AN: There is both a Hobbit and Silmarillion connection to this story, which I've previously alluded to and which is also explored in other side stories. It comes out in full in this chapter, then it disappears again next chapter.

AN 2: Playing with a new POV in this chapter. It was surprisingly hard not to write strictly in stream of consciousness … not entirely happy with the outcome but at this point I'm just staring at it. So happy early upload!


Heart seemingly in his throat, Bones pushed aside the frantic calls coming from the engineers and did his best to focus on the forms solidifying on the transporter pads. As the shapes tightened, he was first able to make out Spock, then Kirk and Pike – both of whom collapsed almost instantly.

He and the senior medtech on hand took over immediately, tricorders out, quickly scanning and noting both Kirk's wound and the captain's unresponsiveness. In spite of his blatant injury, Kirk was the first to speak, his voice pained.

"Nice timing. I'm beginning to think you could beam anything from any place to anywhere …" He tiredly looked around. "What's wrong?"

"Hold still Jim," Bones said absently, focused on the captain's barely conscious form. He nearly cursed at the readout. "We're gonna need neurogenic stimulators and" – here he made a face as his scanner locked onto a small dark shape pressed tightly against the captain's spine – "cord sheath protection. Let's prep him for surgery. We're gonna have to do repair, rejuve, and extraction at the same time."

"Where's Harriet?" Spock's voice cut across the room sharply. Bones didn't dare look away from what he was doing but he was sure the look on Scotty's face would say it all.

"I don', I jus, I've ne'er beamed two targets from two places onto the same pad before," Scotty started. "And both targets in motion at that. Three…" The Scott faltered. "We couldn't lock on," he finished weakly.

"Wait, what do you mean you couldn't lock on?!" Jim asked wildly, clearly barely holding onto consciousness.

"We need to get you both to medical Jim." He said firmly as the techs maneuvered captain Pike onto the transport. Hesitantly, he turned to Spock. "Captain?"

Spock looked down, for a moment a semblance of his distress very visible to everyone in the room. Then, he took a deep breath. "I am … unharmed. Report when the captain is stable. Mr. Scott, engineering. I will be on the bridge."

The tightness in Bones chest only became tighter as he forced himself to rush after the medtechs.


She was floating, of that much she was certain. Where? When? She wasn't sure.

Was she dead?

Was THIS what it finally took for her to reach the end of her long, long, too long life?

If so, she felt justified in being annoyed.

'Would there be a train station this time?' Where would the train take her?

As she floated along, and nothing continued to happen, she gradually realized two things: one, she was breathing just fine and, two, her eyes were closed. She opened them slowly, taking in the blackness of space, of the near and distant stars seemingly surrounding her.

For a moment, she began to panic. Then she noticed something was missing.

'Whatever happened to the Narada?'

'Whatever happened to me?'

'Did I … travel?'

'No, wait… Death… where was Death?' She was certain she had heard Death's very distinct voice. That had been new…

She stretched out her senses in search of her magic and found herself wrapped tightly in it, as if wrapped up in a cloak. Death's own cloak to boot. It was oddly comforting…

She sighed. Where was she?

… did this new place coffee?

"You should not be so accepting."

Harriet didn't even bother to search for the source of the voice. "I'm not accepting, I'm waiting." She was also struggling to face a very likely truth: that she had left behind far more than she'd lost in a long time and it hurt – or it would when she deigned to deal with it.

"But what are you waiting for?"

A spike of anger pierced through the apathy Harriet was attempting to wrap herself in. "What do you mean, 'what am I waiting for?'! As if I have any control in this!"

"You are my Master," the voice rasped.

"Am I?" she wondered angrily. "Because it doesn't seem like it!"

"You are my Master," came the simple reply. "I shall always spare you."

She deflated. This conversation, and her situation, was too old at this point for her to muster much more than wariness and resignation whenever she confronted it. And annoyance.

True annoyance: this time she'd gotten close… too close to what she just knew she was going to have to leave behind anyway.

"It is time."

"For what?" she whispered back, the annoyancehurtpain threatening to overwhelm her thin layer of control…

"To rest."

Harriet gave up and let her irritation flow.

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

A single point of light began to grow stronger and stronger in the distance, as if it were traveling closer to her position on purpose.

"You are at a crossroads."

Wait, so, this wasn't reality, or any reality within which one actually existed? Why change the desktop theme? The train station worked just fine!

"Rest."

