Okay, I know it's been a month. Sorry. I thought I could get this done before summative season, but then I got hit by eight of them, so it's not that I haven't been writing these past several weeks. It's that I haven't been writing for fun these past several weeks, and believe me, I'd rather have been writing this story than essays. This'll probably wrap itself up in another one or two chapters.

Celeblas Slentari Manwe: I did write that poem Penny's been singing. I'm glad you like it. Even my writer's craft teacher liked it.

Disclaimer: The song surrounding this chapter is not mine. It's In Dreams by Fran Walsh and Howard Shore. All previous disclaimers stand.

When the cold of winter comes

Starless night will cover day

In the veiling of the sun

We will walk in bitter rain

But in dreams

I can hear your name

And in dreams

We will meet again.

After nearly half an hour of Glorfindel arguing with Alden, Kieran threw his hands in the air. "Glorfindel, how do you say 'why' in Common?"

Glorfindel gave the translation and Kieran nodded.

"Why you think we not tell truth?" Kieran asked in Common. "Why should we lie to you? We want home to go. We want you to speak to we what you of our grandparents know."

Alden shook his head and said something to Glorfindel.

The elf nodded and turned to the twins. "We should get a room at the inn."

"We can't give up," Kieran protested.

"Kieran--"

"We didn't spend three months wading through snow so our great-uncle could reject us."

"If someone turned up on your doorstep claiming what we are, what would you say?" He paused for a moment while Kieran looked down. "We should get a room before they are all taken. We'll try Ailyn's family tomorrow."

"And you think they'll believe us?"

"We need to think of a way to prove what we say."

"How?" Penny asked. "We have names and a song we could have learned anywhere in Middle Earth."

"Then think." He walked to the door and held it open for them. "We will try again. Let's go."

The twins followed Glorfindel back to the inn, dejected. Three months journey simply to be dismissed without a second thought. The innkeeper gave them a room with three beds and space in the stable for their horses.

Instead of going to the common room for supper, the travellers ate from their own supplies in the silence of their room, glad to be away from the noise and crowd. They still had some smoked ham, lembas and dried fruit, which made a decent meal. None of them wanted to face the rest of the town quite yet.

"Is there no way to prove your kinship to Alden?" Glorfindel asked when they'd finished eating.

"A DNA test, but I don't think you have those here," Kieran said sarcastically.

"DNA?" Glorfindel asked, repeating the foreign word carefully.

"Never mind," Penny sighed. "All we have is our grandmother's lullaby, but we could have learned that anywhere. It's not exactly popular, but it's familiar to people who have traveled, so. . ."

"If you can't prove your relation in two weeks, we'll return to Imladris."

"Well, sorry we didn't ask Gramma and Grampa how on Arda to prove we're their grandchildren before taking a walk. We didn't plan on coming here."

Glorfindel nodded slowly. "Pictures?"

Kieran thought for a moment, but shook his head. "No. Not unless they look a lot like they did at twenty, now that they're eighty."

"Try," Glorfindel ordered. "Is there something they always wore, or something they have that may be from Middle Earth?"

Penny and Kieran thought back to four years ago when they'd last seen their grandparents, and began thinking out loud in English. Kieran took out his sketch book and pencil to draw as they thought. It wasn't hard. Gramma and Grampa had looked mostly the same for years, unchanging except for a few new wrinkles and a slow, steady greying of their hair.

"Gramma had silver hair tied back in a bun," Penny said slowly.

"You look a lot like her," Kieran observed. "Face me. If I copy your basic face shape and add to my own memory, that should be a start."

Penny obediently turned to face him. "She always wore that necklace. I don't think she ever took it off. Tiny blue, grey, green and copper stones with that larger one at the centre."

"Held together by that strip of leather," Kieran added. "That big stone had copper in it too."

"I remember. I asked her about it once, when I was small." In her mind's eye she could see her own small hand stroking the polished stone with swirls of blue, grey, green, and tiny copper veins. "I asked her where she got it. She said it was a family heirloom--that I'd get it when I married."

"I guess you won't now, but that does mean it came from here." Kieran put away the picture of his grandmother, little more than an outline, and on a fresh piece of paper began to sketch the necklace. "I should also draw their wedding rings, even if they were plain gold. They had etchings in them of runes and leaves and stars."

