So, what happens when someone reads Memories of Iron despite knowing nothing about Worm and then...
Memories of Celebrimbor (LOTR/MCU)
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So, what happens when someone reads Memories of Iron despite knowing nothing about Worm and then plays Shadow of Mordor the next day?
This.
This happened.
MCU meets the dubiously canon Shadow of Mordor LOTR. Might continue.
___________________________________
Once, long ago, on a world that no longer turns, there was a man, a wretched man, in a kingdom of fire and shadow, a man who could not die. A man who had betrayed, and been betrayed, a man despised and pitied, a man denied death for years unnumbered. On some worlds, this man avenged his wrongs, cut down the shadow and freed himself from his burden. On other worlds, he became a thing of shadow and flame, ever bound to the enemy he had sworn to defeat. On yet still unnumbered worlds, he lived in flesh still, a king of his race and a legend eternal. But this world...this world was unlike any of those others. On that world, he had failed, to fall or to rise. The one man who could have saved him lay dead in a pool of his own blood. A victim of the Enemy like so many others, a man who had served faithfully against a threat none saw coming.
Far far away, eyes like galaxies turned towards him, and a mind like the stars thought as it watched. It saw, it knew the fate of this world. It had always known, but it had not cared. Not until then. Eyes, other eyes, belonging to the same mind, turned towards another world, where a very similar man lay dying in a prison of metal and steel forged by his own hand, a man with a heart of iron and a mind greater than any other on his world. A world now touched by shadow, doomed without his help.
In seconds that passed in eons and centuries that passed in moments, it judged.
The being, if it can be called that, reached out with hands that did not exist. Worlds twisted and suns boiled, and the dead man and the iron man were one.
And so it was. So it had always been. So it would always be.
But there are things the galaxies cannot see, things the stars cannot comprehend. Things to come and things that must pass. A shadow, writhing and black, an eye gleaming in the dark, an Enemy reborn anew. An ancient war, fought on a new world. Gods that knelt and men that rose, shattered shields and the roar of lightning, a sky that burned and seas that boiled.
What is. What must be. What will always be.
__________________________
Anthony Stark was dying.
My heart thudded in my chest, pushing more precious blood out of the wound in my side. Twisted metal plates tore into my stomach, and I felt the fragments of metal slowly inch towards my heart, sliding past the dead arc reactor that jutted out of my chest, a macabre battery long dead.
I could have escaped. I could have lived. A suit of steel and iron, unlike anything before it. Unyielding. Unstoppable. I had torn through the insurgents, crushed windpipes like tissue paper and bones like twigs. It had been the grenade that had done me in. I had barely had time to read my own name embossed in silver on the side of the deadly package before it exploded, tearing through the weak seams of my armor like so much scrap. Perhaps if I'd spent a few more days reinforcing the metal, if I'd—
A soft, tearing pain ran through my chest.
That would be the metal, piercing my heart, my body. A few more moments, and I would be dead. Gone. I closed my eyes, sliding into darkness. Memories flashed through my mind, a final review of Tony Stark's greatest hits. Pepper, Rhodey, the things I might have had, could have had—
Who are you? WHO ARE YOU?
I blinked. Death visions, perhaps. That was quite possible. The last, mad scrabble of a dying mind. Odd. I didn't feel like I was going mad. Or like I was dying, to tell the truth. The pain was still there, but there...there was no end. No release. Life clung to me like a shadow, like the shadow that writhed in the back of my mind.
I was not alone.
"Who-"
Memories leapt out at me. Gold and gossamer, silver and scarlet, mountains, jewels, swords, each flashing by faster than I could even hope perceive, blurring together into one single shape, one memory that burned all others away.
A Ring. A ring that burned like fire and shone forever.
Whatever was in my mind shuddered and struck again, flowing through me, pulsing, ebbing into my heart. Into my mind. Memories slid by faster and faster, until a pale blue light filmed my body like a second skin. My hands rose up of their own will, pushed by some uncontrollable force, and gripped the sides of my armor. I let out a soft gasp as my fingers tore through the armor with with ease, cutting aside palladium-infused steel like a knife through butter.
