"I cannot surrender Isildur's sword to your keeping, simply because it is not mine to give," I firmly declared, before the court of Lord and Steward of Minas Tirith, Denethor the Second.
How did come to this? To answer to that lies in a little more than a week in the past.
Travel by air from Imladris to Minas Tirith had been swifter than even my most optimistic calculations. We had managed to cover about three hundred leagues in about eight hours. We had started in the late morning when the land was heated enough to form thermals, and we arrived before the sun had set.
The first part was somewhat difficult, we had to go on a small detour west to avoid the shadow of the Misty Mountains. On the other hand, that would make it easier on the return trip. Once we reached the Gap of Rohan, it became much easier, since we could use the White Mountains to the south.
And we were lucky to catch a good wind which bore swiftly.
Part of it was of course superior Elven craftsmanship, especially enchantments meant for sails.
The other was pilot skill and superior Elven reflexes. For someone who had just started gliding only three weeks ago, Ascarnil had become quite skilled. Whether that was because he had not stopped gliding since the first test flight, or because he took insane risks. But he was yet to crash.
Another thing was what Elrond taught me about the wind. The Elves had been using Lore of the Wind, much of which had been originally taught by Manwe himself, to sail before Man first awoke. I had learned just a very small portion of it, but still being able to perceive wind currents was a great benefit during the trip.
Trouble didn't start immediately after we arrived.
Once we landed, on the highest level of the fortress, and proved who we were, we were greeted if not with warmth, then at least with courtesy.
We were briefly received by the Lord and Steward of Minas Tirith, Denethor the Second. I passed the letter from Elrond. I didn't know what was in it, for I was more a currier than a proper ambassador.
The old man seemed distracted and weary, mostly uninterested in what was happening in the faraway North.
It was understandable.
He had enough problems nearby, being a neighbor of the Dark Lord. He did show some interest in how we arrived, but it was a short meeting.
Mithrandir was not in the city and was expected to be back in a week or two. We were dismissed and given leave of the city until we could pass a message to him from Elrond as well.
We were not idle while we waited for the Wizard to return.
Ascarnil spent most of his time with scouts and messengers, giving lessons on paragliding to anyone interested. One would think that he was doing that for years instead of for less than a month.
I on the other hand had tried to teach how to make more gliders. One problem was that for a difference from Elves human crafters were much more specialized.
Elven smith was also a miner, smelter, glassmaker, mirror maker, lapidarist, goldsmith, locksmith, clockmaker, and a few other things. But then my apprenticeship lasted about seventy years and it was one of shortest on the record. I could see how that would be rather impractical even for longer-lived Dúnedain.
Craftsmen of Minas Tirith, and probably the whole Gondor, gathered in what was called Fellowship. There were for example the Fellowship of Bakers, Porters and Doorwardens' Fellowship, and Scribe's Fellowship. In this city, there were twenty-eight Fellowships, although most were of little interest to me.
The Fellowships of Minas Tirith were guild assemblies; informal associations of workers with similar occupations. They lacked the monopoly after all one could do work in the city without being part of it if one had a proper license.
Still, they were very conservative. Which I found when I tried to induce the gliders.
The problem was who would make the frame.
Naturally, though it would be Ironsmiths' Fellowship, unenchanted iron was both too brittle and too heavy. Even steel would not be sufficient. For my own, I used Tathorang, which Men called Willow Iron or Fairy Iron. Unfortunately, it required extreme heat and cold in forging, as well as enhancements, which would be impractical for Man in this Age.
I think that historically famous metal bows of Numenoreans were made of it, but I was not sure. Anyway, their descendants could no longer make it so the point was moot.
Next, the best alternative was aluminum, which was mined by dwarfs, and then often sold as they had little use for it. I didn't use it because there was none available in Imladris at the time. It had become rare since the fall of Khazad-dûm.
Hopefully, they had some here, and someone who knew how to forge. Because the only alternative left was wood. It would work, and rather well, but gliders would be more fragile.
On the other hand, the Fellowship of Cloth Wright was adequate. Disappointing for descendants of the greatest mariner in Arda. But to be honest, Minas Tirith was landlocked.
Of course, that was not how I spent all my time here. I used my free time to visit my new favorite place, Rynd Permaith Iaur, the Old Hall of Books. Elrond's library may have been extensive, but after two hundred years I have read every book in it at least once. Yet another point in the theory that Rin the Elf was basically always me.
