By Zapper

Synopsis: Logan a former Navy SEAL left the teams to pursue work as a civilian contractor and landed a job working the Elite Security Firm. The Firm specializes in providing security to the rich and influential. Logan was hired to protect Molly Falk except that things become much more complicated when after a shooting he’s offered an unexpected position by Richard Falk (Molly’s dad) to protect Molly. Enter the Medallion of Zulo and Logan soon finds himself in Molly’s shoes, literally. As Molly and Logan try to adjust the terrorists attack and they are forced to use an artifact to escape to the Falk estate. Finding themselves in a new world Molly and Logan are soon caught up in events in Nevrast as Morgoth attempts to destroy the remaining Elves in that land. War has come to Nevrast can Molly and Logan survive and return to earth?

Author Note:

1: This story is based on the Altered Fates Universe concept established by Jennifer Adams, however I’ve taken some artistic liberties so this story doesn’t strictly adhere to the rules Jennifer established.

2: This is also a fanfic of the J.R.R. Tolkien world of Middle Earth in an untold tale of the First Age. Please note; I didn’t stay completely true to the Middle Earth that Tolkien set up. This is my take on what Middle Earth in the First Age might have been like.

3: I want to send a big thank you to Eric for beta reading and offering plot ideas and Mr. 20' Biceps for reading my drafts and giving me sound advice proofreading! This story is much better because of their efforts!

Logan was bored. Boredom was a part of his profession and was something he’d gotten used to during his time with the Teams. He grinned ruefully, yep, on the teams it was generally hours of boredom, followed by minutes of sheer adrenaline pumping action, and then more boredom. ‘Some things never change, and some things do,’ Logan thought. He scanned the parking lot from the driver’s seat of his black SUV. Logan had left the U.S. Navy about a year ago, and it had been one of the hardest decisions he’d ever made. Being a Navy SEAL had been a dream come true, he’d loved the action and the camaraderie, but the job had taken its toll. Logan had lost friends in battle and had knee surgery after tearing the ACL in his left knee during a training HALO (high altitude low opening) jump. There is a reason why there are so few ‘old’ SEALs on the teams, so after eight years Logan had decided to get out.

Just then Logan spotted Molly walking out of the athletic facility. Molly was the only daughter of Richard Falk and it was his job to protect her. Molly was a senior at the University of Michigan and played on the women’s varsity tennis team. She was a tall athletic red head and if Logan wasn’t getting paid to protect her he’d have asked her out. At the moment Logan was trying to be discrete as he watched Molly make her way to her Mercedes.

Then it happened. A plain white van jumped the curb between the parking lot and the street and screeched to a halt behind Molly’s car. The sliding door flew open and two men jumped out heading straight for Molly. Logan acted without hesitation. He pushed the emergency button on the small fob like device he wore around his neck and threw the SUV into gear punching down on the accelerator. The device around Logan’s neck only looked like a key fob. It sent a signal to the company Logan worked for alerting them to the fact that Logan had an emergency situation.

One of the two men grabbed Molly by the arm, but before the other guy could get a grip on her Molly swung her gym bag at him aiming for his groin. Unfortunately she missed. He twisted to one side avoiding the bag, but it slowed him down. The first attacker, who had Molly by the arm, lifted his hand to backhand her when Logan crashed all five thousand pounds of his armored SUV into the driver’s side of the van. Even though he’d only been doing twenty miles per hour on impact the force pushed the van into Molly’s Mercedes and the car parked next to Molly. This wedged the van in place and trapped the driver. Logan was out and moving before the two terrorists trying to grab Molly understood what was going on.

Back on the teams Logan would have just drawn his M9 and shot these clowns but in the civilian world the ROE (rules of engagement) was different. The guy Molly had slowed down with her bag turned to confront Logan in time to take both projectiles from Logan’s Taser in the chest. The man dropped to the ground twitching spasmodically as 300kV hit him.

Logan looked over at the terrorist who’d been holding Molly and saw that he had one arm around her waist and in his other hand he was now holding a semi-auto, pressed into her temple. Logan dropped the Taser and drew his Beretta 96A while moving forward into a classic Weaver stance. He activated the LaserMax and spotted the green dot. Logan adjusted his aim slightly, putting the dot in the center of the terrorist’s forehead. However, Logan hesitated, the military used the Beretta 92 9mm, because Logan was now a civilian he could pick his weapon and he’d gone with the 96A because of the greater knock down power of the .40. This wasn’t what caused Logan to hesitate. If he shot the would-be kidnapper and the guy convulsed while dying he might squeeze the trigger. With the gun pressed to Molly’s head even this terrorist puke couldn’t miss. Logan’s job was to protect her so at the moment he couldn’t risk the shot.

“Back off or she’s dead!”

The accent was middle-eastern confirming for Logan this was the group that had been threatening Mr. Falk and his family for over a year now. Suddenly, Molly moved, ducking forward and away from the gun. This was all the opening Logan needed and before the terrorist could react he squeezed the trigger twice. The man’s head exploded as the rounds smashed through it.

Just then there was the sound of tires screeching, the guy who’d been driving the van had it in reverse and was trying to pull it out from where Logan had wedged it. Not waiting to see if Molly was okay Logan raced to the front passenger door of the van. The driver, upon seeing Logan, frantically tried to pull a weapon from his shoulder holster. Logan fired again and the passenger’s side window exploded as Logan’s rounds struck home.

Mr. Richard Falk was very wealthy, and from what Logan had heard, he’d made his fortune in middle-eastern oil and then later on by trading ancient artifacts. There had been threats against Mr. Falk and his family by a group linked to Al-Qaeda for over a year. After the first attempted kidnaping and the death of his wife Mr. Falk had hired protection from a private security company called the “Elite Security Firm,” or just the “Firm” to most of its employees. The Firm consisted mostly of former SpecOps guys recruited from all four branches of the U.S. Military for this type of work. Although Logan chuckled when he thought of the name, because the “Elite” part could also be a reference to what the Firm charged for security.

Logan slowly sipped his beer not really paying any attention to the buzz of conversation around him. Just before the cops had shown up another SUV from the Firm had arrived. Logan spoke briefly with Molly before the cops took her for questioning and had been impressed with how calm and level headed she was. The police took her statement and then the Firm, using the second SUV, had taken Molly home. Meanwhile Logan had to go downtown to make his statement. His gun and Taser had been taken by the police as evidence and Logan had been allowed to go home. The next day Logan’s supervisor explained that he was now on “administrative” leave. It was all part of the Firm’s SOP. Logan would be off for a few days and then have to go through a series of counseling sessions to make sure he didn’t have PTSD from the shooting. Once the police had cleared him of any wrong doing and the Doctors gave him a clean bill of health he’d be allowed to return to work.

“What a bunch of crap!” Logan muttered, staring morosely into his half empty beer.

“Logan Campbell?”

At the sound of his name Logan looked up and spotted a tall thin elderly man with dark blonde hair going grey at the temples. The man was standing a few feet away looking over at Logan with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Logan said and then something clicked. He’d never spoken to Richard Falk, but he’d seen him when he worked the estate detail. “What brings you down here, Mr. Falk, and where is your security?”

The man grimaced slightly and then motioned to an empty chair across from Logan.

“May I sit down?”

“Sure, as long as you’re buying.”

“Miss, two of whatever he’s drinking,” Falk said, to the bartender before sliding into the chair across from Logan.

Besides the expensive clothes, Logan noticed there was something odd about Falk. Most well-to-do folks would have been uncomfortable in a dive like this, the sawdust and peanut shells on the floor all by itself should have made him uncomfortable. But if it did, Falk hid it well.

“So what can I do for you Mr. Falk?”

“Please, Richard, after all you saved my little girl’s life yesterday.”

“Okay, Richard, what brings you to a place like this?”

“I wanted to talk to you, privately, first to say thank you. And although it’s against the Firm’s policy I’d like to offer you a bonus.” Just then a waitress showed up with a pair of bud’s and clunked them on the table before disappearing again.

“I won’t turn down a bonus, particularly since I’m on “administrative” leave.” Logan made air quotes around the word “administrative.”

“Good”

Richard took a sip from the bottle before reaching into his suit jacket to pull out an envelope. He slid it over to Logan who folded it and put it in his jeans pocket without looking at it.

“You said you had more than one reason for being here?”

“Yes, I’d like you to come over to the estate tomorrow for dinner. I’ve got a business proposition I’d like to discuss with you. After what you did yesterday. . . I read the police report, as well as your statement, and I watched the video taken from the University’s security cameras. I’ve never seen anyone do the things you did. I’m very impressed.”

Logan didn’t say anything. Instead he drained the rest of his beer and picked up the fresh one. In the back of his mind he was surprised that Falk had gotten copies of the police report and had seen the video footage. He was obviously influential as well as rich.

“Come over at six for dinner and afterward we’ll talk business. The worst case is that you’ll have a great meal and turn down my proposition.”

“Well, I’ve got nothing going on for the next thirty days and I can always use a good meal.” Logan replied with a crooked grin.

“Excellent!” Richard reached out to shake Logan’s hand. “Unfortunately, I need to get going before my security team notices my leisurely drive is taking longer than anticipated.”

Logan watched as Richard stood up leaving a one hundred dollar bill on the table.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, please keep an open mind.”

The drive out to the Falk estate was one Logan had made several times as part of the estate security detail. That is until he’d been assigned to the team protecting Molly. Molly had her own place so it had been a couple of months since Logan had been here. As far as he could tell nothing had changed.

Logan had reported Richard’s offer to his supervisor and been counseled that the Firm frowned on its employees taking side jobs. But there really wasn’t anything the Firm could do particularly since Logan was on administrative leave. The way Logan saw it, until he was cleared, he could take any additional work he wanted.

It was a beautiful day and Logan relished the drive since instead of a company SUV he was driving his private vehicle. The 1972, Ford Mustang Mach 1 convertible growled and the power under the hood gave Logan a childlike thrill, the same as it did every time he got behind the wheel. Logan slowed the classic muscle car as he approached the wrought iron gate of the Falk estate. Stopping next to the pedestal, that housed a speaker and camera, Logan reached out to push the button when a voice stopped him.

“Logan, this is Paul, you can head up to the main house your expected.”

“Thanks, Paul.”

“No worries, oh. . . . Nice work, the other day.”

Logan grinned as the gate slid open and he gunned the engine before driving slowly up the winding driveway. Because he knew that there were cameras watching, and since he knew the location of each camera and the guys doing the watching, he made sure to give them the bird as he drove by.

Logan parked his Stang in front of the large entrance to the estate and climbed out. Since it was dinner, Logan had decided to dress up, cowboy boots, large buckle, and a plaid shirt with a tan jacket. Probably not a sight the Falk’s were used to seeing, but Logan figured they needed to know who they were thinking about hiring. To his surprise Molly opened the front door before he could ring the bell.

“Mister Campbell, it’s so good to meet you, again. Thank you, for coming to dinner, and for your help the other day.”

For a second Logan didn’t know what to say or how to respond. Molly was wearing a black cocktail dress that started just above her breasts and stopped just below her knees. The dress was tight, expensive, and left little to Logan’s imagination. Coming to a stop in front of Molly Logan realized that she was only an inch or two shorter than him. Molly extended her hand as though to shake Logan’s hand, but he scooped her hand up and kissed her fingers.

“It was my pleasure, Ma’am, the other day . . . and tonight.”

Molly flushed a bright crimson clearly visible with her pale complexion. “I must say you’re more handsome than I remember.”

Now it was Logan’s turn to be slightly tongue tied, “Thank you, ma’am, you’re just as lovely as I remember.”

“A silver tongue to go with a handsome face, I think I’m going to enjoy . . . getting to know you.”

Logan grinned broadly at having charmed Molly, “I’m at your disposal.”

“Ooh, be careful, I may hold you to that!” Molly giggled slightly at Logan’s confused expression. “Please, come with me, Maria has set us a small dinner in the library. Oh, did you bring an overnight bag? My father’s dinners can sometimes go late and often involve large amounts of alcohol.”

Logan stepped into the mansion planning to follow behind Molly however, she had a different idea. Molly tucked her arm into Logan’s forcing him to walk next to her.

“Sounds like my kind of dinner.” Logan responded with a grin, “I’ll be fine. I keep a bug-out bag in my car.”

“A bug-out bag?”

“Ah, sorry, for the military jargon, a small bag with just enough essentials for a day or two.”

“Oh, why do you call it a bug-out bag?” Molly asked, sliding closer to him as they walked, and then she glanced up and over at Logan between her long black eyelashes. The move subtly displayed Molly’s cleavage and Logan had to tear his eyes away to meet Molly’s.

“In case I have to leave in a hurry, you know, bug-out.”

At this Molly giggled showing a set of dimples, “How clever. But you don’t have to worry about leaving in a hurry. After what you did for me, my father practically wants to make you a member of the family.”

Logan didn’t know how to respond to this so decided to change the topic. “Can I ask you a question? Do you always answer the door, ma’am?”

“Please, you saved my life, you can call me Molly. And no, daddy asked me to get it since he’s given the staff the night off.”

Logan met Molly’s eyes for a second. “Fine, I’ll call you Molly, if you call me Logan.”

That settled, Molly led Logan toward the library. Although Logan had the floor plan memorized from his time working security on the estate, it was pleasant to be led around by this lovely creature.

“Sort of ostentatious, isn’t it?”

“I was thinking that you have a beautiful home.” Logan replied trying to be diplomatic. The vaulted ceilings and marble floor was a little over the top.

“You have to understand. The men my father has had to deal with are mostly middle-eastern and they expect a certain level of opulence in their business partners or they wouldn’t think he was up to the job.”

Logan nodded in response. He had been on the estate before so this wasn’t new. What was new was that Molly and her father were taking an interest in him. Molly led Logan to a side door, her high heels clicking against the marble floor, and then up a staircase into the wing the security team referred to as the ‘family’ quarters. As they walked down a second floor corridor their footsteps were now muted by a runner of plush carpet that ran the length of the hallway. They passed one closed door after another until Logan spotted the portrait of a beautiful woman looking down at them. Molly paused seeing what Logan was staring at.

“That’s my mother.” Then after a painful pause, “She was killed a year ago during the first attempt on my father.”

“I know. It was in the background package the Firm gave me to memorize when I took this job. I’m sorry for your loss.”

At this Molly squeezed Logan’s arm, but didn’t say anything. Instead she started walking again and soon they reached their destination. Molly slid open a heavy wooden door and Logan noticed immediately that the air within the library was cool and dry, obviously climate controlled to protect the books. The size of the library and the number of books was impressive.

As he followed Molly Logan noticed that the room was circular and it had two levels with a high vaulted ceiling and a pair of steep staircases that would allow access to the main floor. Molly led Logan forward moving through pools of colored light cast by the stained glass windows along the far wall and then down the steep steps to the library floor.

“Is your dad a fan of American history?” Logan asked glancing at the scene depicted in the window.

“More like a student of history in general.” A man’s voice responded.

Logan and Molly stepped onto the hard wood of the main floor and Logan looked around for Richard. In the middle of the room a table had been set for dinner. It had several covered dishes, an open bottle of red wine, and an ice chest to one side with bottles of beer poking out of the ice. Logan could smell the delicious aroma of whatever was under the covered dishes.

“Welcome to my home.”

Logan glanced to one side finally spotting Richard Falk as he set a book down and stood up. Logan was again struck by the fact that although his clothes were expensive here was a man comfortable in any setting.

“Thank you, sir. All of this is appreciated, and unnecessary.”

“Nonsense, you saved my daughter’s life a simple dinner, to say thank you, is nothing next to that!” Richard moved forward and shook Logan’s hand. “And please, call me Richard. Come let’s eat before things start to get cold.”

Dinner wasn’t what Logan had expected, salad, followed by steak, potatoes, corn-on-the-cob, with freshly baked bread, and for desert a simple piece of apple pie with vanilla ice cream on the side. The whole meal had been set out in warmers and Richard and Molly seemed to find a great deal of pleasure in being able to eat family style instead of having someone bring them each course.

As the meal progressed Logan found himself relaxing, Molly and her dad weren’t what he’d been expecting, and Logan found that it was easy to talk to them. Once dinner was over Richard pushed his chair back with a groan of contentment.

“Logan, one of my weaknesses is a fondness for cigars. Would you care to join me for one?”

“Sure.”

“If you gentlemen are going smoking then, I’ll go freshen up. And maybe try something else on.”

Logan glanced over at Molly’s lithe figure appreciatively, before he followed Richard out a small unobtrusive door onto an intimate patio protected on three sides by a tall hedge. The patio had a set of expensive looking outdoor furniture and was tastefully landscaped. Night had fallen while they’d been eating but the patio was lit by a pair of tall wrought iron lamp posts. After the men left Molly walked over to the chair where Logan had draped his jacket and took it with her as she departed.

“Try one of these,” Richard extended a small case he’d taken from his pocket that held four cigars. In short order the ends were clipped off and the two men were puffing contentedly.

“Richard, I appreciate the meal, but you said something about a business proposition?”

“I’d like to offer you a job.” Richard said coming straight to the point. “But first I need to ask you a question.” After a minute when Logan didn’t respond Richard continued. “Have you ever encountered anything that you can’t explain?”

“Like a hunch or a gut feeling?”

“Yes, but more than that, have you ever walked into a building and thought you’ve been there before knowing that it’s impossible?”

“Sure, why?”

“What I’m getting at is the existence of forces and powers beyond our understanding.”

“Are you talking about magic?” Logan asked feeling slightly amused.

Richard had been looking intensely at Logan and now he looked away. “I’ll do anything to protect my daughter. I’d like to hire you to protect her.”

“Richard, you’re already paying the Firm a lot of money to protect you and your daughter. What can I do that they’re not doing?”

At this Richard glanced cautiously back at Logan. “I think that the people who want to hurt me and my daughter have many resources including large sums of money. I think the Firm has been compromised. I don’t know if they’re paying someone on the inside or if they’ve just hacked the computer system. But that attack on my daughter the day before yesterday was too organized and far too coincidental.”

Logan nodded slowly. “Something’s been bothering me about that situation, I think you’re right. Normally there are at least two agents on duty. My partner had a family emergency so I was solo. That was the first time Molly only had one guard protecting her in months. And there was a mix up with vehicles so I was late arriving on campus.” Logan’s mind was now racing as he replayed the morning’s events.

“Exactly,” Richard agreed.

“So what did you want me to do?”

“I’d like to disguise Molly and send her away for her own protection.”

“And you’d like me to go with her and protect her?”

“No and yes . . . I’ve acquired an object that allows a person to assume another’s identity. I’d like to use this object on both of you.”

“I don’t understand. I mean, I get disguising Molly, but why me? I’m not famous. The terrorists don’t know what I look like and if I’m not with her, how can I protect her?”

At this the sound of the library door opening caused Logan and Richard to turn around. The light from the library was much brighter than the patio and it was in Logan’s eyes making it difficult for him to recognize the man walking toward him.

“I’d like you to take Molly’s place while she goes to a resort in the Caribbean in yours.”

“This isn’t possible,” Logan whispered, stepping backward in shock. The man had stepped out of the light and Logan now found himself looking into his own face.

“Hi, Logan, don’t you recognize me?” The man asked using Logan’s typical crooked grin while hooking the thumb of his right hand in his belt. “I’m sure you recognize the clothes, they’re from your bug-out bag.”

“Who are you?! What the fuck is going on?! Why do you look just like me?” Logan said taking another step away from his doppelgänger.

“It’s me, Molly, and I can prove it.” With that Molly reached into her front pocket and pulled out a medallion.

“That’s impossible, there’s no way you’re Molly!”

Ignoring Logan’s comment Molly glanced at her dad who gave her a slight nod. “I’m sure by now Daddy has asked you about magic. Well, the fact is magic is real, and this is called the Medallion of Zulo.”

“That’s impossible.” Logan said getting angry. “Look I may not be the smartest guy in the world, but I know what I know, and what you’re saying is impossible!”

“If it’s impossible then how do you explain how I look?” When Logan didn’t say anything Molly continued, “If magic isn’t real you can prove us wrong. Put the medallion on and then hold this up to it.” In one hand Molly extended the medallion and in the other he held the black cocktail dress Molly had been wearing earlier.

Suddenly Logan was unsure of himself. He looked back and forth between Richard and the man who said he was really Richard’s daughter Molly. What if they weren’t lying? What if that cheap looking medallion could actually transform one person into another?

“I still don’t believe you. But if what you say is true, what will that thing turn me into?”

“As Molly said, it’s called the medallion of Zulo and it’s an ancient artifact.” Richard said causing Logan to glance at him. “After a considerable amount of time and effort I was able to acquire it. What it will turn you into depends on how you use it. In this case by touching it to Molly’s dress you’ll turn into a perfect copy of her. If you and I were to touch it at the same time we’d turn into copies of each other.”

“You want me to become your daughter?” Logan asked in astonishment his mind finally understanding what Richard had been asking him to do.

“Temporarily. Just until we figure out who’s behind the threats and plug the leak at the Firm. I’ll tell your company that I’m sending you on an all-expense paid vacation, as a way of saying thank you for saving Molly’s life. Molly, as you, will go on that vacation. You’ll stay here and pretend to be her. If they make another attempt on Molly’s life you’ll be in a perfect position to stop them.”

Logan glanced back at Molly who stood there silently holding out the medallion and the dress a look of challenge in her eye. “Are you afraid that you won’t be able to defend yourself without your big muscles and manly body?” she teased.

“I’m not afraid of anything!” Logan snapped back, “But I’m not interested in being a girl. Not even for a few days.”

“Will you do it for a million dollars?” The question was asked quietly but it got Logan’s attention.

“Come again?”

“I’ll pay you one million dollars if you agree to be Molly for the next thirty days or until we put an end to this threat, whichever comes first.”

For several seconds Logan didn’t say anything. Magic wasn’t real. Yet there was no way Logan could explain the fact that he was looking at his perfect twin. The guy even moved like him. Logan liked Richard and his daughter and didn’t want anything bad to happen to them, but what they were asking wasn’t possible and if it was could he deal with it? Then there was the money, in four weeks he’d make more money than he could in ten years as a bodyguard.

“Two million.”

Richard grinned, “One point five.”

Logan he held out his hand, “Alright what do I have to do?

Author Note:

1: This story is based on the Altered Fates Universe concept established by Jennifer Adams, however I’ve taken some artistic liberties so this story doesn’t strictly adhere to the rules Jennifer established.

2: This is also a fanfic of the J.R.R. Tolkien world of Middle Earth in an untold tale of the First Age. Please note; I didn’t stay completely true to the Middle Earth that Tolkien set up. This is my take on what Middle Earth in the First Age might have been like

Logan couldn’t help staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror in awed fascination. Dark red hair flowed down past pale shoulders and the large blue eyes had an innocent look that caught her breath. Logan couldn’t resist reaching up to run her slim fingers lightly over the smooth flawless skin. It felt surreal to Logan as she slowly touched her new dainty nose, then the delicate cheek bones and finally the small cute chin. Logan’s eyes were drawn further down to the twin bumps pushing out from the overly large men’s shirt.

After taking the medallion from Molly Logan had put it on and then wrapped the dress around it. Logan had felt a shock as soon as the fabric came into contact with the medallion and the shock was followed by a tingle throughout his whole body. He’d looked up to see both Richard and the guy who claimed to be Molly looking at him in fascination.

“Keep holding the dress to the medallion.” Logan’s doppelganger instructed. “You’ll need as many of my mannerisms and memories as the medallion can give you if you want people to think you’re me.”

Logan had complied, still a little skeptical, since nothing seemed to be happening. Several minutes slowly dragged by and just as Logan was about to ask if they were done with this nonsense a long strand of red hair fell into his eyes. At that point he realized that he was now shorter than both of the men.

“Oh shit!”

Molly stepped forward and tried to wrap his large hand around Logan’s now smaller one before Logan could let go. Unfortunately Molly was too slow and the dress fluttered to the floor as Logan held up his now delicate hands and stared at them.

“Damn it!” Molly said in frustration then glanced at her dad. “Do you think it was long enough?”

Richard looked at his expensive wrist watch, “He held the dress to the medallion for thirteen minutes and fifteen seconds. From the experiments I’ve done a full 30 minutes and he’d have had almost all of your memories and skills.”

“I know, daddy, we’ve already been over this, remember?”

“Yes, sorry my dear, so we were trying for fifteen minutes. Just long enough so that he’d be comfortable in your body, have your mannerisms, and some of your memories, but still retained his own skills and memories. At thirteen minutes? I don’t know, maybe it’s enough.”

“I-I don’t think . . . shit what happened to my voice?” Logan stopped talking mid-sentence as his voice cracked and changed. He glanced back and forth between Molly and her dad watching as they seemed to slowly get even bigger.

“Son-of-a-bitch, this is actually working!”

“Just try to relax and breathe Logan. It will be over before you know it.” Molly said trying to sound comforting.

Strange sensations assaulted his senses to the point that he couldn’t seem to focus on one particular sensation before the next hit him. Then there was a tugging twisting feeling from his torso and an unfamiliar weight began to drag on his chest. Logan reached up to touch the newly formed breasts just as he felt a tightening in his groin. The gasp was an involuntary reaction when he reached between his legs and felt smooth skin. Then it was over. Logan lifted the hand that he’d used in countless fist fights and stared at the slim, scar free, fingers with well-manicured nails.

“Shit, this is one sea-story none of the guys will believe.” Logan said as he slowly and experimentally groped his new breasts. Then louder, “I think I need to use a bathroom.”

“I understand completely, the transformation is quite shocking.” Richard said.

“You’ve used the medallion?”

“Yes, at first just to get a few years back and lose a couple of pounds. Then later I experimented with a few more drastic changes,” Richard replied with a strange gleam in his eye. “It has been very useful artifact.”

“What do you mean, it’s been very useful? How long have you had it?” Logan couldn’t resist asking.

“Just two months. I’ve used it to escape the estate and see how other people live, among other things.” Richard replied a little evasively.

“Daddy, let the poor girl be! Come with me Logan I’ll show you to the closest bathroom, if you’re having the same reaction I did the first time I used it, you’ll need to see the changes to really believe it.”

Logan woke up his head pounding and found that even though his head hurt he was laying on the most comfortable mattress, cocooned in blankets, with only the faintest ray of sunlight streaming in from the heavily curtained window. For a second Logan was very confused. The dichotomy between his pounding head and extremely comfortable nest distracted him. Then he realized the reason he had come abruptly awake was because there was someone in his room. The stranger had moved very quietly over to his bed and was reaching down to touch him. Logan reacted with controlled violence, he caught the wrist of the hand that was about to touch him and twisted it to one side bringing up his other hand to strike the elbow. As he did he realized that this guy must be huge because the wrist and arm felt very large and strong in his hand. Even as that thought flashed through Logan’s mind he brought his hand down on the elbow only to have the giant catch his wrist in a gorilla sized mitt.

“Logan, wake up, it’s me Molly. I was just checking in on you.”

The events of yesterday washed over Logan’s mind and he let out a soft, alien, feminine, sounding moan. “Oh, God, then it wasn’t a dream?”

“No, but after watching how much you drank last night, I’m guessing that you wished it was. I’m not much of a drinker and my body’s a lot smaller and lighter than yours. If I drank that much I’d have a wicked hangover!”

“Ugh,” Logan groaned again and relaxed back down into the soft bed. As soon as Molly felt Logan relax he let go of her wrist and moved away from the bed.

“Come on lazy bones. We’ve got a busy day.”

“What are you talking about? It’s Saturday, right? You don’t have any classes today.”

“True, but Daddy is having his assistant arrange for my “vacation” so I’ll probably be leaving tomorrow.”

“Um, okay, why can’t you just jump in the private jet?”

Logan sat up trying to ignore both the headache and the shifting weight on her chest. Molly pulled open the curtains and Logan started blinking at the sudden bright light that flooded the room.

“It would look pretty suspicious if Daddy sent a bodyguard, no matter how grateful, on a vacation and used his private jet. We don’t want to draw attention to me, remember?”

Logan nodded and glanced over at Molly, he had turned around and folded his arms over his new muscular chest. ‘This is so weird,’ Logan thought, looking at her former body. His hair was the dark black he’d inherited from his Italian mother while he’d gotten the height from his Scottish father. His face had a clean rugged look with a strong jaw. Adding to this was the lean athletic build he’d developed over the course of hundreds of hours spent in the grueling physical training required by the Teams.

“I never knew I was such a stud.” Logan heard a woman say and then realized he’d spoken out loud.

“I know, right?” Molly’s deep voice sounded delighted. “I think I spent more time looking in the mirror last night than you did! Before this, if I had to take a vacation from my life, I’d never have turned into a guy. But now, anytime you need a break from this beautiful body just let me know!”

“Hey, this isn’t a vacation. We have a job to do, yours is to stay alive, and mine is to keep your body safe.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot, Logan is all work and no play. Well, I may have used the medallion to hide from the terrorists, but I plan to enjoy this experience. You should loosen up a little and try to enjoy it as well.”

Logan just grunted and climbed out of bed feeling flesh she’d never had bounce and jiggle while her silk pajamas slide erotically over her sensitive skin. As it did Logan felt her nipples grow hard like a pair of twin hard-ons.

“You know I never really saw myself from another’s perspective, but I’ve got to say, my girl-body is hot!”

“Okay, you’ve checked on me. Was there another reason for your visit?”

“Yup, I . . . err . . . I mean MOLLY goes for a long run every Saturday morning. From your memories I know you enjoy running so I figured we could go for one together before I leave. Besides, while the medallion might have given us each other’s mannerisms and a few memories we should probably talk and establish some ground rules.”

“Fine, if you’d get out I’ll get changed.”

“Why, you don’t have anything I’ve not seen a thousand times.”

“Not from that body you haven’t, and I’m shy.”

“Bullshit!” The expletive burst out of Molly, startling him more than Logan. Before Molly could recover from his shock Logan grabbed him by the arm and led him to the door. As she did Logan realized how large Molly’s bicep felt in her small hand and knew that if Molly wanted to he could have stopped her at any time.

“I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Logan shut the door behind the now amused looking Molly and went into the bathroom attached to her new bedroom. Knowing that she needed to hurry Logan tried not to think about the tasks she was performing. ‘Alright, focus on the mission,’ Logan thought. ‘Just take this one step at a time.’ Logan moved over to the toilet and after a second turned around and sat down to pee. It took a minute of experimentation to figure out that instead of squeezing muscles she no longer had, to drive urine down and out her dick, all Logan had to do was relax and squeeze new muscles and the pee flowed freely.

Then Logan realized that if she didn’t think about what she was doing the actions just came naturally. She wiped herself dry, brushed her teeth and hair, and then quickly put her long red hair up in a ponytail to keep it out of her face while running. She returned to the bedroom and dug out shorts, sports bra, socks, and shoes, somehow knowing exactly where they were. As long as she didn’t stop to think the actions felt normal but then Logan spotted her reflection in the mirror above her dresser. The gorgeous red head in running shorts and sports bra was someone Logan would have asked out in a heartbeat. Deciding to grab a running shirt Logan turned to go to Molly’s closet and spotted something on her back.

Twisting to look at her back in the mirror Logan saw just above the small of her back, a tattoo of a sexy witch-demon. Logan had to twist a bit more to get a better look and was impressed with how flexible she now was. The sexy female demon had a slightly over exaggerated figure. Her skin had a very slight red tint, a pair of small silver horns poked out of her midnight hair. She was wearing some kind of black corset that looked almost like armor while managing to show off her cleavage and tiny waist. Her skin tight black leather pants were tucked into knee high boots. Her demonic wings were partially spread and she was holding a Kris in her right hand while her left was surrounded by what looked like a burning pentagram. ‘What the fuck?!’ Logan thought, ‘The magic was so thorough it gave me her tattoo.’ This caused Logan to wonder if Molly now had his tats. Last night she’d been in too much shock to look.

Logan pulled on a tight running shirt and returned to the mirror and saw Molly’s beautiful image staring back. As she studied her reflection Logan wondered what her measurements now where and then she realized she knew. She was now 5’10” and weighed 120 lbs. She had a lithe athletic figure with entirely too much chest, hips that flared, and butt that was far too big, as far as Logan was now concerned, even though yesterday he’d thought that Molly had a perfect figure.

“Boy oh boy, Dorothy you’re not in Kansas anymore,” Logan said, looking at her reflection. “Okay, get it together Logan. You’ve got a job to do. Mission objective one, stay alive,” after pausing for a moment to cup her new breasts in her sports bra Logan shook her head. “If it weren’t for these boobs it’d be a piece of cake.”

The morning air was cool and it hit Logan like a slap in the face. For the first time in her life Logan felt the sensation of her nipples reacting to the cold by becoming hard. Fortunately, Molly had already started running and was out in front without a view of Logan’s new chest or she’d have died of embarrassment.

Pushing down her discomfort Logan focused on jogging. There were so many new sensations that it was tough for Logan to pick out the strangest. First, there was the lack of equipment in her shorts. The familiar feeling of her now missing manhood as it moved with each step was gone. Instead the tight female running shorts fit snuggly around her bottom. Then there was the crisp air hitting her now much more sensitive skin. Although as her body heated up from the run this sort of faded into the background. Logan had always kept her hair short Molly however had long hair and it now hung down past Logan’s shoulders. The hair moved around quite a bit as she ran and was surprisingly distracting.

Then there was the movement of the new flesh on her chest. When Logan had been guarding Molly she’d thought that Molly’s chest was perfectly sized for her body. Now Logan was having second thoughts. Even with the sports bra her chest moved around far more than Logan would have thought possible. In fact of all the new distractions this was by far the most annoying.

Logan followed Molly about half-way down the driveway before turning left onto a running trail. The trail was wide enough for two to run side-by-side and Logan had too much of an ego to just let Molly lead. With a short burst of speed she pulled up beside Molly and figured that talking would distract her from the sensations assaulting her masculine mind.

“This is pretty weird, right?”

“You can say that again. Although, I’ve got to tell you that your body is in amazing shape!” Molly said, enthusiastically.

“Uh, thanks, I guess. But this is just a little run and we’ve only been going for five minutes.”

“Ha! Before I woke you up I went down to the gym in the house and spent an hour lifting. Yesterday, I could bench-press 80 lbs. ten times and 135 lbs. once. This morning I pressed 225 lbs. ten times and 365 lbs. once! And right now I feel like I could just take off, this pace is barely causing me to sweat.”

Logan didn’t know what to say. Molly’s gleeful enjoyment of his new body had just driven home the fact that she was now so much weaker. She knew that she’d lost a lot of upper body strength but hadn’t really thought much about it. At least this pace wasn’t giving her too much trouble. Molly was a college athlete and as a tennis player she had great cardio so Logan picked up the pace.

“In that case let’s see who can get to the boat house first!”

Not waiting for a response Logan sprinted ahead feeling very light! She may be a lot weaker but she’d also lost a lot of weight! Soon Molly pulled up beside Logan and then slightly ahead. Logan knew this trail, perhaps not as well as Molly, but she’d scoped it out for security reasons several times. The trail wound through the trees and up and down a series of small hills, as both Logan and Molly settled into the run pushing their bodies, Logan started to plan. They soon moved off the property belonging to Falk’s as the trail joined a public running trail that lead into the lake community adjacent to the Falk property.

Logan stretched out her stride trying to cover as much ground with each step as possible, while controlling her breathing. Molly was pushing the pace forcing Logan to speed up or yield the contest. Her lungs were beginning to burn and Logan felt sweat running down her back and between her breasts as she ran. As weird as the sensation was she refused allow her body to distract her or to slow down. Instead she pushed harder drawing on her new body’s reserves.

Then they came to a series of switch-backs as the trail climbed a small but steep hill. Logan poured on as much speed as she could her lungs now felt like they were on fire and her breathing was ragged. Logan put her head down and focused on lifting her knees and pumping her arms, ‘attack the hill,’ she thought straining. She passed Molly who was now also breathing heavily, catching him by surprise. Logan used her position in the lead to take the inside of each turn forcing Molly to stay wide if he wanted to keep up.

When they got to the top of the hill they could see the lake and boathouse through the trees. From here it was a quarter of a mile to the Falk boathouse and all of it was downhill. Logan gave another burst of speed and knew that she was pushing her new body to the limit. But the sound of Molly’s footsteps right behind her drove her forward. Then they were running side-by-side.

“Nice try Logan,” Molly said, as he blew by in a full out sprint.

Logan did her best to match him but Molly’s legs were longer and each step took him further and further away. When Logan got to the boat house she came to a stop feeling her legs cramp and doubled over gasping for air. Logan did her best not to throw up as a fit of dry-heaves knotted her stomach muscles.

“That was a great run Logan. Its two and a half miles from the house to here. My personal record was nineteen minutes. We just finished that run in seventeen thirty a new PR and I hardly feel winded!” Molly said looking down at his watch and then over at Logan with a grin. “How are you doing?”

“I’ll be alright.”

At this Logan straightened up and looked around. The view of the lake from here was beautiful. The pristine blue water glimmered in the morning sun through the trees. At this time of morning there were almost no boaters out yet so it was very quiet and peaceful. There was a fence around the boat house where the Falk’s kept their boat along with a couple of jet-skis. Since neither Logan nor Molly had a key they wouldn’t be able to go into the boathouse. After a few minutes they started the run back to the estate only this time they jogged at a much slower pace.

“I’m sure that you’ve got my class schedule memorized.” Molly said looking over at Logan, “I’ve cleared my social schedule for the next two weeks. So all you have to do at first is just go to class, practice, and come home. Hopefully you’ll feel comfortable enough to go to the spring formal in three weeks, although no one has asked me . . . err . . . you yet.”

“I doubt I’ll feel like going on a date as you in three weeks.”

“You might change your mind. If you decide to go I wanted to let you know that I’ve already picked out a dress.” At this Logan grunted in an unladylike sound. “We should probably set up some ground rules. Don’t go out and get another tattoo and no new body piercings!” Molly said, and then after a pause, “I suppose if you want to have sex you can. I’m on the pill so you need to make sure you continue to take them. Just don’t get pregnant or we won’t be able to swap back before you experience the joy of motherhood!”

“What?” Logan sputtered. She didn’t know if she should be shocked or offended. Either way her face felt hot with embarrassment.

“It’s the medallion. If you’re pregnant it won’t change you until after the baby’s born. So don’t get pregnant!”

Logan focused on her running for a few seconds before she responded. “I think I can live with those rules. I expect you to follow them as well, oh, and you have to promise to exercise five to six days a week. I don’t want to get a fat out of shape body back.”

“Deal!” Molly replied, with a laugh. “I’m sort of an exercise junky anyway so I plan to see just how far I can push this body.” After this they ran in silence for a few minutes. “There are some things you should know about Daddy. He’s a good, kind, man, but he’s still hurting from mom’s death. He’s turned over control of most of his business interests and spends a lot of time collecting artifacts. He’s sort of obsessive about it.”

This wasn’t anything new to Logan since it had been in the file on Richard Falk. By this time they’d reached the point where they left the public running trail and headed back onto estate grounds. For a few seconds they ran in silence each very conscious about the way their new bodies were moving, and both avoided bringing that subject up. Abruptly, a loud explosion ripped the air and through the trees Logan could see smoke coming up from the mansion.

“What the fuck!”

The expletive burst out of both Molly and Logan nearly simultaneously and they stopped to stare. Then the crack of automatic gunfire sounded from the estate.

“Daddy!” Molly exclaimed and started sprinting toward the house.

“Molly, stop!” Logan shouted and after a second of hesitation took off after Molly.

Molly quickly outdistanced Logan and she realized that Molly had been holding back during the race to the boathouse. Now he easily disappeared. Cursing profusely under her breath Logan slowed down. It wouldn’t do any good to get to the house and run right into the arms of whoever was attacking the estate. Logan slowed down even more as she got closer. ‘I won’t be much help to anyone right now, armed with a sports bra and a pair of running shoes,’ she thought grimly.

Logan changed direction slightly heading off the trail and cutting toward the security command post. From there she ought to be able to talk to the guards and find out what was going on. The command post was set up in the space above the garage. The garage was a standalone building housing a dozen cars. The Firm had added an external staircase around the back when they’d been hired to handle security for Mr. Falk. As Logan approached the complex she saw that smoke was pouring out of the garage and the whole upper level was on fire. ‘So that was the source of the explosion,’ Logan thought, staring at the building. The command post was wired to the Firm’s headquarters and they should have gotten an alarm. Local authorities would be on their way, but it would take time. The sound of more automatic weapons fire from the house drew Logan’s attention. Time was something that Logan realized the Falks didn’t have.

Logan spotted movement out of the corner of her eye and turned in time to see Molly stand up, having used a waist high hedge for cover and grab a guy wearing a ski-mask holding an AK. Molly put one hand under the guys chin and the other at the back of his head and twisted violently. Logan couldn’t hear the sound of the guy’s neck snapping but knew he was dead by the way he crumpled to the ground. Molly collected the AK and disappeared into the house.

“Shit!” Logan muttered and raced across the lawn after Molly. Unlike Molly’s approach Logan was totally exposed coming from the garage instead of the running trail. She breathed a sigh of relief when there were no shouts in her direction or bullets kicking up dirt. Again, Logan heard the sound of gun fire from within the house. Now she’d reached the terrorist Molly had killed and took a minute to look him over.

Logan quickly pulled the ski-mask off exposing dark skin, hair, and beard. ‘Probably middle-eastern,’ Logan thought, as she checked the guy for a pulse. He was wearing street clothes. Jeans, boots, and a black t-shirt; over the t-shirt the guy was wearing a tan SecPro Level IIIA tactical combat vest. This was “soft” body armor with Kevlar padding in front, behind, and under the arms. It would stop a 9mm round and was much lighter than the MTV (modular tactical vest) with the heavy SAPI (Small Arms Protective Inserts) ballistic plates. There were several magazine pouches attached to the vest via webbing and a pistol in tactical holster on the left side under the terrorists arm. Obviously, designed for a cross-draw, also on the front attached to the webbing was a Bowie combat knife with the hilt low and the blade high. This would allow the knife to practically fall into the guys hand, once the release was pressed, if he needed it. Cursing her new weaker upper body strength Logan took the time to get the vest off the guy. This amounted to undoing the buckles, unzipping the vest, and then getting one arm out. After that Logan rolled him over and out of the vest. With this was done Logan quickly put the vest on cursing the fact that it was too big and that she didn’t have the time to adjust the straps for a better fit.

Once on Logan drew the 9mm and did a quick condition check. With a full mag and a round in the chamber Logan flipped the safety off and, feeling much more confident, moved into the house. One of the first things Logan noticed about the weapon was that it felt much heavier than she was used too! The second thing she noticed was that the grip was a little large for her hand. Even though she felt better, now that she had a weapon, Logan knew she had to be careful. She wasn’t used to using a weapon in this body and then there were so many other little things distracting Logan. The vest rubbed against the bare skin her shoulders and lower back. The ammo pouches were in the way and pushed uncomfortably against Logan’s breasts. This made it more difficult to keep proper form as she moved from room to room. If she had to wear this damn thing for any length of time she’d need to do some major adjusting of the straps and buckles.

Then Logan rounded a corner and spotted two guys with their backs to her wearing similar vests and ski-masks. Logan opened fire, knowing they weren’t from the Firm. At this range it was almost impossible to miss. The first guy went down with a bullet in the back of his head although Logan was so startled by the kick that her second round went wide. The second guy started to turn as Logan brought the gun back on target. She squeezed the trigger and the round grazed the side of his head as the terrorist threw himself back. Logan continued moving forward arms extended in a perfect moving Weaver stance and fired again and again. Her second bullet missed but the third took the terrorist full in the face before he could get a shot off. Because they had both been wearing body armor Logan had been forced to go for head shots and her lack of practice shooting in Molly’s body had almost cost her!

Moving forward Logan saw they both were carrying AKs. She holstered her 9mm and slung one AK over her back while doing a quick inspection of the other. Wishing she had pants with cargo pockets instead of skin tight running shorts, to allow her to acquire more magazines, Logan had to be satisfied with putting one AK mag in the empty vest pouch and a fresh mag into the AK she’d decided to use as her primary weapon system.

Once done Logan moved forward again going slow and trying to think. Richard would probably have been in the family wing when the attack had started. If he’d heard the fighting he was supposed to go down into the basement below the wing. There was a vault there and the Firm had looked it over and told Richard that it would work as a panic room. If there was an emergency he and Molly were supposed to go to the vault and stay put until help arrived.

Logan made her way cautiously through the quarters. From time to time she heard the sound of gunfire but instead of seeking it out she continued toward the lower level. Once in the family wing Logan opened the door that led down and heard the sound of gunfire. There were two staircases down to the basement below this wing. One at either end of a long hallway so far Logan didn’t see anyone so she continued cautiously down. At the bottom of the staircase Logan peaked around the corner. Half way down the hall there were a pair of doors on the left. Using one of the doorways for cover a terrorist was firing away from Logan toward the door that led to the other set of stairs. Logan couldn’t see who it was at the other end of the hall, but figured it was probably one of the guys from the Firm.

Logan took a deep breath and then moved forward rapidly. Not running, Logan moved at a very fast walk, the AK locked painfully tight into her shoulder, her cheek pressed into the stock. As she moved she kept the terrorist in the rifle’s iron sights. By the time Logan was two thirds of the way to the terrorist, whoever it was at the other end of the hallway had stopped shooting. This caused the terrorist to inch forward to get more room for a better aim. It also exposed more of the guy to Logan. The sound of the rifle firing almost surprised Logan as she pulled the trigger. The first couple of bullets tore into the terrorist while the rest went high. Logan was startled by the kick of the weapon and at how much it wanted to rise when she fired it. Another difference between this body and the one she was used to Logan thought angrily.

Logan moved quickly into the room stepping over the dead terrorist body. She spotted three other terrorists ducking for cover as she stepped into the room. Logan stayed low and moved to her left and kept up a steady fire on the terrorist as she moved. The rounds went wide, but they kept her opponent’s heads down. Logan continued to move to her left while firing to her right. Then her weapon ran out of ammo. Logan took a knee behind a metal display case and reloaded, fumbling for a second as the familiar task felt awkward with her new, smaller hands. Unfortunately, the break in fire allowed her enemies time to begin shooting. The sound of bullets snapping and ricocheting around her was one that she was familiar with, but it still got Logan’s attention.

Then someone came through the door firing a steady stream of rounds and moving quickly to the right. At the sound of an ally entering the firefight Logan was on her feet and moving. In a flash she saw that one of the three terrorist was down and they were turning to focus on the newcomer. Logan used the distraction to kill one of her two remaining opponents. Working as a team Logan continued to flank the last terrorist by moving further to her left and around the room while her ally moved similarly only to the right. In seconds they had the last terrorist in a cross fire and he went down.

Breathing deeply Logan looked over to see which of the Firm’s agents had come down to the vault and saw her own face looking back. At some point Molly had stopped and picked up a vest like the one Logan was wearing only it looked like it might be a little small on him.

“God, I look hot in body armor.” Molly said, leering at Logan.

“Shut up.” Then after a pause Logan continued, “Have you seen your father?”

“No, I figured he’d either come down here or go to the panic room near the master suite. I took a guess and came here.”

For a second Logan cursed silently, she hadn’t known anything about a second panic room. Then Logan took a quick glance around the room. The hallway that ran the length of the basement, under the family wing, was on the north side of the mansion. The basement was divided into two large rooms. The one they were in and a second room that was sealed off from this room by a heavy steel vault door. Logan saw that very little had changed about this room. It was full of display cases and tables made mostly of heavy metal and ballistic glass. Each display case held artifacts from all over the world. While the firefight had caused some damage to the display cases the artifacts looked okay.

“Do you think your dad is already in the vault?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

With that Molly moved over to a key pad and typed in a pin and then just as he was about to put his finger on the plate next to the key pad he stopped.

“Uhm, I think you’ll have to do this, use your right index finger.”

Logan suddenly realized that while Molly had used his PIN it was her finger that would be needed to open the door. Logan pressed her finger to the pad and the light next to it went from red to green and there was a click. Logan could hear a hiss of air and the sound of a hydraulic motor as the vault door slowly swung open.

The room beyond was smaller than the room they were in and had far fewer items. When the door opened a light automatically came on and Logan saw that there was no one inside. There were a pair of shelves that ran along the walls to the left and right, while in front of the far wall was a desk and a pair of chairs. The center of the room was dominated by an arch made of some kind of black stone sitting on a raised platform. Half a dozen symbols had been carved into the arch and they vaguely reminded Logan of the Kanji she’d seen in Japan.

Just then the sound of boots running down the hallway caused Logan and Molly to turn around. They both backed into the vault using the protection of the doorway for cover as a terrorist came through. Logan caught him with a well-placed shot to the chest. However, right behind him a blonde guy, wearing the uniform of a Firm security guard, dove through the door and started to shoot. Logan and Molly ducked back, but Logan could hear additional terrorists entering the room.

“Shut the door,” Logan shouted at Molly. Logan tried shooting the blonde traitor, but the volume of fire forced Logan to take cover. Molly hit a button Logan couldn’t see although she heard the sound of the hydraulic motors closing the door. Logan heard one of the terrorists shout something in Arabic and then the sound of heavy bolts locking into place was accompanied by the feeling of Logan’s ears popping as the chamber pressurized.

Author Note:

1: This story is based on the Altered Fates Universe concept established by Jennifer Adams, however I’ve taken some artistic liberties so this story doesn’t strictly adhere to the rules Jennifer established.

2: This is also a fanfic of the J.R.R. Tolkien world of Middle Earth in an untold tale of the First Age. Please note; I didn’t stay completely true to the Middle Earth that Tolkien set up. This is my take on what Middle Earth in the First Age might have been like.

Logan looked up from the monitor on the desk and glanced at Molly. “This is bad.”

Molly looked a little confused, “I don’t understand. We’re in the vault and there are several inches of steel between us and them? What are you worried about?”

“They’ve cut the land lines from the estate. I don’t have an internet connection.” Then Logan looked back down and began clicking through a series of commands. In a few seconds she’d logged onto the estate internal security network and then she brought up the cameras in the basement and they could see the terrorists. Logan and Molly watched as they opened a couple of backpacks and started pulling out items that looked like bricks wrapped in plastic.

“It’s bad because the terrorists are in control of the estate and all of the Firm’s guards are dead. Except for that asshole, cum-sucking, son-of-a-diseased whore, poster-child for abortion, fucking shark bait, grab-asstic piece of turtle shit, traitor Owen Henderson.” Logan ranted quietly while pointing to the blonde guy assembling something that Molly couldn’t really see. “In addition to being former SOF, Owen is a demolitions expert. With all that C-4 I’d say he’s assembling a breeching charge.”