Live. Rise.
Almost imperceptibly, I echoed the words that hummed in my ears, the words that beat in an endless refrain. The raspy cough of my voice moved almost in tandem with the thing within me as I freed myself from the tomb of steel and death I had made.
"Live..." My hands tore at my chest now, ripping off plates of metal like cloth, tearing with a strength I could not have, should not have, that no human should possibly ever have. Vaguely, I wondered what I had become.
Live. Rise.
"Rise..." With a roar that stung my throat, I tore my helmet off, freeing my head. The sky hung over me, blue and rich, and the stench of smoke stung my nostrils. I stumbled hesitantly to my feet, peeling off my armor as I walked, blood-soaked sand crunching under my bare feet. I felt the metal shards sink into my heart, tear through the cardiovascular walls. I felt the blood stop pumping through my veins, I felt my body die without dying as the thing within me, the impossible thing, reached it's hand, my hand, up, and curled a fist, my fist, around my dead arc reactor and pulled.
With a soft crunch, I felt my life's work, the thing that had sustained me for days on end, crumple like tissue paper in my touch, in his touch, in the gleaming blue light that wreathed my fingers. I could feel a sense of finality come over me as I gazed out over the insurgent camp, a dead thing wreathed in smoke and flame that baked in the desert sun.
Live. Rise.
As one, we spoke.
"Avenge."
My name is Tony Stark. I am dead. I will avenge my death.
This.
This happened.
MCU meets the dubiously canon Shadow of Mordor LOTR. Might continue.
___________________________________
Once, long ago, on a world that no longer turns, there was a man, a wretched man, in a kingdom of fire and shadow, a man who could not die. A man who had betrayed, and been betrayed, a man despised and pitied, a man denied death for years unnumbered. On some worlds, this man avenged his wrongs, cut down the shadow and freed himself from his burden. On other worlds, he became a thing of shadow and flame, ever bound to the enemy he had sworn to defeat. On yet still unnumbered worlds, he lived in flesh still, a king of his race and a legend eternal. But this world...this world was unlike any of those others. On that world, he had failed, to fall or to rise. The one man who could have saved him lay dead in a pool of his own blood. A victim of the Enemy like so many others, a man who had served faithfully against a threat none saw coming.
Far far away, eyes like galaxies turned towards him, and a mind like the stars thought as it watched. It saw, it knew the fate of this world. It had always known, but it had not cared. Not until then. Eyes, other eyes, belonging to the same mind, turned towards another world, where a very similar man lay dying in a prison of metal and steel forged by his own hand, a man with a heart of iron and a mind greater than any other on his world. A world now touched by shadow, doomed without his help.
In seconds that passed in eons and centuries that passed in moments, it judged.
The being, if it can be called that, reached out with hands that did not exist. Worlds twisted and suns boiled, and the dead man and the iron man were one.
And so it was. So it had always been. So it would always be.
But there are things the galaxies cannot see, things the stars cannot comprehend. Things to come and things that must pass. A shadow, writhing and black, an eye gleaming in the dark, an Enemy reborn anew. An ancient war, fought on a new world. Gods that knelt and men that rose, shattered shields and the roar of lightning, a sky that burned and seas that boiled.
What is. What must be. What will always be.
__________________________
Anthony Stark was dying.
My heart thudded in my chest, pushing more precious blood out of the wound in my side. Twisted metal plates tore into my stomach, and I felt the fragments of metal slowly inch towards my heart, sliding past the dead arc reactor that jutted out of my chest, a macabre battery long dead.
I could have escaped. I could have lived. A suit of steel and iron, unlike anything before it. Unyielding. Unstoppable. I had torn through the insurgents, crushed windpipes like tissue paper and bones like twigs. It had been the grenade that had done me in. I had barely had time to read my own name embossed in silver on the side of the deadly package before it exploded, tearing through the weak seams of my armor like so much scrap. Perhaps if I'd spent a few more days reinforcing the metal, if I'd—
A soft, tearing pain ran through my chest.
