Air rushed into my lungs with such force that I doubled over, coughing blood onto the damp earth. Every muscle in my body screamed as though death itself had refused to let go without a fight.
The forest was silent.
No birds.
No insects.
Only the steady rhythm of rain falling through the leaves.
I forced myself onto one knee.
"...I'm alive."
Neither alive... nor dead.
The voice echoed inside my mind.
Not around me.
Within me.
Celebrimbor.
I let out a weary laugh.
"I suppose I'll have to get used to that."
In time.
I looked down at my chest.
The mail beneath my torn surcoat had been pierced clean through.
The crossbow bolt still lay beside me where it had fallen.
There should have been a wound.
There wasn't.
Only dried blood remained beneath the ragged hole in my gambeson.
I climbed slowly to my feet.
My legs trembled beneath me.
Every instinct told me to return north.
To the inn.
To Father.
To Mother.
To Damon.
To Fairmarket.
But another thought followed close behind.
The hooded rider.
Someone had wanted Ser Talion Rivers removed.
'most likely the lannisters' i thought grimly
For everyone I loved.
I closed my eyes.
"They're safer believing I'm dead."
Celebrimbor answered almost immediately.
A painful truth.
"It doesn't make it easier."
No.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
It felt wrong.
Leaving everything behind.
Leaving my family without answers.
Leaving Damon without even a farewell.
"You trained me for eight years."
My voice cracked.
"And I can't even say goodbye."
For several moments Celebrimbor remained silent.
Then...
The burdens of the living often outweigh those of the dead.
I smiled bitterly.
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
No.
"...Good."
We walked until the sun began to sink.
The Kingsroad remained nearby, though I stayed within the shelter of the trees.
Travelers passed.
Merchants.
A septon.
Two hedge knights.
None spared a glance toward the muddy youth hidden among the undergrowth.
Without my cloak...
Without my sword...
Without my horse...
I looked no different from any other orphan wandering the Riverlands.
For the first time in years...
No one recognized me.
It was an unsettling feeling.
As evening settled over the land, I found the ruins of an abandoned shepherd's hut.
Its roof had long since collapsed, but one corner remained dry enough to shelter from the rain.
I gathered fallen branches and managed a small fire.
The warmth felt wonderful.
For several minutes neither of us spoke.
Then curiosity finally overcame me.
"So..."
Silence.
"...What now?"
Celebrimbor appeared opposite the fire, his spectral form illuminated by the dancing flames.
Though only I could see him.
We learn.
"Learn what?"
This world.
He looked into the darkness beyond the ruined walls.
It is not mine.
"It isn't."
Its history is unfamiliar.
"I can help with that."
His gaze shifted back to me.
And I can help you survive it.
I nodded slowly.
"Fair enough."
The silence returned.
Then another question came to mind.
"Can anyone else see you?"
No.
"Hear you?"
Depends
"Can you... fight?"
A faint smile touched the ancient elf's face.
Yes
Outside, rain drummed steadily against the broken stones of the abandoned shepherd's hut.
For a long while, neither of us spoke.
Celebrimbor stood near the doorway, his translucent form gazing into the darkness beyond. He looked... distant.
Lost.
I couldn't blame him.
One moment he had been battling Sauron.
The next...
He had awakened in a world utterly foreign to him.
Finally, he spoke.
"You said you knew my story."
"I do."
"Yet I know nothing of yours."
I stared into the flames.
"Fair."
He turned to face me.
"Tell me of this land."
I poked at the fire with a stick.
"Where do I even begin?"
"At the beginning."
I laughed.
"You sound like Damon."
"Who is Damon?"
"My knight."
"...Was my knight."
The words still stung.
"He raised me from the time I was seven."
Celebrimbor inclined his head.
"Then honor his lessons."
I nodded.
"Right."
I drew a rough map in the dirt with the end of the stick.
"This continent is called Westeros."
I sketched a long shape stretching from north to south.
"It isn't the whole world."
"Just the part most people care about."
Celebrimbor knelt opposite me.
His glowing eyes followed every line.
"You came from a land called Middle-earth."
"I come from one called Westeros."
