Forbidden fruit is most sweet

"I see that you have made a friend," I said, my tone as dry as my mouth. 

That air within the Crack of Doom was hot and parched, the rapid change from the regulated temperature in the Otherworld. I could feel the viscera desiccating on the crystalline bird perched on my shoulder. I had it ripped from the stomach of an undead giant spider, in a grotesque parody of childbirth.

I could feel it because that bird was my familiar and we shared senses. Including touch. Which was surprisingly sensitive for something made of inorganic crystal. It was a Mystery, after all.

Yet, at that moment, it wasn't the tactile connection that held most of my attention, nor the deep thrumming of great engines reverberating through the Sammath Naur. It was the sight that captivated me.

Under a dim red light, I saw my husband for the first time in months.

There was little of him to see, for he was covered in black cloth and black iron, his face hidden by a lofty black helm. But there was much more to his disguise than just his attire. His very presence was fouler than any Orc, just a little shy of than that of a Ringwraith.

For me, it was not difficult to guess why. He had many concealed Morgul blades on his person. Well, concealed from those who only saw flesh. But the greatest darkness came from his sword.

Niquis was its name. And once it had been a source of great light. An elven blade in which a guardian angel had found a home. But now, for those who had eyes to see, like a macabre banner, great wings of shadow rose from it, and upon them were eyes of fire.

I could see what he had done. He had entwined Niquis with the projection of Grond. A copy may be a pale reflection of the original, but for this Age, Dark Lord was but a pale copy of his predecessor, a child weaning his parents' clothes. And that was enough to mark Archer as one of the favorite slaves of the Shadow.

But what I spoke about was a twisted, nearly naked creature, crawling by his feet. Stunted, nearly starved, it hid from me behind Archer's legs.

I disliked it at first sight.

"But first," I continued, without waiting for him to reply. I had more important things than his tagalong. "I have a strange feeling that when you told me that I was forbidden assuming the mantle of Dark Lord, it wasn't the case of," and I made finger quotes there. "Do as I say, not as I do."

I couldn't see it because of the help, but I knew him well enough to guess his sardonic expression.

"It is easier to walk into Mordor if I looked like I belonged there. Coming from the back also helped."

I knew that he meant from Khand, entering Mordor using the roads built for tribute, but I couldn't resist a dirty joke. "You would know that."

I guess now that I have been reunited with him, I did think a bit more about that.

He continued speaking, seeming to be in a mood for neither jokes nor flirting, "In some ways, it was easier than I expected. Few were willing to question me. The challenge was more of a moral one. I am no longer a naive fool, but it was hard to walk among wretched, pitiful slaves, and do nothing. Only the knowledge that it would all soon end kept me going. And that what I was doing was the best hope for all the suffering to be alleviated. I was grateful to reach the Plateau of Gorgoroth. The environment may have been inhospitable, but at least there were fewer slaves. Do it quickly and let us be done with it."

"Good Master had promised," the creature suddenly wailed, "We are here, gollum. Where is Precious?"

I should have known. the corrupted hobbit was fated to be here at the end. For good or for ill. 

"A promise made should be kept," I said. I raised my hand and the crystal bird rose with it. "Behold! An old friend in a new shape."

And then with an unnecessary gesture, I landed the crystal next to the pathetic creature.

Twisted hobbit jumped back at first, and then slowly, hesitantly crawled to it.

"Could it be true?" wretch muttered and hissed. "Does Elvs speaks true? Is that that you Precious? Pretty bird. Pretty Precious."

"That is needlessly cruel," Archer chided me, as he observed the scene.

"Then you shouldn't let him call you master. Besides, I thought you liked me being cruel?"

"Not like this. And you know it. Finish it."

"As you wish," I said, then commanded the familiar to take its last flight.

"No!!! Don't leave me Precious!!"

Crystal bird flew upwards, almost reaching the ceiling, and then plunged to its final dive.

This was a critical moment.

The One Ring had a will of its own, and that included a sense of self-preservation. If it was to try to stop me from destroying it, it would at this moment.

I had done what I could to minimize risk. I had tried to contain the ring. How successful I remained to be seen. I had my doubts about how exactly Spider's Kiss curse had managed to mutate.

I had brought something special for this moment. It was untested, for I had too few of it to waste any on tests.

"Precious!!" a cry interrupted my thoughts. The pitiful creature had tried to run after the bird and nearly threw himself into a fissure. Archer had stopped him, grabbing the former hobbit's arm and keeping from jumping to his death. It was a pointless gesture. He would die with the ring. For far too long had his been unnaturally extended by One Ring's grace. He would crumble as soon as the ring was unmade. The only thing that could save that pitiful creature was for me to abandon this course of action.

Ah, it had begun. But the ring would need to do better than that.

And it did better. Much better.

It started with images of Imladris in ruins. It was true, without Vilya, the Ring of Air, the hidden valley as it was could not exist. Great destroyer, time, after a long delay, would rush and unmake the refuge of the immortals. And the world would become too grim for them to bear.

And Elves would leave across the sea, to become nothing more than well-kept pets. Never again to take part in the history of the world.