“You don’t think he could blow the vault door, do you?”

“No, but he won’t even try. He’ll knock a hole in the wall next to the door.”

“And then they’ll be able to capture us, won’t they?”

“No, because we’ll be dead.” At Molly’s confused look Logan continued, “When they blow down the wall they’ll create an overpressure in this room that will probably kill us.”

At this Molly was silent and Logan looked around the room taking in all of the artifacts before looking back at Molly.

“What is it they’re after? Maybe we can work some kind of a deal?”

“I don’t know, not for certain anyway, what they’re after, although I can guess.” Logan looked quizzically at Molly and motioned for him to continue. “I told you Daddy’s been collecting artifacts and while that’s true, it’s not the whole story. You see he’s been collecting magic artifacts, like the medallion we used last night.”

With that Molly turned and pointed to the stone arch in the middle of the room. “Shortly after the invasion of Iraq, Daddy was able to get several priceless pieces from the sack of the Babylonian museum. That was one of the pieces.”

“And these guys want it?”

“Yes, I don’t know everything, but I guess there was a cult that was responsible for guarding it. During the chaos in Bagdad after the invasion thieves were able to steal it. Daddy got it from the thieves at an illegal auction. It took the cult several years but they eventually discovered that we had it. They tried to buy it about two years ago. Daddy refused. You see he knew it had magical properties and was working on figuring them out. Daddy can’t resist a mystery and he started to obsess about the arch.”

“So these terrorists aren’t terrorists at all?! They’re members of a cult?”

“Yes, if Daddy had known that, back when he was first approached, he probably would have sold the arch. But he didn’t know who they were or how ruthless they are. Then after Mom’s death there was no way he was going to give it to them. ”

Logan looked at the arch for a minute before she shook her head. “I doubt at this point they’ll let either of us live. Even if we opened the door and offered to give them the damn thing, they’ll still kill us.”

“There’s a way out.” Molly said, looking at the arch.

“What are you talking about? This room is sealed the only way in or out is through that door.”

“I told you Daddy was into magic and the occult. A month ago he finally figured out how the arch works. He just needed the key, which he only acquired last week. You see the arch is a portal to other worlds.”

“Other worlds? Like Star-Gate? Shit, you’re kidding, right?!”

Molly shook his head, “No I’ve been through it with Daddy, once. I think I can remember how to activate it. Come on.”

With that Molly moved around to the other side of the desk to where a large metal wall-locker was rested against the wall. Logan hadn’t really noticed it before. Molly opened the doors and pulled out a pair of professional grade hiking backpacks on ridged metal frames.

“When we went through last time we used these. We talked about exploring further and had put together some gear for a longer stay. Then the cultists tried to kidnap me and Daddy changed his mind. We were going to explore the arch once things were a little safer.”

Molly handed Logan the smaller of the two backpacks and without a word Logan tried to put it on. However, she quickly realized that it needed to be adjusted to go on over the combat vest she was wearing. By the time Logan had adjusted the straps and put it on she glanced into the monitor and saw that Owen had assembled his device and was getting ready to mount it on the wall to the left of the vault door.

“Shit! We need to hurry.”

Molly was now standing in front of the arch chanting. Moving to stand next to him Logan saw that Molly had a stone knife that looked like it was made of obsidian in his right hand. He paused in his chanting and used the knife to cut his left hand and then looked at Logan.

“Give me your left hand.”

Without a word Logan extended it and Molly made a shallow cut on her palm. When Logan looked up at the arch she saw that the symbols were glowing with a faint red light. Molly placed her bleeding palm over the symbol to the far left. For a second nothing happened then the air within the arch started to become hazy like heat waves on a summer day. The effect intensified with the air blurring to the point that Logan couldn’t see anything through the arch.

“Logan,” Molly said pulling Logan’s attention back to him. “You need to press your hand on the same symbol I did or when you step through you’ll just be on the other side of the room.”

With that Molly moved to one side and Logan pressed her bleeding hand against the symbol. As soon as she did Logan felt a weird vibration under her palm, and then a steady buzzing filled her body.

“What now?”

“We step through.”

With that Molly picked up his backpack and the AK and walked through the arch. Logan was expecting him to disappear but was still surprised when he didn’t appear on the other side of the arch. Logan glanced at the monitor just in time to see the last terrorist leave the basement.

“Shit!”

Knowing that they were going to blow the wall at any second Logan stepped through the arch. As she did she felt a tingling sensation and a moment of dizziness and then darkness.

The cool breeze hitting Logan in the face was the first thing she felt as she blinked in the bright light. Looking around Logan saw Molly standing a few feet away grinning.

“I told you it would work!”

Logan spun around and lost her balance and tumbled to the ground. ‘I may not be used to my body but this is ridiculous,’ Logan thought. Then when she looked up she saw an arch that looked similar to the one in the Falk’s vault. In fact the air within this arch was still distorted like the one in the vault although it was fading. Logan slowly and carefully climbed to her feet using her AK-47 as a cane.

“What now? Does it go out or something?”

“When Daddy and I used it we didn’t stay very long, but the distortion faded after a couple of minutes. That symbol on the far right is the symbol for our arch in our world. You have to use this knife it’s called a “key” and each person has to pay a blood-price and then they can step through.”

Just as Molly said this an explosion sounded and a burst of air and dust rushed out of the arch. Fortunately both Molly and Logan had moved to one side so none of the debris hit them. Logan took a cautious step forward feeling awkward and off balance. There was something very odd going on but she was determined to see if the arch had been damaged.

Logan moved over to the arch and noticed that the air now looked completely normal. She reached out and ran her hands over the black stone, it was smooth and warm to the touch. Logan now saw that there were seven symbols cut into the stone. Four of the symbols, including the one to the far right looked kind of silvery. When Logan touched the symbol that Molly had said represented the arch they’d used she felt a slight tingle under her fingers. The three remaining symbols had become dull, tarnished, and pitted. When Logan touched one of these there was no tingling sensation.

“What’s wrong with these three?”

Molly had moved over to stand next to Logan, “Daddy, thinks that they’re the symbols representing arches that have been destroyed.”

Satisfied that there wasn’t anything wrong with it Logan turned to face Molly. “Where are we?”

Molly shrugged, “I’m not sure. Not on our world.” Then as if to prove it he jumped. Logan’s jaw dropped. Molly landed at least thirty feet away by a crumbling wall. Molly turned around to look at Logan grinning broadly.

“Gravity here is different. Lower. That’s the main reason Daddy thought this was a different world instead of our world.”

Logan realized her mouth had been hanging open and snapped it shut. ‘Okay, first things first,’ Logan thought. ‘We are now in a survival situation.’

“Did you and your dad do much exploring the last time you were here?”

“Not really, we weren’t prepared for a long stay. We’re standing in the ruins of some kind of watch tower or outpost. That tower was the only building and when it collapsed it took out half the wall. There’s a gate around to the left but it’s closed. We can climb out over there where the wall collapsed.” Molly said, pointing.

“Is there a water source nearby?” Logan asked, turning in a circle to scan the courtyard.

Molly shrugged and then jumped back toward Logan. The amazing jump was ruined when Molly stumbled on landing and fell over. He grinned ruefully and stood up, “We didn’t do too much exploring. We were more concerned about getting home.”

Logan took a couple of cautious steps and realized that the lighter gravity was causing all kinds of problems. ‘Alright just take it slow’ she thought. Logan made her way slowly toward a crumbled part of the wall only to have Molly suddenly land next to her and then stumble sideways into Logan and sending them both to the ground in a pile.

“Watch what you’re doing!”

“Sorry, but I can’t help it. This is fun!”

“Your house was just attacked, we were almost killed, you’re dad’s missing, and you’re having fun?”

Logan was almost shouting as she stood up and the second she finished her outburst she regretted it. Molly’s face sort of crumbled and Logan had the unique experience of watching her former face tear up.

“Oh, God, Daddy. Do you think he’s okay?”

Logan shrugged abruptly conscious of how her boobs were being squished by the combat vest and the straps from the backpack.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve worked his detail a few times and he sometimes leaves early for his downtown office. I think that if they’d captured him they would have brought him down to the vault to open it. So, yeah, he might have escaped.”

“Or he could be . . . dead.”

This time tears started leaking out of the corners of Molly’s eyes leaving twin streaks in the dust on his face. Logan moved to kneel down next to Molly and put her arms awkwardly around him.

“Look we don’t know that, alright? For all we know he’s just fine. Let’s not assume the worst until there’s a reason.”

Molly returned the hug burying his face in Logan’s chest. Stroking his former head to comfort Molly was one of the oddest situations Logan had ever been in. After a few minutes Molly pulled away and wiped his face.

“I’m okay now. What were you doing before I knocked you over?”

Logan stood up again amazed at how easy it was in lower gravity, “I was going to climb up that wall and have a look around. We need to find a water source if we’re going to stay here for long. Wood for a fire would also be nice, since I think we need to stay the night.”

“Why would we stay the night? Shouldn’t we just head back through in a couple of hours?”

“No, whatever’s going on back in our world, we need to wait it out. I’d suggest a full day. Assuming the arch is what the cult was after, they’ll have to move it somewhere safe to store it before sending it back to Iraq. I’d rather come out in a warehouse in the middle of the night than during the day.”

“You think they’ll get away with this?”

“Yeah, at least at first. The raid was really well planned. Owen must have been involved with the planning, I’m sure he’d have thought about how to move the arch. So, yeah, I think there’s a really good chance they’ll get it out of the country.”

With that Logan took a closer look at the wall next to them. It was old and covered with moss. It had also partially collapsed so it was just over five feet high. Putting both feet together Logan jumped straight up. She was shocked to see that not only could she have jumped over the wall but that it would have been easy. Logan landed in the same spot where she’d started and looked over at Molly and couldn’t help grinning.

“Okay, that was fun.”

Then with a smaller jump and just a little forward momentum Logan landed lightly on the wall. For a second she thought she might lose her balance but caught herself in time. The view from here showed a dried out ditch at the base of the wall. ‘Probably a moat when this place had been inhabited,’ Logan thought. Another fifteen to twenty yards back was a tree line with what appeared to be pretty thick undergrowth. Abruptly Molly landed next to Logan and almost tumbled forward off the wall, but Logan caught his arm.

“Easy there big guy we need to take it slow until we adjust to the gravity!”

Molly took a look over the side and gulped. The ground at the base of the wall dropped away sharply until it bottomed out in the dry ditch.

“Gravity might be lower here but if you break your neck you’ll still be dead.”

“Yeah, I’ll be more careful. So what’s next?”

Logan scanned the area and spotted what might have once been a road that angled toward the place that Logan assumed was the gate. Pointing toward it Logan said, “I think we should start over there and work our way around the ruin while we’ve got some light. The priority is to find water, after that some dead wood would be good for a fire.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

Then, without waiting for Logan, Molly jumped from the wall. Logan watched in awe as he sailed over the ditch. He landed in the grass on the far side of the ditch and then looked back at Logan with a grin.

“Show off!” Logan shouted and then jumped. The feeling of sailing through the air was marvelous and even when she started down it didn’t feel like she was falling as fast as she normally would have. Logan landed and absorbed the shock by flexing her knees. She’d been expecting a much harder landing considering she was wearing a combat vest and a backpack.

“This is amazing!”

“I know! I just can’t help myself.” Molly replied, with a broad grin.

They worked their way over to the road and Logan saw that it was now little more than an overgrown dirt track. At Logan’s suggestion they began circling the ruin by putting their backs to the road and keeping the ruin in sight on the right. After about fifteen minutes Molly spotted a stream running along one side of the hill. Logan sat her backpack down on the bank and looked over at Molly.

“What did you guys pack into these things?”

Molly shrugged, “Daddy did most of the prep stuff. I gave him a couple of sets of clothes, some extra boots, a few feminine items, and that was about it.”

The bank sloped gently down to the swiftly moving water and was reasonably flat, giving Logan a perfect place for exploring her backpack. Logan looked over at Molly. “We’d better do an inventory.”

They spent the next few minutes going through their gear. In addition to the weapons they’d taken they each had three sets of clothes, extra hiking boots, individual tents, sleeping bags, a couple of Army MREs, empty Camelbacks and iodine tablets. Molly’s backpack also had some feminine hygiene items including pain medicine and toilet paper. Logan had to suppress a shudder at the thought of using some of that stuff.

“I don’t think these boots are going to fit.” Molly said, holding up a pair of boots in Richard’s size.

Logan looked over and couldn’t help laughing. The boots were obviously a couple of sizes too small. “Your dad might be tall but it looks like he has small feet.”

Molly snorted in disgust. “Well, I think I can make due with running shoes for a day. I’m just glad the pants and shirt will fit.” Then he picked up the empty Camelback, “Do you think the water’s safe to drink?”

Logan turned around and looked at the clear swift moving water. “Probably, but drop one of these tablets into the Camelback after you fill it.” At Molly’s confused look Logan continued, “They’ll make the water taste like crap but they’ll kill any bugs.”

Molly picked up his and Logan’s Camelback and headed down to the stream. Logan repacked her backpack and then started to go through a weapons check. By the time Molly made it back Logan had consolidated the ammo and reloaded her AK. Molly handed Logan her Camelback and looked at the AK she’d slung over her shoulder.

“I’m down to three and a half mags for my AK and four mags for my 9mm and my knife. How are you for ammo?”

Molly grunted, “I’ve got two full mags for my nine plus the one in the gun. I’ve only got two mags for the AK plus what’s in the one that’s in it.”

“Well, if we’re lucky we won’t be doing any more shooting now.” Then after a pause, “When did you learn how to shoot? Your record with the Firm didn’t indicate that you knew anything about firearms.”

“I . . . ah, I guess you could say I learned by magic.” At Logan’s confused look Molly grinned, “When I changed into you I held the medallion to your jacket for twenty minutes. I’ve got several of your memories and skills. When the terrorists attacked, I sort of shut off the Molly part of my mind and turned the Logan part loose.”

Logan nodded, thinking about how normal and natural her body felt if she wasn’t thinking about it. She only felt awkward when she was thinking about it. Then she wondered if the magic would cause her to become more and more comfortable as Molly. Would she want to change back when the time came? Then Logan remembered that when the terrorists attacked she’d gone into full professional operator mode. In fact she was still functioning more as an operator than as a college girl. Logan let out a sigh and decided to think about it later and to just focus on surviving. While Logan had been thinking Molly started repacking his backpack.

“You know this is really weird. I mean I’ve never shot a gun in my life. Yet when I needed to know how, it was like I was watching my hands as they knew what to do.” Then Molly shuddered, “And the guy guarding the door to the house.” Molly looked over at Logan, his eyes filled with worry, “I killed him with my bare hands. At the time I didn’t even think about it, what did the medallion do to me?”

“It gave you the skills you needed to survive. I doubt that Owen knew that I was spending the night at the estate. But even if he did, he had enough terrorists with him on the raid to account for one extra operator. Instead, thanks to the medallion, he had two. I think the medallion saved our lives.”

Molly nodded and looked down at his hands, “Logan, I’ve never hurt anyone in my life. I killed that guy with my bare hands, and I shot four others.”

Logan moved over and put a hand on Molly’s shoulder noticing that he was shaking. “Molly, what you’re going through is normal. Most guys after their first firefight get the shakes. Just remember you didn’t have any choice. You didn’t ask them to attack the estate, and they killed several of my friends before we even got back onto the grounds. If you hadn’t acted the way that you did, you’d probably be dead right now.”

Molly nodded, “Yeah, I know. I can still feel that guy’s head in my hands. Breaking his neck was . . . easy.”

“I know.”

They sat there on the bank looking at the quick moving clear water as it ran by. In a way it was surreal. The setting was so quiet, so peaceful, and only a few minutes earlier they’d been fighting for their lives. The starkness of the dichotomy left both Molly and Logan feeling shaken.

“So what do you think we should do next?”

“Collect some fire wood and find a decent spot in the ruins to spend the night.”

“That’s just what I was thinking,” Molly responded, with a laugh.

Logan poked the fire sending up a small burst of sparks. It had gotten dark quickly so she was glad to have the fire. After finding water they’d returned to the ruin. Jumping over the wall had been amazingly easy. Logan picked a spot to set up camp in the far corner of the courtyard and had sent Molly to collect fire wood. The spot was protected on two sides but didn’t obstruct their view. She’d considered going into the ruined tower but then decided not to because it looked unstable. While Molly was gone Logan changed out of the running clothes she’d been wearing into the more durable hiking clothes from the backpack.

The weather looked clear so Logan ignored the tents and pulled out both sleeping bags setting them on the ground. She had no intention of climbing in unless it got really cold. Sleeping on the bag would provide some insulation from the ground and allow her or Molly to be up and fighting in no time if that was required. Because the courtyard was paved with irregular looking stones, Logan didn’t try to dig a fire pit. Instead, she found several loose bricks and made a circle with them. The dead wood Molly returned with soon formed a teepee. Some dried grass and small twigs formed the inner teepee. Next came small pieces of wood with larger sticks layered above. Molly dug a lighter out of his backpack and soon the fire was roaring.

Once that was done they’d spent the remainder of the afternoon exploring the ruins and getting a good idea what the surrounding land looked like. As far as Logan could tell the trees and grass were identical to what she’d seen back home. One thing that was very different was the time of day. It had been early morning when the raid had happened, yet when they’d stepped out of the arch they’d walked into a late afternoon sun. Once the sun was setting Logan and Molly returned to their camp site and dug out a set of MREs for dinner.

“What do you think happened after we left?” Molly asked looking at Logan from across the fire as Logan took a bite of the Chili-Mac.

“It’s hard to say. I don’t know if an emergency call made it out or not. Owen took out the CP first, but each agent had an emergency call switch. So there’s a good chance somebody got a signal out.”

Molly stared into the fire. “The second panic room has a direct line to the Firm. Daddy might have gotten a call out.” Then he sighed, “But it really doesn’t matter for our situation. They can’t come through the gate after us without a key. Also, there were a dozen symbols on the arch they wouldn’t know which one we picked.”

“Molly if you’re worried about them coming for us you can relax. I don’t think that’s high on their priority list. Not if they were really after the arch all along. If they know what it does, then all they have to do is put a watch on it. We have to come back through eventually.”

For a while neither of them spoke. “Are you going to eat?”

“How can you think of food?” Molly asked.

“A guy’s gotta eat.”

“Really?” Molly snorted and tossed his MRE back into his backpack unopened. “You don’t look much like a guy.”

At this Logan glanced down at her chest. The large bumps pushing her flannel shirt out were a clear indication that Logan wasn’t a ‘guy’. Molly watched as Logan continued to eat, the movements were well practiced and economical. This wasn’t Logan’s first MRE.

“This is no big deal to you is it? Fighting, killing, doing things most people can’t even relate too.”

Logan stopped eating and looked over at Molly. “If you think this is no big deal,” at this she gestured down at herself, “then you’re wrong. Until yesterday I’d have said that magic doesn’t exist. Now I’ve been transformed into the hottest girl I ever met and tossed into an alternate universe. No, I’d say this is a very big deal. I’m just trying to stay focused and stay professional. Once we’re home the first thing I want to do is get that damn medallion and change back.”

“So you think I’m hot?”

For a moment Logan just stared at Molly, “All of that and you took away, ‘Logan thinks I’m hot?’”

At this Molly laughed, “Well, I think you’re hot too.”

Logan shook her head in disgust. Then a look of concern crossed Logan’s face. “Where were you and your dad keeping the medallion?”

Molly noticed the change and couldn’t resist, “In the vault, of course, why?”

“Shit! It better still be there when we get back.”

Molly leaned back using his backpack for a backrest and put both hands behind his head. “Oh, I’m sure it’s fine. Besides, I’m starting to get used to this body. Maybe we should just stay this way.”

Logan glared over at Molly, “Are you fucking crazy. That wasn’t the deal.”

Molly started laughing and after a second Logan realized she’d been had and chuckled, “Okay, you got me.”

“Of course I want to change back. Do you think I want to be some big smelly guy for the rest of my life? Oh, and Daddy kept the medallion in the safe in his bedroom. So even if everything in the vault is destroyed the medallion should be fine.”

Logan let out a sigh of relief and scraped the rest of the Chili-Mac out before glancing over at Molly who was staring quietly into the fire. ‘This is the weirdest thing,’ Logan thought. ‘I’ve sat around a fire hundreds of times but this is the first time I’ve been able to look at myself.’

“You really should eat something.” Logan said, standing up.

“Where are you going?”

“Relax. I’m going to find a spot to take a leak.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Maybe I should come with you.”

“Oh, for God’s sake relax. I can take care of myself.” Logan patted the pistol strapped to her leg, “besides I’ve got this, and I won’t go far.”

“Be sure to take the TP with you.” At Logan’s questioning look, Molly laughed, “You’ll need to wipe when you’re done.”

Molly watched his former body walk toward the ruined tower and couldn’t help appreciating the view. Then his stomach rumbled and Molly figured he’d take Logan’s advice. Digging through the MREs Molly settled on a beef stew.

“I’ve got to say, roughing it as a woman sucks!”

Molly looked up to find that Logan had returned and couldn’t help grinning. “Oh, what do you mean?”

Logan grimaced, and then shook her head, “I never thought much about having to squat to piss before. What a pain!”

At this Molly started laughing, “I’d say welcome to the club, but I can pee standing up!”

Logan settled onto her sleeping bag and stared into the fire for a few minutes. Then she looked over at Molly, “We should take turns sleeping. Since you’re still eating I’ll sleep first. Wake me up in four hours.”

The slight touch on Logan’s shoulder brought her awake. For a second she stared up into Molly’s familiar face before the events from yesterday returned. Molly put a finger to his lips. Then he used two fingers to touch his eyes and pointed toward the ruined tower.

The fire had burned down to a few embers, but the moon was out and quite bright. Logan saw movement in the shadows by the tower and reached out to lightly squeeze Molly’s arm. Then she grabbed her AK and slowly rolled over into a prone firing position. All of Logan’s movements were slow and smooth. Abrupt motion tended to draw the eye, although with the fire there was no way that they hadn’t been noticed. Whatever it was in those shadows it was stalking them.

Molly stretched out on the ground a few feet from Logan AK ready. The waiting seemed to take forever then the shadows moved again and slowly the creature came into view. Logan felt shock run through her body. The creature had eight legs, a large head with multiple sets of eyes, and a pair of gigantic fangs.

“Shit! That’s a damn spider!” Logan hissed. As soon as Logan spoke the spider seemed to orient on her.

“It can’t be a spider, it’s too big!”

With a burst of speed the spider jumped. Both Molly and Logan opened fire. Logan couldn’t tell if she hit the thing and was forced to roll to the side when it landed right where she’d been stretched out. As she scrambled away Logan could hear Molly firing and knew that his bullets were striking home. The thing was as big as a large dog and from this range it was almost impossible to miss.

The spider turned toward Molly making a strange hissing sound and Logan switched to full auto and emptied a mag into the thing. The monsters death scream was odd sounding as it tried to turn toward Logan and then it just collapsed in a fit of convulsions.

“What the fuck!” Molly said walking around the spider.

Logan felt adrenaline hit her system and started shaking. Then from within the tower there was a strange sounding cry. The cry sounded far away, but was unmistakably similar to the scream from the now dead giant spider.

“Do you think there are more of those things?” Molly asked.

“I don’t think we should stick around and find out. Come on.”

With that Logan and Molly went to work and in a few seconds they’d packed up their gear and Logan kicked out the fire. By the time she was done Molly was ready to go. With a single leap they both made it to the top of the wall. Behind them and then heard another cry from the tower followed this time by several more each closer than the last.

“How many of them are there?”

“I don’t want to find out,” Logan said and then jumped to the ground. Logan moved forward in a series of jumps that ate up distance. She stayed close to the tree line until they found the remains of the road and then turned down it moving away from the tower as quickly as possible.

“Do you think they’ll follow us?” Molly asked.

“Probably, but spiders aren’t known for running prey to ground. They’re more likely to set a trap or take prey from an ambush.”

After a few minutes they had to slow down as the trees closed in and following the road became more difficult. Soon the trees had closed in to the point where they blocked out the light of the moon. This made long distance jumps impractical and slowed them down.

“What I wouldn’t give for a pair of NVGs!” Logan said.

“We’d better take it slow before we blunder into something.”

They could still faintly hear screams coming from the ruin and then Logan’s blood ran cold when she heard another scream in front of them. “Oh, shit. We’re probably in the middle of their range.”

“What now?”

“Let’s move off the road and find a place to settle in. Based on what we saw earlier I’m guessing these spiders are nocturnal. If we can avoid them until dawn we might be able to sneak back into the ruin and get home.”

With that they moved off the road. The trees were thick and the underbrush made it hard to move quickly. After a few seconds Logan realized it was now pitch black.

“Molly,” she hissed.

“Yeah,” Molly replied behind Logan and slightly to her left.

“Stay where you are. I’m going to come over to you.” Logan moved toward where she’d heard Molly, “Give me a slow count.”

“One . . . two . . . three . . . four,” Molly said quietly. It took almost a minute for Logan’s out stretched hand to encounter Molly’s broad chest.

“What now?” Molly whispered.

“We settle down here and wait. When the sun comes up we go back to the road and follow it to the ruins.”

“What if the spiders find us?”

“Then we shoot the bastards.”

They moved carefully around through the underbrush until they found the base of a tree and settled in under it. As they did Logan realized that she hadn’t heard any hunting cries from the spiders in a while. She didn’t know if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

Author Note:

1: This story is based on the Altered Fates Universe concept established by Jennifer Adams, however I’ve taken some artistic liberties so this story doesn’t strictly adhere to the rules Jennifer established.

2: This is also a fanfic of the J.R.R. Tolkien world of Middle Earth in an untold tale of the First Age. Please note; I didn’t stay completely true to the Middle Earth that Tolkien set up. This is my take on what Middle Earth in the First Age might have been like.

Logan’s first clue that the sun was coming up was the fact that she could now see the faint outline of the branches of the tree they were under. She glanced over at Molly and was pleased to see that he was still awake. It had been an exhausting day and Molly hadn’t gotten any sleep but he was still awake.

“We can probably start moving soon.” Logan whispered.

Molly slowly reached out and touched Logan’s arm and then pointed. Through the branches they could just make out the form of another spider. This one was a little smaller than the one they’d killed in the ruin. It was about a dozen feet away moving slowly stopping every now and then to rear back slightly testing the air. Logan couldn’t tell if it was tracking them by scent or not, but one thing was sure if it got much closer they’d have to do something.

Then Logan saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Slowly she turned her head and spotted a second spider. This one was about the size of a large dog and was easily moving through the brush. Logan brought her AK on line and waited.

“Now,” Molly hissed and they opened fire on their separate targets at the same time. Logan squeezed the trigger three times in rapid succession and watched as the rounds tore into the head of the spider. It collapsed to the ground convulsing.

“Move!”

Logan surged to her feet and was out from under the tree in a heartbeat. Molly was just behind her.

“Which way,” Molly asked? Then they heard a chorus of hissing screams.

“Away from that,” Logan said moving as quickly as she could through the thick brush!

Logan moved as swiftly and quietly as she could while trying to keep up with Molly. The weight of the vest and backpack and the need to constantly scan her back trail was taking its toll, even in the lesser gravity, as she felt sweat running down her back. The first few minutes after the giant spiders found them had been a deliberate dash and they’d had to turn around several times to fire on the perusing monsters.

“This way,” Logan had shouted, dashing into a thicker area of forest in an attempt to lose them. As they raced through the thickening trees the click-clacking sound of the spiders faded. After ten minutes they’d slowed down to the quick, cautious pace that Logan knew would eat up the miles. The light gradually got darker as the trees became thicker and thicker. Now they had to work to keep each other in sight while moving through the trees. Logan glanced down at her watch. The ladies Timex Ironman had primary and secondary clocks so last night at sunset Logan had set the secondary mode to 6 pm. Assuming a twenty four hour day and sunset and sunrise were twelve hours apart, which Logan knew wasn’t a given, then they were getting close to noon.

Just then Molly held up his hand, fist closed. Logan stopped and looked around, she didn’t see any threats. Then Logan shook her head in amazement, Molly was using skills she’d never had, before touching the medallion, as if she’d been through the same training Logan had. ‘Focus,’ Logan thought chiding herself, then through the trees she thought she could see what might be a clearing. She cautiously moved up next to Molly. The clearing wasn’t much, maybe fifty yards across, in the center a bit of rocky ground lifted up from the soft forest floor. At the crown of the small knoll was what looked like a single large boulder. Sunlight fell in streaming golden rays onto the boulder and even from this distance Logan could see what appeared to a glyph carved into it.

“What do you think?” Molly asked.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think it’s dangerous.”

The pair moved cautiously into the clearing and Logan could feel the hair on the back of her neck stand up. There was something very odd about that stone and this whole glade. It had a surreal feeling and the stone appeared to be some kind of obelisk or standing stone that had been forgotten by time and overrun by the forest.

“I think this thing is made out of basalt.” Molly said, looking closely at it before glancing down at Logan, “It’s some kind of obelisk.”

“Someone went to a lot of trouble to polish it.”

“Yeah, and to carve that glyph into it. I wonder why it’s here?”

Logan shook her head, “I’ve got no idea, but I’m more concerned about getting back to the arch.”

Alarmed, Molly turned to face Logan, “Do you know how to get back?”

“I think so. I’ve been doing a pace count. By my estimate we’re about fifteen miles from the ruins and the spider nest.”

“But which way? This forest is so thick it would be easy to get turned around.”

Logan snorted, “Molly, this isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve been pace counting and marking our back trail.” With that Logan touched the knife attached to her combat vest, and then nodded at one of the trees they’d passed as they entered the clearing. It was difficult to see from here but Molly thought if he got closer he’d find an X cut into the tree bark.

Feeling better Molly returned to looking at the obelisk. Logan just shook her head and found a place to sit down and shrugged out of her backpack. Then an urge she’d been resisting for a couple of hours became impossible to ignore.

“Um, I’m going to take a piss.”

At this Molly looked over from where he’d been examining the obelisk and flashed Logan a grin. “Enjoy that.”

Logan glowered at him and moved to one side turning around and dropping her combat-vest and unbuckling her pants. “What do you mean ‘enjoy’ that?”

“Well, I always hated having to bare my ass to take a leak when daddy and I were camping. I always had this weird feeling that something might grab my exposed parts.” Then as if to demonstrate how easy things now were Molly stepped to one side and without removing any clothes unzipped his fly and pulled out his schlong.

Logan looked away and muttered, “Asshole,” under her breath and focused on doing her business. Since she’d forgotten to pull out the TP from her backpack Logan used a bandana from her cargo pocket to dry her bottom, mentally noting that she’d need to clean it at her first opportunity. Once done Logan pulled up her pants, shrugged back into her combat-vest, and returned to where she’d left her backpack. Logan had learned the hard way, to never be separated for too long, from her gear, while in the field. Then she dug into her backpack, a drink of water and an MRE sounded just right.

“There’s only this one sigil on the entire stone. I wonder what it means.” Molly had returned to his examination of the obelisk.

Logan saw that she only had two MREs left, stew and lasagna. After a moment’s thought she picked the lasagna. It had more carbs and Logan figured she needed all the energy she could get. Particularly since they had to somehow sneak back into the ruins and use the gate to get home.

“Ouch!”

At Molly’s startled exclamation Logan looked up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just when I touched the symbol on the obelisk I felt a shock go through me and now your . . . err . . . I mean my tattoos are sort of tingling.”

Logan stood up and moved over to Molly and he extended his left arm. “Wow, check this out!”

Logan stared in shock. The tattoo was Logan’s first tat and was an image of a trident done in black ink his forearm. Now as Logan looked at it the tattoo changed, it took on a golden color and looked almost metallic. Without asking for permission Logan reached out and lightly touched the tattoo. It felt strangely warm and there was a buzzing under her fingertips. Logan quickly pulled her hand back.

“What the hell?”

“God, the one on my back is driving me crazy.”

With that Molly dropped his backpack, pulled off his combat vest and shirt. The play of Molly’s muscular chest and abs, in the dappled forest light, was somewhat distracting to Logan, but she forced herself to focus and moved to look at Molly’s back. The griffin tattoo she’d had tattooed onto her back before her second deployment was a colorful back piece that took up most of Molly’s back. Logan couldn’t help being amazed at the power and thoroughness of the medallion’s magic. If anything the tattoo now looked more colorful, almost as if it were a photo of an actual Griffin. Then, for a second, Logan thought the griffin moved its colors were so bright and realistic that once again she felt the urge to touch it. This time Logan stepped back.

“Let me see the last one.”

Molly turned so Logan could see his right arm just below the shoulder. The image of a Spartan warrior with glowing armor stared back looking like he could step off of Molly’s arm. The words “Strength,” and “Honor,” above and below the image were now written in what looked like metallic silver ink.

Molly reached up and scratched the skin where the warrior stood. “These things are driving me crazy.”

“Does it hurt?”

As she asked the question Logan couldn’t resist touching the word ‘Honor.’ That same buzzing she’d felt before returned and almost as if in a daze she heard Molly say, “No, it’s just annoying.”

Almost involuntarily Logan looked over at the obelisk. The sigil stood out like a beacon and without thinking about it she moved toward it. The symbol seemed to glow with a silver light in Logan’s mind and she could feel it, calling to her.

“Logan, what are you doing?” Molly’s voice carried more amusement than alarm. “I wouldn’t touch that thing.”

Then Logan watched as her small fingers reached out brushing the sigil. As soon as she made contact she felt a spark and then it was like she was attached and couldn’t let go. Something flowed into her, like she was an empty vessel and the obelisk was full of water. The water rushed into her, filling her, and then she felt the tattoo at the small of her back stir. Logan sensed it sort of move, almost as if it were stretching, and then it seemed to respond to the rushing water absorbing it as quickly as the obelisk poured it into her.

Suddenly a strong pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her away causing her to loose contact with the sigil. All at once the world came rushing back to Logan. On the one hand she was relieved to be away from the stone, it was obviously more than it appeared. Yet there was a part of her that missed the connection, missed the rush of . . . something.

“Are you okay?”

Logan turned to look at Molly, “Yeah, why?”

“Why? Because you’ve been standing there touching that symbol for fifteen minutes! I’ve been talking to you and you acted like you couldn’t hear me. I finally figured I had to pull you away.”

“Wow, really, fifteen minutes? It felt like I’d only touched it for a few seconds.”

Then Logan reached behind her to rub the itch at the small of her back. At this Molly chuckled, “Is it itching now?”

“Yeah, shit, why does my back feel like I’ve been rolling in poison ivy?”

“Something about that obelisk reacted to our tattoos. Mine have stopped itching.”

“Damn, so this will go away?”

“If yours does the same thing mine did. Hey, let me see it.”

Logan unbuckled her vest and dropped it to the ground before pulling her shirt up so Molly could see her lower back.

“Oh. My. God! Logan, my tattoo, of the witch-demon, she looks amazingly real, and the flaming pentagram, I could swear those are actual flames.”

Logan dropped her shirt down and tucked it in and turned to face Molly. “Look, we’ve got to get back to the ruin, but with the way we stirred up the spiders we should probably wait until tomorrow, and I think we should do it during the day. Something tells me that those things are primarily nocturnal.”

Molly nodded, “That’s sounds like a plan. We should probably find some water. I’m starting to get low.”

“Any guesses where?” Logan asked scanning the clearing.

“Actually yes,” When Logan glanced at him Molly shrugged, “I’ve just got this feeling that water is that way.” he said pointing with his left hand and Logan saw a slight flash of sunlight off the trident tattoo.

Without waiting to see if Logan would agree Molly collected his gear and set off. Logan hurriedly grabbed her equipment and followed. “I suppose one direction is as good as another.”

The land sloped down gently and then they were in the underbrush. After about thirty minutes Logan heard the sound of running water and then the pair stumbled out of the thick underbrush onto a steep bank with a ten foot drop and saw a deep, fast running, stream.

“I guess it’s better to be lucky than good. Any idea how we can get down to it without going for a swim?”

“What is the little girl afraid to get wet?” Molly teased. It took every bit of Logan’s self-control not to push Molly off the bank into the water.

“I’m more comfortable in the water than on dry land. But I’d like to keep my gear dry. Spending a night in wet clothes isn’t much fun, been there, done that.”

Molly sobered up a little and then pointed to the right. “I think we should go that way, follow it downstream. The ground looks like it slopes down, we just need it to get shallow enough for us to scoop up some water.”

The pair spent the next hour walking along the bank when all at once they heard a scream. It was a woman’s voice and then the sounds of war cries and the clash of steel drifted up. They glanced at each other and then as if by mutual assent they picked up the pace. In a few minutes the stream twisted and when they rounded the bend they spotted a shallow sandbar on the opposite bank. Standing on the sandbar they saw what looked like a pair of warriors in silver armor holding off nearly a dozen giant spiders.

These spiders were larger than the ones that had attacked them earlier. They were almost the size of horses and at first Logan thought some of them were being ridden by dark skinned humans. Then she realized that those spiders weren’t being ridden. The human’s upper body merged with the body of the spider creating an impossible looking monster. These human-spider creatures were wielding long wicked looking spears.

The ground was littered with the bodies of spiders, white fletched arrows standing at attention from each body. Now however, the spiders had closed in on the warriors forcing them to switch from bow to sword. Behind the warriors a woman, in light green cloak with a deep hood, stood and Logan thought the trio would be overrun in seconds. Then the woman lifted her hand and pointed at one of the human-spider creatures. From her outstretched hand four bolts of colored energy rocketed into the monster’s chest. The creature shrieked in pain and fell to the ground twisting in agony. The knights took advantage of the momentary shock and blurred forward their war cries thundering along the river. Logan was impressed with the speed and aggression of the attack and watched as spiders and human-spider monsters died with each sweep of their blades.

In seconds the number of attacking monsters had been cut in half and the three humans were untouched. Suddenly, there was a woman’s shout from the near side of the river bank. Then a pair of white looking lines arched over the river. The lines hit a pair of trees to either side of the trio of defenders and in seconds spiders the size of large dogs were racing along it.

“Look,” Molly pointed and Logan spotted a woman. She was a hundred meters downstream from them and for the moment oblivious to their presence. At first Logan assumed the woman was human, with dusky skin and white hair, but then she spotted the pointed ears.

“They’re going to die if we don’t help.”

“Molly, we don’t know what’s going on. We’re strangers here.”

“What’s to know, the spiders attacked us for no reason. Now that woman is controlling them and using them to attack those people. We can’t just stand here and do nothing.”

Then a pair of dark skinned male warriors moved up to flank the woman. They each held a crossbow and quickly fired on the trio on the sandbar. One of the bolts hit the warrior to the left of the woman in the back. His armor held and the bolt bounced away with a “PING” sound. The second bolt was aimed at the woman and just before it struck there was a flare of light as the bolt struck an unseen shield and bounced away.

“Contact!”

Logan reacted instantly bringing her AK up and wheeling in the direction Molly was shooting. A pair of smaller spiders, the size of Rottweiler’s were racing toward them along a tree limb. Molly got both in two quick controlled bursts before Logan could get her rifle on line. When they turned back the dark skinned female was pointing at them and one of the warriors with her broke into a run. As he did he pulled out a wicked looking curved sword.

Logan opened fire. The first rounds hit the warrior in the chest causing sparks to fly from the black armor he wore. Molly fired, and the spider that was accompanying him rolled to the ground, thrashing in death. Logan waited a heartbeat and settled on a spot between the warriors red eyes. This time her shots struck home as she fired a quick double tap. The force of the rounds caused the fighter to flip over onto his back in a spray of blood and bone.

Molly was now moving forward and Logan kept pace sighting in on the woman. Logan opened up with another round and the second warrior stepped in front of the female holding a large shield. The rounds struck the shield sparking and flashing but causing no real harm. Molly kept up a steady stream of fire on the spiders around the pair dropping one after another.

“Reloading,” Logan shouted and hit the magazine release button and then slapped another mag in.

Suddenly, the woman stepped around the warrior and pointed at Molly, three darts of black energy shot toward him and Molly dove for cover. Seeing an opportunity Logan started shooting as quickly as she could at the woman. Rounds sparked and flashed as they hit an invisible shield and then the warrior was between them again only this time he was charging. Molly rolled to his feet and fired aiming at the warrior’s legs. Molly was either a very good shot, or just lucky, because one of the rounds hit the fighters shin shattering it. This caused him to stumble and fall face first onto his belly.

Now the firing lane was clear so Logan resumed shooting at the woman only this time there was nothing stopping her rounds. They tore into the woman’s chest and she spun to the ground. Logan looked over at Molly just in time to see him deliver a killing shot to the warrior.

Molly glanced around but the few spiders remaining were disappearing into the woods. Logan moved to stand next to Molly and pointed. There across the stream the last human-spider hybrid was cut down by one of the two knights in silver. What really caught Logan’s attention was the woman. She was looking right at them and then she smiled and waived for them to come over.

Logan looked over at Molly, “I think they want us to cross over.”

Molly moved over to the river bank and looked down. At this point the drop was only a couple of feet and Molly could see the bottom.

“It doesn’t look too bad. Do you think we can trust them?”

Logan shrugged, “Hard to say. We just helped them and they’re the first natives we’ve run across, that didn’t try to kill us. I think we should give it a try.”

Molly let out a deep sigh and Logan noticed that he was shaking slightly in a post firefight reaction. Logan slung her AK over her back and then grinned at Molly.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

With that she sprinted to the edge of the bank and jumped. In the lesser gravity Logan sailed out making it just past the half-way point before dropping into the stream with a splash. She’d judged the jump well and was in a shallow part of the river a bit upstream from the three fighters. Logan began sloshing toward the sandbar only to have Molly land a few feet behind her and to one side. Molly’s greater strength and bulk made his jump longer and he hit with a mighty splash drenching Logan. Instead of glaring at her partner Logan continued out of the water stopping a dozen yards short of the waiting natives. A few seconds later Molly joined her on the sandbar.

By this time the woman and one of the warriors had turned to face them. The other warrior had disappeared into the woods. For a few seconds they stood looking at each other. Logan’s first impression was that these were humans. Tall beautiful humans, but human none the less. Then the woman in the green robes pulled back her hood allowing the sunlight to kiss her long blonde tresses. Encircling her brow was a band of silver with an emblem on the front of a fang or pillar of ice. Then Logan felt a surge of shock run through her as she saw pointed ears sticking up through her hair.

“Holy shit! It’s an Elf!”

“Amin Narmartë Thlim Ith Mindon, e' i' Tuaen' ho Aran Turukáno, En' Ondolindë. Mankoi ier lle sinome?"

The Elven warrior with the woman moved forward and slightly to one side as he placed himself between Molly and the lady in green. He was now holding the bow he’d abandoned earlier and even though there was an arrow on the string it wasn’t pointed at either of them, yet.

“Munta ana equë?” The warrior asked, and then surprise colored his voice as he glanced back at the woman. “Quimellënya, ëa sina á Atan?”

“Look, we don’t understand. But we’re not your enemies.” Molly said, trying to sound friendly.

The woman glanced at Molly and Logan and then over at the warrior. “Náto, Othon, Ni sanwë.”

Then as if making up her mind she reached under her robe and pulled out something. Logan couldn’t see what it was but she cupped it in both hands and then started singing softly. The song was hauntingly beautiful and Logan shivered, somehow she felt like she was standing on a snow bank looking out over an icy plain. The feeling was both lovely and harsh. Then from between the woman’s fingers Logan saw that whatever she was holding had started to glow.

“What do you think she’s doing?”

“No idea,” Molly responded.

Then the song ended and the Elven woman’s green eyes met Logan’s blue eyes. The woman took a step forward and extended her hand. The stone had an oval shape and appeared to be nothing more than a river rock, except for the faint white glow and the small sigil etched onto the smooth surface.

“Sinenngwë indyo ana unuhuinë min eces.”

Slowly Logan moved forward and reached out to take the stone.

“What are you doing?” Molly asked, alarmed.

“I think she wants me to take it.”

“I can see that, but you don’t know what it’ll do.”

“I don’t think she means us any harm, and . . . call it a hunch, but we need to try something.” With that Logan plucked the stone from the Elf’s hand. As soon as her fingers touched the rock a little electric shock ran through her body and she felt the hair on her arms stand up. At the same time she felt the tattoo on her back sort of twist and then it responded to the stone by sending a little wave of energy through Logan. Then it went quiet and Logan blinked.

The Elven woman nodded looking pleased. “I am Narmartë Thlim Ith Mindon, a Ranger in the service of His Highness, King Turukáno. What brings you to Nevrast and the Southern Marches of Ondolindë?”

“I can understand you.”

The awe in Logan’s voice caused the woman to flash a quick smile. “It is known as Lórien’s blessing. The gift of tongues. Now, human, for I’m guessing that is what you are, how is it that you came to be in the Southern Marches of Ondolindë?”

Logan glanced over at Molly who was looking back with surprise. “I couldn’t understand a word you just said,” he confirmed.

“I can still understand you. This is amazing,” Logan replied in English. Then she turned to the ranger switching to Eldarin. “I’m Logan Campbell and this is Molly Falk,” she said indicating Molly, “we are strangers in this land. Oh, and yes, we are both human.”

The male Elf interrupted, “It is obvious that you are a stranger, but of the Second Folk, a mortal-man, amazing?!” With that the warrior walked in a quick circle around both Logan and Molly. “How did you come to be here, and what are those weapons you’re carrying? I’ve never seen anything like them.”

Logan looked at the warrior for a moment and then glanced back at the female. “Narmartë, are all Elven people so rude? I’ve given you my name and the name of my partner, who is this?” With that Logan gestured to the warrior.

The warrior’s face flushed slightly and he glanced at Narmartë for a moment before looking back at Logan. Then he nodded slightly, “I am of the Sindar, Narmartë is of the Noldor, and my name is Othon son of Aeglosson. Now, Logan, how did you come to be here, fighting the Children of Ungoliant?”

When Othon spoke Logan got the brief impression of a giant spider and shuddered. “We were on the estate of Molly’s father when his enemies struck.” Logan said, trying to sum up the events of the day before. “We managed to lock ourselves in a vault but our foes’ were at the door and would soon breach it. There was a gate in that place that connects to a gate in this world. Molly knew how to use the gates and it brought us to the ruins of some kind of tower. And when night fell, the giant spiders . . . Children of Ungoliant?” Logan paused to look at Narmartë’s who nodded, “They attacked us. We’ve spent most of last night and today trying to escape them. Who were the dark-skinned ones directing them?”

At this Narmartë frowned, “They are called Hróvaquendi although more common is Mólquendi. They are a twisting of our people by the Enemy.”

“This explains the stirring of the Ungoliantsén. Do you think . . .?”

Before Othon could continue Narmartë cut him off, “Now, is not the time to discuss that.”

Just then Logan felt a stirring at the back of her neck and glanced over at the edge of the woods. The second Elven knight moved silently into the light and saluted Narmartë. “Captain, I chased the two Ungolis that escaped. I lost them when they crossed the river.”

“Damn! Well it can’t be helped. Cainir, we need to return to camp. There is much I don’t understand about today’s events.” Then Narmartë turned to Logan and Molly, “This is Mistress Logan Campbell and Master Molly Falk, of the Second Folk.”

At this announcement Logan saw Cainir’s eyes widen slightly. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Long have I wanted to meet one of the Second Folk,” Cainir might have been surprised but his voice reflected a genuine warmth.

“Come accept our hospitality for the night. Our camp isn’t too far and I would like to hear more about your world, and what happened when you entered this land.”

Logan nodded and then turned to Molly and relayed the conversation to him. “Do you think we should go?” Molly asked. “I mean, we’re already several miles from the tower. We need to be able to return tomorrow before it gets dark.”

Logan nodded, “True, but I’ve got a feeling that we should figure out what’s going on before we try to return. The more information we have about the Ungoliantsén,” at Molly’s confused look Logan clarified, “the giant spiders, the better our chances of sneaking back to the gate.”

Reluctantly Molly nodded and Logan turned to the Elves. “We’d be pleased to accept your hospitality for the night.”

Narmartë flashed a bright smile and then turned to the forest, “Follow me.”

“Wait, before we go, do you have another of those stones, my companion would greatly benefit from Lórien’s blessing.”

“Alas, the stone I gave you is the only spell-sung piece I have.” Logan felt her face fall and Narmartë quickly continued, “I have more with my supplies back at our camp.”

Molly and Logan fell in behind Narmartë. Othon and Cainir draped a set of green cloaks over their bright armor and disappeared silently into the woods. Logan noticed that Narmartë moved almost completely silently as she ghosted along. It took every ounce of her skill to keep up and remain as quiet. Luckily Molly had inherited Logan’s woodcraft and was moving, if anything, easier than Logan through the forest. They spent the next several hours hiking through the woods before the ground started to rise and then through the trees Logan spotted a set of tall rock spires. They appeared to be a natural formation rising above the forest.

“Falcon’s Rest, we call those.” Narmartë said, having noticed that the formation had caught Logan’s eye. “We will be spending the night atop the taller of the two.”

It was another hour before they reached the base of the spire and Narmartë led them to a set of steps cut into the side of the pillar. The stairs had been hewn into living rock and were so well concealed that Logan knew she’d never have been able to find them without a guide. Even with the steps the climb was challenging. The spire of rock rose at least five hundred feet into the sky, well above the tops of the trees. The stairs were narrow, barely wide enough for Logan to move up without having to turn sideways. Molly had to twist his broad shoulders to make the climb.

By the time they got to the top Logan was slightly out of breath from carrying all of her gear up the steep stairs, yet her weariness was instantly forgotten by the view. The top of the rock formation was a small uneven plateau about fifty yards across. From here Logan realized she could see for miles in all directions. Without really thinking she moved toward the edge gazing out in wonder on the green sea of trees below. As far as she could see to the south, east, and west were trees. Cutting through the forest the thin silver ribbon of a river twisted flowing from north to south.

“Would you look at that?” Molly’s exclamation caused Logan to turn around. When she did she realized she had a clear view of the mountains to the north. It was difficult to judge the distance, but Logan was sure they were huge, rivaling the Hindu-Kush Mountains she’d gotten to know while serving in Afghanistan.

“My Lady,”

At the comment Logan turned around and saw a small rock formation near the center of the plateau. The rocks were of different sizes ranging from waist to shoulder height and were positioned in a haphazard circle, creating an open area about twenty feet in diameter. When Logan walked over she saw Othon standing next to one of the larger stones and Narmartë across the circle from him. Then as if by mutual agreement they each touched the stone they were standing by and whispered something Logan couldn’t hear.

