Chapter Twenty One

Battleground

When the day came for Captain Henri Jardin to write his memoirs, he would be the first pilot in history to include a chapter on dragons.

Making a second pass over the Steflesti Peak, Henri and the ragtag squadron of Dassault fighters and F-35s waited patiently for the eagles to set down their passengers. They’d purposefully kept away from the tower even though they could see the dragons flying in the clouds. He was certain that the beasts were aware of the squadron and the eagles but made no move to attack. Henri suspected that the architect of all this chaos, David Searan, or as the elves called him, Sauron, were keeping them at bay.

He and the squadron had left Orly Air Base after the Ministère de la Défense of France and the United Kingdom respectively, had agreed that they would work with the strangers who had come to the aid of their countries. Accepting the incredulity that their allies were elves was easier when one considered what had laid siege to London and Paris. The Americans were strangely compliant about the situation but had nonetheless honoured their NATO allegiances by lending them a number of CH-53E Stallions. The large cargo choppers were at the moment on the ground, allowing the elves and ground troops of both French and English forces to disembark.

The enemy was constructing fortifications and as the planes approached the outermost rampart, Henri could see the bestial troops scattering across the plain, hurrying to take cover in anticipation of a strafing attack. His stomach clenched as he saw the creatures for the first time. Until now, his encounter had been mostly with the dragons but he had not seen the orcs and Uruk-hai the elves had described until now. Even from a distance, they looked like a terrible parody of life, a form twisted to inspire fear and nothing else.

Circling above them were other flying creatures, not quite as fearsome as the dragons but the figures astride them clothed entirely in black was another matter entirely. To him, they looked like Death, with blacks cloak and unseen hooded faces. However, the elves had warned the squadron about these so called ‘wraiths’ and their effect of human beings. Henri would have found it hard to believe if not for the fact that these creatures had rendered the soldiers in Paris and apparently in London too, completely vulnerable to be slaughtered by their minions.

“All pilots, do not engage wraiths,” Henri spoke into his aviator headset as a course of action had been decided prior to this. “Repeat, do not engage the wraiths. Break off and climb. Leave them to the eagles.”

“Affirmative, breaking off...” came a cackled response through the cockpit. It was followed by the others.”

“Copy that....”

“Breaking off...”

Leading the charge, he banked away from the Wraiths and fired his engines. The burst of acceleration took the plane further away from the enemy and headed towards the clouds. In his peripheral vision, he saw Griminir and some of the eagles breaking away to follow the jets, while the others continued towards the Wraiths.

Stay on your guard, Grimnir warned as the magnificent bird flew alongside the fighter jet. The dragons will be coming.

“Don’t worry,” Henri said with a smile, “This time, we’re ready for them.”

*******

Would the battles ever end?

As Legolas saw the flying ships of man surging overhead towards the Nazgul in concert with the eagles, he wondered if peace only ever be achieved if it was won on a battlefield. A hundred thousand years and nothing had changed. Four Ages of Arda and it always ended with bloodshed. Morgoth’s seed of discord had chased them since the Ainur left the Timeless Halls. Even with his destruction, he had created his own successor who may well have exceeded even his grand ambitions.

Standing on the empty plain with the rest of the elves, Legolas cast his gaze towards the fortress in the distance, wondering if Fred, Bryan and Aaron had been delivered to Sauron already. There was no surprise in the coming attack, nothing that would give their side any advantage. The alliance of men and elves had been a hastily thrown together affair, unlike the enemy’s forces which Sauron had been carefully cultivating throughout his years in Arda, preparing for this moment. The battle for the air had begun between the eagles, man, the dragons and the Nazgul but on the ground it was still in abeyance.

The light was bleeding out of the sky and the curtain of night would be soon upon them.

Sauron had begun the process by creating a blanket of clouds to block out the sun but soon true darkness would be upon them and his army would be at their strongest. Legolas knew that even with the assistance of men, their numbers did not match the ferocity of Sauron’s forces. There hadn’t been enough time to gather more troops. With Fred’s warning that Sauron’s agents were preparing to unleash the Edain’s most fearsome weapons on the world, there was no time for anything but to make a final stand.

As he stared across the empty plain, he could see the ramparts they’d built, the new walls that enclosed the foot of the tower, to keep them from reaching their master. The Uruks and orcs were gathering behind the fortifications, armed with a mixture of modern and ancient weapons. Having seen the deadly efficiency of the former, Legolas knew that this battle would be unlike anything the elves had ever faced. The enemy knew they were outnumbered and with the dragons and Nazgul in attendance, the enemy were daring them to proceed.

Besides him, Ariel stood in readiness to fight and as he took in the sight of her, standing with her bow, he felt ashamed for how much he had wronged her by thinking her less than Melia had been. Now, he was proud of his wife who had never seen battle but was more than equal to the duty as she stood fearlessly with the rest of the elven army, waiting for the battle to begin. He prayed they would survive this day, so they could explore it together without the shadow of war.

“What are we waiting for?” Ariel whispered next to him.

“I am uncertain,” Legolas replied, “but Elrond’s discussion with the one who leads the Edain in this battle requires us to wait. It appears that more forces will be coming.”

“The one called Gideon,” Ariel nodded in acknowledgement. She remembered him from the aftermath of the attack on London City. When necessity had won over the Edain’s disbelief regarding the elves, Gideon had emerged as the voice of their army and parlayed with Elrond to decide upon a course of actions. It was Gideon who provided them with swift transport across the realm of France to the burning city of Paris. When it was realised that Sauron had rebuilt Bara-dur and had most likely returned to the remnants of his former kingdom, Gideon had led the forces of man in concert with the elves to defeat the dark lord once and for all.

“I believe so,” Legolas replied, catching a glimpse of Miranda and Eric who were being supplied with weapons from their own people, a short distance away from them.

“Prince, if this is the End of Days,” Ariel met his gaze. “What we do here may not give us a tomorrow. If Dagor Dagorath is upon us then the outcome of this battle has already been written. The Second Great Music was meant to be sung. Our fate is unknown and thus we may not survive this day because Ilúvatar has decided it to be so, not because of Sauron’s will.”

Legolas refused to believe that. Not after everything they had endured. “I do not believe that this is Dagor Dagorath, not the way Ilúvatar intended it to be. Melkor should have been here instead of Sauron. He should have blotted out the sun and moon but he is not here. I believe he is truly destroyed. I believe Sauron has taken his power and by doing so brought disruption to Ilúvatar’s design.”