"Yeah. Do you remember them?"

"I think so. I spent hours studying them. I know those rings like you know the lullaby."

Kieran stared at the paper as he worked, brow furrowed, as if he expected the images to appear in perfect likeness by sheer force of will. Penny just watched. She loved watching her brother draw. He seemed to be able to call forth images from paper and graphite with his hands, as if by magic.

"Tell me about the necklace," Kieran said.

"You probably remember better than I do."

"I know, but it helps to hear about it. You don't have to describe it. Just tell me about it. I know you asked her about its history. What else do you know about it?"

Penny sighed and closed her eyes as she tried to remember. "It was passed down from mother to daughter for five generations, always to the oldest daughter on her wedding day. Gramma's great-great-great-grandmother chose the colours for the beads, found the stones, polished them, on her own. Can you imagine searching these woods for all those stones? Blue for the sky, grey for the sea, green for the forest, and copper for fire. I guess the colour reminded her, or the fact that copper comes from in the earth. I don't know. Interesting, isn't it? Her home, and the elven rings. I wonder if she knew. Now I know why Gramma never talked about her home much. Probably afraid that she'd give away the secret. Do you think they'll believe us when they see the picture?"

"I hope so," Kieran said. "They should believe your story, if nothing else. I can't imagine anyone outside the family knowing it, and I can't imagine another necklace looking like this one, if I can get it right."

"You will," Penny said, opening her eyes to study the image taking shape beneath the pencil. Kieran drew confidently, each stroke exactly where it should be, exactly as Penny remembered it. When he'd finally finished, using shading to bring out the swirls of colour, Penny almost thought she could reach out and pick the necklace off the page. Even in the black and white sketch she saw the colours she knew so well. How many times had she fingered those stones as Gramma told her a story, or held her after a nightmare, or bandaged a scraped knee?

"It's beautiful," Glorfindel said softly.

"Hopefully it's the proof we need," Kieran said.

"I don't think you need to draw the rings," Penny said. "If this isn't enough, I doubt they will be. Do the runes, though. If we can read them, they might come in handy if we need an extra bit of proof."

Kieran nodded and quickly sketched the inscription in runes that the twins now recognised as Sindarin. "Looks like our grandparents went to school," Kieran said.

"Let's wait to see what they say before deciding that," Penny said.

Glorfindel smiled. "Many Dunedain know some Elvish. I would not be surprised if they did."

The runes drawn, Kieran held them up so his sister could see them and read, "May our love endure beyond the end of days. Both of them say that."

Penny nodded. "And all that time I thought they were Gaelic."

Kieran laughed.

It wasn't long before they went to bed.

Penny stood in a forest somewhere. She wasn't sure where, only that it was late winter. Perhaps it was the woods surrounding the town. She looked beside her and found Kieran. He looked as thoroughly bewildered as she felt.

They exchanged a look that said both, "What's going on?" and, "I have no idea," at the same time.

"Penny, Kieran," a soft, familiar voice said.

They turned to find their grandmother standing before them, her hair nearly white, the necklace till around her neck. She still spoke with the accent that they recognised now as the trace of Westron that always remained in her speech.

"Are you real?" Kieran asked.

"No, love, I'm just a dream. I'm a dream sent by the Valar to explain this to you. I know you don't understand, but sixty years ago, when your grandfather and I were taken to your world it upset a balance between our worlds. Nothing too major has happened yet, nothing drastic, but our worlds need to be separate again. They need to be balanced for that to happen, and the only way for them to be balanced is for two people to return to Middle Earth. I wish it could be me and Albion, but we are too old now to survive such a trip. It's a strain, you see, to travel between two worlds. You did not feel it the first time, but you would if you came back, and you can't. Even if it weren't physically difficult, enough rules have been bent as it is, and you need to stay there, for the good of both our worlds. I don't know if Tolkien created Middle Earth, or if our crossing allowed the knowledge of this place to seep into his mind without his knowing. All I do know is that I love you. I knew when you disappeared what had happened. You've done well here. Remember the necklace. My family will know it." She sighed. "I wish I could do this for you, but I know you'll be fine. I am sorry this could not have happened earlier, but even the Valar can only induce such dreams close to the spot of the original crossing. I have to go."

Slowly Penny opened her eyes to be greeted by the sight of Kieran doing the same in the next bed. He looked as confused as she felt.