The cloak almost seemed to snuggle closer to her as a ghostly hand gently shut her eyes.


The instant Spock reappeared on the bridge, Sulu surrendered the captain's chair to return to his own post at the helm. Chekov was reporting excitedly even before Spock resumed his seat.

"Keptin! The enemy ship is losing power and … its shields are down!" He looked toward the command chair. "All of them! They're defenseless."

All eyes turned toward Spock, and instantly decided something was wrong.

"Lock phasers. Fire all weapons."

A few crewmembers shifted uncomfortably even as they rushed to fulfil the order. There was just something about Spock's tone when he gave the order that made them feel as if they were being particularly vicious.

Nonetheless, a massive burst was unloaded in the direction of the struggling Narada. Already weakened by previous attacks, its shields down, and succumbing to the relentless pull of the anomaly, one detonation after another began to tear the huge ship to pieces.

It truly seemed as if their continued assault was excessive…

Then the Narada lost what remained of its drive and began to disintegrate, collapsing into the singularity.

The Narada, Nero, and everyone else on board who had taken part in the destruction of multiple Federation starships and the planet Vulcan – were gone.

The intense look of satisfaction on Spock's face made those few on the bridge who could see it, even more uncomfortable. The look, however, was swiftly replaced with a more schooled expression.

"Mr. Scott, divert all possible power to the main engines."

"Aye, Captain!" came the fierce reply.

A slight quiver ran through the length of the Enterprise as her weapons systems and shields were drawn down so that all power could be directed to the engines. The ship was rammed into warp. Yet the ship's position relative to the system-departing anomaly did not change. It did not fall inward in the wake of the Narada and the Enterprise was unable to pull away.

The very fabric of the ship itself began to vibrate as it threatened to succumb to the enormous gravitational forces clawing at its superstructure.

Spock stared at the main monitor. The view aft showed the all-devouring monster to which the red matter had given birth.

"Maximum warp, Mr. Sulu."

"We are Sir!" Sulu reported.

"Captain!" Scott's voice resounded over the bridge speakers. "We're caught on the edge of the gravity well! It's got us!" He raised his voice to be heard over the straining whine of engines. "I'm givin' 'er all she's got, Captain!"

"It is insufficient."

"If we eject the core, the wave front when it detonates against the singularity might be enough to kick us clear – if it doesn't kill us. And if that fails, then we'll be without drive power! We'll be sucked in for certain!"

Spock looked over to the helm. "Helm, status."

"Still holding position relative to the anomaly, Captain. If we don't break free soon, we'll begin to lose ground incrementally until we pass the gravitational point of no return!"

"Do it Mr. Scott," he said in an oddly flat voice. "We're dead anyway."


When she came to a second time, she was floating alongside a glorious ship, vaguely shaped in the form of a swan, with translucent silver sails and a wooden hull that glowed with starlight.

"Lo! Hari Aewen," a male voice called out to her. "Come, sister, take my hand and come aboard."

'Sister?' Hari wondered. Still slightly dazed, she reached out a hand, only vaguely wondering about its freedom. 'Could it be…?' The voice didn't seem quite right though …

A strong hand reached out and grabbed her own, pulling her up and over the low rail of the vessel. She did her best to assist but could do little more than swing her limbs about as she scrabbled aboard until she was on all four limbs, taking a deep breath.

"There we are young one. Breathe."

Breathe. She could breathe. Was this her new reality? Had she travelled? But he'd called her Aewen… and young one of all things… was she… back?

The male crouched down next to her as she continued to puzzle out her new surroundings.

"There Aewen. Just take a moment to breathe." She didn't recognize the voice but, again, the name…

Harriet sat back on her heels and slowly turned her head to look at her new companion. He looked… familiar, somehow. Her confusion must have been clear on her face, for he smiled, then gave a short laugh.

"Ah. Perhaps you will recognize this?" He pointed to the crown on his head, adorned with a jewel of starlight on his brow, and suddenly Harriet knew.

Eärendil.

How could he possibly…?

Eärendil smiled at her. "There now, I am a friend."

Harriet stared, wonder and confusion and longing warring within her. "We've never met," she managed to get out.

"No. Nor do I think we ever properly shall. However, that does not mean we do not know each other."

Harriet frowned. What did that mean? "You're as bad as your sons," she decided.

He laughed merrily at her, then stood and began walking back to the helm of the ship.

