Eleven: Interceptor

If Boromir was surprised they were moving so swiftly to relocate him, he did not show it. What did surprise him was that they provided him the means to do so, using a bit of the mithril still left from Talion's previous trips to Moria. The Man told them of passing through the lost dwarven realm with the Ringbearer to deliver the One to its doom, and of Gandalf dropping Moria's Balrog down a bottomless chasm before being dragged down after it.

"Well, at least it will be safer for you when you go get more mithril, eh, Gravewalker?" Naredir said, looking over at the Ringwraith.

Talion was leaning against Daerwen's side, the drake's head in his lap as she drowsed under the gentle scratch of his gauntleted hands. "I knew how to avoid Durin's Bane, Naredir, and it was far less of a bother than you seem to think. There were a great number of tunnels in the deep mines that were too narrow for it to fit, and too distant for its fire to reach. No, the real trouble came from the hordes of orcs and cave goblins there - they seemed even more endless than Sauron's armies, boiling up out of every crack and crevice… See? Boromir knows what I mean."

The Man had paled and shuddered at Talion's words. "I do indeed," he said, and described more of the Fellowship of the Ring's misadventures in Moria up to the fight on the Bridge of Khazad-dûm. The mountain orcs and cave goblins spilled out of a blasted, splitting crack in the ceiling of the great hall where Balin, son of Fundin, had been laid to rest in a small side chamber. The numberless hordes had been so great that the massive pillars they climbed down head-first seemed to be alive with their movement, covered from crown to base, and they had carpeted the floor of the hall in an army that at least equaled if not exceeded the one Sauron had sent against the White City.

"Yes, that sounds about right." Talion found a loose scale in Daerwen's armor and carefully worked it free, then handed it off to the Ranger she snorted at. Said Ranger cradled the scale to his chest like a prize of honor - which, in a way, it was; Daerwen did not give her shed scales away to just anyone. Only those she judged worthy of them. Boromir had one of his own, though where it was the wraith didn't know. "Hopefully their numbers have thinned a little without the Balrog there to hold them in thrall. I suppose I could go on a bit of a rampage through their ranks, just to make it easier, but I've said it before and I'll say it again: I don't want to begin a new Age with senseless slaughter."

"I'd hardly call it senseless," one of the Rangers grunted, straining with teeth bared as he arm-wrestled with Râsh, "but I see your point. They have never known your shelter - they don't know anything but what Sauron or Durin's Bane commanded of them."

"You thinkin' about recruiting some of 'em, Gravewalker?" Râsh managed. He was having a time of it; they were almost equally matched.

"I haven't decided. Haven't really even thought about it, truth be told," he replied. "If there were some among their number willing to forsake the evil of Sauron and Morgoth, the only reasonably safe place for them to live would be Mordor, which is a long way from Moria. The only roads from one to the other pass near or through realms of Elves and Men with no love for them. Even if there were only a couple hundred from their numbers, it would be enough to draw unwise attention, and we no longer have the drake-numbers to bring them to safety by air. Where have all the drakes gone, anyway?"

An Orc stepped forward.

"Go ahead, Norsko."

"Near as we can tell, after you fell, what dragons there were left - I think it was only two or three - they gathered all the drakes and left Mordor, headed north, cause they didn't want to serve Sauron again after he tried to steal from 'em," Norsko answered. "I was on the Gate that day, and they all flew overhead, every last one of 'em, except for Lady Daerwen here."

The drake huffed a small cloud of smoke.

"Don't know why, or even where they was goin', but they're not in Mordor anymore. That's why the Shriekers only had the Black Wings to ride against Tirith."

"Good thing too," another Ranger hummed, observing Daerwen's head and neck closely and whittling a good likeness from a stick. "Valar, I shudder to think of what would have happened if there had been drakes or even dragons setting the city ablaze."

"Agreed," Talion said before looking down at the drake in his lap. "Anything to add, sweetheart? Any idea where everyone else went?"

The Not-Nome.

"'The Not-Home'?"

My home is where you are. They went to the Not-Home, the other nest to Fire-Wing kind. When we go where our other friends are, up in the cold - the big-single-mountain-Dwarf-nest and the Man-nest in its shadow - it's further north than that.

