Chapter Nine

Homecoming

For Cirdan, returning to Mithlond was a journey he had longed to make.

In the age of Arda, Mithlond had been his home and it was the course he knew best when returning to the land he and his kind had departed so many years ago. For those who had travelled with him on that last journey, this homecoming was met with excitement, despite the grave circumstance that brought them here. During the last leg of the journey, he had asked to be returned to his ship from the steel beast he had been travelling. While Cirdan found many wonders with the vessel that Isaiah Hill captained, he missed the sensation of wind in his hair and the taste of salty sea air. Like Earendil who sail the sky with the light of the simaril on his brow, Cirdan only felt alive when he sailed great oceans of the world.

From the bow of the tall white ship that led the elven fleet to Mithlond, Cirdan sought out the welcome sight of land in the distance. Yet even as he did so, he could feel the gradual presence of something dark and sinister settling upon his heart. He knew not what this portent could mean but it bode ill for them he was certain and the closer they drew to the shore, the greater his sense of unease became.

“You sense it too,” Elrond Peredhil stated announcing his arrival with that grim question. The stare of Imlardis’ former lord was fixed upon the same stretch of land and his expression mirrored Cirdan’s anxiety.

With him was the girl Fred, the child that all knew was not the same one who had come to them a scarce year ago. She had become something else.

“He has preceded us to Mithlond,” the girl said dryly.

Cirdan shuddered at her manner but this was soon forgotten in the light of her words. “Oh Eru,” he breathed softly as he began to make out the column of smoke rising from the shore in the distance. “What has he done?”

“What Sauron does best,” she answered sadly. “Destroy.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Mithlond or rather the town of Sienna Cove was rorted.

As the elves and humans alike stepped onto its shores, there were no sounds except that of dying cackle of fire. The air was wet with the scent of blood. To those with the keener senses, it was all too evident what had taken place here. Nothing remained standing. Buildings were reduced to burnt-out shells, their foundations and supports were nothing but charred debris. Trees were now dead stumps and everything that lived in Mithlond was reduced to ash.

“Oh my god,” Aaron broke the silence.

“God had nothing to do with this,” Bryan declared turning away, somewhat prepared for scenes like this even before they had caught sight of land. Saeran was back for revenge and it was only natural that this place, which held such significance for the elves, would be his first port of call.

“He’s not going to be hard to find like this,” Eric added, stating the obvious. “If this is what he’s going to do to the rest of the world, we just have to follow the bodies.”

“One man did this?” Isaiah exclaimed as he took in the sight along with his elven and human companions.

“He’s not alone.” Fred explained. “He is more powerful than he has ever been. He has taken Melkor’s power for his own and has called to him all the creatures that served him through the ages. The ones he fashioned himself.”

Miranda’s breath quickened. “The Nazgul.”

“And more,” Fred continued to speak. “They are crawling out of the darkness from every corner of this world. They have been waiting for a long time to rally and the Lord of Mordor has given them purpose again. He is drawing them to him even as we stand here.”

“Then we’ve got to get moving,” Bryan took the lead, “Cirdan, you need to take the fleet and move along the coast. If Sauron’s headed for London, that’s the best place to meet him. If we kill as many of those bloody things he’s got working for him in London, we might be able to stop him before he heads for Romania.”

“Romania?” Isaiah, the novice in all this looked at his companions with puzzlement.

“In our time,” Legolas spoke up, “it was called Bara-dur. It was the seat of his power. It exists in what you now called Romania.”

A grim silence fell over the group as Prince of Mirkwood made that statement.

Bara-dur.

It was a realm they thought was done, its evil they believed to be vanquished. The idea that they would fight another battle, perhaps the battle to end all battles was an ominous feeling. However, it was not a silence Bryan could indulge. Saeran had taken Tory from him and if the desire for revenge could fuel an effort to save the world than so be it. The tactician in him could see they didn’t have a lot of time. Saeran’s actions on this small community proved that he didn’t care who was aware of him now. The veil of secrecy this lot had been so particular about keeping over throughout history had been abandoned and that made Bryan very concerned.

“Come Cirdan,” Elrond placed a hand on the former lord of Mithlond. “Do not look. Do not allow Sauron to place a shadow upon your heart.” The elf lord spoke kindly to his friend.

The old mariner could not avert his eyes and why should he? Mithlond had been his home. From these shores, he had left Arda forever and to return now to this destruction, broke his heart.

“Right,” Bryan interrupted loudly and addressed everyone present. “I know this is hard for you and your people Elrond but we have to move NOW.” He stared everyone down.

“Bryan take it easy…” Miranda started to say.

“I’m sorry luv but we can’t,” he returned promptly and met the eyes of those before him. “We just can’t. I’d love to say we ought to take a minute to mourn the dead but we don’t have the time. We’ve got to move now while we have the time. Saeran was ready to rain ICBMs on the planet the last time we dealt with him, what do you think he’s prepared to do now?”

“Oh my god….” Miranda’s eyes widened as understanding began to fill her thoughts.