The bird began to alter its trajectory. The angle of its descent was less steep now. It was still going slowly downward toward the lava, but not for long.

I was losing the mental battle. But I was prepared for that eventuality.

I took out a hollow quicksilver sphere, and by my command, it opened revealing what had been preserved within.

Something that I had taken during my accidental trip to the far past. Something that did not belong in this Age, save for a single star.

The liquid light that had gathered like a drew on the flowers of Two Trees.

I was no Feanor, and even blessed Mercury was no match for Silmarils. I could preserve that light, but only while the mirror sphere remained closed.

A new light lit the dim caves of Sammath Naur for the first time.

It was the heart of the realm of Sauron and the forges of his ancient might, the greatest in Middle-earth. Before this moment no light, save that cast by the lava flow, dared to intrude.

But through Simarils, the light of Two Trees shone in the very throne room of Angbad. Forbiddance of a lesser Dark Lord was not enough.

I had remembered it being gentler. It was beautiful beyond comparison, but as I looked at it I could see that it was harsh and terrible beauty.

In the background, I could hear the creature wailing in profound agony.

It didn't last more than a moment. It could not. It was a relic of a bygone Age, a remembrance of wonder long lost.

But it was enough. The bird had resumed its doomed course.

It was a pity that such a precious ring had to be destroyed. I had barely begun to study it. I did not dare either. At the time I had deemed that direct observation was far too dangerous. Perhaps if I had not spent so much time unconscious, I might have changed my mind, but now it was too late.

Unless I stopped.

No, much could be learned from the destruction. Perhaps even more than from just observation. For only when an object was pushed beyond its limits would its true nature be seen. To cast the One Ring into fires that made it would at the moment before its annihilation strip off all of its protection and reveals its inner Mysteries to my eyes.

If I was to break a thing to find out what it was, I had left the path of wisdom.

Destruction of the One Ring would end all that was made by its power. I had suspected that that interesting mutation of Spider's Kiss curse that infected both the Bone Tree and all of my corpse puppets was the doing of the One Ring.

I had good reasons to believe that.

First the timings. The mutation happened after I had sealed the One Ring into a giant spider corpse puppet, which also seemed to be the origin of the mutated curse.

Second the properties of the ring, more precisely to bring them all and in the darkness bind them. Because from the observed effects of mutation, it seemed to be a combination of properties of the spider, the bone tree and aggression stemmed from Orc blood.

With the destruction of the One Ring, it was possible that all that was infected with the mutated curse would also be destroyed.

I didn't have time to properly examine it. I would lose a potential source of knowledge, just because I was in a hurry to destroy the One Ring right now.

I was covered in sweat. This was tiring work. Every doubt amplified; every temptation renewed. But just a little more, and I would be free of it. I drew out the second mirror sphere. I had few of them, but I would spend every one of them to see this to its end.

Then the One Ring revealed a final secret. And I knew that the cost of destroying it was almost more than I could bear.

A compromise then.

"Very well, you have made your point. But I will tolerate no dissent. You will be mine and mine alone or you will burn."

The One Ring surrendered and with thought, I pulled the bird out of the doomed dive. It was the last moment. My familiar tail feathers melted with a touch of lava.

My mind expanded. It was as if I had suddenly gained an army of familiars.

But among the multitude, there were things that drew my attention.

The sweet taste of Sauron's despair, as his power waned. His flesh crumbled to dust, and all of the Rings of Power he had gathered fell on the ground.

The burning eye upon Black Tower had been extinguished.

He was not gone, for such a thing was only possible by the grace of One. But he was reduced to a voiceless, formless spirit that could only look at me in hate and envy.

The seven remaining Ringwraith simply acknowledged the change of leadership. Their wills had been eroded ages ago. They were reduced to simple tools, and tools cared not who wielded them.

Three, two Elves and Wizard, immediately sensed that the One Ring was claimed, and they immediately took off their rings.

"What have you done, Celebrimbor?" echoed Galadriel's thought, laden with sorrow and disbelief, just before she relinquished her ring.

I was amused that their misconception was still holding. But I could see why it was so. They were quick in breaking the connection, and I doubt that could catch more than a brief glimpse of my mind. Just guessing that an Elf claimed the One Ring was more than I expected from such short contact.

And by their knowledge, the ring was in the possession of Celebrimbor.

An interesting, but in the end irrelevant distraction.

The lands, armies, the sorceries, all were linked to me. Including Sammath Naur.

And Archer was rushing at with that sword drawn.

What!?

I must have said that part about the ring aloud. So, mistakenly believing that I had succumbed to the One Ring, he was trying to separate me from it, with that sword.

"Recall."

The space twisted and Mel appeared in the path of that sword.

His back was to the Archer, and I could see expressions on his face as Chandrahasa pushed through his back.

First confusion, then pain, then betrayal, then guilt, then profound sorrow, and he faded away contentment.

Thanks to the Archer his rehabilitation was complete, and how severed from my gem he could freely move to the West to his well-earned judgment.