"Further north than Dale and Erebor?" But then Talion understood. "The Grey Mountains, and the Withered Heath where the dragons breed. That's where they've gone."

"That's even further away than Moria!" Râsh yelped, and then yelped again when he finally lost the arm-wrestling match. The Ranger crowed his victory, which led to a real wrestling match when the Orc took offense and tackled him to the ground.

"Hey! Watch the flames!"

"Sorry, Gravewalker!"

Though he had known of Daerwen and the other drakes, Boromir had never flown with them before and was extremely wary of going anywhere on the wing. Unfortunately, he did not have a choice if he wanted to make it to Dale and get settled in before winter. Even just traveling up the Harad Road from Minas Morgul to the Black Gate took the better part of several days on foot, to say nothing of slogging through the Dead Marshes and trekking across the Brown Lands to the southern end of Mirkwood, then up the River Running to the Long Lake and Dale beyond. Even by horse or caragor, it would not be a quick or easy journey.

But Daerwen could cover the distance in a few days, even with rests. It would also give Talion the chance to check on the dragons and drakes on the Withered Heath and fly by Moria on their way back to Mordor. They could not tame and train the great fire-breathers, not yet - and more likely, not ever - but getting them back to Mordor would go a long way towards keeping her other predators from growing beyond control and decimating the land.

While the Ringwraith checked the last section of the drake's harness for strength and stability for the long flight, Boromir approached. "Talion, if it's not too much trouble…"

"What is it?" Talion asked, even as Daerwen snaked her head around and ruffled the Man's golden hair with her hot breath.

"Would it be possible to… to stop briefly in Minas Tirith? I want to retrieve Lady Daerwen's scale from my rooms, of course, but there is something else I would like to bring with me to Dale - assuming it is still where I left it…"

"Is it anything distinct where if someone came looking, they would know it was missing?"

Boromir appeared contemplative despite the fire drake sniffing his hair. "No, not as such. It is small, and only of significance to myself and my brother. In his case, it can be passed off as something that was lost with me."

Talion hummed, then nodded. "We'll be leaving at night anyway, to avoid being seen. We'll just have to move fast and stay quiet."

The drake whuffed.

"Daerwen wants to know what's so important that you're willing to potentially risk your life to retrieve it."

The Man peered up at the drake, who huffed again, making him cough at her sulfurous breath. He waved a hand to clear the air and said, "When my brother Faramir and I were young, we would go often to the House of our lord uncle - our mother's brother, Prince Imrahil - in Dol Amroth. Once, he took us north to the Edhellond, to learn to sail on a river smaller and less treacherous than the mighty Anduin." He looked west, where the river in question glimmered in the morning light. "Faramir found a strange rock on the shore, and our Lord Uncle encouraged us to break it open, so we did. By some miracle, it came apart in two equal pieces, revealing that it was hollow within, but filled with the most brilliantly white crystals."

Talion hummed. "We get those in Mordor, too. Swinsere, an Elven friend of ours, calls them geodes."

Boromir blinked at the mention of Elven friends - though he had known of them, he had never met Eltariel or Maglor, and had probably forgotten about them - but he forged ahead anyway. "We each kept one half, so that whenever we saw ours we would think of the other half, and each other. I left my half behind in Minas Tirith when I set out for Rivendell, because I could not find it before my departure. If I am doomed to never see my brother again, I would carry the memory of him with me."

The Ringwraith looked up at Daerwen, who met his gaze. She exhaled briefly, nostrils narrowing. The things we do for family.

He nodded. "I have a knack for finding things; I will help you look."

Daerwen landed once more on the slopes of Mount Mindolluin, and though he murmured at the sacrilege - especially of leaving Horza and the drake in such a holy place as the Hallows of the Kings - Boromir still followed Talion carefully down the Kingsway, finally beholding the new White Tree planted in the courtyard of the palace, leaves and branches almost glowing in the moonlight. The Man whispered a reverent prayer at the sight of it, keeping his voice low, but there was no need; for the moment, at least, there was only one guard in the courtyard, one Talion recognized, even in the dark.

"Hithaer."

