Chapter 19: For Love of the Author

The next morning, Mrs. Silva insisted on treating the Fellowship to a full breakfast of fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns, which everyone (especially the hobbits) thoroughly appreciated. The respite, however brief, from the threats and worries of the Quest seemed to lift the characters' spirits, at least for the time being.

As promised, Hawk gave an account of the Quest, interspersed with details from the characters, to her mother over breakfast. When Hawk had been recruited for KI, both her parents had been supportive, if baffled, by their daughter's unconventional career choice. She knew they hadn't fully understood what it was she did, but she appreciated their support all the same.

Mrs. Silva listened and nodded and refilled the hobbits' plates several times as Hawk told the tale of their adventures and misadventures up-to-date. When she got to the part about Porter succumbing to the Sue poison, her voice stopped up in her throat painfully, but she pressed on, quickly covering their escape to New Zealand, their trip to America, and their plan to find the Suethor of the Pen.

"It sounds like quite the adventure, Melissa," Mrs. Silva said as she began to gather up the dishes. "And I'm so sorry to hear about your friend Porter." She loaded an armful of dishes into the dishwasher, then turned to face Hawk again. "I know you always take on the responsibility. Even when you were a child, you always insisted on doing things yourself, and your father and I were always very proud of you for it. But just remember, dear, that there's no shame in accepting help. I don't know much about these Sues and characters and worlds, but it looks to me like you have a good group of friends here with you. Don't place all the weight on yourself."

Hawk swallowed. "I won't, Mother."

Since they had no idea how their visit with the Suethor would go, they packed all their belongings back into the rental car and said their farewells to Mrs. Silva and thanked her for the comforts of the night and the delicious breakfast. Hawk paused briefly on the doorstep, her hand on the frame, giving one last look at her childhood home, then she made her way to the car.

It was only a ten-minute drive across town to the address written on the Suethor's photos. Hawk had always been good at navigation and remembered the route to that side of town from when she'd been young. All too soon, they pulled up in front of the house in question.

Hawk's throat felt tight as she and the other members of the Fellowship walked up the driveway onto the porch. Everything hinged on finding the Suethor and her willingness to help them. If either piece fell through, Hawk had no idea what they would do next. She took a deep breath and stepped up to the door, ringing the bell.

The door opened, revealing a young woman balancing a toddler on her hip. She frowned in confusion at the sight of the strange gaggle of people on her porch. "Yes, can I help you?" she asked hesitantly as the toddler squirmed.

Hawk cleared her throat. "We're very sorry to bother you, but we're looking for the person who took these pictures." She held out the photographs. "They have this address written on the back."

The woman glanced at the photos. "I'm sorry, but it certainly wasn't us, and we've been living here for the past three years." She frowned in concentration, shifting the toddler a little, and took one of the photos, turning it over. Her eyes widened slightly. "Wait, I know this handwriting. It's my husband's great aunt's writing. She lived here for years before we inherited the house from her."

Hawk's heart sank. "She's dead then?"

The woman was still frowning thoughtfully at the photo. "No, though she hasn't been well for years. She wasn't able to live here alone any longer, so my husband arranged to have her move into an assisted living and we took over the care of her old house."

"Would we be able to speak to her?" Hawk asked.

The woman gave her a cautious look. "Do you mind me asking what business you have with her?"

Hawk paused only briefly. "We're doing some research on the history of these photographs, this house, and its residents. We would only need to speak to her briefly."

The woman was looking at Hawk now with a curious but keen expression. "Does this have anything to do with her…disappearance when she was younger?"

Now it was Hawk's turn to frown. "Disappearance?"

"Yes," the woman replied. "She disappeared for nearly a month when she was much younger. No one knows where she was during that time, but one day she simply came back and never spoke of it to anyone."

She paused then seemed to reach a decision. "I'll give you the address, but I'll warn you: she's a little…odd. She always used to say the most cryptic things and talk about elves and hob…hobbits and towers. And a pen. She'd go on and on about losing a pen." She shook her head. "I can't imagine any pen in the world being worth all the bother she used to make of it. You'd think it had to be made of pure gold." She sighed. "Anyway, just be prepared that it might be difficult to get much that makes sense out of her."