That would be the metal, piercing my heart, my body. A few more moments, and I would be dead. Gone. I closed my eyes, sliding into darkness. Memories flashed through my mind, a final review of Tony Stark's greatest hits. Pepper, Rhodey, the things I might have had, could have had—
Who are you? WHO ARE YOU?
I blinked. Death visions, perhaps. That was quite possible. The last, mad scrabble of a dying mind. Odd. I didn't feel like I was going mad. Or like I was dying, to tell the truth. The pain was still there, but there...there was no end. No release. Life clung to me like a shadow, like the shadow that writhed in the back of my mind.
I was not alone.
"Who-"
Memories leapt out at me. Gold and gossamer, silver and scarlet, mountains, jewels, swords, each flashing by faster than I could even hope perceive, blurring together into one single shape, one memory that burned all others away.
A Ring. A ring that burned like fire and shone forever.
Whatever was in my mind shuddered and struck again, flowing through me, pulsing, ebbing into my heart. Into my mind. Memories slid by faster and faster, until a pale blue light filmed my body like a second skin. My hands rose up of their own will, pushed by some uncontrollable force, and gripped the sides of my armor. I let out a soft gasp as my fingers tore through the armor with with ease, cutting aside palladium-infused steel like a knife through butter.
Live. Rise.
Almost imperceptibly, I echoed the words that hummed in my ears, the words that beat in an endless refrain. The raspy cough of my voice moved almost in tandem with the thing within me as I freed myself from the tomb of steel and death I had made.
"Live..." My hands tore at my chest now, ripping off plates of metal like cloth, tearing with a strength I could not have, should not have, that no human should possibly ever have. Vaguely, I wondered what I had become.
Live. Rise.
"Rise..." With a roar that stung my throat, I tore my helmet off, freeing my head. The sky hung over me, blue and rich, and the stench of smoke stung my nostrils. I stumbled hesitantly to my feet, peeling off my armor as I walked, blood-soaked sand crunching under my bare feet. I felt the metal shards sink into my heart, tear through the cardiovascular walls. I felt the blood stop pumping through my veins, I felt my body die without dying as the thing within me, the impossible thing, reached it's hand, my hand, up, and curled a fist, my fist, around my dead arc reactor and pulled.
With a soft crunch, I felt my life's work, the thing that had sustained me for days on end, crumple like tissue paper in my touch, in his touch, in the gleaming blue light that wreathed my fingers. I could feel a sense of finality come over me as I gazed out over the insurgent camp, a dead thing wreathed in smoke and flame that baked in the desert sun.
Live. Rise.
As one, we spoke.
"Avenge."
My name is Tony Stark. I am dead. I will avenge my death.
Last edited:
- Location
- Texas
The Khash Desert, Afghanistan
I felt sand burning underneath my feet, felt dunes shift under my every step. I knew I should be hungry, that by now my body should have burned the last of the meager proteins I gathered from the gruel the insurgents had fed me earlier that morning, a morning that felt so long ago now. Every part of my logical mind screamed that I should be crawling in the sand, dying, if not dead already. Temperatures in this part of the desert easily reached high enough that I should have baked to death hours earlier. Whatever had happened to me, it defied everything I knew.
Again, I prodded at the thing in my mind, the...presence. If I was searching for answers, I would have to begin here, with whatever or whoever it was. An artificial intelligence? Some sort of alternate personality, perhaps? My brain burned, humming with questions. Questions, that, for almost the first time in memory, I could not answer. I reached out, mentally prodding the entity.
Who are you?, I queried for the fourth time in almost as many minutes. What are you?
Silence.
"Great." I muttered out loud. "Do you have a name, at least?"
Like a switch had been flipped, the presence roared to life, surging through me, enveloping my entire body in a rush of power that was nearly euphoric. My skin turned pale and blue, and I could see the shifting desert sands through my translucent hand. I fell to my knees in the desert sand, unable to staunch the raw energy that was leaping through me. A voice like stones grinding echoed in my head.
I am Celebrimor.
