Chapter 1 – Angels, Demons, Orcs & Elves…
I cruised down the wide open, deserted highway. The wind on my skin was hot and dry. I knew I should have been wearing my leather, simply for safety’s sake. But sometimes, one likes to live dangerously. Or stupidly, depending upon who you ask. My chromed out Honda Goldwing flew smoothly and quietly down the highway. I never was one for unnecessary loudness. Neither was I into helmets. Rebel in some ways, conformist in others, I guess. We are what we are, right? I enjoyed the open roads and riding for my vacations. And I’d go as far and as fast as I could, in the little time that I ever had to TAKE a vacation… This one turned out to be MUCH farther and longer than I had ever imagined.
My trips were always alone. I was single, always had been, though I couldn’t say I was content to be so. But such was life. We all have to deal the cards we are dealt. Good or bad. This time, I was headed into the west, crossing Texas at a speed that the local and state authorities certainly wouldn’t approve of, if their radar and laser gear could detect me. I was also big on gadgets and friends who created new gadgets. Joe’s Radar Eliminator made me invisible to the cops, except by sight. They could still SEE me going like a bat out of hell, but I wouldn’t register on any piece of gear they owned. So, I tended to usually push the limits of common sense. Right now I was doing close to one hundred and forty miles an hour. WHICH is why I couldn’t avoid the weird anomaly which appeared in the road in front of me.
The blacktop suddenly shimmered. You know how a hot road creates a visual distortion sometimes? Well it looked like that. But Ten feet high and spanning the entire highway. I slammed on the brakes, but knew damned well I wouldn’t be able to stop in time. Not that I had any fear of whatever it was. I just wanted to take a few pictures and see what would come out. The Goldwing slewed back and forth and the tires stuttered on the hot asphalt as I skidded to a non-stop – THROUGH whatever the vision before me was. I stayed upright until I passed into and out of it. THEN, I fell and hit the ground. Off of a horse. NOT my Iron Horse either. I looked up stunned at a gold colored stallion of immense size. A Clydesdale or Bavarian draft horse of some sort. The horse looked at me, seemingly stunned also.
*what the hell just happened???* the thought broke across my brain. It was a thought NOT my own.
“oh god. I’ve got a concussion. I’m hearing things…” I moaned and sat up fully, rubbing the back of my skull where I had lightly hit the…dirt. No road surface anymore. A dirt trail. Well, maybe a road by someone’s standards…
The horse swung his face around and looked at me.
*you HEARD me? wait a minute… how can i be HEARD anyway?? i’m an inanimate object!!!*
I looked in stunned amazement at my ride.
“Not…anymore, apparently. You’re an extremely large, intelligent horse, who happens to be able to communicate telepathically. OR, my brains are leaking out my ear on a Texas highway and this is my way of dying.”
The horse thoughtfully leaned down and bit me on the arm.
“OW! DAMNIT!!!”
*nope. pain is usually a great indicator. you’re not hallucinating. probably not dying either. *
I rubbed where I had been bit. “Okay Mr. Smart. Then explain what’s going on!”
The horse looked up and around. It cantered around and looked behind, at where we had just come from.
*dimensional rift. different reality. apparently a motorcycle won’t translate here. and this space-time continuum chose a workable analog; a horse.*
“Yeah. What you said. And you’re so smart because?”
*check my saddlebags. i bet your laptop isn’t in there anymore.*
I groaned and got to my feet, finally taking stock of myself. I was wearing a puffy pirate shirt, leather pants and leather boots. They were similar to what I had been wearing moments before when I passed through the…whatever it was. Except for the shirt. Normally I wouldn’t be caught dead in something so faggy. I felt like Seinfeld for a moment.
The horse watched with curiosity as I approached and started rummaging through the bag strapped to his side.
“No. Laptop is gone. Gps is gone. Cell phone is gone. Crap.”
*not gone. translated. included in ME, i guess.*
I chewed my lower lip, thoughtfully.