The Old Halls of Books was one of the oldest buildings in the city, being of the antique stone and wood architecture now almost extinct in the city. The Halls butted onto the base of the wall between the southern sections of the fifth and sixth levels and fanned out in a great arc.
I had learned that once there was also the New Hall of Books, which held the overflow, but due to losses by age and accidents, there were fewer books now than in the past, so it had been closed, and the remaining books returned to Old Hall.
In truth, there were a lot of empty buildings in the city. In that, it reminded me of Imladris.
Books in the hall were unfortunately not for sale nor could be taken out of the reading room, but they did recommend a bookbinder where I could and did buy some.
Mel was also with me. Having no weight he had ridden on top of the glider. To him, I had assigned a rather special task.
It started almost a week later. The rumors were the first sign.
Well, I suppose there were rumors before. And considering the method of my arrival same would have been about me.
It was just that I never really cared about gossip. Even when it would be prudent that I should.
So when I had suddenly been introduced, in a reading room of all places, to a lot of younger noble sons, I found it a bit strange, but I didn't pay much attention. Especially lot of them were not really interested in books.
First I thought it was some political, status thing. But then they showed interest in swords, so I thought they wanted one made by an Elf.
It was only when I was escorted politely but firmly back to the presence of Lord Steward, that I found the truth. There was a rumor I had Isildur's sword reforged and that I had come to Minas Tirith to bestow it to the rightful king.
Many things were said about the Stwerd. That he bore the ancient blood. And I could see it, the trace of blood that was shared with Elrond through his twin.
It was also said that his gaze could into man's heart, and read secrets from man's mind.
However, I was not a Man.
To his unasked question, I answered with truth. There was no point in lies. Once the sword arrived at the intended wielder it would all go public. There was little point otherwise. The main power of that sword was in its reputation.
That seemed to surprise the willy old man. Where was that I had the named sword or that I readily admitted it?
But he still asked for it, for safekeeping.
And so we arrived at that point in time and my answer.
"If not for me, for whom has Lord of Imladris indebted such treasure?" There was little to be gained by lying, and even less by speaking the truth, so I remained silent. Once he saw that I would answer he continued. "No matter, I can guess. I could seize it by force"
"You could, although that rarely ends well."
"You would know." A not-so-subtle dig about my rather notorious ancestors. Well, that alleviated my guilt about what I was to do later. Not that I had felt much guilt about it. After all, it was for his own good. He had aged too far fast. "But I would be failing in my duties as host if I had left you unguarded with such a valuable item. So I will assign sufficient numbers of guards so nothing unfortunate happens."
"If you believe it is wise, I will naturally comply."
Archer was waiting for me in the quarters that were assigned to me. He was in a form very similar to his Servant one, only made of flesh, white hair, deeply tanned, youngish looking for forty.
He was sitting in one of the chairs, next to the small table. The rooms that my hosts provided for me, were made for visiting dignitaries, and they were built with expectations that inhabitants would entertain visitors.
Considering that linked every door in them to the Otherworld, I didn't have to guess how he got here. Nor was I surprised. We had planned this. It was one of the reasons I came here, to open a path for him.
"You know, I have just been assigned a set of guards to prevent nefarious characters from entering my room."
He smirked, then paused and frowned. "Why do you need guards? Have you been attacked?"
"Not exactly." I moved and sat on the chair next to him. "There had been disturbingly accurate rumors about Anduril. I suspect enemy action. What better way to create discord."
Either that or my pilot has been talking too much to his new students. But I didn't think so because in that case, the news would have reached that old man before the rumor started.
"You may be overthinking things. Seers are far too common in this World. Something like the return of the rightful king would not go unheralded by signs and portents."
"True. On another note. Are you missing or dead?"
"Missing presumed dead. While volunteering to scout near the gates of Moria I had the luck to run into a band of orcs, and I even left some alive."
"So I am now a handsome young widower. Well, at least I will be once I return to Imladris and learn of your unfortunate fate." I sighed, running my hand through his hair. "I going to miss you. We won't be able to see each other for quite a while. I wish that we could set some way to keep in touch."
"Too much risk. We can't underestimate the protections and guards of Mordor. Any means of communication risk either interception or detection."
"First time we truly separate since I summoned you, and I have to leave face danger alone. I don't like it."
"It's a good plan. And you know why you can't go." The ring. Taking it or the ring-bearer, even contained by magecraft, into Mordor would either be desperation or high foolishness. And we did have another option. If Archer reached Cracks of Doom, he could open a gate into the Otherworld and I could follow. "In truth, I am more worried about you. I am going to avoid trouble, you seem to attract it."
