Marvel: Silver Hand

Alexander sat across from Tom Bombadil, still trying to process everything he had learned. Celebrimbor had returned to Middle-earth before him—hundreds of years ago—and had been captured by Sauron. It made no sense. He clenched his fists, his mind racing.

"Why did Celebrimbor arrive before me and Eldhringr?" Alexander finally asked.

Tom, as always, gave a knowing smile. "Ah, because your wraith-friend was born of this world, lad. The threads of Arda called him home first, long before you or the flame-maiden beside you."

Alexander gritted his teeth. That made sense in a way, but it still pissed him off.

Before he could ask more questions, Eldhringr stirred beside him, groaning in pain. Her raven-black hair, matted with dirt, fell over her face as she pushed herself up. The moment her glowing red eyes locked onto Alexander, her face twisted into rage.

"You insignificant—" She tried to raise a hand, summoning black fire in her palm, but she barely had the strength to keep herself upright.

Tom lifted a hand. "Now, now, flame-maiden. You are safe in my house. No need for anger."

To Alexander's shock, Eldhringr actually stopped. The fire in her hand sputtered out. She scowled, but she didn't lash out.

Alexander turned to Tom. "How the hell did you do that?"

Tom just smiled. "Some things need no explaining, young fire-lord. Some things simply are."

Alexander narrowed his eyes, but before he could question him further, Tom gestured toward the door.

"Go on, lad. Leave us for a moment. I must speak with her alone."

Alexander hesitated. He didn't trust this thing, not even for a second. But if Tom really knew how to send him home, he had to at least try to listen to him.

With a deep breath, he nodded and stepped outside the room, waiting impatiently. He could hear murmurs of conversation, but nothing clear. He hated this. Every second wasted here was another second Celebrimbor suffered in Mordor.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Tom opened the door.

"Go in. Speak your truths, both of you."

Alexander stepped back into the room, and Tom left, shutting the door behind him. The air between them was tense. Eldhringr sat on the floor, her arms resting on her knees, her face unreadable.

Alexander crossed his arms. "Alright. Let's talk. You and me—questions. I ask, you answer. You ask, I answer. Fair?"

Eldhringr tilted her head, considering it. Then, with a smirk, she nodded. "Fine."

Alexander wasted no time. "What's your real name?"

Her smirk faded. She was silent for a long moment before shaking her head. "I don't have one. I was never given one by my creator."

Alexander frowned. As much as he hated her, something about that struck a chord in him.

"Who is your creator?" he asked next.

Eldhringr hesitated again but eventually answered. "A cosmic entity. One of the most powerful beings in existence. The embodiment of the primordial void that existed before the multiverse non existence it self, Oblivion."

The name sent a chill down Alexander's spine. "Oblivion?.

She gave a dark laugh. "So have you heard of him."

Alexander shook his head. "No, I haven't. But I know things like him exist. And if he created you… no wonder me and Celebrimbor lost so easily."

Eldhringr smirked. "That's the smartest thing you've said so far."

Alexander ignored the jab and pressed forward. "How can nothingness even exist?"

She shrugged. "That's not something either of us can understand. Oblivion existed before the multiverse, before anything. His domain is the void, the space outside of all things."

Alexander's head hurt just thinking about it.

"Alright," he said, shaking off the unease. "Your turn. Ask a question."

Eldhringr didn't hesitate. "Who was that thing with you? The wraith?"

Alexander's expression darkened. "That thing is Celebrimbor. And he's a better person than you'll ever be."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Where is he from? He doesn't belong to your universe."

Alexander. "He comes from this world middle earth or arda as its called".

Eldhringr hummed in thought but didn't press further.

"My turn again," Alexander said. "How are you connected to Eldrborinn's weapon and that amulet?"

At this, Eldhringr let out a full, genuine laugh. It was dark, mocking. "Eldrborinn's weapon, you say? Such a stupid name for me."

Alexander's eye twitched. "Shut the fuck up."

She waved him off. "Fine, fine. I'll explain." She leaned back against the wall, her red eyes gleaming. "When I was created, Oblivion made me to be a weapon—one that would spread chaos through the multiverse. But he knew he couldn't send me as I was. If the Living Tribunal caught wind of my true power, I would've been erased or sent back."

Alexander listened intently, trying to make sense of it all.

"So," she continued, "he disguised me. He forged me into a simple metal—an ancient, cursed metal capable of absorbing heat, fire, light, everything. And he dropped me into the multiverse, leaving me to lie dormant in Muspelheim for billions of years."

Alexander's stomach twisted. "And then Eldrborinn found you."

She nodded. "He was the first to pass my trials—most of them, anyway. He never fully mastered me, which made him wary. So he created that cursed amulet to seal away my consciousness. I was nothing but an object to him, a tool he feared." Her voice turned bitter. "I was trapped in that amulet for millennia... until you stupidly reunited me with my body."

Alexander's hands clenched into fists. "If I had known what you were, I never would have let that happen."

Eldhringr—or whatever her real name was—just smirked. "Too late for regrets, Alexander."

Alexander exhaled through his nose. "Alright. One last question." He met her eyes. "You said people had to pass your test before you'd accept them as your master. What's the test?"

Her smirk widened. "Simple. Survive."

Before Alexander could react, she reached forward, pressing two fingers against his forehead.

His vision shifted.