Around me, ruins rose from the sands, buildings of unearthly white and blue. The curved domes and spires towered into the air. The architecture was ancient. Early Persian or Sumerian in make, but where they stood in the real world, the physical world, there was only sand and dust.
"What are these?"
Memories of great temples raised up in worship of great kings. I see them as they once were, foundations of light glimmering in the desert.
"Melodramatic much?"
There was silence, and moments passed before Celebrimbor spoke again.
These are not my ruins. Not my memories. I see much in the the world of the dead, but there is much even I do not know. I walked of old in Mordor, in the land of shadow where all lights fail.
"I'll take that as a yes, then.", I muttered under my breath.
"Why are you here? Why me?"
I came to this world of steel and glass through a veil of shadow. I remember darkness, wandering in night without ending. And then a light, flickering in the dark. A life, guttering to a meager end like a flame extinguish. You drew me here, Anthony. And I drew you to me. You have been wronged. We both have been wronged.
You were betrayed, Stark.
Memories ran through my head, my own this time. Gunfire and smoke, screaming and death. My escort, gunned down protecting me, gunned down like Yinsen, who gave his life for mine. Blood pounded in my ears, like the blood I knew stained my hands, and I could feel a red-hot coil of anger burning in my gut. What were the chances of that specific insurgent cell happening upon the one convoy containing the U.S Army's primary weapons manufacturer? No.
No, I had been betrayed, from the inside. I felt Celebrimbor surging up within me, in time with my anger, in time with my heartbeat.
I can help you find your enemy. When you have your vengeance, your spirit will be absolved. You can die in peace, and I...I can go home., he crooned into my ear. He seemed insistent. Forceful. For the slightest of moments, I hesitated.
Faintly, I could feel the wind and sand picking up around my physical body, feel my hair being blown backward by whipping gusts of wind. As the black chopper rose above me, I nodded. As Rhodey's voice echoed down at me over the echoing sound of the blades, I spoke.
"Yes."
I felt Celebrimbor smile, felt him nod in return, felt him fade back into the corners of my mind. The ghostly azure towers faded away, and color and light returned to the world. The chopper blades were deafening now, and I instinctively raised my arm to shield my face from the buffeting wind and sand. I grinned up at Rhodey's weary face, and I could feel my lips moving. But inside, inside I felt cold. Empty.
I felt dead.
____________________
Pepper
Manhattan, Three Weeks Later
Mist fogged the tinted glass, and raindrops lashed at the roof of the velvet-lined limo, their steady dripping the only constant in my mind. Absentmindedly, I raised one hand and tapped a fingernail against the thin pane of glass, so light and clear that it seemed there was nothing between me and the outside world. Glass, I reflected, that was invulnerable to most firearms and could resist multiple shots from an RPG. It seemed so implausible that in another time and place, I would have laughed. But he'd developed it, and like everything else he made, it was brilliant. I swallowed, and realized I was blinking back the faintest hint of tears.
"Damn him. Just...damn him." The words slipped out under my breath, faint and quiet. If Happy heard them where he sat next to me, his meaty hands gripping the wheel, he gave no sign that he had.
Rhodey's words played again in my mind, like a recording, like they had since I first heard them. Tony was safe, they'd found Tony. Tony was hurt, they didn't know if he'd make it. Each new message dulling the soft joy I'd felt at the first one. But that was nothing, I reminded myself, to the weeks before that. Plastering empty smiles for prying cameras, for nosy executives, for every fucking person on the damn planet who wanted to know where Tony Stark was and what he was doing. Standing by, gazing at Stane's contrite face, as the board voted for Tony's replacement, as those vultures kicked him out of the company he had built.
I swallowed again, this time more deeply. Next to me, Happy spoke, his voice booming over the fading rain.
"We'll be there in a few minutes, Pepper."
I nodded firmly, surprised I still had enough strength in my body to move my head. It had all been worth it, I thought. Every agonizing moment of kowtowing to men in dark suits who wanted to know where Tony kept his "resources", every second of struggling to hold on to the hope that somehow, he'd come back.
