Minas Tirith

4 years later

"Hey, Aspen, make sure you serve table three. The gentlemen already look thirsty!"

With rolling my eyes, I wiped the sweat from my forehead. The gentlemen had been looking thirsty all day, a little more so with each passing hour and each drained pint of beer. They would have to be patient, I had to tap a new barrel first.

I wiped my hands on my apron and left the taproom of the Golden Crow. As promising as the name of my workplace sounded, its inner workings were run down. Nevertheless, it had offered me a home since the day I fell from my old life at the city gates of Minas Tirith. The city had been destroyed by the War of the Ring, many of its inhabitants had died. Every hand was needed, even or especially in the taverns of Minas Tirith. Girdis had taken me from the streets and given me a chance. She owned the Golden Crow as one of the few women in business. She had dressed me, given me a room below the Sixth Ring, and let me keep my tips as long as I learned the language. By now I spoke passable Westron, even though every stranger asked me where my accent came from. I couldn't tell them the truth, so I had resorted to claiming that I was from the East. Where exactly I did not say. Girdis had never cared as long as I did my work and for that I was grateful. The last four years had been hard and it had taken me a long while to accept that I would not be able to simply return home. That I was now living in a different society, not unlike that of Europe in the Middle Ages. And that I was not part of the fine society in their flowing robes that resided in the First Ring.

No.

I belonged to the commoners. Only people who were not allowed anywhere else could be seen in our tavern. That was one of the reasons why I had adopted a hard shell in the last four years and two small daggers in a garter, which I also knew how to use. Girdis had not been able to believe it when I had admitted that I had never held a weapon in my hand. That was why she had sent me to training shortly after I arrived with Earun. At that time I spoke only a few words of Westron, but it was enough to learn how to hold a dagger. Earun was another waitress who worked at the Golden Crow. A few years older than me, she was nevertheless a true sunshine who knew how to defend herself well. Just like me, however, she spoke little of her homeland. I knew she was originally from Rohan, but she had never told me more. There was a kind of silent agreement between us: I asked her nothing and she asked me nothing. We kept it superficial and each other's backs when guests got pushy. We were both content with that, and even though I had made a few friends in the time I had been living in Minas Tirith - I had never really arrived. There was a great gulf between me and the people who surrounded me, and I never overcame it.

I didn't belong here.

And therefore, I would never connect with them more than by the work I was doing.

With a groan, I heaved the next barrel into position. Hallas could have quietly prepared it already, but he was more concerned with keeping an eye on the money bets.
After refilling the pints and delivering them to table three, I caught Girdis's gaze. She gave me a curt nod and I heaved a sigh of relief.

My early shift was over, I could finally get back to my room and then do what I'd been spending my free time doing for the past year or so: research.
I hurriedly untied my apron and hung it up in the back room. Then I waved to Hallas, who returned my greeting only with half an eye, and left the tavern.
It wasn't long before I had freshened up in my room and I made my way to the First Ring. The further up I climbed, the less the destruction of the war, which I had thankfully missed by two years, was visible. The streets were not dirty even in the Seventh Ring, but piles of rubble were still a normal sight even after all this time. The dwarves, who had taken it upon themselves to rebuild the city, had not yet gotten as far as there.

My destination was the library. Girdis had also insisted that I learn to read and write. It had quickly become clear to her that I had enjoyed a good education where I came from. She had never asked, but I was convinced that what I had learned at home helped me grasp the tavern's operations more quickly. She had put me in charge of the bookkeeping as soon as I was reasonably fluent in Westron and had been expanding my activities ever since.

This had all played into my hands, because I too had quickly learned that the only way to get information in this world was very old-fashioned. And what I was looking for was not something that everyone knew about. Or anyone, really. Although the library and archives of Gondor were among the largest in Middle-earth, I had only ever come across one piece of writing that told of a traveler who did not come from any of the known lands. And this writing had unfortunately all too quickly turned out to be folklore.

I passed the last gate before the First Ring. There the library was located.

Every time I came here, I felt uncomfortable, because actually I should not have entered it at all. My luck had been that I had saved the neck of Baran, who worked as an assistant for one of the archivists, in the Golden Crow one evening. How he had found his way into our tavern was still a mystery to me, but I had seized the opportunity.

A quick glance to the right and left, then I slipped through a side entrance into the library with the helpf of a counterfeit key. Once inside, no one asked any questions, the way was the problem. I even had a small table, way downstairs away from any visitors, where I collected what I thought was relevant to show me a way home.

Unfortunately, it wasn't much.

But I had only explored a fraction of the library even after a whole year. So I didn't give up my hunt. Somewhere here among all the scrolls and leather-bound books there had to be an answer to my questions. I pushed the thought that I was the only one as far away from me as possible.

But today I had no luck again.

After spending the entire afternoon reading a book about a traveler from Rhûn who claimed to have sailed beyond the borders of the known world, I gave up. Much of what I looked at was nothing more than hearsay. Not really to be called a source.