Suddenly, he was standing in his childhood home. The scent of his mother's cooking filled the air. Laughter echoed from the next room—his mother, his aunt, his baby sister. His father's deep voice rumbling like distant thunder.

His heart clenched.

No…

Then the door slammed open.

Ryan entered, the same twisted grin on his face. A knife gleamed in his hands.

Alexander tried to move. To stop him. To do anything.

But he was frozen.

"To pass," Eldhringr's voice whispered in his mind, "you must not interfere."

Alexander watched, powerless, as his family screamed. As Ryan butchered them. As blood painted the walls.

His hands clenched so tightly that his nails cut into his palms. His teeth ground together until they ached.

It's not real. It's not real.

Tears burned in his eyes.

And then—finally—Ryan was gone.

The vision shattered, and Alexander gasped as he fell to his knees, his breathing ragged.

Eldhringr stood before him, arms crossed. "You passed."

Alexander wiped his eyes, his voice hoarse. "Then… you're my weapon now?"

She nodded. "I am yours, and yours alone."

Alexander exhaled and looked at her. "Then change your form. I hate that damn discus."

She grinned. Darkness enveloped her, and in an instant, she reshaped into a sword—a long, elegant black blade, its hilt adorned with red gemstones, its edges flickering with black fire.

Alexander studied it. "Narquar," he said softly. "Black Flame."

The blade pulsed, as if in approval.

Tom re-entered the room, smiling. "Good. You two seem to be getting along now. Rest, young fire-lord. Tomorrow, your path begins."

Alexander sighed. Narquar refused to return to his forehead and instead claimed the bed. Annoyed, he sat on the floor, closed his eyes, and began to meditate.

Soon, he thought, I will get Celebrimbor back.

---

Alexander awoke from his meditation, his body fully rested, though his mind was still burdened with thoughts of the journey ahead. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the soft morning light filtering through the small window.

He turned his head and scowled.

Narquar, in her human form, was sprawled across the bed, snoring softly. Her long, raven-black hair was a mess, and her expression was surprisingly peaceful—completely unlike the arrogant, bloodthirsty warrior he had met the day before.

Alexander clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Wake up."

She didn't move.

Frowning, he walked over and smacked her forehead lightly with his palm.

Her red eyes snapped open, and she shot up, glaring at him. "The fuck was that for?"

"You're sleeping in."

"I was recovering."

"Not my problem. Get back into your sword form."

She growled but obeyed, standing up and stretching before her body was engulfed in dark flames. In an instant, the tall, dark-haired woman was gone, replaced by a sleek black sword resting on the bed. The weapon floated into the air, then shot toward Alexander, absorbing itself into his forehead.

For a moment, he felt the warmth of her presence settling into his mind.

You could at least say 'please.' her voice echoed in his thoughts.

Alexander rolled his eyes. Not happening.

Still shaking off the morning grogginess, he left the room and stepped into the cozy kitchen where Tom and Goldberry were already seated, enjoying a quiet breakfast. The scent of warm bread and fresh honey filled the air, making his stomach rumble.

"Ah, our young fire-lord rises at last!" Tom grinned, gesturing for Alexander to sit. "Come, eat! A long road ahead needs a strong belly."

Alexander hesitated for only a second before sitting down. He had no idea when he'd get a proper meal again. He grabbed some bread and honey and ate in silence while Goldberry hummed a soft tune.

"So," he said after a moment, wiping his mouth, "where am I supposed to go from here?"

Tom chuckled. "Ah, lad, the road calls to you already! Good, good! You must travel to Bree, a fine little town where many roads meet."

"Bree?" Alexander frowned. "What's in Bree?"

Tom's eyes twinkled with mystery. "Not what, but who. Go to an inn there, the Prancing Pony. Your answers will find you."

Alexander sighed, already annoyed at the vague response. "Great. More riddles."

Goldberry smiled. "Not riddles, young one. Just the way things must be."

Alexander didn't push further. He had learned by now that pressing for more details wouldn't get him anywhere.

He stood up, ready to leave, when Tom suddenly clapped his hands together.

"Ah, but before you go!"

Alexander paused, watching as Tom and Goldberry stood up and walked toward him. In Goldberry's hands was a small, finely woven headband. The material shimmered slightly, as if woven with something not quite of this world.

"This is our gift to you," Goldberry said, holding it out. "Wear it, and it will hide the mark of your blade while also making your appearance less… intimidating."

Alexander raised an eyebrow. "Less intimidating?"

Tom chuckled. "Aye! Your burning hair and glowing eyes, as fine a sight as they are, might cause a stir in Bree. This headband will return your hair and eyes to what they once were, before you carried the fire of the forge within you."

Alexander hesitated for a moment before taking the headband. He tied it around his forehead, and almost instantly, he felt a subtle shift. He turned and caught his reflection in a small metal dish on the table.

His fiery, living hair had settled into its normal black color. His molten gold eyes were now their original shade of cold, stormy gray.

He exhaled slowly. He looked… like a normal human again.

"Not bad," he muttered. "Thanks."

Goldberry smiled warmly. "May it serve you well on your journey."

Tom clapped him on the back, nearly knocking him off balance. "Now off with you, lad! The world spins forward, and so must you!"

Alexander gave them both a final nod before stepping outside.

The morning air was crisp and cool, and for the first time since waking up in this world, he felt a strange sense of… direction.

Bree. The Prancing Pony.

That was where he had to go.

Without another word, he set off down the road.