London

While I was still washing the blood from my body, I sighed with relief. I wouldn't be able to sleep for some time without fear of being surprised by Morgoth but that didn't mean I had to stay dirty. After my hair had also been freed from grime, sweat and other remains and I had wrung it out and braided it, I slipped back into my clothes, which were caked with dirt, with a disgusted face. I would have loved to wash them as well, but then I would be sitting naked in the cave and I couldn't risk that for obvious reasons. "I'm done," I finally said in the direction of the cave entrance.

"I know," the elf replied and I heard the smug undertone before I turned and looked into his face. With a roll of my eyes, I pointed to my clothes. "Is there any way I can change out of this? I still feel dirty."

"You could wash them," he suggested, and I knew he was teasing me. So I replied, "What I hear is that you want to lend me your clothes for the meantime? I truly think that's very courteous. And so selfless."

He bit his lip to suppress a grin before saying, "I'll talk to Maglor. I feel the same way."

"Thank god."

"Whom?"

"Nothing."

We looked at each other, just for a moment, then both of us couldn't help but laugh. And while we were doing so, a grumpy voice in Legolas' back said, "And I have forced those two pointy ears through the forest as if Sauron himself were after us, only to find you two snickering here. Unlike us, you seem rested and in high spirits."

"Gimli!" Surprise and relief flashed through my system like a lightning bolt. Quickly, I took a step to the side so I could look behind Legolas. There, less than five meters away, the dwarf stood in the bend that led to the part of the cave we were in. He had both hands on his hips, and was shaking his head in disapproval. Beleg stood behind him, a grin playing around his lips. Maglor was out of view. "I'm glad to see you, too," I added, then bridged the distance between us and gave him a quick hug. "I was afraid you hadn't escaped the orcs."

"Don't worry, lass, we got past them as fast as we could," he replied, patting me on the forearm. I couldn't help but notice that Gimli had a wound on his neck, but it had already been taken care of. That made my guilty conscience flare up again.

"It struck me that you, Master Dwarf, would rather have lingered a moment longer with the orcs," Beleg objected, earning a dirty look from Gimli in return.

"That's him all over," said Legolas, who had stepped up beside me and put a hand on Gimli's shoulder. "Good to see you, my friend. I was worried."

Gimli nodded to him, and I sensed that the two of them would talk later. They had been friends long enough to know what the other was thinking and that now was not the time to celebrate Gimli and Beleg's return. Instead, Legolas asked, "Where is Maglor?"

"He's covering our tracks," Beleg said. Something in the way he looked at Gimli at that told me that what he had really meant to say was: He's covering the dwarf's tracks, but didn't because he respected him. Whatever had happened since we parted, Beleg, who had treated Gimli like he wasn't there before, seemed to have accepted the dwarf. This realization caused a warm feeling to rise in my chest, and I had to blink to keep the rising tears from welling up in my eyes. Why did it feel like my family was whole again?

"Then we have time to talk," Legolas said, snapping me out of my thoughts. "A fair amount has happened. More than I would like."

"I suspected as much," Gimli murmured. "When I saw Maglor, I knew you were right. He needed no introducing; his sight alone promised doom."

"You speak with wisdom, Gimli, Glóin's son," Beleg said. "I, too, never thought we would meet one of Fëanor's sons. He seems to be on our side; but the question is, for how long?"

"Exactly," I said. "And you don't know yet that he's not the only one who has shown up after all the chasing..." With that, I recounted my astral travel and how we finally knew for sure who was behind the charade that had been going on since we left Minas Tirith and ran into the old woman from New York in Rohan. I left nothing out, describing each of my impressions, my fears, and even Morgoth's offer in great detail, knowing that I would need more than just Legolas' help. Both Gimli and Beleg had proven to be faithful companions, and I cared about their perspective on things. Perhaps they saw something we had overlooked.

Gimli had narrowed his eyes while I had been telling about the problem surrounding the Silmaril, almost as if there was something on the tip of his tongue that he didn't quite want to say yet. When I ended, he folded his arms in front of his chest, contemplative. Finally he said, "Do you remember our conversation in the tavern in Rohan? Shortly after we found the first shard?"

Legolas and I nodded, Beleg raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He probably assumed that what was coming next would explain his questions. Gimli continued, "Do you also remember what I said about the Arkenstone?"

"Yes," I replied, "You said, Master Dwarf, that it lay untouched on the chest of Thorin Oakenshield because its power was too great for the dwarves to want to leave it to their next king."

"Good catch, lass." He winked at me. "In Rohan, we still assumed that the Arkenstone was stolen from Thorin's tomb, or that there might be others like it. The last theory was remarkably close to the truth - except that there isn't more than one Arkenstone." He looked at us in turn, with a piercing gaze. "The Arkenstone, its power... it is not a simple jewel. I believe it is the third Silmaril. The one which was cast into the fiery pit of the mountain side."