“So you’re my motorcycle. And all my gear.”
*all the technological stuff. I’m betting your non-tech stuff is still there in some form, right?*he tossed his head back towards the bag.
I looked again. Clothes. Canteen. Funky bread wrapped in leaves. Funky bread wrapped in leaves?? That was familiar. I took a piece out, unwrapped it and chowed down. Good. Not stale at all as I would have expected.
“Okay. So where are we….Horse?”
The animal looked at me. I read a feeling of amusement.
*you need to think of SOMEthing to call me.*
“What do you WANT to be called?” I asked.
*goldwing will do, I guess. at least you won’t forget it. like my oil changes…*
‘HEY!! You JUST had an oil change!!”
*sure. after you skipped the last two and just poured new in on top of the old. ya cheap bastid.*
“I am not cheap. Just got distracted is all.” I muttered sheepishly, turning away finally to study our surroundings. Beautiful rolling hills. A dark, funky looking forest to one side. Few dozen Orcs running towards us at full tilt, yowling and brandishing swords. “Aw CRAP. I know where we are…”
*middle-earth. get aboard. we’d better haul arse. i don’t feel like becoming orc soup.*
I wasted precious seconds, figuring out how to crawl up into the saddle. Goldwing wheeled around and headed for the woods. Although the Orcs moved fast, there were in no way coming close to my steed’s speed. We were into the woods in the blink of an eye. My mount turned and ran along the inside of the forest-line, heading south, past where the army had come from. He shot back out of the woods, hit the path and poured on the speed, still heading south. A horseman, I was not, but even I knew the speed we were making was far beyond what a horse could ever achieve.
“Where are we heading?” I asked, leaning forward near to one of his ears.
*away from the stewpots!!!* the thought was laughingly shouted into my brain.
“Good a place As any, I guess.”
*we’re headed south. going to try and pass Isengard without being seen and then head for Helm’s Deep. this forest is Fanghorn, i think. not quite sure of WHICH side of it we’re on, tho.*
“Okay. Do we know WHEN we are in Middle Earth?”
*those are orcs, roaming out in the open; we’re during the war of the rings i’d imagine.*
I digested that bit of information. What to do now? Seek a way home? Bum around the countryside and see the sights and risk getting attacked either by Orcs or the Riders of Rohan? Or join the battle and stay away from the main characters of the story as much as I could manage.
“I have the complete Ring Cycle in my Kindle. What do you think?” I asked my running companion.
*yah. i’ve been running it through my head since the Orcs showed up. not sure if we should openly interfere or not. *
“Well,” I reasoned,” it’s not like we’d be changing our own history. Tolkien wrote a fantasy, not a history.”
*debatable. there’s still the rumor that he translated the whole thing from the Red Book of Westmarch, or Hergest. maybe we’d affect things. maybe we wouldn’t. frankly, my existence has been spent as an inanimate object, so i don’t think i’m qualified to make a decision here.*
I snorted, “Well you’re animated enough NOW. We’re in this together and I would value your input.”
I felt Goldwing smile, in my head. It was a strange sensation; to FEEL someone else’ feelings in your brain. Then that smile turned to icy fear.
*NAZGUL! airborne. two o’clock.*
Turning my head slightly, the flying dragon-like thing was almost upon us. We were out in the open. No trees, no hills or houses to hide behind.
“Can we outrun him?”
*i’m fast. but not THAT fast.* the horse mentally gritted his teeth, and pulled to a stop, waiting for the Black Rider to reach us.
“We’re going to FIGHT him then??” I asked, my voice involuntarily rising in pitch.
“An interesting pickle, no?” a voice said, from just to my left. I fell out of the saddle to my right and looked underneath Goldwing, in the direction of the voice. A small man stood there, dressed in robes of blue.
“You have all you need to fight the Black Rider. You just need some instruction on how. Quickly now, on your feet. “
And I was standing. Not of my own volition, I might add.
