Obligation and Destiny

No reaction.

No fucking reaction.

For a heartbeat I waited, then raised my head and listened. It was still tell-tale silent. Not a grass blade buckled under the tread of a carefully placed foot. But that didn't have to mean anything. Maybe they were already behind me and I just didn't notice. After all: The fog had become thicker again. It was so heavy that I had the feeling of being wrapped in a cotton blanket, closed off from the world.

When nothing happened, I uttered a silent curse and straightened up. It was not going to work that way. The only other option I had left was to drag Legolas into the forest. Assuming I was able to make it there, we would be safe for the time being. But not for long, because Celeborn's men would not stop at a few trees. After all, the entrance to the Woodland Realm was several kilometers to the north, if I had understood Legolas correctly. Not to mention the orcs.

As fast as I could, I knelt behind the elf and lifted his upper body with some effort. I would have loved to slap him again. But he could not help the situation any more than I did. Still, a body in which not a single muscle was tense was heavy. Thank God we were almost the same height, which gave me not only a sense of authority in the right moments, but also the sheer strength to move him now.

When the back of his head rested against my sternum, I paused for a moment, then slipped my hands under his armpits, braced myself, and pulled. Nothing happened at first, but after trying a few times, I got the hang of it.

Little by little.

An inch at a time.

As slow as a freaking snail.

It was Sisyphean work, pushing me to and beyond my personal limits, but what choice did I have? I wouldn't leave him behind. Not here. Nor anywhere else. Besides, without him, my chances of survival were close to zero anyway.

With a groan, I continued to drag Legolas across the ground. I knew the forest was somewhere behind us, but how far I had to make it - I had no idea. Yet just like our run through the grasslands, I focused on the task at hand, putting every ounce of strength I had left into it. My teeth clenched tightly on my lower lip, it seemed like an eternity as sweat trickled down my face.

I was so fixated on moving forward that I realized too late that the silence was no longer only broken by my erratic breaths. It wasn't until a hand grabbed my shoulder and yanked me around violently that I was catapulted out of my tunnel view.

With a surprised yelp, I let go of Legolas, tripping over my own feet in the process and landing roughly on a patch of grass.

That saved my life.

Because the instant I went down, a blade cut the air above me that would have separated my head from my body if I had fallen just a second slower. Then everything happened very quickly: out of the corner of my eye I saw the dagger of a fallen enemy lying within my reach. I grasped it without thinking. The hilt was full of blood that had not yet dried, but I held it anyway. My opponent was still right in front of me, surprised by my unplanned maneuver. Or rather, his legs were, belonging to an orc.

So they were alive, at least some of them.

The thought shot through my head like lightning in a stormy night sky and was gone just as quickly. Next, I rolled over and drew the blade across the back of the creature's knees. It slumped, as had its companions before who had gotten in my way. With trembling hands, I got back to my feet, took a step forward, and plunged the blade into the orc's neck.

He rasped, trying to pull it out. But failed, and it wasn't long before he toppled face forward into the grass.

I felt nothing. Just watched him do it. It was as if it was not I who was ending the lives of these creatures. As if I was watching an alien arm, an alien hand, killing. Why wasn't it finally over?

But fate did not mean well with me. From further back in the mist, I could see the outlines of more orcs rushing toward us as if they had suddenly remembered what their task was.

It was hopeless and I knew it.

I stopped briefly in front of the corpse, then staggered toward Legolas and let myself slide to the ground at his side. The adrenaline high that had gotten me this far was spent. I had no more strength. It was over.

The certainty of having done everything in my power made me become calmer. Carefully, so as not to hurt him, I laid my head on the elf's chest and my hand on his healthy shoulder. With my eyes closed, I listened to the beating of his heart, the trampling of the approaching orc feet nothing more than a rumble in the background. If this was the end, I wanted to spend it next to the man I loved.

And that's exactly what I was doing.

Why I only truly realized this now, in this situation, was a mystery to me. Maybe it took extreme circumstances to overcome my extreme lack of conception - or should I say stubbornness? Maybe I should have told him before what and how I was feeling? Perhaps that would have made a difference? I had never felt this sense of belonging and home anywhere else, not even in my old world. I had always been a restless soul, searching for meaning and belonging, and the prospect of embarking on an adventure that might end with a return home had distracted me from the fact that I had long since found it. Something in me had known that all along, but whenever I had been on the verge of finally admitting it, even to myself, something had come up.

Well.

Now I would stay here, forever. The irony of it all would have made me laugh out loud if I hadn't been so exhausted. The only question was: where were they? Why hadn't they torn me away from Legolas yet?