"I am in a safe place. What could happen to me? You won't have any trouble sneaking outside the city?"
"No. Leave that to me. I have some experience in getting in and out of places where I'm not allowed to go."
I gave him a goodbye kiss and he left. Through the window.
The next night what I had feared for a long time had happened at last. The Anchor door had been opened.
And yet there had been no alarm before that. Undead guards, traps both mechanical and magical, none of them had managed to deceit intruder before it reached the Anchor Gate. Even my Kraken had failed me.
So much effort was wasted. Perhaps it would have been better just to bury the redoubt.
It fell to me to act. And what was even worse, I had no convenient way to contact Archer in an emergency. It was a glaring oversight, but necessary for his task. Any attempts at communication would bring too much risk. What I asked him to do was dangerous enough. So I will have to act alone. Against something that had managed to sneak past all my defenses.
But first, in case any intruders escape or communicate with someone outside, I couldn't have Rin connected to the Otherworld.
It was time for me to be Mercury.
It was fortunate that it happened at night since otherwise, I would have lost time to get my newly assigned guards to leave me alone.
The first thing I did was to use a transformation sequence. I didn't have any clothing in the proper size for a fourteen-year-old human boy, and whatever managed to sneak past all defenses I set up must be rather potent, so I could use a power boost.
When I transformed as Elf my clothes took the form of those I saw worn by Elves in pictures of Aman on High Days, but when transforming as Mercury, the form of my clothes too was more modern, yet similar to what one would wear in Church for Sunday Mass.
Same as when I first learned the transformation sequence.
That was even better. The garb that was utterly alien to this time and place should confuse the matter even more.
I shifted my amulet to the radio, and Larmo to the device. In device form, Larmo was less useful as a weapon, but it was better as an amplifier Mystic Code, containing five jewels, each attuned to one of the Great Elements and also channeling additional mana from the Otherworld. And more importantly, it would not be recognized.
Crown of Midnight I left on the nightstand. It did not have another form, and I was known to be wearing it.
Cid informed that the intruder was in a warehouse area next to the pool of black blood under the bone tree.
On the way, I made sure to grab all the charged jewels in storage. Seven of them. Bloodstone, sapphire, emerald, two rubies, topaz, and iolite I hoped that it would be enough.
As I approached the area where the tree was I saw the intruder. I was still concealed by shelves.
The white robes he wore made me certain of his identity. White staff confirmed it.
Well, there were not many who could penetrate my defenses with such subtlety and he was in the area. Although that was much more than just taking a look.
I was a bit apprehensive. What I knew of Istari they were equivalent to a Divine Spirit in human-like hosts. So, at least powerful a high-class Servant. From what I remembered, Mithrandir plummeted into the abyss, and after landing into the water on what would be terminal velocity still had the stamina to fight a Balrog for seven days, up the stairs from root to the top of a mountain, and win. Dying only afterward.
On the other hand, Curumo died from an ordinary knife wound. But that was after he lost most of his powers. I couldn't count on it.
I was used to having Archer with me when fighting an opponent on that level.
His back was to me and had a sudden urge to strike without warning. He was too close to the ring.
Tricky ring. Even contained it was still trouble.
Annoying but I will have to take a high road. I would not strike first. I would offer him every chance to leave peacefully.
I had a choice to make. To wait and see what he would do. Or talk to him.
Both approaches had their advantages and disadvantages.
If went to talk to him, I could perhaps persuade him to leave peacefully. Or we could end fighting. Or perhaps he could convince me to surrender the ring to him.
If I just watched, he may leave by his own accord. Or he may find the ring.
A hard decision to make. But I could delay it until I saw which batter suited my purpose.
I split the timeline. One of me hid, to observe. Other me calmly walked to the wizard. And yet both of them were me at the same time. I was hiding and watching and I was calmly walking towards the Wizard.
Two versions of the same event, equally true, equally false. Until I made a decision. Whether to hide or to approach. It was common sense for a decision to come before the outcome. But that was not true when I used True Magic.
It was much easier to do it here. But there was a strange side-effect that I observed from the perspective of my hidden self. There was a translucent shadow that I saw that walked the same path other me was taking. The only theory I had was that divided timelines bled into one another here. An effect I would be exploring when I have more time.
There was much of the True Magic that I wielded that remained unknown to me even after all this time. It started with the insight I gained at the very threshold of Root. In that precise moment that insight had been self-evident truth, but once returned it had become something I could not truly comprehend. A Truth that belonged to a higher realm. But it was also something I could never forget.