"I had the strangest dream," Penny said in English.

"Me too," Kieran told her. "About Gramma, and. . . I guess it was real. As real as dreams get, anyway."

"I guess," Penny said. "So, this means. . ." She blinked back unexpected tears and tried again. "This means we can't go home."

"I guess. I wish we could."

"Me too," Penny said automatically, but realised that though in a way she wished she could go home, in others she didn't. The news that they couldn't go home brought a strange sense of relief as well as loss. There would be no explanations about where they had been or how they returned. There would be no school to catch up on, no university to apply to. At the same time, whether she wanted to admit it or not, like her brother she had clung to the hope of seeing her mother and younger siblings again. "It's strange, though. I'd miss this place if I had to leave it."

"You got here yesterday," Kieran said.

"Middle Earth, Kieran. Not Clearwater. It better go well today."

"You nervous?"

"Oh, yeah."

"What time is it?"

Penny glanced past her brother to the window and took in the deep blue sky and the first signs of dawn behind the buildings. "Tindome." She stood and went to sit on her brother's bed. "Our window faces east."

"I want to sleep, Penny. Even Glorfindel's still asleep."

The elf did appear to be sleeping, though with him it was hard to tell. His eyes were open, but seemed to be staring through the ceiling, rather than at it.

"Not for long," Penny said softly. "We won't get much more sleep, anyhow. May as well watch the sun rise."

Kieran groaned, but sat up. "God, I wish we could go home," he whispered, not to Penny, perhaps to no one.

"I don't think Iluvatar cares what you want," Penny murmured. "I think he just cares what his world needs."

"Yeah, well, who are the Valar to say where we should live. What gives them the right to bring us here?"

"The Valar are somewhere between archangels and lesser deities who's job it is to watch over Arda. That's who they think they are, and probably what gives them the right."

"Why us?"

Penny shrugged. "Probably because we're half Dunedain, or whatever these people are, by blood, and because there are two of us. Two left. Two must return, preferably of the same blood, I'd imagine, but in the end it's like a scale. Our worlds hang in balance and when two are taken from one side, two must be taken from the other side to replace them. It's numbers, Kieran. Cold, unsympathetic numbers. I've never understood why you love them so much."

"Because they don't lie, they don't change. They're black and white. In math you're always right or wrong. You know where you stand."

"Nothing's black and white. Not even math."

Glorfindel woke, surprised to see both twins awake the first chance they'd had to sleep in in months. They briefly explained about the dream, and what it had told them. Glorfindel simply listened and nodded. Both twins seemed to wilt as they spoke. Even Penny's more guarded hope had been crushed by the news.

"Get ready," the elf said eventually.

They did. The dream only made the visit to Ailyn's sister more urgent. Kieran dug out a shirt and pants that didn't look like they'd been lived in for three months from the bottom of his bag. Penny put the dress she'd packed on, and braided her hair elven style. It took ages, but looked nice and was more out of the way than simply leaving it loose. Glorfindel asked the inn keeper for the address of Ailyn's sister. She lived on a farm a short ride out of town.

Riding through town, there were few young men, or even middle aged men. Women and children could be found in abundance, but the men were absent.

"Where are all the men?" Kieran asked.

"With the Rangers," Glorfindel answered shortly.

"Oh."

It was sunny, but little warmth was cast with the morning light. A chill wind blew through the streets as they rode. Outside the town lay several farms, but they found the one they wanted quickly. It was the closest to Clearwater. The house was a small, two story wooden building near the barn. A large garden lay ready for planting when the spring came, and large fields could be seen behind. In the distance sheep and cows grazed on other farms.

A woman in her thirties stepped outside at the sound of the hoof beats. "Who are you? Can I help you?" she asked in Common.

"We are Glorfindel, Aislinn and Kieran of Imladris," Glorfindel said. "Does Ailiel live here?"

"Yes. I am her daughter Caelyn."

"We must speak with her."

Caelyn said something that went completely over the twins' heads before nodding. "Come in."

"She says Alden warned her we might come." Glorfindel said softly in Sindarin before either of them could ask.

All three of them quickly dismounted and tied their horses to hitching posts by the barn. Caelyn waited for them before leading them inside. Her hair was long and loose, dark brown. She didn't seem unfriendly, but very cautious.