“When did he get up here?” Molly asked nodding to Othon.

“I’ve no idea, I never saw him. Now, shush, something’s happening.”

Logan felt a tingle on her skin and the tattoo on her back flared up, not painfully but suddenly Logan was very aware of it. Judging by Molly’s reaction he had a similar sensation. Then there was a soft grinding noise and a third boulder set an equal distance from the first two started to slowly spin. As it did it rose up becoming taller and taller. By the second rotation Logan thought she saw an opening on one side. By the fourth rotation she was sure of it. When the boulder finally stopped, now twice as tall as its two counterparts, the side facing in showed a narrow door.

“Come,” Narmartë said, grinning at Logan, “our camp lies below.”

Logan followed Narmartë with Molly right behind her. When she set foot on the stair she looked for the device that had powered the boulder and found nothing. Whoever it was who’d built that door had done a good job of hiding how it worked. The darkness started to close in and just before Logan could reach for her flashlight she heard Narmartë say, “Cala.”

Logan saw that Narmartë was now holding what looked like a thin wooden wand and the last inch of it was glowing a bright blue-white. The radiance was more than enough to illuminate the stairs so they continued down. After about twenty feet they came to the bottom and Logan and Molly found themselves in a natural cave that had been modified by the Elves. At one end of the cave was a pool of nearly still water. Every few seconds a drop of water fell from the stalactites hanging above the pool.

“Look at that,” Molly said tapping Logan on the shoulder. When she turned she saw that the Elves had cut several bed sized alcoves into the side of one wall. Then Narmartë said, “Cala, Cala, Cala.”

With each repetition of the word she gestured at a crystal embedded in the roof of the cave. The crystals responded by glowing with the same blue-white light that lit her wand. In seconds the cavern was filled with light. At this Logan caught her breath again, in amazement. Under the blue-white light Logan could see that the cave held a variety of rocks, of every color.

“This place is beautiful.” Logan said to Narmartë. At this the Elven ranger smiled.

“The spire is known as Falcon’s Rest, this camp is known as Sweetwater Deep. The area gets frequent rainfalls. The stones above us funnel most of the rain water down to the pool. The water is cool and very refreshing.”

With that Narmartë moved to the edge of the pool and scooped out a handful. Unable to resist Logan followed Narmartë to the pool. The water did feel cool and one sip was all Logan needed to know that this was the purest water she’d ever tasted.

“Captain Narmartë, Cainir, will keep the first watch.” Othon said, breaking the silence.

“Thank you.” Narmartë said, and looked over at Logan and Molly. “Please pick out a bed and relax.” At this she gestured to the alcoves. “We’ll have food prepared soon. I have a few things I must attend to now.” With that Narmartë moved to one side of the cave to an arched doorway that Logan hadn’t seen before and disappeared.

Author Note:

1: This story is based on the Altered Fates Universe concept established by Jennifer Adams, however I’ve taken some artistic liberties so this story doesn’t strictly adhere to the rules Jennifer established.

2: This is also a fanfic of the J.R.R. Tolkien world of Middle Earth in an untold tale of the First Age. Please note; I didn’t stay completely true to the Middle Earth that Tolkien set up. This is my take on what Middle Earth in the First Age might have been like.

By the time Logan and Molly had picked out sleeping alcoves to stash their gear Othon had started working on dinner. Logan watched as he passed his hand over a few stones noting the sigils carved into them, and chanted softly. She could feel something emanate from Othon and the sigils respond. Then the stones started to glow and Othon set a pot on a tripod over the glowing stones.

“Magic,” Molly asked, causing Logan to jump. He’d come to stand next her while she’d been focused on Othon and she hadn’t sensed him. Logan mentally chided herself on this lapse.

“Yeah, makes sense, they wouldn’t want to start a fire down here, the only ventilation is the stairs and we have to use those to get in and out.”

“I think I’m going to go up top and see what I can see.” With that Molly grabbed his AK, checked to make sure it was loaded with a fresh mag, double checked his side arm to make sure it was ready and then went up the spiral stair. Logan had considered following him but then discarded the idea. Instead she sat down on her backpack and spread out all of her gear. For the next few minutes she did a quick inventory, checked and cleaned her weapons, and counted her remaining ammo. She’d expended about a third of it during the firefight last night and then the altercation by the river. At last satisfied that her gear was in as good a shape as possible Logan took off her boots. Her feet had dried out during the hike after the river crossing. But the chance to let them air out and then put on fresh socks was important. One of the things she’d learned over the years in the field was to take care of her feet.

By the time Logan was lacing her boots back up Narmartë had returned from the side room. She paused to look around and then came over to Logan and as she approached Logan stood up.

“I’ve contacted the Knight-Commander of the Ondolindë Ranger Crops, Sir Helcëtôr Thlim Ith Mindon. He asked me to extend an invitation to you and Molly to meet with him at the village of Lindornëa.”

When she said this Logan got the impression of a village nestled in the boughs of hundreds of Oak trees. “I thank you for the hospitality, but my friend and I, must make plans to return to the gate and through it to our world.”

Narmartë looked troubled at this but nodded, “Very well.”

“Um, is there someplace where I might refresh myself?”

At this Narmartë looked surprised and then embarrassed, “Of course, where are my manners. Come.” With that she led Logan through the door she’d used earlier. The room beyond was small and had been part of the cave before someone had walled it off. It was now being used as a storeroom. There were shelves along one wall containing a variety of food stuffs, jars, and containers. There was also a weapons rack, holding enough weapons to outfit a Renaissance Fair. At the far end of the room were two doors and Narmartë indicated the one on the right.

“That leads to the scrying room. Please, do not use it.” Then she pointed to the one on the left. “Down a short flight of stairs you’ll find a small room with a pool and a waterfall. You can wash there. The current is slow and steady and since it is below the level main camp there is no need to worry about bathing in our water supply.”

A few minutes later Logan was standing in a small room lit by a single crystal above the door. She sat her backpack down and dug through it until she found a camp towel, fresh underwear, a set of khaki cargo pants, and clean t-shirt. Then with one last look at the open doorway Logan stripped out of her grimy clothes and grabbed a bar of soap and headed into the pool.

She let out a sharp hiss at the cold temperature, “Well, this is going to be a quick bath!” Logan felt her skin prickle up in reaction to the cold water and she glanced down to see her nipples standing out like ice chips from her breasts. “Fuck, this is weird.” Logan muttered and then ducked under the water. Even though it was cold it felt surprisingly good. When Logan came up out of the water she could feel the tattoo on her back move around. It was almost like it had a life of its own.

Then as if by some instinct Logan tried to mentally touch the tattoo. In response the image of the sexy witch-demon appeared in her mind. The demon was looking right at her and it spread its wings and then settled them behind her back so Logan could hardly see them.

*Bene, occurrit. Ego Melchiresa filia luciferi, et magistra, ignis, et metalla.*

Logan’s breath caught, she could hear the words clearly, yet no one had spoken out loud. It took her half a second to figure out what had been said, and then it came to her. ‘Well, met. I am Melchiresa, daughter of the morning star, and mistress of air, fire, and metal.’

*Frigidus es, fac calidus?*

Again the words changed in Logan’s mind shifting so that she understood the meaning. ‘You are cold, may I warm you?’

“Yes.”

Warmth suddenly blossomed within Logan. The heat emanated from the middle of her body and filled her limbs.

“Who are you?”

*Tibi dedi meo nomine. Melchiresa sum. Quondam notum sit occultus. Quæ moventur in tenebris clavae occulta potentia. Quod nomen est tibi?*

The words shifted, ‘I have given you my name. I am Melchiresa. I was once known as the Hidden One, She Who Moves-in-the-Shadows, and The Wielder of the Hidden Power. What is your name?’

“I am Logan Quinn Campbell.”

For some reason Logan felt like she needed to say her full name, even though she normally never told anyone her middle name.

*Salve, Logan Quinn Campbell, Melchiresa sum.* suddenly there was a twisting within Logan’s mind, *Ah, I see now the pattern of our thoughts.*

“Our thoughts?” she asked.

*There is no need to speak out loud. Simply direct your thoughts to me and I will hear them.*

‘How did you get in my head?’ Logan thought.

There was a moment of puzzlement. * I don’t know. There was darkness and music. Then a deeper darkness and I could tell the music came from that place. I moved toward it and as I touched it I became aware of you. The darkness flowed into me and as it did I could feel more and more of your body around me. I’ve been trying to talk to you, but you didn’t notice, until now. *

‘I’ve been a little busy.’

At this Logan remembered why she was standing waist deep in the pool and went to work scrubbing the grim and dirt from her skin. As she did Melchiresa went silent. Just as Logan was climbing out of the pool she felt a flash of memory. She was once again standing in the glade, touching the obelisk, and power was flowing into her. Logan felt the tattoo stir, *This is the moment of our birth.*

Logan didn’t know what to say so picked up her towel to dry off. *There is no need for that.* Then Logan felt a flash of heat push out from her and the water on her skin turned to steam leaving Logan dry.

“Damn it, don’t do that!”

Logan felt a sense of puzzlement. ‘Look, I’m not really sure what to make of you. But that startled me. I need to know before you do anything like that again.’

*Ah, I understand. We need to act in unison, least our enemies take advantage.*

With an internal sigh, Logan started to get dressed. ‘Look, Mel, I don’t know what enemies you’re referring too. But just don’t do anything without getting my permission first, okay?’

*Of course, Mel?*

‘Well, Melchiresa is just too long for daily use. Mel is shorter and more intimate.’

With that the voice inside of Logan went quiet and she finished dressing.

Molly looked out over the forest. The view was truly spectacular, particularly with the play of light by the setting sun. Molly glanced over at the second pillar of stone. It was just over a quarter of a mile away and was a good hundred feet shorter. Yet in the clear air Molly felt like he could reach out and touch it. For a moment Molly focused on the plateau and he felt a stirring on his back. The movement of the tattoos on his skin was an odd sensation, but it was starting to become something he was used to. Then Molly chuckled and adjusted his cock. ‘Just like I’m getting used to having a piece of meat hanging between my legs.’ He thought. ‘It really is amazing what a guy can get used to.’

Then Molly saw a movement along the side of the adjacent plateau and suddenly his vision seemed to go still and then zoom in. The movement was that of a Falcon chick moving around in the nest. Molly felt thrilled and then shocked, ‘How is it possible for me to see something that small?’

“Friend, Molly, what has your attention?” Cainir asked.

Molly pointed to the nest, “I was just watching the Falcon chick.”

The Elf looked where Molly was pointing and made a surprised noise. “I’d always heard that men had poor eyesight. Yet, I can just make out the nest and you’re watching the chicks within?”

Molly felt just as surprised but covered it up by turning to look down at the forest below. “You say that you’re surprised by my eyesight? I still can’t get over instantly learning a language.” Molly commented, remembering taking the spell-sung stone from Narmartë a few minutes ago and the sensation of disorientation and then when Narmartë spoke he’d understood every word.

At this Cainir chuckled. “Lórien’s Blessing, is not often used. We are fortunate that the nest has been stocked with spell-stones and that Narmartë is a strong enough spell-singer to enchant another one.”

Molly glanced over at the Elven warrior noticing that tall as he was, Molly was slightly taller. Molly had always been tall for a woman, but Molly was now well over six feet. “Do all Ranger squads have Spell-Singers with them?”

“We patrol in squads of three. The Knight-Commander tries to make sure that every squad has a Spell-Singer. The outer marches have grown more and more dangerous as the power of the Enemy grows. A Spell-Singer gives the squad many options we’d not otherwise have.”

Molly wasn’t exactly sure what to make of that assertion. He remembered the fight by the river and watching the darts of colored light slam into the Human-Spider monster.

“I saw Othon cause a group of rocks to heat up with just a wave of his hand. Is he also a Spell-Singer?”

Cainir laughed at this, “No, not at all. We are the First People. Each of us has some of the Music of the Ainur within us. Those like Narmartë hear the music strongly and know many melodies. Others like Othon and me can only hum a tune or two.”

Molly nodded, as though he understood, and returned to looking down at the land below. The sun was just setting and something was bothering him but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Then down by the river he thought he saw a flash of movement. Without thinking about it he caused his eyes to zoom in and his breath caught.

“Cainir, what kind of creatures are those?” Molly pointed at a bend in the river.

Cainir leaned forward looking and then let out a hiss. He reached into a belt pouch and pulled out a tube that he quickly extended to about two feet and then brought one end up to his eye.

“Orcs!” The word was more of a curse than anything else! “Molly, get Narmartë and Othon, quickly.”

Molly raced to the entrance to the cavern aware that in the lower gravity each stride was almost double the normal length. He had to slow down on the stairs so by the time he got to the cavern both Othon and Narmartë had stopped what they were doing. They’d obviously heard him rushing down the steps. Just as Molly opened his mouth Logan stepped into the room. Molly noticed that she was wearing fresh clothes and that her hair was damp.

“What has you in such a haste?” Narmartë asked.

“Cainir, asked me to bring you and Othon. We’ve spotted a group of Orcs by the river.”

At this announcement Othon surged to his feet and without a word grabbed his bow and raced up the stairs. Narmartë paused to collect the satchel she’d been carrying during the battle by the river and wrapped her green cloak around her shoulders before moving to the stairs.

Logan and Molly exchanged a look before Logan said, “Since when do you speak Elvish?”

“Since about twenty minutes ago. Narmartë had another one of those stones. Did you take a bath?”

“Yeah, there’s a pool one level down.”

At this the two of them moved up the steps. “Orcs, like, the ‘Lord of the Rings’ movie Orcs?”

“I’m not sure, they were pretty far away. I could tell they weren’t human, but sort of humanoid.”

By the time Molly and Logan joined the Elves at the edge of the plateau both warriors were using spyglasses to look down on the forest. Narmartë either didn’t need the spyglasses or trusted what her fellow Rangers were telling her.

“That’s more than just a squad.” Othon said.

“I’ve counted fifty, and if they are moving in individual groups . . .” Cainir let the sentence fall unfinished. “Then we’re looking at a Warband.” Narmartë said, finishing the thought.

“They’re headed east. There’s only one place they could be going.” Othon said, putting his spyglass down and looking over at Narmartë. “Lindornëa is the closest of the seven villages.”

“Orcs wouldn’t dare to take on a full Quenderin village.”

“Excuse me, but what are those?” Molly interrupted pointing some distance down the river from where the Orcs were crossing. Both Elven Rangers brought up their spyglasses and then after a few seconds Othon shook his head. “I don’t see anything.”

“Neither do I,” Cainir added.

“They are taller than the Orcs, maybe twice as tall. I can’t make out the skin color in this light but it looks like they are almost naked. They’re carrying clubs for weapons.” Molly said focusing intently on the land below.

Narmartë lifted her hands touching her finger tips together to form a sphere. Then she began chanting softly and brought her hands up to her eyes so she could look through her cupped fingers. Logan wasn’t sure what she saw but all at once her body language changed.

“Trolls, Mountain Trolls by the look.” Then Narmartë moved her hands scanning up and down the river. “I count at least ten Warbands, plus two groups of Trolls.” She dropped her hands, “Cainir, stay and keep watch. I’ll do a sending to the Knight-Commander. Othon, gather our supplies, we need to be ready to move in an hour.” Then she turned to look at Molly, “Atan, your eyes are very keen. Without you we might have missed this and Lindornëa would have suffered. That raiding party is large enough to threaten the village.”

Molly shrugged, “I’m glad I could help.”

Narmartë placed her hands on Molly’s shoulders. “I name you Elf-Friend from now on all Quendelië shall know you as Sornohen, Eagle-Eyes.”

Molly felt something surge through his body and then it was over. He could sense without being told that something had changed, Narmartë’s naming him had in some fundamental way connected him to the world around him.

Narmartë turned to Logan, “Come, I think you will find this interesting.”

Logan followed Narmartë as she descended into the cave and headed directly to the scrying room. Just before she went in Logan stopped her, “I thought you didn’t want me to enter this room.”

Narmartë glanced at Logan and gave her a smile. “I’ve met Atan before. You and Sornohen wear the shape of the Atan, but you are also different. Perhaps coming from another world is what I’m sensing. I know of the ruins not far from where we met. The Mólquendi, use the Ungoliantsén to guard the area closely and I think I’m starting to understand why. It is believed that the Maiar once dwelt there and that it was important to them in some way. The Song of Ainur is strong here and I believe that I’m starting to hear bits of the music in you and Sornohen. If you’re willing I would dearly like our Knight-Commander to see you.”

Logan didn’t know what to think but nodded, “Alright.”

Narmartë led Logan into a room much smaller than the room with the bathing pool. The floor was smooth and in the middle a slight depression had formed. Within the depression lay still dark, water. Around the water carved with silver letters were words in a flowing foreign script.

Narmartë reached the edge of the pool and knelt next to it. Once again she started singing softly and then after a few seconds placed a hand within the pool. As soon as she did the water began to glow with a soft white luminescence. As it did Logan felt Melchiresa stir, ‘Be still,’ Logan thought, and her sense of Melchiresa faded.

Then the pool began to swirl and in the center a small whirlpool formed then up out of the whirlpool the image of a man rose. Logan saw that the image was made of water and when it got to be about two feet high, it turned to face them.

‘Narmartë, what trouble causes you to contact me twice in one night?’

The voice had a strange quality, like it was coming from a great distance. It was also a voice filled with music and Logan got the impression of sunlight dappling through a forest.

“Sir Helcëtôr, it is with urgent news I disturb you. We have just spotted a Warband of Orcs and Mountain Trolls. The total strength is unknown, but I’d guess between five hundred and a thousand. We think they will attack Lindornëa before sunrise or soon after.”

Even though the figure was made of water Logan got the impression that he’d not been fully concentrating on the sending. Now the figure sort of sharpened. As if details that had been kind of out of focus because Helcëtôr’s attention was divided now tightened into perfect clarity. Logan could see every line of the armor Helcëtôr wore and noticed that his hair was moving by an unseen, or felt, wind.

“Follow them. Take any scouts you can, but don’t risk too much. Make sure they are going to Lindornëa and that they don’t stumble upon the Way.”

Logan was impressed. The Elvish commander didn’t waste time or words asking if Narmartë was sure. Instead he shifted to giving orders.

“Yes, my lord.”

“I will contact Lindornëa’s Guard-Captain and alert her.” Then he paused to consider, “Sunrise is in nine hours, Ilcanalta is the closest village even if it is a ten hour march. If they make haste they can join forces with Lindornëa’s defenders.” Sir Helcëtôr paused to rub his chin and consider, “Is there anything else, Captain?”

“Yes, Sir, I have with me the Atan female, Logan. I can feel the Song of Ainur within her and thought you’d like to meet her.”

At this Logan stepped up to the edge of the pool and she could feel Sir Helcëtôr turn his attention to her. Even though she was looking at a statue constructed of water Logan knew that this meeting was in some way important.

“Greetings, Daughter of Man. I would that we were meeting under better conditions.”

“It is an honor to meet you.”

“Narmartë tells me that you fought well against the Mólquendi, and their servants the Ungoliantsén. I would offer assistance, in returning you to your Gate, but the defense of Lindornëa takes precedence.”

“I understand my Lord.” Then on impulse, “I would like to offer you our help. My companion and I are capable woodsmen and fighters in our own right. I would not have it said that I stood by while an innocent village is threatened.”

The image in the pool seemed to consider Logan’s offer for a minute then he looked over at Narmartë, “As the on-scene commander, I will leave the decision to you, Captain.” When Narmartë nodded he continued, “I must go, if we are to organize the defense.” Then not waiting for an answer the image collapsed back into the pool and the water slowly became still once more.

Narmartë stood up flicking the water from her hand back into the pool. Then she turned to Logan, “I will be glad of your help. But we must move swiftly.”

Logan moved silently through the woods a few yards to her left Molly glided along. It was now the darkest part of the night and Logan had no trouble seeing. During the descent from the Falcon’s Nest Melchiresa had spoken silently to Logan and asked her if she needed help seeing. When she’d agreed it was like a curtain had been lifted. Now even though it was almost pitch black Logan had no trouble. Interestingly, by the way Molly was moving he wasn’t having any trouble either. During one of their rest breaks Logan had brought up the tattoos and Molly hadn’t wanted to talk about them. But she could tell that there was more going on with Molly. The Elves were now calling him Sornohen and Logan knew she should too, if only to prevent confusion, while on a mission. Logan just hoped that whatever was going on wouldn’t prevent them from getting home.

Sornohen held up a fist and Logan froze. He pointed ahead and to the right. It took a second before Logan saw it. A pair of Orc scouts. They’d attached bits and pieces of leaves and small branches to their armor. A crude camouflage but in the night it broke up their outline and was partially effective. Logan motioned to Cainir who was a dozen feet to her right, but he’d already spotted the Orcs. Cainir lifted his bow but held back. Othon and Narmartë were behind them and without Othon’s bow they didn’t have a way to kill the other Orc silently from a distance.

*I can help.*

‘How?’

*You want it silent and quick? You can borrow my strength, you are already stronger here than most creatures your size, I can make you even stronger. I am also the mistress of air, fire, and metal. I can teach you many things.*

‘I don’t have time for a lesson now, lend me your strength.’

As soon as Logan finished thinking it energy flooded her body. Her clothes suddenly felt tight as if she just grew a couple of inches and she could feel her chest expand so that the bra she was wearing now cut painfully into her. At the same time she felt STRONG. Without waiting for Sornohen or Cainir Logan glided forward. She reached up and pulled the combat knife from her vest. In a few seconds she’d moved behind the second Orc. From where Cainir stood this would be the harder Orc to shoot.

Both Orcs had stopped. They were sniffing the wind, luckily, or perhaps by some instinct Logan had approached them from downwind. The taller of the two Orcs said something but Logan didn’t understand it. They started to move forward and Logan attacked. She leapt forward covering a dozen feet landing softly right behind the smaller Orc. At the same moment she landed Logan drove the knife down at an angle into the Orc’s neck cutting through his windpipe.

The Orc stiffened and tried to turn, Logan let go of the knife and grabbed each side of the Orc’s head and twisted. Logan knew that she was strong, stronger than she’d been even in her male body, but the ease with which she snapped the Orc’s neck surprised her.

There must have been some slight sound because the first Orc turned and as he did an arrow appeared as if by magic, in his throat. Logan let go of the Orc she’d just killed and jumped to the larger one. Catching him as his body started to twitch, with a quick twist she broke his neck as well, stilling him. For a second Logan looked down at her hands not recognizing them. They were still a woman’s hands only now the fingers were a longer and at the end of each finger the nail had turned into a three inch talon. Logan could also feel a sense of glee from Mel at having killed.

‘Enough, back off.’ Logan silently ordered and she felt Melchiresa fade. As her presence faded Logan watched her hands return to normal and her clothes got looser.

*Poo . . . I was just having a little fun.*

‘Are you pouting?’

Logan silently shook her head when her inquiry was met with silence and couldn’t help laughing a little. By the time Logan had retrieved her knife Sornohen had caught up with her. Logan could tell he was angry but he kept silent. Cainir was looking at her with a thoughtful expression.

“There are more scouts to hunt, come.” was all Cainir said.

By the time they’d finished off their fifth set of scouts it was starting to get light. The group had moved away from the Warband and Narmartë spoke softly.

“The Orcs have halted to concentrate their forces for the attack. They know something isn’t right because their scouts have failed to report back. I managed to make contact with the Guard Captains’ from Lindornëa and Ilcanalta. They have set up an ambush and requested we move off to the northeast to give them room to work. We can watch from that small ridge,” at this Narmartë waved to where the sea of trees thinned. “If any of the foul folk escape the trap and come our way we’re to destroy them.”

By the time they’d moved to the small ridge it had gotten even lighter and then abruptly a set of silver horns blasted the quiet morning air. War-cries rang out in the forest and Logan knew that the ambush had been sprung. The five settled in a line on the ridge watching the fighting below. It was difficult to make out the details in the trees. But from the sounds of things it wasn’t going well for the raiders. The brazen horns of the Elves were moving forward and the screams of the Orcs echoed up from the forest.

“Contact!”

The shout in English focused Logan on the tree line. She saw, bursting from the trees below, a group of Orcs and a pair of Mountain Trolls race toward the ridge. Without waiting to be told Sornohen and Logan opened up. The charging Orcs were about three hundred meters away. Logan kept her AK in semi-auto and picked each shot carefully. From this range even the mighty Elven bows weren’t able to reach their targets. Orcs stumbled and fell as Sornohen and Logan shot. At a hundred and fifty meters Othon and Cainir joined in and more Orcs started falling.

“Reloading,” Logan shouted and slapped in a fresh mag.

“Logan, aim for the Trolls!”

Logan shifted her shots to the pair of Trolls that lumbered forward and even though she was aiming for head shots nothing seemed to work. Now they were only fifty meters away. Then Narmartë stepped forward. She lifted the wand Logan had seen her use before and aimed it at the closest Troll and sang out a phrase she couldn’t quite catch. The energy that shot out hit the Troll in the chest staggering it.

“By the power of the White Flame of Ondolindë, DIE,” Narmartë exclaimed!

This time the energy that blasted from her wand was thicker and more powerful it struck the Troll and the creature burst into flames screaming loud enough to make Logan’s ears ring. But even as the first Troll fell the second surged forward and raised its club with both hands in order to smash Narmartë.

*Let me help!*

Logan instantly agreed and the tattoo on her back flared and then once again energy flowed into her. The light seemed to shift and time slowed. Logan dropped her rifle and lifted a taloned hand and pointed it at the Troll who was bringing his club down slowly toward Narmartë. White hot flames burst from Logan’s extended hand in a bar of fire as thick as her wrist. The fire struck the Troll engulfing it in flames. Narmartë stumbled back raising a hand to ward off the heat.

The crack of gunfire brought Logan back and the world returned to normal speed. The Orcs that had cowered behind the Trolls now charged and Logan picked up her rifle noticing in an abstract way that her hand had returned to normal. She now focused on making each shot count. Suddenly, a war cry echoed from the side. The Orcs had sent a small group around to flank them. A dozen Orcs swarmed forward and Othon and Cainir dropped their bows and drew their swords.

Then Sornohen’s AK clicked empty. “I’m out!” With that Molly dropped his AK but instead of going for his M-9 he extended his left hand. Light seemed to flow toward his hand coalescing into a golden trident nearly six feet in length. The weapon appeared just in time for Sornohen to drive it into the chest of the first Orc. There was a crack like thunder and the Orc was thrown back his body burned beyond recognition. Sornohen spun around whirling the trident over his head and brought the shaft down, like it was a quarter staff, to hit another Orc on the shoulder. There was a second crack and this Orc also fell. Logan wasn’t sure what the trident was made of but it was a formidable weapon.

An Orc tried to attack Othon from behind and Logan shot it and then her AK clicked empty. Logan looked around for new threats, none presented themselves. For a second Logan felt the urge to throw off her backpack and body-armor and stretch her wings. It would be much easier to hunt Orcs from the sky. Then she realized what she’d thought and shook her head, she didn’t have wings!

Sensing someone approaching Logan turned and saw that Narmartë had moved over to her. “Thank you. You saved my life.”

Logan felt a little embarrassed. “You would have done the same for me.”

Then as if by agreement they both turned to look down at the battle. From where they stood they could see the flash of sunlight on silver and golden armor. The Elves were advancing from all sides driving the Orcs and Trolls back.

“Should we help?” Logan asked.

“No, we were told to stay here and stop any stragglers from getting over this ridge. The battle will soon be over.”

Othon joined the women and he nodded to the Troll that Logan had burned. “Narmartë said the Song was strong within you.”

Logan didn’t know what to say so she kept silent but Narmartë looked over at her. “I think it was the will of Manwë that brought you to us.” Then she reached out to lay a hand on Logan’s shoulder, “I name you Elf-friend, and will call you from this time on, Ilcaúrna, Blazing White-Fire.”

Author Note:

1: This story is based on the Altered Fates Universe concept established by Jennifer Adams, however I’ve taken some artistic liberties so this story doesn’t strictly adhere to the rules Jennifer established.

2: This is also a fanfic of the J.R.R. Tolkien world of Middle Earth in an untold tale of the First Age. Please note; I didn’t stay completely true to the Middle Earth that Tolkien set up. This is my take on what Middle Earth in the First Age might have been like.

Logan wrapped the freshly dampened bandana around her nose and mouth trying to filter out some of the smell. The sun was now directly overhead and the Elves had been hard at work collecting the bodies of the slain Orcs and Trolls. Logan counted at least a dozen large pyres already burning fiercely. Unfortunately, from her position atop the ridge, and with the wind from the east, the smoke from the fires was making it difficult to breath.

Logan glanced over at Molly and saw that he’d adopted a similar tactic to filter some of the smoke. Narmartë had left once the battle had moved away from them asking Molly and Logan to stay on the ridge with Othon and Cainir. Logan assumed that she didn’t want them to bump into a group of Elfish warriors and become mistaken for a foe. Logan settled a little lower trying to escape some of the stench, and reflected that the Elves were very efficient. After the fighting had stopped they immediately began cleaning up the battlefield.

“Hey, how are you doing?”

Logan glanced up Molly had seen her look and come over. “I’m fine. I wouldn’t mind getting off this ridge though.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I didn’t realize that bodies stunk so badly when they’re burned.”

Logan glanced at Molly a little concerned, he might have inherited Logan’s weapons and battle skills, and even some of Logan’s memories, but he hadn’t experienced a battle before. This was bound to hit him.

“Yeah, but if you want something that really stinks, try pouring gasoline on a bucket of shit and burning it.” Logan shook her head, “At least this just smells like burning meat and wood.”

They both sat back and watched the Elves for a bit. “Okay, out with it.” Molly said.

“Out with what?”

“You’ve been giving me looks for over an hour, what’s up?”

“During the fight, when you ran out of ammo, I saw you fighting with a glowing trident.”

At this Molly nodded, “I know, it was the strangest thing. I was out of ammo and about to go for my 9mm and then my arm started burning and I just knew that if I summoned it my trident would appear.”

“Can you do it again?”

Molly looked thoughtful for a second, “Yeah, I think so. I mean I can feel it right now, and I think if I called it would come, why?”

“I . . . can you talk to it?”

At this Molly shook his head, “No. How could I? It’s just a weapon.” Then he looked closer at Logan. “What aren’t you telling me? Wait, Cainir said that Narmartë had named you. Um . . . Ilcaúrna, the white blaze, or White Fire?”

“The blazing white fire is what Narmartë called me.”

“Why, what did you do?”

“I set one of the attacking Trolls on fire.”

Molly whistled, and then looked closer, “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I . . . it’s my tattoo, the witch-demon. I can talk to her. She says her name is Melchiresa, the mistress of Air, Fire, and Metal.”

“Really; Wow! I never named her. I just thought she looked sexy, dangerous, and I was sort of at a rebellious place when I had it done. Daddy was so mad he could spit and mom didn’t talk to me for a week.”

Logan looked worried but pressed on, “She wants to teach me to use her powers, and when I used them in battle, they changed me.”

“Changed you how?”

“When I let her strength come into me my body gets bigger, and I’m stronger and faster.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“For now, but I’m afraid that there are things about Melchiresa that I don’t know.” Then Logan looked intently at Molly, “Have you talked to any of your tattoos? The Griffin or the Spartan Hero?”

“No,” then Molly looked a little thoughtful, “well, now that I think about it. When I need to see something better I can sort of feel the Griffin and last night during our fight with the Orc scouts I could feel energy flowing from him into me and then my eyesight just sharpened and I could see in the dark. What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know. But it was that Obelisk that did it.”

Before Molly could reply Cainir shouted and they looked up to see a small group of Elfish Knights coming toward them. Narmartë was in the middle of the group walking next to a tall Knight in golden and green armor. Molly and Logan climbed to their feet and followed Othon and Cainir who were moving down the side of the hill to greet the approaching Elves. They stopped a dozen feet from the Elves and Narmartë walked a few steps forward.

“My Lord, Knight-Commander Sir Helcëtôr, these are rangers, Cainir son of Duvainor and Othon son of Aeglosson.”

“Cainir and Othon, you are both to be commended! You did well in discovering this raid and taking out the foul one’s scouts. The loss of those scouts allowed our trap to work flawlessly. Well done!”

Logan felt the power of Sir Helcëtôr’s voice resonate within her bones. Both of the young rangers bowed deeply at their leader’s compliment. Then as the pair straightened up Narmartë gestured toward Molly and Logan.

“These are the Atan I told you about. Sornohen, Eagle-Eye, spotted the foul ones and fought bravely against them. In battle the Song of Ainur flowed through him and he struck down the enemy with a weapon of light!” At this the Elves making up the party murmured in awe but Narmartë continued by gesturing toward Logan. “This is Ilcaúrna, the Blazing White-Fire, she slew a Troll by the Song. I have named them both Elf-Friends.”

Sir Helcëtôr, nodded and stepped closer, he was taller than Molly and when he smiled Logan was stunned by his raw physical beauty. “Sornohen, Ilcaúrna, I welcome you to the lands of King Turukáno. The village of Lindornëa is an hour’s walk from here. Please allow me to offer you hospitality for the night.”

Molly nodded and stepped forward, “My Lord, we’d be honored to accept.”

The village of Lindornëa was one of the most beautiful sights that Logan had ever seen. The sun was still high in the afternoon sky when the trees opened before them. This allowed the small group a good view down a gentle hill into the village. Dividing the village was a branch of the river they’d crossed earlier and at first it was difficult for Logan to see where the village started and stopped. The buildings had been crafted gracefully from wood and were built into the trees themselves. And then there were the trees! They were a variety of Oak that Logan had never seen before. The bark was a pale white that reminded Logan of the White Birch trees of her native Michigan, except that the vibrant green leaves were shaped like an oak leaf. But more impressive than the white on green beauty of the trees was their size. The trees were huge!

Logan had never seen a tree more than a hundred feet tall. She remembered hearing that the Giant Red-Wood trees in California could get up to three hundred feet, but unless she was mistaken these trees had to be at least five hundred feet tall. Then Logan spotted the bridges arching gracefully over the river connecting the east and west banks.

“The village of Lindornëa was one of the first settlements of our people after we crossed the ice.” Narmartë said, causing Logan to jump. The woman could move absolutely silently when she wanted to!

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

At this Narmartë laughed gaily, “My people Thlim Ith Mindon built this place, your actions have saved many of my House.” After a moment’s pause she added, “In the winter when the snow lies deeply upon the ground, the trees blend in perfectly looking like individual towers of snow.”

While they’d been talking the rest of the group headed down to the village. Leaving the five companions slightly behind. The Elves seemed content to wait until their human guests were ready to move forward. After a few minutes Narmartë said, “My family has moved to Ondolindë but I have a small house in the village. I would be honored if you would stay with me.”

“We’d be glad to stay with you Narmartë.” Molly replied before Logan could answer.

“Come, there will be a feast tonight to celebrate the victory.” Cainir said.

With that they moved down into the village and if Logan had been impressed by the size of the trees before, now, up close, it was stunning. The Elves built with impossible skill and after a few minutes Logan started to wonder if they used magic in their crafting. There were gardens around the village and under the trees themselves. Logan realized these gardens must be a primary source of food. Then she noticed that in addition to buildings set within the trees there were tiers of hanging gardens.

There were paths constructed of stone and wood along the ground and Narmartë led them along a wide street waving occasionally at people she knew. Logan continued to stare in awe at the village. Some of the buildings gracefully flowed between the branches and trunk of a single tree while others arched between several the trees. Then Logan realized this wasn’t a village, it was a small town. If she had to guess Logan would have said that several thousand Elves lived in this place. There were stairs, ramps, and ladders leading up into the tree city and Narmartë now brought them to a wide set of stairs that wound around the trunk of a single tree. As large as this tree was, it was one of the smaller ones Logan had passed. At this Cainir and Othon said goodbye at the first landing moving along separate hanging bridges into different trees. Before they left they assured Molly and Logan that they would see them later.

The climb felt like it went on and on, and it occurred to Logan that only in a world with lesser gravity could a town like this have been constructed. Once they were a couple hundred feet above ground Narmartë led them over a bridge between two massive branches and then up another hundred feet. The house she brought them to was constructed of a nearly white wood, and was nestled against the trunk of the tree. The main door opened at a word from Narmartë and spell-sung stones flared to life at the return their mistress.

Logan quickly realized this was a decent sized house with three bedrooms, a combination kitchen and eating area, a room Narmartë called the water room, a main sitting room, and a ‘sanctum,’ whatever that was.

“I’m sure that you could use some time to refresh yourselves.” Narmartë said after giving them a quick tour of her house. “There will be a feast tonight and you will both be guests of honor. The water room has a bath, and if you have need, I’m sure I can find some clothes for you for tonight.”

“That won’t be necessary. We’ve extra, although nothing particularly fancy.” Molly said.

“I think my people will be impressed by the exotic nature of your garb, fancy or simple.”

Molly turned to Logan, “Dibs on the bath.”

“Fat chance, I’m playing the female card. I get first use.”

At this Molly chuckled, “As you wish, my lady.”

Logan quickly dropped off her gear in the room Narmartë had indicated was hers and then dug through for fresh clothes. As Molly had said there wasn’t anything fancy. Fresh khaki pants, underwear, and a light white cotton top that looked nice. Then Logan spotted the light silk bathrobe that she’d overlooked the first time she’d done an inventory. Logan quickly stripped, slipped into the bathrobe and collected the shower kit from the backpack before heading to the water room.

The room was obviously what Logan would have called a bathroom. It had a tall tub a sink with a circular mirror and what looked like a toilet. It took Logan a few minutes of experimentation to figure out how to use the crystal controls to bring water to the tub and sink as well as flush. Somehow she managed to sense the flow of magic through the crystals and Melchiresa offered a suggestion or two.

When Logan had a tub full of hot water she slowly eased into it, letting out a hiss as the hot water hit her more delicate parts. Once she settled in she was startled by how buoyant her breasts were and how much the hot water caused her to relax. Even though gravity here was less than what she was used to, a day and night of hiking followed by a battle had left Logan, tired, sore, and bruised. As she relaxed Logan started to drift off a little and could feel Melchiresa stir.

*This feels nice.*

‘Yes.’

*May I stretch?*

Logan didn’t really know what Melchiresa meant but she didn’t sense any ill intent and by this point she was half drowsing.

‘I guess.’

Logan felt a pushing of energy from her back and then she had that same feeling of growing and expanding. Muscles rippled, skin stretched, it was like Logan’s whole body was being reshaped, yet it wasn’t painful. This went on for several seconds and Logan couldn’t move and then it was done. The first thing Logan noticed was that water was now sloshing over the sides of the tub.

*Ah, much better!*

Logan felt a sense of relief and happiness flow from Melchiresa. Logan glanced down and gasped. Logan had thought that Molly had a great figure with perfectly sized breasts. When she’d become Molly’s twin Logan thought that her new boobs were too damn big. But now they were huge! Logan surged to her feet and for a second had trouble balancing and spread her wings. Then it hit her, she had WINGS!

‘What have you done?’ Logan practically screamed into the vault of her mind.

*Just a little stretching. Doesn’t it feel better, now that our body matches our power?*

Logan could hardly see down past her massive mammaries and then she remembered the mirror. She stepped out of the tub, ignoring the water that ran everywhere and moved to the mirror. The woman that looked back at Logan was stunning. Logan’s red hair had been replaced with long midnight tresses and her figure was an exaggerated hourglass. In fact it was as if she’d been reshaped into the perfect male sex fantasy. ‘How can tits this big look so firm?’ the thought drifted through Logan’s stunned mind.

After a few seconds of astonished staring some of the finer details began to penetrate Logan’s masculine brain. She slowly reached up and touched the small, cute, metallic horns pushing out from the hair on her brow. Then she looked at her hands. They were longer and the fingernails could substitute for claws. In fact unless Logan was completely wrong they also seemed metallic. Then she noticed that her skin while still light was now a shade of red. Getting a good view of her waist and hairless crotch was challenging with her new breasts but Logan saw that at some point below her knees her legs sort of shifted looking like nothing a human would have. The skin hardened until it was more like scales than skin and where her feet should be there was a pair of taloned appendages. Then it hit Logan these looked more like the hind legs of a dragon.

Logan felt her wings shift in response to her confused thoughts and out of curiosity tried to spread them. The wings responded instantly and she realized that she could touch each wall of the bathroom with them and still not have them fully spread. The underside of her wings was the same midnight color of her hair while the back of them matched her skin tone. Then with a thought Logan folded them and realized that folded they looked like some great cape.

‘What have you done to me?’

*I’ve just shown you our true shape.*

‘Can we change back?’

*Of course. But why would we?*

‘Because, no one will recognize me, for one. For two, we’ll scare the hell out of everyone!’

*Oh, poo.* There was the sound of a pout in Melchiresa’s thought and then Logan felt the energy that filled her body slowly pull back. When it did Logan noticed how Melchiresa did it and felt sure that she’d be able to duplicate the move. As the energy receded Logan watched in fascination as her body seemed to shimmer and shift and in a few seconds the familiar form of Molly Falk stared back at Logan from the mirror.

“Thank God!”

*Hehehehehehe . . .*

By the time night was falling Logan had just finished getting ready. After her bath she returned to her room for a quick nap. A pounding on the door roused Logan and she saw that it was Molly. He was dressed in a clean set of clothes and his hair was still damp from using the water room.

“Um . . . I was wondering if you needed help?”

“With what?”

“Well, getting ready. I didn’t pack any nice clothes in but there’s a bit of makeup and I can help you with your hair.”

At first Logan thought about refusing but then relented and let Molly in. The makeup consisted of a little lipstick, foundation and mascara. The skills that Logan had gained from the medallion when she became Molly came in handy now. Molly watched with an amused look on his face as Logan took care of the basics. Then Molly helped Logan with her hair. The soft, fine, red hair under Molly’s expert hands was put into a style that braided the bangs and wrapped them around her head while allowing the rest to flow down her shoulders.

“I swear that your hair is at least a couple of inches longer than it was three days ago.”

“Hair doesn’t grow that fast.” Logan tried to argue.

When they were done Logan had to admit to the reflection in the bedroom mirror, that the woman staring back was very beautiful, with her pale skin, red hair, and blue eyes.

“Well, my lady, are you ready to go to the ball?” Molly asked a smirk twitching his lips as he extended an arm.

Deciding to ignore the teasing Logan looked at her weapons belt. “Do you think we should bring them?”

“Naw, it’s a feast and we’re the guests of honor. We’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” with that Logan slipped her hand through Molly’s extended arm. “You know this is my first ball as a woman and I’m not even in a dress.”

“Ha! How about this, when we get back home, I’ll take you dancing and you can were one of my dresses.”

“Um, that sounds nice, but I’m not sure I’ll be ready for that.”

When Logan and Molly reached the main room they found Narmartë already waiting and to their surprise both Cainir and Othon were there. Now that they were out of their armor it was easy to see a family resemblance between Cainir and Othon. Both Elves were the same height and general build. Each Elven Ranger was tall, with broad shoulders and they looked a little out of place in formal tunic and trousers. As if they were each more comfortable in steel and leather than cloth. Cainir’s hair was a little lighter than Othon’s chestnut colored hair. And then there was Narmartë. The Captain was as tall as Othon and Cainir which gave her the height to look Molly in the eye. This made Logan feel positively short! Even with the height Narmartë in her light grey-sliver gown looked absolutely beautiful. She was thin, in the Elfish way, with small firm breasts that were enough to declare her gender without getting in the way.

Logan felt a flash of jealousy at Narmartë’s beauty and squished it but not before she felt Melchiresa stir.

*We’re more attractive in our true form.*

‘Shush! I don’t care if she’s prettier than me, I’m a guy!’

Othon and Cainir both bowed when they entered while Narmartë curtsied. “Are you ready?”

Molly was silent and when Logan glanced at him she saw that he was staring at Narmartë with a stunned look on his face. Feeling amused she stepped on his foot and said, “Yes, although I fear we’re both underdressed for tonight.”

“Nonsense,” Othon said. “We know you’re traveling and have limited access to formal raiment.”

Molly glared down at Logan but said, “Please, lead the way. I can only speak for myself, but I’m quite hungry.”

The walk to the village’s feast hall took them over several suspended bridges and around numerous buildings. The size, shape, and function of each building was different and unique but the one thing they all had in common was the delicate sweeping beauty. The three Elves kept up a steady dialogue about the village. Pointing out the function of the public buildings and the names of friends they passed. In fact the number of greetings and introductions caused them to take a considerable time getting to the feast hall. About half way to the hall Logan became convinced that the three rangers must know everyone in the village and that anyone who wasn’t going to attend the feast had made sure to find a spot along their route. After a few minutes Logan realized that the reason so many Elves had come out to see them must be simple curiosity. Most of these Elves had never seen an Atan before.

Then Logan caught sight of a great platform constructed of wood in the shape of a square. It was at least a hundred yards across with no roof or walls and it was by far the largest open area Logan had yet seen within Lindornëa. The platform had dozens of long tables set up and Elves were already mingling among the tables. The sounds of music drifted out over the night air and lights set within the boughs above the platform began to softly come alive.

For a second Logan felt like she’d fallen into one of the Tolkien movies that had come out a few years ago. Then she heard Molly clear his throat. When she glanced at him she saw him quirk an eyebrow and she didn’t need to ask to know what he meant. This was one of the most amazing things either of them had seen. Then when they arrived at the feast hall Narmartë brought them to a cluster of tall Elves standing in a clear area.

Logan spotted Sir Helcëtôr at the center of the crowd by the fact that he was taller than everyone else. When he caught sight of Narmartë he moved through the crowd toward them.

“Welcome Narmartë, sister-daughter, it warms my heart to see you in something other than field-clothes.”

At this Narmartë curtsied deeply bowing her head for a moment before looking up, “Uncle, may I present to you again, the Atan Elf-Friends Sornohen and Ilcaúrna.”

When Sir Helcëtôr nodded, Narmartë turned to Molly and Logan, “This is Sir Helcëtôr Thlim Ith Mindon, Knight-Commander of the Ondolindë Ranger Corps and Lord Protector of the Seven Villages of the Southern March. He has requested that you sit with him as we celebrate the victory at Quick Water Ridge.”

Logan was too startled by the formality of the setting to say anything and the beauty of the Elves was making it hard for her to think. Fortunately Molly recovered first, “We’d be honored to dine with Sir Helcëtôr.”

As if this were a signal the Elves began to move to the tables and sit down. Sir Helcëtôr and Narmartë led Molly and Logan to a table set at one end of the platform. The table rested on a slight dais and was perpendicular to the rest of the tables. This allowed the Elves eating here to see those at the other tables and was what Molly thought of as the head table. Molly and Logan found themselves sitting to either side of Sir Helcëtôr, with Narmartë sitting next to Molly, and a male Elf named Raegdil next to Logan. Raegdil was a cousin of Narmartë, although he made it clear that he wasn’t a ranger. He was a spell-singer who specialized in Ulmo’s Refrain, ‘whatever that was,’ Logan thought.

Once everyone at the feast had found a seat Sir Helcëtôr stood up and clapped his hands once. The sound was surprisingly loud and the hall quieted.

“Greetings my kinsmen and friends, we are gathered tonight to pay tribute to our fallen brothers and sisters and to thank Illúvatar for our victory over the forces of Morgoth. The minstrels will sing the song of the fallen, and will praise the valor of Erudaugron Toralaonel who led the charge against the Hruo and died while fighting the largest of them. We will hear of the might of Glanmerun Celeendthor who used his bow to kill the Orcs and when his battalion was attacked dropped his bow and with sword and shield slew the Orc Captain.” At this the Elves at the tables burst into cheering for the heroism of the fallen. When they quieted Sir Helcëtôr continued, “We will also hear of the rangers who protect us. Captain Narmartë and her troop discovered the raid and gave us the time to marshal our forces, but that wasn’t enough for our brave Captain, she and her rangers spent a night killing Orc scouts ensuring our trap would be a surprise.”

This time the applause was even louder. Narmartë was obviously a favorite of the Elves. When they quieted Sir Helcëtôr cleared his throat, “And we will sing of the Atan Elf-Friends Sornohen, and Ilcaúrna. How they assisted Narmartë and fought along with us against Morgoth’s servants.” There was a pause and then after a second a scattered applause that gradually got a little louder but Logan could tell it was halfhearted. As if the Elves present didn’t really know how to react to the human’s who’d helped fight the Orcs.

“Let the feast begin!”

At Sir Helcëtôr command servants started moving around the tables carrying trays of food and bottles of libation. After a moment Raegdil leaned over to Logan, “Do not be disturbed by the lackluster response to your deeds, Lady Ilcaúrna, most of my kin simply do not know what to think of the Atan.”

Logan was prevented from having to respond by a servant who offered to pour a glass of wine. After trying a sip of the light white wine Logan thought this was the best wine she’d ever had.

“Do they have miruvor in your land?” Raegdil asked.

“Yes, of course. Although wine has never been my favorite drink. I must confess this is the best I’ve ever tasted.”

“I’m not surprised. The grapes used for this came from the gardens of Yavanna in Valinor. King Turukáno brought these vines with him from Valinor and gifted them to Helcëtôr that he might enjoy a small taste of Valinor to ease his burden here in the Southern Marches.”

As the banquet continued Logan was impressed with the quality of the food, it was easily the best dinner she’d ever had. While they ate minstrels moved among the tables playing and entertaining. As the night deepened the crystals woven into the boughs above the feast platform shone brighter and brighter in a multitude of colored light. Logan discovered that besides tasting delicious the wine of the Elves was one of the stronger drinks she’d ever had.

“So my lady, Ilcaúrna, tell me of your land. Do you have kin? A husband perhaps?” Raegdil asked.

“Um, a husband? No.” Logan responded trying not to shudder. “My parents died several years ago and I don’t have any brothers or sisters. I do have several cousins.”

“Will they come searching for you? I would think that a woman as beautiful as you would cause her relatives much concern should you go missing.”

“No, not really. I’m a sailor. They’re used to me disappearing for months at a time.” Then Logan blinked. She must really be drunk. She wasn’t a sailor anymore, she was a civilian, but even so her cousins wouldn’t come looking for her. Besides if they did they’d never recognize her!

By the time the last course had been served Logan thought her sides would split from eating so much. This had easily been the best meal she’d ever had and there was a part of her that wished she could continue. But her stomach told her that there wasn’t room for any more food. Then the lights dimmed and a minstrel with a harp came forward and began to sing of the fallen. As the first notes were struck the hall fell silent.