Her frown stayed with her as she looked closer at the vessel. She noted its timber and silver lanterns; it's silver sails and fashioned prow. "This is Vingilótë," she announced. This could not be Gil-Estel…

"Not quite," came Eärendil's voice. He was standing at the helm now, strong and confident but relaxed. "Come, Hari Aewen. My journey is ever long. Come, ask your questions."

"My questions?" She wondered from her spot sat on the deck.

"I am certain at least one drives our meeting, for it to occur amongst the stars no less."

Indeed, what strange development was this, that she would meet the father of the twins and not one of the twins themselves?

Harriet thought about her recent conversation with Death, such as it was.

"This isn't real," she decided.

He smiled calmly at her. "As real as any who are destined to meet amongst the stars and not beneath them."

She settled more comfortably upon the deck and considered her options. If it was questions she was meant to ask, then so be it.

"Why appear upon this version of Vingilótë, and not as Gil- Estel?" she began.

His smile became a bit less pleasant, but still held. "Because, here, in this realm touched by Mandos, I can choose not to."

'In this realm touched by Mandos'…

She was dead then, in some sense of the word, for this could only be another form of Kings Cross. It explained, after a fashion, why the light had been headed her direction – it must have been the ship coming in…What did it mean that she had already boarded the ship? That the ship was being steered in some unknown direction?

After a time, she settled on her next question.

"Why would you still choose to wander the stars indefinitely if you could choose otherwise?"

"I may not have been the one to make the choice to live for eternity, but I was the one who choose to follow the one who did."

Harriet snorted inelegantly. She had made neither of those decisions, much less gone willingly.

His face took on a slightly tired edge but his small smile remained. "That is not to say, I do not enjoy a good rest when it is offered."

"A rest? This?" How in Merlin's name was eternally piloting a ship across the heavens a rest?

The elf merely chuckled at her expression. "It comes in many different forms but I am always grateful that it comes." Harriet continued to look at the Mariner disbelievingly. He gave a small laugh, still holding the helm steady. "I would not have chosen the long life of the Eldar, but my fair Elwing did, forcing me to choose between the short but bright life of men that promised an end to my weariness and a life, an eternity devoid ever seeing her again. In the end, I chose the option that I could live with. There has been sorrow and grief, yes, and I will not deny that I am weary of my nightly task, but the choosing of Elwing over no Elwing, I shall never regret.

"Rest, Ranaewen," he said softly, "you need not chose hastily."

'Choose? Choose between what?'

He quietly began to slowly sing a lullaby she vaguely remembered from her time living with Maedros and the twins:

Sun sets, little one

Time to dream.

Was she finally being given the choice to actually rest? To see her loved ones? To move on? To finally feel what it meant to be mortal?

Your mind journeys,

But I will hold you here.

No, Death had clearly stated he would always spare her. He/she/it would always keep her.

'Argh!' Then what choice did she truly have?!

Where will you go, little one,

Lost to me in sleep?

Was it a choice between returning to the last reality and moving on to the next?

Staying or going? Going or staying?

It would not be the first time she returned to a reality she had thought lost to her. It was, afterall, how she had gained the twins. But it would be the first time she had effectively died first…

But was that really the choice? It seemed too simple…

Of course she would choose…well, she would choose Spock, wouldn't she, if it were that simple…

But was it?

Seek truth in a forgotten land,

Deep within your heart.

Why Eärendil of all people to greet her? She wondered sleepily (why was she so tired?)

She remembered her first meeting with Maedros, upon the shore, where he condemned himself to eternally lament his actions and loss. He had become the embodiment of regret, trapped in his own mind, ever wandering the shores in search of an outlet.

Is that where she was headed? Is that why They chose Eärendil, who lived in spite of his decisions?

Who chose love and devotion and purpose and held on to each even as he discharged his eternal duty?

Never fear, little one,

Wherever you shall go.

Follow my voice-

I will call you home.

I will call you home.

Where was home? Or was it more appropriate to ask who was home? Could she make the choice Eärendil had made? What would be the cost?

"Rest."


A loud crack startled the crew remaining in the transporter room. Yet what startled them more, was the body that fell seemingly out of the ceiling onto the pad surface and did not stir.

Surprised, but remembering what had happened before, a tech quickly approached the body, identified it, and cautiously checked for a pulse.

"Get medical!"


Prompt: Harriet sings Mir Da'Len Sominar to a child to put them to sleep [partial fill for guest]; The "Auld Acquaintance she forgot..." cameos to her mind (partial fill for Josantos); Spot the Dr Who reference