Bunnie leaned back on one of the three workbenches in Tails's workshop. Then Ant, bless his heart, tripped over a bundle of cables into her arms. She set him straight, and not for the first time today she thought: Sal, ya never taught your kid to pick up after himself?

In her estimation, the place was a mess: a big old electromagnet here, a blaster rack there, bits and bobs, nuts and bolts, everywhere.

It always became a mess, no matter how many times she'd insisted on not leaving the shop until the floor was safe for guests to walk on. She'd given up trying to straighten the shelves long ago.

Least he knows where everything is.

Gleam of steel on the workbench opposite her: the sword, illuminated by the dingy, cobwebbed fluorescent lights that hung from the ceiling.

Antoine saw it, too. He let out a low whistle. A few horns of Vector's mead had imparted an airy quality to his voice. "Zut alors, zat is a massive poker."

"Found it last week," Bunnie said with a smile, "in some human crypt, with some other stuff. Ah think Sal's got a whiff on what it's all about now." More conspiratorially, she added: "Glows in the dark, too."

"Does it?" He took her hand of flesh, stepped to get a closer look with her.

Too late, Bunnie saw the stray data disc on the floor. Far too late, she said: "Watch it!"

"Yipe!"

Bunnie let herself fall.

She sprawled on top of him, her nose in the back of his neck. "Shouldn't zis being ze other way around?" Antoine muttered.

Bunnie grinned, faking shock. "Antoine! And Ah thought ya a gentleman!"

Sonic's chuckle above them. "Skipped right to the honeymoon, huh?"

Bunnie buried her nose deeper into Ant's neck, gave a loud, exaggerated sniff that made her sweet coyote giggle. Ticklish. Always was, weren't ya? "Why not? Don't have a priest to officiate, do we?"

As Sonic helped her and Ant up, Sally and that deer with the weird name came in. "What happened?" Sally asked.

Sonic dusted off Antoine's shoulders, snickering as he pointed at the cause of the fall: "Oh, Ant just slipped a disc."

Sally rolled her eyes, though Bunnie noticed the smile flicker across her lips. Glad she can still laugh a bit.

Sally performed a head count, shook her head. "Tails should really have been here by now." Her eyes cut to Sonic. "Any idea where he could've go–"

The door to the shop slammed open behind Sally, and Tails rushed in, eyes huge, wild, frantic, his fur bristled like he'd just touched a live wire.

Sally gasped. "Tails, what happened to you?"

"Sal! Sal!" He ran up to her, wrapped her in a desperate hug. "It's true. All of it."

Sally, to her credit, kept her calm, as Tails clung to her like a raft in a rapid. "Tails, what are you–"

"All of it!" he sobbed, "Aragorn was human!"

"Who was–"

"Gandalf, Galadriel, Thorin, Legolas, GIMLI!"

Sonic's snickers turned to laughter.

Annoyance, mixed with genuine fright, replaced Sally's shock. "Miles Prower, are you dr–"

"ALL OF THEM, DON'T YOU GET IT!?" the young todd roared, his pubescent voice cracking an octave deeper as he seized her shoulders, shook them. "ROBOTNIK KNOWS! EVERYONE WAS HUMAN! EVERYTHING IS HUMAN! ITS ALL HUMANS, ALL THE WAY DOWN!"

Bunnie knew what mad cap intoxication looked like. Pretty much all of them had experienced it. And it looked like Tails had managed to get hold of one, and was tripping out, worse than even Sonic had.

She was immediately beside Sally, gently helping the poor princess remove the hands from her shoulders. "It's okay, Sugar-Fox," Bunnie cooed as she looked into his enormous, dilated pupils, "okay, everyone was human. Okay. What does Robotnik know?"

Tails buried his face in Sally's neck.

"Curtelum," the deer–Felagund, was it?–said quietly, sounding as concerned as he was amused. "He walks in the gardens of Lórien."

Tails's ears snapped to attention. "Lórien!" he whispered hoarsely, reverently, as if reciting a prayer. His face came up in silent plea, his eyes running wildly over the room."You cannot count the leaves of Lórien...'"