She scribbled something on a notepad and handed it to Hawk. "There's the address for the retirement home. Ask to see Irene Moore. I hope you're able to learn what you want to know about your photos."

Hawk took the paper, tucking it in her belt pouch, and inclined her head. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

They headed back down the driveway to the car. "It certainly sounds like the Suethor," Faramir said. "What do you think we'll find when we get there?"

Hawk swung herself into the driver's seat and turned on the car. "Hopefully someone who's willing to help us destroy the Pen," she answered grimly.

~o~o~o~

"Visitors for Irene Moore," Hawk said, stepping up to the front desk at the Oak Bluffs retirement home.

"Just a minute, I'll get you checked in and grab you a visitor badge," the woman at the front desk said, tapping away at the computer in front of her. She reached down behind the desk and slid a visitor ID across the counter to Hawk, then glanced at the characters grouped behind her. "I'm afraid we only allow three visitors at a time however."

Hawk turned to look at the Fellowship and quickly made a decision. "Legolas, you and Aura come with me. The rest of you, why don't you go across the street to the supermarket and restock our food supplies while we're talking to Irene. We'll meet you at the car after we're done."

Legolas and Aura slipped on their visitor IDs as Hawk finished the check in process. The woman pointed down the hall. "Irene is in Room 26. Have a nice visit."

They found Room 26 with no issues, and Hawk knocked on the door. There was a short pause, then a voice from within bid them enter. Hawk gently pushed the door open, and the three of them stepped into the small room.

They saw immediately why only the three of them had been permitted, as the space they stepped into was hardly big enough for more. They stood now in a little living room, with a recliner facing a TV on the far wall and a little table in the corner. Through a door at the far end was a small bedroom through which they could see sunlight steaming. What Hawk noticed immediately however were the drawings. They covered the walls, taped to every available surface. Some were likenesses of elves in armor or men with long hair or hobbits smoking pipes, while others were drawings of mountains, trees, and towers. In multiple places, there were pictures of what Hawk instantly recognized as Isinguard with its odd mish-mash of towers, turrets, and halls.

An old woman sat in the recliner, a sketch book in her lap. Her grey hair was braided in several plaits with silver beads and she was wearing a green dress that wouldn't have been entirely out of the place at a Renaissance Faire. But when she looked up at them, her blue eyes were bright and keen. There was no doubt in Hawk's mind that they had found the Suethor of the Pen.

"Ms. Moore," Hawk said politely but stiffly, "we need to talk to you."

The old woman's eyes however were fixed on Legolas. She set her drawing pad aside and rose slowly and stiffly, her eyes not leaving the elf prince. She lifted a hand and pointed at him. "You. You are not from this world."

Legolas slipped off his beanie, letting his long dark hair fall down his back and revealing his pointed ears. He bowed slightly. "No," he said, "I am Legolas, Prince of the Woodland Realm. These are my companions: Hawk and Aura. We need your help."

The Suethor approached him, a little smile twitching her lips. "Legolas," she repeated. She cupped his face in wrinkled hands. "It's been so long, sometimes I almost started to believe I'd dreamed it all: going to your world. But I still remember it all: the sunlight on the treetops of Mirkwood, the snow glistening on the Misty Mountains, the mist above the Anduin in the mornings." She trembled slightly. "Your world was the most beautiful place I'd ever seen."

Hawk stepped forward. "Well then, maybe you can help us save it."

Irene's eyes turned to Hawk, sharp and appraising, and her hands dropped from Legolas's face. "You are not from Middle-earth. You are from this world, like me."

"Correct," Hawk said stiffly. "I am an agent of KANON Institution."

The Suethor's eyes sparked at that name. "KANON Institution." Her lips curled. "You were the ones who drove me out from my tower, who chased me out of the world I loved and took everything from me. There were two that time: an elf with dark hair and a beautiful woman with sharp eyes. They took everything I had built and drove me back to this world, and I have never since found the road back." Anger flared in her keen eyes. "Why should I help you?"

