Dagor Dagorath

When I first saw Celeborn, I held my breath. I had already thought the other elves who were rebuilding Minas Tirith with the dwarves were sublime. They appeared to be so different: the way they walked, the way they moved, their voices and gestures - all of it was otherworldly. They cared about different things than we humans did. Their focus so very distinct that they mostly kept to themselves. Legolas seemed to be an exception to this, he was way more approachable. Whether that was because of his friendship with Gimli, Aragorn, and the other fellows, or because he was a Wood Elf, I couldn't say for sure. Of course, Legolas also had his moments, and not necessarily few, when he was such a typical elf that Gimli and I just looked at each other shaking our heads. For example, when he stood absorbed in front of a tree as if he were in a profound conversation. Perhaps that really was the case. Still, Legolas seemed to understand the human world better than many of his kind. And not only that: he made it his own. And that was the essential point that distinguished him from the others.

Celeborn, on the other hand... I had to swallow and looked down at the tips of my toes, unable to withstand his gaze any longer. I almost had the impression that he was looking into me, straight into the depths of my heart. If he was already unsettling me like this, I didn't want to know what it would have been like with Galadriel if she were still here. I almost considered myself lucky that she had sailed west to the immortal lands a few years ago, shortly after Aragorn had been crowned king. Because I wouldn't have even been able to meet her gaze at all, I was sure of it.

"I see you have rested," he said, breaking the silence that had settled over us when we had met him near a well. "I am glad to see you recovered."

"Thank you," I said, immediately feeling terribly clumsy. "For your hospitality."

He bowed his head slightly, then turned to Legolas and addressed him in Elvish. They exchanged a few phrases, some of which I recognized, after which Celeborn greeted Gimli as well. He seemed to accept the greeting indifferently, but I knew him well enough by now to notice that he was disgruntled. Carefully, I put a hand on his shoulder and he relaxed.

"I can guess why you have sought out Lothlorien," Celeborn said. Again his gaze seemed to bore particularly into mine. "And I sense the shadow, as do you, Legolas Thranduilion. As does your father." Legolas did not respond, but the mention of his father made me sit up and take notice. We had talked about many things, including the Greenwood, but so far Legolas had not mentioned his father with a single word. I wondered what that was about.

"Do you wish my counsel, Aspen?" Celeborn asked, drawing me back from my thoughts into reality with his question. "Or is our hospitality enough for you?"

Involuntarily, I had to swallow. The way he pronounced my name sent a shiver down my spine and I wondered how much he knew. Neither Legolas nor Gimli had really prepared me for the visit. Probably mostly because they themselves didn't know what was coming. And as much as I would have liked to look to my left to see their reaction or ask their permission - they could not make that decision for me. I had fallen to Middle Earth, the stone was bound to me as the Ring was bound to Frodo. It remained to hope that it was not similarly malevolent.

Therefore I said, "If you will give me advice, I will gladly take it."

Again Celeborn bowed his head and then replied, "Show it to me."

I frowned briefly, but I knew what he meant: the stone pieces. I quickly unfastened the small pouch from my skirt and opened it. Then I pulled the two stone pieces out of it and handed them to the elf. It felt as if I was giving him a part of my future, and I desperately hoped that Celeborn would not decide to take the stone pieces away from me. Because if he did, I would never get back home. That's what my gut told me.

We waited. My gaze was on Celeborn and I felt my own tenseness like a knife in my back. The elf had been turning the stones back and forth between his thumb and forefinger for several minutes now, his brow furrowed. As if he couldn't believe what he was holding. "It's not possible," he finally said. "And yet it must be true."

Before I could say anything back, Gimli chimed in, "What do you mean?"

As the silence dragged on, Legolas added, "Lord Celeborn?"

For a moment, the addressed Elf hesitated before handing me back the stone pieces and asking me directly, "Do you know the prophecy surrounding Dagor Dagorath?"

Legolas and I exchanged a brief glance before I replied, "No."