“WHAT?” Aaron exclaimed somewhat unnerved by anything that could leave the blonde shaken.

“It’s what he wants,” Legolas said grimly, feeling his stomach hollow with horror. “His minions survive because they are bound to him. No weapon of man can harm them so long as he exists. Using your world’s terrible weapons against him will accomplish only one thing; poisoning your earth so neither Eldar nor Edain can survive here. He and his, however, will manage quite well.”

“Exactly,” Bryan nodded.

He had spent the journey from Valinor trying to discern what Saeran’s plans would be once the dark lord had returned to the world of men and it was so clear if you knew what the bastard wanted to achieve. After all, Saeran had spent years engineering his army of Uruks. He had planned to use them after the bombs from one year ago had been deployed. Everything he had done was to engineer an empire that would emerge after the nuclear fires had died with only the remnant of a beaten human population to contend with.

“Are you saying he’s trying to goad us into a fight?” Aaron declared horrified.

“Yes,” Fred spoke in that unearthly voice before Bryan could answer, “and when your people discover that your guns are useless against Sauron and his dark army, they will in their desperation, turn to the deadlier devices in your arsenal. They will use your weapons of mass destruction against him and learn all too late, that they have no effect on creatures of shadow. However by then the Earth will be so tainted that what is left of your people will be no match for him and his army.”

“And as he has broken the barriers between Arda and the Undying lands, we will be poisoned too though I think our deaths will be a prolonged agony.” Elrond concluded the terrible summation of Sauron’s dark plans.

“Jesus Christ,” Isaiah said wandering away from the group, sickened by the magnitude of Saeran’s evil. A military man, he could almost see it played out as the little girl had so eerily described. Of course they would turn to nuclear weapons when all else had failed. It would be inconceivable to the powers that be that any creature could be impervious to that kind of weapon. If it appeared that they could defeat Saeran’s army, he could imagine NATO coming to that decision. Better to risk a few thousand casualties to wipe out a seemingly indestructible enemy.

It would come down to numbers and though it could be considered a good tactical move, it would instead play right into the hands of the enemy.

“Right,” Bryan said sharply. “Now you know and so we have to act. Captain Hill, you need to lead Cirdan and the fleet to London. Right now, the fastest way to get the elves there is by sea. In the mean time, we need your Operations officer to start monitoring the airwaves. This bloody mess didn’t happen too long ago, a day at most I estimate. I’m actually surprised that we haven’t got any emergency services people here yet.”

“I was wondering that myself, hold on a second.” Isaiah said to Bryan, a thought occurring to him. The Connecticut had reported to Norfolk that it was delayed in the Norwegian basin owing to engine failure. It was a considerably more reasonable explanation than explaining to his superiors that he had discovered an island of elves and was escorting their fleet to England in order to stop an evil dark lord from taking over the world. Considering the Connecticut was carrying nuclear torpedoes, this was the response least likely to cause the navy to send out a fleet of submarines to carry out highlights from the Hunt for Red October.

Isaiah didn’t think he looked a bit like Sean Connery.

Lifting the radio attached to his belt to his lips, Isaiah radioed the Connecticut. “Hennessy, have you been monitoring civilian communication? What’s going on?”

“I have Sir,” Lt. Hennessy reported automatically from within the confines of the submarines’ bridge. He had been ordered to maintain radio silence during their journey back to prevent Norfolk or any other satellite from locating them. However, while he hadn’t been transmitting, he had been listening and the last few hours had been very odd indeed. Hennessy had wanted something more concrete before interrupting the Captain and their guests but the opportunity had not shown itself. “There’s some kind of satellite disruption going on. Local media towers aren’t transmitting clearly. I’m getting a lot of static. I think telephone lines might be down too.”

“What about mobile phones?” Jason asked, not meaning to eavesdrop. “I mean cell phones.”

Isaiah gave the Kiwi a look and repeated the question.

“Can’t say for certain Captain,” Hennessy answered. “At this time, I’m not even sure what’s causing the satellite failure but it’s widespread. People are getting intermittent access. Some of our global position instruments are also having trouble.”

“Alright,” Isaiah nodded. “Keep me appraised as soon as you find out what’s going on out there. Maintain our radio silence. No one needs to know where we are just yet.”

Looking up at the others after ending the call, he had to ask. “Is this him?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Bryan shrugged. “Fred, is Saeran doing this?”

“Yes,” she nodded automatically. “He wishes your people to be divided, frightened. The longer your people are unaware of what is happening, the harder it becomes to rally your defences. It would not be difficult for him to shift the path of your orbiting devices, to let them drift into the darkness.”

Bryan closed his eyes to focus. He had to use the rage he felt, the anger at Saeran for taking Tory away, used that hatred to give him focus, to help him drive the others the way they needed to be. “Captain Hill, Elrond, Cirdan, you should go now. You need to reach London and try to contact the authorities, tell them to clear a path between here and the city. Tell them someone’s deployed Sarin gas or the Ebola virus if you have to, just get everybody out of his way. Tell them to come here and see what he’s done if they don’t believe you.”

