a speed he wouldn't normally have dreamt of travelling at.

And the message still sounded in his brain.

A few hours later……..

Alun pulled into his driveway and sat behind the wheel for a few moments staring at the welcoming golden lights streaming out of the windows and allowed his thudding heart and pounding blood pressure to return to somewhere approaching normal. They were all fine, all safe. So why had he felt so concerned? Why the terrible and terrifying need to get back home. He gave a mental shrug. This case was affecting him more than all the others he had on his plate. It was obviously getting to him.

His wife hadn't shut the curtains yet and he watched his family's normal evening rituals through the windows. Shortly he would get out of his car, put his key in the front door and feel the warmth of his home and family surrounding him. His wife would smile as he kissed her and the kids would surround him with their chatter and daily nonsense, as all children do. They would sit down for supper and then watch some telly before the nightly battle to get the kids into bed. That was how it always happened and he thanked god for the fact that he was so lucky.

Then… just as he was reaching for the car door handle a strange lassitude swept over him and a dark veil covered his sight for mere seconds. He passed a hand across his eyes and tiredly rubbed at his temple. I'm just tired. He thought. A good night's sleep is all I need. He tried to grasp the handle again to open the car door, but to his bewilderment his hand passed right through it. He tried again, but it was like grasping at smoke.

"Oh bloody hell …." Was the last thing he remembered saying before everything went dark.

ooOoo