And even better, he was an excellent meat shield. Not only did he make Archer waste a lot of Od, but it also gave me the time I needed for the next part.

"Recall."

All Rings of Power were bound to the Ruling Ring and now to me. Previous Lord of Rings may have been willing to dole out some of the power, with some strings attached, but I could not afford such generosity. At least for now.

Space twisted and sixteen rings began to fall to the ground. Each with an embedded jewel, each jewel about four millennia old. What could someone who practiced jewel magecraft do with such supreme materials?

With a simple gesture, they stopped falling and floated between me and Archer. The lines of light began to inscribe mystical symbols in the air, and in a moment, an impenetrable barrier formed between us.

"Can we talk?" I asked.

"Are you about to destroy the One Ring?"

"Not immediately."

"Then we have nothing to talk about."

"I have a good reason for the delay." He remained silent so I continued. "I am not lying to you."

"I believe you believe that you have a good reason. Once the One Ring is destroyed you will come to your senses."

"What are you going to do about it?" I scoffed, "I know your arsenal. There is nothing that…"

I suddenly felt a premonition of danger. Through my familiar's eyes, I could see a sword approaching at high speed. With a gust of wind, I managed to dodge it at the last moment.

"But I don't need to hit you. Could you keep that barrier up and pilot that bird well enough to dodge my swords?"

And if I dropped the barrier, he would use Chandrahasa to sever me from the One Ring.

So, I needed to multitask. At least two parallel streams of thoughts.

A well-trained alchemist from Atlas Institute could use Memory Partition, the ability to partition their thoughts to form multiple independent thought processes. I on the other hand could use Sorcery to actually have four brains, each a variant of mine, all superimposed over one another.

"Shatter: Cherubim."

This was unwritten history. This was a path not walked. This was the face of the eagle.

It was by mere chance, by me speaking words that could be interpreted as an order to bring forth an entrance to the Otherworld while holding the sky.

If I did not do that, we would never have found it, and never learned about Anchor Gate.

We would have stayed in Imladris, for a time.

The glider would be a mere proof of concept, a gateway to greater ambitions. With time and effort, I would have built a true flying ship. At first, I would have thought to use hot air for the lift, but that would require too much fuel. The next attempt would have been with hydrogen. I would make some prototypes, but they would prove too volatile in the end.

The Elven metallurgy would, in the end, provide a perfect solution. Not Mithrarian, although the antigravity metal would be perfect for making flying ships, not only that alloy required mithril for making, but it also had an even more rare and dangerous component. Celebur, which could be translated as "burning silver", and what I would, from the description, come to believe to be uranium.

And there was also that there was no recorded instance of Mithrarian. Sauron, in his guise as Annatar, introduced the concept to the Gwaithi-Mirdain, and though it attracted much interest, not even Finculin or Celebrimbor would undertake its making. Since Mordor had yet to field any flying ships or fortresses, I remained skeptical about it.

So rather than try to reinvent a legend, I would construct the vessel from the alloy I already used in gliders, Tasarang. Willow-iron, while extremely light and flexible but with perfect resilience, was still heavier than air. So how would I make it fly? I would use an idea, that was still impractical in the modern earth because there was no material in there that could match the properties of Elf-made willow-iron. A vacuum ship. After all, what is lighter than nothing?

And so, the second flying ship would be built, and it would be beautiful. I would name it Vanda, a promise.

It would still look much like Elven sea-going swan ships. Mostly because I would have needed some assistance in shipbuilding and that help would come from Gray Heavens. The lift would be built in the center of the hull, and it would use sail for propulsion, although they would not just expand upwards, but also to the sides.

Vanda would be armed with well-designed scorpions and burning mirrors. That would serve her well, for some perils could not be avoided in any possible world.

On her maiden voyage to Mithlond, she would be assaulted over the Shire. Ringwraiths would come to the wings of the black storm, riding foul-winged beasts.

Nine times would Archer draw his bow, and nine wraiths would be cast down, robbed of their form, and sent scurrying back to their master. It would not be the last time that would try to attack Vanda.

We would fight Ringwraiths again over the plains of Rohan on the journey to Minas Tirith. There they would bring greater forces. Driven by our newly acquired dominion over the sky, Sauron would breed a multitude of hell-hawks, ridden by Uruks from Mordor itself.

That battle would be much closer, but we would have been not idle. A force of gliders would have been added to Vanda.

Here too, I would meet Mithrandir in the Hall of Books and would help locate Isildur's testimony. At his urging, we would take him aboard and fly the ship directly to the Shire.

From the Shire, after picking up a few hobbit passengers, we would go back to Imladris. There the Council of Elrond would be held. In that council, the path toward the destruction of the One Ring would be decided. Speed, not stealth, would be chosen, to act before the Enemy could guess our intentions, to move above the Enemy's defenses.

Before we would have left, Elrond would give me his ring, with these words, "Whether you succeed or fail, this Ring would be of no further use to me. So, take it. You travel by air, and the Ring of Air may open new paths when all seems lost."

He would stay but all his children would join us. And Glorfindel, and as many elven archers as we could fit onto Vanda.