Logan felt a stirring in the air and Melchiresa sort of sat up and took notice. The music was hauntingly beautiful and then when the singer started in Logan felt as though she could see the battle unfold. Morgoth’s forces crossing into Nevrast in small bands to avoid notice was clever. Then as they paused to gather their strength the forces under Sir Helcëtôr’s command struck. The foul ones weren’t ready yet they fought with a desperate rage. The Hruo or Mountain Trolls had fought hard and had proven very difficult to kill. The bard then sang of Erudaugron Toralaonel who charged the Captain of the Hruo and defeated him breaking the spirit of the Trolls. In Logan’s mind’s eye she could see the battle play out. An Elf Captain in shining green and gold armor fighting a Troll more than half again his height and three times his weight. Spear versus club, skill versus brute force, the battle unfolded as the Elf wounded the Troll. Then in a full rage the Troll charged faster than the Elf had expected and setting the butt of his spear against the ground he impaled the Troll. But in its rage the Troll moved forward and brought its club down on the Elf. Even though he was wearing a helmet it was no use against the raw power of the Troll. And both Elven and Hruo captains died. Logan felt a lump in her throat and her eyes get watery at the beauty and bravery of the fallen hero.

Then the minstrel moved on to a battalion of archers. Logan saw a vision of Elves moving through the woods to take up firing positions. At the edge of the wood they watched as the Orcs charged attempting attack the Elven center. Then Captain Glanmerun Celeendthor gave the command and the archers loosed a volley. The arrows fell like a deadly hail upon the Orcs. From their position the battalion wreaked havoc upon the Orc’s, such that the Orc Captain ordered a sally against them. The speed with which the Orcs reacted caught the Elves by surprise. The picket line between the archers and the Orcs was over run and when there wasn’t anything between the battalion and the rushing enemy, Captain Glanmerun ordered the withdrawal of his force. Then he drew his sword and led his personal guard in an attack on the Orcs in an attempt to buy the time needed for the archers to escape. Logan felt her heart race as one by one the members of Glanmerun’s House-guard fell until only the captain stood surrounded by foes his bright sword flashing in fury and then, eventually, he was born under by a tidal wave of Orcs.

Logan now felt tears streaming down her cheeks as the minstrel moved on singing about how Glanmerun’s sacrifice slowed the Orc advance and caused them to divide their forces. She sang of how this slowing had allowed the archers to escape. Then the song and vision shifted. Now Knight Commander Sir Helcëtôr at the center of the battle called upon the reserve and led the charge personally. His assault was like thunder upon a plain rolling over the Orcs smashing all sense of organization as he drove to the middle of the host and confronted the Orc Commander. The battle between the Orc and Helcëtôr had been a brief vicious fight and it ended when Helcëtôr’s bright blade removed the Orc’s head from his shoulders.

Once their leader fell the fight went out of the Orc raiders and they fled the field allowing the victorious Elves to pursue them. As the notes of the song wound down the vision that had filled Logan’s mind also faded. She shook her head and looked around the hall and noticed that she wasn’t the only one who’d been entranced by the song.

Sir Helcëtôr looked over at Logan, “Ilcaúrna, well did Narmartë name you Elf-Friend, for unless I miss my guess you’ve just experienced the Olorlirilla. The Song-Vision only comes to those who can truly hear the music of Ainur.”

Logan shook her head and wiped her eyes, “I don’t know anything about the music of Ainur. But I could actually see the battle unfold and the heroes as they fought the darkness.”

Helcëtôr nodded, “Yes, even so. Only those who can hear the music are so deeply affected. Both you and Sornohen can hear the music. You are rare among the Atan.”

Logan felt like she needed to squirm under the intense blue eyed gaze of Helcëtôr. He knew there was a mystery here and she could tell he wanted to understand it.

Then the night was shattered by the clang of a mighty bell being struck. For a second everyone sat in stunned silence and then the sound reverberated through the hall again. Now there was an explosion of activity as Elves surged to their feet. Then screams from the edge of the village reached them and fire lit the night.

“What’s going on?!” Logan asked surging to her feet.

Helcëtôr looked over at Logan, a stunned look on his face, “We’re under attack.” Then he was moving, shouting orders and the Elves leapt to obey.

Logan looked over at Molly who’d climbed to his feet looking around as if expecting to be attacked at any second. When their eyes meet Logan couldn’t resist saying, “I told you we should have brought weapons.”

Then Molly grinned, “I brought mine.”

With that he held out his left hand and once again light seemed to coalesce around it forming a trident. Logan couldn’t help feeling annoyed.

“That’s totally unfair!”

Just then there was a sound like thunder and the branches above them burst into flame as something dropped through the boughs to land on the platform knocking everyone in the area from their feet. The creature stood up and Logan felt a thrill of fear course through her, the creature was at least ten feet tall and wreathed in flame and darkness at the same time. Then it cracked its whip and drew a sword that burst into fire.

Narmartë’s horrified shout cut through the chaos. “May Illúvatar save us, a BALROG!”

Author Note:

1: This story is based on the Altered Fates Universe concept established by Jennifer Adams, however I’ve taken some artistic liberties so this story doesn’t strictly adhere to the rules Jennifer established.

2: This is also a fanfic of the J.R.R. Tolkien world of Middle Earth in an untold tale of the First Age. Please note; I didn’t stay completely true to the Middle Earth that Tolkien set up. This is my take on what Middle Earth in the First Age might have been like.

The Elves scattered as the Balrog lashed out. Its’ whip caught a table and flipped it over causing it to burst into flames. Sir Helcëtôr shouted something Logan couldn’t hear and light blasted from his outstretched hand striking the Balrog in the chest. Then something happened Logan would never forget. The creature laughed! The echo of its malevolent laughter resonated around the hall even as it struck with its whip and sword, killing the Elves closest to it.

Molly jumped forward and shouted something Logan couldn’t quite hear, and then his trident now shining like the sun blazed up throwing the shadows back. Without saying anything else he threw it at the Balrog. The beast of flame and darkness twisted using its sword to block the strike. And then it lashed out at Molly. Somehow he managed to summon another trident before the Balrog’s sword could strike home and blocked it. Light flared and the concussion knocked several Elves from their feet. Logan felt the power wash over her but it didn’t touch her, at the same time she felt her tattoo stir. Without thinking about it Logan reached for Melchiresa pulling the power into her.

Logan felt the world twist as her clothes burst under her expanding and changing flesh. Some instinct told Logan that she needed to do everything she could to defeat this opponent or the entire village would be nothing more than ashes by morning. The heady rush of power left Logan gasping as her flesh shifted and changed, and then it was over.

When Logan looked up most of the Elves had fled. Molly was fighting the Balrog only it wasn’t exactly Molly. He’d changed. He was now of a height with the Balrog and was the spitting image of the Spartan Warrior Logan had gotten tattooed onto his shoulder. Molly was using a shield and the glowing trident to fight the Balrog, and it looked like he was holding his own.

Then Logan stretched and for the first time was able to spread her wings to their full extent. Before Logan could help Molly nearly two dozen Orcs dropped through the boughs to land on the platform. Knowing she had to act quickly, before they could join the fight, Logan swept a clawed hand at those to her right. A gust of wind sprang into existence throwing half of the Orcs from the platform to send them tumbling and spinning to the ground several hundred feet below.

*At last, we fight!*

The gleeful shout from Melchiresa was something Logan didn’t have time to deal with right then. A few Elves led by Othon and Cainir were fighting the Orcs to her left so she didn’t dare use air to brush them from the platform. Then a bellow from the Balrog caused Logan to look back at the duel between the monster and Molly. The Balrog had dropped its whip and its arm hung useless to one side while Molly crouched behind his shield trident at the ready. Evidently he’d gotten through the creature’s defenses and wounded it.

“Thou dare raise thy hand against me, mortal? I shall drink thy blood and feast upon your soul!”

The creature’s voice was enough to cause several of the Elves present to fall to the floor covering their ears. However, Logan saw an opening and lifted her hand to point at the creature. A bar of intense white-hot flame shot out to strike the creature in the chest. It threw its head back and shrieked in an agony so intense that the world seemed to shudder around Logan.

Logan flapped her wings and, in the lesser gravity, this was all she needed to fly to Molly’s side. She landed lightly and glanced at Molly, “So, you’re not feeling anything weird from your tattoos?!”

“Okay, maybe Kratos has been talking to me. He didn’t want everyone to know about it. Sue me.”

“Who art thou to oppose me?”

The Balrog had climbed back to its feet and Logan knew that while it was hurt it wasn’t out of the fight yet.

“We are of no consequence.” Molly said, moving forward and to one side, away from Logan.

Suddenly Logan was aware that she was completely naked. ‘Um . . . clothes would be nice.’

*Of course.*

Suddenly Logan felt a corset, leather pants, and knee high boots materialize around her body. Then she lifted her right hand and felt the hilt of a Kris solidify while her left hand was writhed in a pentagram of flame.

“Thou art MAIAR!”

The Balrog’s shouted accusation resonated around the platform, and then it threw its’ sword at Molly. Before the sword struck Molly’s shield, it gestured at Logan and a spear of darkness shot toward her. Logan didn’t know what it was and twisted to avoid it. The darkness missed most of Logan but she hadn’t taken her wings into account and pain seared Logan’s mind as the darkness slashed a hole into the membrane of her left wing. Before either Molly or Logan could act, the Balrog threw itself from the platform, darkness swirled around it as it fell forming a giant set of wings. The Balrog soared to one side converting the speed of its descent into the energy it needed to glide away.

Logan snapped her wings and felt the wound tear further. Molly ran to the edge of the platform and hurled his trident at the receding monster. The Balrog sensed the attack and swerved at the last instant and even though it avoided the trident it slammed into a tree setting several branches aflame before tumbling the rest of the way to the ground below. With a shout Molly jumped from the platform and dropped to the ground.

“Son of a bitch!”

Logan rushed to the edge of the platform and looked down. Molly was already climbing to his feet apparently unharmed. With a deep breath she jumped from the platform. Her wings scooped the air and Logan felt the tear get bigger and then she reached out to the air, somehow knowing how manipulate it. The pressure on her wings eased to the point where Logan thought she could fold them and she still wouldn’t fall. By the time she touched down Logan saw that the Balrog was on its feet and attempting to run. Molly had been faster and caught it. The Balrog was a being of black-flame and darkness and Molly shone golden and crimson against the shadow. It was almost as if Molly’s bright power fought the shadow just as the two fought. Dark fire blasted toward Molly and Logan felt the flame within her mind and reached out for it.

“So you like to play with fire do you?” Logan snarled, and spun her hand. The flame strike was deflected up before it touched Molly and spun around in a tight circle before it smashed back down into the Balrog. The creature threw back its head and screamed, again, and the tree next to it burst into flame. Then panting the Balrog glared at Molly and Logan.

“Tell me your names, Maiar, that I might know the identity of the ones who will end Gorlung.”

“Names have power Gorlung, but you may call me Sornohen, and this is my friend Ilcaúrna.”

“A small courtesy, that, for thou art not Elves. The spirit within you comes from beyond Arda.”

Suddenly a horn sounded, followed by another, and another. The Elves of Lindornëa were organizing and counter attacking. A set of shrill bugles and whistles responded and the shouts of battled drifted forward. The Orcs were pressing forward, yet even though the village had been caught by surprise it was responding rapidly to the threat.

“Ha! Fly while you can, fools, your doom is upon you!” Gorlung shouted with glee. “My Lord, Gothmog, Captain of Angband, approaches!”

Then the ground shook and leaves fell upon them like rain. Logan sensed more than heard the heavy sound of approaching footsteps. Then her sight was swept away as a vision gripped her mind. In the distance she saw a Balrog, and another, and another, they were all attacking the edge of the village and the Elves were falling before them in an effort to slow down the attack. Then Logan’s sight focused in on the Balrog leading the attack. This Balrog was half again taller than the rest and as he moved through the forest the trees shuddered and burst into flame.

“DIE!”

Molly’s shout brought Logan back to herself in time to see him throw his trident at Gorlung. Even as the glowing trident flashed through the air Molly pulled out his Gladius and raced toward the injured Balrog. Gorlung tried to get his good arm up to catch the trident but he was too slow. The weapon hit him in the chest and there was a clap like thunder, and Gorlung was thrown back pinned to a tree by the trident. Then Molly struck, his sword came down in a short overhand chop the clove Gorlung’s head in two.

For a second it felt like reality twisted and the very fabric of the world groaned, then Gorlung burst into a blue-white flame burning to ash in an instant. As the ashes fell to the ground Logan felt as though a great shadow had departed and her heart soared. Then the shouts from the approaching Balrogs rang out.

“Do you think they sensed Gorlung’s death?”

“I don’t think we should stick around to find out.” Logan pointed, “Gothmog is still at the edge of the village, we should try to find Sir Helcëtôr and figure out what they are doing to defend the village.”

Molly looked at Logan in surprise, “You can see Gothmog?”

“Yeah, why?”

Molly shrugged, “I can sense the approach of something terrifying but I can’t see anything yet.”

Logan paused to consider, “There are six Balrogs and Gothmog. Gothmog is much taller and stronger looking than the rest of the Balrogs. He’s taller than you as well. I can see them when I focus, but not with my eyes, if that makes sense.”

Molly gulped, “Six? Shit. Okay let’s link up with the rest of the village’s defenders and see what we can organize.”

Just then a shout drew Molly and Logan’s attention. Standing on one of the tree bridges a dozen yards away was Cainir waving at them.

“My Lord Sornohen, my Lady Ilcaúrna, come. Sir Helcëtôr is in need of you.”

Logan found a scabbard at her side and sheathed her Kris and caused the fire surrounding her left wrist to go out and then leapt into the night, using the air to lift her up to the rope bridge without using her injured wing. A second later Molly landed behind her.

“Lead the way good Cainir.”

The Elf took off moving with the speed and grace of an Elven Ranger. Molly and Logan found that it was easy to keep up. In short order they arrived at a building set partly upon the ground and partly within a large tree. The building was lit by dozens of glowing crystals and Elves in every state of dress, from partly clothed to fully armed and armored, rushed around. Before Cainir could lead them into the hive of activity Logan laid a clawed hand on his shoulder stopping him.

“Cainir, what news of Othon and Narmartë?”

“Othon died on the end of an Orc spear. I avenged him, may the light of Illúvatar shine on him forever.”

For the first time Logan realized that Cainir was splattered in black Orc blood and his face was bruised.

“As for Narmartë, she fled under the cover of Sir Helcëtôr’s spell. I expect she’s been assigned one of the most challenging jobs defending this village. Now come.”

Cainir lead them into the large open room Sir Helcëtôr was using and paused for a moment to let Logan and Molly take in the scene. The headquarters reminded Logan of a Tactical Operations Center (TOC) only the Elves were using enchanted mirrors as monitors, and spell-sung stones to communicate with the counter attacking forces. It only took a glance to see that Sir Helcëtôr had his hands full. He was fighting a defensive battle as he tried to buy time for the villagers to escape. Then he turned and spotted Molly and Logan and his eyes widened.

It was only a quick look and then he returned to issuing orders but Logan knew they’d been spotted and it would only be a few minutes before Sir Helcëtôr spoke with them. While they waited Logan noticed that the Elves were giving the three of them a wide berth. It wasn’t like they were afraid of them, which surprised Logan a little since she looked like a demon at the moment, but more out of awe and respect. Then Logan sensed Sir Helcëtôr’s approach and turned to face him. Sir Helcëtôr nodded to Molly and then to Logan.

“Thank you. Your defeat of Gorlung blunted the initial attack. The dark one’s forces had intended to slay Lindornëa’s leaders with a decapitation strike. Thus leaderless the defenders would have been unorganized and easy prey to the attacking forces.”

“What of Gothmog? He’s leading the attack, and unless I misunderstood my vision, they will be here soon.”

Sir Helcëtôr looked over at Logan and regarded her for a moment without any expression and then sighed, “My lady, I do not know why you chose a form like and yet unlike the servants of Morgoth, but I will not question one of the Maiar.” Sir Helcëtôr shook his head, “I’ve organized a counter strike. We will allow Gothmog to push forward, ahead of the rest of his forces and then we will hit him with the most formidable of our defenders.”

Suddenly a shout when up from the middle of the command center and Sir Helcëtôr hurried over to a large mirror. The mirror showed a narrow gully leading away from the village. The gully was full of Elven women and children but they’d stopped moving. At the far end of the gully a force of Orcs had taken the high ground and the fleeing Elves had stopped beyond arrow range. A troop of Elves lead by Narmartë was attempting to dislodge the Orcs. But a Balrog had moved forward. Narmartë and the beast were trading spells but she was being driven back.

“Damnation!” An Elf with a set of wings sweeping up from his silver helm, said and then looked at Sir Helcëtôr. “How did they know about the escape route?”

“It matters naught. Do we have a squad that can relieve them?”

“Nay, milord. All our forces are committed to slowing the attack and trapping Gothmog.”

With that Sir Helcëtôr looked at another mirror. Gothmog was now out ahead of the rest of the attackers charging through the trees. Elven warriors fled before him pausing once in a while to fire an enchanted arrow before resuming their flight. Another mirror showed a force of mounted Elves with tall helms, and the barding of Knights, waiting in a dark grove, impatient for battle.

“I must stop Gothmog or all is lost.” Sir Helcëtôr looked at the Elf in the winged helm, “Pray to Illúvatar that Captain Narmartë can overcome that beast.” Then he turned and looked at Logan and Molly, “I would be honored if you would both stand by me and face Gothmog.”

Before Molly could respond Logan said, “Perhaps there is a way to save the villagers.”

Sir Helcëtôr shook his head, “I don’t see how. Our first priority is stopping Gothmog. But even if I wanted to, I don’t have a force I can send that will reach them in time.”

Logan stretched her wings noting that the tear had healed, “I can get there in time.” Then she turned to Molly, “Go with Sir Helcëtôr and kill Gothmog. I’ll fly out and help Narmartë.”

“Let it be done.” Sir Helcëtôr said.

Molly looked a little worried but nodded and said in English, “Take care of yourself, I’ll never forgive you if you get yourself killed.”

Logan nodded and spun around to race out of the building. She cast her mind into the ether and felt Narmartë’s psychic presence. She was several miles away to the north. Logan spread her wings and summoned the wind. A gust lifted her into the air and her vision shifted so that it was as easy for her to see in the dark as in the daylight. Knowing she didn’t have much time Logan summoned more and more wind until all she could hear was the whistling rush of air as she shot above the trees.

As Logan soared through the night air she looked down spotting pockets of fighting as the Elves desperately sought to slow the onslaught. Her vision, a blessing a few minutes earlier, was now a curse as she saw a squad of Elves cut down by a troop of Orcs. For a second she was tempted to drop down and help, but she knew that if she did the refugees would die. The flight only took a few more seconds and then Logan could see the gully between the trees and dove toward the fight.

Narmartë and been forced back and the Orcs were advancing along the high ground already ranging in on the trapped Elves, and their deadly bolts were beginning to strike home. Then with the sound of a hurricane Logan swooped over the advancing Orcs. She drew her Kris and pointed it at the Orcs below. Logan felt the metal within the blade and then she sensed the metal below respond. The Orcs shrieked as every knife, spear, sword, and arrowhead twisted becoming useless. But the spell didn’t stop there; helms twisted and contracted crushing the skulls within, breast plates collapsed as though struck by a giant hammer as Logan soared over the Orcs.

‘Did I do that?’ Logan wondered, already knowing the answer.

*We are the mistress of air, fire, and metal. Twisting it to suit our purposes is child’s play.* Melchiresa responded.

Then she was past them turning in a tight circle Logan landed between the Balrog and Narmartë. As she landed she flared her wings and sent a gust of air out that knocked both Narmartë and the Balrog off their feet. Logan lifted her hand and saw that it was once again wreathed in blue-white fire.

“Ardebit!” Logan shouted and pointed her hand at the Balrog. A bar of tightly controlled blue-white flame shot out. But the Balrog was quick and dove to one side. The creature came to its feet and threw something toward Logan. This time Logan felt Melchiresa wanting to do something and allowed her to guide them. The dozen darts of darkness struck a field of hardened air exploding in a series of detonations.

Logan took a quick glance at Narmartë who was slowly climbing to her feet. Her side was drenched with blood but she had a grim look of determination on her face. Then Logan felt the field of hardened air collapse under a blow from the black blade wielded by the Balrog. Logan lashed out with the Kris and to her surprise she realized that the blade had grown from its normal foot long length to over three feet. The Balrog was as fast as a serpent and blocked her strike causing a shock from the impact to run up her arm.

The Balrog spun in an impossibly fast circle lashing out with a backhand strike at Logan. Logan tried to duck but somehow knew she wasn’t going to be quick enough and then the black blade twisted missing Logan by inches. Logan lunged forward driving her Kris into the Balrog’s shoulder and when she ripped her blade free she mentally tugged on the blade in the Balrog’s hand. With its shoulder ruined the beast couldn’t maintain a tight grip on its black sword and it tumbled away.

“Maiar Bitch! I will take thee to the abyss with me!”

With that the Balrog lunged forward grabbing Logan around the throat with its uninjured hand. Logan drove her Kris into the Balrog’s gut but the creature of flame and darkness ignored it. Logan twisted the blade and tried to pull it up and gut the Balrog but she felt her vision grow dim. Then she was falling back and for a second she was confused. The clawed hand was still at her throat but it had no strength and then she realized it had been severed at the wrist.

Narmartë stood over the Balrog her armor now blazing silver white and even though her side was drenched with blood she looked determined. She swung her sword, covered in black gore, at the Balrog’s neck. Even though its’ arm had been severed the monster wasn’t done. It spoke a word of power that twisted upon the night air and Narmartë was thrown back before her blow could strike home. The distraction was all that Logan had needed, she held out her flaming left hand and white hot fire lashed out. This time the Balrog was too slow to avoid the strike. The fire hit the creature in the chest and its own unnatural black flame blazed up as if trying to convert the white flame to its purpose.

Suddenly Logan felt the dark will of the Balrog forcing her fire to change. Logan instinctively knew what to do and threw her will against the Balrog, ordering the white fire to consume the monster. For a long moment they were evenly matched and then Melchiresa added her will to Logan’s. The Balrog’s will collapsed under their combined assault and the white fire blazed up in a pillar of flame almost twenty feet high. Both Logan and Narmartë stumbled back and Narmartë covered her ears to shut off the dyeing screams of the servant of Morgoth. Once again Logan felt the world around them shudder as a dark shadow departed.

Logan looked around and saw that the Orcs that had held the high ground to either side of the gully had fled. When she glanced at the Elves they were looking at her with awe in their eyes.

“Come, we dare not tarry. The forces of Morgoth are attacking Lindornëa in numbers too great for us to defeat.” Logan said. She then looked at Narmartë who now that the fight had ended had sunk to her knees. Logan hurried to her side. The blow from the Balrog had cut through her armor and left a deep wound in her side. Logan had seen worse on the battlefield after an IED but the wounded soldier had died before they’d been able to medevac him.

‘Is there anything we can do?’ Logan thought.

*Yes, but you’ll have to give me control.*

‘Fine.’

Logan felt Melchiresa surge forward and she knew that she needed to sort of let go. Logan felt her eyes blink and then she knelt next to Narmartë. It was the oddest thing, to be a passenger in your own body, yet she somehow knew if she wanted to she could have taken control.

*Watch closely.*

Melchiresa sheathed the Kris and then reached down to cover the wound with her right hand. Then with her left hand, now devoid of the flaming pentagram, she touched Narmartë’s forehead.

“Et Totum!”

Logan could feel a surge of power come from within her and move through her hands into Narmartë. As it did she could sense Narmartë’s body in a new way, she could feel the pain of Narmartë’s wounds, an angry red wrongness within her body. Logan felt Melchiresa send her energy at the wrongness soothing it, nudging it, changing it from the angry red to the soothing blue that was Narmartë’s natural aura.

*There,* there was a satisfied tone in Melchiresa’s voice. *All done.*

Then Logan felt Melchiresa’s control fade and she stood up and looked around. Somehow Logan knew that only a few seconds had passed.

“Will she live, Great-One?”

The Elven woman had a small child strapped to her front and a large pack on her back, yet her face showed that she was concerned for Narmartë.

“Yes, but she must rest. Much of the energy for the healing came from her, and using the song as much as she has this night has further exhausted her.” The words came out of Logan’s mouth but she knew they were from Melchiresa. Then she heard Melchiresa’s voice in her mind, *I have used much of my power this night as well and must rest.* Then her awareness of Melchiresa faded.

Logan felt tired, exhausted mentally and physically and then her body shifted. She felt herself shrinking her wings and horns disappearing and then she was standing next to the Elven woman in her human form. Logan was a little surprised to note that she was still wearing the clothes Melchiresa had summoned. She heard a faint giggle in the back of her mind, *I can’t have you running around naked* and then Melchiresa’s presence was gone.

Tired as she was Logan reached down and picked Narmartë up. “Thank goodness for lower gravity,” she said in English and then looked over at the Elven woman.

“You will have to lead, I don’t know the way.”

“It will be my honor Lady Ilcaúrna.”

Molly watched as Logan disappeared into the night sky. There was a part of his brain that noticed the delectable female curves and wanted to pursue her. Logan felt a twitching on his back and pushed back, willing Boreas to be still.

“Come, friend Sornohen, we must travel quickly if we are to stop Gothmog.” Sir Helcëtôr said.

Molly turned to the tall Elven warrior, noting how his armor glowed softly in the night. Tall as he was Molly stood head and shoulders taller and he could feel raw masculine power coursing through his veins. Kratos, growled wordlessly in the back of his mind, urging him to battle.

“Lead on, Sir Helcëtôr, for it is a beautiful night for battle.”

The tall Elf set out at a swift run and when he saw that Molly had no trouble keeping up increased his pace. As they ran Elfish warriors seemed to materialize around them. Before they’d gone more than half a mile they had collected two score warriors.

“What do you know of the Balrog Gothmog?” Helcëtôr’s question caught Molly off guard.

“Nothing, other than that he is the Balrog Captain leading this assault and must die.”

At this Sir Helcëtôr gave Molly a strange look. “As a Maiar, I don’t have to tell you that the Balrog’s are Maiar who followed Morgoth into the shadow. Gothmog is chief among them. He slew Fëanor and all of the Noldor owe him for that ill deed. His strength is more than we can stand against alone, your coming gives us hope this night.”

Abruptly Sir Helcëtôr slowed and they entered a grove. At the far end stood at least twenty knights along with the finest horses Molly had ever seen. As a young girl she’d had a fondness for horses and that had turned into years of riding lessons. These horses were beyond anything Molly had ever seen, taller with cleaner lines, they were built for speed and power and she knew that if she could take a few with her back to Earth they’d be worth millions in stud fees alone.

Sir Helcëtôr moved to a great pale horse and climbed into the saddle accepting a long silver lance from one of the warriors who’d been waiting in the grove. He turned to Molly, “Sornohen, there is a path, a dozen yards in that direction.” Sir Helcëtôr pointed to Molly’s left with his lance. “Gothmog is moving down it as it leads to the heart of Lindornëa. The trees are now filled with our best archers and spell-singers. They will keep the trees from flaming and will use their power to suppress Gothmog. When the horn sounds I will lead my knights in a charge. If Illúvatar is with us, this will be enough to end the Lord of the Balrogs. I ask that you follow behind me and my knights and do what you think best.” Then he glanced at the warriors who’d followed from the command center, “These brave souls will cover our retreat should that become necessary.”

Molly nodded but he could feel that Kratos wasn’t happy with this arrangement.

*We should lead the charge. These Calaquendi have the heart for battle but in this fight they lack the strength.*

The first time Kratos had spoken to Molly he thought he was going crazy. Now the voice of the gruff warrior was a comforting presence within his mind.

‘If we lead the charge we’ll be between them and Gothmog. They will be forced to slow down and try to come at the Balrog from the sides. The strength of the charge is in the speed and weight of the horse and warrior striking together. It is best to let them make their strike first.’

Molly could feel that Kratos wasn’t happy with the answer but he understood the logic and said nothing. Molly focused on summoning another trident and made sure he was ready to play his part. After a few seconds of waiting Molly felt the ground tremble and knew the mighty Balrog was approaching.

“What of the other Balrogs?” Molly asked. “Even if Gothmog is slain, they will press the assault, will they not?”

Sir Helcëtôr had been looking toward the approaching Lord of Balrogs and glanced at Molly. His face was pale and Molly knew that the approaching creature was having an effect on the waiting Elves.

“Yea, verily, the attack will continue. But the force of it will be blunted. The other Balrogs will wonder how Gothmog could have been slain and will pull back, at least for a short time. That time is precious for it will allow our evacuation to succeed.” While Sir Helcëtôr was speaking the fear in his eyes receded but Molly somehow sensed this wasn’t enough. Something in Molly made him turn to face the gathered Elves.

“Hear me, O Warriors of Nevrast!” The words flowed from Molly but he could sense Kratos and rather than suppress him Molly allowed him to continue speaking, “Fear, fire, and red-handed foes approach. A host of fell creatures with the power of the Enemy of Light within each breast is upon us. This is a red night, for tonight blood will be spilled, tonight we will take the light of our righteous anger and cast it as defiance against the forces of the night.” As he spoke Molly found his voice growing louder and louder, and as it did it took on a strange quality. Every eye in the clearing was now upon him and for a moment he wondered what it was they expected.

“Rejoice, for thou art the chosen warriors of Nevrast! Noldor or Sindar, it matters not. For to us, good fortune has granted the chief task, we few, of all those who face battle this night shall face the sternest test.”

At this Molly could sense an indrawn breath as if the warriors around him were waiting on his next words, like a man dying of thirst in the desert waits for that one sip of water that will save him.

“I say to you REJOICE my brothers and sisters of the sword! For tonight is a beautiful night! Tonight we will put an end to Gothmog and avenge the House of Fëanor!”

At this the Elves shouted and banged their swords against their shields drowning out the sound of the approaching Balrog. The noise was such that the call of the silver horn almost went unnoticed. Sir Helcëtôr lifted his hand and for a moment no one seemed to notice. Then he stood up in the stirrups and gestured with his lance before setting his horse into motion. Upon seeing their Commander move the rest of the Elven Knights followed and Molly set out at a loping run behind them. They were through the trees and onto the road in a matter of seconds.

The road was clear and straight, bitter clouds of black smoke blotted out the moon’s light, but the light was unnecessary. Moving down the road on cloven hooves a Balrog almost fifteen feet tall strode. It carried a red-flaming sword in one hand and a great iron ball shaped like a closed fist, attached to its wrist by a black chain, in the other. The iron fist had been rough forged with sigils of the blackest power stamped into each knuckle. Molly could see the red hate-filled glow of those sigils from where he was and knew this was an ancient power. For a moment he stumbled but then Kratos fierce spirit surged forward and Molly picked up his pace readying himself.

Then Sir Helcëtôr lifted a silver bugle to his lips and blew a mighty blast of the purest sound Molly had ever heard. For an instant he had a vision of an ice filled plain and a host of Elves locked in battle with Ice-Beasts of the far North. Then the vision vanished and arrows flew from the trees around Gothmog. Each arrow glowed with Elven-magic as it darted toward the Balrog. Yet the darkness swirled around him and the arrows vanished in that ill-fog doing no harm to Angband’s Captain. Spell fire fell upon Gothmog only to vanish before touching him and then he swung his mighty ball and chain in a great circle.

The sound of the Fist of Angband as it tore through the air was like a thousand fingernails on a thousand chalk boards and then it smashed through the base of a giant tree. The tree burst into flame and toppled taking the Elfish archers with it while setting the trees next to it aflame. Gothmog swung again this time to his left smashing through another tree with the same result. By the screams of the dying Elfish archers and spell-singers Molly knew a steep price had been paid.

Sir Helcëtôr was in front of the charging Knights. They had fallen into a wedge formation with Sir Helcëtôr the point of the wedge. Lances were set as the Knights raced forward their hooves sounded like thunder. As fast as the Knights were, none were as swift as Sir Helcëtôr and he soon separated himself from his fellows by several horse lengths. Molly had been running behind the Knights and now using all the momentum of his charge he hurled his trident. It flashed through the air and struck Gothmog just as he turned. The thunder clap of the strike momentarily stunned Gothmog and Sir Helcëtôr took full advantage. Gothmog hadn’t anticipated the speed of Sir Helcëtôr’s charge and then the distraction of Molly’s blow left him open.

Sir Helcëtôr drove his lance into the heart of the darkness with a flash of silver light and then swerved to the right ducking low in the saddle to avoid Gothmog’s counter stroke with his flaming sword. There was an inhuman bellow and Molly couldn’t tell if it was pain or rage. Then Gothmog swung the Fist of Angband on its chain at the charging Knights blasting through the formation like a bowling-ball striking pins, killing half of them with a single blow. The courage of the Noldor was in full form as the remaining Knights drove their shining lances into Gothmog. The Lord of Balrogs appeared to be unfazed and managed to kill a pair of Knights with his sword and then those that had survived were past him turning and drawing swords.

Now there was nothing between Molly and Gothmog and he summoned another trident putting all the might he could into an over hand thrust. Tall as he was Molly realized that Gothmog was taller, if only by a foot, and he wouldn’t be as easy to kill as Gorlung. Gothmog might have been wounded and in pain from the damage of the Knights attack, but if he was Molly couldn’t tell as he blocked the trident with his sword and swung the Fist at Molly. Molly knew if that thing hit his shield it would destroy it and probably break his arm so he leapt back. As soon as the Fist was past Molly struck again and Gothmog didn’t have time to get his sword around. Molly felt his trident strike home against the armor Gothmog wore and the black iron of Angband was equal to the test turning the trident aside. Then Gothmog struck with his sword and the weight of the blow to Molly’s shield left his arm feeling numb.

“Tell me thy name Maiar that I might know the identity of the fool who comes against me!”

The language wasn’t English or Elven yet Molly knew what the words meant. It was as if Kratos translated for him. Molly opened his mouth and answered in the same tongue.

“To the abyss with thee Gothmog!” Molly shouted and then lunged forward fainting a high line attack before striking at Gothmog’s leg. This time he felt the trident bite through the thinner armor on Gothmog’s thigh. “Die in ignorance!”

Gothmog’s shriek of pain and anger caused the trees around them to burst into flame and he whipped the Fist of Angband up and down trying to smash Molly flat with it. Molly stepped to one side just as the remaining Knights led by Sir Helcëtôr rode by with bright swords flashing like silver darts in the night. Gothmog distracted by his battle with Molly hadn’t sensed the Knights approach but he reacted faster than Molly would have thought possible. A backhanded strike with his blade killed another Knight and then he spun around swinging the Fist of Angband to the full length of its chain. Almost as if watching in slow motion Molly saw the mighty iron ball come around striking Sir Helcëtôr and his warhorse in the side smashing through them.

“Noooo!”

The thunder of Molly’s cry echoed through the forest and he threw his trident and pulled his Gladius before charging forward. Somehow Gothmog managed to block the trident and then Molly was on him. Molly smashed his shield into Gothmog knocking him back and drove his sword forward into the black iron breastplate. The foul enchantments on that armor held for an instant and then Molly’s sword was through. Now it was Gothmog’s turn to scream as he stumbled back. For the first time since the fight began Molly sensed fear in Gothmog so he pressed his advantage calling on all the power Kratos could give him. Gothmog blocked Molly’s second thrust with his sword and then Molly chopped down on the wrist holding the Iron Fist of Angband. There was a flash as Gothmog’s iron gauntlet resisted the power of the blow and then it gave.

Molly spun away and felt a flash of fire in his side as Gothmog struck with his sword. Molly’s armor turned most of the force of the blow and even though the cut was painful Molly knew it wasn’t bad. Gothmog’s scream was filled with anger, pain, and fear. He stumbled back, the black stump of his left arm pumped fiery-blood into the night and Molly knew that now was the time to end this fight, when out of the darkness another Balrog immerged. This Balrog was closely followed by a second and then Orcs were swarming forward.

The Elves who had survived made a good accounting as they fired arrows and spells at the attacking Orcs slowing the tide. Then the Elfish reserve formed up in a battle line to protect the line of retreat. For a moment Molly considered taking the battle forward against Gothmog. The Captain of Angband was severely wounded and now was the time to finish him. Then one of the new Balrogs shouted and threw a spear at Molly. Molly lifted his shield and it shivered under the force of the blow.

“Fall back, fall back, everyone!”

Molly’s shouted command was obeyed by the Elves on the battlefield. Surprisingly the forces of Morgoth didn’t press their advantage. Molly sheathed his sword and picked up the shattered body of Sir Helcëtôr, with tears running freely down his face, he raced into the smoke filled night.

Author Note:

1: This story is based on the Altered Fates Universe concept established by Jennifer Adams, however I’ve taken some artistic liberties so this story doesn’t strictly adhere to the rules Jennifer established.

2: This is also a fanfic of the J.R.R. Tolkien world of Middle Earth in an untold tale of the First Age. Please note; I didn’t stay completely true to the Middle Earth that Tolkien set up. This is my take on what Middle Earth in the First Age might have been like.

Beams of blood red sunlight streamed through the tree branches giving the smoke filled air a dappled crimson caste. Molly looked over his shoulder at the Elfish warriors who’d survived the night and felt a quick stab of pain from his wounded side. Of the warriors who’d participated in the ambush of Gothmog scarcely three score remained. Twice during the retreat they’d had to turn and repulse the pursuing Orc Warbands. The first time the Orcs had been led by another Balrog. Molly had fought him to a stalemate and both had taken wounds before he’d been able to pull the Elves back. The second time they’d been caught the absences of a Balrog had enabled them to punish the Orcs before fleeing further into the forest. At that point Kratos had indicated that he needed a rest and had retreated within Molly’s mind. When this happened Molly felt his body shrinking back to his normal size yet somehow the armor and weapons remained. In a parting thought Kratos had told Molly to use them well.

It had been several hours since that last skirmish and Molly lifted his hand signaling a halt. The Elves carrying Sir Helcëtôr’s body laid it by a tree, reverent even in their exhaustion. Cainir moved up next to Molly, his quiver was empty but he’d kept his bow, now strapped to his back. His sword was currently sheathed and he was leaning on a spear he’d picked up at some point during the fighting.

“Sornohen, with the coming of dawn the host of Angband will rest.”

Molly nodded, “Yes, but we will not. Pass the word, Cainir, thirty minutes and then we move. Now that we’ve broken contact with our enemies we must slip away.” Cainir gave a quick salute and started to turn away before Molly stopped him. “Oh, one more thing. See if we have any officers among the survivors. I need to hold a quick meeting to determine our next move.”

Molly looked around at the Elves sprawled on the ground. There was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to sit down and rest. Yet the part that he’d inherited from Logan told him that he shouldn’t. With Sir Helcëtôr dead the Elves were depending on him to lead them. With a quiet sigh he moved toward a group of warriors.

“Thanradon,” Molly said spotting one of the Knights who’d ridden with Sir Helcëtôr resting with his back against a tree. “Glad am I to see that you’ve got the strength to hold up that tree.”

The Elf chuckled, his helm was gone and his face showed some serious bruising. “Aye, my Lord, the poor thing, it looked in need of a good bracing.”

The Elves around him laughed at his joke. Then one with short dark hair, a rare feature among the fair haired Elves, spoke up, “My Lord, Sornohen, what’s next? Will we give them the slip and take the hidden path to Ondolindë?”

Molly put a large hand on the warrior’s shoulder, “What and deprive the forest of more Orc blood?” This time there was more laughter and chorus of responses.

“Nay!”

“Now that would be a shame.”

“Aye, the trees enjoy a tasty bit of Orc.”

With that Molly moved on to another group of warriors and spotted a face he thought looked familiar. A grizzled, older Elf, with short hair and skin that looked like dried leather was standing by another knot of warriors leaning on his spear. Molly had seen him several times during the fighting and had even fought shoulder to shoulder with him at one point. He was the only one still standing and he’d been watching Molly as he spoke to the previous group. Even though he wasn’t facing Molly directly he followed Molly’s approach with his eyes.

Molly allowed a chuckle to fill his voice as he spoke. “Ho, Alion, I see that you managed to cheat death yet again. I thought after that last skirmish you’d found your way into an Orc cooking pot.”

The veteran spat to one side, “Naw, my Lord Sornohen, I offered to climb in if it meant I didn’t have to do any more walking but they threw me back. I guess I’m too old and chewy for these soft, younger, Orcs.”

There was a round of laughter and a couple of comments about this newer generation of “soft” Orcs. Molly let the laughter run out before he turned to Alion, “Come walk with me a moment Alion.”

The old solider moved forward and Molly noted despite what he’d said he was one of the few warriors who didn’t appear exhausted and although he’d been in the thick of the fighting he wasn’t injured. The two walked in silence until they were far enough away from the others to not be over heard.

“We’re in need of every leader this band has. What is your rank?”

Again, Alion spat to one side, “If yer, Lordship is thinking I’m some officer he can look elsewhere. I’m a sergeant, the First Spear of the Lindornëa scouts, or what’s left of them.”

“I’ll need an acting Sergeant Major.” At Alion’s confused look Molly realized he’d used an English word, “A First Spear. If we’re going to get this done I’ll need your help.”

At this Alion grunted, “And what would yer Captain-ship be wanting to get done?”

“I mean to organize this troop and then rally the surviving fighters. By nightfall I hope to have enough of a force to hold our own if we need to.”

“To what end?”

“I don’t know what the dark one’s plans are, but I’ve got a feeling that the attack on Lindornëa isn’t the sum of it.” Molly pointed to the east. “I suspect there are other villages out there, villages that suffered the same fate as Lindornëa, based on the rising smoke.”

Now Alion looked around squinting and then looked back at Molly, “You are well named Captain Sornohen. Aye,” then Alion gave Molly a hard look. “I saw what you were doing, just now, I’ve never met a Maiar before, but you’re a leader. Without you we wouldn’t have survived the night. I saw you’re duel with Gothmog, I’m with you.” Then he added with a grin, “Until I do find my way into an Orc cook pot.”

Just then Cainir approached, limping to his left was a tall blonde Elf whose name escaped Molly at the moment but he remembered the Elf from fighting Gothmog. In fact Molly was pretty sure he’d been one of the knights to have his horse killed by that damn iron ball. On Cainir’s other side walked a female Elf with a bow in her hands and a pair of sword hilts sticking up over her shoulders. ‘Probably one of the Archers who tried to pincushion Gothmog.’ Molly thought.

“My Lord, this is Sir Nenthal,” Cainir said indicating the tall Knight and then he gestured to the archer. “And this is Tanna Greenleaf, Master Archer, and leader of the Lindornëa Archers.”

“Leader of a broken troop isn’t much of a title, I’m just Tanna.”

Molly looked at the woman and saw that she was bruised and singed and had obviously seen some hard fighting. Yet despite it all she was attractive in an athletic sort of way. Molly felt a strange twitch in her groin and tried to ignore it.

“Alright then, let us be about this. While the light is with us we need to gather all the surviving fighters. Share out food and water as we can, rest and tend to the wounded as we’re able, but we must move. By nightfall we must be in position to strike the dark ones. The attack on Lindornëa wasn’t an isolated assault. All of Nevrast is under attack and if we’re to survive we must move quickly. Those unable to continue must be taken by the hidden way to Ondolindë.” Molly looked around at the grim faced Elves, “Are you with me.”

The chorus of “Ayes” was all Molly needed to hear. “Last night might have been a defeat, but I plan to make this campaign a costly one. We’ll set the toll so high that the host of Angband will groan under the strain.”

The bend in the swift flowing stream had obviously shifted over the years leaving behind a large flat. On either side of the river were towering bluffs and then in the distance rising in a series of steep jagged ridges were the mountainous Logan had spotted before. The raw beauty of the land was impressive enough but more importantly the terrain provided a natural screening and for the first time since the attack began Logan felt safe. On the flat itself another group of refugees had already set up a camp. There were shouts of greeting from the refugees when they spotted Narmartë and Logan’s group.

During his time in the military Logan had lived and worked in some of the most war torn parts of the world. One of the things he’d learned was that all refugee camps have at least one thing in common, misery. Whatever events caused people to become displaced, they always left the survivors in a state where survival was the most important factor. People often rose above those circumstances to build new lives but all too often they failed and became victims of those who prey on the weak.

As Logan followed Narmartë through the camp she realized that the one universal truth about refugee camps was missing here. The Elves didn’t look happy, but they appeared, clean, fed, and well organized. The sense of despair and misery Logan normally felt was missing. Logan sensed Narmartë stopping.

Standing in front of them blocking their path was a tall noble looking female Elf. She wore the green and brown colors of a forester and had one of the Elven long bows over her shoulder.

“Greetings, I am Ervanya Talelon, are you the leader of this group?”

“Well-met, Ervanya, I’m Narmartë Thlim Ith Mindon. These,” here she waved a hand at the bedraggled group behind us, “are the survivors of the attack on Lindornëa.”

The news caused a stirring in the crowd around them. “You bring ill tidings Lady Narmartë. We had hoped that the attack on Ilcanalta was the main thrust of the enemy.” Then Ervanya shook her head, “Come, I forget myself, let me escort you to our Captain.”

“What of my folk?”

“We will see to their needs as best we can.”

“Thank you.”

Ervanya led Logan and Narmartë through the camp to a pavilion of green and gold set in the middle of the flat. As they moved forward the first rays of dawn fell upon the camp and as it did Logan could hear the calls of greeting as the Elves of Ilcanalta rose to meet their cousins from Lindornëa. Logan glanced over at Narmartë, who’d recovered a few hours ago and then shortly thereafter insisted on walking, “What do you make of this?”

“Two villages sacked in one night?” Narmartë shook her head, “This is no raid. I fear it is the opening moves of a campaign against Nevrast.” She gestured around her and added in a lower voice, “Based on this, and the number of Balrogs we faced last night, I’d say that Angband has sent a host into Nevrast for one purpose. The Dark One must have decided to destroy us.”

By this time they’d made their way to the entrance of the pavilion. A pair of guards were positioned in front of the tent, one recognized Narmartë and saluted, “Captain, give me a moment to announce you.”

With that he ducked into the tent. Ervanya turned to Logan and Narmartë, “I will take my leave of you my lady.”

Narmartë nodded farewell. A few minutes later the tent flap was thrown back and a tall blonde Elven Knight stepped out. He was wearing golden armor with a red tabard over it.

“Greeting’s Captain Narmartë, I’m Sir Ronir Thlim Climbol, Captain of the Ilcanalta Guards. Or what’s left of us.”

Sir Ronir’s voice was a musical baritone and even though he was obviously exhausted, Logan couldn’t help noticing the air of vitality around him. For the first time since becoming Molly’s twin Logan felt small as she looked up at the tall Elf and abruptly wondered what it would feel like to run her hands over his broad shoulders. For a moment Logan considered transforming back into her Melchiresa form, she suspected that she would be taller than the knight, but then she dismissed the idea.

“Greeting’s Ronir, I’d say well-met except for the ill circumstances that have befallen us.”

The Knight nodded, “Please come in, I’d offer you a cup of wine but all I have at the moment is water.”

With that he moved to the side holding the tent flap open. Narmartë moved into the tent followed by Logan. The tent wasn’t large, in fact it was barely large enough for the table that dominated the center and the cot to one side. Around the table were half a dozen chairs and on the table a large map had been spread. Resting next to the map was a mirror in a rune covered stand and it was obvious to Logan that it was a mirror that had been used in a similar fashion as the mirrors in the operations center in Lindornëa.

Sir Ronir moved to a small stand next to the cot and Logan noticed a pitcher with several glasses. He quickly poured water into two glasses and handed them to Logan and Narmartë. Then he gave Logan an appraising look, “Might I have the honor of knowing your name, my lady? You are the first of the Atan that I’ve met.”

“I’m called Ilcaúrna, and I’m pleased to meet you.”

If Ronir was surprised that Logan had given him an Elfish name he didn’t show it. Instead he scooped up Logan’s delicate fingers and kissed them. Logan felt her heart race and wanted to snatch her hand back, but for some reason she didn’t. From the back of her mind Logan felt Melchiresa stir.

*Hmmmm, he’s yummy, can we have him?*

‘Quiet!’ Logan thought at Melchiresa embarrassed by her reaction to the handsome warrior.

Narmartë cleared her throat, “Ronir, what happened to Ilcanalta? How is it that you’re here instead of fighting the forces of Angband?”

Ronir dropped Logan’s hand and turned to face Narmartë. “Ilcanalta got word of the force attacking Lindornëa from Sir Helcëtôr. Knight Captain Fallaistra took most of our forces with her to assist in Lindornëa’s defense. Before Fallaistra could return we were hit by a Warband of Orcs led by a pair of Balrogs. We might have beaten the Orcs back, but the Balrogs overwhelmed our defenses.”

At this Ronir slammed a fist against the table causing the mirror to shake in its stand. For a second Logan could feel his anger like a smoldering fire and then he regained control. In that brief instant Logan had seen the passion and power hidden beneath the controlled demeanor. Sir Ronir was obviously a powerful Elven Knight who, in the words of Sir Helcëtôr, could hear the music of Ainur and possibly sing a bit of it.

“I was entrusted with the defense of Ilcanalta, I used our forces to buy time for our people to escape and for Knight-Captain Fallaistra to reinforce us.” He gestured out at the flat, “As you can see I failed. The village is gone, as are most of my warriors. I’ve spent what I could of the night, after we fell back and disengaged, helping our survivors get here, but less than half of our people escaped. From what I’ve been told the survivors of Lindornëa out number our survivors two to one.”

“Do not blame yourself.” Narmartë said, laying a hand on Ronir’s shoulder. “We had help that you lacked.” Then she gestured toward Logan, “Ilcaúrna wears the form of an Atan, but she is from beyond Arda as is her companion the warrior Sornohen.”

Ronir’s mouth dropped open in surprise and he gave Logan an astonished look, “Can it be? You are of the Maiar?”

At this Logan felt uncomfortable, she didn’t want to lie to this handsome Elf but didn’t really understand what was going on. “It is true, I come from beyond Arda. Although, I’d never heard the term Maiar until last night.”

Before Ronir could respond Narmartë jumped in, “She and Sornohen fought and killed the Balrog Gorlung. Then Sornohen and Sir Helcëtôr led a force to fight Gothmog while Ilcaúrna came to my aid. Our escape was blocked by a company of Orcs who’d occupied the high ground. In addition to the Orc archers a blocking force of Orcs led by a Balrog stood in our way. I tried to kill him but I failed. Just as he was about to slay me Ilcaúrna arrived. She fought and destroyed him and led our people out of the trap. I haven’t heard from Sornohen or Sir Helcëtôr but I wouldn’t be surprised if Gothmog met his fate last night.”