Hawk's own sense of urgency and frustration caused her own anger to flare. "You had no right or authorization to be in that world to begin with. You were harming the Story, and our agents were sent to stop you before you completely destroyed it. If you truly loved Middle-earth, you would have left it alone, as it was, in peace."

"Love?" The Suethor shook her head violently and the silver beads in her hair tinkled. "If you took two toys – one untouched and left in its box, the other hugged and kissed until it was worn and falling apart – which would you say was loved more? I was not afraid to touch Middle-earth, to embrace it, to claim it for my own. I was not afraid to make myself a part of it. Who loved it more: the one who wove herself into it or the ones who could not bear to see it touched or changed?"

"You would have changed it beyond recognition, corrupted its beauty and its themes. If you had been allowed to keep the Pen, there would have been nothing left of the Middle-earth we are appointed to protect."

Aura stepped forward suddenly and laid a hand on Irene's arm. The Suethor turned to her and her eyes narrowed, her focus shifting away from Hawk. "And you, you are different from both the others." Her eyes widened. "You are one who was created by those like me."

"Yes," Aura said quietly. "I'm a Sue."

"Sue." Irene spat the word scornfully. "There's no such thing."

"But there is," Aura said in a puzzled tone. "I'm one. I'm a Sue."

"Child," Irene said firmly, lifting a hand and placing it over Aura's, "a Sue is merely their name for a character who does not fit their vision of the world. But they do not own it, as much as they pretend to, and you were created to belong in that world just as much as Legolas or any of the canon characters."

Aura looked over at Hawk, an uncertain expression in her eyes. Hawk stood frozen, staring at the interplay between the Sue and the Suethor.

Suddenly, Legolas stepped forward again, and before Hawk could stop him, he drew out the Pen.

Irene froze, her eyes glued to the Pen in the elf prince's hand. "My Pen…" she whispered. "Where did you…?"

"A great evil threatens Middle-earth," Legolas said quietly. "One who does not love Middle-earth, but only despises it and wishes to destroy our Author's work. She wants to get ahold of the Pen so that she can rewrite the entire world and take vengeance on both the characters and the agents of KI alike. Please, we need to destroy the Pen, and we need you to tell us how."

Irene continued to stare at the Pen, then suddenly she began to chortle. Hawk's eyebrows rose sharply in surprise. "All these years and my Pen finally comes back to me," Irene said, still chuckling deeply. "I never thought I'd see it again." She reached out a hand as if to grasp it.

"Please," Aura begged, gripping the Suethor's arm once again. "Please, we need your help to stop the evil threatening Middle-earth. If we don't, I won't have a home any more than the characters. There will be nothing left of the beauty of Middle-earth that you loved."

For a long moment, the glimmer of the Pen shone in Irene's eyes. Then slowly, she turned and made her way back to her recliner. She sat down heavily. "I cannot help you," she said, staring at the wall and the collage of drawings pasted there.

Dread began to fill Hawk's heart, along with a pulsing desperation. "Please," she added her own plea to Legolas and Aura's. "We may not agree on how Middle-earth should be loved, but at least we agree that it should be loved. There will be nothing left if you do not help us. We have nowhere else to turn."

Irene turned and fixed Hawk with her sharp gaze again. "You misunderstand me," she said. "I cannot help you, not because I wish to see Middle-earth destroyed, but because I cannot. There is no way to destroy the Pen. Even I could not do so if I wanted to. It is made with a magic stronger and more ancient than any that could be found in Middle-earth or any other world. There is nothing more powerful than the Pen."

Legolas shot the Suethor a desperate, fearful look. "There must be some way," he cried. "Perhaps it could be hidden? Or perhaps-"

"I'm sorry, Legolas," the Suethor said, turning her gaze to him again. "There is nothing that can destroy the Pen nor conceal its power forever. Your Quest is doomed."