There was one decision that would be made on that council that I would disagree with but could not object to.

We would stop by Isengard to pick up Saruman.

He would prove his worth when we would encounter Sauron's version of the flying ship. It would be a colossal vessel, made of twisted black metal. So many spikes.

In shape, it would look much more like a zeppelin, with an elongated bag over numerous fires keeping aloft. So, he either had lied to jewel-smiths or he could not find any uranium. I knew that he received the regular tribute of mithril from Moria. It would be captained by Witch-King, and crewed by the dead. It would not come alone. It would be accompanied by enough winged monsters led by other Ringwraiths to darken the sky.

The battle would be the hardest yet. There would be many acts of heroism, but in the end, it would be Saruman's clever devices and Gandalf's fireworks that would bring it down. Glorfindel would lead the charge of Elves on gliders for by this time he would have gotten quite skilled in them, and neither living nor wraiths would be able to withstand his charge. He would open a path for us, but then he would be lost. Whether he would live or die, and those with him, I could not have known.

On the slopes of Mount Doom, the armies of Mordor would have been waiting for us. But I would have not been idle. Using both mine and Archer's od I would have charged Ring of Sapphire.

Glutted by our combined mana, the tool of preservation would mane into one of destruction. The sacrifice of the Ring of Power would bring such hurrane winds, that all that stood before us would no more. The path to Crack Of Doom would be open.

Then at the very end, Saruman would betray us. Frodo would die, impaled on the White Wizard's staff.

But treason Wizards would be next, pushed by the sacrifice of Gandalf into lava pits. 

And I would take the One Ring.

This was unwritten history. This was a path not walked. This was the face of the lion.

Saruman had mentioned that there was an entrance to the Deep in caves under Amon Sul. Archer and I never found it, but what if we did?

Driven by curiosity we would explore, not knowing that we would be hunted.

And there deep under the earth, away from light and hope Ringwraiths would find us.

The narrow tunnels would conceal their scent from Archer, and I would have been too curious about Nameless Things to set Tohsaka family wards before entering Deeps.

They would ambush us.

By the Rule Breaker, two Ringwraiths would fall, before killing Archer.

But he had died before, and the death was not an end for an Elf.

He would refuse the call of Mandos and remain by my side. The ill deed was done for love. 

He should be rendered powerless, and vulnerable to potent Back Arts that Slaves of Ring would wield. But for one thing.

Marriage between living and dead, as a subcategory of marriage between moral and divine, was something Tohsaka had studied for generations. Like most of the other spells my family used, it deepened on Thaumaturgical Attribute Conversion, life to death, and death to life.

As a wraith, Archer would not have enough od to use the Rule Breaker but being dead neither could Ringwraiths kill him again.

It would be a war of attrition, a slow grind with them trying to kill me and Archer trying to stop them. And one that we would be losing,

Until I managed to use Spider's Kiss on one of them. And then another, and another.

It would not be enough to end them. The Rings of Power would prevent that.

But they would be left, helpless and bound by my familiar. Trapped in the cycle of the seed and harvest. Reduced to nothing more than a source of magical energy.

I would leave for the Shire. There would be no half-measures with familiars, I would need to see the ring for myself.

It would not be hard to convince Frodo of the seriousness of the situation. Because I would be accompanied by Archer's spirit, I council against going east to Imladris. I would council south, using the Green Way after crossing at Tharbad we would abandon the road, go directly south, cross river Isen, and arriving at the seldom-traveled gap in Ered Nimrain we would enter Gondor and reach the Bay of Belfalas.

Frodo would agree. And because I would remember to set up a proper Bounded Field before discussing sensitive matters, there would be no eavesdroppers.

His disappearance would remain a mystery. There would be rumors about the cursed treasure that Bilbo had brought from his infamous journey. But the time those reached anyone of the importance we would be long gone.

I would disguise myself and Frodo, and rather than traveling as an Elf and a hobbit, we would be a pair of Man, father, and son. That would not surprise Frodo, for he was quite learned in ancient history for hobbits and knew the Lay of Leithian. In it, there were several instances where Elves assumed other shapes. Naturally, I would use magecraft, but the difference would not be something he could notice.

Once we abandoned the road we would travel through the wilds, avoiding any sentient contact. That would be helped by Archer's scouting and by spells of concealment, I would cast.

We would eat wild fruits, berries, and roots I would gather. Sometimes Archer would bring me dead animals, with no wounds on them, killed by fear. Rabbits and birds, mostly. And there would be lembas from time to time, but that we would only eat sparingly.

Traveling through the wild, with an abundant supply of magical energy and a lack of other resources, like more gems would force me to improvise. Technically it was possible to project a gem imbued with magical energy. After all, creating missing reagents for spells was, unless one was a specialist like Archer, the general purpose of projection.

But it was extremely inefficient. Generally, there were better ways of using magical energy to get gems, like summoning an appropriate Elemental or a Spirit or just selling that energy to another Mage. That was the reason that basic Projection Magecraft had been generally considered useless, except for teaching novices.

