Pain.
A piercing pain.
A sensation of a sharp piece of metal sliding into yielding flesh.
Archer stabbed me.
Well, there was no way that Archer would take those words well. He was something of a hypocrite. It was acceptable for him to take insane risks, but not for others.
Saving the villain was the most optimal way of resolving the situation. And I mean redeeming, not just giving them what they want. That would only encourage behavior that created problems in the first place.
But that were many problems with such a solution, without even counting situations where there was no clear villain.
The ones already hurt would want vengeance. Forgiveness was admired for its rarity. It would take a large investment with a high risk of failure. Because by the time one became a villain ruinous habits were already set.
In other words, it was very likely that would not be worth it.
Choosing an option with an optimal solution that had a low probability of working was unworkable in the long run. Math was clear.
I knew that. I taught that.
Economics of salvation. Part of my patented course on how to be an effective superhero. Well, I may have just one graduate, but he seemed to be doing well the last time I saw him. Even in a rather unforgiving World.
So I could understand that Archer believed that I was compromised.
The immediate and firm reaction was reasonable. Considering his specialized skill set, stabbing me was almost expected.
But, still. I used stored magical energy in my pendant to cast healing spells. Usually, it would be harder to help from a weapon as significant as Noble Phantasm, but this sword was not made to cause physical wounds.
"Why did you have to use that sword? For the record, if you have to stab me to break me from suspected mind control, please use Rule Breaker?"
Being cut was so much worse than just holding that sword.
I was assaulted by an unwelcome insight. True magic was a violation of reality. That made a sorcerer like a bleeding wound in the substance World. No better metaphor would be grit in a wound that prevents healing right. Something to be eliminated. To be expunged. I immediately stopped that train of thought.
That sword!
"If I stab you with Rule Breaker, all active spells you have on you will be terminated. That includes any bond with familiars."
"It would be worth it. Still, I need better containment for the ring. Obviously, it was much more insidious than I thought." I brought forth mercury and engulfed the ring in an egg-like shape. "Encase it in iron please."
He did what I asked. I was now holding a black iron egg.
He asked, "Do you think that is enough?"
"Of course not. I am going to use the Russian method. You are going to keep watch on me and stab me if I falter. Use the Rule Breaker this time."
The next step of the process found me sitting in my workshop under my house making gem-based familiar.
Archer didn't want to leave me alone, fearing the influence of the ring. I could say that he was paranoid, but that piece of gold was insidious. And I seemed much more vulnerable to it than a hobbit.
I disliked having him hover over me as I worked. So we compromised.
And by that I mean I replaced my chair with him, on all fours, without a stitch of clothing.
And besides, even if Archer was naked and I was sitting on him, I did not doubt that he was quite capable of stabbing me if needed.
Around the iron egg, I was shaping a bird made of amethyst. I was using a spell embedded in Magic Crest to alter both the shape and internal structure of several gems merging them into a bird-like shape.
It was often that I used this branch of family arts to make familiars. The results were too static for my liking. It was a matter of preferences rather than pure utility. But there were circumstances when it was useful to have a mobile tool with no life. In this case, an unchangeable nature would hopefully help resist corruption.
"It's done. I am going to need an apron for the next part."
Standing up Archer teased, "Naked apron time?"
I was surprised. I didn't know that he was interested in something like that. After all, he never allowed me to cook. Calling him territorial about a kitchen was a deep understatement. And housework.
Not that I minded. Even if I did feel a bit guilty about leaving chores all to him.
"Considering that I am about to be elbows deep into the guts of an undead giant spider… You have strange tastes."
"I married you, after all."
"Well, at least I won't get my clothes dirty." And then I started to strip.
"I was joking."
"Now, now, don't be ashamed of your kinks. Let the perversion flow through you."
The work was grueling, but I was used to it. Perhaps I should have brought the spider out, rather than going into the Otherworld, but the Otherworld was easier to clean. Even if organs within the spider seemed alien and the crystal on my newly made bird familiar had strange angles and even stranger colors.
After sewing it back up, I said, "Done. Now just one more thing. Central Contol, spider terminal is now assigned to Bone Tree. Bone Tree is to be permanently brought into the Otherworld." Constantly calling it Central Intelligence was getting to be annoying. "And from now on you respond to the name Cid."
"I hear and obey, master." now named Cid said through the spider. And then left.
"Why Cid?" Archer asked.
"Because CC sounds stupid," I answered, then spoke about a more important topic, "The ring into an iron egg into a jeweled bird into a dead spider into a bone tree. Not an exact match, but good enough to work. I wish I had studied those Mysteries more but Curses in general are a bit outside my specialty." Perhaps It would be better to demon containment. After all, I knew it better. But that would require me to meddle with Dark Lord Names, and I deemed it too risky. Also, that would rely too much upon Mysteries encoded in the Abrahamic holy texts, which may not be wholly compatible.
"But still, I had to admit that I had made quite a mess. I thought for a moment, and then said, "You know where the cleaning supplies are. I trust that you can take care of this, Archer."
