The Promise

After Maglor let go of my hand, he pointed to the second bed. "You are exhausted. I have claimed your attention for far too long. Let's talk about the details and how to proceed later."

Even though I could have fallen asleep right then and there, there was one other thing that was important to me, "Will you get Gimli and Beleg?"

"Yes." He paused. "When you are awake again. Even though this cave is very well hidden, I don't want to leave you and Thranduil's son without protection."

I could accept that, even if I wasn't sure it was the best idea to just go to sleep. Maglor may have sided with me, but who told me he still would tomorrow? It was clear that he was pursuing his own motives and that he was not unconditionally loyal to anyone, certainly not to me. Still, I had been tired when Legolas and I had sat in the tree and hid from the orcs. By now I was merely functioning, and that had to change. Therefore, I walked over to the bed and settled down on it.

"If you want to wash, there is a tub of water back there. But wait with it until I've left."

I nodded. Sleep was higher on my list of priorities at the moment than a bathing session. Nevertheless, I quickly washed my face, hands and forearms before dropping back onto the bed.

Hardly had my head touched the fur, I had already slipped into the realm of dreams. I had never fallen asleep so quickly, not even when we had spent days making our way from the woods of Lorien to Mirkwood. It was like falling through a tunnel, fast and unstoppable. Everything around me was spinning. It felt like I would have imagined falling to Middle Earth if I hadn't known what it had really been like. Except my dream didn't dump me into Tolkien's world; instead, I opened my eyes on a concrete sidewalk.

It was immediately clear to me that this couldn't be real, yet: it was familiar and alien at the same time – a strange mixture, probably because I hadn't seen it for so long. It took me a moment to recognize my dream environment: It was the street where I had lived. Cobblestones, parking lots to the left and right, linden trees on either side, spreading their blossoms across the ground. And 1950s red-brick rental apartments. Yes, this had been my home before I had decided to quit my job and travel the world. Why had I returned, even if only in a dream? In all the years I had spent in Middle Earth, I had never once dreamed of my old world in such detail. So why now?

I turned in a circle once more and realized that not everything was as I had remembered it: people were missing. My apartment had been in the middle of the city, and there had always been someone on the sidewalk. You could hear the quarrels of the neighbors and the cars, which were also frequenting the side street. Only now everything was empty. Extinct. As if this wasn't a memory, but a replica that someone had forgotten to fill with life.

Slowly I walked towards the apartment building where I had lived. With every step I felt how wrong it all was. It was the little things: A bird perched in the middle of the street, staring at me. A leaf in the air, motionless. Behind the windows I could see nothing but black infinity.

No.

This was no dream. This was…

"I was wondering when you would finally return to the world of the unconscious, Aspen."

A surprised sound escaped me, then I whirled around. But there was no one behind me. "Who are you?" I managed to get out. "Where are you?"

"I am," the voice replied, "all here."

"What do you mean?"

"That would be beyond your comprehension."

"Go ahead and challenge me." No, this wasn't right at all. My gut had not been wrong. I had never been a lucid dreamer, rather the opposite. Therefore, the very fact that I had perceived my surroundings as a dream should have warned me. Probably I had been too exhausted. "Get out of my head."

The voice laughed. "I'm flattered that you think I could enter your mind, but I assure you that this has nothing to do with your dream realm."

"What then?"

"Human souls wander when they sleep. And if they don't protect themselves, they can be invited in. I've asked yours for a tryst."

"How kind," I replied dryly. "I would like to leave then."

The voice remained silent for a moment, then said, "I haven't made my offer to you yet."

Even though the presence had not introduced itself, I began to suspect who was behind the surprise visit. I had no idea if what it had told me was true – I had never heard of traveling souls – but it didn't matter. I was here. And that meant that I was in control of the one who had invited me, if I wanted to speak in its words. The question that remained was whether I could break free from this invitation on my own. "I think I can do without your offer."

"What a pity you do not return my courtesy."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a movement that made me turn again. This time I had not imagined it. A little less than ten meters away, a man was now standing on the street. He was dressed completely in white, even his colorless hair matched the picture. He looked as out of place as anything in this environment, like anything that didn't feel right. If I had to guess, I would have thought he was an elf. But there was something about him that made me swallow. Something dark that was very different from the light airiness that surrounded all elves. Something that stood in stark contrast to his appearance. My gut told me to run away – as fast and as far as I could.

But I stayed.

"Perhaps it will be easier for you to listen to me if you can see me," he said. His voice now not just in the air like an invisible presenter. "Because I think you want to hear what I have to say."

I had to wet my lips before I could answer. My gaze still drawn to his form like a moth to a flame. "You have not yet introduced yourselves."