It had been worth it.
The limo swerved to pull in to the airport, and I felt my heart rise as if to force it's way out of my throat. I swung my eyes around the almost-vacant airport, alighting upon a large military carrier. And as the last few drops of rain fell from the dark sky, I saw him. The rich double-breasted suit I had seen him in last was long gone, replaced by a grey jumpsuit that looked as if it had been pulled from the bottom of an army storage locker. He stood at the bottom of the plane's steps, and I could see Rhodey's fatigue-clad figure emerging behind him as the limo pulled up.
As soon as I felt the dark limo come to a stop, I swung open the door and stepped out. His eyes swing up to meet mine, and a wry grin slipped across his face.
I nodded curtly. "Mr. Stark, sir."
He laughed at that. "Miss Potts.", he said as he bent low in a mock bow. A small smile twitched across my own face, one I could not hold in. From his vantage point at the top of the plane, I saw Rhodey raise a hand to salute me, and-
The smile slipped from my face. My eyes slid back to Tony, and I froze. It was something small, something no one would notice, perhaps, no one but me. I had always loved Tony's eyes. They shone fiercely when he was passionate, and their rich blue had always had a cold fire to them. No more. His eyes were cold and pale now, empty and still, ice where there had been azure, jewels of steel and empty silence hanging above that familiar grin. As I swung open the passenger door for him, only one thought filled my mind.
This was not Tony Stark.
I felt sand burning underneath my feet, felt dunes shift under my every step. I knew I should be hungry, that by now my body should have burned the last of the meager proteins I gathered from the gruel the insurgents had fed me earlier that morning, a morning that felt so long ago now. Every part of my logical mind screamed that I should be crawling in the sand, dying, if not dead already. Temperatures in this part of the desert easily reached high enough that I should have baked to death hours earlier. Whatever had happened to me, it defied everything I knew.
Again, I prodded at the thing in my mind, the...presence. If I was searching for answers, I would have to begin here, with whatever or whoever it was. An artificial intelligence? Some sort of alternate personality, perhaps? My brain burned, humming with questions. Questions, that, for almost the first time in memory, I could not answer. I reached out, mentally prodding the entity.
Who are you?, I queried for the fourth time in almost as many minutes. What are you?
Silence.
"Great." I muttered out loud. "Do you have a name, at least?"
Like a switch had been flipped, the presence roared to life, surging through me, enveloping my entire body in a rush of power that was nearly euphoric. My skin turned pale and blue, and I could see the shifting desert sands through my translucent hand. I fell to my knees in the desert sand, unable to staunch the raw energy that was leaping through me. A voice like stones grinding echoed in my head.
I am Celebrimor.
Around me, ruins rose from the sands, buildings of unearthly white and blue. The curved domes and spires towered into the air. The architecture was ancient. Early Persian or Sumerian in make, but where they stood in the real world, the physical world, there was only sand and dust.
"What are these?"
Memories of great temples raised up in worship of great kings. I see them as they once were, foundations of light glimmering in the desert.
"Melodramatic much?"
There was silence, and moments passed before Celebrimbor spoke again.
These are not my ruins. Not my memories. I see much in the the world of the dead, but there is much even I do not know. I walked of old in Mordor, in the land of shadow where all lights fail.
"I'll take that as a yes, then.", I muttered under my breath.
"Why are you here? Why me?"
I came to this world of steel and glass through a veil of shadow. I remember darkness, wandering in night without ending. And then a light, flickering in the dark. A life, guttering to a meager end like a flame extinguish. You drew me here, Anthony. And I drew you to me. You have been wronged. We both have been wronged.
You were betrayed, Stark.
Memories ran through my head, my own this time. Gunfire and smoke, screaming and death. My escort, gunned down protecting me, gunned down like Yinsen, who gave his life for mine. Blood pounded in my ears, like the blood I knew stained my hands, and I could feel a red-hot coil of anger burning in my gut. What were the chances of that specific insurgent cell happening upon the one convoy containing the U.S Army's primary weapons manufacturer? No.