Hawk's heart sank, darkness playing at the edge of her vision. Of all the fates she had foreseen, this had not been one: that their Quest had truly been hopeless from the beginning. They could not outrun Orinthia forever, and even if somehow they overthrew her, it would just be a matter of time before another Sue would arise to take her place and try to claim the Pen all over again. Even if they locked the Pen in the deepest, most secure vaults of KANON Institution, the worlds would never be truly and completely safe ever again.

"What are we to do then?" Hawk asked, her voice dry and choked.

Irene picked up her notepad again and began to sketch quick sharp lines with a pencil. "Do you want to know why I created the Pen? I was young and utterly enamored with the book I had just read: The Lord of the Rings. I was not satisfied to merely yearn after it and the world I had come to love more than my own home. No, I wished to write my name into its very pages and become part of its grand legacy myself. And so I sought after a power greater than any that had ever been seen in any world before, and with it I fashioned the Pen."

The lines on her paper began to come together, forming a picture of a tower reaching up towards a clouded sky. "If you do not wish to see others use the Pen, then use it yourself and make of the Story what you desire. It is what I did."

Hawk's stance was rigid. "I will not use the Pen," she growled. "That would go against everything I have fought for my entire life."

Irene shrugged and continued to draw in a quick flurry of lines. "Then I cannot tell you what else you must do, beyond this." She looked up and stared hard at Hawk. "You will have to face what you fear most, Hawk of KANON Institution. And you will have to face the truth that it is those who love the work of the Author and his world that keep it alive."

~o~o~o~

Across the street at the supermarket, Faramir, Eówyn, Gimli, and the hobbits were about finished loading up a basket with supplies, including a couple varieties of trail mix, some fresh fruit, and (at the stubborn persistence of Merry and Pippin) several types of mushrooms. They headed towards the front of the building and the checkout lanes, with Faramir carrying the basket as Merry and Pippin on either side of him made eager plans for how they were going to cook the mushrooms that evening. Gimli was engrossed in a magazine called Architectural Digest that he'd picked up from a rack at the front of the building, but Eówyn stood at the back of the line, shifting uneasily.

The Shieldmaiden scratched uncomfortably at the back of her neck. A strange creeping feeling had been steadily growing on her as they shopped. Ever since her showdown with the Witch-King of Angmar and her subsequent brush with the Black Breath, Eówyn had developed a knack for sensing the presence of evil. And right now, her internal evil sensors were going haywire with the sensation of wicked eyes stabbing into her.

She looked around again but saw nothing except the bustle of completely normal-looking people going about their shopping and paying the characters absolutely no heed.

They paid for the food and grabbed the plastic bags of supplies, then headed for the building's exit. "It's been about an hour," Faramir said as they exited and he looked up at the sun's position. "I imagine the others will be finishing up soon."

As they crossed the street, the uncomfortable prickling on Eówyn's spine suddenly spiked, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to rise. She cast a quick look behind them and felt her skin crawl as a tall shadowy figure slipped out of the supermarket behind them, half-concealed in the shadows and draped in a sinister black cloak. The being's face wasn't visible, but Eówyn could sense the creature's eyes fixed on her. Her skin tingled with alarm and her hand went automatically to her side, groping uselessly for a second until she remembered that she wasn't carrying her sword.

"Faramir," she hissed.

"What-?" He turned and saw where Eówyn was staring and went through the same helpless gesture of attempting to reach for his bow that wasn't there.

The figure moved, melting out of the shadows towards them. The characters backed up against the car, and Faramir began to frantically search their baggage for a weapon. Eówyn placed herself in front of the hobbits with Gimli at her side, prepared to fist fight the menacing figure if need be.

"Oh for Morgoth's sake, stop being so overdramatic. It's just me."

A familiar, if muffled, sardonic voice issued from the faceless figure. It lifted a four-fingered hand to pull down the black scarf covering its face, revealing two burning eyes.

"Sauron!" Eówyn, Gimli, and the hobbits cried out at once, a mixture of relief and perplexity in their voices.