"Ah," he made a motion with his hand that should have looked indifferent, but I sensed it wasn't, "you are right. Even though I think you already know who you're talking to. Don't you?"

Why was our conversation so eerily similar to the one I had had with Maglor? Were they both related in ways I could not yet guess? "Morgoth," I said simply, watching his reaction closely. But there was no emotion on his face. Only when he spoke could I hear the anger in his voice: "That name was given to me by Fëanor, a mockery of the truth."

"Oh yeah?"

He left my counter question unanswered and instead took two steps toward me. I tried to back up, but couldn't move. Morgoth smiled, and though the smile didn't reach his eyes, I couldn't help but notice that he was beautiful. Not just handsome, but aesthetic in an ethereal sort of way. Something told me that he had deliberately chosen that shape. And that repelled me. "What do you want?", I therefore asked bluntly.

With a slight shake of his head, as if he had to forgive a disobedient child, he stopped. "You have long known of my wants. Makalaurë surely will have taken care of that already."

I said nothing in reply. Any of my answers would have told him more than he had a right to know. But my usual keen sense of the thin line between truth and lies apparently deserted me, for Morgoth said, "Of course he has. Now then, since he has offered you his help, I would like to do the same."

"Your... help? With what?"

"You carry a heavy burden, Aspen. Wouldn't you feel lighter if all this were no longer your concern?"

Again I was silent.

"I see you are harder to convince than I thought." He interrupted himself. "Then let me be a little clearer: To fulfill the plan of the Valar, my fair brothers and sisters, they require a pawn sacrifice. For the oath that surrounds the Silmaril has long since affected them as well. Their desire to possess the Silmaril has made them as weak as Fëanor and his... sons." Pause. "Can you already imagine who this pawn will be?"

"I assume you are referring to me."

"Indeed." As he took two more steps closer, a shiver ran down my spine. "They need you to put the Silmaril back together because you have no personal agenda. You don't want to possess it, so you can touch its fragments – as long as they are not reassembled, of course. No mortal is capable of holding a Silmaril when it shines in its pure form."

"So?" I didn't see the problem, but he would surely get to that in a moment.

"You will lose everything you hold dear in trying to put it back together," he replied without elaboration, "perhaps even your life. Is this worth it to you?"

"I haven't decided that yet." I looked him firmly in the eye, "But I don't quite see your part in this play." It was better to let him think he had a foot in the door. Of course I wouldn't take him up on his offer, but it was clear to me now why he had called me in: he thought I was easily manipulated. Just a human who could be lured by promises – no matter how utterly utopian they were.

"My role," he laughed, "Well, my role is that of a director." That he saw himself that way did not surprise me. He was convinced of his grandiosity. "And you could relieve yourself of the burden that rests on your shoulders while you concern yourself with my task."

"By leaving the fragments to you?", I offered with a raised eyebrow.

"For example."

Now we were getting closer. So he was as hungry for the Silmaril as everyone else. Still, "If Maglor can't touch them, and even the Valar can't, and need me as an executive force: Why do you think you could hold them?"

"You are right, I cannot." His eyes glittered. "But as much as I long to hold them again in all their glory: The Silmaril are only of use to me broken."

Of course. I had forgotten that. If I was to believe Maglor's tale, Morgoth had to have the Silmaril destroyed in order to get free. So his goal was the exact opposite of the Valar's: they wanted to reassemble the broken Silmaril and prevent the second from being found and destroyed, Morgoth wanted to see at least two of them broken. "What's stopping you from just taking them?"

The question was sincere – because I didn't understand why he was asking for my help. Did he also need me, in a similar way as he accused the Valar of? Was I to become his pawn?

I appeared to have said something very amusing, because a mocking grin played around his mouth. "You," he finally replied. "You're keeping me from it."

I narrowed my eyes. "You mean, I manage to slip through your fingers like a bee in clover, and you thought you'd better have a word with that bee in person before it does something stupid?"

"A truly fitting analogy."

Instead of a reply, I snorted and bit my lip. Still, I couldn't suppress the next question, I was too curious, "If I agree: What's in for me?"

The glint in Morgoth's eyes had grown stronger; he thought he had reached his goal. And yes, I had to admit, I wanted to hear what he was offering. For so far he had proposed a rather one-sided deal. "I was wondering when you would ask that question."

"Well," I crossed my arms in front of my chest, "as you can see, the time has come."

Morgoth took a moment before replying, "If you keep your end of the bargain and dispose of the Silmaril pieces, you have my word that I will ensure that you do not spend just the years of a single human life with your Elf."