When I opened my eyes to look, several things happened at once: first, the elf's arm wrapped protectively around my waist, and at the same time I saw the orcs, who should have been here by now, engaged in a fight with a figure that had such feline speed that it had to be of elven blood. Were these Celeborn's men?

"You must go, Aspen," Legolas said under his breath. I barely heard his voice over the din of battle but turned my gaze away from the commotion and looked at him. He appeared pale. Had he gotten a concussion from the fall?

"Before they come," he added just as quietly. His voice sounded strained, as if he were fighting to stay conscious.

"No," I said simply. "I'm not leaving you."

"You need to get to safety," he tried again, but I shook my head. "No, you need to get up," I replied, determination having returned to me. As long as the orcs were busy with the elf - whoever he was - we had a chance to escape.

"I..." He blinked, clearly having a hard time keeping his focus. That wasn't good at all, but I couldn't help him until we were out of range.

"Come on, help." I was now kneeling on the ground again, assisting the elf to sit. He was visibly shaken up, but did as I asked. Only when I had him on unsteady legs did he say, "I don't know this elf."

"Neither do I, but let's be glad he's here. Let's go!" I tried to move Legolas toward the forest, but he stayed where he was. His gaze fixed on the figure that was striking down one orc after another as if they were nothing more than straw figures.

"Legolas." He lowered his gaze and I held his arm to limp along with him toward the woods.

This time we made it.

When we had left the first tree trunks behind us, the forest swallowed every sound that could have reached our ears from the outside. It was like our first visit to the Greenwood, except this time its old name was probably more appropriate. The forest seemed so grim as if it wanted to eat us alive. I felt the danger, even if I didn't see it. "Are you sure this is better than the plains of grass?"

"For the time being." He let out a hiss, likely because he'd come against one of his injuries. "I had planned to take shelter in one of the trees."

"You won't be able to do that now." He didn't answer, but a sideways glance told me he was thinking the same thing, just wouldn't admit it. "Is there any other way, any hiding place that could shield us from the eyes of our enemies?"

Instead of an answer, the elf stopped. So suddenly that his hand almost slipped from my shoulder. I wanted to ask what had happened, if he had seen something, but that became unnecessary when a figure in front of us emerged from the shadows of the trees. My grip on Legolas' torso tightened. I had an inkling of who it was. And I knew we would not be able to escape him.

"I know a place to hide." The stranger stopped far enough away from us that we didn't have to fear being attacked. Almost as if we were shy deer he didn't want to spook. "It's not far from here."

"Oh yeah?" I couldn't stop my gaze from jumping to the knife in his hand, which was almost as long as my forearm. He had been slaughtering orcs with that weapon just moments ago. "And why should we trust you?"

Legolas at my side tensed. It was clear that he couldn't do much against this elf. Not in his condition. And I, too, was easy prey. My God, he had cut down a whole horde of orcs without batting an eye. If there was a Terminator in Middle Earth, he came damn close.

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it by now."

I narrowed my eyes. "Who tells me you don't just like to play with your prey?"

Instead of a sharp retort, or worse, an attack, a smirk suddenly played around the stranger's lips. "Indeed, no one tells you that. But know, Aspen of Minas Tirith, that this is not the first time I have met you. I have only chosen to show myself to you now."

It took a moment for the penny to drop, then I asked, "You are Maglor?"

He tilted his head, which was confirmation enough. "That's one of the names the world knows me by."

My mouth was dry all at once. So this was him, the son of Fëanor, who had roamed the lands for millennia, who had sworn the oath to the Silmaril, who had killed and murdered to fulfill that oath. I tried to suppress the reflex to swallow as I stared at him, knowing he would interpret it as weakness. But I couldn't help it.

"You need not fear me."

"Said the mass murderer," I snapped. Legolas beside me drew an audible breath. Too late, I bit my tongue, but this time, too, Maglor reacted differently than I thought. For a moment he looked at me sternly, almost with sorrow, then he replied, "And even after all these years, my reputation still precedes me."

When I said nothing in reply, he nodded his head over to Legolas. "I understand your mistrust, but your companion needs my help. He is only keeping himself on his feet because he thinks he must defend you." Pause. "You can stay here and wait for the troops from Lothlórien. But I can assure you that they will treat you worse than I do."

With that, he had voiced my worst fears. And even if I had felt unease upon entering the forest, it had never come from Maglor. Sure, I distrusted him because of what I knew about him, but the danger I had sensed came from the woods. From the creatures that were just waiting for him to leave us alone. And from the fear of Celeborn's men.

I looked to the side and to Legolas. "What hiding place are we talking about?"