“That’s a tall order,” Isaiah pointed out, unable to think of even how he was going to approach this particular task. It didn’t matter, he had to try. Until now, Isaiah hadn’t voiced a secret fear that had been nagging at him since his departure from Valinor. Perhaps the unreality of the whole situation had convinced him the danger was real, not until he found himself at Sennen Cove, face to face with the destruction here.

He prayed to God that Lori hadn’t missed her scheduled flight to the States from Heathrow.

XXXXXXXXXX

Eve screamed.

Her wail of agony travelled across the vaulted ceiling of the famous Exeter cathedral rivalling in tenor and ferocity the building’s famous pipe organ. Clutching her stomach in pain, Eve grovelled on the floor, tears running down her cheeks as the white-hot pain seared through her insides. Through the haze of her excruciating agony, she could feel an even worse violation, the terrified state of her unborn baby’s emotions. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak a word of any coherence except to offer fruitless protest against the radiating agony inside her womb.

“Please….” she begged, unaware that she had soiled herself. She knew she had vomited, she could smell the foul odour on her clothes and on the floor where she had regurgitated bile and saliva. “Please stop it! You’re …you’re…hurting….the….baby!” She said through her sobs.

“Nonsense,” Saeran retorted smoothly, oblivious to her agony even though he was most interested in what was happening to her. Watching her closely as he squatted nearby, Saeran studied the swelling of Eve’s stomach with clinical interest. He could feel the baby inside her womb, feel its terror and its pain. The little pup was struggling inside its mother’s flesh unaware of anything except the agony it was experiencing. It couldn’t even register what was happening to it as pain, merely distress. The buttons of Eve’s jeans snapped open, the metal pieces flying in all directions. Her body’s new shape bursting past the fabric.

“The pup will be just fine,” he said looking up at the robed figure standing nearby, waiting patiently for his master’s orders, as slow smile forming on his face. Though Uvath didn’t answer, Saeran could feel his beast’s pleasure. “However I do get impatient waiting for his arrival so we have to expedite things a little faster.”

With a mere flick of his powers, Saeran cast his gaze on Eve once more, his eyes burning with the flames as it did when Frodo Baggins first slipped the One Ring onto his finger.

Eve began to shudder and threw her head back before shrieking again in agony. Her scream so piercing that even Saeran winced a little. However, he did not stop. Within her belly, beneath the layers of skin and inside the wet walls of her womb, Saeran could see the child, could envision its body growing. Arms and legs were lengthening, its skull forming, tissue and clumps of cells becoming organs and muscle. Eve’s let out one final scream before her lungs gave out and she was rendered unconscious at last. Her limbs flopping uselessly against the floor, the woman knew nothing more.

“Strip her and clean her up.” Saeran ordered when it was all said and done.

“Yes my lord,” Uvath nodded and knelt down before the woman. It was just as well she was unconscious, the Nazgul thought as he began disrobing her. Undoubtedly she would struggle if she were not and he had no patience to deal with her hysterics. Uvath would not have cared if it were up to him. This she-elf in Edain skin was known to him and he had relished every tortured scream that led up to this moment. She was filthy with vomit and shit, he noted as he lifted her into his icy touch. Her dark hair plastered to her face in sweaty tangles.

“When she smells less like an animal, put her somewhere she can sleep and feed her when she awakes,” Saeran ordered. “She will need her strength.”

There was a pause. “Yes, my Lord.”

“You disagree?” Saeran said standing up.

“That is not possible my lord,” Uvath returned quickly as he hoisted a naked Eve into his arms. “I was merely….”

“Curious?” Saeran finished the sentence for him..

The Nazgul shifted uncomfortably, his discomfiture showing in the slight rustle of his dark robes. “Is it not expedient that we wait for the babe to be born in the proper course of time? Why do you hasten her quickening? We have much to do in the world of men, enemies to fight. What use is a child to us in the midst of this? It seems to be inconvenient.”

“I will answer you because it is a fair question Uvath,” Saeran said as he walked further down the aisle to the altar at the end of the carpet. “And because you are not one who questions often. Before he dies, I want the Isildur’s heir to see the child that would have been his son, I wish him to know that it is I, his babe will call father.”

There were other reasons of course, secret reasons that had to do with his own sense of self-preservation but for this moment, this would suffice. Saeran spared one more look at Eve as she was removed from his presence. She was naked in Uvath’s arms and the result of her torture was clear for all to see. When they had set out, there was no sign of her impending motherhood. Now, he could see the turgid swell of her belly. Ensuring that her child was more than just a collection of cells would make her more manageable, Saeran decided.

Turning his back on his servant as Eve was removed from his presence, Saeran stared at the altar before him and regarded the God these Edain called upon so often to give them deliverance.