Amy stopped at the door to catch her breath. Her expression was equal parts I am so damn sorry and What the actual filigree is happening? "I wanted to call ahead–" Amy began, before Tails interrupted her.

"'They do not fall, but…'" Tails slowly looked toward Felagund, practically vibrating, breath ragged as he recited. "'They do not fall, but..change...their…hue?'"

The deer cocked his head, curious.

"Tails," Sally said, gently catching his arm, turning his head back to make him look at her, "We can talk to this man later. What did you take? How much have you had to drink?"

Antoine joined them. Unsure, he rested a hand on the hyperventilating kid's shoulder. When Tails didn't bite, flinch, or twist around for a punch, he began massaging the muscle there. He then glanced at Sally, Bunnie, Sonic, Amy. "Can zomeone explaining to me what iz happening?"

Tails fully turned away from them, pushed out of the little circle, faced the stranger. "You're...you're from Lothlórien?"

With strange grace, Felagund sat on his knees. Good call, Bunnie thought. The deer seemed to know how imposing his height was to them, and was trying to make himself as non-threatening to Tails as possible.

His rich tenor voice, though barely above a whisper, carried to Bunnie's sharp ears. "Alas, little loremaster," he said, as he took both of Tails's shaking hands, "I am not of Lothlórien. Not of the Dreamwood."

That smile again. The smile of someone too old to look so young. Full of regret?

Not quite. A few years ago, after she and Sonic helped foil Robotnik's attempted theft of the Master Emerald, Knuckles taught her an Echidna word that had stuck with her. What was it?

Aay'han, she remembered. She remembered how Knuckles's face changed as he explained the concept: part nostalgia, part regret, but far more intense than either. The kind of emotion unique to a soldier who'd fought a hundred battles and still honored the friends lost in each one. How did Knuckles put it?

"Joy's a kind of happiness; aay'han's a kind of bittersweet."

Tails stilled, but pupils remained huge, his fur bushy, as he stared into the deer's face. "Who are you?"

The deer didn't seem to hear him. He studied Tails openly, apparently fascinated.

Bunnie heard Sally's breath catch. Something startled her. She glanced at Sally. To her surprise, Sally stared at Felagund, as transfixed as Tails was. She was…listening? To what, though?

Sonic laid a hand on Sal's shoulder, but his eyes too were drawn to Felagund, who continued to study the young fox. Whatever question was on his lips, died.

Antoine jumped, as if startled.

Bunnie was about to ask if he'd tripped again, when Amy jumped, too. Both of them stared, mouths agape at Tails and the deer.

Then Bunnie heard the deer's voice.

Not aloud, though. Honestly, it was more like a feeling, like a finger poking her forehead.

This boy knows more than he realizes. You would be wise to heed him.

Instead of staring, Bunnie looked sharply at Sally; her princess's eyes responded Yes. I know. He's a friendly.

Bunnie didn't like it. At all. Speed, strength, even the crazy things Sonic could do with a Chaos Emerald, she could accept.

But not this. Mind-reading reminded her too much of the "programming" Robotnik had cackled about downloading into her brain, before Sonic saved her.

Aloud, gently, quietly, Felagund said to Tails: "Hen Yavanneo."

Tails's shaking ceased. Perfectly still now, too still, practically frozen where he stood.

The deer continued. "You are needed. Tolo ad o naer, a dhû Lórien."

Tails's eyes slid shut. For a moment he swayed on his feet, began to fall, when Sonic caught him.

The young todd's eyelids slightly opened, as if he were half-asleep. "Hnm?" His breathing slowed.

Sonic checked his pulse, mouthed normal to Sally, then ruffled the top of Tails's head. "Hey, Big Guy. You awake? You okay?"

Tails looked groggy now. Like he'd only been napping moments ago. "Yeah, I…I think so," he breathed, sounding like he'd blown out his vocal chords. As Sonic set him on his feet, Tails met Sally's raised eyebrow, and smiled sheepishly. "I'm grounded, aren't I?"