“But how?” Ariel exclaimed. “Would not Eru have stopped him?”

Legolas didn’t answer her but he suspected Elrond may know the answer to that question and deep in his heart, he believed, he may know it too.

*****

A hundred thousand years after its destruction and the One Ring still bound them all.

It bound Sauron who made it. It bound Aragorn whose ancestor stole it. It bound Frodo who destroyed it and finally it bound Boromir who was destroyed by it. Perhaps the true legacy of the One Ring was to bind them all forever, their fates forever linked in a cycle of despair and violence. It seemed they were carrying out the final act of a drama they’d be playing out forever. No matter how much had passed, in the end, they’d always find themselves in the same place.

Facing each other on the eve of Armageddon.

Once Morgul had waved them away, the Uruk escort of six walked them into the dark tower that seemed to have been carved by darkest obsidian. The innards of the fortress was almost as ominous as the rest of it. The steps, the doorways, the winding staircases and long corridors seemed carved out of a solid piece of obsidian, whittled away until all that was left was Sauron’s fortress. It was stark and Spartan which was fitting for a dark lord on the cusp of destroying the world.

As Aaron, Bryan and Fred were taken up so many stairs, they’d lost count, he wondered where Eve was in this place. The realisation that this was where his child had been brought into the world filled him with a mild sense of horror and he was grateful that the infant would have no memory of this place when they took him away from here. Aaron still clung to the hope that he would get Eve out of this nightmare, that somehow, she and their son would return to Valinor, even if he didn’t make it.

Bryan struggled to keep up but Aaron saw what toll his injuries were taking on him. He was already suffering the gunshot wound and the Uruk had battered him enough to exacerbate the injury further. His face covered in bruises, Aaron watched his friend with concern and worried that at some point, Bryan’s injuries would be beyond his ability to recover. Still, he held Fred’s hand and ensured the child kept pace with them, even if his own limits were being tested.

“All this power,” Bryan snorted, “you think he’d work out how to build a lift.” He whispered and tossed Aaron a wink through a swollen eye.

“Take all the Darth Vader vibe out of the place if he did that I think,” Aaron joined in the joke, not caring if the Uruks didn’t like them indulging in some gallows humour.

“Quiet!” The one standing directly behind him barked on cue, shoving him ahead a few steps.

“Just take it easy,” Aaron tossed back a look. “Seriously, you gonna deprive us of conversation before you take us to our deaths?”

Fred said nothing but appeared amused by the conversation.

“Shut your maggot hole or else.....” the Uruk demanded.

“Or what?” Bryan snorted. “You’ll kill us? I’m betting we know your master a good deal better than you do and he’s not going to want us taken apart until he sees us first so until then, SOD OFF!”

The Uruk who had shoved Aaron raised his gun to fire but was halted by another of his comrades who growled, “Don’t do anything stupid. Let him make noise, the master will cut out his tongue later.”

“Nice,” Aaron complimented Bryan in a quieter tone.

“Thanks,” he shrugged, aware that a little bit of defiance was not going to make much difference but at least it made him feel better.

As they continued to climb, Aaron saw just how high they were through the windows which were little more than arrow loops if he understood the vernacular appropriately. They were without glass since it appeared that Sauron hadn’t gotten around to furnishings. Nevertheless, they were given a clear view of battle that was brewing outside the fortress walls. Sauron’s forces were preparing for a fight and their fortifications implied that they soon expected to have visitors.

“Can you hear that?” Bryan whispered at Aaron.

“What?” Aaron stared at him and then realised through the whistling winds of this height, there was the rumble of something mechanical that was growing in intensity. Since returning to Arda, Aaron had become familiar with the sound again. Planes.

Indeed a second later, he saw a dozen planes heading towards the castle. The Nazgul were in the air with their winged beasts and Aaron thought that the planes might take a shot at them but then inexplicably, the squadron broke off short of reaching the wraiths and began climbing. Only was they started ascending, did Aaron noticed the eagles that accompanied them and the ones that were moving towards the Nazgul to attack.

“KEEP MOVING!” One of the Uruk, probably the same one from earlier, snapped again and shoved Aaron forward once more.

He tripped against the stairs, landing heavily on his hands before cursing under his breath, “asshole.”

Finally, the stairs emptied into the tower turret and a number of short steps led to a parapet that was the highest point in the tower. Like the rest of the fortress, it was empty save for the steps that led out of it. There were no windows but then there was no reason for one because the top of the steps would give anyone a panoramic view of the outside. The wind was blowing harder and the whistling they’d heard was gale force in its intensity.

As the Uruks ushered them towards the steps, Fred clutched Bryan’s hand tighter as she looked at him. “I love you Bryan,” she whispered. Her brown eyes moist with tears.

“I love you Fred,” Bryan stared down at her understanding her timing. It may be the last chance they had to say these things to each other. “Whatever happens up there, I’ll always love you. I promise you I’d take care of you so you won’t be alone. Miranda and Frank are already mad for you. They’ll do right by you.”

Fred nodded and the cool, aloof mask she’d been melted away. All that remained was the child, trying to be brave, trying not to cry even if her lips quivering. In the same way she’d known her time with her parents were finite, Fred had always known that she would lose Bryan and Tory. Even though the voice inside her head soothed her with assurances that everything would work out, she knew this fact to be incontrovertible, that there was no changing it.

Aaron wanted to speak but he didn’t know what to say nor did he feel he should. Bryan didn’t expect to survive this and perhaps Aaron had always known that. They’d reach a kind of understanding in the caves that this was it. In truth, Aaron didn’t think he himself would live to see tomorrow but he counted on Fred being the instrument in which at least Eve and his son would escape.

Beyond that, nothing else mattered.

*******

“We need to break through those defences if we’re going to take that fortress,” Lieutenant Colonel Gideon Bowman said to Elrond as they stood on the other side of the plain from Sauron’s fortress. “They can see us coming the moment we advance.”

“Agreed,” Elrond nodded as he and his human counterpart observed the ramparts and battlements constructed by the enemy. “The field is too open and there are two few of us to charge, at least without horses.”

Gideon cracked a smile despite the situation. He had to remember that he was speaking to someone who hadn’t fought a battle since ancient times and still carrying bows and swords. “We haven’t used horses since the turn of the last century and with guns, its not much use. The horses and the men get cut down rather quickly.”