But since I would be deprived of other options. Well, that would not be a complete truth. The most efficient path would be to focus on my bond with Archer and act as a support.

But the travel would be long, and I would need to spend some of the excess magical energy that I would constantly be harvesting from my captives.

Elven smiths, in the tradition of Fëanor and the Silmarils, knew how to make gems. It was known among Elves that extreme heat and pressure over time create natural gemstones from less noble elements. With the aid of powerful Essence, Noldor, and I among them were able to duplicate this process and greatly accelerate it. Other methods were also mastered: the pouring of liquids that later harden, the crystallization of chemical mixtures, and other means.

I had previously considered that knowledge was useless for the purpose of Jewel Magecraft. Like in all magecraft, regents' age greatly improves the spell, therefore synthetic gems were almost useless in Jewel Magecraft.

From what I had observed Archer's magecraft mentally simulating the process of creation while casting increases the quality of procreation.

I would combine knowledge with Projection Magecraft. The result would be beyond my greatest hopes. Not only would the quality of gemstones created in that way be of much higher quality than my wildest estimate, but those gemstones would also be as useful for Jewel Magecraft as jewelry that had been in human possession for over a century.

One more thing I would discover if I sang while projecting gems, it would somewhat improve quality. Frodo would also seem to like my singing.

We would reach western Gondor without any notable incidents. There once more we would take the appearance of Man.

The inhabitants would be weary, but hostable. We would not have much trouble restocking our supplies, although they would be of lesser quality.

Bay of Belfalas we would cross in a boat made of sapphire I would sing into being.

Once we reached land ruled by the Shadow, I would change our disguise.

Black Numenorian accompanied by a small Orc would enter the port city of Umbar. He would be a Sorcerer-smith, not that uncommon occupation in lands under the shadow of Black Tower. Imitation was the sincerest form of flattery. In a land ruled by fear, a degree of safety could be achieved by the appearance of pleasing the tyrant. Even if the tyrant himself would never of that sycophancy.

In that guise, I would make and offer a tribute to the Lord of the City. A sword of rare craftsmanship, upon which blade would be written "to strongest", in Black Speech. For that gift, I would request and be given a boon. A right to be in nominal command of one caravan bearing tribute to the Black Tower.

He would kill nine men who would try to take the swords from him. Two would be his sons. Tenth would kill him and take the blade. All that would happen in ten days we would spend there waiting for the caravan to be ready.

The city would descend into strife, but that would not be enough to delay tribute. It was the lesson that Sauron had carved into their bones.

We would travel with the caravan carrying goods and slaves. It would hardest part of this journey. Not physically, for as the one nominal command I would be given any luxury available, and Frodo in his guise would be treated only slightly less. But we still would have to watch great suffering, with the only comfort being that we bring an end to it once we reach our goal.

When we neared the destination some of the others guards and slave masters would try to kill me and Frodo. Perhaps we would have been too soft on slaves and thus weak, or perhaps they were just greedy for the honor of delivering tribute. It would be the last mistake they would make.

But that would give us an excuse to leave the caravan and travel instead to our true destination Mount Doom.

But once we arrived at the Cracks of Doom history would repeat itself, and Frodo would refuse to destroy the ring.

Then I would prove that I was a different Elf than Elrond. For good or ill.

For I would strike fallen Ringbearer down. 

And I would take the One Ring.

This was unwritten history. This was a path not walked. This was the face of the ox.

In our brief visit to the past of Valinor, before Silmarils, before the death of Two Trees, we had left quickly, before we could cause disturbance in the past. What if we had lingered a bit more?

The first to approach us would be Melkor, for he was yet to be named Morgoth, Black Foe of the World. He would come with fair words and foul intent.

I would not know about Archer, but I would be sorely tempted. Much of what spoke would sense to me.

Luckily before I could be tempted into doing something quite unwise, we would be rescued by the herald of Manwe. We would be summoned to the full gathering of Valar.

Of course, we would be provided with clothing first.

There they would decide what was to be done about traveling through time. As Malkor would have previously said, our presence would be required, but our input would not.

In the end, they would reach the same decision, and the proper progress of events would be sacrosanct. We would be forbidden to speak to anyone of the future we came from, we would be ordered to travel back as soon as possible and never again swim against currents of time.

A new law would be passed, which would state that any action that could result in altering the past would be forbidden.

When we would have returned to the future, Glorfindel would be waiting for us. Since that debate would take place in the past, he would be old enough to remember it. For that reason, my ability to transverse through space and time (and parallel timelines) would not remain secret.

Although crossing time would be forbidden by the decree of Valar, just crossing distance would not.

With that being in the open, it would be that I would focus on, rather than experiment with flight.

I would quickly find out that such a spell would be unwieldy. It would take at least a full ritual or Mystic Code. Second would serve my purposes better since I would want others to be able to use it too. The natural shape for such a thing would be a gate.

I had experimented with several different materials for the base. In the end, the best effect would not be from something I had in my hidden workshop in the basement of my house, but from something belonging to this world.