Sonic snorted, giving his little brother a noogie. "Ohh, yes you are." He said to Felagund: "Psychic, huh? What'd you do, trip a breaker in his head?" He grinned. "Can you tell what I'm thinking, right now?"

Before Felagund could answer, the great Piko Hammer appeared in Amy's hands.

"Alright." She stalked forward, giving the weapon a one-handed twirl. "Who are you, where the hell did you come from, why did you just talk into my head, and what did you just do to Tails?"

To most opponents, Amy would have cut one scary figure: a small hedgehog, easily wielding such a huge hammer, ears flattened, gritted canines shining, fiery green eyes blazing from the blue woad-marks streaked across her face. "Who. Are. You?" she growled.

But Felagund remained where he sat. "Peace, young warrior," he said evenly, though no small astonishment crossed his face. He showed his palms. "Your loremaster is sobered. Nothing more."

Bunnie had to grin: only Amy could intimidate this weirdo, eerily calm as he was.

Then Sally spoke, reaching into her vest. A small item, wrapped in dark cloth. "What can you tell us about this?*"

The gem, Bunnie realized.

Everyone gasped.

Light. Summer, spring, moonrise, sunset, silver fire filled the room.

The Piko Hammer slipped from Amy's numb fingers, and clunked to the floor.

Maedhros, son of Feänór, turned away from the silent prisoner, a young black wolf with piercing green eyes. He seemed tall for his kind, lanky from malnutrition, but still aware.

And surprisingly, unafraid of Maedhros. Defiant, even.

Quietly, Maedhros said to the madman: "This one is unbroken. He will serve."

Caranthir, the liveliest of the spectres, grinned approvingly. "Excellent choice, brother! Save for the eyes, he seems Carcaroth in miniature."

Amrod nodded. "His hroä will certainly–"

"–withstand the music," Amras finished.

The captives were not restrained by iron bars, but by walls of transparisteel, closer to high-tech insane asylum than a real prison.

Diligently, eagerly, Lord Ivo Robotnik drafted on a datapad, as he and the visiting spectres went deeper into the dim cell block. The spectres wanted bodies.

But it wasn't a matter of mere puppeting; nor was it a matter of blocking the host's base programming with downloaded protocols, like with roboticization. The hosts had to be coaxed out and the specters slotted in.

Both had to be done simultaneously, an osmotic process. That required setup: runes, words, and intriguingly, music.

So as the madman wrote, tasting rhymes and phrases under his breath, the other ghosts began to fan out.

Caranthir was of a height with Maedhros, clad in the same red armor, but blonde, broader of shoulder, and as quick with a laugh as he was with a scowl. More importantly, he seemed the most eager to face that damned blue rat.

The dark-haired twins, Amrod and Amras, went together down one hall. They seemed to be a package deal, speaking in an echo that gave the madman a rare case of the creeps.

Curufin dropped away next, wordless as well. His silence was curiously analytical, a more natural, purposeful silence. What's more, Curufin seemed genuinely impressed by the Single Elegant Machine that the madman had designed, from the security cameras and SWAT Bots and Robians, to the powerful computers and AI that ran the entirety of Robotropolis.

Celegorm was last, more slender than Maedhros, and blonde like Caranthir. Unlike his siblings–who moved and spoke with a quiet grace–the haughty old boy loved the sound of his own voice.

"Hardly Oromé's stallions," Celegorm sniffed, "But I deem them sturdy enough." He flashed Maedhros a toothy smile. "I shall not linger. Sturdy, aye, but these seem skittish as foxes." Then he disappeared down a hall to the right.

Maedhros watched him go.

"Funny choice for a host, son of Feänór," the madman commented, "Subject 246 is 'unbroken,' you say. But may I ask why? Surely a broken creature would be easier to…displace?"

Maedhros seemed to consider the question. "The ritual I gave to you, I learned while a prisoner of the first Dark Lord."

Lord Ivo Robotnik couldn't restrain a chuckle. "The Black Doom?" Ridiculous. A prisoner of the Vermin's boogeyman?