"A cave, not far from here. It is well hidden, no one will find you there until you and your companion are well again."

"What about our friends?"

"The dwarf and the other elf?"

I couldn't manage more than a curt nod.

"I will find them and bring them to you as soon as you are safe."

Legolas beside me was breathing heavily, and I knew he needed to be taken care of. Maglor was right about that, too: he was still standing because I was supporting him and because he wanted to protect me. "Well, all right then."

Maglor bowed his head again, then without further pleasantries, he turned and motioned for us to follow him.

We walked slowly. Meter by meter and carefully enough so that our injuries did not force us to a complete standstill. Neither of us spoke, my fear that Celeborn's guards would hear us was too great.

It wasn't long before the terrain around us became hillier. This part of Mirkwood was wilder than the one where Thranduil's realm lay. If that was even possible. And it was more dangerous. The ground was covered with moss, the trees a mixture of needles and leaves. Large boulders blocked our way and it was tedious to navigate around them.

Maglor led us to a dead end, where we were surrounded on all sides by small hills densely covered with trees. One moment he was ahead of us, the next he had disappeared into thin air.

With a frown, I looked at Legolas, who pointed forward with his chin. Only now did I notice how dark the shadows under his eyes were. "The entrance is indeed well hidden. Had I not been watching Maglor closely, even I would not have found it."

We walked on, and sure enough: the entrance was behind a hanging mat of moss and earth. Without looking back, we slipped in.

Inside, we were greeted by twilight. It fell down to us from the entrance and from several small holes in the ceiling. We were standing in a kind of corridor that led deeper into the cave. Maglor had already gone ahead and we did the same. The further we went, the cooler the air became. The light also diminished until the passage made a bend and ended in a round chamber with high ceilings. Here a fire was burning and more than one bed was prepared. Maglor seemed to have expected that we would accept his offer.

"Over here," said Fëanor's son, and I carefully lowered Legolas onto one of the fur-lined beds. He made no sound, but I saw the pain in his eyes.

"I'll take care of his arrow wound," Maglor said.

"He has brain trauma, too," I said. "But hopefully only minor."

Maglor looked at me blankly until I realized I must have used an expression unfamiliar to him. So I paraphrased, "He hit his head on the floor. Do you see the wound above his temple?"

"Yes."

"He's not showing any strong symptoms, but I need to look at his pupils. If they are different sizes, we have a problem."

"Why?" asked Legolas, his voice still weak.

"Because a concussion can cause bleeding in the brain," I said simply. "Differently sized pupils are a symptom of that. You don't show any other ones, fortunately. Are you feeling nauseous?"

"No."

"Can you remember what happened just before you hit the ground?"

"Yes," he muttered. "But I..." he gave Maglor a look I couldn't read, "I feel a deep sense of fatigue."

Something in me hoped that this was due to the fight and not entirely due to the concussion. Nevertheless, I leaned forward and whispered, "You need to rest after Maglor finishes tending to your bullet wound. But first, look at me one more time."

The moment he raised his eyes, I wished I could have stroked his face, but I was all too aware of the other elf's presence. Therefore, I only looked at Legolas' pupils, both of which seemed to be the same size. Then I squeezed his hand and handed the reins over to Maglor.

After he had finished, Legolas quickly sank into a deep sleep. This had to be due in part to the tea that Maglor had previously poured for him. Besides Legolas' steady breaths, now only the crackling of logs in the fire could be heard.

"You are a healer," Maglor remarked after some time spent staring into the fire.

"No," I countered, "I just have first-aid training."

He raised an eyebrow. "You use a lot of strange words."

"You can't choose your talents."

He smirked. Again. "That may well be."

Silence fell over us again until I asked, "Why did you help us?"

His eyes still fixed on the fire, he replied, "I think you know."

"But I want to hear it from your mouth."

"To make sure I'm really who I say I am."

"Yes."

Maglor took his time with an answer, reminding me of Legolas, who also weighed each word carefully before uttering it. Finally, he said, "You have proven yourself more worthy of the Silmaril shards than many Elfs or Maiar have."

"I have done nothing with them, only kept them."

"Exactly."

The fire cast its dancing shadows on the Elf's face. How old he must be. For some reason, I had never noticed this fact about Legolas in the same way, but compared to Maglor, Legolas was still a youngster. The Elf was physically youthful, still, but his eyes and the way he expressed himself showed me the many years he had walked this world. How it might feel to be bound by an oath, the fulfillment of which meant being isolated forever? "Do you want the shards back?", I asked out of my thoughts.

Again, he let a few seconds pass before answering, "That is not for me to say."

"To whom if not to you?"

"It seems to be your place, Aspen."