"How ever did you escape the clutches of Orinthia?" Gimli exclaimed, voicing what all of them were thinking. "We thought for sure you were lost."

Sauron snorted. "Well unfortunately for you, I'm very hard to get rid of. I'll explain everything, but somewhere out of the open. Everyone keeps staring at me."

"Can't imagine why," Faramir muttered. "Can't possibly have anything to do with the fact that you're eight feet tall and dressed all in black."

Sauron gave the Ranger his signature evil eye but otherwise opted to ignore the comment. "Where are Hawk and Legolas?" he asked. "I need to talk to all of you, and it's urgent."

"They should be back any minute," Eówyn said. "And hopefully, they have good news about the Pen." She hesitated then spoke in a slightly stiff voice. "By the way, thanks for what you did for us…back in Isinguard."

Sauron smirked a little. "I was rather spectacular, wasn't I? But don't thank me too thoroughly until you hear my news."

~o~o~o~

"So, it appears that we've hit a dead end."

The Fellowship was gathered around a picnic table under a pavilion at a small, off-the-beaten-track park that Hawk used to visit frequently as a child. Over lunch, Hawk relayed the bad news about the Pen and their Quest, and a somber silence had fallen over everyone.

"So, what do we do now?" Eówyn asked heavily as Hawk finished.

The Sue-Slayer looked more tired than the characters had ever seen her. There were dark circles under her eyes and her usually impeccable bun was frizzy. She ran a hand down her face. "I'm sorry…but I don't know. I don't know where we go from here."

Legolas had felt a slow sense of dread building up in him ever since the meeting with Irene Moore. He took a deep breath. "If the Pen can't be destroyed, then it has to be protected. And…and it seems obvious that I'm the one who needs to do it."

But Hawk was already shaking her head. "We can't ask that of any one person, Legolas. The Pen will never be safe."

Legolas's expression didn't change. "I know. And you don't need to ask; I'm offering."

Hawk put a hand on his shoulder. "And we all appreciate your courage, but it won't work. It would defeat the very purpose of keeping the Sues from getting the Pen in the first place. There's no way you can be the protector of the Pen and also play your part in the Story. And so the Story would be distorted anyway, which is the very reason we're trying to destroy the Pen to begin with."

Legolas nodded and sank back, looking defeated, but a small trickle of relief ran through him at the same time.

Sauron cleared his throat. "Not to be even more of a downer, but the situation may be even more dire than you realize."

Everyone looked at the Dark Lord. "What happened to you after we escaped through the portal?" Faramir asked.

For once, there was no hint of sarcasm in Sauron's voice and his fiery eyes were deadly earnest. "Things aren't good back in Middle-earth. Orinthia has taken over everything. I spent most of my time in the dungeons of Orthanc, but I gathered that she's got almost all the main characters either down there in the cells or under her power. I also overheard that the Sue-Slayers sent a force to try to stop her, but she routed them and has most of them in her dungeons as well. She doesn't need the Pen to start destroying Middle-earth however she pleases."

Murmurs of dismay came from the other members of the Fellowship, but Hawk's face was hard. "And what about you? I can't imagine she just let you out of her dungeon of her own good will."

Sauron smiled wryly. "No indeed. I made a deal with her."

"What?" There were several outraged shouts, and Eówyn rose up in her seat angrily, but Sauron just rolled his eyes and held up a hand.

"Give me a chance to explain. I made a deal with Orinthia, a deal I have no intention of upholding on my end." He chuckled darkly. "The nice thing about being a villain is that there's absolutely no obligation to play fair."

Hawk looked grim. "I think you'd better explain everything to us."

Sauron nodded. "There's not terribly much to tell. I spent most of my time bored out of my wits in some Orthanc dungeon, but unsurprisingly, Orinthia attempted to strike a deal with me. I deliver all you heroes and the Pen into her hands, and in return, she rewrites the Story so that I win the War and get my Ring back. Not the worst deal in the history of deal-making but still disappointingly transparent. And she actually thought I'd take her up on it!"