Maedhros did not smile. "The Black Foe. In our tongue, Morgoth." He began to move, eyeing each of the cells with an unreadable expression. "His music killed the broken, and broke the strong."

It was curious, seeing a creature float along in such a stately manner. Before the madman could field more questions, Maedhros asked: "What are these creatures? Surely they do not dwell here, nor underground like the Naugrim did?"

"Naugrim?" Robotnik asked.

Maedhros ignored the question. "This city sleeps, but for your creations," he pressed. "Are all of your citizens imprisoned?"

"Ah, I see," the madman said, "No, no, no, the former infestation has been dealt with."

"Dead, then."

"Not yet." The madman, Master of Mobius, Doctor Ivo Robotnik, turned smug. "Most have been relocated, to accommodations more…appropriate to their station. Far from here, with them on the bottom, us on top, and the Machine running their lives. Once they understand their place, they will fade away. Leaving us in charge."

"'Us?'" Maedhros echoed.

"Humanity." Lord Ivo Robotnik loosed an elaborate sigh. "A catastrophic turn of events, isn't it? The Vermin replacing us, scuttling and scurrying among our ruins, writing copies of our laws, raising imitations of our towers, all lesser imitations of Men's works."

Maedhros quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Lord Ivo Robotnik felt every ounce of restrained contempt in that eyebrow. His teeth ground together. "Oh, this amuses you, does it?"

The reply was smooth, calm, matter-of-fact. "We are not Men." The ghost stepped–or rather, glided–past the madman.

"Ghosts, then," the madman allowed, "my apologies."

"'Eldar' is the word you seek, Lord Robotnik."

Barely audible, barely intelligible whispers up the hall. Maedhros began to follow them.

"Eldar, then." The madman tasted the word under his breath before asking: "Who were you, in life?"

Maedhros didn't answer for a long time. Almost leisurely, he kept gliding down the hall, toward the source of inane whispers. "Some Men knew us as The Eldest."

Strange creature, this Eldar. The madman remembered the line "By the Eldest was he pursued" inscribed on Elrohir's tomb. "How eldest?"

A deadpan reply, as the madman quickened his pace. "Neither sun nor moon watched our first battle. Only after, were they set in the sky."

Exaggeration and outdated cosmology. It had to be. Mobius orbited a star, and in turn a moon orbited it, reflecting the star's light. Still, it was intriguing to hear such things from one who actually lived with that cosmology.

The madman cut off his train of thought. These Eldar were assets first, history lessons second. He needed to know what made them tick. "What is the Heart of the Earth?"

Maedhros halted.

Celegorm's voice echoed behind them. "Well met, little vixen." A feminine shriek, followed by its mockery, and a laugh. "Truly, thou art a furrier's dream made flesh!"

The madman smiled to himself as he caught up with Maedhros. "Why is it so important to you? Why fight a war for it? Is it…" He pronounced the adjective with grudging curiosity: "Magical?"

A bellowed protest, cut off. Then Caranthir's growl. "Hold your tongue, beastling."

Maedhros turned. The same, chilling glare that he'd given in the throne room.

Curufin, polite as a physician. "Show me your paws. Flex them. There. Yes, quite a fine build, you have my thanks."

The madman paused, feigning deference. He wasn't used to that, but was either deference, or an eternal blackout. He couldn't have that. Not with the princess nearly in his grasp. What would Sniveley say? "I only ask because–"

Maedhros cut off his excuse with ice. "It is a jewel. Our father's finest work, and ours by rights."

So, these Eldar had discovered gemstone synthesis, yet still used swords and bows? How? The madman keyed his observations into the datapad. "Yours by rights," he conceded smoothly. "Farbeit from me to–"

"Listen well, Man," Maedhros said, suddenly far, far too close.

Swallowing, the madman nodded. Too close. Unconsciously he took a step back. In the back of his mind, he also thought: There's more. It must be magical. Maybe even a Chaos Emerald that his father claimed to create.