With a sigh, I straightened up and ran my hands over my eyes. They were tired because I had been working non-stop since this morning. The break was supposed to be for me to sleep. But if I didn't use the time between shifts, I wasn't doing anything but working and thus would never find a way to get home.

And I couldn't let that happen. The hope of hearing a plane fly over my head one more time and flushing a darn toilet spurred me on.

For today, though, I had to end my search, because the night shift was calling. Fortunately, the Golden Crow closed early today, meaning shortly after midnight. Still, I was late, later than usual. I had to hurry.

As discreetly as possible, I closed the side door of the library behind me again and had almost reached the gate leading out of the First Ring when I heard the voices.

Shit.

This wasn't good.

Normally, I didn't encounter anyone on this route. Everyone who visited the library the normal way used the main entrance. This way was for the staff. I was meticulous about not coming or going at the end of shifts, so who was that?

I briefly thought about going back inside, but then I would arrive too late at the Golden Crow. I had no choice but to keep walking.

The voices came closer, they were talking about the reconstruction of the city. One of them sounded a little grumpy, the other... gentle? I couldn't quite place it, but they both undoubtedly belonged to men. Something else that made me play nervously at the end of my braid. I was alone and the experience I had had at the tavern had made me suspicious.

Then they turned the corner.

A dwarf and an elf. Both were still so engrossed in their conversation that they hadn't noticed me. Inside I froze to ice, because I immediately recognized that they belonged to the nobility: Their clothes, their whole demeanor exuded the self-confidence of people who knew where they stood in this world. Just then the dwarf said, "Nain has told me that the Third Ring will be completed by the end of summer - plenty of time for you to plant trees, Elven Princeling."

"I do not plant trees, Gimli. You should know that by now."

"Oh, no, you'll just wake them up to do the walking themselves." The dwarf seemed more than pleased with his counter, for he emitted a deep chuckle immediately after.

I stared at both of them as we unstoppably moved closer. There was not the slightest chance that they wouldn't see me. That meant I had to hope they didn't notice that I wasn't wearing library staff clothing, otherwise I had a huge problem.

At that moment, the elf turned his head.

Our eyes didn't just meet, it felt like they were intertwining. I just couldn't look away, even though I knew that was the stupidest thing I could do.
Not draw attention to myself. Head down. Eyes lowered.

That was the rule whenever we had to deal with nobility. If you could avoid it, you avoided it, and if you couldn't avoid it, at least you didn't stay in their memory. Especially not when you weren't even supposed to be here.

Fuck.

He broke our eye contact first, a small wrinkle had formed on his forehead. I had seen some elves before. They helped rebuild Minas Tirith along with the dwarves. But none like him yet.

Then we had gone past each other, and I scolded myself for being a fool. That he had noticed me was obvious. All that remained was to hope that he didn't remember me.

As fast as I could and without looking back, I left the gate to the Second Ring behind me and soon dived into more familiar territory. As soon as I reached the Sixth Ring, I felt more at ease. Here I knew every stone and where to take cover.

"There you are!" Earun tapped an empty pint on the counter as I slid up next to her at the counter and fished for my apron.

"Sorry, it's been busy."

"No problem. You've got tables five to ten."

"Anything I should know?" I looked around the tavern, but with the exception of the usual customers, it was still quite empty. Quieter throughout the day, that would soon change.

"Nothing that we don't know. Watch out for the man at table six, he's been looking too deep into his glass for hours. Could be he's going to keel over."

"Noted." With that, I reached for our card and braced myself for another night of toasts and slurred life stories that didn't interest me in the slightest.

The evening passed quite quickly, I had plenty to do and collected quite a bit of tips, which was just fine with me. It was just after ten when I stood behind the counter again to refill two pints. I was so busy not letting them overflow that I didn't notice Earun until she elbowed me in the side. "Ouch!" Beer spilled over the edge of the mug and I looked at her angrily. "What are you doing?"

"Don't turn around."

"What?" I frowned. "Why?"

"There are two walk-ins at table nine. They've been watching you since they came in."

Cautiously, I tried to glance over my shoulder, but Earun shook her head once sharply. "What do they look like?", I asked.

"Well, that's the thing. One is a dwarf, not unusual. But the other... he's one of the forest elves."

Oh no. I knew immediately who she was talking about. Even though part of me hoped it was another elf and another dwarf, I guessed the odds were very slim.
At that moment, Girdis came out of the storage room. "Aspen," she nodded at me, "table nine is waiting to be served. What are you waiting for?"

My heart leapt. "I...I was still filling up the pints for the group," I stammered.

"Girdis, I can take the nine," Earun offered immediately. She had to sense something was wrong, but my boss didn't seem impressed. "No, you're needed over there. Hallas is clearing barrels right now. I'll take over your tables until then."

Shit.

That meant I had to go over to the two of them.