“I am in your house carpenter,” Saeran smirked as he stared at the crucifix. “Do you think that when I reduce this world to ash that these fools will finally realise that is all you are, a bastard born of an adulterous woman with a penchant for story telling? I will leave your house unsullied carpenter,” he remarked turning away towards altar. “I will leave it standing because when the end comes you can make your apologies to them personally.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Dad’s gonna be so pissed.

This thought ran through the mind of one Lieutenant Lorraine ‘Lori’ Hill as the Saab 39 Gripen Fighter she had been asked to pilot during her three week stay at the Royal Marines Base at Devon, spiralled out of control. Warnings lights were flashing across the cockpit console as the fighter jet spun in uncontrollably towards the ground. Her tolerance to extreme G-forces was good so Lori managed not to puke all over her flight suit while she struggled to regain control of her wounded bird.

Not an easy thing to do since most of the right wing was ripped off by a dragon. Yes boys and girls, Lori thought to herself as she ignored the queasiness in her stomach and kept her eyes fixed on the controls, a fucking dragon.

Lori had been thrilled when she and a handful of other American pilots had been selected to test pilot a number of Gripen fighter jets that the RAF had purchased recently. The Swiss made plane had been touted as the next thing in fourth generation fighters and before USAF had its own spanking new planes delivered, they wanted their pilots to have some idea how the things handled. So Lori found herself attached to the RAF for a couple of weeks and was all set to go home the day before when a squadron of Tornadoes were taken out above the English coast.

At first, no one could believe the reports coming out of Cornwell. Some kind of flying creatures were burning down everything in their path. Someone actually used the word dragon. Insanity, that’s what it was, insanity. Then they lost contact with Pendent, Land’s End, Penzance, Hale and Camborne. Aerial surveillance, what they could get of it, indicated towering infernos of black smock and oddly enough, communication blackout. Phone lines were destroyed, cell phones were rendered inert. The first thought that had crossed their minds was a terrorist attack. In these uncertain times, it was a logical conclusion to make.

Then the refugees began pouring out of Cornwall, with fantastical stories of dragons and monsters. Stories that told of enormous spiders and dogs that were as large as bears, tearing and murdering, to say nothing about the stories about real live Dementors leading the charge. No one knew what to make of it except to claim that it was the effect of some kind of gas attack by terrorists that produced hallucinations, Harry Potter ones it seemed.

It was much simpler to believe that than the truth.

The army was dispatched, the Devonshire Dorset Light Infantry was sent to gather some accurate intelligence as to what was happening in Cornwell.

They hadn’t been heard from since.

More planes were sent and in the spirit of trans-Atlantic cooperation, Lori and her fellow American pilots joined the fight. Not that it was much of a fight. The F3s and Gripen had left the Chivenor base at Devon uncertain of what they would face. By the time they took to the air, the panic and destruction had reached Exeter and the communication blackout was expanding. It was as if the world had been cut off from Cornwall. Satellites that were in place a day before were drifting aimlessly into space, having detached from their geo-synchronous by some unseen force. Governments were pointing fingers at each other and all the while, Cornwall was burning.

As they flew over the ground, Lori had shared the shock of her fellow flight jocks when she caught a visual of the terrain beneath them. Huge tracts of land were ablaze, buildings, houses, trees and fields of grass were charred into blackened ash. The smoke was so thick that it robbed them of visibility and though there was no indication of any ground zero, it was all too reminiscent of the September 11 attacks on New York City. Even though England was not her country, Lori felt the same outrage and wanted to find whoever was responsible.

Sharing a bond of kinship with her English brothers in the air, Lori became just as committed at finding out who was responsible for this destruction.

It wasn’t long before they learned it wasn’t a who but rather a what.

There was at least five of them and when they appeared on the scopes, Lori thought she was looking at enemy bogeys. They were certainly moving fast enough to justify the error. A little under Mach One, their ability to manoeuvre was exceedingly fast. Lori hadn’t seen that kind of capability since she had a chance to pilot a Harrier. When they finally got a visual, it was more all she could do to keep her jaw from dropping.

Their bogeys were dragons, real life honest to god dragons.

And what Lori had seen in the movies and books simply did not do the creatures justice. They hovered in mid air, the smallest one had a wing size comparable to a DC-10 and the largest, a 747. Their scales glistened from black to iridescent green, smooth, impossibly gracile muscles rippling under the sunlight. Lori thought they were almost beautiful. Malevolent red eyes glared at them before they opened their mouths and revealed impossibly large teeth.

Someone shouted the order to retreat but it was too late.

What happened next happened in blast of fire. Her Gripen was virtually bathed in it and she fired her engines to manoeuvred, felt something very big latch on to her plane. The weight forced the aircraft down and through the voice of panic she could hear through the radio, Lori realised that the dragons had broken formation and was attacking each plane one by one. She struggled to shake the thing off but its huge claws ripped off a wing like it was paper and somehow lost it grip in the process. It was determined however to have the plane and soon resumed its attack. She was saved when McRae in an F3 unleashed a hail of bullets at the beast, distracting it long enough for Lori to make her escape.