The Colonel was still wrapping his mind around the fact that was part commander of an attack force that was composed of British Infantry, Special Forces, the French Armée de Terre and elves. Not to mention eagles. When they’d forged this alliance in London, it felt like the unlikeliest thing in the world, bordering on ludicrous really. However, Gideon and the Home Office were quick to recognise the fact that they were ill equipped to face an enemy so ancient it was beyond them to combat it. The timely arrival of the elves had not only saved many lives but also offer some kind explanation to what was happening. Even if it seemed fantastic, the evidence of their own eyes was proof enough of the elves warnings.

“Then what do you suggest?” Elrond asked frowning. The terrain did not lend itself to a covert approach of the fortress and Sauron had ensured that he was prepared for a fight. “The hour grows late and when the sun sets they will be the ones to attack. It is better if we attacked at a time of our own choosing.”

The elf lord made sound decisions and Gideon was quick to agree with him on that point. “We will be ready to move in fifteen minutes,” Gideon answered. He had no doubt that Elrond was right about when the enemy would attack. During their journey across Europe, they’d been at their worst in the twilight. He saw no reason to indicate it would be any different here. “We have the equivalent of a cavalry on the way. It isn’t as large a force as I like but it will definitely give us an edge when we try and cross the plain. However, if you don’t mind, my men should move in first. The ones you call the Uruk are armed with modern weapons and we’re accustomed to that kind of warfare.”

“Perhaps,” Elrond replied, “however, the moment you confront Sauron’s forces, the Nazgul will move to engaged you. They know that men are vulnerable to their Black Breath. They will use it to place your men into dark sleep, if not worse. You know its effects.”

Gideon did. He’d seen what had happened to the ground troops that had tried to confront the monstrous army when it pillaged its way across England and then to Paris. Soldiers had simply collapsed where they stood, unable to fight. The symptoms ranged from unconsciousness to hallucinations and then death. It was part of the reason why their defences had been so quickly overcome and modern medicine had no idea how to combat it.

“I do,” Gideon answered, not about to refute the fact. “That is why we will move in first and you and your elves will cover our rear guard. We are not equipped to fight them. You are. When those Dementor bastards come after us, you need to protect us from them.”

“That sounds like a reasonable request,” Elrond replied, “I think I have an idea of how we can do that.”

*****

She never thought she’d miss not having Frank, Legolas or even Bryan at her side as she prepared to go into a fight.

After everything they’d been through, their fellowship had given her a sense of strength and even though she knew she’d manage, Miranda missed them. Miranda knew the division was necessary; Frank needed to keep Sam, Pip and Lori safe by staying behind and Miranda prayed that Bryan and Aaron’s gambit to surrender to Saeran worked. Meanwhile, Legolas and the twins had their own parts to play in the coming battle which left Eric at Miranda’s side.

Even though they were not biologically siblings, she’d felt a strange kinship with the Australian journalist from the first. It took the twins to explain that in the days of Rohan, Eric had been Eomer, King of the Mark and she was his sister. Since arriving at Valinor, that relationship had deepened and now it felt as if they were really brother and sister, even though they both families of their own. She knew that his response to the grief of Jason Merrick’s death was anger and that he still hurt from that loss. She wished she could soothe his grief as easily as she soothed her children’s but knew that the friendship between the two men had been too deep for anything but time to heal.

“You ready for this?” She asked him.

They had taken up position with the rest of the soldiers that were preparing to move on the enemy’s fortifications. Dressed in the same body armour provided to British soldiers, she and Eric had been outfitted by the supplier after they’d joined Elrond. Lt. Colonel Gideon had been happy to have the help, especially after learning that she was former MI6 and she’d vouched for Eric’s abilities in a combat zone to ensure that he wasn’t excluded from the fight ahead. After Jason’s loss, Miranda didn’t think Eric would tolerate being forced to sit out their final confrontation with Saeran and his forces.

“I’m fine,” he replied, glancing at her briefly before he resumed the process of checking his SA80 assault rifle for the umpteenth time. The sergeant who had provided him with the weapon had given him quick instruction in its use and Eric wanted to make sure that he knew how to handle it correctly when the time came. The last thing he wanted was to find out he had the safety on in the middle of a warzone.

His clipped tone gave away the rage that was simmering beneath the seemingly calm facade he was displaying for her benefit and that of those around him. She knew that he wanted revenge for Jason, wanted to return some of the hurt that Saeran had caused, even if he could strike directly at the dark lord himself. It was enough to take his anger out on those who served him.

“Stay close to me,” she replied advised, “we’re outnumbered and possibly outgunned. Even with everyone working together, its going to get ugly.”

“I will,” Eric nodded, grasping the odds they faced already. “I’ll keep my head down if things gets to buggered up.”

Miranda reached for his shoulder and squeezed gently, wanting to reach through the mask of anger to talk to the man. “Eric, I’m so sorry about Jason.” She said softly. “With everything that we’ve been through since England, I know we haven’t talk much about him but I want you to know that Frank and I will never forget what he did. He saved my babies lives and that’s something I can never thank him enough for. They’ll never forget what he did for them. No one will.”

Eric blinked slowly and met her gaze and this time, his intense expression was softer. “This is the first war zone I’ll be going into without him. He was always my lucky charm. Dumb Kiwi kept me out of trouble, saved me from myself. I feel a part of me is missing going into this fight, that he would have wanted to be right there next to me, making sure I didn’t do anything stupid.”

“You don’t have to worry,” Miranda sat patting him on the shoulder. “I won’t let you do anything stupid and even if he’s not here in the flesh, Jason’s still keeping an eye out on you.”

“Bugger that,” Eric shrugged and then cracked a smile. “if he’s lucky, he’s being reincarnated as we speak into Orlando Bloom and Natalie Portman’s love child.”

Miranda was chuckling out loud when she heard the rumbling of engines that sounded nothing like jeeps. The dull drone was soon eclipsed by excited voices and saw that soldiers and elves were pointing at something coming down the hills form the tree line. Miranda could feel the ground reverberating beneath her feet and both she and Eric exchanged a puzzled glance before joining the crowd that had gone to investigate.

It didn’t take more than a few steps forward to see what everyone was talking. Taking in the sight, Eric turned to Miranda with a smile. “I reckon they didn’t have those in Middle Earth.”

******

The trio of Challenger battle tanks crossed the barren plain, leaving a cloud of dust behind each as they rumbled forward.

