DISCLAIMER: Most of this chapter belongs to me, actually. Any mentions of characters or places from Tolkien do not.

Transportation

Joe Nesmith stood up, realising from the ache in his knees just how long he'd been kneeling before the inscription. Looking around, he noticed with some surprise that the chamber was empty, that the archaeological team had left at some point. Glancing down at his watch, he discovered the reason – he had been lost to the world for several hours.

Sighing, he walked up the staircase, letting the climb loosen up his aching joints. A third of the way up, he stopped, frowned at the topmost line of the inscription, and made a note on his sheet of paper. Then he continued up.

On reaching the top Joe made for the tent where, sure enough, Bob was waiting, along with Sandra and another girl who Joe didn't know. Sitting down in a collapsible chair, he said, "I've got it. Well, most of it."

The girl frowned. "Only most?"

Bob sighed. "Be nice, Mary." Then he turned to Joe. "So was some of it illegible, or what?"

Joe shook his head. "It's not that. It's just that, well, we only have a couple of thousand words of Quenya available to us. Quite frankly, I'm amazed I could translate as much as I could."

"So what does it say?" asked the girl named Mary impatiently. Joe smiled at her impetuousness, and pulled out his notebook.

"It's all written down here. I won't try to read it out." He threw the notebook onto the table and let them read, in his neat handwriting, the words of the map.

'If you are reading this [noun, singular, seems to be related to 'word', possibly 'message'], you have seen [unknown word] my [possibly 'message'] and my [noun, singular, related to 'land', perhaps 'map'] . I [verb, aorist tense, very likely 'hope'] that you are able to [verb, infinitive, related to 'read'] my words, otherwise all hope is lost for me. You [verb, present tense] now on the westernmost star on the [perhaps 'map']. The easternmost star is over the [noun, plural, almost certainly 'mines' from context] of Khazad-Dûm, wherein [unknown word] the dwarves [verb, past tense]. Now the caverns [verb, aorist tense] [unknown word, related to 'one'] [possibly 'message]. I ask you [verb, infinitive] the wishes of the last son of Fëanor [verb, unknown tense, related to 'go'] to Khazad-Dûm and following the [noun, plural, related to 'command', perhaps 'instructions'] [verb, passive participle] [unknown word]. The phrase is 'Makalaurë antanë nyen sina quetta'.'

Sandra finished reading and frowned. "So he wants us to go to some random spot and say some random phrase for him. Does anyone else think this is crazy?"

Bob shook his head. "It's crazy, Sandra, but it's also right. Remember, this guy's been dead for, well, millennia. At least a hundred and twenty thousand years, assuming equal times between the translations on the inscription. It might be longer. The least we can do is fulfil his last wishes."

Sandra considered, and then nodded reluctantly. "I guess you're right. So . . . how are we going to get there?"

Joe raised a hand. "I can help there. The ULU has a standing agreement with BA&S that says faculty members can use their sub-orbital jets free, taking up to three companions with them. Considering they get first pick of our Air/Space graduates, rather than NASA or the ESA, everyone's happy. So, shall I give them a call?"

Bob stared. "Uh, yes, then. Assuming Mary and Sandra want to come."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," said Mary immediately. Sandra merely nodded.

"Right then," said Joe. "I have to go back to campus to make the call, but I'll call you once I know the time of the flight, and I'll see you at the airport."

And that was how Bob Taylor, Mary Cloud, Sandra Newton and Joe Nesmith found themselves aboard a British Air- & Spaceways ballistic shuttle, being launched from Heathrow launch platform and reaching the edge of space before being carried in a fast orbit to the airspace of what had been Germany before the formation of the United States of Europe, on their way to a cavern almost as old as the human race.

Yes, I'm inventing organisations all over the place, and giving them possibly-inappropriate technology. But it made the story possible.

As far as I can tell, the inscription can be translated using what Quenya is known to us, excluding the words in square brackets. Any mistakes in that are, I'm afraid, author error.

Cloaked Eagle