Such as it was.

She couldn’t regain control of the craft and it was still spinning. The ground was becoming perilously close but ever the optimist, the dragons were mostly concentrating on the planes overhead and had forgotten about her for the moment. She was fast approaching minimum safe distance for ejection and knew that she had to make the decision fast. A delayed ejection decision could cost Lori her life and she wasn’t quite ready to check out just yet. She could hear the other pilots through her radio and knew that they were having problems of their own.

Looking up, she couldn’t see anything because the air was so filled with smoke. However, through the turbulence, Lori hear their terror and the awful bellowing of the dragon’s roar just before it blasted them with a wall of fire. Closing her eyes, she activated the ejection mechanism.

She shot out of the plane like a bullet in a gun, the canopy sliding away and tumbling from the Gripen as Lori was launched through the sky, strapped to the ejection seat. Bracing herself for the wild ride down, she closed her eyes and waited for the familiar bloom of a parachute to appear above her head. A few seconds later, Lori felt her sharp descent slow and as she opened her eyes, saw that the parachute was there above her.

She’d never ejected before and had something of a phobia that the parachute wouldn’t open and she’d be one of those unfortunate persons who had their parachute silk stolen by that fuck in Catch-22, Minderbender. Fortunately, Lori was spared that much at least. As she descended into the township of Exeter, Lori studied the terrain and knew that if the people were right about the dragons, then they were right about all the other things they had seen too. The pilot wasn’t prepared to travel down that road yet but nevertheless double-checked that she was carrying her service pistol.

Beneath her, a fireball surged into the air when her Gripen hit the ground via the roof of a small office building and ignited the three-storey structure with an explosion that blew out all the windows and set it ablaze. Glass and mortar flew about in all direction, each fragment ignited by jet fuel and other accelerants. Lori hoped the building was empty when it hit but had a feeling that it wasn’t. She forced away the guilt for the moment because her survival depended on her having a clear head. That blast might have attracted the attention of the beast that caused it and Lori kept searching the sky for any signs that it might have seen her descent. The damn parachute was a dead giveaway.

The ejector seat deposited her in someone’s rather unkempt backyard. The house was still standing which was a good sign. Too many she had seen on the way down were burned out wrecks, The seat landed a few meters from the back door and Lori counted herself lucky she didn’t end up on the roof and make an unholy mess of it. Besides, those shingles didn’t look very strong. Quickly freeing herself from the seat, she glanced up and saw the aerial battle taking place.

Another plane was streaking towards the ground, trailing black smoke. She saw no other parachutes in the air and that frightened her almost as much as the dragons.

Was she the only one who made it to the ground?

God, she hoped not.

XXXXXXXXXX

For Morgul, moments like this were far and few.

Even since the destruction of the One Ring and their subsequent resurrection in Arda by their master, Morgul had not experienced true joy as he had when Mordor still stood. The modern world was a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, especially when he had seen how populous the Edain had become. Like an infection, they covered every corner of the globe and their attempt to rule was next to pitiful. The entire race had been bred into weakness with not one amongst them worthy enough to rule.

Soon, the race of man would learn what true power was. Their master had return to them and the promises of a new age, beckoned with all the trappings of destruction in abeyance. As the Lord of the Nazgul moved across the debris covered street of Exeter, the latest city to fall under the onslaught of Sauron’s new army lay before him in ruins. What life there was left in the city was being hunted down by the wargs and the great spiders. The sound of screaming pierced the air at regular intervals as another enclave of cowering humans were located.

The dragons had rained fire upon the city, setting most of it a blaze. What the flame did not kill, the spiders and the wargs did so with ruthless efficiency, picking up the scent of blood and fear and following it back to its source. The spiders were gorging themselves, having not fed so richly in too long. The beasts had claimed the local museum for their own and created hatcheries within its walls. Neither Sauron nor Morgul saw any difficulty with this as there would be plenty of food to furnish the young while they formed, thanks to the good folk of Exeter.

The Edain army had arrived early this morning and attempted to halt their progress. Morgul had led his brothers against the arrayed forces. As none among them knew what they were facing, Morgul was able to end them quickly enough with a blast of Black Breath. When they had been resurrected into this new world, Morgoth had forbade the return of their full powers but now that their master was himself strengthened, he had returned to them to their former glory. The soldiers had fallen where they stood, enveloped by a sleep so dark they could not escape.

And as they lay there, unknowing, Morgul gave them to the spiders.

“Is he done with the female?” Morgul inquired as they past Guildhall towards the city centre.

“I believe so,” Adunaphel remarked, scanning the abandoned shop fronts and detected movement through the glass. Casting a look at the warg that followed behind him as if it were a pet, the wraith gestured in the direction of the shop front and said promptly. “Go.”

The beast launched itself forward on powerful legs, running across the sidewalk before entering the opened doors of the establishment. Its bulk belied its stealth and following the sound of breaking glass and furniture being upended, a terrified scream was cut short by its powerful roar.