As Narmartë spoke the look on Sir Ronir’s face went from surprised to one that was filled with hope. He glanced at Logan with a look of awe on his face, “My Lady, thank you for your aid. Even if my village has paid a heavy price the death of so many of Angband’s best servants is a worthy feat.”

Logan felt uncomfortable and instead moved over to the map. “Sir Ronir, I’m unfamiliar with the terrain.” She indicated the map with a wave of her hand, “Please, could you show me where we are and where the villages of Nevrast are? If this is a campaign, then there are probably other forces on the move. We should start trying to understand what the enemy has done. From there we can plan our next move.”

“Certainly my Lady, although, with all due respect our next move is obvious. We will spend the day gathering as many refugees as we can and then march to the hidden ways. From there we will come to Ondolindë and our civilians will be safe.”

Narmartë shot Ronir a questioning look and he nodded, “Yes, I’ve already sent word to King Turukáno. Pray to Illúvatar he will take pity on Nevrast and send a force to help.”

Logan looked behind her at the long line of refugees strung out for more than a mile. She reached up to wipe the sweat from her forehead despite the cool air brought on by the upper elevation. Not long after her initial meeting with Ronir he’d received word from King Turukáno to bring the survivors of the raid into Tumladen for safety. This message was quickly passed among the Elves and it was met with cheers and sorrow. From what Logan was able to piece together these remaining villages were the last of King Turukáno’s people in Nevrast, and they’d been reluctant to leave their homes for the greater security of Tumladen. Now with the forces of Angband upon them they were willing to accept the King’s protection, even if it meant losing their homes.

They’d left the river flat by mid-morning and were following a dry river bed between a set of steep bluffs. The ground was dry and hardened from the stream that had once flowed down it. This made the journey much easier and when Logan glanced up and ahead she spotted the virile form of Sir Ronir leading the way. His armor and high helm made him easy to spot and Logan had to suppress a shiver at the sight. There was something about him that made her knees go weak and caused her to want to reach out and touch him.

Then reflexively Logan glanced up into the sky and saw a pair of mighty eagles. They were soaring lazily, wings stretched wide, upon thermal currents. Even though the distance was great Logan was sure these were the largest eagles she’d ever seen. Then to distract herself she glanced over at Narmartë who was walking next to her.

“Have you been to Ondolindë before?”

“Yes, I grew up in Tumladen and when I was a little girl my father took me to the white tower and introduced me to the head of our House, Ith Mindon. During the visit we called upon King Turukáno and his court.” Logan saw that Narmartë was lost in the memory even as she spoke. “The white walls of the city of Ondolindë seemed to stretch up to the heavens and as tall as they were the white tower was far taller. The yard before the tower had the greenest grass I’ve ever seen and by the pool in the yard were two trees, Glingal and Belthil, gold and silver trees in the likeness of Telperion and Laurelin, the trees of light.” At this Narmartë paused lost in her memory.

Logan after a few minutes of walking asked, “Will there be room for all of these,” she gestured at the refugees streaming out behind them, “in the city?”

Narmartë glanced back and then up at Logan, “No, but the Vale of Tumladen is quite large. Most will have kin in the valley. Those that don’t will be taken care of by the King or one of the Lords of a Great House.” Seeing Logan’s confused look Narmartë continued, “Ondolindë was built by King Turukáno be his capital. It is divided into twelve sections one for each of the twelve Great Houses. Each of our folk will have sworn allegiance to one of the Great Houses. That House will be honor bound to find food and shelter for them.”

At this Narmartë paused and Logan thought she was done speaking but then she added, “King Turukáno has been trying to get all the Noldor and Sindar of Nevrast to migrate to the hidden Vale of Tumladen. I don’t know how Morgoth got this army past the Siege of Angband, but the fact that he was able to do it will cause most of the remaining folk of Nevrast to flee to Tumladen.”

Logan wasn’t sure how to take Narmartë’s words, they were filled with emotion and she wasn’t sure if Narmartë thought it good or ill that the remaining Elves would leave their land. Logan was saved from having to make a comment by the sound of running water. They’d followed the draw up to the point where the water had been diverted. In front of them the land opened showing a small lake surrounded by high cliffs and pine trees. The water had been dammed by a fall of rocks and as the lake filled a new track had been cut by the water plunging away in a series of short waterfalls to Logan’s left. From where Logan stood on the opposite shore of the lake a mighty waterfall dumped tons of water into it and was the source of the sound Logan had identified.

“Where are we?”

“This is known as Sky-Lake and its waters are the sweetest in all of Beleriand.”

Logan looked around at once impressed by the natural beauty of the land and alarmed at the situation. “Where will we go from here?” She asked. The surrounding mountains were now almost vertical cliffs reaching down to touch the far shore of the lake. From where they stood Logan could see a narrow strip of rocky beach to the right that would allow them to pass half way around the lake to the giant waterfall but from there the path ended. This lake was obviously the head of the dried up waterway they’d been following.

“We are now at the head of the hidden way.” Sir Ronir said, his voice startling Logan since she hadn’t heard him approach. “By law only the people of King Turukáno may follow the hidden path.”

“True,” Narmartë interjected, “but I doubt that the law was ever intended to apply to the Maiar.”

Sir Ronir nodded, “I agree.” Then he looked at Logan, “Upon my honor as a Knight of Ondolindë if you will vow to keep the paths you are about to see secret then I will vouch for you before the King.”

For a minute Logan didn’t know if she wanted to travel to the hidden city. She knew that she needed to find Molly and return to the gate. But events had swept them up and she didn’t even know where Molly was much less how to find the ruins with the gate. Then an alarming thought occurred to her, the Key to the gate had been the stone knife they’d used to activate it. Molly had kept the knife in his backpack. The last time Logan had seen it had been in the village of Lindornëa before the attack. Would they even be able to activate the gate without the knife? Then Logan realized that the two elves were waiting for her answer.

“Of course you have my word.” Then sensing more was expected she continued. “I swear by the Light that I will reveal the hidden path to Ondolindë to no one without King Turukáno’s permission.”

Sir Ronir nodded, “Then follow me.”

With that he set off following the narrow strip of land around to the waterfall. As Logan approached she gained a greater appreciation for the size of the waterfall. Once when she’d been a young boy, Logan’s parents had taken him to Niagara Falls and the size and power of the falling water had left a permanent impression on Logan. Now as she got closer and closer to the mighty water fall she was reminded of that experience. This waterfall wasn’t as broad as Niagara but the fall was higher and soon Logan could feel the power of the fall by the vibration in her bones.

As they got closer and closer to the waterfall Logan began to get concerned, surely there was no way that they were going to pass under the waterfall. Then less than a hundred feet from it Sir Ronir turned to the right and headed toward the cliff face. For a moment Logan wondered what he was doing then she spotted a dark shadow between two outcroppings of rock. Sir Ronir disappeared into the shadow and Logan and Narmartë followed. As she neared the shadow Logan saw that it was deeper than she’d thought and then as she stepped between the outcroppings Logan saw that it wasn’t just a shadow. It was the opening of a cave, hidden from view until one got right up on it.

Logan stepped into the narrow passage and saw that Sir Ronir was already there holding a glowing crystal in his hand. The grin on his face was contagious and Logan smiled in response.

“Welcome to the hidden way.” Then he turned around and moved into the cave. Logan and Narmartë followed in silence. For Logan the beauty of the cave was breath taking. Yet even as she moved forward a part of her mind noted the well-worn path in the stone. Even though this cave seemed undisturbed, to Logan’s eye it was easy to see that hundreds, if not thousands, of footsteps had moved among the Stalagmites and Stalactites.

As they moved forward Logan realized that there must have been a pile of spell-sung rock next to the entrance because every fifth or sixth Elf to pass within picked up a rock sang briefly to it and then held it aloft as it flared up with a bright blue-white light. Soon the cave was filled with light as the survivors of the Orc attack made their way through the cavern. The first gallery was perhaps a hundred meters long and it opened into an even bigger cavern. Then Logan noticed as they passed into the third that the ground was starting to slope up.

For the next two hours they walked from one cave to the next each seeming lager than the last and they were constantly moving up. Then they made it to a cavern with a roof that vaulted beyond the limits of the spell-stones they carried. Logan with a thought switched her vision to that of Melchiresa and the darkness faded away. Logan’s breath caught as she realized the roof of the cavern was an amazing formation of quartz and crystal. With enough light it would put on a dazzling display and for a second she considered using her power to do just that, but then she shook off the temptation. Some instinct told her not too.

Sir Ronir directed a halt to their march and the Elves spread out finding places to stretch out and relax. The supplies they’d brought with them were shared out for if they’d been in the open Logan knew it would be noon. The children were tired but holding up as mothers attempted to feed and encourage them. As Logan watched she couldn’t help feeling a new sympathy for the mothers as they tried to take care of their young. ‘What would it feel like to be a mother with your child fleeing for your life,’ Logan wondered. She shivered as she considered, what might happen if she couldn’t get back to Earth. Would she be fated to spend the rest of her life as a woman? Based on her body’s reaction to Ronir she was very much a heterosexual female. Would she end up married with children of her own? This put a whole new light on her observation of the refugees.

“Ilcaúrna, are you thirsty?”

Logan looked over at Narmartë who offered her a cup of water. Where she’d gotten the clay cup or the water Logan didn’t know, but she was grateful for it.

“Thanks. How much longer until we’re out of these caves?”

“I’m not sure, but if I were to guess another hour. We’ve been making good time even with the little ones.”

Logan took a deep drink of the water and was surprised at how clear and fresh it was. Before she could ask the question Narmartë answered it.

“The water is from Sky-Lake. Those with water skins took the time to refresh them before entering the caves.”

Before long another Elf showed up with a piece of flat bread and cheese. As far as lunches went it wasn’t the best that Logan had had, but it filled her up and she knew that she was more than ready to continue when Sir Ronir passed the word to set out again.

The next chamber was smaller and for the first time Logan noted that the floor was now sloping down. Narmartë’s prediction proved accurate because just under an hour later the pale light of the sun shone down through the mouth of the last cave. Logan followed Sir Ronir and Narmartë as they exited the cave only to stop and stare up in surprise. Directly in front of her was a mighty stockade wall made of logs lashed together. What was astonishing was the height of each log had to be over two hundred feet. Then it dawned on Logan that these logs had to come from the Trees of Lindornëa.

“Halt! Who approaches the outer Gates of Ondolindë and the Vale of Tumladen!”

Molly gave the signal and the archers cut lose with a volley. The Orc Warband had thought they’d trapped the small troop of Elves and had charged in taking the bait. The Elves had quickly turned and formed a shield wall spears glittering in the afternoon sun. Before the Orcs could reach the infantry Molly had directed the archers to let fly. The hail of arrows slowed the charge causing it to falter before it struck the Elfish phalanx. The archers had been positioned along a ridge to the north of the infantry just out of sight of the attacking Orcs. Normally the Elves preferred to take positions within the trees, firing with great accuracy individually down onto the attacking horde. Molly had explained that keeping the archers together in a tight block would allow them to fire en-mass, thereby focusing the effect into a very tight area. The massing of the power of Elven archery into a tight area had a devastating impact. The Elves had been skeptical but had agreed because of Molly’s status as a Maiar and because he’d, by default, become their captain. The new tactic paid off as Orcs died in droves.

“Calvary, NOW!” Molly shouted, and the Elf next to her blew a quick note on his silver trumpet.

Molly looked down and saw that the Orcs had lifted their shields over their heads and resumed their advance. The sleeting arrows still took a toll but the Orcs were pushing forward. At the sound of the horn the knot of infantry charged forward. Even though they were outnumbered the fact that they were in a tight formation with overlapping shields wielding long spears gave them a huge advantage. They hit the Orcs and the impact reminded Molly of the crash of the surf upon the shore. He had to shake his head to drive out the memory he’d inherited from Logan. Molly was once again in full Spartan-Maiar form and towered over the Elves around him.

With his height advantage Molly was able to watch as the Orcs pushed forward. They outnumbered the Elven infantry by a factor of ten to one. The archers continued hitting them but the Orcs pressed forward. Because of their superior numbers they flowed to the left and right of the Elven formation starting to surround them. The discipline of the Elves was such that with a shouted command the infantry commander turned the phalanx into a fighting square with the first rank of spears facing out in all four directions.

Then the distant rumble of horses hooves sounded and Molly knew it was only a matter of seconds before the cavalry arrived. Apparently the Orc commander heard the rumble as well for a series of shrill whistles erupted and the Orcs tried to pull back but Molly knew it was too late. Before they could completely disengage the Elfish cavalry broke into the open behind the Orc formation. The Orcs tried to turn to face the charge but they were too slow and ill-disciplined and the cavalry hit them with devastating force. The cries of the dying Orcs rang out over the field of battle and Molly had to harden his heart against the pity he felt. A few days ago the idea of watching a brutal battle like this would have left Molly shocked and stunned. The idea of hurting another living creature was horrifying to her. Now with Logan’s memories and Kratos raw masculine power all Molly felt was contempt at the poor job the enemy had done to defend itself. This wasn’t a challenge worthy of his power.

In full panic the Orcs tried to flee in all directions making themselves easy targets for the archers to pick off and the cavalry to ride down. Molly glanced up at the sun trying to calculate.

*No more than half of a hour.* Kratos thought.

“My Lord Sornohen!”

Molly turned and saw the female scout, Tanna Greenleaf. “Tanna, report.” he acknowledged.

The scout nodded, “My Lord, we’ve spotted another band of Elves. This one is much larger and better organized than any of the others. They are about to be pinned down by a force of Orcs led by a Balrog.”

“While the sun is in the sky?”

Tanna nodded, “Yes, my lord. It seems the dark one has given his Captains some kind of protection from the sun.”

“Or perhaps the overcast is enough,” Alion added.

Molly looked over at his first spear and nodded, “Perhaps. Well, regardless, where are they?”

With that Alion pulled a crude map from his backpack and spread it on the ground using stones to hold the corners down. Tanna squatted next to him and began to point out the tactical situation.

“The Elven force is here. They’ve paused to set up a temporary camp. The Orcs are moving here and here.” She pointed to places to the north and south of the Elves. “The main force is here to the east of them with the Balrog. I think the main force will hit them first and then once fully engaged the forces to the north and south will attack.”

Molly nodded, “And with that stream at their back they’ll be slowed down if they try to cross over and escape.”

“Aye, my lord.”

“How do they look? You said they were setting up a temporary camp are the constructing fortifications? Have you tried to contact them?”

“Nay my lord, there is no sign that they are fortifying their position. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to communicate with them. We spotted them from this ridge,” here Tanna pointed to a location close to the river, “the forces of the Dark One are too thick around them for us to get through. However, we were able to spot their banner. They are flying the ensign of Knight Captain Fallaistra of Ilcanalta.” Tanna looked up at Molly concern clearly written on her face, “They look like they’ve been fighting continuously since last night. I don’t know how much more they’ve got left.”

The frank assessment told Molly how truly desperate the situation was. “Alright, here’s what we’re going to do.” With that Molly started to lay out his plan.

The tall blonde Knight looked up as the first Orc battle whistles sounded. The sun was still above the horizon and the beasts were attacking. It made no sense, but then the last two days had been full of events that didn’t make any sense. Worse yet, Captain Fallaistra of Ilcanalta, knew that she’d failed Ilcanalta, Lindornëa, and the Nevrast Knight Commander, Sir Helcëtôr. Now after almost two days of fighting her force had been reduced to almost half of their original strength, and her warriors were exhausted, and the enemy continued to press them. She shouted orders that she didn’t need to think about. Infantry to the front. Set up the defensive line. Archers behind the infantry to reduce the power of the Orcish charge. Knights in reserve ready to ride around and attack the host from the flanks and rear with fast moving attacks. These were tactics she knew well.

The Orcs appeared between the trees. At first one or two at a time but the trickle soon became a flood and as they moved onto the open ground they began to form up. Not with the organized discipline of the Elfish Warband but the tightly packed horde was a concentration of force that couldn’t be ignored. In a matter of minutes the front line of the Orc Warband had solidified and moved toward the Elves while the Orc war drums pounded out a deep bass.

“Upon my command, the archers will let fly.” Fallaistra was almost unaware of the words she spoke. Yet the command was echoed down the chain. She didn’t need to look to know that every under her command was already in position.

“Fire!”

Arrows arched into the sky and then fell like a white fletched rain upon the advancing Warband. Orcs dropped by the score, yet they advanced. Then out of the tree-line a Balrog stepped. The creature stood over ten feet tall and was writhed in flame and shadow. The trees around him burst into fire as he moved forward. Fallaistra felt a fist of fear grip her heart. How could anyone stand against a foe of this power?! She closed her eyes and thought back to her training, training that included ignoring fear and doing what was necessary to get the job done.

“Steady!” Fallaistra heard the words but she wasn’t aware that she’d said them. “Fire!”

Another round of arrows dropped upon the Orcs and their advance slowed as they became reluctant to get closer to the deadly elven archers. Then the Balrog shouted a thunderous command and although Fallaistra couldn’t understand what was said it spurred the Orcs forward. Then they fell upon the line of Elfish infantry and the battle was truly joined.

“Let the archers know they are to fire at their discretion.”

“Aye, aye, Ma’am!”

“Order the Knights to mount up.”

“Aye, aye, Ma’am,” Fallaistra’s Aid-de-Camp replied hurrying over to send messages. The initial impact of the Orc charge had been blunted by the archers and the infantry had assumed a strong position, yet Fallaistra watched as her infantry was slowly pushed back. Fallaistra kept her eyes on the Balrog who for now was directing the fight from the rear. The fallen Maiar was watching the battle content to sell the lives of his Orcs to further his understanding of his foes.

Abruptly there were sounds of drums and war whistles in the hills to either side of Fallaistra’s force. Stunned she looked up to the hills, somehow the Orcs had managed to get a force up onto the bluffs. She’d placed scouts upon those hills and had counted on a warning if the Orcs attempted to surround her. With the river at her back she’d planned to cross if necessary to evade the dark host. Now with her forces engaged pulling back and disengaging would be next to impossible. An arrow fell a few feet to Fallaistra’s left narrowly missing her Aide. Orcish archers on the bluffs would turn this battle very quickly, particularly if they were augmented with a force of infantry.

“Pass the signal, the cavalry is to mount up. Upon my command we will pass through the lines of infantry and knock a hole in the side of this trap. The infantry and archers will follow behind the cavalry. Pass the word, carry only what you must for we need to move quickly to escape.”

Fallaistra had filled her voice with confidence when she issued her orders, yet as she watched the messengers run to deliver them to her Lieutenants she knew this was a desperate attempt. Moving one force through its own line was something that needed to be practiced and was always risky if the first force was still engaged. But what made this so desperate was the Balrog. It had set the trap perfectly and now it waited with a reserve force directly in her path. If she were to salvage any of her company she’d have to kill that damn beast.

Fallaistra moved to her horse and leapt into the saddle. This time she planned to lead the charge. She moved her horse over to Knight-Lieutenant Pengon and returned his salute.

“We’re ready to ride, Captain. Just say the word.”

Fallaistra nodded, and knew that although Pengon’s voice had been filled with confidence by the look in his eyes she knew that he understood how desperate their situation really was.

“You will lead the first rank as we pass through the line, Pengon. We won’t be able to charge so it will be slow work. I’ll keep a third of our force in reserve and once you’re through the Orcs I’ll charge. Leave the Balrog and his guards to me. Take whatever knights you’ve got left and attack the Orcs in the hills to the north. Our infantry and archers will follow you out and your assault should provide them with the cover they need to escape.”

“Yes, Captain, where will we link up?”

“Head for Iachon’s crossing. If we are successful this Warband will be in no condition to follow.”

Lieutenant Pengon saluted, “May the Light favor us this day, Captain.”

“Aye, Lieutenant may the light favor us.”

Fallaistra moved to gather her force of knights and made sure everyone knew what they were supposed to do. As she spoke the hail of black arrows grew thicker as the Orcs on the bluffs found the range. The sounds of the dying told Fallaistra that she was out of time. She lifted her hand to give the signal to the infantry to allow them to pass through. When a horn sounded. Not an Orc horn, but a silver Elfish bugle. Bright and loud the bugle was full of contempt for the forces of Angband. Then to her amazement a force of Elfish knights in silver and golden armor came over the hill behind the Balrog and his reserve. They raced down upon the creature of fire and darkness and to Fallaistra’s amazement the Knights were led by a giant glowing warrior.

The warrior wasn’t riding a horse, for no horse was big enough to carry him, yet he practically flew along, his feet barely touching the ground as he kept pace with the fastest Knight. Then he lifted an arm and a glowing trident appeared and he threw it without breaking stride. The trident flew forward and the Balrog tried to step aside but was too slow. The trident struck and thunder rolled over the field of battle as the Balrog was thrown from its feet. Then Fallaistra heard horns sound upon the bluffs, this was followed Elven war-cries and abruptly the sleet of black arrows ceased.

Now the Knights were among the reserves and the glowing warrior met the Balrog as it climbed to its feet. Blade and shield against whip and hammer, they fought and it was like the world held its breath. Elves and Orcs alike fell back to watch the battle. With a mighty blow the Balrog brought its hammer down upon the warrior’s shield, and the sound of it breaking rang out over the field. The warrior dropped to a knee as his arm hung uselessly, yet even as he fell he drove the sword in his good arm forward into the Balrog’s guts.

The Balrog let out a mighty cry and dropped both hammer and whip trying to clutch at the sword. Then the warrior surged to his feet gutting the servant of Morgoth in a vicious move before kicking it from his blade. The fell thing dropped back and fire shot up in a column that forced even the mighty warrior back. As the fire died Fallaistra sensed a shadow depart. Suddenly, the remaining light of the sun seemed brighter and the clouds that had been casting an early shadow upon the field parted.

“Now, my Knights. Charge!” Her shouted command surprised her and then Fallaistra urged her horse to a full gallop.

The Orcs had fallen back disengaging from the Elven infantry. This brief respite was all Fallaistra needed to safely pass through the lines and without the Balrog she was free to slaughter the Orcs on the field. With a fierce joy she spurred her horse forward, and as she did a song burst from her lips. It was the battle hymn of the Noldor and the rays of the setting sun fell upon Fallaistra causing her to blaze up with light. The Orcs fell back in fear and the Elves riding with her picked up the song driving the Orcs before them. For the first time in the last two days Fallaistra felt a surge of hope. Perhaps Nevrast might be saved, but in any case the enemy would pay for the blood they’d spilled.

Author Note:

1: This story is based on the Altered Fates Universe concept established by Jennifer Adams, however I’ve taken some artistic liberties so this story doesn’t strictly adhere to the rules Jennifer established.

2: This is also a fanfic of the J.R.R. Tolkien world of Middle Earth in an untold tale of the First Age. Please note; I didn’t stay completely true to the Middle Earth that Tolkien set up. This is my take on what Middle Earth in the First Age might have been like.

The hooded figure sat upon a throne of skulls and looked out at the blazing fire in the middle of the room. At first glance the circular chamber might have been mistaken for a building that is until the wind caused one of the canvas walls to quiver. The tent’s roof rose sharply and it was open in the center allowing the heat and smoke from the fire a place to escape.

Across the knees of the manlike figure on the throne was a mighty sword, around the fire knelt a half dozen Orc chiefs their foreheads touching the ground. Behind the Orcs sitting on their haunches three Troll Clan-Carls waited, and to his left and right stood a pair of beings, clothed in shadow, patient, and silent. At first glance one would assume the flames from the fire were reflected in the eyes of the hooded-one. This was a false impression as the flames within the being’s eyes were no reflection, instead the eyes were merely windows to the fire that burned within the creature.

“Tell me again, how you had the Elf Knight Fallaistra trapped and outnumbered while you held the high ground and she not only defeated you but managed to slaughter almost a quarter of my army?”

The words were soft spoken but in the true tongue of Angband they carried a weight and menace to every ear within the tent striking fear in all except the Lieutenants standing to either side of the throne. The Orc in the center, larger than the others lifted his head, “My Lord Gothmog, it is not our fault. We were set upon from behind by that accursed being known as Sornohen, it was he who slew, Vothgær, and sent us flying for our lives.”

A hush fell upon the creatures within the tent and even the Balrogs glanced nervously at Gothmog. None had dared to speak the name of the Maiar who’d taken Gothmog’s hand. For a moment the being on the throne glanced down at the stump of his left hand and then he looked up at those in the tent waiting on his command.

“Leave me.”

The Orcs and Trolls quickly departed leaving Gothmog and his two lieutenants. Once they were alone Gothmog turned to them and nodded, “My brother and sister, who is this Maiar Knight that goes by the Noldoren name, Sornohen?”

The venom in Gothmog’s voice as he spoke the name caused the fire to flare in response. The Balrog lieutenants moved to stand before the throne. Shadows clung to them but their fires were held within and they stood no taller than an Elf. Yet the powerful aura of darkness left no doubt of their nature.

“My Captain,” said the Balrog to his right, “I’ve questioned the prisoners of Lindornëa. None knew, before our attack, that two Maiar were within the village. Their nature was kept secret until we forced them to reveal themselves.”

After a few minutes of silence Gothmog stood up and moved down from his throne, in his current form he was only a few inches taller than his Lieutenants. The stump of his left hand drew the gaze of both Lieutenants. When Gothmog had shifted from his battle-form to his everyday-form he’d been unable to regrow his hand. The disfigurement was rare for creatures whose origin was beyond Arda. Gothmog strode to the fire, placed his sword tip first into the dirt leaning on it with his good hand and stared into the flames.

“Six Valaraukar I brought with me, to destroy the last seven villages of King Turukáno’s folk here in Nevrast, plus two leading the host from the east. Now only four of us remain.” He shook his head, “Our Lord will not be pleased.” Then in a louder voice, “This whole situation has the feeling of the hand of Irmo, Lord of Spirits and Dreams, the Master Summoner of the Valar. Only Irmo could bring two such beings from beyond the veil of the world and set them upon this course.”

“My lord, perhaps it’s time to set a trap?” The Balrog who spoke up was the only female of her race to accompany the army from Angband.

“What do you suggest Alarukë?”

At this the Balrog moved between Gothmog and the fire, shadows swirled around her and her form shrank further. When the shadows left a tall, blonde, elfish woman in white, green, and gold raiment stood. She was fair of skin and pleasing to the eye in only the way that the Maiar or the fairest of Elves can be.

“This Sornohen is male is he not? I’ve yet to meet the male that can resist my charms.”

Gothmog nodded and then looked at his last Lieutenant, “Handmaiden of Melkor, do your work as you see fit. Take whatever resources you need.” He then turned to the remaining Balrog, “Come Gôrlir, we need to plan the next phase of this campaign for only four of the seven villages have fallen and we now have a large Elfish Warband and an organized resistance to contend with.”

Logan looked into the mirror feeling torn. Molly’s face stared back and while there was a part of her that had expected the reflection. She was still caught by surprise at times expecting to see her male face instead. Logan reached up and ran a hand over her fiery locks admiring the long intricate braid that Narmartë had helped her work into her hair. She turned sideways admiring the dark green dress and sighed. The corset built into the dress accented her tiny waist and the flare of her hips while pushing up her breasts. Back when she’d been male she’d have taken the girl in the mirror into her arms and . . . Logan allowed the thought to trail off. Now she felt nothing, except pleased with how she looked in the dress.

Logan turned away from the mirror and moved over to the window. Night was just about to fall and the shadows were getting longer, yet from where she stood she could see the great wall and the seventh gate. When Logan and the refugees from Nevrast had left the hidden way they’d come upon the first Gate of Ondolindë. In her mind’s eye Logan could still see the mighty timbers rising from the steep rocky ground.

Sir Ronir had hailed the Gate and it had swung open allowing the Elves to enter. As Logan had walked through she’d noticed that this wasn’t a simple palisade. The gate turned out to be a tunnel almost ten feet long and when Logan had asked about it she’d been told that the wall had been constructed in three layers. Between each layer of wood the Elves had filled the space with sand and gravel. The logs were treated and set deeply into the rocky ground but the craftsmanship was such that none of the dirt spilled out. This wall would take a pounding and still stand particularly when the size and thickness of the wood logs was taken into account. They had obviously been harvested from the forest around Lindornëa. Normally a structure like this could be attacked with fire and that might weaken the outer layer but the two behind would still hold and the fire could only catch and burn from the outside.

It had been late in the day and the refugees were tired from all of the walking so they’d made camp. The guards of the first gate had been polite and their Captain had taken Sir Ronir and Narmartë to one side for a private conference. The next day they’d set out again and it had taken the entire day to work their way up into the pass. Now Logan estimated they must be at least twelve thousand feet up but they’d passed through the finale gate. Each gate had been different, higher and more formidable as the pass got narrower. The second gate had been made of stone set within a tall stone wall. This had also been cunningly constructed as the gate was raised by the use of a counter-weighting system. Logan had felt a little nervous as she’d passed beneath several tons of stone that could have been sent crashing down. From that point on the walls had been made of stone but each gate was different.

The third gate was of wood sheathed in bronze. The fourth was a great iron gate and by the time she got to the fifth gate Logan was stunned to see what appeared to be silver. When she’d asked about it she’d been told it was ‘true’ silver or mithril. The wealth and craftsmanship that went into constructing the gate was astonishing and Logan wondered if it was designed to awe an attacker as much as defend the pass. The sixth gate had been wrought of gold and Logan was told that a special process had been used to harden the gold before it had been hammered in a series of plates over the mithril and wooden gate. The last gate was made of steel and seemed simple after the wealth of the fifth and sixth gates.

The stone wall rose up from the narrow pass well over a hundred feet and to approach the gate Logan had to pass between a pair of towers. This would cause any attacking force to be caught in a lethal crossfire. The gate was protected by a wooden drawbridge and the trench before the bridge was lined with tightly fit stones and a forest of iron spikes. Logan saw that the bridge had been covered in mithril plates. Then an iron portcullis had been set just inside the barbican after that a tunnel let to the steel doors of the gate. The roof of the tunnel had been lined with kill-ports for either arrow fire or the dumping of oil turning the tunnel into a kill zone.

When she’d stepped through the last gate Logan saw that what amounted to a small town that had been cut into the side of the mountain. It was here that the Elves charged with guarding the gates lived. Narmartë explained that the watch was rotated from the town and duty on each of the gates was a one year posting. After seven years there would be a battalion swap out occurred as the next battalion came on duty. The town had been built to support the warriors as they stood the watch.

By the time they’d climbed to the top of the pass and reached the seventh gate the sun was almost setting. The town was small, if Logan had to guess she’d have said no more than a few thousand Elves lived in the pass. Narmartë had led her to a nice hotel cut into the side of the mountain with a view of the wall and town. It was this view that took Logan’s breath as she watched the sun set.

The knock on the door drew Logan’s attention away from the view and she hurried over to the open it. Narmartë stood in the hallway dressed in a light blue dress that showed her figure to full advantage. The change from warrior to lady was shocking and Logan blurted out, “Wow, you clean up nice.”

Narmartë gave Logan an amused smile, “A strange phrase, was that this Engleesh, you told me of?”

Logan felt her face flush as she realized she’d accidentally switched to English. “Um, English, yes. I just commented that you look lovely.”

“As do you. I was a little surprised that Lord Penlod had dresses of this quality here”

“More surprising is that they fit.”

At this Narmartë laughed, “Nay, they are constructed by the Art. They will adjust to the size of the woman and shape themselves to show our best traits.” With that Narmartë’s gay laughter floated out and she spun around in a circle causing her dress to flare. “Come, Sir Ronir and my Lord Penlod are waiting for us.”

Logan followed Narmartë feeling a little guilty. They left the inn and as they walked, all around them, crystals set on tall poles began to flare up filling the darkness with colored light. At the same time the last rays of the sun faded and one by one bright stars began to twinkle into existence. It was a scene of ethereal beauty that should have taken Logan’s breath away. As if sensing her companion’s somber mood Narmartë looked at her.

“Ilcaúrna, we have only known each other for a short time, yet I feel you are a kindred soul.” Logan didn’t know what to say so she just nodded. “Because of this I can tell that something is troubling you.”

“It’s just that we’re here, dressed for a formal dinner, in a well-defended town, far from danger, and my friend, Sornohen, is out there facing battle . . .”

At this the laughter left Narmartë’s eyes, “I know, I’m troubled for my kin in Nevrast and the loss of Sir Helcëtôr is like a knife through my heart.” Then on some instinct she asked, “But something else troubles you, does it not?”

Logan paused, thinking, and then she realized what had been bothering her for some time. “I’m also worried that we might not be able to get home.” She took a deep breath very aware of the way her breasts strained against her dress.

“You see we came into this world through a gate beyond the river where we met you. At this point I’m not sure we can find the gate. But assuming we can the key to opening it was in Sornohen’s pack. That pack was in his room back in Lindornëa. I fear the village is lost to the Orcs, or perhaps burned to the ground. In any case, if the key is lost then we might not be able to open the gate even if we can find it.”

Narmartë reached out and took Logan’s hand causing both of them to stop walking. “You are worried that you cannot return home?” Logan nodded. “I understand the loss of home and kin is very difficult.” She gestured with her chin at the buildings where most of the refugees were being hosted. “My people of just experienced both.”

Abruptly Logan felt ashamed, here she was lamenting the fact that she might be stuck in this world but her family and friends were safe. These people had just lost everything.

“You are a hero. You’re actions saved many lives and King Turukáno, is generous and will not forget. I believe that you will find a home here, for as long as you want it.”

Narmartë’s words made Logan feel better and the temptation to let go, to accept the offer was hard to ignore. But Logan had been hired to keep Molly safe. She’d already failed at that job, because wherever Molly was, Logan felt sure she wasn’t safe. There was also the issue of getting Molly back home to his father and getting them switched back. Taking Narmartë’s offer would mean accepting the fact the Logan was now and forever, a woman. The idea had a strange attraction and Logan had to fight it off. ‘I’m a man, damn it!’ he thought. There was a giggle in the back of his mind, *Really?*

“I have a duty, Narmartë. Sornohen and I must return to our land or we will fail in that duty.”

The words were spoken softly and Logan could see that Narmartë sensed the inner turmoil that shook Logan. Instead of arguing Narmartë wove her arm through Logan’s and started walking.

“The stars are bright tonight. We are young and alive, having survived battle and privation. Put aside your fears and concerns for one night, at least, and celebrate our safe arrival.”

Logan couldn’t help smiling at Narmartë’s good mood and then she heard the sounds of singing and gay laughter floating up from the dormitories that had been given over to the survivors.

“What are they doing?”

“Celebrating life. We, all of us, survived. Now is a time to give thanks for there will be dark times ahead.”

Narmartë shifted her grip to take Logan by the hand and she started skipping gaily forward forcing Logan to keep up. Soon Narmartë’s good mood infected Logan and she found herself skipping along with Narmartë. Her worry dispelled and when Narmartë added an occasional twirl to her skipping stride Logan joined in. Their casual walk became a competition to see whose dress would flare the best and their laughter filled the night.

Before Logan knew it they came to a building larger than the others with a set of marble columns before intricately carved oaken doors and a bright fountain that sent clear water into the air. Logan stopped out of breath and leaned on Narmartë for support and at the sight of the stern guards looking down at them the two women burst into giggles.

“Come!” Narmartë grabbed Logan’s hand and lead her up the steps and between the pillars. As she climbed the steps Logan looked back at the fountain and wondered at the engineering that must have gone into building a fountain in a place like this, then Narmartë stopped and Logan almost ran into her. To either side of the great doors a pair of tall Elven warriors stood with red tabards over their golden armor. Centered upon the red tabards was the symbol of a golden pillar. One of the guards opened the doors while the other saluted, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“Hail, my Lady Narmartë Thlim Ith Mindon, you are welcome in the House of Lord Penlod.” Then he turned to Logan and bowed deeply, “Be welcome, Lady Ilcaúrna et Maiar.”

Narmartë swept past and Logan followed noting how the eyes of the guards followed her before they closed the door. The hall was lit by more of the multi-colored crystals and they were met by a short thin Elf who had the air of someone who’s seen everything and nothing surprises him. And while his face was unlined his hair was as white as snow.

“Good evening, my ladies. If you will follow me I will bring you to my Lord’s dining chamber.”

Narmartë smiled and then leaned in to hug the Elf. “Good evening to you Melandrach! It’s been a long time.”

At this the older Elf allowed his facade of indifference to slip and he reached up to awkwardly pat Narmartë on the back.

“Aye, Lady Narmartë, I think the last time I saw you was after your parent’s death when Sir Helcëtôr named you his heir and presented you to the Court.”

At the mention of her parents death Narmartë stiffened but then relaxed again right away. If Logan hadn’t known her so well she’d have never spotted the brief reaction. Melandrach had felt it and when Narmartë moved to step back he held her for a second. “I’m sorry for bringing up a painful memory.”

“Nonsense, the night of my second court presentation is one of my fondest memories.”

“Indeed, please follow me.”

Logan moved up to walk next to Narmartë and gave her a quick sideways glance to see how she was doing but it was as if nothing had happened. ‘Perhaps I just imagined it.’ Logan thought. Then they entered a large room with couches set around the perimeter. In the middle of the room stood a table filled with all manner of fruit, nuts, bread, and cheese. There were also several pitchers with water condensing on the outside set on trays with glass goblets.

“Ah, my ladies, you look much refreshed.”

Logan looked to the side and saw Sir Ronir standing up from where he’d been sitting. He moved forward with a cat like grace, his black boots making almost no noise on the stone floor. Ronir was dressed formally in black trousers with a red tunic and golden scroll work along the sleeves and neck. Over his heart was the symbol of the golden pillar, similar to those worn by the guards.

“And, if I might be so bold, beautiful. Please, may I pour you a glass of wine?

For a moment Logan couldn’t answer, her heart was beating a mile a minute as the tall Elfish knight gave her a bright smile. Sensing her friend’s hesitation Narmartë looked curiously at Logan and then the corners of her mouth twitched in mirth and her eyes started to sparkle.

“Yes, Sir Ronir, we’d both love a glass.”

The tall knight poured two goblets and handed the first to Narmartë before turning to Logan and extending a glass. Logan reached out and when their fingers touched Logan thought she could almost feel a spark from the contact. Her face flushed and she drew her hand back almost losing her grip on the glass.

“Are you alright my lady?”

Sir Ronir took a step closer and Logan had to tilt her head back to see his face. When she did she found herself staring up into his clear blue eyes and realized they reminded her of the sky.

“Ilcaúrna?”

Logan looked over at Narmartë who hid her smile behind her glass as she raised it. “To our good fortune, may the light of Valinor shine upon us.”

Logan took a sip of the wine and let out a small gasp of surprise, light and dry, with a crispness she’d never tasted. She was just about to comment when a new voice interrupted.

“A lovely toast, but it pales when compared to the beauty of the one who made it.”

Logan turned and saw standing in the doorway a large powerfully built Elf. He must have been six and a half feet tall and as he stepped into the room the light from the crystal chandelier gleamed upon his dark red hair. Logan tried to speak but she sensed Melchiresa urging her to be silent. Slowly Narmartë moved forward and it was as if no one else existed and Logan could have sworn the light from the chandelier softened.

“My Lord Penlod, Thlim Climbol.”

Narmartë swept into a deep graceful curtsy and when she looked up her eyes practically glowed. Penlod moved closer until he was only a few inches from Narmartë.

“My Lady Narmartë Thlim Ith Mindon, need we be so formal? Have we not known each other since we were children?”

Now for the first time Logan sensed a flush to Narmartë’s checks, “True my lord but this is the first time I’ve seen you, in private, since our betrothal.”

Penlod reached forward with a large hand to tilt Narmartë’s head up, “All the more reason for informality.”

Then he slowly leaned down and brushed his lips against Narmartë’s. In that moment Logan realized that she’d forgotten to breathe, so caught up in the spectacle was she. The simplicity of the reunion did nothing to suppress the undercurrent of passion. For several heart beats they stood in each other’s arms and then Narmartë seemed to come to herself. She stepped back and turned to face Logan and Ronir, although Logan noted that she was still holding Penlod’s hand.

“My lord Penlod, it is my pleasure to introduce you to the Lady Ilcaúrna et Maiar. It was with her timely aid that I was able to return to you. I and all the people of Nevrast owe her and her companion Sornohen et Maiar, a debt of gratitude.”

Reluctantly Penlod looked up from Narmartë to Logan and nodded. “Indeed, then I’m doubly blessed, for you have returned to me my beloved and our people who remained in the outer realm.” Then he looked a little closer and continued, “Yet you do not appear in the shape of the Maiar as the bards have taught us. Instead you resemble one of the Atan.”

Logan was suddenly aware of three sets of eyes looking at her and she felt Melchiresa stir.

“I understand your words, and I’ve got no answer for them. I have never named myself Maiar. It is true that I come from beyond Arda.”

“I have seen her transform my lord, just as the Maiar are said to be able to do. She can change her shape and the Song is Strong within her. She has dominion over the Air, Fire, and Metal and has used her power to save our people.” Narmartë’s voice carried a touch of awe and the look she gave Logan made her feel uncomfortable.

“What a wondrous thing. My Lady Ilcaúrna, would you honor us this night with a display of your power?”

At this Logan felt Melchiresa shift again, *Hmmmm, I think they want to play.* Logan could feel Melchiresa’s eagerness to show what they could do, and for some reason she was reluctant to show off too much.

“If I were to transform I’d ruin this dress, and that would be a real shame.”

Then Logan, before her hosts could say anything held her left hand out and summoned her power. Fire danced down and around her arm in a spiral and then a ring formed around her wrist. A line of fire broke away from the circle and shot across and then back, again and again until a pentagram of fire wreathed Logan’s wrist.

There was a collective intake of breath and then Sir Ronir spoke, “Beautiful, and powerful, truly we are all blessed tonight.”

Molly looked down at the map and felt frustrated. For some reason he’d always thought that Elfish cartography would be superb. Still it was good enough to get a general sense of the land. Nevrast was surrounded on all sides by a mountain range called Echoriath, or the encircling mountains. The territory was about half again as big as Molly’s native Michigan and in the center of the land was a great bog or swamp. From the mountains several streams or rivers flowed down into the swamp. The seven Elven villages had been built in a crescent starting to the north of the swamp and continuing around the east side with the last village south of the bog. Lindornëa and Ilcanalta had been the two north most villages and the force of Orcs had hit them from the west. While this had happened a second force had come in from the east attacking the eastern most village of Talatphen cutting off the northern villages from those south of the bog.

Then the force in the east had turned west and north attacked toward the army that had destroyed Lindornëa. As far as Molly could tell four villages had been destroyed with the eastern most two a complete loss. There were three villages south of the bog. Molly glanced up from the map as the flap to the tent opened and Sir Fallaistra entered. After a moment he waved the blonde Knight over and looked at the other faces watching him. These were the leaders of his Warband. Even the thought of leading a Warband felt odd to Molly but he suppressed the feeling. Time for that later.

“From what I can see, we’ve got one of two choices.” Sir Nenthal said, pointing at the map. “We can try to prevent the two Warbands of Angband from linking up. Or we can try to go around one of them and get down to the southern villages.”

“Do we know that the southern villages have survived the attack?” Tanna asked.

Nenthal glared at Tanna clearly upset that she’d questioned his assertion. “Can we afford not to assume that they survived?”

“What news, Sir Fallaistra?” Molly asked.

The Knight moved up to the table. “Aye, my lord, they have. But the reports are not conclusive. The horde to the east of us has spread out and we’re having trouble getting scouts past them. The Warband to the west is dogging our trail and appears intent on bringing us to battle.”

Molly glanced down at the map and frowned. With forces to the east and west, and a bog to the south and mountains to the north there didn’t appear to be much choice. Logic dictated to hit the force to the east hard. Since they’d spread out if he concentrated his forces in one spot Molly should be able to push through the line and escape the trap. The he felt Kratos stir, *We’re missing something.*

‘I know.’ Molly thought looking down at the map. ‘What I wouldn’t give for a couple of satellites and a predator or two.’ Even if the dispersal of the army to the east was an opportunity, where should he strike the line? Molly felt another surge of frustration and wanted to lash out but knew it wouldn’t do any good. Besides seeing ones commander lose his temper wasn’t good for morale. Silence feel on the tent as the Elves watched Molly.

“I need more information.” Molly muttered and then turned to the tent door.

“My lord, where are you going?” Alion, the First-Spear, asked.

Molly paused and looked over his shoulder at the NCO. “I’m going to go out and look the situation over and then figure out our next move.”

Without waiting for a reply he moved out of the tent. The afternoon sun was trying to fight its way through the overcast and Molly wondered if the steady grey light was a product of the power of Morgoth or if it was just part of the natural weather pattern. Molly paused to look over the camp impressed with the organization of the Elves. The rows of tents were neat and orderly and the defensive perimeter with the palisade was in place. With a grunt of satisfaction Molly looked over at his Lieutenants, “I’ll be back in a few hours. While I’m gone Sir Fallaistra is in charge.”

Even though there wasn’t a visible reaction Molly could tell that Sir Nenthal wasn’t happy about it.

*Tough, Fallaistra has held command before and she’s obviously more experienced.* Kratos’ thought confirmed Molly’s judgment and he turned away. Even in an Army fighting for survival politics played a role.

“What do you plan to do my lord?” Alion asked.

Now Molly moved away from the rest of his Lieutenants and ignored Alion’s question. Instead Molly focused on the tattoo on his back. The Griffin, Boreas, was a full back tattoo and as soon as he reached for it Molly felt him twitch and move. Then he felt a fierce sense of satisfaction at being summoned. Molly let out a breath and tried to draw upon Boreas’ power and it was like a damn burst and energy flowed into him.

Molly threw back his head and screamed, the cry shifted and grew louder, higher pitched and clearer until it was more like the call of a giant eagle than that of a human. Liquid fire raced down his veins and for a minute Molly thought he’d be consumed by the power. Then Molly was falling forward onto all fours as a huge set of wings burst from his back. Cramps twisted his muscles and his skin writhed and stretched and changed. Molly felt his face push out and clutched at the ground with his front talons. Then the pain receded and Molly lifted his head to look around.

The Elves that had walked out of the tent with him looked much smaller than they should have and it took Molly a moment to realize he was now much bigger than before. He turned his head and discovered that he could almost turn it all the way around. This allowed him to take a look at his great black wings and tawny cat body. As Molly examined his new body he felt a sense of pride and happiness radiate from the Boreas. There were no words spoken into Molly’s mind like Kratos did, instead Molly could feel the Griffin’s emotions, its fierce pride, and a desire to hunt and to fly.

Molly keyed in on the desire to fly and his body crouched and then sprang into the air. In the lighter gravity the leap carried Molly further than he’d expected and then Molly sensed the Boreas pushing doing something with the magic in the world around. Molly snapped his wings up and down in a rhythmic beat and he rapidly climbed higher and higher. Then it occurred to Molly the Boreas could feel and manipulate the magic in the world and use it to fly. Higher and higher Molly climbed and he had no way of knowing how high he was but from this height and with his improved eye sight Molly could see the mountains to the north, the bog to the south, and the fires of the army of Gothmog in the west. Molly circled the camp as he continued to climb until some instinct told him that he was high enough.

Then Molly soared to the east. The second army of Morgoth was a problem. They didn’t know where they were and Molly suspected that the dark host wouldn’t have thought to take precautions against aerial observation. The flight east took about thirty minutes and then Molly spotted something moving in the forest below. His eyes instantly zoomed in on the movement and Molly spotted a troop of Orcs marching toward his Warband. Molly continued searching and discovered troop after troop. The Orc commander had obviously taken his army and dispersed it into a skirmish line. That line was several miles long and he planned to use it to find Molly’s forces.

Then behind the skirmish line Molly spotted the main body. This army easily outnumbered Molly’s force by five to one. Behind the main arm, a reserve force of Orc’s riding Wargs. The tactic was as obvious as it was simple, but effective. The skirmish line would find Molly’s forces and if possible fix their location. The main body would then orient on the Elves and move forward to attack and hopefully destroy them. The cavalry would support the main attack or if the skirmish line failed to fix the Elves the greater mobility of the cavalry would run them down and engage. Once the main army’s attack started the Elves would be done. If all of that failed all they had to do was hold Molly long enough for the army in the west to catch up and Molly would be caught between the two.

For a minute Molly thought about heading back to his Warband but then decided to look in on the other Elfish villages. It would be nice to know if they still existed or if they were already destroyed. It took almost an hour but when Molly descended into his camp he knew that so far the southern villages had escaped the fate of their northern counter parts. As Molly got closer he heard shouting and for a second thought he might catch an arrow or two, not that he was worried about it. Even the enchanted shafts didn’t concern him too much, Molly somehow knew that he didn’t have much to worry about.

He landed by his command tent and noticed that the guards were good enough to not draw weapons as they watched him. The tent flap opened and Fallaisra and Alion stepped out. Molly released his grip on the Griffin’s power and he could feel the mighty spirit sort of shrink and disappear into the back of his mind. As this happened Molly felt his body shifting, muscles and skin changing, and shrinking. The feeling of loss was intense there was an emptiness where there had been power only moments before. For a moment Molly thought about bringing the Griffin spirit forward and embracing the power. But he let it go. For now it was necessary to be a small two-leg. Then it was over and Molly shivered, naked, in the chilly night air.

Alion stepped forward and draped a cloak over Molly’s shoulders. “My lord, I’m pleased that you’re back. We were starting to get worried.”

“Ah, well, it’s good that you’re here. Summon my Lieutenants, we have to work quickly if we’re going to escape the trap before us.”

Current Situation: Logan and Molly, transformed by the Medallion and transported to Middle Earth are fighting for their lives. Separated by the tides of war they each face new challenges. Molly is forced to draw upon the skills and memories she gained from Logan and the power of the masculine spirit of a Maiar Knight who now shares her body as she leads the survivors of Nevrast in a desperate struggle against the forces of Angband. Logan having helped get the refugees of Lindornëa and Ilcanalta into Tumladen now face a new challenge, Elven politics. Guided by the female Maiar spirit Melchiresa, he must help convince King Turukáno that the Elves that defied him and stayed in Nevrast need to be saved.

Author Note:

1: This story is based on the Altered Fates Universe concept established by Jennifer Adams, however I’ve taken some artistic liberties so this story doesn’t strictly adhere to the rules Jennifer established.

2: This is also a fanfic of the J.R.R. Tolkien world of Middle Earth in an untold tale of the First Age. Please note; I didn’t stay completely true to the Middle Earth that Tolkien set up. This is my take on what Middle Earth in the First Age might have been like.