And so I could only poke it and then examine the effects, trying to comprehend what it meant. It was much like that parable about a group of blind men and an elephant. It goes like this.
A group of blind men heard that a strange animal, called an elephant, had been brought to the town, but none of them were aware of its shape and form. Out of curiosity, they said: "We must inspect and know it by touch, of which we are capable". So, they sought it out, and when they found it they groped about it. The first person, whose hand landed on the trunk, said, "This being is like a thick snake". For another one whose hand reached its ear, it seemed like a kind of fan. As for another person, whose hand was upon its leg, said, that the elephant is a pillar like a tree-trunk. The blind man who placed his hand upon its side said the elephant, "is a wall". Another who felt its tail, described it as a rope. The last felt its tusk, stating the elephant is that which is hard, smooth and like a spear.
But first I have to be someone else. Someone who dwelled in this place, perhaps willingly, and perhaps trapped, ever since the Elder days.
Not a Man, not an Elf. Perhaps a peer to my visitor or something even stranger.
Fortunately, I was a very good liar.
One of me, one that would talk crushed the ruby in his hand, and absorbed glittering sparks. The spell to make me more regal, more beautiful, more charismatic. The gems had been always used for such purposes, and rubies were symbols of kingship.
One of me, who would watch, crushed the iolite, letting the dust flow into my eyes. Iolite was taught in the Department of Mineralogy as being a stone that strengthened one's spiritual perception, and there are tales of it being used in place of a compass on ships in the Scandinavian sagas. This spell greatly increased both my eyesight and my spiritual perception.
"Do you like it?" I asked, adding a trace of enchantment to my voice. It was a trick I learned from listening to him. I wonder how he was resistant to it. "I don't have many visitors to ask. For some reason, most don't like this place."
Slowly he turned around. Here in this eldritch space, the concealed truth of him was made manifest. It shined from within. The wrinkles had become cracks here and I could see the celestial fire burning in the prison of false mortal flesh. There was also a hint of wariness on his ancient face, but none in his voice when he spoke. "Perhaps the reason is that it drives Men insane."
"Really?" I knew that the Otherworld was something of a drain on sanity. Prolonged exposure resulted in losing time, hallucinations, nightmares, and strange inspirations. That tree was one result of spending too much in the Otherworld. Originally I had planned to make a simple fountain… of blood, made of bone. Not that simple then. But the process of driving one utterly mad took time. Short exposures were just mildly unpleasant. Even longer exposures were easy to recover from. At least for me, and Archer. "But how do you know? Did you bring Man here?"
Flinch. Just a little flinch and I knew that I was right. Has he become easier to read? Or was this the effect of the Otherworld? Here Seen and Unseen mix freely.
"That is most unfortunate. You have my condolences," I said, "I would still like to hear your opinion about my work?"
"What is there to say? It is a mockery and an abomination. But I have not come here for it."
In the other possibility, the White Wizards had begun the assault on the bone tree. With a Word, he had split the trunk. Black blood gushed out from the wound.
I remained hiding. That would be not enough to cause any permanent damage to my creation.
And in the other possibility, I continued our conversation as if nothing happened. Because from that perspective nothing did.
"Harsh words. But I did ask for your opinion. But for what reason have you entered my domain? I'm not in the habit of issuing invitations to it. And those few I did had all been refused. Wise of them, I suspect. This place is not kind to those that are not native to it."
"So you claim to be master of these halls?"
"They were given to me, yes."
"But not its maker."
In another version, gushing black blood concealed a damaged part of the tree, hiding the wound from the view, and when it stopped flowing tree was whole again.
"No, that would be beyond my skill. At least for now. But I have learned much from it. And it allowed me to craft wonders, like that." I pointed at the bone tree. At that moment the spider crawled from the tree's canopy. "Look. It is happening again." The spider bit the trunk of the bone tree. "I still don't know why it is doing that. It could just feed from the pool." Even Cid who puppeted that corpse doll had no idea why it did it.
When it happened the first time I was worried. Well, not exactly the first time it happened, the first I saw it. The first time it actually happened I had been too busy to notice. I had been assisting this Wizard in reforging a sword, so I didn't visit the Otherworld for a length of time.
By that time the venom in spider fangs, which was a liquid version of Spider's Kiss curse, had infected the tree, and blood that it created. And from that blood, it spread into all animated corpses that used it as fuel.
Body fluid infused with magical energy was near the perfect environment for the curse to self-replicate.
