Disclaimer: See Chapter 2.

Hawkeye: I believe my life is about to pass before my eyes.
Sherman Potter: Let me know when it does. I love a parade.
Hawkeye: Even short ones?
- MASH

Chapter 52 – This was a great war till you showed up

"What troubles you?"

Eonwe looked up. After the battle with Sauron he had sunk to his haunches on the dusty ground, clutching the sword limply in his hand. He was utterly spent, something which should not have been the case with the mightiest in arms in all of Arda. He, the swiftest among the stars, brought down by a bout of fisticuffs with one who had never been his equal as a warrior? What was wrong with him? Why had he needed to use the method of fighting learned by his future self in another time? He should have been able to overcome Sauron even without wearing armour and carrying his mighty sword.

He felt the closest to weeping that he had ever been since Arien had chosen another.

Celeborn knelt down beside him. Even amongst the jubilation of beating Sauron and his orcs off and the strangeness of the newcomers he had seen the desolate figure with drooping shoulders on the periphery of the battlefield. He felt an immense pity for the Herald.

The duality of his current situation drains him. Galadriel's voice had whispered softly into his mind as he stood watching the hunched figure of the Herald. Go to him Celeborn, he needs counsel of some kind.

Counsel? Celeborn was astounded. Of what counsel can I be to someone like him? He is Maia my love, so far above me in strength, knowledge, wisdom and power. What counsel can I offer that would help one such as he?

Beloved, he is rent in two and the longer he remains in the persona of his future self, he loses, while his future self gains. He must go back to the Host or he will lose himself entirely. This should never have been asked of him. He has no one to hold him in the night or give loving counsel when he needs it and comfort. She will return to her own time and take his child with her. He will suffer long yeni of parting and has no guarantee that he will ever see her or his child again. Galadriel's voice was filled with compassion. Even if you do not do it for his sake, then do it for ours. We need him my love. We need the Host of the Valar to rid us of Morgoth and he is their greatest strength.

Eonwe stared down at the earth in despair, the sword dropped from his hand and hit the ground with a dull thump. "I am not myself." He whispered in a broken voice that reached into Celeborn's heart and wrung it with pity. "I feel...depleted and with each passing hour I become weaker. I do not know what is wrong with me."

"Do you not then?" Asked Celeborn softly. "Then perhaps Lord of the Maia, you do not see what I and others are seeing."

Eonwe looked back up at him in query. "I do not...understand your meaning."

Celeborn's smile was full of the compassion that had been encouraged in him by his spouse. "The longer you remain here with us, the longer you tarry in this persona, the weaker you become. You are becoming mortal, with all the inherent weaknesses of the secondborn Eonwe and your future self becomes stronger and more decisive, more Maia."

Eonwe gave a hollow laugh. "Perhaps that would be best for all. For he will be the sum of us both with all of the knowledge of future times and technology to ease the battles to come."

"You are missing the point my Lord." Celeborn sounded impatient. "Asmuch as your future self has learned from this...technology, and as wondrous as it is, he comes to us incomplete. His memories of what he was...what you were and are...were taken away before he arrived into the future time of Ennorath. There is much he will have remembered it is true, but much more that will take time to recover. This is time we do not have. Come now, he would be the first to remind you of this. The Valar took a chance by allowing you to take his place even temporarily for the purpose of finding the weapons and now it is time to return to who you truly are. Take what Garee has taught you of his time and use it well and wisely. Do not leave him in the middle of the great war in the position of only having what he has learned as mortal man and struggling to recall that which is forgotten."

He stood up and held out his hand. Eonwe gazed up at him. Dusk was beginning to fall, but the last golden rays of Arien lit the silver Elf-lord up from behind and gave him a crown of light. He blinked as the face of his lord Manwe Sulimo momentarily imprinted itself over the Elf's stern but handsome features. The tears that trembled on his long dark lashes tumbled down his dirty cheeks, leaving a clean path and he bowed his head in supplication.

"My Lord Manwe...father." He whispered. "Help me, I am lost."

A gentle hand briefly touched the dusty golden brown hair. "Then take my hand my child and I will lead you."

Eonwe reached up blindly and grasped the hand offered to him. He was pulled to his feet and drawn into strong arms. "I will always be there to help you my son." Eonwe could feel the strength flowing back into him through the embrace and the soft words of love and encouragement. He leaned against the chest and wept freely. "Lead them all back to the Host Eonwe. Take up your rightful place and do what you know you must do. If Eru wills it, you will see her and the child again. You must trust in him, as you have always done."