The Orc scout paused to sniff the air, after a minute he looked back at his partner and nodded. The unspoken communication told the second Orc that everything was fine. The pair moved forward slowly, cautious, yet knowing that they had to keep pace with the rest of the skirmish line or their sergeant would have them whipped. Then out of the dark a pair of arrows darted. The accuracy was eerily perfect as both Orcs were shot through the throat and collapsed in separate pools of blood. From the shadows formed by the trees Tanna Greenleaf and her partner, another slender female Elven archer, silently moved.

They paused at by the Orc scouts bodies long enough to make sure they were dead before continuing their deadly hunt. All up and down this section of the skirmish line the best Elven scouts were at work. Tanna felt a sense of urgency because she knew that not far behind her the main Elfish Warband was on the move. They, the scouts, were the key to the whole operation. Lord Sornohen had tasked them with clearing a hole in the Orc line without alerting the host.

Again and again that night Tanna proved that she was the best archer in Nevrast. Silently she killed with enough skill to cause her partner to wonder if she ever missed. Her slender bow was made of a white wood and recurved in a way most had never seen. Many an Elf had tried to draw the bow and failed. Yet when Tanna used it, it appeared to be effortless. She had once explained that her father had made it for her before he’d left Valinor, before she’d been born, and that she and the bow were friends.

By midnight the hole Lord Sornohen needed was done and Tanna moved further into the wood. The great bog was on her right and the eastern host of Angband was on her left. The night was quiet and the low overcast of clouds prevented starlight from reaching through the trees. Then Tanna paused cocking her head to one side. Through the trees, carried upon the night breeze, she heard a faint melody. The music was instantly mesmerizing and without looking at her companion she followed it. The two of them stumbled into a clearing and for a moment Tanna couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing.

There in the middle of the open area an Elven woman with long golden hair sat upon a cloak. Her legs were folded to one side and she was gently strumming upon a harp. The music was so beautiful, and disturbing, that Tanna didn’t notice that she’d moved to the edge of the cloak until she stopped walking.

The woman kept on playing, but asked, “You are a very skilled archer, child, tell me your name?”

“Tanna Greenleaf,” Tanna was surprised to hear her own voice. She hadn’t tried to speak yet the words had tumbled out.

“Tanna Greenleaf,” the woman said, as if tasting the name. “What is your role within the Elfish Warband, Tanna?”

“I’m the chief of scouts and archers for my Lord Sornohen et Maiar.”

There was a shifting within the woman’s posture and she patted the ground next to her. “Come, Tanna, sit down, we have much to talk about.”

Tanna started to move forward and then her eyes met the woman’s and Tanna saw that instead of normal eyes the woman’s appeared to be windows into a furnace filled with fire. Then she dropped her eyes and settled to the ground next the harper. The woman then looked up at Tanna’s partner, “Sleep child, I need to have words with your leader.”

The second Elf without a word settled to the ground and closed her eyes, and was fast asleep within minutes. There was a part of Tanna that was alarmed at this and by the vision of the woman’s eyes she tried to stand up but her body refused to respond. She tried to speak but her lips remained closed.

“Now, child, I need to know everything you can remember about Sornohen et Maiar and everything about you and your role within the Warband.”

The Orc Warchief and Commander of the Warg-Riders, Xorag, stood on the ridge that gave him a good view of the host. Even though it was night, his vision was excellent and he could see that the host had slowly moved forward. It couldn’t afford to get too far behind the skirmish line, and if it got too close then it might not be able to move north or south fast enough to engage the enemy, depending on where Elfish force was hiding. Xorag had to maintain his position as well, relative to the main host. Once they engaged the Elves he would circle them and hit them from either flank. Of course a Warg-Rider could cover far more ground than an Orc, so he didn’t need to be as close to the host. For a moment he thought about giving the command to mount up and move forward but he know this was just his desire to be doing something, waiting went against his nature.

Suddenly the sound of hooves filled the air and Xorag spun around to see what was going on. From the tree line burst an Elven Knight followed by another and another. In a few seconds more than a hundred Knights appeared charging toward the Orc cavalry. Xorag knew that this was impossible. The Elven Warband had been trapped between Gothmog’s army in the west and Kâlraug’s force in the east. It was impossible for a Warband to be east of Xorag’s Warg cavalry, yet there was no denying what his eyes saw. Then the Knights were upon them.

Xorag leapt into the saddle of his Warg and blew the horn attached to his saddle by a thread of leather made from Elf-hide. The Warg cavalry might have lacked discipline but they made up for it in speed and a sense of self preservation. Before the Elfish Knights had gotten much beyond the outer line of riders, the Warg cavalry were in the saddle moving to engage the Elves. Xorag felt his pulse race, by his estimation there were about two hundred Knights facing his Riders, the odds were ten to one in his favor! He bellowed his war-cry and charged the leader of the knights. A She-Elf, in golden armor with a red tabard and she practically glowed with power and vitality.

The momentum of the charge had dissipated and before Xorag could reach her the leader of the Elves lifted a bugle to her lips and blew a loud clear blast. The cavalry wheeled about and disengaged from the numerically superior Warg-Riders with an enviable skill. The Orcs had been taken by surprise and had reeled back in fear, but that fear had quickly turned to rage and they’d rallied against the Elves. Now that the Elves were in retreat, that rage turned to glee and the shout went up to give chase. Xorag put his heels to his Warg and swung his long handled war-ax in a circle over his head before pointing it at the fleeing Elves and gave the order to pursue them.

Molly watched as the force of Knights approached. Sir Fallaistra led the way with her Knights following closely behind. Even with Elfish vision most of the Warband would have trouble seeing them at this distance, in the dark, but ever since Molly had learned how to embrace his Griffin nature his vision had improved and seeing in the dark had become simple. Sir Fallaistra was leading her knights up a dry streambed at a breakneck speed.

Running their horse through the forest was difficult and the Warg-Riders held a huge advantage. But the dry stream bed allowed Sir Fallaistra to take advantage of the full speed of her Elven-steeds and to open the gap between them and the Wargs. The streambed ran between a pair of low ridges. Obviously during the rainy season the stream had cut a path through the land to the bog at the center of Nevrast. Then from the forest behind Fallaistra the first of the Warg-Riders burst into view.

As the Knights followed the streambed the banks rose higher and became steeper until they’d formed a pair of steep cliff like ridges to either side. The stream got narrower as the sides got steeper and the Knights were forced into a tighter formation as they pulled away from the Warg-Riders.

Abruptly, Molly embraced Kratos spirit and felt his bones shift and grow. Armor appeared out of nowhere covering Molly in a layer of protection. The change took a few seconds and once done Molly drew his sword and pointed it to a spot over the draw where the Warg-Riders were still chasing the Elves and unleashed his power. A spark of light leapt from the tip of his Gladius and raced up into the night air above the Orcs. When it reached its apex over the Orcs it burst into a ball of white hot flame just over a foot in diameter. The light was bright enough to be seen for miles and the Elven Archers stationed along either side of the streambed, seeing the signal, let fly with a volley of white fletched arrows.

The Orcs were taken completely by surprise, blinded by the light, and in that moment they hesitated. The led riders died under a storm of arrows. Then horns sounded at the far end of the draw and Molly with his superior vision saw the Elfish infantry move into position to close off the Orcs line of retreat. The archers continued to ply their deadly craft upon the Orcs who were stalled, confused, and unsure what to do. The draw was so narrow at this point that the Warg Cavalry where pressed nearly shoulder to shoulder making them easy targets for the archers.

The Elfish cavalry had now passed Molly at the upper end of the draw and Molly moved forward bringing with him the rest of the infantry. The slope down to where the Orcs were trapped in the dry streambed was enough to add momentum to Molly’s charge. Then he was upon them and through their line. The Elfish infantry hurried to keep up, but Molly didn’t care. The Orcs couldn’t stand the pressure from the archers and Molly’s charge and Xorag sounded the retreat.

They started to fall back moving down the draw when the main force of Molly’s infantry hit them from behind. Now panic set in and the Orcs tried to climb the sides of the draw. The sides at this point were like cliffs and the archers along the top took full advantage of this fact. A few of the Orcs made it to the top but they were cut down ruthlessly by the defenders. In an act of brave desperation Xorag charged forward. His battle ax took the lives of a pair of Elves before he faced Molly.

Undaunted by the glowing power he faced Xorag swung an over hand strike at Molly’s head while Kîr, his Warg, lunged at Molly’s leg. Molly blocked the ax with his Gladius and stepped back quickly so that Kîr’s fangs snapped uselessly.

“Throw down your weapons spawn of Morgoth and I will let you live.”

Xorag’s snarl sounded almost identical to Kîr’s as they both attacked. This time Molly reversed his move, blocking the ax with his shield so that he could bring his Gladius down in a might sweeping cut. The blow passed through Kîr’s neck and sent Xorag tumbling to one side as the giant wolf died. Xorag stumbled to his feet just as Molly stomp-kicked him in the chest. The Orc War-Chief was thrown back and he lost his grip on his ax. He rolled onto all fours trying to get up and draw his scimitar and then the pommel of Molly’s sword made contact with his neck and he knew no more.

Molly looked out over the field of battle, ‘if you could call it that,’ he thought, ‘more like a slaughter house,’ and almost felt bad for the Orcs. The trap had worked to perfection and with the Warg Cavalry gone the army of Morgoth didn’t have a force that was capable of running the Elves down. Now Molly could out maneuver the enemy at will and choose the ground for each engagement. The strategic advantage he’d just won was something he wondered if his opponent would fully appreciate. ‘Well, no matter, before the summer is over he will!’ Molly thought.

“My Lord Sornohen?”

Molly continued to look out over the draw, he’d heard her approach and by now he was familiar with her scent and didn’t need to look. Boreas had improved all five of Molly’s senses and he was becoming more and more used to using them.

“Yes, Sir Fallaistra, what is it?”

“The cavalry cleared the draw and I’ve sent them forward to screen our movement. As you ordered.”

“Excellent.”

Molly looked over at Fallaistra. Her armor still glowed softly as she started to bank her power. Just then the light Molly had summoned failed and darkness descended upon them.

“What is it?”

“Forgive me, my lord, it’s just . . .” she paused to collect herself, “I’ve fought the forces of Morgoth before, but never have I seen such a slaughter. I doubt we lost a score yet, unless I’m mistaken, the entire Warg Cavalry has been annihilated.”

Molly turned to look down at the draw. Orc and Wag bodies had died in such close proximity that they lay, piled on top of each other and the dry streambed now ran with their black blood. Molly wondered briefly how far downstream the blood would flow before it dried up.

“That was the idea, Fallaistra.”

“I had assumed, due to your name that you are a disciple of Manwë for your eyesight is keen and you can take the shape of a mighty beast of the sky. But after seeing this, I now understand, you must be of the House of Tulkas. Only one who has studied with the Champion of the Valar could bring such ruin upon Morgoth’s forces.”

Molly let out a sigh and had to suppress the desire to tell Fallaistra that he had no idea what she was going on about. Instead he let go of Kratos and felt his body shift, shrinking as his armor disappeared. In a few seconds he was naked and was startled to realize that his manhood was engorged. At this Molly heard Kratos chuckle in the back of his mind.

*Nothing like a good fight to get the blood up!*

For a second Molly wanted to cover himself with his hands but his male pride wouldn’t allow it. Then Fallaistra handed him the cloak he’d discarded at the start of the battle. Their hands touched and Molly was suddenly very aware that Fallaistra was a beautiful female. He had a brief image in his mind’s eye to throw her to the ground and take her, here on the field of battle for all to see. Molly felt Kratos urging him to act, it was an ancient rite of victory to make a son on the field where you’d slain your enemies.

*Our sons will be fine and strong.*

Molly pushed back the compulsion and ignored Kratos, but when he looked down at Fallaistra Molly saw that some of what he’d been thinking must have shown on his face because the look she gave him said that such an act wasn’t unwelcome.

“Send someone to find the First-Spear. I want to have our forces moving within half an hour.”

Fallaistra saluted and as she turned to go Molly added, “Oh, and let Tanna Greenleaf know I need to speak with her.”

“Aye, M’Lord.”

As Fallaistra walked away Molly couldn’t resist watching her shapely figure and he wondered what it would feel like to run his hands over her smooth backside, to grip it with both hands and bury his cock to the hilt in her. He took a half step forward and felt Boreas come awake watching the eligible female. The Griffin’s thoughts weren’t sophisticated, he was male, Fallaistra was female, and mating was a natural and appropriate act. ‘Not you too!’ Molly thought and forced the male aspects into the back of his mind, he had work to do.

Dawn had come before Molly had allowed his army to set up camp. The Elves dropped gratefully to the ground but Alion, the first spear, and Molly had moved among them getting the tired warriors to set up camp before resting. The night had been long, first the forced march through the enemy lines. Then the battle with the Warg-Riders and finally the second march. Molly knew his Warband needed rest. But he also knew that they needed to get leagues between them and the enemy before he allowed it.

“Cap’n we’re settled in, you should rest.”

Molly glanced over at Alion. The old warrior had a fresh looking cut along one cheek and he looked tired.

“I’m not the only one.”

“Aye, once the watch is set I’ll settle down for a nap.”

“I suppose that your right.”

Molly moved to the center of the camp and his tent, he felt tired but not as tired as he should have. Somehow he knew that it was vitality that came from Kratos and Griffin. Even in his human form he could feel the power of the tattoos flowing into him. If he had to, Molly knew, he could continue for days without rest. Well, there were maps in his tent, he’d take a look at them and then maybe a quick flight to scout out the enemy’s position.

Already thinking about his next move Molly opened the flap to his tent and stepped into the dimly light interior. As he did he caught the scent of Tanna, just before she stood up.

“My lord, I understand you needed to speak with me?”

Molly let the tent flap drop and stepped in, “Yes, I need you to divide the scouts and archers into two groups. One will be my eyes and ears the other must start hunting Orc scouts.” Tanna moved closer to Molly he became very aware of how attractive she was and Molly felt his new appendage grow hard. Trying to ignore his body Molly continued, “Now that we can out maneuver the enemy our next task is to blind him.”

Tanna was now standing only a foot from Molly he realized that she’d taken off her armor. She still wore the green of a scout and archer but the thin fabric seemed like a fragile barrier. Tanna looked up at Molly had her eyes seemed to smolder with desire.

“Yes, my lord. Shall I lead the hunters and or would you prefer to . . . keep me close to you?”

Molly stepped closer and reached down to tilt Tanna’s chin up, “Cainir.” The name came out with a gravelly sort of sound and Molly tried to clear his voice of desire, “He can lead the hunters, he is a skilled ranger and is used to this sort of work. Hunting Orcs in the wild.”

Tanna lifted a hand up to touch Molly’s cheek and he felt a spark and then desire for this woman drove almost all thoughts from his mind. He leaned down and kissed her. The kiss seemed to go on and on and a part of Molly’s mind said this was wrong! He was a woman, not a man, but that part was drowned out by the raw power of the masculine need. The need to dominate, to control, to take this delectable female and thrust into her inner softness to dominate and own her. Molly leaned back and he could hear Tanna practically purring with pleasure. Again Molly’s mind rebelled he was a girl, this was wrong! There was an almost silent chuckle from Kratos, *Lad, you are no more female than a stallion, now take that woman!* the rampant member in Molly’s trousers was now impossible to ignore.

Then Tanna reached down to stroke his cock through his trousers, “What does my lord intend to do with me?”

Abruptly Molly gave in, the needs of his body were too much to ignore and Tanna’s brazen desire had turned the flame in Molly’s blood into a full blaze. Molly scooped Tanna up and carried her to the blankets set on the ground near the back of the tent.

“Oh, aye, I plan to keep you very close!”

Logan tried to brush her hair out of her eyes and couldn’t help staring. They’d been riding since an hour after sunrise and even though they were still in the pass the trail had just turned and now Logan for the first time could see the valley below. The Valley of Tumladen stretched out in front of her green and flat with small streams crisscrossing the verdant plain. Even at this height she couldn’t see the far side of the valley. At the edge of her vision, shining white upon the only hill in the valley, the morning sunlight fell upon a city with tall buildings made of a white stone.

“Ondolindë, the city of fountains,” Narmartë said, moving over next to Logan. “It is also called Gondobar or Gondothlimbar, the city of stone and the city of the Dwellers in Stone; some of have called it Gwarestrin, the Tower of the Guard, and Gar-Thurion, the Secret Place for the city is hidden from Morgoth. But these days it is commonly known in Sindarian as Gondolin the Stone of Song.” Narmartë’s voice had taken on a strange quality, filled with a raw emotion, and Logan looked over at her. But Narmartë was looking out at the city, “It is said that King Turgon fashioned it after Tirion the city of the Valar in Valinor itself.”

“King Turgon?”

At this Narmartë seemed to come back to herself and look over at Logan, “King Turukáno’s Sindarian name is Turgon.”

Logan nodded happy to have Narmartë talking again. Dinner last night had been awkward. Narmartë and Penlod had obviously wanted to be by themselves yet they’d refused both Logan and Ronir’s attempts to leave insisting that they share a meal. When dinner was over Sir Ronir had offered to escort Logan back to the Inn. Logan had quickly accepted and as they’d left she was keenly aware that neither Narmartë nor Penlod were really aware of their departure. Ronir, as it turned out, was an excellent companion. The night had been young enough to spend a few minutes walking around the town and Logan had learned a bit of its history and that of the guard, and the gates that protected the valley from Morgoth’s forces.

As they’d walked through the town Logan wondered if this was what it felt like for a girl to go on her first date. Her heart fluttered and raced and she found herself laughing, even when Ronir’s jokes weren’t all that funny. By the time they’d returned to the inn Sir Ronir was holding Logan’s hand and Logan could have sworn that her feet didn’t need to touch the ground. He’d left her with the promise to see her again before dawn. When Logan had asked why, Ronir had told her that they’d all been summoned to the palace.

Logan had met Narmartë the next morning in the common room for a quick breakfast of fruit, bread, and cheese and Narmartë had been very quiet up until now. Logan wasn’t sure what had happened but she was sure that whatever it was it had been a life changing moment for her. Seeing that Narmartë was talking Logan took advantage of the opportunity.

“What is King Turgon like? Will he provide forces to help in the defense of Nevrast?”

At this Narmartë looked over at Logan and then shook her head. “I don’t know. All of us, those who stayed in Nevrast, did so knowing that we were on our own. The King wanted all of his folk to take up residence in Tumladen and was upset with any who stayed.”

“But I thought you were presented at court?”

“Yes, my family came with the King into Tumladen, but many of my kin did not. We traveled from time to time out into Nevrast to visit. It was on one of those trips that my parents were ambushed and slain. After that I chose to revenge myself upon the Orc’s of Angband by serving as a Ranger in Nevrast under my kinsman Sir Helcëtôr’s command.”

Narmartë’s voice trailed off and for a time they continued in silence. The trail up into the pass had been very narrow at times and filled with switchbacks. Now that they were through the pass it widened out and was much easier going. By the time the sun had climbed to its peak they were out of it and upon the flat plain. Now Logan looked around in awe. The road was made of white stone and ran straight toward the city. The streams she’d spotted earlier crisscrossed the fields bringing water to the farmers before running into a large lake at the foot of the hill.

Logan didn’t have Molly’s eyesight but she was surprised at how large the valley was when Narmartë informed her that they’d be stopping at an Inn for the night and that they would be traveling all day tomorrow and not arrive until noon on the day after. The mountains had been cold and Logan had learned to draw upon her power over fire to heat herself but now that she was in the valley the air was warm and filled with the rich scents of growing things.

They made good time along the great road and as they passed small villages or individual houses the elves dwelling in the valley paused to wave and call out to them. The openness and expressions of contentment told Logan that these Elves were isolated from what was going on out in Nevrast. It made her wonder how they would react if they knew that their kin were being slaughtered. Somehow Logan doubted that the King was ignorant of events in the outer world. By the time they stopped for the night Logan felt her unease turn into a sense of foreboding. She didn’t know what was going on with Molly but she felt that he was in danger. Whatever he’d gotten up to she knew that Molly must be in the thick of the fighting and here she was, safe, playing at being the perfect little lady. Molly’s dad, Richard, had hired her to keep Molly safe and at the moment Logan was failing at that task.

Logan looked into the mirror still a bit surprised at the red-haired beauty that looked back. Molly was a beautiful woman and now that Logan wore her body she was as well. Logan figured that she’d have gotten used to the image by now if there had been more mirrors since she no longer noticed the movement of her breasts as she walked. In fact her body felt so normal and natural that she was having trouble remembering what it felt like to be a man.

Two and a half days in the saddle should have left her feeling tired but the vitality that Melchiresa poured into her had washed away the fatigue. Logan looked at the green silk dress and ran her hands over the gossamer material, a gift from Narmartë after they’d arrived at the palace. Attendants had shown Logan to a room with a large tub and even though she wasn’t tired the bath had been an almost decadent luxury.

Now, clean and dressed in silk the battle going on in Nevrast seemed like a world away. The King had to be convinced to help. Logan could tell that Narmartë was worried. During the trip to Gondolin Narmartë had explained that requests for aid had been denied in the past. Logan hadn’t told Narmartë what she planned to do, but she knew that she had to do everything she could to help Molly and the Elves in Nevrast. ‘Let’s see if the King can turn down one of the Maiar.’ she thought. Then Logan reached for Melchiresa’s power and felt it spread from the tattoo on her back flowing forward shifting Logan’s flesh. At the same time Logan managed to control the change so that she only gained a couple of inches although the front of the dress was now stretched tight across Logan’s much larger chest.

*Hmmmm . . . Green looks good on us.*

“Yes, it does.”

Logan turned to check out her profile the long black hair didn’t hid the small silver horns and Melchiresa’s magic had altered the outfit so that her wings now had a pair of holes in the back of the dress.

“Yes, let’s see the king ignore us now.”

Just then a bell tinkled and Logan knew that someone was at the door. She crossed the room her boots made a harsh click-clack but she knew this would only add to the Elves perception that she came from beyond this world. When Logan opened the door she saw Narmartë in a long blue dress and next to her stood Penlod and Ronir both wearing coats with tall collars looking very solider like in their dress uniforms.

Penlod’s indrawn breath was a sharp response to Logan’s unexpected appearance. Rather than wait for the question Logan spoke first. “I believe that you said it is important we make an impression on the King. Let him see me in my Maiar form and then decide if he won’t hear our plea.”

The two men seemed a little stunned by Logan’s comment but Narmartë giggled and slid an arm through Logan’s.

“Yes, let us see what the King will say.”

They swept past the two speechless males and Narmartë said over one shoulder, “Close your mouths my lords, one would think that you’d never seen a Lady of the Maiar before.”

The men helplessly exchanged a look before Penlod whispered, “I don’t know about you Ronir, but I’ve never seen a Maiar before.”

At this Ronir chuckled and turned to follow the ladies, “I have the advantage, sir, I saw Lady Ilcaúrna before. But it was on the field of battle as she slew a Balrog.” Ronir shook his head, “I had no idea what she looked like when not in battle. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.”

Penlod clapped Ronir on the shoulder and the two men hurried to catch up. They were almost to the throne room by the time Penlod and Ronir took up positions to either side of the Ladies. By the doors was a pair of guards in silver armor with blue tabards. Their tall helms had white wings flowing to either side making them seem even taller than they already were.

The Kings Guard opened the tall silver doors and when the four stepped in a Herald announced in a loud voice.

“My Lords and Ladies, Your Majesty, my I present, my Lord Penlod, Thlim Climbol and his betrothed the Lady Narmartë Thlim Ith Mindon, and Sir Ronir Thlim Climbol, Captain of the Ilcanalta Guards.”

There was a low murmur among the small group of nobles in the throne room as the Herald paused for breath.

“It is my great honor to present the Lady Ilcaúrna et Maiar to your majesty.”

This time the voices were more than a low murmur and the Logan saw the Elf at the far end of the hall, sitting upon a tall chair of white wood and mithril silver, held up a hand. Silence swept down upon the nobles and as if on cue the four approached the throne. As they did Logan saw that he was tall, taller than her, unless she embraced Melchiresa’s full power. A silver crown rested on his long golden hair and Logan though this had to be the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Melchiresa stirred and hummed her agreement.

*Can we play with him?*

‘No, now be quiet.’

By this time they’d reached the Diaz and Sir Ronir took a knee pressing the knuckles of his right hand to the marble floor while bowing his head. Narmartë offered a deep curtsey while Penlod bowed deeply. Some instinct told Logan to meet King Turgon’s gaze and when she did she saw that they smoldered with a sapphire fire as clear and clean as the frozen north.

“My Lord’s and Lady’s please rise.” King Turgon’s voice was like music on a summer night. Even though he was speaking to Logan’s companions his gaze never left Logan. Then he stood up and slowly, gracefully, made his way down the steps stopping only a few feet from Logan. Then he bowed.

“My Lady Ilcaúrna, to long has it been since my eyes have been graced by the sight of one of the Maiar. Please be welcome in my humble hall.”

“My Lord, King Turgon, thank you. But it is with terrible tidings I come before you this day, for even as we speak the forces of the enemy are burning Nevrast and killing your kin.”

When Logan spoke she could tell that her news didn’t come as a surprise to the King but the sound of in-drawn breath from the nobles watching told him that most of them hadn’t known.

“Aye, my lady, ill tidings indeed. Yet, I am aware. To that end,” he paused looking at Penlod, “I command My Lord Penlod. Take House Climbol and House Ith Mindon and go forth and rescue our kin.”

“My Lord,” Penlod spoke a note of confusion in his voice, “I am the Lord of House Climbol, but Sir Helcëtôr Thlim Ith Mindon has fallen upon the field of honor. The rightful heir to Ith Mindon is my lady Narmartë.”

At this the King smiled, “And are you not betrothed to lady Narmartë?”

“Aye, my lord.”

As he said it Logan felt the atmosphere within the room changed. A surge of excitement filled the air as the gathered nobles watched their King. The King turned to Narmartë, “Lady Narmartë do you intend to honor your vows and wed Sir Penlod?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then I see no reason to wait. Penlod take Narmartë’s hand.”

Logan moved to one side as it dawned on her what was about to happen. Penlod turned to face Narmartë and took her hand in his and the King laid his hand upon their hands.

“My lady Narmartë, I have loved you since the first day we met. I vow to honor you, love you, and stand by you until death part’s us.”

Narmartë looked stunning in her blue gown as she looked up at Penlod, “My Lord, I too have loved you since the day you challenged me to a race. My horse may have won the contest but on that day you won my heart. I am yours now and forever until Arda is no more.”

The simple vows said in voices filled with love shook something inside of Logan. A part of her that had been hard as stone, locked away deep inside, kept safe during all her years of combat. That hard place sort of melted and she felt tears leak down her cheeks. The power of the couple was such that as they spoke they were illuminated by a soft radiance and then it was the King’s turn.

“I have heard your vows and all present bear witness. Under the light and by the grace of Manwë and Varda I declare that you are wed. Your Houses are joined. May you prosper under the light for all time.”

As the King finished speaking there was a sort of ripple and power flowed out from the three and when it passed over Logan she knew that she’d beheld something very special. Logan felt her own power flare up as if to say that she to bore witness to the oath.

King Turgon looked out at the nobles and smiled at them and Logan felt her heart leap at his beauty. “Let us prepare a feast in honor of our newlyweds. Tomorrow we send out the red arrow and gather the People for War, but tonight we celebrate!”

Current Situation: Things have gotten complicated for Logan now in the heart of Tumladen. The charisma of King Turukáno and his bond with Melchiresa is causing him to struggle to maintain his male identity. Meanwhile Molly has begun to embrace her raw masculine power. As the campaign drags on Gothmog, the enemy commander, will push her to them limit because Morgoth has ordered him to destroy Nevrast!

<p>Author Note:

1: This story is based on the Altered Fates Universe concept established by Jennifer Adams, however I’ve taken some artistic liberties so this story doesn’t strictly adhere to the rules Jennifer established.

2: This is also a fanfic of the J.R.R. Tolkien world of Middle Earth in an untold tale of the First Age. Please note; I didn’t stay completely true to the Middle Earth that Tolkien set up. This is my take on what Middle Earth in the First Age might have been like.

***************************************

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“A Plan Never Survives First Contact . . .”

***************************************

Molly shifted back to human form just as he landed. The phasing between his three shapes had gotten easier and easier over the last couple of weeks.

“My Lord,” Sadron held out a robe and Molly took it, although he was no longer embarrassed to be seen naked. Logan’s human body had been quite handsome and even flaccid Molly knew his cock was nothing to be embarrassed about. But the Elves had a sense of propriety and walking about naked was considered ill mannered, even if no one would say anything to him.

“Thank you, Sadron.”

The thin elf stepped back, “The scouts have not returned yet, but Sir Cainir has returned and awaits your pleasure.”

Molly moved past his new Aide-de-Camp toward his command tent. One of two guards standing to the side lifted the tent flap so Molly could enter. The bright red gauntlet flashed as he did and Molly had to suppress a surge of annoyance. A week ago a strange twisted creature, sort of like a cross between an Orc and a Goblin and infiltrated the camp and made it into Molly’s tent. Molly had caught his scent and then heard him enter and killed him easily. However, the attempt on his life caused Molly’s Captains to call for volunteers. Now Molly had his own Personal-Guard, the ‘Red Arms’ they were called. Or at least that’s what Tanna had told him. Once they were accepted into his guard their gauntlets were stained red with a special dye. It wasn’t that having Guards was a bad thing, it was just that now he was watched every minute of the day and it was unnecessary since he was more than able to take care of himself.

The thought of Tanna brought a quick smile to Molly’s face. He was forced to send her out on missions; she was the leader of his scouts, after all. But somehow she managed to do her duties and still spend at least half her nights in his tent. Molly felt a twitch in his groin as his now familiar and much appreciated organ did its thing. Tanna had shown Molly things about sex that he’d never dreamed possible. Molly looked back at Sadron dismissing all thought of Tanna’s sexy lithe little body from his mind.

“Bring me Sir Fallaistra, Sir Thanradon, Sir Nenthal, and the First Spear.” Then without waiting for a response from Sadron Molly entered the tent. If there was one thing Molly had learned about Sadron it was that the Elf was competent.

Cainir stood up from the canvas folding chair and gave Molly a quick salute and came to ridged attention, “My Lord.”

Molly wanted to groan, ‘Not you too,’ but he knew better. Or rather the part of him that was now Kratos knew better. The campaign over the last few weeks had turned into a series of running battles. Well, Molly and the Elves had done most of the running, and the Orcs some chasing. Somehow Molly had managed to out maneuver the host of Orcs and Trolls led by the Balrog Captains Gothmog and Kâlraug. Each engagement had caused Molly’s legend to grow because for every Elf lost nearly twenty of the foul beasts of Angband fell.

They’d also managed to keep the two hosts north of the bog and away from the last three Elfish villages to the south of the bog. That had been one of Molly’s campaign strategies. If the forces of Angband spent their time chasing him then they wouldn’t be sacking those villages.

“At ease Ranger.”

Molly moved past Cainir to the small table next to his bed. The table held a pitcher of water and a couple of glasses. Molly poured a glass and handed it to Cainir and poured one for him. As he did he tried to ignore the rumpled bed and the faint sent of sex and Tanna. She’d slept with him last night after reporting where the forces of Gothmog were.

“I know it’s just water, but to our success.”

“Aye, success.”

Both men drank and Molly walked over to the large table that dominated the room. On the table a map was spread out showing Nevrast.

“So, my friend, I’m glad to see you back in one piece.”

Cainir nodded and moved around to stand on the opposite side of the table. “Thanks, Lord Sornohen, I fear my mission was less than successful.”

Molly sighed, “Before you report, let’s wait for the other Captains to arrive. That way we can hear it all at once.”

Cainir nodded, “As you wish my lord, but I don’t have much to say. There were no forces in the area for us to hunt.”

Molly nodded, but before he could say anything the tent was opened by one of his Red Arms and Sir Fallaistra stepped in followed by Thanradon, Nenthal and Alion.

“My Lord Sornohen, you summoned us?”

“Yes, please gather around.”

The serious note in Molly’s voice drew the Elves to the map-table. “The situation is grave. Our reports on the position of Gothmog’s forces are erroneous. We know that yesterday they were reported here and here.”

Molly pointed to a place north of the bog and east of the burned village of Lindornëa. “I just returned from a reconnaissance flight and that information is wrong. Somehow they’ve slipped by us. There is a blocking force here.” Molly pointed to a location east of his forces. “They are situated on high ground and can move north or south to engage us if we try to slip around them.” Then Molly pointed to a spot east of the bog and just north of Lanthir. “The main force is here. Within a day they will be in a position to fall upon Lanthir.” At this his captains started muttering.

“How is that possible?” Sir Fallaistra asked. “Tanna’s scouts had them located just yesterday.”

Molly shook his head, “I don’t know. Tanna reported to me their location just last night. Either her scouts were deceived or Gothmog has a new way to move a host quickly.”

“This is a disaster. There’s no way we can stop Gothmog from destroying Lanthir.” Sir Thanradan noted. The other captains murmured agreement.

“You don’t seem that concerned.” Cainir noted looking at Molly. His comment caused the captains to quiet down.

Molly shrugged, “At some point Gothmog was going to figure out that his numerical advantage was being squandered chasing us. He can ignore us and move on to doing what I think Morgoth ordered him to do. Destroy the remaining Elven villages in Nevrast and search the area for clues to the hidden valley of Tumladen and Ondolindë.”

Molly pointed at Lanthir, “We have already succeeded in our first objective.”

“And what was that, my lord?” Alion asked a faint hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Molly couldn’t help grinning fiercely. “All of the civilians in Lanthir have left. They’ve been evacuated to the south and are now in the village of Rhovan.” Here Molly pointed to the southernmost village the one furthest from Gothmog’s forces. “The three remaining villages have sent all of their warriors to Lanthir. It is the most defensible of the remaining villages sitting as it does upon the southern bank of the Great Waterfall. Gothmog will have to fight over the river. Also the defenders are led by Sir Aglaron Thlim Duilin the son of Duilin. He and a company of archers from the House of the Swallow were out of Ondolindë on a training mission. They will hold Gothmog until we can arrive.”

“What of the blocking force?” Sir Fallaistra asked pointing to the second army.

“We will have to move quickly. We can’t get around them, but if we can draw them down here. We can destroy them in detail.” Molly pointed to a spot between the ridge where the second army of Angband stood and the Great-Bog. Then he started to lay out his plan. The staff meeting lasted for almost an hour before it broke up. Everyone filed out knowing that they had their work cut out for them. This next fight would be a tough one and the fate of Nevrast might rest on their success. The First Spear held back.

“A word my lord?”

“Sure, Alion, what’s on your mind? Are you concerned about the plan or the Elves?”

Alion waited until they were alone, “Neither my lord. The plan is bold, but I’ve watched you pull off the impossible for weeks. No, my question is why?”

Molly felt a grin form at the corners of his mouth as he looked at Alion. “Why what?”

“Why have you kept this from us? You’ve obviously been working toward this goal. Lanthir is a prize that once Gothmog realized he could take, he would fall upon. You’re using it as the bait in a trap. Why didn’t you share this with us?”

“You see more than most Alion. But you’re wrong. Lanthir is doomed. All three villages are doomed if Gothmog is smart. He is a powerful and skilled fighter but luckily for us he’s not wise in the way of battle. He seems to think that raw force will always win out. Unfortunately, with enough force, he’s mostly right.” Suddenly Molly felt tired. He moved to the canvas chair Cainir had used earlier and sat down. “Look closely at the map Alion,” Molly waived at the map-table.

Alion moved over and scowled down at it. “Yes?”

“The force left behind by Gothmog, it’s three times as large as ours and has the advantage of the high ground, and is defensive. In most situations those are impossible odds. Now, factor in, even if everything goes our way and we defeat them we could easily be mauled and in no condition to fight again for weeks.”

A look of comprehension dawned on Alion’s face.

“You see it?”

“This has all been a rouse within a rouse. Your dance with Gothmog was to occupy him and give time for the villages to get ready.”

Molly nodded, “Go on.”

“You knew that sooner or later Gothmog would grow tired of chasing us and realize that he should just march on the villages. And you wanted him to do that.”

“Yes, but only after I was ready.”

Alion pointed to Rhovan, “This was the key. By gathering as many women and children to Rhovan as you could they are ready and in a position to run.” He looked over at Molly, “That’s bloody brilliant. Gothmog will be focused on Lanthir and it will take him, what two three weeks to break it?”

“I’m hoping for ten days. If Sir Aglaron can give us ten days and then fall back to Laerorn it will have been successful.”

“We’re not really going to try to destroy the blocking force are we?”

“Of course we’ll try to destroy them. But we won’t be taking too many risks. That force is led by a Balrog named Kâlraug. He must be destroyed one way or another.”

Alion nodded, “But our true objective is to block them from moving west.”

Now Molly couldn’t help grinning. “True.”

Alion looked over at Molly, “You plan to have the survivors of the three villages flee around the west side of the Bog.”

“Yes,” Molly stood up and moved to the table. “A general must always understand the true objective. We are not here to destroy Gothmog’s army. As nice as that would be. We don’t have the forces for it. We are trying to save as many Elves as possible.”

Alion pointed, “We’re blocking the army led by Kâlraug so he can’t fall on the refugees as they escape into Tumladen.”

“And Sir Aglaron Thlim Duilin, is performing the same function in the east. His job is to slow Gothmog and destroy as much of his army as possible before falling back.”

“I understand, but why keep this from the Captains?” Now it was Molly’s turn to look troubled. Before he could answer Alion spoke up, “You fear we have a traitor?”

“That or a spy.”

“That’s preposterous. None of us would betray our kind to the vile forces of Morgoth!” The offended anger filled Alion’s voice.

Molly looked into his furious green eyes and said calmly, “Then explain the erroneous scouting reports? Or the fact that on two occasions when we had part of Gothmog’s army trapped they slipped out? The only way is for someone to be reporting my plans.” Molly shook his head, “You’ll have to trust me Alion, I will tell MY Captains what they need to know, when they need to know it, and not a moment before.”

Molly could tell that Alion wanted to argue but then he nodded. “Aye, my lord, I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand.”

Gothmog looked out at his army as it moved up toward the river and grinned in pleasure. The village of Lanthir was just over the swift moving river and from here Gothmog could hear the sound of the water fall just south of his position. There was no way the village could resist his army and he eagerly awaited the sacking of another Elfish settlement. For a second he was distracted by the thought of the Maiar scum Sornohen. That one had proved to be an able commander but he was no match for the cunning of the Valaraukar and if Alarukë did her work properly he would be destroyed soon.

Abruptly, Elfish War-horns blasted the night air. Then cries rang out as Elves positioned within the trees on this side of the river started shooting. ‘Impossible’ Gothmog thought, ‘they can’t have the numbers to oppose my crossing.’

Just then an Orc war-chief raced toward Gothmog, “My lord, there is a strong force of pointy ears in the trees. We are being slaughtered.”

Gothmog had to resist the urge to smash his fist into the Orc’s ugly face. “Order the Troll companies forward. Their thick hides will protect them from arrows and they can push the Elves back into the river.”

“Aye, my lord.”

The Orc raced away to obey and Gothmog looked up at the battlefield ahead of him. The last few weeks had taught him to hate surprises. He’d gotten used to them from the Maiar Captain, Sornohen, but this new development annoyed him. For a moment he considered entering the fight personally but he’d learned not to do that. The last time he’d tried to face Sornohen in person the cursed Maiar had out maneuvered him and he’d been unable to control his Army. The result had been Sornohen and the Elves escaping and he took a beating.

Gothmog watched as his Trolls moved forward and grinned. He didn’t have as many of the creatures as he’d wanted so he had to be careful when and where he used them. Applied properly they were a devastatingly powerful force. Once they disappeared into the trees Gothmog rubbed his hands together in glee, this should end the Elf threat on this side of the river. There was only one bridge and the Trolls were driving straight for it.

Gothmog turned to the closest Orc War-Chief, “Order the third and fifth companies forward. They are to take the bridge and hold it.”

The Orc growled something that sounded like a proper response and rushed off. Gothmog waited and then an explosion ripped the air. Frustrated at not knowing what was going on Gothmog turned to the Orc leader of his scouts.

“Find out what just happened!”

The Orc saluted and rushed off. Now Gothmog started pacing. Should he order more forces forward? He doubted the entire village had as many Elves as the number of Orcs he’d already committed to the assault. Then a second and third explosion ripped the air. Gothmog whirled around and was able to see the entire tree line for a half mile in either direction burst into flames!

“By the eight legs of Ungoliant! The Elves are burning trees!”

The sight was impossible but the flames licked higher and higher turning into a conflagration. Then the leader of the scouts rushed up to Gothmog.

“My lord, this was a trap!” The Orc stopped talking and quailed under Gothmog’s glare.

“Go on.”

The Elves in the woods fled to the bridge once the Trolls attacked. We pressed the advantage and they fought hard upon the bridge. Once we’d driven them almost all the way to the other side they set off some clever device and the whole bridge dropped into the water!”

Gothmog felt his body almost burst into flame but he resisted. He had learned that being goaded by his opponent into taking a rash action only resulted in additional losses.

“At least Trolls are good swimmers. Even if the Orcs are lost, my Trolls will come up on the far bank and teach the Elves a hard lesson. Continue!”

“Um,” the scout chief looked worried, “Yes, your worship, but the current is very strong here, close to the falls. My scouts tell me that only one or two Trolls made it out of the river the rest went over the fall.”

Gothmog felt the shadows swirl around him and the heat he kept banked inside almost burst out.

“Tell me the rest.”

“Just as the bridge went down the cursed Elves used some magic or device to set the woods to flame. All four companies were trapped and destroyed.”

Now the flames burst from Gothmog’s clothing him in shadow and fire and he grew in size. Once at his full height he reached out and slammed a mighty fist into the terrified Orc killing him at once. Then Gothmog moved forward into the inferno the forest on this side of the river had become.

“The Elves would never think to set the trees alight. This has to be the work of Sornohen! He is somehow working with the leader of this village.”

Even as Gothmog said it, even at the height of his rage, he felt a shiver of fear. This Maiar Commander was making him look like a fool and what was worse he was slowly running out of Orcs! Morgoth wouldn’t be pleased if he had to ask for more Orcs.

Molly looked down on the fighting and knew it was almost time. Just as he’d thought, the commander of the second army had kept to the hills. He’d sent a company of infantry to probe and to try to draw them down but they’d stayed in place. Now Sir Thanradon, Captain of Molly’s infantry, was pulling them back. It was the right decision. Molly was tempted to land in the empty field and transform into Kratos and challenge the Balrog commander to a duel. But now wasn’t the time. He needed this army to stay where it was. Every day it focused on him and his small Warband was a day that the refugees from the last three villages got closer to Tumladen.

Molly turned and flew to where his army waited. They had set up camp on a ridge across the shallow valley from the Orc and Troll army. The day they’d arrived the Orcs had probed their defenses and now Molly had returned the favor. The valley floor held testament to the exchanges in the form of the dead.

The sun was high in the sky when Molly landed next to the observation platform that had been raised on the hill near his command tent. Molly felt his body shift as he changed from Griffin to Kratos and then climbed to the top of the platform. One of the things that Molly had discovered was that he had some control over the size of his Kratos form. At the moment he stood just a hand over six feet. If he chose he could have shifted to his battle form at just under twelve feet tall. At that height and weight he wasn’t sure the platform, where his Captains watched the fight, could have supported his weight.

“They appear reluctant to leave their hill.” Sir Fallaistra noted.

“Orcs learn slowly, but I think we’ve taught them what happens when they chase us.” Sir Nenthal remarked dryly.

“What now my lord?” Cainir asked.

“We wait,” Molly answered. “You have command of the archers Cainir. Make sure they’re ready. Next they will try to send a force around our north flank. The land is steep and they will think to catch us by surprise. Put your archers with the best night vision there.” Molly felt Kratos stir and knew what he was suggesting without needing to hear it. “Sadron send a messenger to Sir Thanradon, I need a company of light infantry to go with Cainir’s archers. If the sally makes it to the top of the ridge the infantry will be needed to destroy them. Or at least hold so we can reinforce. We cannot allow them to turn our flank.”

“My Lord, I have new reports from the field.” Tanna Greenleaf said and Molly felt Kratos sort of twist within him trying to look at the lovely young Elf.

“Come with me Tanna, you can report in my tent. That way I can see the map.”

As the two left Molly felt sure that his Captains knew that after her report there would be another reason for the privacy of the tent. He also sensed they were happy for him and Tanna. The Guards saluted as Molly approached, their red-gauntlets flashing in the sun. He’d become so used to them that Molly hadn’t even thought about the pair of guards that had fallen in behind them as he and Tanna walked to the tent.

Once the tent closed behind him Molly felt Tanna’s hand circle his neck and he started to shift into his Logan body.

“No, my love, stay as you are.”

“Are you sure? This form is very strong. I don’t want to accidently hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me.” The whisper was soft and sexy and Molly felt his body respond. With a slight effort he made the armor disappear and his naked phallus was already at attention. Tanna dropped to her knees staring at the foot long monster.

“I can still change.” Molly said.

“Nonsense, I was just thinking what a beautiful cock you have.” Then Tanna took him into her mouth and Molly let out a small gasp. When he’d been the female Molly, he’d had sex. The first time had been awkward and painful. After that it got better but it had been nothing compared to this. The power of a male orgasm was mind shattering and his body recovered in seconds. He and Tanna had already spent an entire afternoon fucking and Molly knew that once the refugees were safe and he could withdraw from this fight he would go wherever Tanna wanted. Molly knew in that moment that he never wanted to go back to being female.

In the early darkness just after dusk Tanna moved through the Elfish camp. Her green and brown leathers hugged her body as she moved away from the command tent. Her entire body hummed with pleasure and Tanna felt the Song of Ainur burning through her like a wild fire. Sex with Sornohen was like having sex with a thunderstorm. The passion and power was elemental and Tanna realized that she never wanted it to stop. As this realization hit her she froze mid-stride. For as long as she could remember there was only one thing she’d wanted, power. Now, the desire for power was still there, but it had been replaced with another desire, pleasure. But not just her pleasure, she realized that she gained pleasure from making Sornohen happy. This realization left her shaken to her core. For the first time in her existence she realized that there was someone she cared about more than herself. Afte a few minutes she continued through the camp.

Judging that she was far enough from the encampment Tanna knelt down and quickly built a small fire. It was no more than a few twigs and branches but it was enough. She focused on the fire and in her mind a gate opened and she felt her Captain respond.

* Yes, Alarukë, at last, report. *

* My lord Gothmog, our forces remain held at bay by Kâlraug’s army. We cannot reach you before you destroy the remaining villages. *

There was a long pause. * Are you sure Alarukë? The defenders here are not fighting as the Nolder normally fight. Has Sornohen left your force to lead these? *

* No! I just left his tent. Sornohen et Maiar is here, right now, in this camp!*

Alarukë felt Gothmog’s concern but then he nodded, * Aye, keep an eye on him. If you can keep him in bed and away from the battlefield then so much the better. Oh, and Alarukë, if you can kill him. Please do! *

The words sent a chill through Alarukë but she dropped her head and responded, * As my lord, Gothmog, commands. *

After that the connection broke and the woman wearing Tanna’s form stood up. Full night had descended and yet she had no trouble seeing. Alarukë looked around and satisfied that she’d been unobserved moved through the forest to where her scouts would be waiting. As she walked she considered her feelings. At first seducing and killing Sornohen had seemed like a simple plan and then she’d met him.

In her millennia of life Alarukë had never met anyone like Sornohen. When she’d had sex with him she’d felt the world shift around her and now she realized that she no longer cared about power. She didn’t wish to return to Angband and serve Morgoth. All she wanted to do was lay upon a set of furs with the rain gently falling beyond the canvas of a tent while her lord pushed his mighty cock into her.

Tanna felt an ache in her groin and her nipples grew hard as she thought about Sornohen. In that moment she decided no matter what happened here after she would focus on helping Sornohen and to the abyss with Morgoth and Gothmog. Then Tanna arrived at the edge of the woods and saw the archers were engaged in repulsing the sally that Sornohen had predicted. She quickly moved forward pulling Tanna’s bow from her shoulder and joined the forces firing into the Orcs below.

Current situation: As Logan works to bring the Forces of Ondolindë to Molly’s aid the battle for Nevrast grows more desperate. Molly’s plan is working, yet she faces almost impossible odds; a numerically superior force and possibly treachery from within. Has Molly’s luck run out or will Logan arrive in time?

Author Note:

1: This story is based on the Altered Fates Universe concept established by Jennifer Adams, however I’ve taken some artistic liberties so this story doesn’t strictly adhere to the rules Jennifer established.

2: This is also a fanfic of the J.R.R. Tolkien world of Middle Earth in an untold tale of the First Age. Please note; I didn’t stay completely true to the Middle Earth that Tolkien set up. This is my take on what Middle Earth in the First Age might have been like.

Molly looked out over the battlefield and knew that this time his planning and luck had run out. Molly’s forces were trapped between the two armies of Orcs and outnumbered twenty to one. It had taken Gothmog a fortnight to break through Lanthir’s defenses and in his rage he’d set the village aflame. Molly had thought that he would pursue the defenders as they fell back. Instead, Gothmog had turned and rushed in a series of rapid forced marches toward Molly.

Inwardly, Molly cursed his own foolishness! He’d been so sure of Gothmog’s next action that he’d quit flying out to do aerial reconnaissance. Instead, he’d spent much of his time in the furs with Tanna because the fight between his army and Kâlraug’s had settled into a contest of probing each other’s forces and waiting. At the thought of the beautiful Elf Molly’s cock stirred and Molly wanted nothing more than to have that time back.

This morning Tanna’s scouts had reported that Gothmog’s army was north of his position and would be upon them in a few hours. Molly knew he had to flee even with the prepared defenses he couldn’t face both armies. As Molly tried to evacuate his forces Kâlraug had launched an assault. Molly had been forced to deal with that and while fighting it off Kâlraug had moved the rest of his force into a blocking position. Now the only chance was to fight through Kâlraug’s forces before Gothmog hit him from behind.