He studied the map.
"One kingdom?"
"Seven."
I corrected myself with a smile.
"Well..."
"One kingdom pretending to be seven."
That earned a curious look.
I marked the southern end.
"The King rules from King's Landing."
"A city built by the conqueror Aegon Targaryen almost three hundred years ago."
Celebrimbor frowned.
"Targaryen."
"The old royal family."
"They conquered the continent with dragons."
Even the ancient elf looked intrigued.
"Dragons."
"Real ones."
"They're extinct now."
"So far as everyone knows."
He was silent for a moment.
"A weapon greater than any army."
"Exactly."
I continued tracing the map.
"The current king is Robert Baratheon."
"He overthrew the Targaryens fifteen years ago."
"He was a great warrior."
"But..."
I sighed.
"He enjoys feasts more than ruling."
Celebrimbor's expression barely changed.
"A common failing among kings."
I pointed north.
"This is the North. The largest kingdom. It belongs to House Stark."
I smiled faintly.
"The Starks are good people."
"Honorable."
"Sometimes too honorable."
"Such men often die first."
I looked at him.
"...You've met many?"
His gaze drifted toward the fire.
"More than I wished.
I continued around the map.
"The Westerlands. Rich from gold. House Lannister."
"The Reach."
"The richest farmlands."
"The Vale."
"Mountains almost impossible to invade."
"The Stormlands."
"The Riverlands."
"My home."
I rested the stick against the crude drawing.
"Damon serves House Vypren."
"They're sworn to House Tully."
"The Tullys rule the Riverlands from Riverrun."
Celebrimbor nodded.
Celebrimbor studied the map.
"And they obey?"
I laughed.
"No."
He almost smiled.
"They fight."
"Constantly."
"Sometimes openly."
"Sometimes with marriages."
"Sometimes with poison."
"Sometimes with words."
Celebrimbor looked almost disappointed.
"Politics."
"The deadliest battlefield there is."
Celebrimbor studied the map.
"And your enemies?"
I frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"Every realm has them."
I thought for a moment.
"Bandits."
"The Ironborn."
"Wildlings beyond the Wall."
"Ambitious lords."
"They're all problems."
Celebrimbor waited.
"But they aren't the true enemy."
His eyes met mine.
"Go on."
I looked north, toward a Wall I had never seen.
"At the very top of Westeros stands a wall of ice."
"Hundreds of feet tall."
"It stretches from one sea to the other."
Celebrimbor frowned.
"Who built such a thing?"
"No one really knows."
"The stories say it was raised thousands of years ago with the help of giants and magic."
He remained silent.
"Most people believe it exists to keep the wildlings out."
"They're wrong."
"What does it keep out?"
"The White Walkers."
The words hung in the air.
Celebrimbor's expression became unreadable.
"Explain."
"They're ancient beings."
"They can raise the dead."
"They bring the cold with them."
"Every man they kill joins their army."
"They nearly wiped out mankind once before, thousands of years ago."
"And they're coming back."
The Elf-Lord didn't laugh.
He didn't dismiss the tale.
Instead, he became very still.
"You speak with certainty."
"I do."
"How?"
I hesitated.
How could I explain?
That, in another life, this world had been a story?
That I knew names, battles, betrayals, and deaths before they happened?
I couldn't.
Not yet.
"I've... seen enough to know."
It wasn't entirely a lie.
Celebrimbor studied me for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
"I have walked lands where the dead marched beneath a Dark Lord's command."
"Such things are not impossible."
I let out a slow breath.
"The problem is..."
"No one believes they're real."
"They think they're children's tales."
"The Night's Watch has become a punishment."
"The great houses fight over land, gold and crowns..."
"...while the real war waits in the far north."
Celebrimbor looked back toward the crude map.
"A familiar failing."
I raised an eyebrow.
"The Free Peoples of my world also quarreled while darkness gathered."
"Kings sought kingdoms."
"Lords sought power."
"Few looked beyond their own borders."
His gaze met mine again.
"Until it was almost too late."
I stared into the fire.
"I know many of the things that are going to happen."
He tilted his head.