Eonwe nodded and after a few moments drew away from the embrace, letting his arms fall by his side even as he gathered his strength and conviction back up. As he blinked away the tears and dried them with his sleeve he realised that Manwe had gone and he was looking into the kind but astonished eyes of Celeborn once again. "Thank you." He said quietly. "It cannot have been easy to surrender yourself to the Elder King."

Celeborn shook his head in wonder. "I have never experienced anything quite like that before. I was always taught that Lord Manwe never left Taniquetil and would not till the End of Days." His voice was hushed with awe.

The Herald managed a wry smile. "He does not and did not this time. He used his power of farsight combined with that of the blessed Lady Varda to project himself into you as the vessel."

"Then the honour is mine." Celeborn bowed. He tore the cleanest piece of his gore spattered cloak that he could find and handed it to the Herald with a broad smile. "You might want to clean your face. We cannot have you riding back to the Host looking like a grubby urchin can we?"

Eonwe laughed through his tears and took the cloth which he moistened with his tongue before scrubbing at his cheeks. "Better?"

"Ohmuch better." Celeborn chuckled, but he leaned over and pointed at a spot under Eonwe's eye. "You have missed a bit, just there." He glanced briefly over to where one of the SAS soldiers was marching determinedly over to them followed by the High King, The Chief and Cirdan. "You might want to get rid of that before this fellow starts saluting you and asking if you are the Major Matthews he's been sent to find."

"Indeed." Murmured the Herald and then burst into laughter.

Celeborn joined in the laughter. "Whatever would he think of us?" He winked at Eonwe who laughed even harder.

Sergeant van Breda reached where Eonwe and Celeborn were standing. He came to attention and saluted smartly. Everyone watched in fascination as the Herald also came to attention and returned the compliment. "Major Matthews sir?"

"Yes, 569457 Matthews, Major, Her Britannic Majesty's Armed Forces." Eonwe's reply was brief and to the point.

The Sergeant acknowledged the name, rank and number with a grin. "Thank you for that sir, I have orders from the GOC of 4 Div to bring you all home Sir." The sergeant's face and tone were impassive.

"General Sheldon?" Eonwe asked with a small smile. "Sergeant...?"

"Van Breda sir, Sergeant van Breda, 22 SAS Regiment and yes, General Sheldon sent us to fetch you all back. He said to tell you sir, that if we came back without all of you to not bother coming back. Not sure he meant that really though."

Eonwe and Chief Knowles exchanged a wry glance with each other. "Oh I amabsolutely sure he did mean it Sergeant, knowing General Sheldon." Eonwe replied ruefully. " However we do have a minor problem in that we are not all in the same place."

"Yes sir, Chief and the High King here did explain. So since we can't contact them to bring them here, might I suggest that we go to them? And...is Inspector Davies actually with Sergeant Freeman sir?"

Eonwe's dark blue eyes crinkled with laughter. "Quite so sergeant. We will go to them." He swept a glance around at Gil-galad and his merry men. "All of us, and yes, Alun Davies is currently with Sergeant Freeman, but we have a great dealt to discuss and do before anyone goes back through the portal."

"My orders are to place myself and my men at your disposal Major." The SAS sergeant felt a strange desire to bow sweep over him which he only managed to stop at the last minute. He gazed into the magnetic dark blue eyes of the Major and realised that this was a man who he would willingly follow into battle. Then he mentally slapped himself for having such a weird thought.

"Thank you Sergeant, do you by any chance have a qualified medic with you?"

The Sergeant grinned. "I do indeed sir, with a full supply pack. I also have a scientist with me. They're both up on the ridge up there." He jerked a thumb over to where two figures stood waiting on the slope.

"Get them down here then would you Sergeant?" Eonwe's tone was pleasant and firm, the tone of someone long used to giving orders and having them obeyed without question. "I suspect that your medic will be able to help considerably with the wounded." He nodded at the Sergeant, started to walk way and then came to a dead halt as he realised what the soldier had said. "And... a scientist did you say?"

"Yes Sir. Clever bloke, like all those boffins are. He made the portal stable and made it possible for us to come through. Name of Dr Rob Norman."