My heart skipped a beat. Of course he knew about Legolas, but for some reason I had not expected Morgoth to bring up the subject. A misconception, for it was my weak spot. And he took advantage of it – without hesitation. "What do you mean?"

"Even if you survive all the tasks the Valar may yet impose on you, you will still live only a human life. You will die, sooner rather than later. And for what?"

I looked at him, waiting, then said, "You want to make me immortal?"

"Oh, no." He shook his head. "But I can extend your life, by many years."

"But in the end, I would still die."

He raised his shoulders, almost apologetically. "There are some things that can't be changed."

I let that sit for now. I didn't know if Morgoth actually had the power to prolong my life, and if so, how he would do it. After all, he was evil, if I wanted to quote Maglor. Letting him touch my life energy sounded unhealthy. And that was exactly why it was time to end the conversation. I had to find a way out and get back into my body. So I gave myself an internal push and said, "This all sounds very interesting, but... I need a little more time to think it over."

At the same time, I watched Morgoth closely. But he apparently had expected my request. "Understandable." His gaze bored sharply into mine. "But don't take too long."

"Or else?"

"My offer is only good while the moon is still full in the sky." He closed the distance between us, standing now directly in front of me. Nausea welled up inside me. His proximity was too much, everything in me wanted to flee but couldn't. "So you should decide quickly."

Following an instinct, I wanted to take a step back, but Morgoth still held me captive. It was impossible for me to move. "And, Aspen," he said as he leaned forward a bit more. As he did so, his long hair touched my cheeks. "I urge you to choose the right side. You may regret your decision otherwise."

My stomach tightened, another shiver ran down my spine. His threat hovered in the air as sinister as the storm cloud that had followed us just before Lorien. I wanted to ask what would happen otherwise. What he was threatening me with. But it was too late for that.

Morgoth raised his left hand and stroked my cheek with a fingertip. Then he whispered, his lips right against my ear, "Go."

And I went.

As if there had been a hook in my belly button the whole time, I was yanked upward and back into the tunnel I had come through. The surroundings around me blurred until I shot up with a scream.

I was back in the cave.

But it took me a moment to understand.

As if paralyzed, I sat upright on the fur I had just been laying on. I had lost all sense of time, plus my head felt like it was about to explode. It wasn't until I put my hands on my temples and squeezed my eyes tightly shut that I realized the suppressed sounds of pain I was hearing were coming from my own mouth.

"Aspen!" Someone was beside me, trying to remove my right hand from my temple, but I hissed and only clenched it all the more tightly. Briefly the pain increased, then a second person leaned over me and ran their index finger across my forehead.

Almost immediately the hurt subsided.

Breathing heavily, I lowered my hands. They were trembling. My vision wasn't quite clear yet either, the sides were blurry, but at least I didn't have to squint my eyes anymore.

Legolas knelt beside me, Maglor stood before me. He eyed me sharply. "I assume it was not your intention to astral travel."

"No," I whispered. "It wasn't."

"Has that ever happened before?"

I wanted to deny, but Legolas said, "On the way to Lothlórien. It was different then, but... in retrospect, it makes sense."

"In what way?" Maglor asked, addressing Legolas.

"Aspen has been without consciousness for several days. It almost seemed like she was just sleeping, but her spirit was too far away for me to be able to track it down."

Our time in Lothlórien seemed a lifetime away and I found it hard to concentrate, but Legolas was right: I had seen a dark figure then, a crown on its head. With my knowledge today, it could have been only one: Morgoth. But how had he managed to reach me there in my awake form and force me into the dream realm? And would he be able to do it a second time?

A bolt of pain shot through my head, worse than any migraine. With a groan, I closed my eyes again. "I don't remember ever having a conversation with... anyone," I managed.

"Humans don't usually remember their astral travels, nor their dreams. Unless they are helped to do so. I just did," Maglor countered. "Who were you talking to?"

The question sounded neutral, but I sensed it wasn't. And I also sensed that I should keep that information to myself for now. "I..." I broke off. "I don't know."

"Are you sure?" Maglor asked, probing.

But Legolas saved me. "Let her catch a breath."

Carefully, I opened my eyes again, but continued to avoid looking at the fire. The light was just too bright. "Yes," I said simply.

Maglor looked at me for another heartbeat, his gaze piercing, before he bent down for his cloak. "I will go and search for your companions. Stay here until then." He threw on his cloak, but before leaving the cave, he added, "Do not fall asleep Aspen until I return. I don't have to tell you what might happen."

No. He didn't have to.

With a nod, I indicated that I understood. That was enough for Maglor, because he turned and was gone from my sight shortly thereafter. I remained sitting in the same position for a short while, then turned to Legolas, "How long have I been asleep?"

"I can't say for sure, a few hours since I awoke."