"I hear and obey, Master." Could he have sounded less sarcastic? Perhaps. But I did find it attractive since it gave me an excuse to punish him. Probably the same reason he often used that tone of voice when talking to me.
"It is good you are still naked. After all this hard work I do deserve some reward."
Since he was putting on an erotic show at my request, I did my best to pay attention to every little detail. "Hard" work, but someone had to do it. I even provided helpful comments.
"Put your back into it."
"You missed a spot."
"Spread your legs more."
"Shake that ass."
The nature of this place distorted the picture somewhat, but I was used to it by now. Enough that by the time he finished cleaning the floor, I was quite ready for the next part.
A nice shower.
One of the improvements Archer had installed in our home.
Sifting the exit gate to the bathroom we got together to shower. I could say it was to save water, but it would be completely untrue.
Once we were under hot water, I pushed him against the wall, and whispered in his ear, "At the camp, they taught us to shower together, so we would prevent each other from masturbating. How am I doing?"
"I certainly am not tempted to do that now," he said while grabbing my behind. "But I am quite certain they didn't mean it like that."
I licked right behind his ear. Then I grabbed his hard cock and said, "I think my methods work better."
Then I captured his mouth and deep kiss. Our tongues dueled, while I caught both of our hard cocks into my fist.
It didn't take us long to come together, but that was just the beginning.
I fucked him in the shower, then he carried me to our bed and he fucked me there. And more…
There were some things that I found annoying about being an Elf, but I loved having a reduced need for sleep and great stamina. It made for fun nights.
I know that Archer also had great fun because there were some delicious honey cakes with breakfast. Not many and I had to share them with boys. But still, it was nice to see my hard work properly rewarded. Not that work was not its own reward.
"We will be having an important guest at the forge. The White Wizard would be doing some rather historic smith work there. Be polite, be quiet, and above all things pay attention. To watch one of his kind, and especially this one, at work is both a rare and great opportunity for you so I want to observe very carefully."
"How long will he be there?" the older boy asked.
"Until he finishes reforging Narsil," I answered, basking in the boys' amazement and awe.
For seven days and seven nights, we did work, pausing only for the quick meal of waybread and sweet herbal teas that Archer brought. Curumo did most of the work, placing the broken blade into the fire, he did seem rather pleased with a tribute to Aule, merging the pieces into one, hammering away the imperfections of the red-hot blade, speaking the Words of power.
I was mostly relegated to tasks usually assigned to apprentices, but I didn't mind much, for I have learned a great deal. The boys tried to help, but they were both young and being Men and could not keep up with the frantic pace of the endeavor.
The Elves could delay sleep but not indefinitely, so when we were finished Archer helped me to the bed at our home, and I fell asleep almost immediately. When I woke, the wizard had already left Imladris.
The new sword was named Anduril, the Flame of the West. I suppose some things were fated. Even if it was Curumo and not Estel who named it here.
The dreams I had during that time I forgot, save one. And that one was neither mine nor pleasant.
Ogre tyrant on a massive throne, wearing an iron crown with two shining jewels, and a great Warhammer in his lap. His court was less memorable, just the impression of monstrous shadows.
It seemed that contracting a Guardian Spirit, even a false one, was in some way like contracting a Servant. Interesting, but hardly a discovery that would lead to new magical theories.
First I saw upon waking was a naked Elf by my bedside.
It wasn't Archer.
First, his hair was black, not red, and second, he was in astral form. Archer could no longer do that.
"At last it worked. Not that I had any expected time?"
"What worked? Wait!? You can see me!?"
"Yes."
"How can you see me?"
"It is the consequences of what we had done."
"I don't remember it."
"It is to be expected. I had warned you that it would be a price to pay, and you agreed. But, your memories will return in time."
"How long until they return?"
"I don't know. Even if I had records of similar cases, what we did was unprecedented."
"Is it the reason why no one can see, except you?"
"No, and yes. It would be best if you abandon those questions until your memories return. It's too complicated to explain what happened without them... Knowing nothing, you can understand nothing." I paused there for a moment then I had a stray thought. If he had forgotten everything, that probably included my name. "If you don't remember, I am called Rin."
"Rin? I can almost remember it. I think."
"Don't force it. It will come to you in your own time."
"I would introduce myself, but my name is also something I had lost. I suppose you could tell me?"
"No, I can not When you knew your name you were unwilling to share it, now that you are willing you no longer recall it. Choose something for now. It would be convenient. When you remember your name you always change it. Or not."
He thought for a minute or two, then simply said, "Mel. It seems right."
The love of a friend in Quenya. "It is a pretty name. I have work to do. Follow me or not as you please. Just don't talk to me when there are others around. There are enough rumors about madness in my bloodline without me adding to it."
He did choose to follow me.
The first thing I did was to check on my apprentices and had a lively discussion with them about what they observed and learned during the reforging of Narsil. I had to explain some things and correct some misunderstandings. But generally, I was pleased. And proud of them. They were advancing fast.