Eonwe looked thoughtful. "Did he indeed? Bring them both down Sergeant." He dismissed the Sergeant with another nod then turned to Gil-galad. "Are there many dead or wounded Ereinion?"

"Not as many as there would have been had those men not interfered. We were a little outnumbered. Two dead and ten wounded, one of the dwarves, young Bausi, seriously." Gil-galad said sadly as they walked towards where Glorfindel, Gildor and Erestor were organising the dead and wounded helped by some of the dwarves.

Eonwe laid a hand on Gil-galad's arm. "I am truly sorry to have brought you to this Ereinion." He said softly. "My orders from the Valar were to minimise your part in this battle. They viewed it as a matter between them and Morgoth." Gil-galad started back from him with an offended and outraged expression, but the Herald stopped him before he could launch into the passionate 'it's our land, not yours' argument. "I know now that this was not the right decision to make and you will all be needed before the end, however you are also tired from long years of fighting and protecting your people from this enemy. Once this is over and they are all returned to their own time, I will ask you to take your people and go back to Balar. Help to co-ordinate the many refugees who will flee to the north, recharge your warriors and find others from those around who wish to fight, but be ready, for I shall call upon you and I will need you to be fresh and able."

Gil-galad stared deeply into the Herald's eyes but saw nothing other than honesty and truth in them. He nodded wearily. "If that is what you wish my Lord. I confess that we are weary from the constant skirmishes and we do need to train others to take the place of those lost. Our armourers also need to repair armour and weapons and we desperately need to re-supply."

"Then do it and also prepare a place of safety for those who will need it. The Lady Artanis labours hard on this behalf, but even she, tireless and strong though she is, cannot do it alone." Eonwe said softly. "For that place of safety will be sorely needed at the end. This battle and the defeat of the enemy will not be without consequences. Our presence here has started changes in the very core of Ennorath that cannot be halted."

ooOoo

The Halls of Manwe, Oiolosse, Aman

Manwe sank back into one of the low couches with his eyes closed and shuddered slightly. He opened them again and found his wife gazing at him, her face a mask of concern.

"Well..." He finally managed to say. "I do not want to have to do that too often. Lord Celeborn has a most dynamic personality. He resisted me quite considerably. Not that I blame him. It cannot be a pleasant experience being possessed from afar."

"Hah!" Ulmo snorted from the other side of the room where he had slumped down on another couch, long legs splayed out in front of him. "Rumour has it that his lady wife frequently possesses him from afar."

Both Manwe and Varda looked shocked. "Ulmo!" Varda admonished the Lord of the Waters. "What a thing to say!"

Ulmo grinned up at the Maia handmaiden Ilmare, sister of Eonwe, as she held out a tray with goblets of the light, sparkling peach wine from the Vineyards belonging to King Olwe. Her shoulders were shaking with the effort of trying not to giggle out loud.

Ulmo was unabashed. "You know fine well what my meaning was. Your shock is nothing more than a reflection of your own dubious nasty little thoughts. I meant her farspeaking habit of course. Not at all sure what you two were referring to."

"Oh of course not." Manwe managed stop himself from rolling his eyes in a most un-Valar like manner. "We all know you are as pure as the un-driven snow."

Varda snorted with laughter but made no comment. She smiled at her handmaiden in dismissal. "Thank you Ilmare." Ilmare laughed softly and went back to her position behind her lady.

Ulmo laughed and winked at the Maia woman who folded her hands demurely in front of her and tried to avoid Ulmo's eye in vain. "Yes thank you Ilmare and how about tonight, usual place behind the kitchens?"

Ilmare did roll her eyes at that. "You never give up my Lord do you?"

But she was smiling, as were Manwe and Varda. This was a usual conversation between Ilmare and Ulmo and had been going on for as long as anyone could remember. It usually infuriated Eonwe who would grit his teeth whenever they went into their 'act' as Olorin termed it, because he felt it belittled his sister, no matter how many times she gently told him that she didn't mind and that it was just Lord Ulmo's joking way.

"Ofcourse not." Boomed Ulmo. "My mother always said that when you had something good you should never lose it or give up on it!"

Aule snorted and swatted his fellow Valar over the back of his head with a rolled up scroll. "You never had a mother you ancient fraud, none of us did. I would like to meet any woman who was responsible for giving birth to you, you lecherous old buzzard you. Once of these days Eonwe is going to call you out over your manhandling of Ilmare, for which I would not blame him, and then what would you do?"