The river had cut a flat through the hills and that was where Molly’s infantry was currently engaged. Because of the terrain Molly wouldn’t be able to use his Calvary in the flanking strikes he’d have preferred. Instead, he focused on taking the ridge over the battle and using it with his archers to support the infantry. Tanna and Cainir were leading the assault and Molly had to suppress the flash of worry, ‘Tanna is a skilled fighter she’ll be safe,’ he thought. But Molly knew that it was a lie, unless he could get his army through Kâlraug’s none of them were safe. For a moment Molly considered taking his Griffin shape and dropping into the middle of the fight. He was sure that the power of that form would break the Orc line but if he left who would direct the battle? His second in command was Sir Fallaistra, and he’d given her the critical task of leading the Rearguard. If worse came to worse she would have to hold Gothmog until they escaped. If that happened Molly knew that Fallaistra and her entire force were doomed. He’d asked for volunteers for the duty and had to turn warriors away. Then the sounds of horns filled the air and Molly turned using his power to boost his eyesight.

“Damn!”

“My lord?” Alion asked.

“Gothmog’s lead elements are engaging Fallaistra’s force.”

With that Molly looked to the heights and even with his sight he couldn’t penetrate the dense foliage. He could hear the sounds of battle but it was taking too long. Molly sighed and looked over at Alion.

“First-Spear, I won’t lie, we are in a desperate spot.”

The old warrior nodded, “Aye, my lord.” In spite of his words Molly could feel his unshakeable confidence in him.

“I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.”

“I’ll bring up your guard.”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” Molly said grimly, “I have another task for them and you. I want you to gather the reserve, our remaining cavalry, and my guard. Watch the fight below and when the Orcs break commit all our forces to the breach. We must throw them into chaos and crack open the trap or we are all doomed.”

Alion nodded, “Aye my lord.”

“One more thing, when you sound the charge send word to Fallaistra to start her withdrawal. It’s time to roll the dice, Alion. We either win here or die.”

Alion saluted sharply, “As you command my lord.”

Molly turned toward the infantry and stripped out of the loose robe he’d been wearing. For a moment he could feel his cock, flaccid and heavy between his legs, and wished for an instant that he was using it on Tanna. Then Molly reached for Boreas and felt him respond. Power flooded Molly and his body shifted. The world shrank around him and everything came into sharper focus. Every sense felt supercharged.

Molly threw his head back and allowed all of his rage at being caught to ring out in the high pitched cry of a mighty eagle. Only no eagle could match the hunting cry of a Griffin in strength or clarity. Then Molly was climbing into the air, he didn’t climb to high, instead he covered the distance in seconds from his command post to the front lines and dove. As he did he drew in the air around him, hardening it, manipulating it, and filling it with power. Then he angled toward the front line where several Trolls had gathered in an effort to help the Orcs break through. When he landed it was with a tremendous concussive force and the Orcs in a twenty foot circle were thrown to the ground.

Molly lunged forward covering the distance to the closest Orc in an instant cutting him in half with a single snap of his jaws. Then a roar from one of the Trolls caught Molly’s attention. The creature was huge and was using what looked like a small tree for a club. It brought the club up and then down aiming for Molly’s head. Only Molly was faster than the Troll and jumped to one side. As the club hit the ground Molly lunged forward snapping his wings. Molly buried the talons of his front legs into the Troll’s shoulders and ripped out his throat with a precise slice from his beak.

The next several minutes turned into a blur of red rage as Molly spun and attacked in all directions and then a presence filled his mind. The being was at least twelve feet tall and clothed in shadow and flame. It moved through the army of Orc who scattered before its cloven hooves. One Orc proved too slow and was cut in half with a single blow from the mighty sword it carried.

“Fight me, Sornohen et Maiar! And Die!”

Molly didn’t have to think as Kratos surged forward within him. He felt his Griffin form melt away as he stood up and armor materialized around him. With a shield on his left arm Molly reached out with his right and a glowing trident appeared.

“By the Light and the Song of Ainur you will die by my hand this day!”

The Balrog, Kâlraug leapt forward swinging his great sword over his head and clasping it with both hands. Molly surged forward in the same instant and used his trident to catch the sword between the tines of the trident before Kâlraug had time to start his downward strike. Molly spun to the side twisting the trident and Kâlraug unable to stop his momentum stumbled forward losing his grip on his sword.

Alarukë raced through the trees, her scouts and Cainir and his rangers and archers followed in a loose line. For a moment Alarukë wished that she could shed her Tanna Greenleaf body and show her true dark glory to the Orcs that held the hill. But she knew better. Suddenly black arrows began to sleet into her force between the trees as Orc archers started shooting.

“Onward, for Nevrast and General Sornohen! Charge!”

Alarukë called on some of her power and she practically flew up the hill. As she raced ahead she began shooting. Using all of the grace and skill of a fallen Maiar every arrow seemed to find its mark. Then the first Orc jumped down from a tree where it had been hiding and tried to split her head open with a battle ax. Alarukë dodged to one side and fired an arrow at point blank range into its skull. Then Alarukë slung her bow and drew a pair of single sided short swords. With a cry that echoed through the woods she tore into the Orcs in front of her. Even while she was fighting she kept track of her force. They had followed her lead and Cainir was the next person into the Orc line. He’d slung his bow and was using a small round shield and a broad sword with wicked skill. For a moment Alarukë understood what the Maiar saw in the Quenderin, such was his beauty and skill.

Now more and more of the Elven rangers were moving among the Orcs. For a time it seemed like the Elves couldn’t win. The skill and power of the Quenderin was more than that of a dozen Orcs but they were outnumbered fifteen to one. Then a roar and crashing sound echoed through the trees as a pair of Trolls charged forward.

For a moment Alarukë felt despair well up a Troll was no match for her power, even a pair of Trolls. But it would take her a few minutes to destroy them and the battle hung on a knife edge. She could kill them quicker if she unleashed her true power but then Cainir and the Elves with her would knew her nature.

With a shout Alarukë leapt toward the first Troll.

Sir Fallaistra cursed as the line of Orcs washed over her first defensive position. Every Elf in the line took a dozen Orcs down before he or she fell. Yet it wasn’t enough.

“Loose!”

The single company of archers that General Sornohen had given her fired at once and the deadly rain of Elven arrows instantly took its toll. The respite in the attack allowed her infantry to pull back from the waist high pile of earth they’d hastily erected.

“Again!”

The second volley of arrows was as devastating as the first and Sir Fallaistra saw that the infantry would make it to the second barricade. For an instant she felt nothing but pride in the fighting power of her people. Elves as a rule didn’t like to fight. They enjoyed many other pursuits in their long lives, but today her people were giving a good accounting.

The narrow river flat she’d chosen to make her stand was perfectly suited for defense. To her right the river had cut a deep bed through the land, it was almost a twenty foot fall into the rushing water below. The flood plain that she stood on was quite flat but to her left the steep bluff protected her flank. The only way that Gothmog could come at her was from the front. The problem was that he had enough numbers to wear her down. ‘Come on Sornohen, break that bastard and sound the horn or we are all going to die here!’ she thought.

There was a roar from within the black horde and a squad of Trolls crashed forward. Sir Fallaistra gave the signal and her company of Knights raced to meet them. They leapt the barricade in an amazing display of athleticism and horsemanship and plowed into the Trolls before they’d made it halfway through the no man’s land between the first and second barricade. Sir Fallaistra’s heart nearly broke as she watched her friends and countrymen throw back the Trolls.

“So many dead . . . we can’t take much more of this.”

She’d spoken softly and her face was like stone. As the commander of the rear guard it was her job to buy Sornohen every second she could. Showing fear or sorrow would only weaken the resolve of her soldiers. She watched as the half dozen Knights passed through her line.

“So many dead . . .”

Molly ducked the ax blow and slammed his shield into the Balrog’s chest. He felt the power of all three tattoos blazing in him and knew that he was now glowing with a red and gold aura. The darkness that covered Kâlraug cushioned the blow and protected the Balrog who was now fighting with a pair of matching hand axes. Molly sensed more than saw the swing toward her ankle but rather than step back he moved forward trusting the greave.

It was a move Kâlraug hadn’t expected and Molly managed to jam the strike by catching the ax shaft against his greave. Kâlraug stumbled to the left and Molly lunged forward on a highline attack. Kâlraug brought up his ax to block it and Molly drove a stomp kick into his chest. This time even though he felt the shadows act to absorb the impact it was not enough and he lifted Kâlraug off his feet and threw him back a dozen yards.

For a second Molly had the opportunity to look around. He was now completely surrounded by Orcs. Yet such was the power he and Kâlraug wielded that they had pulled back leaving a wide open space for the duel. Then Molly realized that up and down the line Orcs and Elves had pulled back to watch this fight. He wanted to scream, ‘No damn you, attack! We have to break them.’ But he knew it would do no good, until this fight was over both sides would watch. For a second he wondered how the fight on the hill was going and if Fallaistra had engaged the enemy yet. Then Kâlraug was on his feet and snarling curses in the vile tongue of Angband, rushed him.

Molly threw his trident at the charging Balrog and called up his Gladius. Somehow Kâlraug managed to twist to one side avoiding most of the trident yet one tine managed to leave a fiery trail along his cheek. Molly pressed forward leading with his shield high so he could drive a Gladius strike into the foul beast’s guts. As he moved he suddenly realized that the black arrows that had been falling upon his forces had ceased.

The lightning fast rat-a-tat of a pair of ax strikes against his shield slowed him just enough so that Kâlraug was able to slide backward avoiding Molly’s sword. Yet a fierce grin spread over Molly’s ruggedly handsome face, “Give them hell my love!”

Alarukë wiped blood and sweat from her brow and looked over the hilltop. It was littered with the bodies of the dead. Orc, Troll, and Elf all cut down by each other. She felt a surge of elation at the victory but knew it was hollow. Little more than a third of her force remained.

“Ma’am, the field is ours. What are your orders?”

Alarukë looked out at the battle below and cursed. The line of elven infantry had moved forward but Kâlraug’s forces still held. Then she saw Sornohen and felt a surge of . . . love? . . . Fear? . . . Worry? The emotions were so foreign that Alarukë wasn’t sure what she was feeling. The battle between Sornohen and Kâlraug had escalated to a point where only the immortal eyes of a Maiar or a fallen Maiar could really understand what they were seeing.

“Ma’am, your orders?”

Not wanted to be distracted Alarukë snapped, “Where is Cainir? He is also in command.”

“Ma’am, Cainir has fallen.”

For a second Alarukë failed to understand and then with a sigh looked at the ranger. “Form a firing line there along the ridge two ranks deep. We will concentrate our fire on the enemy center directly in front of our infantry.”

The ranger snapped off a salute and hurried away. For a moment Alarukë considered transforming and leaping from the hill into the battle below. Between her power and Sornohen’s Kâlraug would fall quickly. Then she pulled back. ‘No, if I do that Sornohen will attack me as soon as Kâlraug is dead.’ She thought. Feeling trapped by her own deception and with few options Alarukë drew her bow and moved toward the head of the firing line.

Sir Fallaistra wiped the blood off her sword and stepped back from the fighting. They’d fallen back to the third and last barricade. Over half her force was gone including every Knight. And yet, they held. She felt a savage joy as the Orcs fell back leaving mounds of dead behind them. She lifted her sword to the sky and howled in glee! Up and down the line her soldiers responded throwing their almost exhausted defiance into the teeth of the enemy.

“We may all die here today, but the price will be high!”

One of the soldiers near her laughed, “It is a good day to die Captain.”

Fallaistra took a couple of steps back from the barricade and signaled her Aide. “Bring water.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Oh, and Artorion, this time when they come, I want you to run and deliver a message to General Sornohen. Tell him we held as long as we could but the enemy will be at his back within the hour.”

It took a moment for her words to sink in and then the young elven boy shook his head. “Ma’am I didn’t volunteer to stand with you only to run at the last minute.”

Fallaistra shook her head, “I’m not saving you Artorion. This is an important message. Beside once we fall the battle is lost. Deliver your message and then find a place that seems like a good place to die and sell your life dearly.”

For a moment Fallaistra thought he’d cry. Instead the youth nodded and offered her a crisp salute. “May we meet again in Manwë’s hall.”

Fallaistra nodded and returned the salute, “Off you go.”

When she turned her attention to the battlefield she saw something different. There was movement through the middle of the horde and then her keen elven eyes spotted him. A giant, clothed in shadow and fire and terror seized her by the throat as she realized that Gothmog had joined the fight.

“By the Light, Gothmog is upon us!”

Fallaistra could hear cries of fear up and down the line. She knew she should do something, say something, but what? They were exhausted, pushed to the brink of what they could endure. They would not survive another attack and now the walking terror, Gothmog, the Captain of Balrogs, the Slayer of Fëanor, Gothmog the Terrible was upon them. In desperation Fallaistra lifted her eyes to the sky to say one finale prayer before her doom.

Circling high above her, she saw something. The world seemed to pause around her as her mind tried to grasp the sight.

“Eagles?!”

They were huge and suddenly they dove! The eagles’ high pitched cries bounced off the bluffs as they attacked. Eagles by the hundred were descending and then Fallaistra’s ears picked up another sound. Horns! She recognized the bold notes of silver horns. Looking up and down her line she saw faces that had been filled with despair only a few seconds ago now look up in wonder.

“Aye, my hearts, your ears do not deceive you! Those are the horns of Ondolindë! King Turukáno has loosed his legions!”

Molly stumbled back, his shield arm hung uselessly. For a brief moment pain had blazed brightly as the ax bit deeply into his shoulder and then he’d twisted free and stumbled back. Kâlraug had been forced to let go of the ax and he lurched to one side as Molly’s Gladius strike to his side had been a powerful counter blow. Most of the shadow and flame had fled. Leaving a warrior dressed in dark armor. Even as Molly looked at him, he realized that this creature was as beautiful, despite the twisting horns and cloven hooves, as it was evil. The shield on Molly’s useless arm vanished with a small effort of will and Molly turned so that his good side was leading and raised the Gladius.

Kâlraug responded by lifting his remaining ax and for a moment they regarded each other and then just as Molly was about to move forward a mithril tipped white arrow appeared in the center of Kâlraug’s chest. The mighty Balrog roared in pain and stumbled back only to have a second matching arrow appear next to the first. Kâlraug’s legs failed and he sank to his knees. With a roar Molly lurched forward and brought his Gladius down in a chopping motion that clove Kâlraug’s head in two. For a second the world seemed to stand still. Then there was a horrified scream and dark power burst from Kâlraug rushing out in all directions like a furious wind and it seemed to Molly that for a moment the world shuddered.

Then it was over and Molly sank to his knees. There was a part of him that knew he should stand up. He was surrounded by enemies. They still needed to break this Warband if they were to escape the trap. Now Molly noticed in a strange detached way more and more arrows falling among the Orcs. There were screams from all around but he couldn’t make sense of them.

“The Eagles! The Eagles!”

Molly heard the cries but didn’t know what it might mean. Then the flash of bright armor caused Molly to blink. Elven warriors were around him. Rushing forward, pushing back the Orcs. ‘We did it.’ Molly thought and slowly climbing to his feet. The Orcs were in a full on panic driven route! They were throwing down their arms and armor to run faster. ‘Could the death of Kâlraug cause such a panic,’ Molly wondered. Then the sound of an eagles cry interrupted Molly’s sluggish thoughts. For a moment the Boreas wanted to change and go greet the lesser beings of the sky, but Molly didn’t have the energy.

Now the Elves around him seemed familiar with their red-gauntlets held bright swords. They surrounded him forming a protective ring, alert for any threat. Their concern made Molly want to laugh, but he was too tired. Then Alion appeared next to him.

“My Lord, we’ve won!”

Molly blinked and it took him a moment to respond, “Yes, we’ve broken Kâlraug’s force. Now we must move our troops up the flat and then over the far ridge if we’re to escape.”

“No, my Lord, there is no need. King Turukáno has sent an army from Ondolindë. They have fallen on Gothmog’s army from behind. His force is routed. Reports are that Gothmog has fled over the river and is running. But his army is destroyed!”

Molly just looked at Alion. “We’ve won?”

“Aye, my Lord. We’ve won!”

Molly could feel his exhaustion slowly give way to hope. “What of Tanna Greenleaf and Cainir? They were supposed to take the high ground.”

“Aye, my Lord, and take it they did, but at considerable cost. Cainir is dead.”

At the moment Molly was too numb to process it. “And Tanna?”

“She lives my lord.”

“Okay, um . . . I think I need to return to the Command Post.”

Alion put an arm around Molly’s waist to provide some support and grunted under the strain. It occurred to Molly that he was still wearing Kratos’ shape. With an effort of will he let go of the power he’d been holding and sank to his knees as his body shifted to the more familiar form that had once belonged to Logan. Now Alion wrapped an arm under Molly’s as the pain from his wounds, which had been held at bay by the power of Kratos, crashed home. The world lurched sideways and darkness closed in.

Current situation:

Molly distracted by Tanna Greenleaf and her new masculine urges is caught by surprise by Gothmog and Kâlraug. The ensuing battle turns desperate and when all hope of victory appears lost Logan makes his entrance.

Author Note:

1: This story is based on the Altered Fates Universe concept established by Jennifer Adams, however I’ve taken some artistic liberties so this story doesn’t strictly adhere to the rules Jennifer established.

2: This is also a fanfic of the J.R.R. Tolkien world of Middle Earth in an untold tale of the First Age. Please note; I didn’t stay completely true to the Middle Earth that Tolkien set up. This is my take on what Middle Earth in the First Age might have been like.

Logan fidgeted and then moved deeper into the shadows cast by the building. ‘God, I hate waiting,’ she thought. The Elves in the courtyard milled around in a sort of organized chaos that reminded Logan of his days in the military. Standing around waiting for the morning formation, no matter the race or culture it was all the same. Despite her impatience to be moving Logan had to admit that once the Elves started to take action they’d done so with great efficiency.

After King Turgon’s pronouncement the Elves had moved quickly. Logan thought back to the feast that the King had thrown and her lips twitched at the memory. They’d moved from the throne room through a set of tall sliver and glass doors that opened onto a garden. The sun was still high and set between the trees were small tables filled with things to eat and drink. The nobles immediately moved between the tables and Logan found Sir Ronir standing by her elbow.

“Does the King always act so spontaneously?”

Ronir’s grin was a quick flash of white teeth and then he shook his head. “I suppose that to one of the Maiar we might seem fickle. I can assure you that what the King just did was thoroughly planned.”

Logan felt puzzled and quirked an eyebrow waiting for the Knight to continue.

“Penlod and Narmartë have been betrothed for almost a hundred years. Narmartë’s obsession with taking vengeance upon the Orcs Morgoth has plagued Nevrast with has prevented their union. Now that Sir Helcëtôr is dead Narmartë is the Lord of House Ith Mindon. King Turgon acted brilliantly today, by joining them in marriage and giving Penlod the task of saving Nevrast Narmartë had no excuse to put off the wedding.”

Ronir paused to take a sip of wine and then continued his eyes sparkling. “This gives the King a perfect excuse to rescue the Elves of Nevrast without losing face over their failure to follow his orders. Second the battle will firmly establish Penlod as the Lord of both House Climbol and House Ith Mindon. Penlod has long held the King’s favor and this prevents a possible scramble for power between Narmartë and her cousins. That would have been a fight Narmartë would have lost because she would have undoubtedly left Tumladen for Nevrast.”

At this Ronir paused and scooped a fluted glass from an Elf carrying a tray of them and with a flourish offered the glass to Logan.

“Thank you.” Logan accepted the wine and after a sip gasped out, “I think this might be the best wine I’ve ever had!”

“It is said that the King brought the seeds with him from Valinor.”

“So, this wedding binds two Great Houses together and puts that power in the hands of Turgon’s ally.”

“Yes, and it does one other significant thing. With the destruction of the Orc invasion Narmartë’s desire for vengeance will have been satisfied. As the wife of a Great Lord, she will be duty bound to remain at Penlod’s side here in Tumladen. This will make Penlod happy because they are both truly in love.”

“So there were political reasons, strategic reasons, and personal reasons for the King to act.”

Ronir took a sip of wine and nodded. “Yes, the King is not cold or heartless."

“And did you or Penlod know about this before we walked into the throne room?”

At this Ronir looked away and Logan detected a faint flush. “You did! Why didn’t you tell me or Narmartë?

“There was no guarantee. We discussed it and it made sense. But we didn’t know until the King Turgon chose to act.”

“Did I hear my name?”

Ronir spun around in surprise and Logan had to suppress a giggle. She’d seen the King approach and hadn’t given Ronir any clue on purpose. It was a petty vengeance for him holding out on her, but it felt good.

“I was just explaining the implications of Lord Penlod and Lady Narmartë’s wedding to Lady Ilcaúrna.”

“Ah, how thoughtful of you Sir Ronir.”

Ronir flushed even further with embarrassment and the King turned to Logan.

“Do you think I am cold hearted for using them in this way?”

For a second Logan felt Melchiresa stir and suddenly her awareness of Turgon seemed to intensify and time stood still. Logan could feel the humor lurking beneath the King’s exterior at his helping Logan punish Ronir. Deeper still Logan felt a cold hard shield that the King used to keep others away. A wall he surrounded himself with so that he could make decisions out of logic instead of emotion. Under that shield was a deep well of sorrow and pain. Logan felt her breath catch and a tear formed at the edge of her eye. Something had hurt the King. Hurt him so deeply that every day was a fresh agony. Then below that Logan sensed a burning determination. The King would never give up. He would never give in once he’d set a task for himself. Then the odd extra sense seemed to die away and time started back up.

“My Lady would you care to walk with me? The feast will take a few hours to prepare.” He glanced over at Sir Ronir, “If that is okay with you, Sir Ronir. I know I’m stealing her away but I promise to return her safely.”

“I am my own person Turgon. And let me assure both of you I’m quite capable of looking after my own safety.”

With a laugh the King extended his arm, “Then will you accompany me for a few minutes?”

Feeling like she’d been tricked into agreeing Logan slid her small hand through his arm. The King guided them away from the nobles and Logan was a little surprised at the size of the garden. Within a few minutes it felt like they were all alone.

“I’ve not seen one of your kind since I left Valinor. Tell me Lady Ilcaúrna what brings you to Tumladen?”

Logan paused and spotted a small white flower growing from a bush next the path. She leaned down and inhaled the scent, light and sweat it almost made her head spin and she felt her nipples grown hard.

“What is this flower? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.”

“It is known as Altavendë”

“Maiden’s glory?”

The King nodded, “It is also said that its scent can only be appreciated by a maiden. Once wed the fragrance will be different. To a man the flower has no aroma.”

“I see,” Logan took a half step back from the flower and looked at the King noting that he was very tall. For a moment she thought about using her power and adjusting her height so she could look him in the eye. Instead she placed a hand lightly over his heart.

“What has caused you to be so sad?”

The King’s face turned pale but before he could step back Logan caught his eye and she felt Melchiresa’s power surge again and the King froze.

“It was your wife. Wasn’t it?”

The King nodded, “Yes. She passed away during the crossing.”

Logan could feel the beating of the King’s heart under her fingers and she stepped closer. “You grieve for her yet.”

“For as long as I live, I will grieve.”

Logan kept their eyes locked and reached up with her free hand to run her fingers lightly over Turgon’s face. Smooth skin covered high cheek bones as Logan’s fingers just touching Turgon moved down to his strong chin.

“You are very handsome Turgon son of Fingolfin. The pain you carry inside of you is eating you, you must let it go and learn to live again. You have a daughter and a people to look after. This city will one day be the light that keeps the darkness of Morgoth at bay.”

The words came out of Logan’s mouth but it was like another person was speaking. “Let me start the healing process.”

“I . . . I don’t know if I can.”

“I’ll help.”

Logan watched as the hand that had been stroking the King’s face moved around behind his head and pulled him down. Slowly their lips touched and the spark of skin on skin sent an electric thrill directly to Logan’s nipples, groin, and stomach.

‘What are you doing?!’ Logan shouted silently at Melchiresa within her mind.

*What I was sent to do. Now be still and enjoy.*

Logan felt her tongue dart between the King’s lips and the hand that had been touching the King’s heart moved down to his groin. The organ between Turgon’s legs responded to Logan’s touch and she felt a thrill run through her.

“Aahhh . . . I . . . what if someone discovers us?”

Turgon had somehow pulled back enough to separate their lips and Logan made a little pouting face. Then she waved her hand and Logan felt power surge out.

“There, the wards will cause anyone coming this way to become confused and turn around. No one will find us now.”

Then Logan reached up and undid the clasps holding her dress. It fluttered to the ground and she stepped into the King’s arms.

Logan shook her head dismissing the memory. She hadn’t spoken to Melchiresa since that night. Later that night Turgon had escorted her to the banquet and seated her on his right and at some point during the feast Logan realized that she once again had control of her body. Logan had quickly explained that the wine was getting to her and she needed some fresh air. Turgon had wanted to follow her but as the host it was his duty to remain at the feast.

Logan had fled to her room where she promptly got sick. “You bitch! You used me.”

*Yes. I did, and in exchange you have access to my power. Logan, you are a good woman but you and Molly wouldn’t have survived if Manwë and Varda hadn’t directed Kratos and I to join with you.*

“Was this your plan all along?”

Logan could feel Melchiresa move inside her. *I was instructed to find Turgon and if possible heal him.*

“Seducing him is healing him?”

At this Melchiresa giggled, *In this case? Yes. We just got lucky. He is an excellent lover. You experienced five female climaxes.*

“I’m a man! I didn’t want to ‘experience’ even one female climax!”

*You were a man. Your body is fully female and you are more and more feminine every day. In time even your spirit will be a woman’s.*

Logan heard her name and looked up. Sir Ronir was approaching and she dismissed the memory of the conversation with Melchiresa.

“I will never be a woman,” Logan whispered softly. “We’ve got to get back to the gate and get through it before Melchiresa’s right.”

“Lady Ilcaúrna, we are ready to ride.” Sir Ronir said.

Logan moved quickly to the horse that the King had given her yesterday as a gift for the upcoming battle. It was a large grey stallion and Logan had been instantly taken by its beauty and power. As soon as she was mounted Sir Ronir moved his smaller mare over beside Logan’s.

“Do you think these will be enough to destroy the army from Angband?”

“This is but a small fraction of the force that will answer the call.” Ronir responded. “It will take us two days to get to the pass, at every cross road more will join.”

Just then Lord Penlod moved out of the palace with Narmartë at his side. They both wore armor in the colors of their houses. Penlod in red and gold while Narmartë moved along next to him in sliver and white. They took the head of the column and Ronir moved up behind then and Logan followed.

Some instinct made Logan glance up and back over her shoulder and she saw King Turgon on an upper balcony of the palace. Their eyes met and the King flashed her a smile. Logan couldn’t help returning the smile and then looked away. The warmth in the King’s eyes suddenly made Logan feel tingly and it made a part of her wonder if Melchiresa hadn’t been right. The cold wall that the King had been using to shield off emotions was gone. Logan knew the sadness was still there but he was now reaching out to those he loved.

Logan felt Melchiresa stir but then she settled and Penlod stood tall in his saddle.

“Move out!”

At this command the warriors of Ondolindë moved forward a tide of bright steel.

The next two days passed in a blur for Logan. Just as Ronir had predicted at every cross road they were met by yet another band of warriors. By the time they reached the road that led up into the Hidden Way the host had swelled to over ten thousand warriors. Logan had worried at the slow pace and wanted to urge Penlod and Narmartë to hurry but had refrained. Gathering an army took time she just hoped that Molly was able to hold out until they reached Nevrast.

Moving up into the pass was torture for Logan since the pace slowed even more. Time and again she considered shifting into Melchiresa’s full form and flying up over the mountains and finding Molly. Somehow she knew that if she did that it would be a disaster.

The fifth day after leaving Gondolin dawned bright and clear and Logan, now riding next to Narmartë felt fear grip her heart. It was sudden and intense and she swayed in the saddle.

“Ilcaúrna, are you well?” The concern in Narmartë’s voice brought Logan back.

“I’m fine. But we must move if we are going to be of any use to Sornohen. I don’t understand it but I feel like we are now out of time.” Logan suddenly urged her horse forward to where Penlod was riding at the head of the column. Narmartë urged her horse to follow so both ladies arrived at the same time.

Penlod flashed a smile at Narmartë before turning to Logan. “My, lady?”

“Lord Penlod, now that we are clear of the Way, we must ride hard. I do not fully understand it, but the doom of Nevrast is with us. Abandon all caution, boldness is called for! If we don’t reach the battle field by this time tomorrow all will be lost.”

For a moment Penlod stared at Logan shocked and then without hesitation turned to Sir Ronir. “Ronir, sound the horns. We will abandon any that cannot keep up.” Then he turned to Logan. “Led the way Ilcaúrna et Maiar and if we have the strength, we will stay with you.”

The sounds of battle grew louder as they raced along through the forest. Logan glanced back over her shoulder impressed by the strength of the Elves. Penlod had been true to his word and he’d matched the pace that Logan set. The ride through the night had been exhausting and Logan knew better than to run the horses to death. Now daylight was full upon them and the sounds of battle echoed through the trees.

Suddenly Logan exited the tree line and had her first clear view of what was in front of them. The Orc army was being funneled between a ridge and a steep river bank. Logan couldn’t see the defenders but she knew that numbers were on the side of the Orcs. Penlod pulled his horse to a stop next to her and leaned forward scanning the host.

“They have not noticed us.”

His statement was full of confidence and Logan nodded. “No. They have not.”

More and more Elves began to appear from the woods and Penlod didn’t have to issue any orders as they spread out to the left and right. Rank upon rank the riders settled their steeds and prepared. It took longer than Logan would have wished for but now, at the end of the race they needed to make the attack count.

Narmartë moved up to take a spot to Logan’s left and Penlod was on her the right. He glanced at the line and nodded to Ronir. With a grin Ronir pulled a silver war horn from his saddle bag and raised it to his lips. The blast was clear and pure and it echoed over the open ground before them. At its first note the Elves moved forward. The horses were at a walk. In front, Orcs started to turn and stare. Now Logan urged her steed forward and the walk turned into a trot.

The Elves quickly dressed the line and more Orcs turned. More horns sounded as each Elven Knight drew out a horn and gave voice to their rage at the death and destruction wrought by Morgoth. Without looking Logan knew the sun was bright upon them and the colors of the host shone with the power of Elven arms. She urged her horse to a full gallop and the Elves once again moved to match the pace. Even at this range Logan could see terror upon the faces of the Orcs as they scrambled to set up some kind of defense. The distance between Logan and the Orcs closed with amazing speed yet it seemed slow motion to her.

Just before she reached the first Orc Logan raised a hand and a jet of fire flashed out blasting the first few Orcs from her path. Then her Kris materialized in her hand and with a small effort of will it grew in size becoming a long sword. Then Logan was among the Orcs.

Her body was filled with energy and Logan heard the sound of Eagles screaming overhead. A quick glance showed that the Giant Eagles who made their home in Echoriath and were the allies of Turgon had joined the battle.

The Eleven army pushed through the Orcs like a hot knife through butter and Logan caught sight for the first time of Gothmog. He stood out, a giant upon the battlefield and Logan felt Melchiresa stir. Rage washed through Logan. Rage at this being, a Maiar, a friend from before the world was formed, and a traitor to the music of Illúvatar now standing before her. Suddenly Logan knew that Melchiresa knew Gothmog by a different name and that her anger at his betrayal was personal. Without having to be told Logan leapt from her saddle her wings snapping down against the air speeding her flight by magic.

Gothmog turned and moved toward the river and Logan gave cry to Melchiresa’s challenge. At the sound of her rage Gothmog glanced back and even though they were more than a mile apart their eyes met. For the first time there was recognition upon Gothmog’s face and for an instant the shadows that surrounded him fled.

“Melchiresa!

Even though it was spoken softly the word flew through the air and Logan felt Melchiresa shudder.

“Long and long has it been my love. You should not have come!”

Logan felt a shock run through her and then Melchiresa responded.

“What does time matter to you and I? We stood together and sang in the void before the world was formed. And yet does your betrayal still sting. It is time, my husband, for you to leave this world for good.”

“No, my lord Morgoth still has use for me! Another time, my love.”

With that Gothmog turned and used his power to race away. Furious, Logan rushed after him. Suddenly pain exploded on her side and she tumbled to the right clawing at the air to stay aloft. The spear of darkness had been hurled at her by a Balrog Melchiresa recognized as Gôrlir. Abruptly Logan felt nothing but rage. Rage at being stopped from gaining vengeance on her husband for his betrayal. Rage that this Maiar would dare to challenge her. Rage at what had been done to the Elves by Morgoth. Fire and wind became her weapons as she tore into the Trolls and Orcs that surrounded Gôrlir. Logan lost track of time in a red haze of anger and power as she punished the creatures responsible for the corruption of the Song of Ainur.

Gôrlir stood against her power for a few minutes and then his sword twisted and stabbed him, his armor crumpled crushing his body, and Logan struck Kris flashing and in a fountain of blood she removed his head. Next Logan focused her anger on the Trolls and they died in waves as she moved forward. The Orcs were trying to run but Logan was now like a force of nature and wasn’t willing to let them escape. Having assumed the full mantel of Melchiresa’s power Logan towered over the Orcs and no one could stand before her. The rage died a little and Logan realized that a pair of Elven Knights faced her. She blinked and understood that one was Narmartë and the other was a female Knight who stood even taller than Narmartë.

“My Lady, Ilcaúrna et Maiar, the field is ours. The enemy has fled.”

It took a moment for Narmartë’s words to penetrate Logan’s mind and then she felt her body relax. With an effort Logan nodded and caused the flaming Kris to vanish.

“This is Sir Fallaistra, she had the command of the rear guard.”

Logan nodded at the Knight, “Hail, Fallaistra.”

“It is my honor to meet you Ilcaúrna. You’re arrival this day couldn’t have been more timely.”

Logan nodded, “Would that we had arrived sooner.”

“My Lady, your kinsman Lord Sornohen, I fear he needs your help. He fought and slew the Balrog Kâlraug and was grievously wounded. It is said that those of the Maiar can heal as well as slay.”

Logan felt Melchiresa agreeing and nodded to Fallaistra.

“Lead me to Sornohen.”

As they moved through the battlefield Logan slowly released the power she’d been holding and felt her form shrink to a normal human size. Worried for Molly Logan glanced at Fallaistra, “How grievous are Sornohen’s wounds?”

“In a moment you can see for yourself, the command tent is just up ahead.”

Logan nodded and had to resist using her wings to rush to his side. Now that the battle was won there was no reason to be jumpy and Logan suddenly felt certain that if Molly had died she would have known. The red gauntleted guards in front of the command tent snapped a quick salute to Fallaistra and then stepped aside. The tent was good sized but the number of Elves inside made it feel crowded. Logan could tell these were the leaders of the resistance because she could feel their power. Then one Elf, a beautiful female archer, caught her eye. There was something about this beauty that made Logan uneasy. Then she stepped back and Logan saw Molly. He was laying on a cot, naked, his wounds exposed and for a second shock ran through Logan because she was looking at her own body. At least her body before the medallion had done its work.

Then Logan saw Molly’s chiseled chest rise and fall and a feeling of relief replaced the surreal feeling of seeing her former body wounded. Logan moved forward and drew upon Melchiresa’s power and for the first time felt it respond sluggishly. She had pushed hard during the fighting and she was nearing Melchiresa’s limit. Then Logan knelt next to Molly and slowly placed her slender hand on his chest. Power pulsed out of her and Logan felt her body shift. Her wings and horns vanished and red hair replaced midnight tresses.

Then Molly coughed. Logan’s eyes focused on him and she watched as wounds closed and bruises vanished. After a second Molly’s eyes fluttered open and they focused on Logan.

“It took you long enough.”

“Better late than never.”

“Ah, just like a woman, always running late.”

Current Situation: At last Logan has given in to his feminine urges and under Melchiresa’s influence seduced King Turukáno. Now the “Shining Leagons” of Ondolindë have come up out of Tumladen and routed Morgoth’s forces. With their victory complete will Molly and Logan decide to return to Earth or will they stay in Arda? And have they changed so much that they no longer desire to return to their original bodies?

Author Note:

1: This story is based on the Altered Fates Universe concept established by Jennifer Adams, however I’ve taken some artistic liberties so this story doesn’t strictly adhere to the rules Jennifer established.

2: This is also a fanfic of the J.R.R. Tolkien world of Middle Earth in an untold tale of the First Age. Please note; I didn’t stay completely true to the Middle Earth that Tolkien set up. This is my take on what Middle Earth in the First Age might have been like.

Logan paused to look out over the river. It seemed like an age instead of only a few weeks since she’d crossed it to meet Narmartë and her Rangers. The rest of her group paused at the river each taking a look at the clear running water before they moved into it. The group was a little more than a dozen and even though Logan knew them all she felt unhappy with the situation.

After the battle Lord Penlod had taken command of the Elven army and pursued the remains of the Orcs. Molly had been up in a few hours but had been perfectly happy to relinquish command to Penlod. Logan was still stunned at what she’d learned. That Molly had collected the rag-tag bands of Elves and pulled them together into an army and had then fought the far larger host of Orcs to a standstill for almost a month before finally being caught. The Elves who’d explained this to Logan spoke of Molly in hushed tones of awe reserved for the greatest Elven heroes.

And then there was Tanna Greenleaf. From the first time Logan saw Molly look at her she knew that Molly was in love. A part of Logan wanted to be happy for Molly but another part was jealous. Molly shouldn’t be in love with the beautiful Elven archer. Molly should have been the girl. These feelings were further confused when Logan remembered the nights she’d spent in Turgon’s arms. She wasn’t in love with Turgon but the feelings he’d awoken in her made her wonder if she’d become so feminine that she wouldn’t be able to switch back.

Once she was alone with Molly they’d exchanged stories and again Logan was surprised at how well Molly had done. She was also startled at how unconsciously masculine Molly had become. The way he sat on the camp stool, the way he held his body, it all spoke of masculine vitality, a vitality that Logan found extremely attractive.

With a sinking feeling Logan asked, “Are you ready to go home?”

Molly looked over at Logan but didn’t meet her eyes. “I’m not going home.”

The simple statement rocked Logan. “What do you mean you’re not going home?!” As she spoke Logan rose to her feet and planted her hands on her hips. “Have you forgotten your dad is back there? That a group of fanatics attacked your house? That I was hired to protect you? And that we are in the WRONG bodies!” As she spoke her voice rose until she was almost shouting.

Molly looked down at his hands, his face awash with misery and then he glanced back up at Logan. “I love her.”

The words seemed simple enough but they rocked Logan. “What do you mean you love her?”

“Tanna Greenleaf. I love her and I can’t leave her.”

Logan let out a sigh and switched to English. “Molly, you’ve only known her for what a couple of weeks? Are you sure this isn’t just your little head talking?”

In the same language Molly replied, “Yes. I love her and nothing is going to change that. Besides I’ve grown to love this land and Logan, look at the things we can do? Can you really give up your power to return home and just be regular person again?”

“Yes, if that means getting my body back.”

Now Molly stood up, and looked down at Logan. “Fine, I’ll help you get back to the gate. I was able to send some scouts into Lindornëa and they found our gear. So I’ve got the key. You can return and use the medallion to change back. I’m sure my father will help you.”

“And what am I supposed to tell your father?”

“That I’m fine. That I’m in love and happy and that he can visit me here.”

Logan turned away and left the tent, her mixed emotions were enough that she knew she needed to be alone. As she left the tent she spotted Tanna who’d been waiting outside. They caught each other’s eye and once again Logan’s intuition told her that there was something about Tanna that wasn’t quite right. Then Tanna moved forward and into the tent and Logan strode away.

Now Logan glanced to her side and saw Molly and Tanna just a few feet away looking out at the river. Narmartë and Penlod were on her left and they were surrounded by Molly’s Red Guard and Penlod’s Clansmen.

“This is where it all started.” Narmartë said glancing at Logan and then at Molly. “This is where we met.”

“Fortunate for all of us that you did.” Penlod said reaching out to give Narmartë’s hand a squeeze.

“Yes, if it hadn’t been for Ilcaúrna and Sornohen Nevrast would have been lost.”

Logan agreed silently with Narmartë but she still felt too resentful at Molly’s decision to stay to respond. They had spent every night since Molly had explained that she was staying arguing about the decision until last night when Tanna had for the first time joined in. She’d pulled open the tent flap and silently moved to Molly’s side wrapping her arms around his waist and then looking back at Logan.

The silent feminine declaration of possession was one that Logan understood all the way to her bones and rather than continue the argument she’d left. Now Logan set her heels to her horse’s flanks and descended into the river. Crossing the stream was easy although finding a good place to climb the far bank proved a little more challenging. Once on the other side they started looking for the marks that Logan had left showing their back trail. It took a while since it had been several weeks and the knife cuts hadn’t been deep.

Yet Elven woodsmen-ship proved equal to the challenge as Tanna let out a shout. In a few seconds Logan was able to confirm she’d found the back trail. They spent the rest of that day following it. The thickness of the trees and underbrush prevented them from moving at speed through the woods. In fact they spent most of the day walking leading their horses. Toward twilight they found the clearing that had changed Logan and Molly’s tattoos.

Logan moved forward eager to examine the obelisk one more time only to discover that it was missing.

“What the hell? It’s gone.”

She exchanged a look with Molly as Narmartë came forward. “What’s gone?”

“There was an obelisk here. It was a good landmark. Maybe we’re not in the right location.”

“Your markings led us to this clearing. Could someone have moved it?” Tanna asked, moving to stand next to Molly.

Logan shook her head. “I doubt it. Based on its size it would have been very difficult to move.”

The guards quickly set up camp and even though the fire was cheery Logan moved to one side keeping away from the others as she stared out into the darkness.

‘What happened to the obelisk?’ she thought.

*It served its purpose and was recalled to Valinor.*

Logan was almost startled to hear Melchiresa’s voice. ‘How does one recall a two ton stone obelisk?’

At this Logan could hear Melchiresa laugh, *With great care.*

‘So what now? What happens to you when I return to my world?’

*When you step through the gate you will return to your world and I’ll return to Valinor.*

For the first time Logan felt sad at the thought of returning home. Melchiresa’s presence within her mind had become a welcome reassurance. Logan was never alone because Melchiresa was always with her. Even when Melchiresa had used her Logan was able to feel her intentions and she’d never wished to harm Logan. What would it be like to be alone within her own mind again?

The night passed quickly and they set out early the next day. It was still slow going but when Molly spotted the first webbing strung between the trees Logan felt reassured that they were on the right track. Yet even though they saw signs of the giant spiders they didn’t actually spot the monsters.

“I doubt that they have enough courage to confront a party as strong as ours.” Penlod said when Logan expressed her concern. Just before dusk Ronir spotted the ruined watch tower wall.

“We can open the gate tonight or we could camp here and open it at first light.” Molly said looking at Logan.

Suddenly, Logan didn’t want to spend any more time here. This world, everything that had happened to her, she just wanted to be done with it. To be back home in her own body, in her own apartment drinking a beer. Her intuition told her that she should leave now. Yet the idea of being separated from Melchiresa and leaving Molly behind made her hesitate. Even though she didn’t want to be a woman she’d gotten used to it. So much so that she no longer noticed the movement of breasts and hips. Even her time of the month, as disgusting as it was, didn’t seem that abnormal. Everything pretty much felt . . . normal . . . comfortable even, and that was what scared Logan the most.

“Let’s set up camp. There will be plenty of time in the morning to say good bye.” Logan said, mostly thinking about Melchiresa and what it would mean to be separated from her.

The Elves went to work setting up camp with their normal efficiency. By this time Logan had learned to stay out of their way. Instead she decided to take a look at the ruin. There was a part of her that just wanted to make sure that the arch was still there.

“My lady, where are you headed?”

Looking back Logan saw that Sir Ronir had followed her and she flashed him a smile. There was a part of her that was still attracted to him and she no longer tried to squish that part of her nature. It just seemed silly after her time with Turgon. Thinking of Turgon made Logan want to squirm as her groin became a little wet. The things he’d done to her in the heat of passion . . . Then she realized she was staring at Ronir and hadn’t answered him.

“I’m going to check out the gate. I’d like to make sure that everything is ready for tomorrow.

“Might I accompany you my Lady? I hear that the tower is infested with Ungoliantsén and even a lady of the Maiar needs someone to watch her back.”

Logan was tempted to say no, but then she reconsidered. It wasn’t that she thought she needed Ronir, she was sure that she could take care of any Giant Spiders that might come up. She just didn’t want to be alone. The trek up to the tower ruins in the semi-dark was easy enough. Elven night vision is pretty good and Logan had no trouble drawing upon Melchiresa’s power to help her see.

The walls were pretty much as Logan remembered them and jumping up was almost a natural movement after dealing with the lesser gravity for so long now. Then she was in the courtyard and for a moment she didn’t see the arch. Logan spun around and then she spotted it. The angle she’d come in over the wall was slightly off so the arch was to her left. Ronir landed next to her with a soft thud.

“Is that the gate?”

“Yeah,” Logan moved forward in the dim light trying to make sure she remembered each of the symbols and more importantly the one that would take her back to Earth.

“Do you know how it works?”

Logan nodded, “Yes. But you’ll see me use it tomorrow.”

“My lady.” Something in Ronir’s voice caused Logan to turn and look at him. “I . . . I wish you would consider changing your mind.”

“Changing my mind about what?”

“About leaving.” With that he stepped in closer and suddenly Logan was once again aware of how attractive he was. Even if he wasn’t Turgon, he was still very much a handsome male.

“This isn’t my world, Ronir. We came here and accomplished what we needed to and now we should return.”

“And yet, Sornohen remains.”

Logan shook her head, “He shouldn’t. He isn’t thinking properly. Tanna has him under a spell.”

At this Ronir stiffened, “You think Tanna is using the Song of Ainur to beguile Sornohen’s mind?”

Logan couldn’t help giggling and she shook her head. “No, Ronir, nothing so nefarious. Tanna is only using what every woman tries to use on her man. Her feminine charm has ensnared him.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad.” Ronir stepped even closer until only a few inches separated them and Logan was forced to look up. “I have been caught in a similar trap.”

Logan’s breath caught. She knew that Ronir had a thing for her. In fact she’d also felt an attraction but she hadn’t acted on it. She wasn’t ready for that kind of a relationship, she couldn’t just give herself to a man. Besides more than anything she wanted to get home.

Just then a horn blast ripped the night. It was immediately followed by the sound of thunder.

“That’s Sornohen’s spear!” Logan said.

“And my Lord Penlod’s horn!” Ronir added.

Without a word they both dashed for the camp.

Molly looked over just in time to see Logan slip off into the dark. She was accompanied by Sir Ronir and Molly smiled. It was pretty obvious that Ronir had a thing for Logan, even if Logan refused to admit it.

“And what is the cause of your good humor my lord?” Tanna asked running her hand along Molly’s neck. Molly leaned into her touch enjoying the sensation of Tanna’s soft hand.

“Oh, I saw Ilcaúrna and Ronir slip off into the night. I was just hoping that perhaps Ilcaúrna has noticed how he’s been looking at her. If this is her last night in this world she ought to enjoy it.”

Tanna shook her head, “Perhaps, but I think not. Ilcaúrna is set to return, I doubt very much if she will take a lover on her last night in Arda.”

Molly let out a sigh there was a part of her that wanted Logan to sleep with Ronir. It was a selfish part, because Molly had no intention of returning to his former body. He felt Kratos stirring and sensed his agreement. Why would any man, any warrior, if given the choice become female? For a second Molly felt a flash of irritation and a desire to defend his former gender but then he realized that he agreed with Kratos. He was stronger, more powerful than any other warrior and he had the love of a beautiful woman. Why would he want to change any of that?

Molly stood up and offered a hand to Tanna, “I see our tent is ready. Perhaps my lady can show me why staying in Arda is the proper choice?”

“I would love to my lord.” Tanna said, standing up and facing Molly.

Suddenly the head of a cross bow bolt appeared between Tanna’s breasts and as if in slow motion she lurched forward. Molly managed to catch her dropping to one knee as another bolt sped through the space where he’d just stood. For a second time seemed to stand still. Molly couldn’t understand what he was seeing. Tanna tried to struggle but the bolt was protruding from her back as well as her front. Then Molly noticed the fetid odor and a part of him knew it was a poison. Then the war cries of the Elves around him penetrated the fog in his brain.

Molly gently rested Tanna on her side and when he stood up he pulled upon the full power of Kratos bursting his clothes in the process. In an instant a fifteen foot tall warrior clothed in glowing armor and carrying a mighty trident moved toward the attackers. Out of the darkness came a swarm of vile creatures. Giant spiders, dark skinned Elves, half-spider half-Elven hybrids, and then the mighty biggest spider Molly had ever seen moved into the light. The beast was almost the size of an elephant!

Molly threw his trident at the creature but one of the hybrids jumped in the way taking the full force of the strike in the chest. The crack of thunder that followed it was joined by the sound of Elven war horns and then the battle was joined. Molly summoned his Gladius and cut down a pair of spiders the size of horses before he closed on the first dark Elf. With a part of his mind Molly noticed Penlod and Narmartë join the fight. Their individual power shining out into the darkness as they used the Song of Ainur to aid them in battle. Then he was past the dark Elves and there was nothing between him and the Giant-Spider.

His first attack was against one of the lead legs and even though his Gladius cut the chitin it didn’t cut it as deeply as Molly had expected. Then he had to leap back to avoid being caught by the spider. Despite its size the thing moved with better agility than Molly thought possible. Again and again Molly struck and leapt away and each time the monster’s hide turned his blade.

In a fury Molly hacked at the beast but this time he was too slow jumping aside and a mighty claw tipped leg struck his shield. Molly’s legs buckled under the force of the blow and the claw actually penetrated the shield cutting Molly’s shoulder. Then the creature pulled back and the shield was ripped away and Molly felt the bones in his shoulder break.

“Aghhhh!”

Despair closed in. Tanna was dead and this foul creature was about to end him. Molly looked up waiting for death to come as the monster reared back. Then out of the night fire fell upon the beast. For a second the heat was so intense that Molly had to throw up a hand to protect his face and his mind refused to understand what had happened. Then the spider’s bellow of pain shook the ground and Molly felt it stager back.

Molly stood up and rage filled him and he summoned Griffin. The change happened in an instant and Molly felt and saw the flow of power around him. Logan was in the sky using wind and fire to attack the Child-of-Ungoliant and it looked like the creature couldn’t stand fire. Griffin was no beast of flame, but he was a creature of magic and power. With a snap of his wings he was airborne and then with a second snap he was moving around behind the monster.

The creature gestured and spinnerets launched a web up at Logan but she dodged it easily. This gave Molly the perfect opening and he struck. The full force of his weight and magically enhanced strength added by his dive caused his talons sink into the beasts back piercing its chitin and then Molly struck with his beak going for the place where the head attached to the thorax. Then with a snap of his wings Molly was once more in the air as the creature spun around screaming yet again. Only this time instead of throwing out webs with its spinnerets it threw out darkness.