“Hand on your horse, please.”
Numbly, I did as I was bade, turning my head to look at the flying demon-thing which was rapidly descending on us.
“Armor mode.” The blue clad stranger said. Suddenly, Goldwing was gone, and I was clad head to toe in gold armor. “MUCH better. Now, draw your sword and fight!”
I reached to my side and found the pommel of a weapon. My hand closed about the hilt and I drew the broadsword. The blade was exceptionally long, and the metal brighter than any sword I had ever seen. It almost looked like chrome. Except that was lousy choice for sword metal. The hilt was metal, and checked. It fit my hand and did not slip, despite its considerable weight. I recognized it. Middle-Earth had translated my father’s WWII army issue pocket knife.
Suddenly, the arm not holding my father’s sword shot upward, pointing at the Wraith. There was the sound of a release of compressed gas, and a bolt shot from my wrist, trailing a thin cable.
“HEY!! Do I get any say in this???” I gasped, as the projectile hit the Rider’s mount and sank in, deeply. Then, the cable started to reel itself in, whipping me from the ground and sending me streaking upwards towards my target.
*I don’t think so…* Goldwing said, just before we sling-shotted around and ended up standing firmly planted on the flying pterodactyl-thing’s back, just behind it’s rider.
The Nazgul emitted a hissing noise and leapt up, drawing its own sword. Frightened, I brought my sword up to block his thrust and frantically parried repeated blows, without giving ground. Hell, there was no ground to GIVE. Although, I noted the dirt did seem to be approaching at a pretty good clip…
We hit the earth with a sickening thud and crunch, the rider’s mount dead, from my spear-cable. NOW, I began backing up, in no small amount of wonderment that the crash didn’t kill me and at least JOLT the Wraith. Our blade rang loudly, as it attacked and I defended. Not well, either, I might ad. Guns, I had done in my life. Swords, not so much, outside of high-school plays.
*stop backing up. press him.* Goldwing urged.
The Nazgul deftly ducked as I swung my blade. He let forth a satisfied hiss as his blade made it though my defense and struck my armor. Nothing happened. Except me bringing my arm down and striking off the hand which held his blade. He let out a wild shriek and stood, black smoke issuing from the truncated limb. Some force caused me to surge forward, pressing my advantage, quickly and efficiently carving up the unarmed Wraith into bloodless, dry chunks. In moments, it was over. I wheezed pretty hard inside my armor. I could feel Goldwings’ smile in my mind again. Then, the blue clad figure was beside me.
“Excellent job, Daniel. I knew Alatar and I picked the right man for the job.” He was smiling and nodding, rocking back and forth on the heels and toes of his feet.
“You brought me here?” I said, straightening up.
“Yes. And modified your iron horse into something more in keeping with the territory.” He beamed.
“Thanks…SO much.”
*well, I thank you sincerely, anyway.* my armor/horse/former cycle said.
“You are both quite welcome. Now, if I might make a suggestion, would you mind heading for Helm’s Deep? I believe Theoden could use your brand of help.”
“Uh, how to I get my horse back?” I asked.
*i can handle that.* and Goldwing stood beside me, looking at our “benefactor.”
*Pallandro, correct?*
The man appeared startled.
“Why yes.”
*ah. another wizard. i cross referenced it when he mentioned the name of your friend, Alatar. they don’t appear in the Ring books, directly.*the last was directed at me, I guessed.
“Wizard. Like Saruman.” I said.
The blue figure frowned.
“Please. More on the order of Radagast. Although of lesser stature.” The wizard said, modestly, with a slight bow and a smile.
“Can’t tell it by what you’ve done with me.” I shrugged.
“Weeeell, we all have our specialties. Cross-Curtain Dimensional Relocation is one of mine. Altar did the technological conversion bits. Voila! You’re here and properly equipped.”