"Why didn't you?" Gimli asked, frowning. "Isn't that exactly what you want?"

Sauron snorted. "Because I know exactly how deals like that play out (though I'm usually the one offering them, to be fair) and I know they always come with a catch. She's more of a fool than I first thought she was, if she thought she could twist me around her finger that easily. Yes, I want my Ring back, but not at the cost of becoming the indebted vassal to another, higher power who can just rewrite my Story again the moment I put a toe out of line. I had quite enough of that in the First Age. I'll rule my own way or not at all, thank you very much!"

"So, what was your part of the deal that Orinthia thinks you're carrying out?" Hawk asked.

"She sent me to find you to do two things: to deliver an ultimatum and to lure you into a trap she's preparing. Number One: the ultimatum. She says if you don't bring her the Pen by sunset tomorrow, she's going to start killing her KI prisoners, starting with Porter. She told me to tell you to meet her on the steps of Orthanc tomorrow evening with the Pen."

Sauron tapped the table with his fingers. "However, she doesn't expect you to actually hand over the Pen. The ultimatum is just a cover. Her real plan is to ambush you at the Hub tomorrow and take the Pen. I was sent to convince you to go back to the Hub, under the pretense that you need the advice and support of the other Sue-Slayers, and then she was going to trap you there."

Hawk was nodding. "So, we now know what Orinthia's plans are, but that still doesn't show us a clear way forward ourselves."

"Just two more questions," Faramir said, looking doubtfully at Sauron. "First, how did you find us, and second, how do we know that Orinthia won't suspect you of double-crossing her?"

"Fair enough questions," Sauron conceded. "In answer to your first question, Orinthia was able to trace the residual magic from the portal you went through and deduce where you went, so she sent me after you. From there, all I had to do was track you here, and that wasn't too hard. I haven't always had the Nazgûl to do that sort of thing for me, and you don't become the Dark Lord by not knowing how to find the people you're looking for.

"As for your second question, Orinthia doesn't know that I know, but she put some sort of tracking spell on me before she released me. I figure you already guessed that's what she did with Aura and how she knew where we were in Middle Earth. Of course, her spell on Aura doesn't work here in a world without magic, but she countered that with me by essentially generating a magic field around me, making me a walking bubble of magic in which her spell will still function here. That way, she can track all my movements and know I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing."

The other members of the Fellowship shifted uneasily. "Doesn't that mean that you being with us endangers us?" Faramir asked warily.

Sauron laughed scornfully. "Well, it would, if Orinthia hadn't thoroughly underestimated me again. I wasn't supposed to know about this tracking spell and was supposed to unwittingly lead her to you, but I'd sense any magic being worked on my being from a hundred leagues away. So as soon as I was out of her grasp, I reworked the spell myself. It's now attached to a very random albatross somewhere in New Zealand, which should keep her very distracted and confused and otherwise occupied for at least a little while. But she'll figure it out sooner or later, and as soon as she does, she'll know I betrayed her and she'll be back on our trail again."

"So, what do we do?" Eówyn asked, placing her palm down firmly on the table. "I for one do not wish to simply wait for Orinthia to come after us and find us."

"But what other choices do we have?" Gimli asked solemnly. "We appear to be neatly pinned in by the crafty Sue."

"We go back to the Hub."

Everyone turned to look at Hawk in surprise. "But won't we be walking straight into Orinthia's trap?" Merry asked with concern.

Hawk's face was resolute. "According to Sauron, she expects us to arrive in the Hub tomorrow. However, we can get a jump on her and get there before her and maybe hold the fort against her when she does arrive. Part of Orinthia's plan is true: we do need support and advice. We can't hide forever and nor can we keep on the run forever. We're going to have to face her, and KANON Institution is the strongest fortress left to resist her. The President may have an idea about the Pen that we haven't thought of yet."

She smiled grimly. "And there's something poetic about it too. The Quest started at the Hub. Perhaps it's fitting that it should end there too, one way or another."