“Don’t let the wargs eat them all,” Morgul advised. “The trolls will need to be fed also. Gather any other humans that are still alive and keep them in Guildhall. The trolls can feed when the sun goes down. Tell them to eat their fill because we will be moving at midnight. He wants to be in London by the morning.”

”Shall we send the dragons ahead?” Khamul inquired.

“Yes, he wants London in flames by the time we arrived there,” Morgul answered quickly. “You will go with Mumakan and Akhorahil. Carry out the same instructions, have the dragons burn down all telephone lines and destroy anything that resemble a transmitting tower. Not knowing what is happening or being able to talk to each other will heighten their state of panic. Khamul, you will lead the dragons against their jets. Mumakan and Akhorahil will breathe the Black Breath upon the city. Give them a taste of what is to come when we arrive there with our lord.”

“We will proceed now,” Mumakan nodded behind the dark hood of his cloak. “What of you?”

”The woman needs rest,” Morgul said with an unmistakable hint of disgust in his voice. “While the whelp festers inside her like an open sore, she must be handled delicately. As you would have heard from her bleating, our Lord Sauron has hastened her quickening, a process that taxes her body greatly. He cannot try again until she has regained sufficient strength or else he risks harming her and the babe.”

Adunaphel shook his head in confusion. “I do not understand his fascination for this female. She is fair and does bear some passing resemblance to Luthien but she ruts with the incarnation of Isildur’s heir! She would taint him with her poisonous elven blood.”

“SILENCE!” Morgul roared, a frightening sound that made the wargs following them in attendance shrink back in fear, their ears flattening as their fur rose. “You do not question the Master! Do you not feel what he feels? The elves are coming!”

“The elves?” Adunaphel’s eyes flashed like red embers.

“Yes,” Morgul nodded. “Can you not sense their presence? Search yourself, open your mind to his power and you will feel them...”

Adunaphel did not speak but did as he was instructed, opening his thoughts, connecting himself to their masters’ formidable essence. Like a thirsty man standing on the edge of a great lake, the sheer power at Sauron’s disposal was overwhelming and threatened to drown him in its great depths if he leaned too far in. In the murky water, he saw what Morgul saw…the great ships of the Teleri sailing across the ocean with the Peredhil and the Lord of the Falathrim leading the charge.

“How soon?” Adunaphel started to say.

“They are already here,” Morgul said abruptly, impatient by Adunaphel’s inability to see but then again he had been the last to fall completely into shadow and was always to afraid to test the limits of his connection to their lord. While Sauron saw nothing worrisome in this, Morgul found it annoying.

There should be no secrets among the Nazgul.

“Should we not deal with them?” The lesser Nazgul asked not merely of Morgul but of all his brothers assembled. “They will carry with them elven blessed weapons, weapons that can harm us.”

“If our lord is not afraid, then neither should we be,” Khamul spoke with derision.

“We will be waiting for the Eldar when they arrive in London,” Morgul said smugly. “The Teleri do not have enough ships for all the elves of Valinor to make the journey here and furthermore, they will be perceived as much of a threat to the Edain of this world as we are. They will find no allies on these shores. If nothing else, the Edain are hostile and divisive, they will view the elves with hostility and while they are trying to discern whether Elrond and his ilk ought to be trusted, our Uruks will be awaiting us at Bara-dur.”

However, despite his bold words, Morgul did not reveal to his brother that the arrival of the Eldar was of concern to Sauron, whether or not the dark lord wished to admit it. The others like Khamul and Mumakan could sense it but Adunaphel was too fearful to probe the dark recesses of Sauron’s thoughts. What other reason could there be for hastening the birth of the child?

If nothing else, Sauron knew how to survive, even if it was in the unlikeliest of places.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was the screams that woke Eve up from her black sleep.

It cut through her ears so abruptly, that she sat up as if awaking from a nightmare, only to realise that it was the other way round, she was waking up to the nightmare. She looked around the room and did not recognise where she was but noticed that it was somewhat Spartan in its furnishings. A wooden cross hung on the wall and the few books on the shelves were somewhat theological in its nature. So intent was Eve in studying her surroundings for that first few minutes, that she didn’t notice that she was naked.

But that wasn’t even the worst of it.

Eve looked down and saw her stomach, saw her swollen stomach where only yesterday it had been flat without any outward signs of pregnancy. As she gaped at herself, her hand drifted to the rise of her belly and felt the involuntary kick of the child within. Her fingers shrank back as if scalded, the enormity of what had been done settling over Eve like thick smoke. She couldn’t breathe and had to fight the urge to scream.

What had he done to her? What had he done to her baby?

Almost as if he knew she was awake, the door to the room suddenly creaked open and David Saeran stepped inside, pausing at the doorway to take a long appreciative look at her.

“My dear you are positively glowing,” he smirked, his expression showing no endearment in that remark only mocking derision.

“What have you done to my baby, you bastard!” Eve hissed angrily and yet she hugged her arms around her rounded belly, protecting the child inside of her even though she did not know if it was still her child or some abomination that Saeran had created inside of her using her child’s body.