A synthetic crystal named laen, meaning long thread. The name referred to the incredibly long crystal lattice structure, allowing for the strength of the material. It had a bizarre property. It would gain strength and rigidity with Heat. Only by chilling to temperatures beyond cold could it be softened, and then it would be sculpted and molded to the desired form.

Due to that quality lean was often used by Elven smiths as a mold during forging.

It would also be proven to be a surprisingly efficient magical energy conductor.

Natural laen was black or smoky, but it would be cleared with treatments and tinted any number of transparent colors. That would also change its properties, concerning the flow of magical energy.

So, in the end, the gate I would make would be a riot of colors that would almost be hard to look at. The shape would not help either, for crystals would be argued in multiple helices, which appear to writhe when in use.

By the spring I would have created several connected gates. First, two would be within the Imladris. The next two would connect Mithlond with Imladris. If the high pass was not closed perhaps the next pair would be to link with Lorien.

Naturally, since the gates would be created using True Magic, I could not reveal the methods of their making. But from the outside perspective, it would appear that I would not, rather than could not.

Such secrecy was not utterly unheard of among Elven smiths, but it called to more infamous ones.

While to others, they would be a wonder, to me these simple gates would be mere trifles, essays in the craft while it matured. What I planned was a single gate that could connect to anywhere. The strategic value of such a device would be quite obvious.

Once I would begin construction, I would find that laen alone would be insufficient. Even adding a little sample I had of Aurora steel would not be enough.

The solution would come from outside. Like in another timeline, Saruman would come to Imladris. The council would be held again. Deeming my work of greatest importance, rather than leave afterward he would stay.

He wouldn't come empty-handed. His contribution to the project would consist cache of mithril.

When asked of its origin, he would say that he had led a band of Rohirim to intercept orcs bearing tribute to Mordor. No one would ask further questions. Perhaps we should have.

The last problem in the construction of the gate would be navigation, and how to target the exit point. He would have an answer for that. A great sacrifice on his part.

And then Saruman would betray us, for once the gate would be completed with the addition of Palantir, the seeing stone would link to one in Barad-dur.

The vision of the burning lidless eye would overwhelm me. The Dark Lord would burrow into my mind, seeking the secret of gate-making. It would be my ignorance that saved me, for I could not reveal what I could not truly understand. Then I would know that the prerequisite of teaching anyone secrets of the Second Law was that I master it first.

What Shadow could not gain by force; he would try by guile. His words were sweet as poison and sharp as a blade, he would try to convince me to join him willingly.

He would praise my craft and how greater it would be under his tutelage. How many secrets, both fair and foul, he could reveal to me?

He would praise what I have understood of the construction of the Rings of Power from scarce sources and would offer to teach me like he did jewel smiths of the old. To make my own Ring of Power, under his supervision.

He would be greatly pleased with my interest in necromancy, and those secrets he would share most freely.

Before I would be utterly lost, I would be saved by Archer. Sometimes the mercy would be a blunt blade, especially if that blade was the Rule Breaker.

Noble Phantasm of the Witch of Betrayal would break our connection. And also broke my bonds with families and undone the setting of wards over Amon Sul.

And it would close the gate.

Because while I was under the Dark Lord's influence would have opened the path to Barad-dur, and Imladris would have been invaded. Saruman would have assisted the coming invaders.

Few orcs would be among them. For this, the Enemy would send his elites. The strongest among Olog-hai, the most potent Black Numenorians, and the fiercest werewolves. He would send no wraiths, for they have proven of less use against the Elves.

By the time I would have regained my senses, the battle would have been raging for some time.

And just before the gate would be closed, Sauron himself would march through.

Perhaps he would have thought that battle was all but won. Perhaps he would believe that the prize was worth the risk. Or perhaps, most dire perhaps, he would have sensed the One Ring. Frodo would have been in Imladris at that time.

The battle would be fierce, and much closer than any would be comfortable with.

In the end, Dark Lord's nature would betray him, and to avoid the risk of losing his material form he fled, in the form of a great vampire, bearing Saruman in his claws. He would flee north, to rejoin Witch King and plan his next attack.

This would be the price of betrayal. Imladris burning. Frodo dead. He would have died trying, failing to save Biblo.

But the gate would still stand. And Sauron and his Palantir would be separated, but countless miles.

Path to Amon Amarth would be possible.

And I would take the One Ring.

And last, history written, the path walked. The face of the Man.

Four of me had been gathered, and in darkness bound together.

Four brains, overlapping the same space. Four streams of thoughts, separate, but not.

It was hard to describe, for they were me, and yet not.

Similar enough that we would easily work as one, yet different enough that we would not simply merge.

We have come from the same source, but we had diverged, due to chance or a choice.

It was difficult to describe being under this spell. It was more than just touching simple shadows maybes. The other faces felt more real, more complete. Their memories felt like mine.

Without the One Ring, I could not have managed to cast this advanced version of Shatter. Not now. Perhaps in the future, when my skill would have grown.

I wondered how did we look from the outside?

Perhaps there were the visible manifestations of the spell, or perchance we looked like an asura, with multiple faces, and multiple arms, or more probably I had taken a biblical appearance due to the foundation I had used for that spell.