They had been flown to the battleground on C5 planes out of Fairfield Base in England and dropped off well beyond the sight of the fortress to ensure no attack from the dragons or the Nazgul. Once on the ground, the tanks made a rapid cross count journey across the mountains to join the forces awaiting them. Upon their arrival, a short meeting was conducted to outline the final plan of attack before the tanks were on their way again. This time on route to begin the offensive against the enemy.

To those unfamiliar with them, the tanks appeared to be clumsy, lumbering vehicles that did little to inspire fear as they approached. The single barrel of the cannon perched on top the vehicle swivelled one way or another as if trying to seek out its prey with only one. While it moved somewhat faster than a man on foot, there was not much capacity inside its shell to hold more than a handful of men or elves. It was only when the gun turret took aim at the ramparts did suspicion of its detractors finally turn into the understanding.

The guns fire on all three at almost the same time.

Ejecting their payload in an explosion of deafening sound, the first shell struck its target and obliterated the one of ramparts, sending wood and stone in all directions. Orcs and uruks standing in proximity became part of the fallout, their bodies torn apart by the explosive force. Those weren’t killed immediately found themselves assaulted by raining debris that included pieces of the battlements as well bodies of their fallen comrades. They scattered in all directions as the guns fired again, taking apart another section of wall.

As the tanks started to fire, the trucks that had been used to transport the soldiers to these lands immediately rushed across the landscape, taking advantage of the distraction provided by the tanks. A dozen trucks raced across the parched terrain, each with a 50 calibre gun mounted on the front cabin. Ensuring the way was clear for the approach, the soldier manning the weapon open fired, sending a murderous hail of artillery at the enemy line and limiting their ability to fire.

The Uruks, once recovered from the initial attack, were now returning fire. They were taking refuge inside the fighting holes that they had dug as part of the fortification. Climbing into them, the ground provide cover against enemy gunfire and allowed the Uruks to return in kind. With the shedding of first blood, the Uruks went on the offensive, unleashing an equally devastating barrage at the approaching vehicles. Bullets ricocheted off the thick metal hull of the tanks and across the front of the trucks.

“We’re getting through,” Eric declared as he sat next to Miranda. Even though he couldn’t see what was happening in front of them, the fact that the truck they were in hadn’t stopped was a good sign that they were covering a lot of ground.

“I think we took them by surprise but our advantage isn’t going to last for long. Even if we reach their line, there’s a lot of them waiting for us.” Miranda stated grimly through her concern was not on the orcs and Uruks but rather on something worse. There was no sign of the dragons because they were busily engaging the fighters and a contingent of eagles. However, it wasn’t the dragons she feared.

When she heard that ear piercing scream, the one that made her blood turn cold in her veins, she knew that they soon be facing an enemy worse than Orcs or Uruks. The Nazgul were coming.

*******

As the trucks and tanks raced towards the fortress, the Nazgul led by Morgul, flew towards the convoy.

Instead of nine, they were seven. With Khamul and Dwaw on the other side of the world ensuring the most important part of their masters’ plan was carried out, the Nazgul had been absent for the initial strike by the alliance of men and elves. Above the clouds, another battle was already in motion as the cursed flying craft of men, with help from the Great Eagles were facing the dragons. The Nazgul had been aiding this confrontation until they realised that an attack on the ground was underway. Breaking off from the fighting in clouds, Morgul told himself that the dragons would be victorious without the aid of the Nazgul and if they weren’t, Sauron had enough power to destroy their enemies single-handedly.

For now, Morgul intended to smash the offensive of the Alliance into a thousand pieces. Men were weak and the elves were too few to be able to successfully storm the fortress. Now that he and the other Nazgul were intervening directly, he had every confidence that Sauron's forces would win the day. Men had already proven time and time and again, completely vulnerable to Nazgul's black breath and with each attempt to engage their forces since Sauron had returned to Arda, they had been struck down easily, allowing the orcs and spiders to finish them off. It would be no different here.

His only regret lay in the fact that he had no time to single out the Shield Bitch amongst the armies of men. He was convinced she was apart of this attack force. Her fealty to the elves would ensure that she fought at their side. It did not matter, Morgul told himself. By the day's end, he would drag her carcass from among the dead for special treatment. If she was alive, then it would be even better. It was a pity that he did not have time to seek out her children and the reincarnation of Denethor's weaker son. Morgul owed him a similarly agonising death too.

Astride Ghash, he directed Adunaphel and Ren towards the tanks, while the rest of their number flew towards the trucks that were racing towards the fortress’ battlements. He recognised the tactic and realised that the purpose of the tanks was to scatter the front line defences so that the trucks, presumably filled with troops, could reach the fortifications without being cut down if they had attempted a direct approach. However, the numbers were on the side of Sauron's army. He had already ordered Indur to rally the wargs and spiders to come to come down from hills. They would approach the Alliance from the rear and when the orcs and Uruks retaliated, they would be able to outflank their enemy and crush in a ring of steel and teeth.

His mount was almost upon a truck when suddenly, Ghash bucked hard, almost unseating him. Morgul gripped the reins tighter and dug his heels into the creature's flank. The winged beast's flight spiralled out of control and Ghash reared his saurian and let out a bellow of pain. Once Morgul had recovered his wits, he quickly examine the creature to see what had struck his trusted companion and immediately saw the cause.

Protruding from Ghash's dark grey flesh was an arrow of elvish design. An arrow delivered by the bow of the Galadhrim.

*****

Kneeling on one knee on the back of a great eagle, one whose name was Telrir, Legolas Greenleaf took aim at the fell beast commanded by Morgul. As Elrond had predicted, the offensive of their Edain allies had compelled the immediate return of the Nazgul who undoubtedly intended to use their dreaded Black Breath. Thus, Elrond had summoned four of the eagles to return from their battle with the dragons so that the elves could engage the Nazgul while the Edain smashed through Sauron's defences.

Next to him, Ariel remained poised with her own bow, preparing for the attack she knew would come. Once the Nazgul were aware of what they were about, they would no doubt respond in kind. Elven balance had served them both well, allowing them to retain their footing while Telrir borne them both into the battle. Ariel raised her eyes to the surrounding sky and saw the other eagles and elves engaging the Nazgul in similar fashion. However, even with four, they were outnumbered and she knew that one of Morgul's brothers would soon come to his aid.