I snorted. Not so much because I didn't believe what he was saying, but because I felt like it was too much for me. "I don't even know what my role is in this game. It's not like I volunteered for it and... and after we collected the second shard, all hell broke loose."

"You were being followed."

"Yes."

"Do you know by whom and why?"

"No." I interrupted myself, not wanting to let frustration get the better of me. "I don't know anything: not why I'm being followed. Not by whom. And certainly not what I'm supposed to do with the shards once I get them all together. Or whether I should do anything with them at all. The only thing that makes sense is Celeborn's soldiers. That's pretty much my own fault."

A log collapsed, sending sparks flying to the ceiling of the cave. Maglor put his left hand in the pocket of his cloak and pulled out a pouch, which he handed to me. "If you will listen to me, I can answer some of your questions."

Hesitantly, I accepted the pouch but kept it closed. I didn't dare look inside, though I suspected what it contained. "I would be very grateful for that."

"Well," he straightened up. "Your companions have no doubt already told you the story of the Silmaril, and you also know that they still awaken desires."

"Apparently," I murmured more to myself than to him.

"As you may also have noticed, evil still has a multitude of worshippers."

"Evil?", I asked. "Excuse me for saying this so bluntly, but... what is evil ?" Although it had always been quite clear in Tolkien's works, I knew from my own experience that those whom many considered evil often did not consider themselves in the same light. Being evil was a matter of definition, and I wanted to be sure Maglor and I were on the same page before we talked any further.

"Almost a philosophical question," he countered. "Perhaps it will comfort you to know that I have never been on Morgoth's side, nor Sauron's. And yet the downfall of one is closely linked to the rise of the New Shadow."

"Was it not Morgoth who stole the Silmaril from your father?"

"Indeed." He was playing with what looked like a silver coin, but I wasn't sure if it really was one. "Do you also know what happened after Morgoth lost the War of Wrath?"

"The War of Wrath?"

"It sealed the end of the First Age and was also Morgoth's downfall. The Valar found him in Angband, which is an evil place to this day. They cut off his legs and bound him with the chain Angainor. From his crown they made a neck-iron, which they put around Morgoth, and thus, humiliated, thrust him out through the Door of Night into the Abyss. An eternal guard was placed before the door to prevent his return. But although the Valar had managed to banish evil, it remained in the heart of Arda. Not least because of Sauron, who was one of Morgoth's most powerful servants."

Part of me suspected that the answers to the questions that had been burning on my tongue for weeks were just a small step away. And that they would have something to do with Morgoth. "Is it him?" I asked, therefore. "Is Morgoth responsible for me... for everything turning out this way?"

"Yes and No. He is still in exile. He can't do anything himself. Not yet."

"But?"

"Sauron's worshippers have always looked up to Morgoth. Of course, it was never Sauron's intention to free his old master from the Abyss, for both had quite different goals. Sauron wanted to gain control over Arda, Morgoth, on the other hand, wanted to annihilate the world as it existed and create something of his own. Nevertheless, or precisely because Morgoth was so out of reach, he indirectly helped Sauron keep his inferiors in check. Morgoth was always a cold chill of fear to Sauron's followers, and at the same time a being they admired." He paused and looked at me as if expecting me to make up the rest myself. So I tried, "And now that Sauron has been defeated, they are trying to bring back Morgoth?"

"Precisely."

This was truly bad news, However... "What does this have to do with the Silmaril?"

Maglor stood up. "The Silmaril are the lever."

I looked up at him with a furrowed brow. "The lever? You mean they open the way to the Abyss."

"No," he shook his head, "the way into the Void is open to those who know it. However, it is usually impossible for you mortals to travel it. Your bodies cannot withstand it and would break. Even we can walk the path only with the blessing of the Valar; Eärendil, as a half-elf and guardian of the Door of Night, is an exception. His ship Vingilot protects him."

It took me a moment to let that sink in. We were moving into waters that were unfamiliar to me. True, Legolas had told me some things about Middle Earth during our nightly conversations, and about Arda in general. But these were tales and legends of which I had never heard before. Nevertheless, Maglor had experienced them. He was an eyewitness for whom these events were not a mere eventuality, but a fact. "What do you mean then?"

"Eärendil guards the only entrance within the Walls of Night, the gate I spoke of. The walls separate Arda from Kúma, the Void. He does this with the help of his Silmaril, which he has attached to Vingilot. You can see the star in the night sky if you know where to look for it." He paused briefly, during which he bent down and placed two fresh logs on the fire. "You probably didn't notice: But the glow of the star has diminished, and with it the protection Eärendil has provided Arda by preventing Morgoth from ever descending again."