"Hours?", I asked, hearing my voice jump up. "It felt like a couple of minutes. But that explains a lot." After all, dreams never felt as long as they really were. Time passed differently in sleep.

"It does." He hesitated. "The last time, in Lothlórien... you must have had a significantly longer conversation."

"If I had any conversation at all." I ran my hand over my face. "I don't remember that."

"And this time?" He looked at me at least as piercingly as Maglor. "I know you well enough, Aspen, to be aware when you're lying."

"Is that so?", I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Aye."

Of course he'd noticed I'd been hiding something. "It was because of Maglor."

"That's what I thought."

He gave me the time I needed to find the right words, but they just wouldn't come to me. Finally, I just said, "Morgoth. He... he made me an offer."

The elf's eyes widened. Then I remembered that Legolas could not possibly know what Maglor and I had talked about while he had been resting. So I told him everything, bit by bit. And with each sentence, with each piece of information he got, I felt him tense up more. When I finished, he was standing by the fire, one arm propped on his hip. Maglor had secured the other with a loop around his neck so that the arrow wound on his shoulder would not be moved. "In my darkest hours, I would not have believed that the New Shadow would actually rise so soon after our victory," he murmured. "I thought... it would take more time."

"Sauron was only ever a henchman," I replied.

The elf stared into the flames. "We opened the door for him."

"What do you mean?"

"Sauron was a powerful enemy, but one we could understand. He was an unworldly being, with worldly desires. He craved power: over Middle-earth, over men, over us... but Morgoth..." Legolas broke off.

Even though I wasn't sure my legs would carry me, I stood up as well. Seeing him so distressed only made me realize the real scope of the developments. I had not lived long enough in this world to understand it fully, nor was I familiar with all the lore and legends. I had been aware that Morgoth must have been a powerful being, that he had played a significant role in the wars of the First Age. But what he really was, I had not been able to grasp until now. "You could not have let Sauron rule as he pleased," I tried to rebut Legolas' words. "You did the right thing."

"Did we?" he asked, raising his head. "I'm not sure anymore."

Slowly, I stepped up beside him and placed a hand on his healthy shoulder. "You can't let one devil live because he keeps the other in check."

"Devil?" the elf asked.

"Oh," I shook my head, "that... is just another term for evil."

"Hmm." He glanced at my hand and I lowered it again. "What are you going to choose?"

"Is that a serious question?"

"Well," he turned to me, "I would understand if you were to give in to the weight of that responsibility."

"To do what?", I asked. "None of us have a choice anymore. Why should I have my life extended – to watch Morgoth destroy the world after I throw away the Silmaril shards? No. If I give in now, it won't help anyone, least of all me."

He lowered his eyes, saying nothing.

With a furrowed brow, I inquired, "You can't want me to accept Morgoth's offer?"

"No," he hastened to say, "but…"

"But what?"

Again he was silent.

"But what, Legolas?"

He ran his hand over his face. "I have sworn to guide and protect you."

"You still can," I said quietly, "more than ever, I fear."

"To what end?"

Involuntarily, I had to swallow. "What?"

"If the end is already determined, we are embarking on forlorn hope." Now it was he who turned. "Morgoth is the father of all evil, Aspen. Defeating him is akin to a miracle. Even the Valar were able to do it only with great effort."

"We don't have to defeat him, just make sure he doesn't break out." I sought his gaze. "And who says the end is set? The odds are against us, I admit, but I'm hanging on for dear life, believe me. We've come this far. I'm not going to give up now."

"You're honored by that." He didn't look me in the eye and my heart suddenly felt like someone was holding it in their hand and squeezing it tight. I almost couldn't breathe. "Will you continue to stand by my side?", I asked softly, hearing the fear in my voice.

With a slight frown, Legolas finally lifted his gaze. His eyes softened as he looked at me. "Of course, I have sworn it," he replied, as if the very question was an insult. Perhaps it was. Because a word was still worth something here in Middle Earth. I always had to remember that.

Still, I had to know, "Do you wish you had never met me?"

He still hadn't released my gaze. "No."

"Then what?"

"Don't you already know?" Carefully, as if he feared I would shy away, he brushed a strand of hair from my face.

"I'm not sure," I replied. My pulse was beating so fast in my throat now that I had to swallow again.

"I haven't been for a long time either."

"But you are now?"

"Yes," he said, placing his right index finger under my chin, "I am now."

I felt his breath on my skin, his lips on mine. Gently, but firmly. And I let myself fall into that kiss like it was all that mattered. It was so different from the first. Not born of doubt and desire, but of certainty.

"I love you, Aspen," he whispered against my lips. "And I will stand by your side as long as you want me there."