Nonetheless, this was not time for idle curiosity. I had tasks to complete. I had to defend both myself and the bird familiar from Archer and do one more complex work of spellcraft.

We instantly divided our tasks.

One of me, the Eagle having the most experience with the Ring of Power, focused on controlling the barrier.

What I said before, about the impenetrability of the barrier, was true, from a certain point of view. It would be able to block anything I knew about that Archer could throw at it as long I paid full attention to it.

The Archer was unpredictably versatile for a specialist. In some way, he really embodied what was to be Magus.

As Abraham Maslow said in 1966, "I suppose it is tempting, if the only tool you have is a hammer, to treat everything as if it were a nail."

Among the magi that would be reformulated, by Abel Norwich as "If one would refine a concept of hammer well enough, everything becomes a nail."

But his versatility comes with a cost. There is good reason unless there was a very specific need, he limits himself to half a dozen swords.

The more familiar he was with a weapon, the more often he had used it, the better he was at projecting. In this case, the better was measured as less magical energy used and higher fidelity. And of course, there was also the matter of how close the original weapon was to the concept of a sword.

That was why I didn't have to worry about hard counters to magecraft like Rule Breaker, Crimson Rose of Exorcism, or that sword.

But there were many others, so my strategy was to use a formation made of Rings of Power, as both lens and barrier. Observing and shifting in a way that I would preserve an advantage.

He, on the other hand, bombarded the barrier with different types of attacks, trying to force me to rapidly shift configuration, hoping for a mistake.

Enlightenment drowned in the world's illusions.

Fire quenched in water.

Water devoured by hungry earth.

Light of hope trapped within a mirror-maze of deception.

Hunter lost in a mist of forgetfulness.

Heaven's chosen king was cast down by treachery.

Familiar we surrendered to the keeping of Lion. I projected the Jade eyes onto the wings of the bird, sending out pulses of magical energy as radar, a used wings as an antenna.

Jade eyes I used to control gravity.

Visibility may be low, anything Archer projected I would feel through that pulse.

Thus, I used eyes to fly, and wings to see.

The crystal flew in that way, and numerous swords chased it.

If the conflict near the barrier could be described as an elaborate chess match or an occult game of poker, then this battlefield was dodgeball, with swords.

Ox remained in reserve, ready to jump in where it was needed.

And for Man, the truest part of me, the hardest task.

The reason why I had delayed the destruction of the ring and got into this fight with Archer.

Yes, delayed.

Precious as it was, it still needed to be destroyed. After this was done. Consequences would be unpredictable, and likely catastrophic otherwise.

By revealing that secret, the One Ring had brought some time but not much of it. But when oblivion beacons, every moment was precious.

I could not blame Archer for not believing me, even if it was quite inconvenient. He did not know what I did. And even if I told he could not believe anything I said. The One Ring's capability to compromise those it came in contact with was well documented.

"Bridge."

I broke the law of the Valar. I reached not to the adjacent worlds, but to this world's past. I reached the moment when Sauron forged the One Ring.

That was one part of the secret that One Ring revealed, how to use Bridge, by almost reaching an atemporal place, like for example the Void, and then twisting back to another time and place.

The second part of the secret was a piece of True Magic implanted deep into the ring at the moment of its making. It meant that I would and have used the spell to aid in forging the One Ring. For a certain meaning of aid. I certainly aided myself and the One Ring.

Sauron might had a different opinion. Not that his opinion mattered to me.

In the end, I was forced to break that law, I was forced to delay the destruction of the ring. Otherwise, I risked paradox. And however enlightening would be to observe such, good practice would be to keep such experiments away from breakable things, like Arda for example.

With the spell cast, I could see Sauron in the past, with each stroke of the hammer pouring more and more of himself into the ring being forged.

I reached and added my own, subtle blessing. Setting the ground for treachery that would come.

Because now I understood, for the very moment it was forged the One Ring was meant for me. I alone could bring it to its potential.

Sauron would give much of his being to the making of the ring. He would need to if the One Ring would serve the purpose. And with my "help", the ring would take even more.

I completed my work and closed the path to the past.

And for almost two Ages spell I had inscribed into the ring would wait in the ring to stabilize and strengthen and wait to be cast, guiding the past into this present.

"It is done," I spoke in four voices.

Archer paused his spells for a moment to ask, "What have you done?"

"Have you ever wondered why the One Ring had betrayed Isildur? Wouldn't be wiser that it had stayed with the Numenorian king? With the ring's help, he would have become a great king and great sorcerer. Eternal and unageing. In time, perhaps, he would reunite the realms of Gondor and Arnor, whether by the quill or the sword. And when Sauron would have regained his strength, he just needed to cast out Isildur's already corrupt spirit and move in. Utter victory, without any war. Instead, a betrayal. And the ring was lost from all memory. Do you know why?"

"Does it matter?" he asked, anger evident in his voice. His beautiful grey eyes were narrowed, and his sword, one I had made, was pointed at me. But at least he stopped trying to attack me for now.