Saeran completed his entry into the room, shutting the door behind him. In his hand, he carried a glossy paper bag, like something one would get after shopping at a boutique. “I brought you something to wear,” he said indifferently. “As entertaining as it might be to have you continue our journey with nothing on, this damn English weather makes that rather impossible. After all, you have the baby to think about.”

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!” She shrieked with rage, her fists shaking.

Saeran smiled, unperturbed by her outburst. “Nothing that will harm your infant permanently I assure you,” he said coolly. “I accelerated his growth a little. I thought I’d take these new powers for a spin and see what developed. I have to say it was quite informative.”

“Informative!” She sputtered in fury, her memory returning to her in its fullness. She remembered screaming in pain, begging for him to end the agony, pleading for her baby’s life. “If you’ve hurt my baby…”

“You’ll do what?” Saeran asked pointedly.

Eve fell silent, her eyes burning with hatred because she had never felt more helpless than at this moment. “Nothing,” she whispered, blinking tears of frustration that bordered on total despair. “I’ll do nothing.”

“A sensible decision,” Saeran lowered himself unto the edge of the bed next to her, dropping the bag on the floor at his feet. Eve wanted to shrink away from him, she wanted neither his touch nor his gifts. “If you continue to be sensible Eve, your time with me will not be unpleasant. I do not wish your affection but you can be engaging when you wish to be and there are moments when I require being engaged.”

”And in return?” Eve asked softly, refusing to believe that she would be forced to honour such an agreement because she still burned with the hope that Aaron and Bryan would deliver her this nightmare.

“In return, I’ll let you keep your son. If all goes to plan and I’m certain it will, I’ll have no real need of him except to ensure that you behave. Who knows, he might even prove to be as amusing to me as I am certain you'll be."

"You won't hurt him?" She lifted glistening blue eyes to him.

Giving in to him like this was hard. It felt as if a little part of her had died just saying the words. Until now, she hadn’t realised what a sacrifice it would be to ensure this child inside of her remained safe and still, she had no assurances that he wouldn't harm the baby, even if she gave him what he wanted.

If he chose to renege, there was nothing Eve could do to prevent it.

"I won't hurt him unless you give me reason to," Saeran answered, sensing her indecision and the awareness of the situation she was in.

Good, he thought with triumph. The first capitulation was always the hardest. The rest will be much easier.

XXXXXXXXXX

As the flotilla of elven began their journey down the Cornish coast, those who had opted to remain behind set out to find themselves an alternate means of transport to London. Although Bryan wanted to send Frank and the kids out of harm’s way, his brother would not hear of it and was determined to stand by them in this fight. Frank did however, agree to entrust Pip and Sam into Jason’s care. The former camera man had friends in the north of England who could watch over the two boys while the adults in their party headed towards London.

“I don’t want to go,” Sam grumbled as he stood by the four wheel drive they had found abandoned in the outskirts of the Cove.

“Sam you have to,” Frank said to his child as Jason packed up the vehicle with supplies. “I need you to look after Pip.”

He hated sending the boys away but there was bloody work ahead and neither he nor Miranda could focus if they had were worrying about their children. At least up north, Sam and Pip be out of the line of fire while the fate of the world was being decided. Frank only hoped that they could succeed in stopping Saeran or else nowhere Sam and Pip were hidden would be safe.

Sam glanced at his brother who was being hugged hard by their mother and knew that despite his want to stay, he could not. He had to take care of Sam. “What about Fred?” He asked instead, knowing the little girl was not making the journey with them.

“I have to remain Sam,” she came forward and hugged him. “I have to show them the way.”

Frank exchanged an anxious glance with Miranda who had not been happy about this decision. However, it was clear that there was more to Frederica Bailey than they knew. Someone else was inhabiting her body at present, someone whose help they needed desperately to fight Saeran.

“But we’ve always done things together…” Sam protested weakly, knowing she, like his father was right.

“And we will again Sam,” she put her face on his cheek. “But this path I must walk alone and you must keep your brother safe. We will see each other again, I promise.”

Sam offered a small smile that hid his disappointment but he knew the little girl before him wasn’t all Fred and every since he had met her, nothing she told him was untrue. Sam didn’t think this time was any different.

“Alright,” he agreed at last, as if he had any choice in the matter. “I’ll go.”

“That’s my boy,” Frank smiled at his son and hoped as much as Sam that Fred’s promise would be the truth.

XXXXXXXXXX

“You right to do this?” Eric asked Jason as his loyal camera man loaded up the back of the vehicle with supplies of fuel, food and Bryan’s contribution to the stores, a handgun just in case of trouble.

“Yeah,” Jason nodded. Although he wanted to stay and fight with his friends, he knew the importance of the task asked of him. Miranda trusted him with the most precious things in her life and he could not disappoint her. Whether or not it was the kinship shared by their past incarnations or the fact that the woman had earned his respect and admiration, Jason knew he would lay down his life to ensure that Sam and Pip were safe. “I’m right. You’re going to keep out of trouble?” He asked the crazy Australian who had made his life one roller coaster ride after another since their first meeting.