"Then I will tell it to you." Celeborn motioned for us to follow him. The three of us started moving, leaving the well behind us. "The Dagor Dagorath is the last and greatest of all battles," Celeborn began after we had walked a few meters. "Its purpose is to achieve the final victory over evil, over the shadows of this world." He made a sweeping motion as if the shadows were also licking at the borders of Lothlorien already. Perhaps they were doing so at that very moment. "After the battle, the world will change, for the better. There will be no more troubles."

"So it's kind of like paradise," I said more to myself than to Celeborn, and would have liked to bite off my tongue at the same moment. Fortunately, he passed over my throw-in. "Connected to the Dagor Dagorath, however, are always the Silmarill, the three gems crafted by Fëanor before the First Age from the essence of Valinor's trees, Laurelin and Telperion. They were one of, if not the most precious wonders ever produced by the Elven race, and the fate of Arda is closely tied to that of the Silmarill." Celeborn had stopped when we reached a point from which a good part of the forest could be seen. The treetops swayed gently in the wind as he continued, "The prophecy says that after the end of Dagor Dagorath, Fëanor will break open the Silmarill, and with their light Laurelin and Telperion shall be revived, and the light of the trees will fill Arda with eternal bliss in a new age."

He fell silent and neither of us said a word. I had the feeling that Celeborn wanted to give me time to digest the new knowledge, and it was much needed. I had a rough idea of Middle Earth, but I didn't know anything about the lore. I had so many questions and it was difficult for me to find one or two to ask him out of the chaos of my thoughts. The Dagor Dagorath sounded like a biblical battle - only without the bible part. What came after, sounded like paradise, only here they called it something else. And the fact that it all felt much more likely, much closer, to me than anything believed by people in my time scared me. Like it was going to start at any moment.

After taking a few minutes to halfway sort out my mental turmoil, one question finally did stand out, which was why I decided to ask: "What does this story have to do with the stones I brought?"

A barely noticeable smile played around his mouth. Again, I felt like a child who didn't see the obvious - but maybe it was better if I took that part. After all, it affected me the most of all of us, so I had to understand what it was about, too. Didn't I?

"Before I answer your question, you must know that only the whereabouts of one of the Silmarills is known. The other two are lost in earth and water. If you believe the prophecy, they will be returned by the Valar at the right moment."

"To be opened by Fëanor."

"Right." He gazed out at the forest. It was early morning, a light mist hung over the treetops that would dissipate as the day wore on. "They are indestructible, no human is capable of harming them. Most can't even touch them in their intact form. And it is of utmost importance at which time the stones are opened."

"After the Dagor Dagorath?", I echoed.

Celeborn nodded. "Only then can the trees be revived, and only then can Arda shine with new light."

"But..." He raised a hand, and I broke off. "What do you think will happen if a Silmarill is opened before its time?"

I pondered for a moment before answering, "The evil remains in the world?"

"Worse," said the Elf, and I saw in his face that the very idea caused him pain. "The Dagor Dagorath will come and go, but the end result will not be the same."

"So evil will be allowed to exist? Like Aspen said" Legolas asked from the side.

"Not only may it be allowed to endure, it will control the fate of Arda," Celeborn replied.

"But...", I started again, but this time it didn't take a raised forefinger from the elf to silence me.

I had wanted to ask the same question as before: What it all had to do with the pieces of stone that had brought me here. Why he had told me this story. But I didn't need to ask it again, because something had just slipped into place.

I had to swallow again as I opened my hand and looked at the two pieces of stone. "Did I understand you correctly: These are the remains of a broken Silmarill?"

Celeborn didn't reply, but he didn't need to. Sometimes silence was the equivalent of a threat. And what he left unspoken frightened me in a way I couldn't even properly grasp. If I held the remains of one of three Silmarills in my hands, what did that mean for the fate of the world? And with it... for the fate of my future?

Legolas touched my arm and I let the stone pieces slide back into the pouch.

This had just gotten so much bigger than I would have ever imagined. And yet, the most important question for me remained: Would I make it back home, ever?