Clouds of inky black billowed out filling the night blinding most creatures. Yet the eyes of the Maiar are not most eyes. Logan continued to blast the night as she circled above and then Molly dove in again. This time the strike was perfectly timed with Logan’s last blast and Molly used his hind claws to destroy the spiders’ eyes.

The howl of agony was music to Molly’s ears and he turned as tightly as he could to attack again. This time as he dropped to strike Logan came in as well and she was wielding a long sword with a blade that undulated like a Kris. The creature spun around blindly but it did no good. Molly struck the thorax and his talons cut through its hide with ease. Then Logan hacked into its neck with her long sword and an instant later the beast’s head rolled free.

Molly leapt into the air screaming his defiance of all the fell creatures of the dark. He turned and saw that the dark Elves and their spiders were falling back. This wasn’t enough for Molly. No, not after what they’d taken from him. He dove after them killing every creature he could find.

Current Situation:

Nevrast has been saved and the remaining Elves are migrating to Tumladen. Molly and Logan have traveled with their friends to the ruined watch tower and the Gate. Then tragedy struck when the giant spiders attacked the small group catching them by surprise. With Molly’s reason for staying in Arda gone will he return to Earth?

Author Note:

1: This story is based on the Altered Fates Universe concept established by Jennifer Adams, however I’ve taken some artistic liberties so this story doesn’t strictly adhere to the rules Jennifer established.

2: This is also a fanfic of the J.R.R. Tolkien world of Middle Earth in an untold tale of the First Age. Please note; I didn’t stay completely true to the Middle Earth that Tolkien set up. This is my take on what Middle Earth in the First Age might have been like.

Molly stood next to Logan as she finished chanting the words that activated the gate. They were both in their human forms and for a brief instant Logan considered shifting into Melchiresa as a tribute before stepping through the gate. Then she dismissed the idea and reached out and touched the symbol representing Earth with her bleeding hand. The gate activated and suddenly the air within the arch became hazy. Molly felt numb as Logan handed him the knife. Nothing mattered. Tanna was dead. Half the Elves who’d accompanied him were dead including Ronir. Penlod and Narmartë looked on, sorrow plain on their clear Elven faces. Both were wounded.

The attack had almost cost all of them their lives. Molly couldn’t believe it still. A part of him refused to accept that Tanna was dead. But there was no mistaking it. He’d held her cold still body until the sun rose and then laid her gently next to the bodies of the other fallen. Then he’d found Logan and told her that he was ready to return. There was no way that Molly wanted to stay in this world. Every second was now a reminder to him of what he’d lost.

“My Lord, you can yet change your mind. You have earned a place of honor among us.” Narmartë’s words were of little comfort to Molly and he shook his head.

“Nay. I thank you, my lady, but every moment I tarry reminds me of her. I don’t belong to this world and now I must return.”

With that Molly made a shallow cut on his palm and pressed it into the same symbol Logan had activated a moment ago.

Logan nodded to Molly and then turned to face the remaining Elves.

“It has been an honor to fight by you. Be well.” Logan said.

There was a murmur among them and then Narmartë stepped forward to hug Logan.

“The honor was ours. You are like a sister to me. I will miss you all the remaining days of my life. Perhaps we will meet again in Valinor.”

“Perhaps,” Logan said and turned to the gate. ‘I’m going to miss you Melchiresa!’

*And I you. But know this, the time that your souls where joined has changed both of us. I will carry a part of you with me into Valinor.*

Logan waved at the gathered Elves and stepped through the gate with a whisper, “And I you.”

Logan vanished and Narmartë turned one more time to face Molly and took a small step forward as if to offer a hug. Molly lifted a hand stopping her.

“For me, the light and joy of Arda has fled. I too must leave.”

Tears were streaming openly down Molly’s strong masculine face and he moved to step through the gate and then paused.

“We have no use for this,” Molly turned and extended the stone knife to Narmartë. “If you have need of us, use the knife and gate and find us.”

Narmartë accepted it and then glanced into Molly’s face. “The need would have to be very great for us to risk this place again.” Then she reached up and brushed a tear back. “And I have no desire to cause you more pain.”

Molly caught Narmartë’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I must go.” With that he stepped through the gate and vanished.

There was a moment of dizziness and Logan stumbled and then her foot found solid ground. The floor was covered in ruble and Logan stumbled trying to catch her balance. The darkness was almost absolute and without thinking Logan called upon her power hoping to improve her vision. Instantly things swam into focus. That fact alone stunned Logan.

‘Melchiresa?’ Logan thought searching the vault of her mind. She was met with silence. Yet even in the silence Logan found power. Not the full energy she’d know when bonded to Melchiresa. In fact if Logan had to guess she’d have said she was at about half her former power. ‘How is this possible?’ she wondered, yet she didn’t have the time to puzzle it out as her gaze swept the ruined room. The only item in the vault that had survived the breaching charge was the arch. The hole next to the vault door was jagged but easily big enough to climb through. Strangely it wasn’t big enough to move the arch through. This made Logan wonder how they planned to move the damn thing. Then there was a noise and Logan turned to see Molly stumble through the gate.

It was almost comical to watch him move blindly for a second before reaching for his power. The surprise on Molly’s masculine face caused Logan to giggle.

“I know, right?”

“How is it that we still have our powers?”

Sobering a little Logan said, “I wish I knew. Come on.”

With that they climbed through the hole in the wall and found themselves in the trophy room. The cases were smashed and most of the objects collected by Richard Falk were missing. Molly, much to Logan’s annoyance, took the lead. Their gear had been retrieved from Lindornëa and they’d changed this morning into normal clothes. They even had the guns they’d taken from the terrorists although they were both out of ammo. For a minute Logan hoped to spot a dropped mag or two but no such luck.

Molly moved cautiously into the hallway and Logan followed. It was just as dark here but with their ability to see in the dark this wasn’t much of an obstacle. Molly moved with long familiarity down the hallway and Logan followed feeling a sense of déjà vu like she ought to be familiar with all of this. Then it occurred to her that these were some of the memories that she’d inherited through the medallion from Molly.

At the end of the hallway they found the steps that led to the ground floor. At the door they also found a line of police tape.

“Do you think it counts as crossing a police line if we’re trying to get out?” Molly whispered.

Logan punched him in the shoulder happy that Molly could see the humor in this. “Let’s just move.” Then she paused, “How much time do you think has passed?”

Molly shook his head, “I have no idea. I can only say that time seemed to flow faster when Dad and I explored Arda than it does here.”

Molly moved forward and Logan followed behind looking around as she went. She could see signs that repairs had been started here. So this meant that at least a few days had passed. Yet the house felt strangely empty. Normally there was a live-in staff and security twenty four seven.

Now on the main floor Logan looked at Molly, “Now what?”

“Come on, if Richard is here he’ll be in the master bedroom.”

Feeling a little uneasy Logan followed Molly through the empty house and up into the family wing. Once on the second floor Molly led them down to the end of the wing. Richard Falk’s master bedroom suite took up the entire end of the hall. As they approached Logan suddenly stopped.

“Let me have the Key.”

A little reluctantly Molly answered, “I don’t have it.”

“What?”

“I left it with Narmartë. I told her that if they ever needed us they could use it to come here.”

Logan sighed, “I guess that’s for the best. Without it no one from our world can use the gate.”

Without another word Molly set off moving to the end of the hallway and then he turned to Logan. “Ready?”

“Sure.”

“Do you want to knock or shall I?”

Logan shrugged, “You’re his daughter.”

“I don’t look like it at the moment.” Then with a nod, “Fine, I’ll do it. Just don’t be surprised if he shoots me.”

Molly knocked on the door, “Mr. Falk?”

Logan was puzzled by this and then realized that Richard didn’t know her former voice well enough to identify it. It was better to use a term of address that wouldn’t alarm him.

“Mr. FALK?” This time Molly knocked louder, “RICHARD?!”

There was movement from within the room and then a light flickered on under the door.

“Who is it?”

Molly looked at Logan and motioned for her to move forward. With a sigh Logan stepped up.

“It’s Molly and Logan. We’re back.”

There was the sound of hurried movement behind the door and then it jerked open causing both Logan and Molly to stand there blinking. Richard Falk stood there staring at them fumbling with his bathrobe tie and then he rushed forward sweeping Logan into a hug.

“Molly! I’m so glad you’re safe! I was so worried about you.”

For a second Logan couldn’t react. Feeling stunned she slowly reached up to awkwardly pat Richard on the back.

“Um, it’s okay, Daddy. We’re back now.”

At this Richard released Logan and turned to Molly and extended his hand. “I can’t thank you enough Logan. You kept my baby safe!”

Molly reached out and traded grips with Richard and then the older man turned to look at Logan again. “Come, I’ve got a good bottle of Scotch in my study. I insist you tell me what happened and how you managed to return safe and sound, in the middle of the night no less!”

As he led the way back down the hallway Molly and Logan exchanged confused glances. What was going on?

Logan knew where the study was and had to fight the urge to hold back so she could talk with Molly. In a few seconds Richard threw open a heavy wooden door and turned on a light switch. Several lamps around the room came to life bathing the space in a warm yellow glow.

“Please, Logan, have a seat.”

Richard had moved to a small table and was pouring an amber fluid into three crystal glasses. Then he turned around and handed one to Logan and one to Molly before taking up the third glass.

“To safe returns!” He said and held out his glass. “Safe returns.” Molly and Logan mumbled and then drank. Logan couldn’t help sputtering as the smooth whiskey burned.

“Come sit by me Molly. I just want to look at you. I’ve been so worried. You’ve been gone for three days!” As he said this, Richard moved to the leather sofa pulling Logan along with him.

“Only three days?!” Molly exclaimed and then settled into a brown leather chair.

Richard cocked his head and then nodded. “Yes, what do you mean, only?”

“He means we went through the gate and to us we’ve been gone for well over a month.” Logan said trying to keep her voice steady.

“Oh . . .” Then Richard reached out to grip Logan’s soft arm. “Tell me everything.”

After a moment’s hesitation Logan lifted her glass and finished the whiskey and then nodded. “This is a long story so I’ll just give you the highlights.” With that she launched explaining the ruined tower, the attack of the giant spiders, and their meeting the Elves. By the time she was explaining about the attack on Lindornëa Logan noticed she was slurring her words.

“Is it hot in here?” Logan asked feeling sweat bead up on her forehead and looked over to see that Molly had fallen asleep in his chair. She tried to speak but for some reason she couldn’t get her mouth to work properly. Then her glass slipped out of numb fingers to crash onto the hard wood floor shattering into a thousand pieces.

Logan felt her body tilt sideways and saw Richard stand up, a wide grin splitting his face.

“Yes, Molly, I added something to your drink. The drug won’t hurt you but you’re going to be sleeping for a while.”

Then darkness closed in and Logan knew no more.

“Ughhh . . .” Logan wasn’t sure if it was the pounding in her head or the ache in her back from the hard surface she was on that hurt worse. ‘Where am I,’ she wondered. The room was dark and when she tried to roll onto her side as she felt something around her neck.

“Woof!”

Logan lifted her head and pushed herself into a sitting position. Then she focused on bringing up her night vision. As she did she realized that she was only wearing panties and a bra. No wonder she was cold!

“Woof . . . woof”

The urgent barking caused her to look to her right and there in an iron kennel was a mangy look mutt of a dog. Its fur was matted and Logan could see the blood on its muzzle.

“You’re awake.”

Logan turned and directly across from her she spotted Molly sitting on a blanket with his back against the opposite wall. He’d been stripped down to a set of boxers but the cold didn’t seem to be bothering him.

“Where are we?”

Molly shook his head and brought his cuffed hands to his lips to indicate caution. “Well, MOLLY, I would think you’d recognize this place. This is the store room behind the kitchen.”

Logan nodded and remembered the events from before and the fact that Molly was calling her ‘Molly’ was telling. Logan brought her hands up and realized that unlike Molly her hands weren’t handcuffed. She used one finger to touch her ear and Molly nodded. He was using his ability to see in the dark and he obviously thought that someone was listening in on them.

“My father drugged us? Why would he do that?”

At this the dog started whimpering. Logan glanced at the dog and stood up. For a second she had to fight for her balance and when she reached out to the wall for support she found the chain. Logan grabbed the stainless steel chain and realized that it ran from the collar around her neck to a grommet set into the concrete floor not far from the blanket she’d been laying on.

“I’ve got one too.”

Logan glanced over at Molly and saw that he too was chained in place.

“What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know, but can you reach the bucket?” Molly pointed to a pail that was closer to Logan by the kennel.

Logan moved to the end of her chain and found that the bucket was just in reach. As she grabbed it the dog moved to the edge of the kennel and wagged its tail as it looked at her. Molly shook her head, “You’re a friendly fella.” She carried the bucket over to Molly and discovered that she and Molly had just enough chain to exchange the bucket, if she stretched. As soon as Molly had it he sat it on the floor to one side of the blanket he was using as a mat and pulled out his large cock and cut loose with a heavy stream of urine.

Logan glanced away, suddenly embarrassed at watching Molly pee. Then she took a quick peek and realized that Molly’s penis captivated her. ‘What does it feel like to have one?’ she wondered and then the strangeness of the thought struck her. Was she now so far gone into femininity that she no longer remembered what it felt like to use her own penis to take a piss?

Almost in a panic Logan closed her eyes and tried to remember things from her life as a man. Basic training, BUD/S, and her time on the Teams, the memories were there but they’d somehow faded; almost like they’d happened to someone else. Then Logan thought about Molly and the memories came to her sluggishly. Learning to ride a horse and Shooting trap with her dad, and playing volleyball. These memories were fainter than her memories of being Logan but if she focused on then she could find them. ‘What is wrong with me?’ she wondered, ‘am I losing my mind?’

“Ah, noth’n like a good piss.”

Logan glanced back in time to see Molly tuck his man-meat back into his boxers. Then Molly caught Logan’s eye and smirked.

“It sure is nice to take a piss standing up.”

“Shut up.”

At this Logan sat back down tucking her legs under her and took the chain in her hands. Logan closed her eyes and concentrated. Melchiresa was a Maiar and the Daughter of the Morning-Star, whatever that meant. But she was also the mistress of Air, Fire, and Metal. Logan focused on the metal and could feel the power within her touch it. For several seconds she stroked the chain feeling her power move through it. Then the door burst open.

Richard Falk moved into the cell carrying a bag in one hand and flipped on a light switch with the other. Logan had to blink against the bright light.

“Daddy, what . . . are you doing? What’s going on?” Logan tried to put as much fear into her voice as she could but she’d always been a terrible actor.

Richard sat the bag down and there was a heavy sounding clink of metal. Then he looked at Molly and grinned, a creepy sort of grin.

“You are looking really hot, Molly. Have you ever thought of doing it with daddy?”

“What?! No!” Logan scooted back and tried to cover as much of her exposed flesh as she could.

Richard laughed. “Why so shy?”

“You are not my father!” Logan said, suddenly sure.

At this the smile faded from Richard’s face and for a second he looked confused. Then he turned to Molly, “Hi, Logan. Don’t you recognize your old pal Owen?”

“What?”

At this Molly surged to his feet and glared at the false Richard. “No fucking way! How is this possible?”

“An interesting story. But first a small demonstration is in order.”

With that Owen pulled another chain and collar from the bag and fitted it to a third grommet. Then he put on a set of gloves and took a plastic bag from his pocket. He went over to the kennel and opened it.

The mutt cringed back away from Owen and made a whimpering sound but Owen grabbed it roughly by the scruff of its neck and lifted the poor animal out. The dog whimpered as he carried it over to the chain and collar.

“What are you going to do with the dog, you bastard?” Molly said, sounding furious.

“Poor, thing. If you hurt it I’ll kill you.” Logan added in her sweet tones.

Owen glanced over at Logan and laughed, “Such a temper for such a beautiful little thing. Watch and learn or you might find yourself running around on paws.”

The collar that Owen snapped around the dog’s neck was way too big but then he pulled out a medallion from the plastic bag and put it on the dog. Logan’s breath caught. She recognized that necklace from the night she’d become Molly! Then he reached into another pocket and drew out a small scrap of cloth and pressed it to the medallion.

The dog yelped and then whimpered in response. Owen quickly returned the medallion to its plastic bag and dropped the cloth in front of the dog.

“What are you doing to that dog?”

Molly had moved forward and Logan could tell that he was ready to use his power if he needed to.

“Hehehe, watch and learn Logan.” Owen held up the plastic bag now containing the medallion, “With this I get to decide who becomes what. And brother, I’ve got plans for you! I think you’ll look real nice with a pair of tits.”

“Look!” Logan said and Molly looked at the dog. Most of its fur had been pulled into its body and it was growing rapidly. The poor thing couldn’t have been more than twenty pounds to start with so the weight gain was rapid. Its skin was getting lighter and lighter and it slowly took on a human shape. Then it sat up and Logan saw it reach up with hands to touch its’ now human mouth.

“Woo- -goddd. Damn you!”

The transformation of the voice from dog to high pitched human was a strange twist that made Logan want to vomit.

“Watch it or the next time you piss me off, you’ll be a fish!”

“Ughhh . . .”

The former dog moved its new hand from its face to run it through its new raven locks. Then as the hair continued to cascade down its back the former dog stood up and Logan saw that it was clearly a she. The girl was a tiny thing and a pair of small firm breasts blossomed on her chest. She glanced down and then up at the much taller Owen.

“What are you . . . no who are you turning me into?”

“I did you a favor! You didn’t like being your daughter so I spent some time and got this new look for you. I’ve always Japanese girls were hot!”

The words slowly penetrated Molly’s brain and he whispered softly, “Daddy?”

By now the change had stopped and what had once been small high breasts were full blown tits and on such a petite girl they looked disproportionately large. For a second Logan wondered how the girl managed not to fall over.

“See, now when we have sex you can’t complain about incest.”

“How about rape!” Logan snarled. “There is no way R-Daddy, had sex in my body with you willingly!”

Owen grinned over at Logan, “True. But now I’ve got the real you, plus an Asian beauty and soon I’ll have a sexy little blonde to go with you two!”

“You know you’ll never get away with this?” Molly stated in an icy tone.

Owen shook his head. “I don’t need to be Richard for very long. Just long enough for one of you three to tell me how the gate works.” He patted the pocket holding the medallion, “With this and a few of the artifacts I’ve discovered in Richard’s collection, and a new world? I’ll be whoever I want and do anything I want.”

With that he picked up the now empty bag that had held the chain and collar Richard was now wearing.

“I’ll leave you three to talk. But know this. I’ll have the secret from one of you. Sooner or later, and who or what you are when I’m done will depend on how helpful you are!”

With that he left the room leaving the light on. For several seconds the three of them just looked at each other.

Current Situation:

Having returned to earth Molly and Logan are taken by surprise and betrayed. Now captured their bodies and identities are threatened by a villain who has unlocked the secrets of the Medallion.

Author Note:

1: This story is based on the Altered Fates Universe concept established by Jennifer Adams, however I’ve taken some artistic liberties so this story doesn’t strictly adhere to the rules Jennifer established.

2: This is also a fanfic of the J.R.R. Tolkien world of Middle Earth in an untold tale of the First Age. Please note; I didn’t stay completely true to the Middle Earth that Tolkien set up. This is my take on what Middle Earth in the First Age might have been like.

3: I want to send a big thank you to Eric and Shizuma for beta reading, proofreading, and offering plot ideas! I also need to thank Mr. 20” Biceps for thoroughly reading and proofreading each draft, for giving me sound advice, and telling me to get back to writing as I can sometimes become distracted with other things. This story is much better because of their efforts!

“Richard?” Logan asked.

For a second the busty woman just stared at Logan and then she nodded. When she did Logan realized she was very young, maybe sixteen or seventeen.

“Are y-you,” before she could finish Molly interrupted. “Yes, it’s us. You hired me to take care of Molly and I kept the promise I made to you on your back patio.”

For a second the girl looked confused and Logan reached up to tap her finger to her ear. Richard saw it and nodded.

“O-oh. Okay.”

“Can you tell us what happened to you during the attack?”

Richard looked down at the panties lying on the floor. With a sigh she picked them up and stepped into them. Then she moved over to the Kennel and reached inside to pull out the blanket the dog had been using. She quickly folded it and settled cross-legged onto it.

“He could have at least left me a bra or a t-shirt.” she muttered before looking at Molly and Logan. “I heard the alarm go off. It woke me out of a deep sleep. My first thought was to get to you two and head to the panic-room on the second floor. Only you were both already gone.”

“We went out for an early morning run.” Molly whispered.

“Oh, yeah, that sounds like you two. Well, I got to the panic-room and sealed myself in. Most of the power was cut and my cell had no reception once in the room. But I don’t think Owen or the terrorists knew about the emergency alarm set up with its own land line from the panic-room directly to the Firm. I activated it and waited. I watched the video monitors set up in the panic-room as the terrorists killed everyone.”

At this she shook her head and a tear leaked down her face. After a couple of seconds she glanced back at Logan and Molly and shook her head. “Then I saw the two of you. The way you were able to cut the terrorists down, it was amazing. I saw you two seal yourselves in the vault and then I saw that bastard Owen blow the wall. I thought you were both dead.” Richard looked down and wrapped her arms around her breasts holding herself tight. “God these things still feel so weird.”

“Weirder than being a dog?” Molly asked.

“No, but when I was a dog, there were a lot of things I didn’t understand. I think the magic of the medallion turned my brain into a dog’s brain.”

“That makes sense,” Logan said and then at a sharp look from Molly added. “At least based on what I saw it do to you.”

“Anyway Owen must have known about the panic-room because shortly after he blew the vault my video feeds died. It must have been a couple of hours later when the door opened up and I found myself looking at . . . myself.”

“What?” Molly exclaimed.

Richard nodded. “Yeah, I’d left the medallion in the wall safe in my bedroom. Owen got it and recognized it. He told me later that he saw a SWAT team arrive and knew they couldn’t win. So he used it to change into a clone of me. He caught me off guard and before I knew it I felt a tingle.” Richard looked at Molly and said, “He’d found one of your Easter dresses from when you were about three. I-it was only a matter of minutes before I found out what it’s like to be a little girl.” Richard shook her head. “I haven’t had a cock since that day.”

“Oh, d-Richard, I’m so sorry.” Molly said, and tried to reach out to her but the chain wasn’t long enough.

“Yeah, well, being a girl isn’t all bad.” Logan asserted.

Richard looked back and forth between Molly and Logan and sighed, “I guess I shouldn’t complain. Anyway he left me in the panic-room and I was too small to work the controls to get out. I don’t know how long I was there, most of the day I think. By the time he came and got me the police were gone and the Firm had sent over more guards. He locked me in here, but gave me a few blankets. Once enough time had passed he came in and ordered me to put the medallion on and then a top.” Looking at Molly Richard said, “It was your cheerleading uniform from high school.”

“Oh.”

“Then he r-raped me.”

“Oh, god. I’m so sorry.” Molly said. “That’s awful,” Logan added simultaneously.

Richard nodded, “I-I tried to fight. I told him it was wrong on so many levels but he didn’t care. He’d done something to his body, too. He must have found a set of my clothes from when I was in my twenties. He used that plus the hat I’d worn the day before at the same time. From the neck up he looks just like me, but from the neck down he’s a younger version of me.” Richard shook her head and in a numb voice continued. “He also figured out that he could use a brand new jock, with a much larger cup to increase his size. Because the next time he used me he must have had a nine inch dick.” She looked at Molly and Logan, “But you’ll see that for yourselves soon enough, unless you can show him how to use the Gate. I tried but without the key it was useless.”

“How did you end up a dog?” Logan asked.

Richard stared numbly into the floor and then started shaking. “I disobeyed.” Her voice was a whisper, “You can’t disobey. Oh, God, I can’t be a dog again.” She looked at Molly, “You’ve got the Key, right? Let’s just give it to him. He’ll leave and it will all be over.”

“We don’t have the Key.” Molly said. “We left it on the other side.”

For a second Richard sat still and then tears started leaking down her cheeks. Soon she was sobbing and gasping for air, “The master is going to be very angry. Good girls do what they’re told. Good girls keep the master happy.”

Logan and Molly exchanged looks. Horror turned to anger and anger turned to rage.

The door boomed open and a tall athletic looking Richard Falk strode in carrying a small sack. “So bitches, are you ready to talk?” The smile turned to a snarl when Owen saw Richard, “What makes you think you get to cover up?!”

Richard quickly took the blanket that Molly had tossed to her and dropped it from her shoulders exposing her naked breasts. “I-I’m sorry, master.”

Owen moved forward until he was in the middle of the room and glared down at Richard, “I thought you’d learned your lesson about obedience. Well, I’ve got a few new ideas that might get the point across.”

“Leave her alone!” Molly snarled standing up and moving toward Owen. Then the chain on his collar snapped taunt stopping him just short of his target.

“Ha! Do you think I’m a fool Logan?” Owen turned to look at Molly. “I’ve not forgotten the last time we sparred at the Firm gym. You were pretty proud of the beat down you gave me. Well, I’ve got something very special for you my old friend.”

With that he pulled out the medallion and tossed it to Molly. Molly reacted quickly twisting away so that the necklace didn’t touch him. Instead, it hit the wall and bounced to the floor at Molly’s feet.

“I’m not touching that thing!”

“Oh, I think you’ll put it on.” Owen pulled out a gun and pointed it at Molly.

“If you kill me, you won’t get what you want.”

“True, but I don’t have to kill you. I could just shoot you a bit and then after you pass out from blood loss put the medallion on you. When the magic changes you it’ll also heal you.” Then Owen chuckled, “In fact I’d almost rather do it that way. Last chance, this will either be easy or hard.”

For a second Molly just glared at Owen and then he reached down picked up the necklace and put it on.

“Now what?”

Owen reached into the cargo pocket of the khaki pants he was wearing and pulled out a pair of black panties. “Time for a change, touch these to the medallion.” With that he tossed the panties at Molly.

“And if I refuse?”

Owen shook his head, “Fuck it.”

“CRACK!”

The report of the 9mm was loud enough to make Logan and Richard jump.

“Aaghhhh . . .” Molly fell forward grabbing his left leg as blood poured from the wound.

“I can keep on shooting you or you can pick up those panties and tie them to the medallion!”

“You bastard!” Logan said, now on her feet.

Owen looked back over his shoulder at Logan, “I’ll deal with you later sweetheart,” and then turned away dismissing her. Molly glared up at Owen after a second Owen shrugged and lifted his gun again. “The other leg?”

“Bitch, I’m gonna kill you!” Molly snarled and then reached out and picked up the panties with blood covered fingers and wrapped them around the medallion.

"Excellent.” Owen said staring down at Molly as his hair started to change color. He was so focused on Molly’s transformation that he failed to hear the soft snapping sound as Logan broke the chain holding her at the grommet. With a snap of her wrist Logan sent four feet of chain spinning through the air. It snaked around Owen’s gun arm and Logan jerked hard.

The gun spun away and Owen was pulled around in time to see Logan bring the chain around her head for another strike. Logan swung the chain for Owen’s head but he ducked the swing and drove a right-cross into Logan’s gut folding her over.

“Bitch, I don’t know how you got free but you’re going to pay for that!”

Owen raised his left hand to bring a hammer strike down on the back of Logan’s head. But Logan lurched forward and used her momentum to turn it into a front shoulder roll putting some distance between her and Owen.

Owen closed on Logan quickly and tried to drive a front stomp kick into Logan’s chest. Logan twisted and side-stepped the attack and hit Owen with a left cross into his floating ribs.

“Ugh,” Owen staggered back, “that hurt. You’re stronger than you look.”

Logan didn’t bother to answer instead she reached for her power and felt the tattoo on her back burn. She snapped a round-house kick that Owen blocked but he staggered back under the power of the blow. Logan spun around allowing the chain to whip out and Owen ducked it but the chain smashed into the wall knocking chunks of pulverized brick to the floor.

“What the fuck!” Owen gasped out and then pulled a pair of knives from his waist band. “What are you?”

Logan felt her body trying to morph and forced the change back down. ‘I don’t want him to know the full extent of my power,’ she thought. “What haven’t you ever seen a girl kick ass before?”

Owen shook his head, “For a second I thought your eyes were glowing. You’ve got some artifact that your using don’t you?!”

Then he lunged forward with his left-handed knife, Logan slid back knowing that Owen liked to lead with a faint. Just as she thought he came in with an over-hand blow. Twisting the chain between both hands Logan caught the descending knife strike with the chain and spun around in a circle. As she did she got her hip under Owen and brought both of her arms down. The hip throw caught Owen off guard and he landed hard on his back.

Before Logan could take advantage of it Owen slashed at her with his remaining knife. Logan lurched backward feeling the burn of a cut on her arm and she reflexively dropped the chain. Then Owen was on his feet.

“Bitch, you fight just like Logan. He’s obviously been training you. But it won’t be enough.” As he said this he turned his body sideways the knife in his lead hand. “I’m going to hurt you and then I’m going to fuck you.” As he spoke he moved to Logan’s right trying to circle her.

Logan moved with him staying out of reach ready to react her every sense hyper alert as she pulled more power into her. It flowed from the tattoo on her back and Logan could feel her skin start to change her bones shifting and she knew in that instant if she drew any more power she’d trigger the full change and become a copy of Melchiresa.

Owen started to lunge, “CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!”

In slow motion Logan watched as three red spots appeared on Owen’s chest. Then he crumbled to the ground next to his forgotten bag as his knife tumbled from a now limp hand. Logan spun around and saw Richard standing with her legs spread apart holding Owen’s gun in a shaky hand.

“Richard?”

At the sound of Logan’s voice Richard blinked and looked at her, and then lowered the gun. “Molly?”

Logan shook her head, “No, I’m Logan, don’t you remember?” Logan moved toward Richard as she stared in horror at Logan.

“What have I done?”

“Richard, you did what you needed to do. It’s okay.”

The gun fell from her hand to clatter on the floor and then Richard collapsed into Logan’s arms as sobs wracked her small frame. For a second Logan held Richard awkwardly and then she released the power she’d been holding and started to stroke Richard’s hair.

“It’ll be okay. We’re back. He’s gone and we’ve got the medallion.” As she spoke Logan couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder at Molly. He was on the floor and writhing around as if in pain. He now had long blonde hair and a cute girl next door face. But the changes hadn’t stopped there. Her skin had turned a pale creamy color and breasts had started to blossom from her chest.

Then Logan spotted the tattoo on Molly’s arm. The trident was glowing brightly. “Ahhhh . . .” Molly’s moan wasn’t that loud but he rolled over and Logan saw the other two tattoos were glowing as well. Then Molly reached up and pulled the necklace off and let it fall to one side. His whole body rippled and convulsed.

“What’s wrong with him?” Richard whispered.

“I think the magic of the Maiar that we now carry is clashing with the magic of the medallion.”

Then before Logan could say anything else pain exploded in the back of her head and she was sent flying forward. For a second she was too stunned to move and this almost cost her life. Pain exploded in her ribs as a vicious kick lifted her and bounced her off the nearest wall and then the power of Melchiresa flooded into her and her body shifted. In less than a second she roared to her feet wings spreading wide behind her and she caught the massive gauntlet covered hand with both of hers as it descended. The weight of the blow was almost too much and then Logan lashed out with a front snap kick that took her opponent in the chin and caused him to stagger back.

Gasping for breath Logan got her first good look at her foe and saw that it was Richard or rather Owen still wearing Richards body, but it had been altered. He was now wearing a pair of gauntlets that glowed a fierce red. However, the glow didn’t stop with the gauntlets. It had flowed up covering Owen’s body and it had changed him. He’d grown taller and wider splitting his clothes and Logan noticed that the bullet holes were gone from his now naked chest.

“Do you like the new look, bitch?!”

Owen’s voice echoed with a weird quality and then before Logan could answer Owen lunged forward slamming an open hand palm strike into her chest. The world went red and Logan felt her back hit the wall and the wall gave in and she found herself sliding across the lawn behind the house. Above, Logan could just make out the rising moon and she blinked. Her whole body ached and she knew that she’d broken a few ribs.

Logan pushed herself into a sitting position in time to see Owen climb out the hole in the wall. He was too big for the hole and he used his gauntlet covered hands to enlarge it even as he came through. Logan climbed to her feet and felt her broken right wing hanging limply. Rage flooded Logan and she reached for the well of power that was Melchiresa et Maiar. There was less power in her core than Logan was used to yet she drew on all of it.

She felt it race through her body healing her in a ripple of magic and then she felt the hilt of her Kris in her right and the glowing sphere of power cover her left even as the corset, leather pants, and boots materialized around her. Owen had just finished climbing out of the house when Logan extended her left hand, a blast of fire lashed out. Somehow Owen got his gauntlet covered hands up in an x-block and the fire splashed against a barely visible dome of red energy.

“Who are you?”

Owen’s voice still held that weird quality and Logan noticed that she could now look directly into his eyes. They were both larger than a normal human but Logan knew that she wasn’t nearly as tall as she’d been the last time she’d assumed her full Maiar form.

“I’ve been called many things. Molly Falk, Ilcaúrna et Maiar, Melchiresa Daughter of the Morning Star, Mistress of Air, Fire, and Metal, but my true name is Logan Campbell!”

For a second Owen blinked and his face shifted into something more human and then a sneer replaced it as he laughed.

“Perhaps you were once Logan Campbell, but you have moved beyond your mortal existence. I don’t recognize your name, but I can feel another immortal. I must thank you. If not for your actions this mortal would never have dared to free me. So know this Melchiresa, I am Pallas, Scion of Battle.”

Then Owen straightened up and gestured to Logan with an outstretched hand.

“There is no reason for us to fight. Few of our kind are free to walk upon this world. Come with me and together we can rule these simple mortals.”

Logan shook her head. “I’ve no wish to rule anyone and the mortal whose body you’ve taken has caused me and those I care for grievous harm.”

A vicious grin split Pallas face and he slammed his gauntlet covered hands together and red power flowed over his body. Logan blinked and when her vision cleared Pallas was covered in armor and held a mighty two-handed long sword in his hands.

“Then let us fight! For I will not give up this mortal’s body now that I’m free!”

Logan lashed out with her will and a tight beam of fire blasted forward only to splash up against Pallas sword. Then he raced forward and Logan snapped her wings taking to the air to avoid a sweeping sword cut. Logan struck next with a fist of hardened air yet somehow Pallas sensed it and blocked it with his sword. Then he pointed his sword up at Logan and she felt some force grab her and when Pallas made a slashing motion with the blade the force threw Logan toward the ground. Somehow she was able to pull in enough air to catch herself before she was smashed flat.

In desperation Logan sent another blast of fire at Pallas and then threw her Kris. Pallas blocked the fire and the Kris hit his armored thigh sinking all the way to the hilt.

“Argh!”

Pallas’ cry echoed around the estate and several windows on this side of the house shattered. Then Logan held out her hand and the Kris flew back to her. As it flew through the air it changed, growing to the size of a short sword by the time it smacked into her palm.

“Give up now and I’ll see what I can do to send you to another realm.”

Rather than answer Pallas slammed his sword into the ground and it buckled and moved in an undulating wave that raced toward Logan. Logan snapped her wings down expecting to escape into the air except some force held her to the ground. Then the power hit and Logan’s whole body exploded in pain as she was tossed to one side. For a second nothing mattered except the pain roaring through her body and then Logan was looking up at Pallas.

He stood over her with his sword point extended so that it was touching her throat.

“You have fought valiantly. But I am a Lord of Battle. Yield, and I will let you live.”

Logan opened her mouth to respond when a crack of thunder shook the air and Pallas was hurled to one side as a trident made of lightning hit him.

“You aren’t the only Lord of Battle to walk the land, Pallas!”

Logan saw Molly moving forward in full Kratos guise. He must have been ten feet tall covered in glowing armor. Pallas snarled something and leapt forward and the sound of his sword striking Kratos shield sounded like thunder. Logan slowly climbed to her feet mesmerized by the fight. They were a contrast in styles. Where Pallas was all rage and power attacking in a frenzy of blows meant to overwhelm, Molly was utterly calm. Molly used his shield and trident putting on a dizzying display of skill that confused and defeated Pallas at every turn. Yet despite it all they looked evenly matched.

‘Well, there’s no such thing as a fair fight.’ Logan thought and reached out with Air tripping Pallas. His sudden lurch to one side as he stumbled was all the opening Molly needed and his trident slammed into Pallas throat. For a second the two warriors were frozen then Molly stepped back ripping his trident free in a fountain of blood and gore.

Pallas dropped his sword and sank to his knees and as he did the red glow flowed down into the gauntlets. As the glow faded he shrank in size and the armor that had covered his body disappeared.

“I will remember this Kratos. There will come a day when I will seek you out and you won’t have a woman to save you.”

The words were softer fading toward end and then all of the energy disappeared into the gauntlets. Then as if slamming a prison door closed the gauntlets fell from Owen’s lifeless hands.

Logan looked into the mirror studying her reflection. It had taken her two tries to get the makeup just right. But it was worth the effort since she had to admit the red-head staring back at her was stunning. For all the time she’d spent as Molly Logan hadn’t had access to a mirror very often so the image was still one she was getting used to. Logan stood up and smoothed out her dress before stepping into the heels and heading down stairs.

Then click-clack of her shoes on the floor was a reminder of how much had changed over the last few months. Well, days here, but months from Logan’s perspective. Then she stepped into the dining room and spotted Molly staring out a window. As soon as she entered the room Molly turned around and flashed Logan a bright smile.

“Ah, I always loved the way that dress looked.”

Logan felt her face flush but ignored it and spun around in a quick twirl. “So, how do I look?”

“Beautiful.”

As he said it Molly moved across the room and scooped up Logan’s hand kissing her fingers. For a second Logan had a flash back to the moment Molly had met him on the front steps of the estate. Then Molly was pulling out a chair and helping Logan to sit down. The table was small since this was the private dining room and the Falk’s had always like to keep things informal whenever they could. The table had been set for three and one spot was conspicuously missing.

“The staff did a great job with dinner. I don’t think you’ve had Stephanie’s roast beef before.”

Logan nodded as the wonderful smell of dinner wafted up from the dish that Molly uncovered.

“I can remember having this, but the memory is like the memory of a dream.”

Molly nodded, “Yeah, I know what you mean. I’ve discovered that experiencing it helps to connect to the memory.”

“Is that why you spent yesterday at my apartment?”

Molly nodded, “It helped me to connect to my new identity.”

At this Logan looked down. She felt like she ought to be upset, Molly seemed more than ready to just step into his old life.

“Did you try the medallion?”

The question caused Logan to look up and then she nodded. “I did.” Then she shook her head, “It didn’t work for me either. I felt it start to change me and then it clashed with my power and it was sort of like the magic from the medallion just faded away.”

“Kratos told me before I went through the gate that I’d been changed. I think this is what he meant. We are now both part Maiar.”

“Melchiresa said something similar. I didn’t understand it until now.”

Molly nodded and then they fell silent. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence more like the quiet of two close friends lost in thought. Then Logan broke the quiet.

“Will Richard be joining us?”

“You mean your father?” Molly gave Logan a very direct look.

With a sigh Logan said, “Yes, will Daddy be joining us?”

Molly shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I talked to him earlier he’s still having trouble . . . dealing with everything.”

“Did you suggest using the medallion?”

“Yeah, and I think he will. I gave him his jacket from the night we swapped and told him to put the medallion on and then hold it to the jacket for the full thirty minutes.”

Logan nodded, “I doubt that he’ll lose his memories of what happened with Owen. But maybe they’ll fade a bit.”

“I hope so, but I think he’s going to need counseling. There are times when I wish I hadn’t killed Owen so I could do it over again slower.”

With nothing else to say Logan reached out and started serving. For the next few minutes they both focused on eating. The food was delicious and for a while it was good enough to simply eat.

“Have you finished going through Daddy’s inventory?” Logan asked.

Molly shook his head. “Not yet. I’ve been able to account for about seventy five to eighty percent of the artifacts Richard collected. Unfortunately some of the terrorists managed to escape and they took a few pieces with them.”

“Any more like those damn gauntlets?”

“It’s hard to tell. There were items whose power Richard had cataloged and then other’s marked unknown.”

“These terrorists, they aren’t really terrorists are they?” Logan asked.

“No, they’re part of a cult. Something called Mysterium Custodis.”

“The Guardians of the Mysteries?” Logan asked.

Molly nodded, “They were responsible for killing your mother and the attack on you. Evidently they were able to buy Owen and once he was convinced that magic was real he saw it as an opportunity to get ahead.”

“I guess it makes sense. Especially since he’d been caught on video killing the members of the Firm here. He couldn’t just go back to his old identity.”

“But he didn’t want to just assume Richard’s identity. He wanted a fresh start I think that’s why he was so focused on using the gate. A new world to explore and the ability to take any identity was a temptation he couldn’t resist. Plus, he’d obviously found several of Richard’s remaining artifacts even if he didn’t know what they would do.”

Logan reached out for her glass of wine and noticed that her lipstick had left a mark on the crystal. She paused for a second before taking a drink and then looked over at Molly.

“What about us?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play stupid. We’ve both tried the medallion and it doesn’t work on us now.”

Molly reached out and grabbed Logan’s small hand in his large calloused one. “Molly, face it. We’re stuck. We’re going to have to assume each other’s identity.”

Logan stared into Molly’s face and realized that she no longer thought of it as her old face.

“Yeah, I know. But I feel bad. I mean you’re losing your family, your body, and all of your inheritance. I feel like a thief.”

At this Molly laughed, “Is that what’s been bothering you? Molly, I wouldn’t switch back with you if I could. I don’t see myself as female any more. My experiences in Nevrast and being bonded to Kratos . . . they changed me. I’m only now really starting to understand the full extent of the changes, but I’ve got NO interest in being a woman.”

“Well, LOGAN, Melchiresa changed me too. I tried to fight it, but the time I spent with Turgon taught me I’m no longer male.” Then the new Molly let out a giggle, “I mean, why on Earth would I want to go back to being some hairy, smelly, guy?!”

The new Logan chuckled and let go of Molly’s hand. “So what’s next for you?”

“I’ll take care of Daddy. Make sure the estate is repaired and then take over our financial concerns. Daddy isn’t in any condition to make important decisions. Oh, and I’ll finish school. What about you?”

“Well, with the money you deposited into my account I don’t need to work. So I’ll quit the Firm. I think I’m entitled to a vacation.” Then his face clouded up and he looked away.

“You’re still hurting over Tanna?”

“Yeah, maybe I can find a beach someplace with a large supply of beer and females.”

“I’m not sure that’s the best way to deal with her death.” The new Molly said and then continued. “There’s a room for you here, whenever you want it. You’re more like family now.”

“Thanks. I think I’m going to go for a drive. My car somehow managed to survive all of the chaos without a scratch.”

After Logan left Molly went out into the backyard and looked up at the moon. She knew there was no one else on the estate besides Richard and took advantage of it. She summoned her power and her clothes shifted to black leather as red-hair shifted to midnight tresses. With a snap of her wings Molly launched herself into the air glorying in the power of flight. There was a chance the Mysterium Custodis would return and make another attempt on the estate. If they did they’d be in for a rather large surprise.

Author Note:

If you enjoyed this story please take a moment to leave a comment. Reader feedback is very important to me.

Cheers

Zapper

PS – Is there any interest in seeing a continuation of this story?

Glossary for AF: “The Bodyguard”

This is intended as a stand alone document to support Altered Fates: "The Bodyguard." I was advised to create this document due to the length and complexity of "The Bodyguard" to prevent readers from getting lost in the possibly unfamilair names, terms, and places I used in the story.

- Logan Campbell / Ilcaúrna et Maiar / Melchiresa: Main character. Former Navy SEAL now a security agent. Hired to protect Molly [Note: Melchiresa, is the daughter of the morning star, and mistress of air, fire, and metal a very powerful Maiar spirit.]

- Molly Falk / Sornohen et Maiar / Kratos: Main character. College student, daughter of Richard Falk [Note: Kratos, in this mythology, is the Maiar spirit of skilled war. He originally studied under Tulkas but then when Oromë made war upon Melkor he became Oromë’s most skilled Captain] The griffin on Molly’s back is named Boreas.

- Richard Falk: Molly’s father. Collector of Magical Artifacts. Widower. Desperately wants to find a way to bring his dead wife back.

- Sir Aglaron Thlim Duilin – Knight, Master Archer, son of Sir Duilin Lord of the House of Swallows.

- Alarukë – Handmaiden of Morgoth. Third in command of the Balrogs to invade Nevrast, falls in love with Molly in Logan’s body

- Alion – Infantry solider and First-Spear of Molly’s ad hoc army (think Sergeant Major of the Warband)

- Cainir - son of Duvainor, Ranger, part of Narmartë’s squad.

- Sir Fallaistra - Knight Captain of Ilcanalta she is of house Thlim Duilin and becomes one of Molly’s best sub-commanders.

- Gôrlir – Lieutenant to Gothmog. Second-in-Command of the Western Warband and Second-in-Command of the Balrogs and forces of Morgoth invading Nevrast

- Gorlung – Led the surprise attack on Lindornëa. A champion of Balrogs. Defeated by Molly and Logan.

- Gothmog – Captain of Angband, Lord of Balrogs, In Command of the overall assault on Nevrast, leads the First Warband

- Sir Helcëtôr Thlim Ith Mindon – Lord of House Mindon, Knight Commander of the Ondolindë Ranger Crops, Captain of the Ondolindë Knights in Nevrast, charged by King Turgon with defended Nevrast and protecting the seven villages

- Kâlraug – Balrog second in command of the eastern force. He takes command after the death of Vothgær.

- Melkor – The original Ainur name for Morgoth. The most powerful of the Ainur who rebelled against the song of Illúvatar. He is the Tolkien equivalent of the devil.

- Melandrach – Butler and Steward to Penlod and house Climbol. Friend of Narmartë.

- Morgoth: The Elven name for the Melkor, the greatest of the Ainur, the fallen Ainur, the Tolkien equivalent of the devil.

- Narmartë Thlim Ith Mindon – Captain, Ranger of Nevrast, cousin of Sir Helcëtôr and second in line to House Ith Mindon.

- Sir Nenthal – Leader of the surviving Knights of Lindornëa

- Othon - son of Aeglosson, Ranger, part of Narmartë’s squad.

- Owen Hernandez; Firm security agent, rival of Logan’s and traitor.

- Lord Penlod Thlim Climbol – Narmartë’s betrothed and Lord of House Climbol, he leads the Army of Gondolin into battle in Nevrast, when he marries Narmartë he becomes Lord of House Mindon as well

- Sir Ronir Thlim Climbol - Captain of the Ilcanalta Guards. Friend and cousin to Penlod lord of House Climbol.

- Raegdil: Cousin to Narmartë, dies in the fall of Lindornëa

- Sadron – Molly’s Elven Aide-de-Camp.

- Tanna Greenleaf – Female, Master Archer leader of the Lindornëa Archers, and Chief of Molly’s scouts. She is slain by Alarukë who then uses her form to seduce Molly.

- Sir Thanradon – Knight, rode with Sir Helcëtôr, horse was slain, has been an infantry soldier before and now serves Molly as his Infantry Commander

- King Turukáno aka Turgon King of Gondolin

- Valaraukar – The name for the fallen Maiar who became Balrogs.

- Vothgær – The Balrog leader and Captain of the Army from the east. He almost killed Molly when Molly saved Sir Fallaistra and her Warband.

- Xorag - Orc Warchief and Commander of the Warg-Riders

Arda – Elven name for the world created by Illúvatar

Angband – The land ruled by Morgoth, his fortress also bears this name.

Beleriand – The Elven name for middle earth in the first age.

Echoriath - the Mountains that encircle Nevrast.

Nevrast – Kingdom founded and ruled by Turgon upon his return to middle earth from Valinor. He left Nevrast when he disappeared with his people into Tumladen.

Village of Ilcanalta (Just east of the village to Lindornëa)

Village of Laerorn (Village south of the Great Bog but east of Rhovan in Nevrast)

Village of Lanthir (Eastern and south of the Great Bog in Nevrast)

Village of Lindornëa (Westernmost village, north of the Great Bog in Nevrast)

Village of Rhovan (Village south and west of the Great Bog in Nevrast)

Village of Talatphen (Eastern most of the villages north of the Great Bog)

Village of Bertaniel (North of the Great Bog between Talatphen and Ilcanalta)

City of Ondolindë - also known as Gondolin, only city in the Vale of Tumladen. King Turgon’s capital. Designed and built to resemble Tirion the Capital of the Valar.

Vale of Tumladen – the name of the valley King Turgon discovered and where Gondolin was built.

Tirion – Capital city of the of the Valar in Valinor

- Ainur – The name of the first beings created by Illúvatar. They are demi-gods in their own right and much more powerful than the Maiar

- Glingal and Belthil, gold and silver trees in the likeness of Telperion and Laurelin, the Trees of Light

- Hruo: Elven name for Trolls.

- Illúvatar: Elven name for the Creator or God

- Irmo: One of the Ainur, the Lord of Spirits and Dreams, the Master Summoner of the Ainur.

- Maiar: Eternal beings created by Illúvatar, they are the angels of middle earth. They are less in power than the Ainur. They have the power to assume any shape at will.

- Manwë – Most powerful and wisest of the Ainur. King of the Ainur, husband to Yavanna, Lord of the Air and all things that fly.

- Miruvor: Elven name for wine.

- Quenderin – The elven name for elves

- Tulkas – Ainur, lord of the hunt and skilled combat. He is the mightiest wrestler of the Ainur and fought Melkor even when other Ainur didn’t.

- Ulmo: One of the Ainur he has dominion over the Ocean, Seas, and water (Ulmo’s Refrain is water magic)

- Ungoliant: The giant spider goddess. The smaller giant spiders are her children.

- Valinor – Name of the land where the Ainur and Maiar life. The Tolkien equivalent to heaven.

- Valaraukar – Ancient name of the Balrogs

- Varda - Queen of the Stars, the Kindler, spouse of Manwë, titled Elentári in Quenya and Elbereth Gilthoniel in Sindarin. She kindled the first stars before the Ainur descended into the world, and later brightened them with the gold and silver dew from the Two Trees.

- Yavanna – Yavanna is Queen of the Earth and Giver of Fruits, spouse of Aulë, also called Kementári. She created the Two Trees, and is responsible for the Kelvar (animals) and Olvar (plants). It was she who requested the creation of the Ents, as she feared for the safety of the trees once her husband had created the Dwarves.

* Music of the Ainur: The music that created the world. Those that can hear the music and sing it can work magic.