I bit my lip. Then I took a deep breath, lifted the refilled beer steins and delivered them to the table for which they were intended. After that, I turned and headed for the nine. I could see what Earun meant, because every step I took was watched, especially by the elf already as I started walking at the other end of the tavern.
That wasn't a good sign. Truly it wasn't. My gut told me I was in deep shit. Elves never strayed into the Golden Crow. And certainly not ones who belonged to nobility. There was a minimal chance that the dwarf had coerced his elf friend into going out for a drink, but really, I knew that couldn't be true.

Nevertheless, I put on my usual face, which did not allow any conclusions to be drawn about my inner state. At least, that's what I hoped.

"What can I bring you?" As I asked the question, I ignored the elf, who was still eyeing me with his piercing gaze, and focused on the dwarf instead, who seemed less frightening.

"A tankard of your summer ale," the dwarf said. I nodded and forced myself to turn to the elf. "And you?"

For a moment he didn't reply, then said, "A wine, please."

"We have no wine." And I would have preferred not to say what I said next, but I couldn't help myself, "We are a tavern in the Seventh Ring, in case you haven't noticed. Wine is too expensive for our customers." I heard the dwarf chuckle.

"Well." The elf was still looking at me with that enervating gaze. "Then I'll have the same as my friend."

"Fine." I nodded again curtly. "Two ale. Coming right up."

Before either of them could add anything else, I turned on my heel and headed back to the counter. My heart had leapt into my throat with nervousness, my hands were sweaty. No, it was no coincidence that they were here. The only question was why they hadn't just sent a couple of king's guards to get me. Why had they come themselves?

The pints for the two were filled far too quickly and I carried them back to their table feeling even worse. After silently setting the beers down in front of the two, I was about to leave, but the elf stopped me. "May I ask you a question?" I would have preferred to say no, and he must have seen that on my face, too, because before I could say anything back, he was already starting his question, "Where is your accent from?"

"From the East," I said crisply.

"Where from, exactly?"

"Why is that any of your business?" We measured each other with glances. "If you want to order more - I'll be at the counter." With that, everything was said on my part, but the elf didn't seem to be done yet. "What were you in the library for?"

Again I turned around. More slowly this time. "Did you follow me all over town to ask me that question?", I said dangerously quietly. Earun was back from the storage and I had seen that she had her eyes on me. That gave me the courage not to back down.

The expression on the dwarf's face told me that I was right. They had followed me. And that was not good news, because his look also revealed something else: It had not been his idea. The elf had instigated it.

"Why don't you just answer the question?" He hadn't touched his ale yet. But that didn't matter to me. "Because my business is nobody's business but my own," I answered as calmly as I could. "I didn't steal anything, if that's why you took the troublesome journey out of the Inner Ring," I added, the sarcasm in my voice hard to miss.

"That is certainly not what my friend meant to imply," the dwarf hastened to say. "Didn't you, Legolas?" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him kick the elf in the shins under the table. The latter, however, was not fazed by it.

"If I can't help you in any other way, I wish you a pleasant evening."

This time I didn't let him stop me, and as I returned to the counter, Earun put a hand on my forearm. "Gather yourself for five minutes. Hallas is out of the storage room." She nodded her head toward the back rooms and I accepted gratefully.

As soon as the door closed behind me, I lost my composure. With trembling hands, I dropped onto one of the empty beer barrels and listened to my own breathing as it frantically announced my state of agitation. Everyone had warned me. The Inner Rings were no place for people like us. People who lived from hand to mouth. Being drawn into the conspiracies of the nobility always ended badly for us. Things had improved since Aragorn's coronation, but no matter how generous a single king was, he still needed an apparatus to carry out his orders. And this apparatus was still the one Denethor had sworn to himself years before. Corruption and bribery were the order of the day, and down here, Aragorn's reign had not yet arrived.

Something else troubled me. It was a vague memory. An echo from another world: Legolas's name had reminded me of what I hadn't understood until a few months after my arrival, when I spoke Westron well enough to ask questions. I was in Middle Earth, a place that had long existed for me only in movies and books. Fictional. Not real. I had remembered that Tolkien had claimed to have invented Middle Earth as the mythological underbelly of my then-present. So I had initially assumed that I had somehow slipped between book pages - only after the events described in The Lord of the Rings. It was only a good two months ago that I had found out that Middle Earth was actually in Earth's past. A past that was now my present. And Legolas had been one of the heroes who had made possible the present as it now presented itself to me. This made him part of King Aragorn's inner circle and all the more dangerous to me. I could only hope that he did not set out to follow me further.

I allowed myself three more minutes in which I concentrated on calming my breathing. Then I stood up and returned to the taproom.
Although I didn't want to, my eyes slid to table nine first.

But it was empty.

With a frown, I looked over to Earun, but she just shrugged her shoulders. So I went to collect the pints. The dwarf's was empty. The elf hadn't even tried it. But he had stacked a pile of silver Castars next to it, well over the price of a beer - which was a Tharni, or a quarter of a Castar.

I briefly considered not accepting the money, but in the end I took it. Hopefully it would help me return home sooner or later.