"Many?"
"Not all."
"But enough."
"King Robert will die."
"The realm will tear itself apart."
"Five kings will wage war."
"The North will bleed."
"The Riverlands will burn."
"The Wall will be threatened."
"And all the while..."
I looked north once more.
"...the White Walkers will continue marching."
For the first time since our pact...
Celebrimbor looked at me with something approaching concern.
"If what you say is true..."
"...then this realm stands upon the edge of ruin."
"It does."
"And almost no one realizes it."
Silence settled between us.
Finally, Celebrimbor spoke.
"Then perhaps fate has brought us here for a reason."
I gave a humorless smile.
"I've never believed much in fate."
"Neither did I."
The ghostly Elf-Lord looked toward the northern horizon.
"Yet two souls from different worlds do not simply meet by chance."
Neither of us spoke for several minutes.
Celebrimbor stood with his hands folded behind his back, studying the darkness beyond the doorway.
I watched him in silence.
Finally...
"There is something I should say."
He turned toward me.
"Go on."
I met his eyes.
"I don't trust you."
The words hung in the air.
Celebrimbor didn't appear offended.
He merely regarded me with quiet curiosity.
"No?"
"No."
Another long silence followed.
"I know who you are."
"I know what you've done."
His expression became unreadable.
"You sought revenge against Sauron."
"I understand that."
"You forged another Ring."
"I understand why."
His gaze never left mine.
"But I also know what happened to the Ranger."
The faint breeze outside the hut suddenly died.
"The other Talion."
Recognition flickered across the Elf-Lord's face.
"You used him."
Silence.
"You promised him vengeance."
"You promised him freedom."
"You promised him justice."
I shook my head.
"And when Isildur fell..."
"...you abandoned him."
Celebrimbor looked away.
For the first time since we'd met...
He had no answer.
I continued.
"You chose power."
"You chose domination."
"You chose to leave the man who had carried you for years."
His voice, when it came, was quiet.
"You know much."
"I told you."
"I know your story."
Another silence.
Then...
"And yet..."
He looked back at me.
"...you still accepted my hand."
"I did."
"Why?"
I stared into the embers.
"Because despite everything..."
"...I also know what happens if I don't."
He waited.
"I stay dead."
A faint nod.
"And the White Walkers come."
Another nod.
"And Sauron defeated you."
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"So neither of us has the luxury of choosing another partner."
For the first time...
Celebrimbor actually smiled.
It wasn't a happy smile.
It was the smile of someone acknowledging an unpleasant truth.
"A practical answer."
"I learned from practical people."
"I want something understood."
Celebrimbor remained silent.
"If you ever try to use me."
"If you ever think I'm simply another body to wear."
"If you ever decide my will matters less than yours..."
I met his glowing blue eyes without flinching.
"I will fight you."
The hut fell completely silent.
The ancient Elf-Lord regarded me for what felt like an eternity.
Then...
He inclined his head.
A warrior acknowledging another.
"Good."
That answer surprised me.
"...Good?"
"Had you accepted me without question..."
"...I would have considered you a fool."
He stepped closer.
"Trust is not freely given."
"It is earned."
I folded my arms.
"Then you'll have to earn mine."
Celebrimbor looked into the fire.
When he spoke again...
His voice carried none of its usual pride.
"You are correct."
I blinked.
"...About what?"
"About Talion."
The name lingered in the silence.
"I failed him."
No excuses.
No denial.
The truth.
"I believed victory justified every sacrifice."
His eyes closed.
"By the time I understood my error..."
"...it was already too late."
For the first time, I didn't see the legendary smith.
Or the Lord of Eregion.
Or the maker of the Rings.
I saw a man burdened by centuries of regret.
It didn't erase what he'd done.
But it explained it.
"I can't promise I'll forgive you."
"I do not ask it."
"I probably never will."
"Perhaps not."
He opened his eyes again.
"But I will not betray another Talion."
I searched his face.
"You expect me to believe that?"
"No."
"...No?"
"I expect you to judge me by my actions."
That...
That sounded far more believable than promises.
I gave a slow nod.
"Fair enough."