"Since it was the reason I didn't destroy the ring, I think it does matter. The One Ring had betrayed Isildur because it was the first step that led to my hand. Precious little thing was always meant to be mine."

"Did the ring tell you that? You can't trust that thing. Let me help you destroy it."

"I know that. It is precious but quite treacherous. I should recognize that since it was me who carved meaning of unfaithfulness at the moment of its making."

"I see. You have meddled in time."

My lips twitched into a brief smirk. It was a mixture of pride in what I had done and a touch of hunger at his quick deduction. Smart was hot.

And then he had to spoil it by continuing, "You were warned about this."

"There was no choice. I had seen signs of my Arts in the very making of the ring. To unmake it, before doing so would risk paradox. Perhaps I have broken the letter of law, but I have kept its spirit, preserving a self-consistent timeline."

"So, after doing that is now safe to destroy the ring?"

"Yes," I simply replied glad that he was finally seeing my point. "The past leads to the future, and the future leads to the past. The circle is complete."

"Why are you wasting time talking? Destroy it NOW!"

"Not just yet. The spell that I had implanted into the ring had been gathering Mystery for longer than the Mages Association had existed. It would shame not to cast at least it once. Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul"

Each word spoken in Black Speech echoed in the cavern until four voices turned into a maddening choir. The volcano rumbled in the tempo of my words and the air was filled with the smell of brimstone. And on the breast of the crystal bird, the location of the ring was revealed by the crimson glow.

"Behold!" I continued to speak, "To his words, I have added additional meaning. There can be only one Lord of The Rings, in this world or any other. Now, this Ruling Ring would gather all others of its kind and devour them. The One Ring to truly rule them all. All rotten eggs in one basket. And then we can drop the basket. So, can you be patient? At least a little."

"And how long it would take? Eternity and a day?"

"Perhaps there could be infinite timelines in which Sauron had forged the One Ring, but my reach is more limited. I had set first to be one where Celebrimbor had forged his own Ruling Ring. Conflict with the usurper will significantly weaken the target. And with each Ruling Ring consumed the next would be devoured faster. By my calculation, we should see exponential growth. Two to five hours in my estimate."

"You sound so very reasonable. If only I could trust you."

"You can trust me. The precious does not control me."

"I see," he said, and I smiled, relieved. "Trace Overlay: Excalibur."

There was no physical change in Niquis but it suddenly gained a regal mien. He charged with, with speed much greater than I had seen before, breaking the barrier and scattering the rings.

Just as I had planned. That was a mistake.

Because now he was in the center of the circle that scattered rings made.

"Krimp." I cast.

Fifteen threads one from each of the rings rushed to bind him head to foot. He managed to cut some, but all mana flowing was mine to command. Each he cut I replaced with another until he was bound.

The last ring I held in my hand, and said, "Ring of Fire will suit you. You should trust me more, but the ring will fix that."

I walked slowly keeping my full attention on him. This was a bit too easy. I suspected a trap. "Nothing to say?"

"If have to resort to mind control to win an argument, you know have lost it."

"It only temporarily. Until spell is done, and I cast precious into the fire."

"By the time that spell is done, you will have neither will nor desire to do so."

I was in reach if he was to strike it would be any moment now.

"Now where I should put the ring? The finger is traditional, but I could do better than that," I said looking at his cloth-covered crotch.

I was thinking about the best way to remove that obstacle when I suddenly lost all connection to my familiar.

I swiftly turned and just got the barest glimpse of the falling mess. There was a tangle of my bird and not that much larger ragged figure falling into the fiery abyss.

The was a great roar and fire leaped up the ceiling. The spells broke. Archer was free. And I was just me again.

Suddenly, utterly exhausted, I sat on the ground. 

It was so quiet. I felt small and diminished. Lethargic. 

The mountain shook. The orderly pulse of machines devolved into the pained screech of broken metal.

I turned to Archer, and our eyes met. 

"Run?"

"Run!"

He grabbed my hand and pulled me to the blue police box that led to the Otherworld. It was going too slow, and it was completely my fault. I was plagued by exhaustion both of body and spirit.

Shakes grew ever stronger. And the air was getting both hotter and more filled with smoke. It was becoming very hard to breathe.

"Wait, the rings!" I still had the Ring of Fire in my hand, but others lay abandoned on the cave floor. It seemed lesser now.

"Leave them. We have no time for them."

The first thing I saw in the entrance hall of the Otherworld was that there was one door less. The anchor gate was no longer there.

The second thing was that my corpse puppets were reduced to chunks of meat. Not utterly unexpected. They were saturated by the curse "improved" by One Ring and were destroyed with it.

"Change the gate," I ordered and dropped on the floor.

I closed my eyes.

"I can't," Archer cried, "It won't move."

The door was burning.

In despair, I focused, but I was so tired, trying to remember how we had shifted the Worlds after the confrontation with Three Worse Girls since Eve.

That elusive feeling. And then I tried to pull or push or something.

There was a tearing sound.

"Warning. Detaching from host reality."

The door broke, and the fire rushed within. 

I watched helplessly. 

And then we died.