To better internalize the lessons, I left them with the task of writing an essay about what they had seen. It would not only help them in the future, but also serve as a record of this historic occasion.
Next, I went in search of Elrond. I was curious, now that the sword was reforged, how did he plan to get to its intended wielder? And there was also a nagging feeling that it was important for me to do so.
I found the Elf-lord in his library. He was sitting on a table on the first floor that was well-lit from sunlight streaming from windows. There were several scrolls and maps on the table that he was looking over.
He seemed busy, so I was about to go back when noticed me and motioned me to approach.
After greeting him and some small talk I asked about the plan for the sword. If I was allowed to know it.
The answer turned out to be neither secret nor overly complicated. He planned to send some Elves with Rohirim, since they were going back to Rohan, and then to Minas Tirith from there. Once they arrive at the fortress, carriers should be able to find Elstel's whereabouts.
"We do have a faster way to get there. I believe I demonstrated it. Just one wouldn't work for a lot of people, or much weight, but for a sword and a messenger it should be enough," I said, referring to my glider.
"That device can reach Gondor?" Elrond asked, astonished.
"In summer?" I posed a rhetorical question. Then I went over quick calculations in my head. I need to approximate a lot, but from the measures, we had taken, "Yes."
"Why summer?"
From the corner of my eye, I saw for a moment a flash from Elrond's right hand, like something small and metallic reflecting sunlight. But when I looked at it, it was bare. Must have been mistaken then.
"For longer reach, the glider needs updrafts." I knew no word for thermals in any of the Elvish languages. "Those are made when the sun heats the ground."
"The word you seeking is rúcina." The literal translation of that would be rising warmth. It did fit." You should study Lore of the Wind. I could give you some instructions. And for the embassy to Gondor, they will travel by your device. I had a promotion that would be needed soon. Ascarnil had been diligently practicing with it. He alone should be enough."
It was easier to convince him than I thought it would be. He was wise enough to recognize an excellent idea when he heard it. But still, this was the opportunity I should not miss. "I would like to go with him. The glider can carry a passenger. And if something happens I am the only one who knows how to repair it."
"You are free to go. Although be swift to return, if this device can carry messenger at those distances, I would like you to make more of them."
We talked some more, mostly another lecture on the Lore of Wind. He deemed it prudent for me to know more about it for the mission. Lore of the Wind, as he taught it to me, consisted of both scientific explanations of how air naturally moved, as well as Words that would allow me to perceive and command it. He also recommended a book. One was written by him on that topic. Later, from it, I would learn the origin of the word for thermals in Elvish. Elrond.
I was still reading that book when Archer returned home.
"Finally awake. I was close to considering a radical solution," he said.
"Oh. A kiss perhaps."
"No. Ice cubes."
That made me chuckle.
"I have something I could use your help with."
"Sure. I don't have anything else planned."
"But not here." And then I used a key to open a path to the Otherworld.
"I don't want to go there," Mel suddenly said, "Sorry. You said not to talk when others are present."
Perhaps it was for the better.
"Fano here is an exception. If it's just the two of us, it is not a problem. But you can wait here if you want. It won't take long."
"Is it safe? It doesn't feel safe."
"It is for Fano and me. Mostly. But I am beginning to suspect that it is not so for anyone else. If only there was an ethical way to test." And with those words, I went through the door and Archer followed.
The entrance hall seemed bare. I guess I got used to having a giant spider sentinel.
"Here is good. So, just to confirm you can trace weapons just from memory?"
"As long as it is a memory of directly seeing a weapon. And the weapon is sufficiently conceptually similar to a sword. If you have a memory of a sniper rifle…"
"No, a Warhammer."
"It should be possible. Why?"
"I have something to confirm." And then I transferred the memory of the dream to him. Much of it had faded, but the image of the tyrant on the throne and his weapon were fresh. I couldn't forget them if I tried.
He released a massive amount of magical energy.
Archer looked almost comical holding onto a hammer that was several times his size. But there was nothing humorous about it. It was not just a tool of murder, any weapon was that in the end. It was a symbol of oppression, of unrelenting force that crushed everything, until the only thing that was left was under the will of its wilder.
Even if this was a poor facsimile there was no mistaking it.
"That is Grond, is it?" I asked.
Forged in an unknown time and place, Grond was mentioned in stories told by Man and Elves but once, as the weapon of Morgoth in his single combat with Fingolfin, High King of the Ñoldor. If Orcs told more tales about it, I didn't know. But there was no story of it being lost, so first Dark Lord probably continued using it until his defeat.
"Yes, it is. And I thought wraith blades were bad. But from where did you get that memory?"
"Have you noticed me speaking to empty air? The experiment with Endelómeríe was a success. I have managed to create something similar to Guardian Spirit. He calls himself Mel for now. And it seems that since he is bound to the item I am wearing, I have captured some of his dreams."
"That memory came from him, then."
"Yes. And that means that our new friend is either more wicked or less fortunate than we thought. Or both."
After three days of rigorous instruction in the Lore of the Wind, Elrond was satisfied with my skill and declared that I was ready to depart.