"The oceans are very deep." Ulmo said cryptically. He didn't enlighten his fellow Valar as to whether that meant he was considering hiding from a enraged Eonwe in the deepest part or whether he was planning to drown the Herald if he tried to take issue with the Lord of the Waters over his sister's honour. "Anyway, she likes it. She always laughs." He protested.

Namo shook his head despairingly. "And what would you do if she took you up on it one romantic, starry night?"

Ulmo considered the notion. "I am not sure really, because then Eonwe would truly be baying for my blood. I think I might just run away to sea. Or I would come to the Halls and lose myself in the many rooms in your mansion. Eonwe has an enormous sword, the biggest in Aman."

The Valar tried to ignore the uncontrollable, badly concealed sniggers from the Maia who were in attendance in Oiolosse.

Namo glanced over at his wife. "Remind me to change the locks when we get back will you?" She quietly snickered to herself.

Manwe sighed deeply. "I do hope that didn't mean what it sounded like Ulmo."

"What?" Ulmo produced an air of innocent affront. "What did I say? I just said he had a big sword. And a very strong and terrifying sword arm to go with it. Anyway, onto more important matters. What are we going to do about that wretched girl of his and his child? She is going swanning off into the future and we will have Eonwe mooning around for yeni after her. We will have to keep him occupied you know. Does Eru intend for them to be together eventually or what?"

They all looked at Namo who immediately took an defensive stance. "Why are you all looking at me? Manwe knows as much about the future as I do. Why are you always picking on me?"

Orome who had added nothing to the conversation so far, snorted in derision. "Because it is your job? D'uh... Lord of Death and Destiny, Doomsman of the Valar anyone?"

"Yes, well... " Namo's bottom lip jutted out stubbornly. "That may well be, only I am not supposed to just blurt it all out you know. Doom and destiny has to be spoken at the right time, with the right surrounding ambiance. Loose lips sink ships and all that."

Ulmo jumped up to his feet and strode over to where Namo was sitting. He drew himself up to his considerable height and loomed over the Lord of Mandos. "What in the name of all that is holy is that supposed to mean? Loose lips sink ships? Horse hockey!"

"How should I know?" Namo said crossly. "It just sort of jumped into my mind, and it sounded good."

Ulmo grinned ferally at him. He prodded Namo on the chest. "I happen to respect and like young Eonwe. Fine fellow, does our bidding without complaint, despite some of the cock-a-mamie crap we ask him to do." He prodded Namo again. "I do not want us to keep him hanging around for the next few ages not knowing whether he will ever see the woman he loves or meet his daughter. Hasn't he gone through enough with that chit Arien? So I suggest that someone speaks to Eru and damn well finds out."

This time all the Valar looked at Manwe, who sank deeper into the blue cushions. "I can ask, but it is still Namo's job to pronounce any doom upon them and they should both really be here for it to be effective."

"Monkey muffins!" Exploded Ulmo. "That's nothing but a lot of cow cookies in my view. In the name of Carrie's Corset, I am not asking for a doom-saying. I am just asking for some honesty for the lad. We owe him that at least. Give him something to keep on carrying on for Eru's sake. He is just about to fight, is fighting, a damn horrific war on our behalf. We owe him." He repeated.

"I agree." Irmo's quiet voice cut through the atmosphere. He smiled at Manwe. "We cannot expect Eonwe to keep giving without receiving in return. The young woman must return to her own time, that we all know, for her sake and the child's. As long as she is there in Arda Marred she is both in danger and a danger to the Host's mission there. If she were to be captured along with their child, what a bargaining chip Morgoth would have. She must go back, he must remain and because of that we must give him some small hope to cling to. His concentration on his mission will not be complete if he is thinking and worrying about her and his child." Murmurs of agreement rippled around the room.

Manwe sighed again and rose to his feet. "Yes, you are right of course. I should take counsel with Eru." He smiled wanly around at the rest of the Valar. "I will do my best, but I cannot promise anything."

He unclothed himself of flesh and departed for his favourite place of communion with Iluvator.

Ulmo grunted in satisfaction and threw himself back down on his couch. "Well... good. So. Now that you have managed to drag me here kicking and screaming far from my own halls under the oceans, what's for dinner?"

ooOoo