Legolas shot another arrow into Ghash and it struck close to the same place as the first, causing the creature to scream in a fresh about of agony. However, this time, the beast seemed to recover faster and Morgul turned his hooded head at Legolas, fully cognisant of where the attack had come. The Nazgul yanked back the reins of his mount sharply, causing the creature to turn about in mid air and head directly at them. Firing two arrows at once, this time, not at the beast but at Morgul, Legolas knew that while he may not be able to kill the Witch King, he would certainly hurt him.

Morgul reacted swiftly, drawing his blade and deflecting one arrow while moving out of the way in time to avoid being struck by the other. The skill of the Greenleaf was known, particularly in the Third Age during the War of the Ring and Morgul knew that he had to be dealt with. Fortunately, while the eagles carried the elves on their backs, their manoeuvrability was limited and that gave Morgul room to retaliate. Flying straight into the air, Ghash passed by the eagle and positioned itself above it.

Hold on, House of Thranduil, he means to tear you off my back, Telerir warned.

Indeed, even as Telrir made the warning, he saw Morgul's beast soar past them until both were looking down at Ariel and himself.

"Ariel!" He shouted at her over the rush wind. "Hold on tight!"

"What about you?" She demanded, seeing that he was making no such attempt himself.

He didn't answer, instead he armed his bow once more and shot more arrows at the approaching beast. The beast's flapping wings and the wind did much to disrupt his aim but now Morgul was firing arrows of his own and Legolas knew the harm it would cause Telrir if they reached their mark. Drawing his own sword, he ensured that none reached the eagle but the action allowed Ghash to get close enough to put him within reach of its sharp talons. The first swipe cut through his tunic, spilling blood that seemed to send the beast into a frenzy as its attempts to claw at him became frenzied.

Ariel's eyes widened in horror at Legolas staggering back, his chest stained with blood. Without thinking, she was on the move, unsheathing the sword and flinging it with aim deadly and true. The blade flew through the air and sliced through Ghash's skull, stopping only when hilt met bone. The creature convulsed once, its wings flapping erratically like a banner in a strong wind before it went limp and tumbled away.

Morgul's scream of outrage at the death of his beloved pet followed it as they both fell to the earth. Unfortunately, another wraith flew to brother’s aid and caught Morgul before he could join Ghash on the ground.

Ariel hurried to Legolas who had dropped to his knees while he examined the wound across his chest. Judging by the manner in which he regarded it, she suspected that he was not badly injured. Still, seeing him hurt was more than she could stand. For the first time, she understood why he had been so reluctant to see her out in the world, the fear of what harm could come to her would have been more than he could bear after losing Melia in the Fourth Age.

"Prince! Are you alright? You're hurt..." She exclaimed with dismay as she saw the bloody wound beneath the torn fabric.

"I will heal," he assured her and knew that this respite was brief. The Nazgul were far from done. "That was a quite a throw," he complimented, admiring the marksmanship that ended Morgul's mount.

Recovering her composure, she feigned supreme confidence, "Of course, I am a better shot that you."

"Really," he grinned and pulled her close for a quick kiss full of heat and passion. "You'll have to show me."

Suddenly, Telrir's voice spoke in their heads. Forgive the interruption but we do have Nazgul to kill..

*******

When she glimpsed the Nazgul overhead, Miranda really thought that Morgul would attempt to satisfy his need for vengeance by coming after her. Fortunately, it appeared that something else had distracted him because his flying...whatever it was...had been hit and the creature had pulled away from the convoy. She spent the rest of the truck’s race to the battlements watching the air battle taking place as the eagles engaged the Nazgul, ensuring the wraiths’ attention was away from the humans. She’d heard what had happened each time armed troops had been confronted by them in London and Europe and guessed that this was their intent when the tanks had started firing.

“Miranda!” Eric called out as he spied the peephole in the back of the truck to see the rapid approach of the line. He walked unsteadily back to her, trying to avoid losing his footing as the back of the truck shook around him as it raced forward. “We’re almost there!”

Miranda nodded and saw the other soldiers getting to their feet and moving to the open back of the truck. As soon as the vehicles stopped, they’d have to get out before they were pinned down by the numbers of the Uruks and orcs. Once they had truly engaged the force guarding the fortress, the other troops that included men and elves could advance to give them reinforcements.

“Remember, stay close,” she ordered again.

This time, Eric took the warning with more than the obligatory nod from a brother trying not to worry his sister. He’d seen Miranda fight and knew she was bloody fearsome in fight or when she set her mind to killing something. Miranda had proved she knew her business and he wasn’t about to question her about it now.

“No worries there,” he assured.

The tanks continued to fire and even though Eric and Miranda didn’t see the destruction first hand, they heard the explosions that followed and continued to send the enemy into disarray. When they reached the first rampart, orcs and Uruks were swarming behind them as the truck delved deep behind their lines. The creatures’ reaction was immediate with the eruption of gunfire behind them. There was a loud thud overhead and the rat-tat-tat rhythm of the machine gun mounted on the top of the truck came to an abrupt halt. A body fell off and over the side of their vehicle and Miranda’s stomach hollowed when she saw the soldier manning the gun left behind in the dirt when he had landed dead.

The soldiers with them start returning fire, emptying entire magazines at the enemy until the truck finally came to a crash stop, probably running into something. Miranda couldn’t see from where she was. It didn’t matter, it was time to get out there. She jumped out with Eric in her line of sight onto the ground and saw that the tanks had done significant damage to the ramparts and were now trying its hand at destroying the fortress. She didn’t think they had that kind of firepower because the tower constructed by Saeran was even more overwhelming now that one was staring at the foot of it. She was sure that it stood taller than Burj Khalifa in Dubai.

In any case, there was no time to ponder the situation because almost immediately, she was avoiding gunfire as the Uruks closed in on them. The soldiers with them had laid down suppressing fire, allowing her and Eric to get out of the truck and run for cover. The truck had come to a stop near the fortress wall, skidding to a diagonal stop that allowed its passengers some measure of shelter when they emerged.

“Come on,” she urged Eric when she hit the gravel and started skirting the edge of the truck to use the cover of the fortress wall to reach a defensible position. Bullets chased them all the way there and Miranda saw other soldiers doing the same. Some took refuge behind the trucks, others sought cover near the tanks and some soldiers claimed some of the ramparts for their own. The sound of gunfire was now all consuming. Grenades were being lobbed, while the tanks continued their assault against the fortress which little success. It was simply too big.

