(no subject)
Elrond closed his eyes. Opened them. “Then we must find them,” he said crisply. “Where are my sons? Tell them to gather warriors and search the House high and low. Gather anyone who is unable to defend themselves in the Great Hall - that includes Lindir, Glorfindel. Don’t let him feed you that foolish line about braining anyone with his harp, he’d brain himself before he’d let any harm come to that thing.” He whirled back to Erestor. “Has anyone been injured?
One of the guardsmen - Calanon, Elrond recalled - stepped forward. “Aegnor was guarding them. He appears to be asleep, but otherwise unharmed.”
“A head injury?” asked Elrond.
“No,” said Calanon, slightly puzzled. “Just . . . unconscious. But he cannot have fallen asleep at his post, because Ciryon, guarding the hallway just beyond him, was the same.”
“Very well,” Elrond said, eyes narrowed. “Regardless of what transpired, we must find them. And hastily.”
****************************
“The architecture here is quite impressive for what appears to be a technologically primitive society,” Spock said. “It is quite fascinating.”
“Beautiful, you mean?” Kirk said slyly.
Spock turned to look at him. “Contrary to your implications, Captain,” he said, a bit coldly. “Vulcans are quite capable of understanding and appreciating beauty. Yes, this house and its surroundings are very aesthetically pleasing - as are its inhabitants.”
Kirk was pretty sure he detected a silent fuck you, Captain, somewhere in that sentence, and he congratulated himself on a job well done.
And of course, it was as Kirk was smirking at his first officer, not paying the least attention to where he was going, that he managed to walk out of a door into a courtyard, and end up face to face with five of the aliens. Including the blond one who had captured them in the first place.
Two of them immediately had their bows trained on him. Their original captor and a dark haired one drew their swords.
Kirk couldn’t believe that he was either going to get shot with an arrow or killed with a fucking sword. It was so ridiculous it was kind of embarrassing.
Spock calmly stepped down beside him. “Well, Captain,” he said. “It appears that we have been recaptured.”
Kirk’s eye twitched. “Thank you, Mr. Spock, for stating the obvious.”
The alien who had not drawn his weapon tilted his head and stepped forward a little as he took in Spock’s appearance. His dark hair was swept back with a silver circlet, and he wore what looked like to Kirk to be a sort of overly cumbersome bathrobe or dress or something. And he literally breathed authority.
“So, Glorfindel spoke the truth,” said Elrond. “You are not of the race of elves. Neither do you appear to speak any tongue recognized on Middle Earth.” He raised an intimidating eyebrow.
“It is intriguing that they refer to themselves using a word that humans use to speak of a species of myth,” Spock said. He raised an eyebrow too.
The aliens’ grip on their bows tightened.
“Spock,” Kirk said through clenched teeth, “you’re supposed to be the one lecturing me about provoking people who’re trying to kill us, not the other way around.”
“I am not provoking, Captain. I merely find it find it fascinating that their linguistic . . . patterns . . .” he trailed off, looking upward. “What unfortunate timing.”
“The hell? Spock, what-”
And then Scotty’s delayed universal translator plummeted out of the sky and hit Lord Elrond on the head, as all hell broke loose.
“Lord Elrond!” Erestor shouted, catching him as he sagged to the ground. The warriors let loose their arrows, and Spock shoved Kirk out of the way just in time, catching a graze on his left arm. Kirk stumbled, then struck out at one of the archers, who dropped the bow, blocking Kirk’s attack with ease.
Spock kicked out at the other archer, knocking the bow from his hands. His opponent slid out of the way, then threw a punch. Spock shifted backwards, letting the alien overbalance a little, then grabbed his arm and pulled him. But instead of the expected throw, Spock’s fingers grasped for the meeting between neck and shoulder. However, the alien followed his movements and rolled, wrenching out of Spock’s grasp and crushing the communicator that had fallen out of Kirk’s pocket.
Glorfindel growled. “How dare you attack Lord Elrond,” he said menacingly, stalking towards them. He raised his sword.
And stepped on the slightly dented universal translator just as Kirk said (in a rather whiny voice, as Spock would later recall in front of the entire Bridge, the asshole), “Look, it’s not our fault that Scotty beamed the damn thing in the middle of the atmosphere, you crazy pointy-eared bastard!”
Glorfindel froze. “Valar!” he swore. He stared at Kirk and then lifted his foot and stared at the piece of machinery under it. Slowly, he reached down to grasp the translator.
“Are you mad, Glorfindel?” Erestor said in a strangled voice, still supporting Elrond’s slumped form. “What-“
“Speak again,” Glorfindel commanded, still staring hard at Kirk.”
For a moment, there was utter silence, except for the strangling noises Erestor was still making behind Glorfindel’s back.
“Um,” Kirk said, licking suddenly dry lips.