Inside, she led them to the kitchen and sat them at the table. "Tea?" She didn't wait for the answer, but put the kettle on. The whole place smelled of dried herbs--mint and lavender.

Using Glorfindel as a translator, Caelyn said, "Mother wants to see you. You'd better not hurt her. I don't have much time today, but I'll stay as long as I can. Wait here."

She left and returned a few minutes later with a woman in her late sixties. Ailiel had silver hair and grey eyes. Her dress, like her daughter's, was beige and homemade. Penny glanced down nervously at her green dress. The Rivendell cloth seemed modest among the elves, but out of place in this setting. Kieran fiddled with the folded paper he'd brought.

"Good morning," Ailiel said in Sindarin. "Yes, I speak Elvish. My parents taught me as a girl. There are a few people in these parts who still speak the language of the Eldar. Why are you here?"

"I believe these young people to be the grandchildren of your sister Ailyn," Glorfindel said in Sindarin as a point of courtesy to the twins.

"So Alden told me," Ailiel said and sat. "As you've probably gathered I'm Ailyn's sister--Ailiel. How can you two be her grandchildren? She and her husband vanished sixty years ago."

"She went to our land," Penny said. "Far away."

"Can you prove this?"

Kieran took his paper and unfolded it to show the picture of the necklace. "She always wore this. She probably still does. We haven't seen her in over four years."

Ailiel studied the picture carefully, and the runes on the bottom of the page, tears filling her eyes. "This is the necklace, and this is what her wedding ring said. How. . .?"

"From what we can tell," Glorfindel said, "Sarumon made a mistake. He sent your sister and her husband to another world. Now the Valar have brought Aislinn and Kieran to restore the balance between our worlds."

"This is hard to take in."

"I know," Penny said. "Believe me, I know."

"I believe you," Ailiel said slowly. "By the Valar, the necklace. What do you want from us? Why have you come here?" Ailiel's eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Neither twin spoke. 'Because Elrond made us,' did not seem like a wise thing to say, however true.

Glorfindel came to their rescue by saying softly, "Lord Elrond sent them to learn why they were brought to Middle Earth, and to answer questions which have weighed heavily on your mind for many years now. They may stay here, if you wish, or return with me to Rivendell in two weeks if you prefer."

"Can you come back tomorrow when I have had time to think?"

"Of course," Glorfindel said. He rose, and the twins followed.

For the rest of the day, the twins and Glorfindel explored the woods surrounding Clearwater on horseback, and the town itself. It wasn't a large town, and by the end of the day they knew the location of most of the shops, and had spoken with some of the people who lived there. They didn't talk much. There was nothing to say. Penny wasn't sure what she was more afraid of--her great-aunt accepting her and Kieran or her rejection. Acceptance would mean staying here, and that meant adapting to a whole new group of people and the language. Rejection would mean they had an excuse to return to Rivendell, where they knew the people and the language, though many of the people would be leaving fairly soon.

The next afternoon they returned to Ailiel's for the verdict. Again, her daughter Caelyn was there. This time she stayed in the kitchen for tea, and to listen. Ailiel and Caelyn spent several minutes setting out mint tea, and a type of fruit cake out before sitting down themselves.

"My daughter is a midwife, like me," Ailiel said. "My husband is out hunting, but the three of us talked last night."

Penny and Kieran shifted in their seats. They exchanged a brief glance, hoping for good news, but not expecting it. The town was nice enough, but most of the people didn't seem overly welcoming of strangers. Not that they could blame anyone for that these days.

"What have you decided?" Glorfindel asked.

"They are our family," Ailiel said. "You have proven that beyond doubt. How can we turn them away? Aislinn, Kieran, you may stay here, with us, if you wish. I can help you learn Common. Both of you can train for jobs in town, or work on the farm as you wish. If you wish to return to your home with the elves, though, we will not stop you."

Penny faced Kieran. "We should stay. Most of the elves we know will be leaving in the next two years," she said in English.

Kieran nodded. "Not much point in going back then. Besides, they're family. It'll be nice to live with humans again."

Both twins faced Ailiel. "We'll stay," they said in Common as one.

Ailiel smiled. "I hoped you might say that."

When the seas and mountains fall

And we come to end of days

In the dark I hear a call

Calling me there

I will go there

And back again.