Eric joined her against the side of the truck near the driver’s door. He climbed up the step and peered into the passenger cabin and saw the driver slumped over the wheel. He’d gotten them through but the riddled windscreen revealed what it had cost him to do that. There was no time to mourn the man or honour his sacrifice because bullets were coming through the side window and he felt Miranda tugging down at his belt.

“What part of keep your head down did you not get!” She snapped before moving to the edge of the truck, keeping her head lower as she peered past the snub nose front of the vehicle and started firing her SA80 at a cluster of Uruks who had also taken up position near a battlement of wood and sandbags to assault a group of infantry troops pinned near a tank. As soon as she pulled the trigger, they turn their guns on her and she stepped back hastily, bumping into Eric as she did so.

“What part of keep your head down did you NOT get?” Eric demanded as he tugged her down to avoid taking a head shot.

“They needed cover!” Miranda exclaimed and suddenly the shooting in their direction stopped and the Uruks seemed to turn their attention elsewhere.

“Is it me or did they suddenly just forget us?” Eric asked.

Miranda did not speak, she was staring at him shoulder, wide eyed. He turned around just in time to see a huge behemoth that stood at least twelve feet high swing a massive arm and sent the truck tumbling. Like a child’s toy, the truck rolled over thrice before it came to a stop on it side.

Eric started firing but the damn thing was wearing some kind of cast iron body armour that hung over its shoulders with chain links. Wearing a Greek type helmet that protected its ugly face, it was fully prepared for a fight with bullets. The bullets ricocheted off the armour, impacting on the ground and fortress wall to no ill effect.

“What the hell is that?” Eric managed to gasp as he grabbed Miranda’s hand and prepared to run, convinced he was not about to stay and fight a giant.

“Troll,” Miranda explained and held her ground.

“Trolls?” Eric exclaimed, “there are bloody trolls now? Aren’t they supposed to hide behind bridges or something!” Panic was making him babble.

“Don’t get unhinged on me now!” She declared as the thing advanced on them even as they were pulling back quickly, trying to avoid the gunfire around them. “Shoot the legs!” She ordered and continued to retreat backwards, putting more distance between herself and the beast.

Eric nodded and fired as the tree stump the thing called legs. The bullets that struck the troll seemed more annoyances than injuries and it uttered a growl before lifting up what appeared to be a hammer. Bringing it down on both of them, Eric and Miranda jumped out of its path before it impacted on the ground so hard, they felt the tremor through the sols of their feet. The troll moved with surprising speed and thundered towards Miranda in particular, swinging the hammer once more, preparing to pulverise her bones into dust.

A flash of insight told Eric that this was because of that Nazgul bastard Morgul. He probably told these bastards that he’d buy them a beer or something if they could take out Miranda.

“Hey ugly!” Eric fired at the creature’s back and even though he did nothing to hurt it.

In fact, the bullets bounced off the armour and made him duck because he almost got hit by a stray shot. Worse than that, he found himself noticed by a group of orc hoplites who were soon chucking spears and blades at him. Eric dove behind the barrier formation of sandbags and wood to avoid being hit. Fortunately, it wasn’t occupied and he was able to return fire while at the same time, search frantically for where Miranda might have got to.

Miranda had lost sight of Eric but she had more immediately problems at present.

The troll seemed intent on reaching her and Miranda realised that it was most likely because Morgul had put out some kind of a death warrant on her. The creature was smashing a path to her as it chased her across battle field already rife with bullets, explosions and arrows. Firing at its legs and arms, each time she dared to turn around and face it, the trolls was now bleeding form a dozen wounds but its hide was so thick, she suspected the damage was only superficial.

It was remarkably fast and she wished for the first time, she had a sword or arrows because that might actually have more effect on the thing. It managed to corner her and Miranda made a do or die decision by diving in between its legs and scrambling to her feet behind it. She saw one of the dead orcs near her and raced over to steal the cruel looking spear it apparently never had the chance to throw. She didn’t know what kind of a shot she would be but at this point, Miranda was nearing panic and that was never a good thing to be.

She flung the spear and this time, the weapon managed to pierce the flesh of the creature in the gaps between its armour. The spear dug deep and the troll bellowed in fury, swinging around with the weapon still embedded between its shoulder blades. One hand dangled uselessly but the other had more than enough furry and indignation to throw the giant hammer at her. Miranda jumped out of her way and landed on her hands and knees. Scrambling to get up, she suddenly felt a great weight slam down her back so hard, it forced a cry of pain out of her.

“You can’t run now, can you pretty? I’m going to peel the skin off you...”

Miranda was helpless, she was pinned down like a fly on a board. The force holding her down was beyond her ability to fight.

“Get off my wife!” A new voice suddenly spoke and Miranda’s eyes widened in disbelief. She looked up and saw Frank. Frank was standing there and he was holding a weapon she didn’t recognise. It was neither elvish or human.

“FRANK!” Miranda cried out as the troll pressed down in spite.

Frank gave the creature no other warning then that and fired the weapon. Instead of bullets, gleaming bolts of polished metal flew through the air in rapid session. Each one penetrated the troll’s armour with ease, burying themselves to the hilt. The troll stopped crying out after the third spike impaled him and he staggered backwards, taking the weight off Miranda who quickly crawled away from it on her hands and knees. By the time, Frank exhausted his round of spikes, the troll had tumbled backwards, landing on the ground with a heavy thud.

Miranda stumbled to her feet, hurrying to her husband whom she met with a big hug of gratitude. “Frank! How did you get here? Where are the boys? Where did you get that weapon?” She demanded, uncertain which question she wanted answered first.

Frank kissed his wife, grateful that he’d reached her in time. When he’d arrived on the field of battle, he’d searched her out, certain she would be in the thick of things. However, he had no idea how dire her situation would be. “The boys are fine, they’re safe and so is Lori. When we were waiting in the caves, we ran into some new friends.”

“New friends?” Miranda asked and saw Frank gesturing to the surrounding area. In the distance, just shy of the first ramparts, the terrain had been broken by the emergence of metal objects that she could only describe as some type of subterranean vehicle if the giant drills mounted at the front were any indication. There were so many of them, she could hardly count and they were over flowing with short, spirited men who were joining the battle much to the surprise of the human soldiers and laying waste to the enemy’s forces.

“Are those...” Miranda’s mind grappled with what she were seeing.

“Yes,” Frank nodded as he saw Barra gleefully throwing himself into a mess of orcs, hacking away at them with short swords. “The dwarves are here.”