“A bit of training would have been helpful.” I grumbled under my breath, looking down at the ground and the hacked up bits of Wraith that lay strewn about my feet.
“I’d say you did QUITE well enough. Even I can’t tell you when the last time a mortal man defeated a Black Rider.”
*never.* my horse said, carefully examining the chunks on the ground. *all the Wraiths appeared in the battle at Gondor. the Witch King was destroyed by Lady Eowyn. the rest die when Sauron perishes after Frodo chucks the ring into Mount Doom. No man has ever killed one. we’ve altered the story. here. pick this up. i have no fingers to do it.* he nudge the armored hand of the creature that I had initially hacked off.
I walked over and leaned down, Pallandro frowned. The armor came off of the hand easily, to reveal a shriveled, mummified hand, bearing a simple ring on the ring finger.
“One of the Nine.” I said. I removed it from the hand of my deceased opponent.
“It would contain all of his experiences, all his memories, everything that he would have remembered from his ages of life.” The wizard murmured.
“But not his spirit? His personality?” I asked, turning it over and examining it in detail. It was silverish. Or maybe platinum. Not gold, like the One. I could discern no writing upon it.
“No. It was linked to Sauron by the corruption of his soul. And through each’s power, Sauron corrupted and controls them all. May I see it, please?” he asked politely.
I nodded and dropped the ring into his outstretched hand.
He flinched only slightly. And was silent but a moment before continuing to speak.
“Khamûl, the Black Easterling. Second in stature of his Wraiths.”
*not bad! we capped Sauron’s number two.* the horse said proudly.
“Indeed.” The wizard said, handing me back the ring.
I held it in my hand for a moment, then slipped it on. I blinked rapidly, as information flooded my mind. Most of it, of a NOT so pleasant nature. Shuddering, I took it off.
“yuck. It makes me feel ill.”
“Yes.” Pallando said, “Whereas a man of THIS reality that put on that ring, would immediately fall under Sauron’s control. You just feel queasy. And am I correct in my thinking that you can see Khamûl’s life, and the powers of his ring?”
Hesitantly, I put the ring back on again. It immediately left a bad taste in my mouth. But, I dealt with it and concentrated. A menu sprang up before me, floating in midair, like a list of choices on a computer screen.
“Yes.”
“I would practice using that, and the information therein, if I were you. It will be invaluable to you in the battles to come.”
“I was never much of a warrior-type. Despite the cycle.” I chuckled, looking at the wizard.
“We know. But your mindset will help you all the more. Less chance of you being corrupted by the Dark Forces you will be pitted against. Power means nothing to you, so you will not be tempted by it.”
“The same can be said of YOU, can it not?” I smiled.
The wizard chuckled.
“Not all of us, I’m afraid, as you know. As a result, we are not permitted to utilize the rings. Although Saruman does not HAVE one, he has already been ruined by the Dark Lord.”
“OH yeah. But he’s about to get his ass kicked, I would imagine.”
“…Yes. Interesting way to put it. Treebeard and the other Ents are marching on Orthanc, even as we speak. That is why you must hasten to the battle at Helm’s Deep. Your assistance there will be invaluable to King Theoden. With your intervention, many of the lives of his warriors will be spared. “
I shifted feet uncomfortably. “How?”
“With the tools we have given you, and the ring on your finger, you are a far more formidable opponent than any HUNDRED Uruk-hai.”
I nodded.
“I see your point, although I don’t know if I believe in it. I’m used to being ME. Not a major instrument of destruction.”
Pallando smiled.
“THAT is why you are perfect for this job. You have the ability, without the ego.”
I rolled my eyes and easily mounted Goldwing. Already, the ring’s built in memory was filtering in. I still was hoping the wizard was correct in his assessment of WHAT the ring contained. I had no desire to become a New black rider.
*you won’t.* my mount grunted and sprang forward, streaking I guessed, in the direction of Helm’s Deep, and Theoden’s embattle army.
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