Spock lowered his arms and relaxed his stance. He stepped forward. Glorfindel’s eyes flickered to him. “You will find that you now have the capability to understand any of our linguistic dialects,” he said. “Although simply Federation Standard would suffice.”
“Erestor,” Glorfindel said, still not taking his eyes of the two Federation officers. “Come here. I need you to tell me I’m not crazy.”
“Look Glorfindel, I’m kind of busy,” Erestor said, jaw clenched and indicating Elrond, who was still out cold. “And you want me to tell you you’re not crazy?”
“Just come here,” Glorfindel said. “Just put Elrond on the ground - he’ll be fine - and come over here and touch this.”
Erestor glared at him as he gently handed Elrond off to Calanon and stood, brushing off his robes. “Fine,” he said. He walked over to Glorfindel, who held out the translator, and laid a long finger over it.
“Great,” Kirk said. “Spock, does that thing even work for two?”
Erestor almost jumped.
“The translator is touch sensitive,” Spock said, “While our own are implants, this one is designed to impart the linguistic message through a series of nerve burst through the hand that travel directly to the brain via the nervous system; a much more sophisticated version of what essentially used to be known on Earth as Morse Code. Theoretically, it is not even necessary for the language to rely on sound waves in order for it to be understood, as long as the translator contains the correct data necessary to replicate the syntax and grammatical structure for the recipients’ brain-”
“Yes or no, Spock.”
“Yes Captain. They should both be able to understand us. Just as we can understand them.”
“Who-” Glorfindel began, then jumped back, grabbing Erestor by the wrist to yank him back as well, as two shapes began to materialize directly in front of them.
“Quick, Jim,” McCoy said, as soon as he was able to speak. “Scotty says we’ve only got about two minutes before this . . . universe . . . is out of synch with our own again. He said something about alternate realities too, but I’m not a damned physicist and I swear half the time he isn’t even speaking English, and WHAT is with Santa’s helpers and the toothfairy?” He eyeballed both elves suspiciously and prudently stepped out of reach of Glorfindel’s sword arm.
Kirk’s jaw worked, “The Prime Directive, Bones!” he managed to hiss, “You’re supposed to do the beaming thing elsewhere as in not right here!” He slumped, “God, Starfleet’s going to kill me. And why the hell did you beam down here instead of just beaming us up?”
“I am not a fairy,” Erestor said dangerously. “I am an elf.”
“Oh, that’s much better,” McCoy said. Kirk flailed a bit at his nonchalance. “And if you had noticed, Captain, your communicator’s crushed - we just had to send someone down to your last coordinates because half our sensors are offline!”
“Interesting,” said Uhura. “Their language appears to have a syntax almost identical to Finnish.”
“Captain,” said Spock. “It would seem practical to evacuate immediately, before it becomes impossible for Mr. Scott to retrieve us.”
“Now that, Spock, is logical,” Kirk said, still glaring at Bones. He looked over to Glorfindel and Erestor, “Look,” he said, “sorry about the confusion and all. And we’d uh, like to stay longer, but the universe is kind of moving along and we don’t want to miss getting back into the right one. Star travel to do and all. Sorry about possibly tainting your future society with our very presence and all that.” He snagged McCoy’s communicator and spoke into it. “Beam us up, Mr. Scott,” he said.
Spock turned back to them and held up his hand. “Live long and prosper,” he said solemnly.
And they all shimmered and vanished.
The elves stared at the space the strangers had been occupying, and then at each other.
Glorfindel opened his mouth to speak, but a groan from Elrond silenced him. He turned and hurried back towards his friend.
“What . . . happened?” Elrond managed.
Glorfindel crouched down next to him, Erestor on the other side. “You were hit on the head,” he said. “By some sort of device. It just appeared in the sky. Here.” He handed the translator over to Elrond, who took it.
“And the strangers?” he asked, as he felt the tender top of his head for a bump. He grimaced as he discovered a rather large one.
“Vanished,” Erestor said, lips pursed. “They said,” he hesitated, glancing at Glorfindel. “They said they traveled the stars.”
Elrond blinked and sat up as quickly as he could, wincing as his head pounded. “The stars?” he said breathlessly.
“Aye,” Glorfindel said.
Elrond stared at him for a long moment, eyes full of some sort of wild hope. “Did they-?”
Glorfindel felt as though a fist were slowly squeezing the inside of his chest. He shook his head, “No, my friend,” he said, laying a gentle hand on Elrond’s shoulder. “They did not speak of Eärendil.”
******************************
Back on the Enterprise, Spock suddenly turned to Kirk.
“Captain,” he said, “did you remember to retrieve the universal translator?”
Kirk stared at him. “No,” he said. “I thought you did. Uhura?”
“No,” she said.
“Well,” said McCoy, stomping his way off the platform. “There goes the Prime Directive.”
End
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