*******

It seemed that everything they had been going through since leaving Valinor had been building up to this moment.

The moment when they’d find themselves face to face with David Saeran aka Sauron former lord of Mordor. After the Uruks ushered them up the short of steps , they stepped unto a windy parapet that was little more than a circular floor without railings of any kind that appeared to be the highest point in the fortress. The wind was lashing at them from this height and all distant sounds were being drowned out by gale. Aaron’s hair immediately plastered itself against his face as he scanned the platform, hoping against hope that Eve was here. Unfortunately, it was only David Saeran, aka Sauron, Lord of Mordor that was in attendance.

He stood with his hands on his back, facing the panoramic view the parapet offered, seemingly unaware that they were there. Until he spoke of course.

“I thought you’d never get here,” Saeran spoke and turned around to face them with a satisfied smile across his face.

Seeing him face to face, ignited the fury and the outrage that Aaron had been keeping in check because of his desperation to reach Eve. After what happened to Tory, he’d been living in fear that when he finally reached his wife, she would be dead too. He didn’t want to find her as Bryan found her. Pale and cold, on the sand. Unfortunately, Fred had revealed to him that Saeran had not been that kind to Eve during her imprisonment.

With stolen powers, Saeran had subjected Eve to the worst kind of torture, reaching into her womb to manipulate the baby inside her into growing at an unnatural rate. What should have taken months had instead taken days and he couldn’t even begin to imagine what was in her mind as her body changed at the whim of a dark lord’s desire. No doubt the bastard would have used the baby as a means to break Eve. The thought of her wonderfully brave and spirited will being broken into a thousand pieces made Aaron want to kill Saeran for just that alone.

“Where’s Eve and my son, you fucking maniac?” Aaron growled and lunged forward. He never wanted to kill anything as much as he did that evil son of a bitch.

Not thinking about the consequences at hurtling himself at such a completely overwhelming enemy, Aaron had taken no more than a step when suddenly he lost all control of his limbs. It was like the life was drained out of them and he hit the floor hard, his knees first and then the rest of him. The cold, obsidian tiles cracked against his jaw and he was laid out, flat against the floor. Behind him the Uruks who had made an attempt to grab him when he had gone after their master, retreated into the background again.

“DOC!” Bryan shouted when he saw Aaron go down and supposed he should have expected the doctor to do something stupid. The man had been holding himself back all the way from Valinor and it was only a matter of time that all the frustration vented itself. Bryan took a step forward when he felt Uruk hands clamp on his shoulder, ensuring he was going nowhere.

Fred however, reacted by squeezing his hand. He gazed down at the little girl and she gave him a smile of comfort, trying to reassure him that everything would be alright. Bryan wished he could believe her.

“Now, now,” Saeran approached Aaron on the floor and dropped to his haunches, hovering his mouth above Aaron’s ear, he taunted, “is that anyway for a new father to behave? What will your son think? He’s a quite a little boy, I haven’t decided what I’m going to name him yet. Maybe his mother and I will choose a name together.” He sniggered in delight.

“You fucking bastard!” Aaron spat, helpless and impotent in the face of the man’s cruelty.

With an even more malicious tone, Saeran replied, “Not yet but I intend to be.”

Aaron let out a furious cry of anguish that resembled the wounded howl of animal. “I will kill you, you bastard,” he warned, his voice breaking with empty resignation. “If you touch them I will kill you!”

“Why don’t you just kill us?” Bryan demanded, wanting to draw Saeran’s attention away from tormenting Aaron. Every word that Saeran spoke made it clearer and clearer what he need to do and what doubt there had been his mind before now, was finally washed away. “You’ve got your war, you’ve got your beasties fighting for you. You’ve got Eve and the baby, you’ve taken your revenge on me already, why prolong this? Are you that pathetic, you need audience?”

Saeran shot him a look of ice and immediately stood up, his eyes narrowing as he fixed his intense gaze on Bryan.

“So nice to see you Bryan,” Saeran said coolly. “Did you get my message from the lovely Miranda? How does the lady keep? Is she here too? Morgul will be delighted. He asked even though he knew the answer to that question already.

The bastard was trying to bait him, Bryan recognised the tactic and refused to let himself been drawn into the same trap that Saeran had caught Aaron. He refused to let the dark lord get the satisfaction of seeing his pain as obviously as he’d relished seeing in Aaron.

“So you killed Tory. You hurt a defenceless woman who was no threat to you whatsoever except her bad luck of loving me. You want to hurt me, you’ve done that. Why don’t you just kill me, get it over and done with? You’ve taken everything I care about from this world. Why play these childish games?”

“Not everything,” Saeran returned coldly. “You still have your brother and his family. You still have her,” he gloated turning his gaze to Fred. “You forget Bryan, I can tell what’s left that gives you hope, I can see inside your soul.”

“As I can see into yours Mairon,” Fred spoke finally.

For the first time, Bryan saw Saeran’s supremely confident mask, waver.

The dark lord forgot the other two prisoners and lowered his gaze to the young face staring at him. He knew that this child was the reincarnation of Frodo Baggins, the little hobbit that against all odds had destroyed him in the Third Age. However as he studied her now, he realised that something was wrong. The others were like an open book to him. Their emotions poured out of them like an overflowing river. He could read all of it. But this girl, this girl he couldn’t read. In fact, where she was standing, he was registering emptiness, almost as if she didn’t exist at all. Like a null space in the middle of his consciousness.

“Who are you?” He questioned, convinced she wasn’t Fred. Not the Frederica Bailey that he’d last encountered.

“How far you have fallen Mairon,” the girl declared.

Her words felt like lashes and he took a step back from her. He was certain he’d trapped all of the Valar behind the curtain of dimensions. Could he have missed one? Could one of them have escaped? Could all of them? Manwë perhaps?

“Don’t call me that. That is not my name,” Saeran bite back, his voice losing some of its earlier bluster.

His distraction released Aaron from whatever binding spell had gripped the doctor. Aaron got to his feet and kerbed his desire to attack Saeran because it appeared that Fred was finally making her move. At least he thought it was Fred. He retreated next to Bryan and both men exchanged glances at what was happening before returning their focus on the confrontation unfolding before them.

“It is your true name,” the girl continued to speak. “Melkor’s corruption made you forget it. You were called Mairon the Admirable. Remember?”