The guardsman jumped and spun, mithril spear at the ready in an instant - but then he recognized the wraith and relaxed with an utterly relieved smile. "Grandfather," he whispered, and embraced the other with one arm, careful not to let their armor clatter together and alert the further-flung guards to the intruders. "I am glad beyond words to see you with my own eyes. Welcome back."

"It's good to be back, but I'm afraid there is little time to talk." Talion gestured for the other Man to approach. "You know Boromir?"

Hithaer brightened, grinning and bowing to the son of Denethor, a gesture he returned. "I do indeed. Welcome back, Captain; we were told that you were dead."

"He was."

"Ah." That made the guardsman's smile slip a little. "So then you cannot stay. But it is good to see you alive regardless. What brings you to Minas Tirith so late?"

Boromir explained, and Hithaer nodded. "So far as I am aware, your rooms are undisturbed, my lord," the guardsman whispered. "Or at least I have never seen any servants cleaning them out. All should be as you left it, though the door may be locked."

"I can take care of that. Thank you."

"Of course, grandfather. But you should hurry; my watch ends soon."

The Ringwraith let Boromir take the lead; the only time he had actually set foot in the palace had been when he was exiled from the White City, so he hardly knew it well. But Boromir had been born in these halls, and lived in them all his life; at least among the living, only his brother and the servants and guards knew them better. He sneaked them through the corridors to the rooms that had once been his own and tried the door - locked, as Hithaer had said it might be. Talion stepped up and quietly called a shade for only as long as it took to unlock the door from the inside, then released it again, hoping no one who could notice had done so.

"Remember, we need to leave everything as we found it," the Ringwraith murmured, "Your geode is… there. In the bottom of that chest."

"How in the blazes did it end up with my socks? Ah, here is Lady Daerwen's scale as well." Boromir opened the chest and dug through it, reclaiming his geode half and the scale before closing the chest once more and following Talion back out. Hithaer remained at his post but gave them a wave of farewell as they ascended the Kingsway once more.

Horza was where they left him, the edge of his great shield planted in the ground so he could lean against it and stare up the slope of the mountain. Daerwen was wriggling in the perpetual snow near the summit some distance above them, gathering great mounds of ice under her wings and using the wide membranes to fling it all skyward, shaking herself in delight when it rained back down on her. Talion ignored Boromir blinking in surprise at her (they had been at war with Sauron, so he had never seen her at play) and whistled quietly, giving a gentle tug on their bond. The drake let out an unhappy mrrr but abandoned the snow and glided down to them, ice glittering silver-white in the moonlight and streaming from her wings like a rain of diamonds.

You look very pretty, sweetheart.

The drake purred and nuzzled him, then crouched to let them all climb back into her saddle. Then she took flight once more and winged back over Minas Tirith, heading out into the night. They crossed the Anduin back into Ithilien and went up into the Mountains of Shadow before angling north. "We'll camp for the day at what's left of the Black Gate," Talion called back to the other riders and also ahead to Daerwen. "Still safer to fly at night and avoid being spotted, even in the Brown Lands. After, we'll go up to the southern edge of Mirkwood, and then on to Dale and Erebor."

But as they drew near to Udûn, Talion went deathly still.

There was a fell power on the wind - one he knew well, and hated.

"Gravewalker?" Horza shifted to bring his halberd up, wary. "You having an attack?"

Talion slowly turned to stare into the blighted land of Udûn. So close to Gorgoroth and the Collapse, it too had been devastated by Sauron's fall, but there was still enough in the ruins for some to survive there. "Khamûl," the Ringwraith growled. "He's close."

"The Black Easterling?" Boromir only half-asked, his hands falling to his sword and closing tight around the handle and sheath, ready to draw at a moment's notice. "Second of the Nine? He remains?"

"Not for very much longer," Talion replied with venom in his voice. "It seems we will be delayed a little in getting you to Dale."

The Man nearly snorted. "No delay, only a welcome reprieve," he said, with a battle-ready edge to match Talion's. "If you will permit me, I would gladly offer you my sword in this fight, and stand alongside you one last time."

The Ringwraith exchanged a glance with Horza before turning back to the Gondorian. "Don't fall behind, then. You both should rest in the morning while I scout, and then we will attack in the afternoon."