No, I had been betrayed, from the inside. I felt Celebrimbor surging up within me, in time with my anger, in time with my heartbeat.
I can help you find your enemy. When you have your vengeance, your spirit will be absolved. You can die in peace, and I...I can go home., he crooned into my ear. He seemed insistent. Forceful. For the slightest of moments, I hesitated.
Faintly, I could feel the wind and sand picking up around my physical body, feel my hair being blown backward by whipping gusts of wind. As the black chopper rose above me, I nodded. As Rhodey's voice echoed down at me over the echoing sound of the blades, I spoke.
"Yes."
I felt Celebrimbor smile, felt him nod in return, felt him fade back into the corners of my mind. The ghostly azure towers faded away, and color and light returned to the world. The chopper blades were deafening now, and I instinctively raised my arm to shield my face from the buffeting wind and sand. I grinned up at Rhodey's weary face, and I could feel my lips moving. But inside, inside I felt cold. Empty.
I felt dead.
____________________
Pepper
Manhattan, Three Weeks Later
Mist fogged the tinted glass, and raindrops lashed at the roof of the velvet-lined limo, their steady dripping the only constant in my mind. Absentmindedly, I raised one hand and tapped a fingernail against the thin pane of glass, so light and clear that it seemed there was nothing between me and the outside world. Glass, I reflected, that was invulnerable to most firearms and could resist multiple shots from an RPG. It seemed so implausible that in another time and place, I would have laughed. But he'd developed it, and like everything else he made, it was brilliant. I swallowed, and realized I was blinking back the faintest hint of tears.
"Damn him. Just...damn him." The words slipped out under my breath, faint and quiet. If Happy heard them where he sat next to me, his meaty hands gripping the wheel, he gave no sign that he had.
Rhodey's words played again in my mind, like a recording, like they had since I first heard them. Tony was safe, they'd found Tony. Tony was hurt, they didn't know if he'd make it. Each new message dulling the soft joy I'd felt at the first one. But that was nothing, I reminded myself, to the weeks before that. Plastering empty smiles for prying cameras, for nosy executives, for every fucking person on the damn planet who wanted to know where Tony Stark was and what he was doing. Standing by, gazing at Stane's contrite face, as the board voted for Tony's replacement, as those vultures kicked him out of the company he had built.
I swallowed again, this time more deeply. Next to me, Happy spoke, his voice booming over the fading rain.
"We'll be there in a few minutes, Pepper."
I nodded firmly, surprised I still had enough strength in my body to move my head. It had all been worth it, I thought. Every agonizing moment of kowtowing to men in dark suits who wanted to know where Tony kept his "resources", every second of struggling to hold on to the hope that somehow, he'd come back.
It had been worth it.
The limo swerved to pull in to the airport, and I felt my heart rise as if to force it's way out of my throat. I swung my eyes around the almost-vacant airport, alighting upon a large military carrier. And as the last few drops of rain fell from the dark sky, I saw him. The rich double-breasted suit I had seen him in last was long gone, replaced by a grey jumpsuit that looked as if it had been pulled from the bottom of an army storage locker. He stood at the bottom of the plane's steps, and I could see Rhodey's fatigue-clad figure emerging behind him as the limo pulled up.
As soon as I felt the dark limo come to a stop, I swung open the door and stepped out. His eyes swing up to meet mine, and a wry grin slipped across his face.
I nodded curtly. "Mr. Stark, sir."
He laughed at that. "Miss Potts.", he said as he bent low in a mock bow. A small smile twitched across my own face, one I could not hold in. From his vantage point at the top of the plane, I saw Rhodey raise a hand to salute me, and-
The smile slipped from my face. My eyes slid back to Tony, and I froze. It was something small, something no one would notice, perhaps, no one but me. I had always loved Tony's eyes. They shone fiercely when he was passionate, and their rich blue had always had a cold fire to them. No more. His eyes were cold and pale now, empty and still, ice where there had been azure, jewels of steel and empty silence hanging above that familiar grin. As I swung open the passenger door for him, only one thought filled my mind.
This was not Tony Stark.
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