Thunder gathered in the ghost's voice, as he raised a burned, ethereal finger to point. "Be he friend or foe, bright Vala, brood of Morgoth, Elda, Maia, Man, or any other creature that should find this jewel and keep, or afar cast it, shall receive the death from Feänór's kin."

Ancient ice rolled down the madman's spine. Why?

Maedhros quieted, but his voice was no less sharp as he added: "This is the oath we swore, and we keep it beyond our perishing."

Imperiously, the ghost turned and continued down the hall.

The madman took a moment to center himself. Words, that's all they are. He looked down at the datapad. Unless they were from another ritual?

Suddenly, the right phrase came to him. A perfect chorus, for a potent melody. It marched. He began to hum the melody as he wrote. "Be he friend or a foe or foul or clean…"

The Piko Hammer clunked to the floor. The telepathic Felagund was forgotten.

No amount of strung lights, candles, or high-watt flashlights could come close. They never should.

Light. Sunshine on the green hill above her burrow. The fireplace during Yule, and the snow outside after the blizzard.

A star, in the palm of Sally's hand.

She tried to smile the way she normally did. It came out crooked. Not with grief. But relief. The blackness of the past week retreated to the edges of her mind, as she drew nigh to the Light.

Her eyes felt hot. Her voice was small, hopeful. A kid's voice. "Sal? Is that the...the surprise?"

Sally's expression softened. "Yes." She turned her hand to allow the Light to shine more directly on Amy. "Nice and bright, like I said."

"How did..where? How? What..." Amy brushed her eyes with a thumb. She felt like she'd been underground for a year, and just now stepped into the sun. "What *is* it?"

"Silmaril," the deer murmured behind her. She hadn't seen him stand.

Sonic crossed his arms, tilting his head skeptically. "Silmaril. Okay. What does it do?"

Unguarded mirth came over the deer. "'Do?'" he laughed, "You may as well ask what the sky does!"

"But it did this," Sally said, as she transferred the jewel to her unmarked hand. The other hand and arm, she held out for Felagund's inspection.

As she stared, Amy began to lose the thread of the conversation. Silmaril. A beautiful name. A wonderful Light.

Antoine. "...zat writing on her arm?"

Amy had never seen the ocean in person, never been deep under any water. But she saw shimmers of the sun filtering down through green water. Like a memory...but not yet?

Felagund. His mirth fading as he spoke. Amy didn't register his words.

"Oath?" Sally asked.

Amy saw great plants...Seaweed?...swayed, fat orange fish darted, sleek fish with pointy, flattened noses...Sharks?...with leopard spots paddled with long tails. Currents cool and warm all over her. Tasted salt.

Tails, excited. "Quenya? What's..."

She felt...whole, again.

Felagund again, saddening–how could he be sad, around the Light? –as he and Tails looked over Sally's tattoo.

"Grim reading...an oath...beyond death. 'Be he friend, or foe, bright Vala, brood of Morgoth...'"

Amy wanted to cup the holy Light in her palms, like she would a firefly.

Sally, her voice trying to stay steady. "...my dreams. Every night...One...choked me."

The world's most wonderful firefly. It doesn't even need a jar. Her hands shook as they slowly reached for the jewel.

Sally firmly caught her with her free hand, face deadly serious. "No. Not now."

"'No?'" The negative quietly seared the girl, like a shooting star in the night sky. "Why not?"

And Sally looked just as seared, as she gently led Amy's hands away. "Remember the tape on Sonic's hands the other day? This was why. It burned him when he touched it."

Her stomach fell with her face. She couldn't touch it?

She should have been angry. She could have argued. But she couldn't be angry in the presence of this, this Light. Softly, she asked: "Burned him?"

Tails pulled off a glove. His digits showed faint bald marks, where fur had been singed down to the skin. "Me too."

Amy gasped, rushed to him, took his poor hand to check for worse damage. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Tails stammered, his face beginning to flush. "I-I-I..."

This wasn't a burning Light. Is it? Could it really hurt someone? Could it really hurt me? "Why isn't it burning Sal?"

Mercifully, Sally didn't put the Silmaril away. She exhaled, holding up the markings on her arm for Amy to see. "It warned me."