Fortunately, for it to properly catalyze into its destructive form, it needed two things that these simple undead lacked: soul and life In a way it was better than I used Cid to pupped my undead legion. Well barely of a centuria really, there was not enough of them for a legion.
In another timeline, the Wizard took out the short metal tube, pointed it at the bone tree, and from the tube came a spay of liquid fire. It clung to the trunk of the tree burning. The eyes were first to go. The bone cracked and fire climbed upwards.
If that continued, the spider would be revealed.
I knew then I had to act. And act decisively.
With a sacrifice of topaz, I created a gust of wind that struck at both spirit and flesh and used it to hurl the Wizard into in fire he had started.
With a sacrifice of bloodstone, I rose the blood from the pool upwards in a twister. Trying to both quench the flames and drown the Wizard.
"It is obscene to recreate such horror," he said in another timeline, "But it is not why I am here. By authority bestowed upon me, I charge you to answer these questions nothing but a truth." And with those words, his voice began to echo and he seemed to grow in stature and brightness. "Celebrimbor. Do you know him? Is he here? Was he ever here?"
His words with like hooks boring into me and ragging out the truth. Perhaps I could have resisted, but I had little reason to do. Compelling truth would profit him a little if he didn't what questions to ask. "I am acquainted with the ring maker. He is not here. He never visited this place, but we met briefly at the top of the hill."
In another timeline, the Wizard walked from the storm of blood and fire without even smudging on his pristine white clothes. He spoke and his voice thundered, "Who dares!?"
While in another possibility his words were calmer, but no less demanding, "And did have a ring?"
To one, I had nothing to say. He was the one who sneaked into my place and set my things on fire. Time for words was over. So I bought forth mercury. I bought it as the cloud of unseen poison. I brought it as a silvery rain of cutting blades. I brought it as a razor-sharp whip.
And to the other, I answered, "Yes. He used it to steal one of the Sauron's favorite slaves."
After all, we were having a civil discussion.
Not like the other timeline, where he parried my whip with his staff. Even though the whip I formed over the antenna of the radio could part both stone and metal it made not a scratch on his white staff. Deadly rain the wizard tried to stop with his will alone, but my authority over mercury superseded his magic, so he was forced to take cover behind a collapsible shield. And gaseous mercury he didn't stop at all, but I was yet to see any visible effect.
It came to melee combat. Whip against staff.
From time to time he would bring varied devices from time, each unique, each dangerous.
I countered with magecraft. Sometimes successful, often not. When I failed I would use it to heal myself.
In another timeline, we battled with words, lies, and deceptions.
"And where is the ring now?" There was naked hunger in his voice.
"With him, I suppose. He left with it."
"And you let him keep it?" He didn't bother to hide his disbelief at the very notion.
"Yes," I simply said, then I added as an explanation, "This is the self-evident truth. To alter the World from its course one has to pour yourself into it. The ring binds spent essence to its wielder. But the price of that is that now that belongs to the ring. All power demands sacrifice. One can pay immediately or one can pay it later. Later comes with interest."
"It is good that I do not share your cowardice. In proper hands, it would do much good."
"That I wish you luck in your quest." If he was to seek Celebrimbor he was sure to need it. "If it would help, both he and Talion sought vengeance. It was one thing that truly united them."
"Talion?"
"A Man his spirit was bound to. One forever dying, one long dead. One bound to Ea, another longing to leave. And yet through Black Art and even the blackest hatred, they are forever bound on a threshold between life and death. Be careful when approaching them. I am not sure, but as long as they are together I believe that they cannot be slain. At least not permanently. That makes them reckless. And persistent."
"Before I take my leave, one me thing. You have been most helpful so I am offering you advice. The world is changing. Age of Man is beginning. And Men need guidance. There could be a place for you in the new order. But to gain that place you would need to earn it. For now, just think about it."
And with that, he turned went towards the door.
"I will instruct my servants to let you pass," I called to his back.
"No need," he replied. "They did not see coming. They won't see me leave."
That was a threat.
Still, I was more satisfied with this conclusion than with the other.
Because that battle was still ongoing. Perhaps I could win. But it would cost time and resources and I needed to be back in Minas Tirith before I was missed.
So I finally made a choice. My talk with the wizard became history and my battle with the wizard was just a daydream.
I returned to Minas Tirith, assuming the form of Rin the Elf again.
Once I put Crown of MIdnight on my head, I could see that Mel had been waiting for me.
"Finally, you are back," he said, "I have done what you have asked of me. I have found out where Lord Steward is keeping the palantír."