“Are you kidding?” Eric pretended to laugh with false bravado. “I’m keen to go mate. Evil dark lord, dragon and nuclear annihilation, if I don’t get a Pulitzer out of this, I’ll be able to shag all the birds I want.”

“That’s the way mate,” Jason rolled his eyes and laughed, “always thinking with your dick.”

“Has it ever led me wrong?” Eric returned smugly.

“I’m not even going to answer that,” Jason shook his head and said with a sobering expression. “You take care of yourself. If London’s still standing after this is all said and done, I’ll shout you a beer at the Old Bell.”

”You’re on,” Eric grinned and watched him climb into the driver’s seat, praying it wasn’t the last time he’d see his best friend again.

XXXXXXXXXX

Of the group had returned from Valinor, only Aaron, Bryan, Miranda, Frank, Eric and Legolas remained in the ruined town of Sennen Cove. Ariel had gone with the elven fleet to London, a happenstance not unnoticed by anyone present and judging by Legolas’ mood, Aaron suspected that the gulf separating husband and wife was not merely distance. Something had taken place during the journey to Arda that Legolas was being exceedingly closed mouth about. As they prepared to leave Cornwall for London with Aaron and Legolas walking through the ruined town in the hopes of finding another vehicle to make the trip, Legolas’ silence forced Aaron to speak up.

”What the hell has happened between you and Ariel?” Aaron finally asked.

Legolas turned sharply to his friend. “That is none of your concern.” He said stiffly.

“The hell it isn’t,” the psychiatrist would not be deterred. This wasn’t just one of his patients or a consult, this was his friend and Aaron was determined to hear what was distracting him so. “You’re barely here and considering what we have to do and whom we have to face, you not being focussed is going to get you killed.”

“Do not lecture me when you are similarly plagued by Eve’s capture by Sauron,” Legolas bit back.

Aaron swallowed his anger at that rather underhanded comment because he could not deny how he had been acting. He had forced himself not to think of anything except getting Eve back and refused to entertain the notions of what Saeran could be doing to her. Aaron knew the folly in letting his imagination assume the worst; it would make him capable of being of any real use to her. Bryan was right, while Eve was still alive there was a chance to save her and if Bryan could put the battle ahead of his own grief, Aaron could do no less.

And the same applied to Legolas.

“I am plagued by her capture,” Aaron retorted, his jaw tensing with anger as he spoke, anger which he quashed because it confirmed his suspicion that whatever had happened between the elf and his lady, it was no lover’s quibble but something serious. Elves mated for life and divorce was unheard of. For a break of this magnitude, Aaron could well understand Legolas’ despair. “However, I can’t let that stop me from thinking straight. If I didn’t get myself under control, I am no good to her and she needs me to be strong. If Bryan can deal with his grief then I think you and I can manage a little better.”

The mention of Tory’s fate quelled Legolas’ anger somewhat and the elf let out a deep and weary sigh. “Ariel no longer wishes to be my wife.”

“Why?” Aaron exclaimed. “Is that even possible for you guys?”

“We will remain mated for all time and bound to one another but as you have often claimed, it requires more than love to make a union between two people last.” Legolas said unable to meet Aaron’s gaze because confronting his feelings only deepened his shame.

“So what’s the problem?” The human asked of the elf. “You two were together for a hundred thousand years, why now?”

“We have been together for a long time that is true,” Legolas admitted sadly, “but she was not the first love of my life.”

“Yeah I remember, Melia right?” Aaron asked as they saw a station wagon parked haphazardly against the kerb. The shattered glass and the deep grooves along the side panelling indicated the violence that had caused it to come to such an abrupt stop.

“Melia,” Legolas said quietly, remembering the beautiful woman who had been his wife for half a century. How he had loved her and how he had mourned her every day since her passing. A part of him had never really let go of Melia, even when he was convinced that she was reborn in Ariel’s body. At the core of him, Legolas knew he was still slave to the image of that maid from the Sunlands in her faded blue dress.

“And?” Aaron urged as he approached the car cautiously and felt his stomach hollow at the scent of diesel and blood. He needed Legolas to talk, so he wouldn’t be overwhelmed by yet another image of death.

“And Ariel thinks that I do not see her for who she is, just the memory of who she was to me in another life.” The elf admitted after a lengthy pause.

Looking through the shattered window, he could see blood and lots of it. If there was a body in the vehicle, it was no longer there but the torn seats and the claw marks against the upholstery gave Aaron ample evidence of what had taken place.

“So you told her she was wrong and she didn’t believe you?” Aaron said leaning through the window and pulling the lever that popped the hood. He winced as he did so, not wanting to look to closely at the blood just yet.

Legolas turned away, “I could not tell her that,” he said unable to face Aaron as he spoke, “because I do not believe she is wrong.”

TO BE CONTINUED