“I don’t need to remember!” Saeran hissed but he did remember. He remembered everything. How it felt be so young and naive, to think that the world could shaped on good intentions and hope. How quickly he had learned that to fix the discord planted by Melkor in the Great Music, an iron hand was needed and the will to do what no one else would do.

“Of all of the Ainur, you were the one who surprised the most,” Fred continued to speak. “Melkor was prideful even in the Timeless Halls but you were not. You were so filled with ideas even then. Your chord was bold and distinct, so full of promise and yet still in harmony with the others. This world that was born, part of that was you, don’t you know? You’ve spent your entire existence trying to create order so that those ideas could be realised. You wanted to make Ea great, not for yourself but because you appreciated order and you could see potential. I am sorry that no one stop Melkor from deceiving you.”

“WHO ARE YOU!” Saeran shouted at Fred who was unfazed by the action, treating the dark lord as if he were a child throwing a tantrum. “I was no one’s puppet. I always knew what had to be done! I was strong enough to make it happen, I wasn’t slave to all the rules that the others were. Melkor never had to manipulate me into doing anything! I chose my own fate.”

“Indeed you have, you have changed Dagor Dagorath. You usurped Melkor. No one expected that. You destroyed him and removed his chord from the music that is to come. Everything has changed and its all because of you.”

Saeran let out a heavy sigh and it seemed to Bryan and Aaron that at last, he understood who it was he was facing. He maintained his pride, raised his chin in defiance and spoke in an almost sedate voice. “You abandoned us. You unleashed us upon Ea and then chose to act only at your convenience. All of us were born of your thoughts, you had the ultimate design for the theme you wished us to sing. Why didn’t you fix Melkor’s mess? You’ve done nothing and you’ve let his folly fester until all of creation has become tainted. You’ve let your creations destroy this planet. Children of Ilúvatar indeed. You think I will ruin Arda? I am cleansing it, riding it of man so that we can start again, with something a little less destructive.”

“Oh my God,” Aaron whispered, understanding at last. “You’re Eru Ilúvatar.”

And it didn’t surprise Bryan, not at all. Somehow, he knew. He’d always known.

“That has never been your choice to make Mairon,” Fred continue to speak. “One hundred thousand years ago, I separated Aman and Arda, allowing the elves to live apart from men so both could find their own way. I commanded Aule to put the dwarves to sleep for the same reason. I wanted to see what would come about, if the discord in the Great Music could be healed without interference from the Valar or Maia.”

“And instead, they’ve brought Arda to the brink of annihilation.” Saeran spat. “Your style of parenting leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Then come back to the fold, help us create a Second Great Music. Dagor Dagorath no longer bind us. You changed that. You alone had the will to change it. Not even I expected that. You chord is strong as it ever was. Sing it with us Mairon, help us build Ea greater than it was ever was.”

“Wait, wait, what does that mean?” Aaron spoke up for the first time, wondering if he was going to be smitten to all hell because he’d just interrupted...well God. “Does that mean you’re going wipe out everything?”

“That’s exactly what it means!” Saeran snapped. “Wipe out everything and start again. You think what I’m going to do is bad? Everything that you know will end. Your son will never see another dawn!”

“Maybe it should end,” Bryan declared, looking at Aaron. “He’s right. One hundred thousand years and all we’ve got to show for it is better ways of killing each other. Without him,” Bryan glanced at Saeran briefly, “or Melkor, we’ve managed to kill millions. We never understand until its too late and then we never remember we did once before.”

With a sigh because these were matters beyond him but what was unfolding, some truths needed to be said. He had nothing to lose now. Turning away from Aaron he placed his hands on Fred’s shoulders and continued speaking, “Maybe you thought you were giving us a chance to be our own people when you sent the elves and the dwarves away but you were wrong. We needed them as much as they needed us. Our lives are like candles, we don’t last. The elves they could have taught us, could have reminded us of what came before so we didn’t keep making the same mistakes. Them and dwarves could have shown that we didn’t own this world, we just lived in it. We couldn’t hang about destroying everything in sight because we thought it belonged to us. I don’t know what’s the right answer but if you’re going to do it all again, you need to remember what came before too.”

Fred’s reaction was not one of anger but of affection. “Son of Gondor, you were always far wiser than you gave yourself credit. What came before will not be forgotten or easily discarded. The Second Great Music will come and it will change everything but it will not be in the way that any of you imagine. There will not be destruction but rejoicing.”

Fred then turned back to Saeran. “Come back to us Mairon, you were my favourite not because of your chord but because of all my children, you were the one who carved your own fate. Melkor was vainglorious but you wanted to make something better. You made a choice to that no one else would have considered. You dared to defy what was written to realise your dream of perfection. I do not forgive your mistakes but I admire the reasoning that led you to make them.”

“Come back to the fold just like that?” Saeran stared at Fred incredulously. “And I suppose when I get there, you will lock me up in the deepest part of the Abyss in the Timeless Hall?”

“No,” Fred shook her head. “I want you to be part of the Second Great Music, I want to hear your chord, as it was before Melkor ruined the first song. I believe it is still in you, that all this bloodshed and cruelty, is the only course left to you to make it heard once more. The Second Great Music needs to be bold, it needs your love of industry and science to make it complete. Come back to us Mairon, come back to us.”

“No!” Saeran exploded, unmoved by the entreaty. “Its a trick. I will not go! Are you prepared to end the life in this body Eru? Are you? This isn’t like the sinking Numenor. If you wish me to be apart of the Second Great Music, you will have to rip me from this body and I do not think you will do that.”

“She doesn’t have to,” Bryan said and bolted forward so quickly that no one realised he was doing it in until he had slammed into Saeran and was propelling them both backwards.

“BRYAN!” Aaron screamed helplessly as he saw them both tumble over the edge of the parapet.

What power Saeran had to halt Aaron’s advance earlier did not seem to effect him and Bryan guessed as they fell that Eru was responsible for that. He felt the rush of air around him, saw the battle of dragons and fighter planes, saw the elves, dwarves and men working together, saw strange vehicles that didn’t look like they belonged to Saeran or his monsters. Mostly, he heard the rushing of wind. He heard Saeran struggling in his grip, heard the man screaming that this wasn’t going to change a thing, that Tory was still dead and he was going to die for nothing. He didn’t hear any of it. All he knew was this was about redemption, not just his but for Boromir of Gondor.

And finally it was also about revenge.

“Now,” he whispered in Saeran’s ear as the ground loomed closer. “Now we’re even.”

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