My thoughts were racing. Of course, I hadn't noticed that the star Maglor had spoken of had grown dimmer, but I hadn't looked either. What did it mean? For the life of me, I could not imagine how the Silmaril would be related to this event. So I asked, "Has his Silmaril… been destroyed?"

"No." With a sigh, he began to pace up and down. "But the one whose parts you carry with you was broken. Even though they haven't been together for a long time: The Silmaril are connected to each other. They lean on each other, their strength is always only as great as the strength of one. The person who found the Silmaril I once handed over to the sea knew this. They also knew how to break it open and release its light - so that the power of the three, and thus the power of Eärendil's Silmaril, would be weakened."

Briefly, I closed my eyes. The sheer amount of information that was coming at me, even more so after I was at the end of my rope and only keeping myself on my feet with a great effort of will, was simply too much. Nevertheless, I tried to understand, wanted to know what was happening. Because everything Maglor was telling was directly affecting me. "Weakened means he can no longer keep Morgoth from escaping his confinement?"

"By Arda, fortunately, it hasn't come to that yet," Maglor admitted. "But if Morgoth's worshippers have found one Silmaril, they can discover the second one as well. Especially since this one has already become known by another name. I'm surprised they haven't taken it yet. If they had, only one would stand against Morgoth, and Eärendil would be on his own."

"And one is not enough?"

"No."

So many questions rushed through my mind. It almost felt like a beehive. If Maglor had known this, why had he thrown away his Silmaril? Why hadn't he handed it over to Eärendil or the Valar? Had he not cared at the time? Or was it because of his oath? And what the heck was I supposed to do about all this? The remains of the Silmaril in my pocket seemed worthless. "What do you want me to do?", I managed after pushing aside the questions in my head.

Maglor stopped. "I don't want anything. This is not my doing, it is the Valar's."

"Excuse me?"

"Who do you think has the power to manipulate time and space and carry you from the future of this world into its past?"

Okay. I was officially out of my depth. How did he know about this? And... why him of all people?

"The old woman who brought me here was... a Valar?"

"Yes."

"Good, but..." I ran my hand over my eyes. "But... you... you don't side with the Valar?"

He chuckled. "After what I've done, it would be presumptuous to say I'm on their side. Let's just say... I support what they want. In this case."

"Because you want to make amends for what happened?"

"You could say that."

Taking a deep breath, I was now the one to stand up. "Then putting it another way, what should I do? What is my task?"

"Your task is to put the Silmaril back together."

"You said it had been destroyed."

"I said it had been broken open. But those who tried to release its light did not do good work. Much of it is gone, but a spark is still there." He reached out for the pouch he had given me and I handed it to him. Carefully, he pulled out the third piece we had been looking for so long now, and placed it on my palm without touching it. "See?" Maglor said. "It's not completely gone."

Slowly, I leaned forward and looked at the shard. Sure enough, what I had thought was a reflection was clearly visible as a spark of light here in the gloom of the cave. "Why me?", I finally asked, hearing how tired I sounded. "I just stumbled into all this. Wasn't there someone else who is more qualified than I am?" If anyone could be qualified for such a task.

For the first time, I elicited more than a smirk from Maglor. His laugh sounded so young and carefree that I had to smile, too. "It is not for me to fathom the Valar's intentions, but this question alone proves to me that they were right. Some tasks don't need heroes, they need someone to finish what needs to be done."

"And you think I'm that kind of person?"

"I wouldn't rule it out."

"Very encouraging."

He closed my hand around the silmaril shard. "You have a pure heart, or you could not hold it. I cannot, even in this broken form. But I will show you how to put it back together."

"Will Eärendil be able to continue protecting Arda then?"

"Yes, he will, but..." He broke off, seeming to consider how best to say what would follow. When he had made up his mind, he added, "But I cannot promise you that it will not require a sacrifice."

I remained silent for a moment, then asked quietly, "What kind of sacrifice?"

Maglor raised his eyes. "I have always admired humans for how adaptable they are. You set out in search of a way back to your time and now look at you."

His words hit me like an arrow, dead center in the heart. It was as if he not only saw through me and my reasoning, but knew it better than I did. Nevertheless, I asked, "What are you trying to say?"

"To save this world and thus your own future, Aspen, you may have to leave it behind. Even if that means turning your back on everything you have found here as well."

My gaze darted to Legolas, who was still lying by the fire with his eyes closed. "You say I will be forced to save the present or the future will perish?"

"Do you really consider it forced?" he replied calmly.

I narrowed my eyes. "No," I whispered. "I consider it an obligation."

"See. That's why it's your duty and no one else's."