Silence descended upon our small group, then Beleg said, "The story surrounding the loss of the Silmaril by Fëanor's son Maedhros is anything but detailed, the only one who could tell us more about it is Maglor…"

"And I can confirm to you that Gimli, Glóin's son, is correct," Maglor said.

I winced. The others, even Legolas and Beleg, seemed surprised as well. No one had heard Maglor coming. This confirmed to me once again that he was different, even more otherworldly than Beleg and Legolas - something I would not have thought possible until just now. Because even though I knew the two elves quite well by now, and particularly Legolas and I had found a bridge that connected us: they both were still elves. They were different. Saw the world with eyes with which I never would or could look at it. They had chosen to descend into Gimli's and my perception of time, to search for clues with us and in our world because it affected them too, but that didn't hide the fact that they had lived on this planet millennia longer and would continue to do so long after we were gone. Maglor, on the other hand... had an aura similar to Thranduil's - only darker. More dangerous. And I thought this even though I had already felt like an amoeba under the gaze of the Woodland King.

"The Arkenstone is the third, the last Silmaril?", I asked, just to be sure. Some things needed to be confirmed a second time. And this was definitely one of them.

"Yes," Maglor said simply. "It took me a long time to verify my suspicions, but it's true: the stone my brother once threw into the abyss is the Arkenstone."

"But...", I muttered, more to myself than to Maglor or anyone else in the cave, "how can that be? The dwarves must have worked the Arkenstone. And... no mortal can hold an undamaged Silmaril in their hands, can they?"

"A fair point, lass," Gimli said, "But I can refute it: I have seen the Arkenstone only once, when I was very young. But to this day I remember that, although it was shining beautifully and bright, at the same time it was surrounded by a kind of... encasement, similar to the fragments of the Silmaril that you carry with you. My relatives told me that it was cloudy when they loosened the Arkenstone from the mountain and they just polished it. They didn't do much to make the jewel shine again - and shine it did." The dwarf sounded dreamy and I had to smile on impulse. Yes, Gimli was a child of the earth and he loved her treasures. I could still remember all too well the glint in his eyes as he had led me through the caverns of Aglarond.

"Indeed," Maglor had leaned against one of the walls, his legs crossed. "You are right, the encasement, as you call it, protected the dwarves from being burned at a touch. Still, they too felt the power of the Silmaril. It influenced Thorin, strongly influenced if I may say so, and not in a good way. It was one of the better decisions of the dwarves of Erebor to lock it away forever as a burial gift." Gimli made an unhappy noise and gave the elf a look that I did not want to be met by. But he said nothing. "They did us a service when they did that, because while every living dwarf still gushes about this stone, no one associates it with the Silmaril. It's just a stone, a special one to be sure, but nothing more. So far."

"So far?", I asked.

"Morgoth's servants have not been idle. Before they tracked you down, they searched every corner of Middle Earth for a sign. A sign of the third Silmaril, which they knew would still lie hidden somewhere in this world - in dark ground, the cellar of a king's castle, or in the stone halls of the dwarves."

"They know about the Arkenstone?" Legolas' voice sounded sharp. "Is that what you are saying?"

Maglor pushed himself away from the wall. "I cannot affirm this with certainty, but during my travels I have been on the trail of many servants of darkness. They drew the circle of their search ever tighter, and at its center lay the Lonely Mountain."

It felt like someone had sucked the air out of the room. If Morgoth's henchmen knew about the Arkenstone, how likely was it that it still lay in Thorin's tomb? Were the dwarves guarding the eternal resting place? How easy was it to gain access to it?

"What time frame are we talking about here?", Legolas kept inquiring. He was tense and I felt it. Therefore, and because I wanted to reassure myself, I reached for his hand and slipped my fingers into his. He squeezed them, but did not take his eyes off Maglor.

"A few weeks, maybe a month. I wandered in the area of the Lonely Mountain and Thal before I returned to Esgaroth and found you there."

"Then they may have taken possession of it long ago," Beleg concluded, who had so far remained quite silent and only listened. "If that is the case, our plans are thwarted. And I assume that the plan is to reassemble the shards with the help of the Arkenstone, the other Silmaril?"

Maglor tilted his head slightly, which was enough confirmation. Still: I wanted to learn about it in more detail. "Regardless of whether the stone is still where it's supposed to be: How can one Silmaril be repaired by another?"

This time, I didn't imagine the hesitation in Maglor's voice. Legolas seemed to have noticed it too, for his grip on my hand tightened. "The Silmaril given to Earth, like all others, has the power to affect the present, the future, and the past," he answered evasively.

"And that means what?"

Maglor sighed. "It requires a catalyst, something to conduct the energy from one stone to another."

"Like a power cable," I said, lost in thought.

"If you say so." He was still avoiding my gaze. That was suspicious.

"And what will we use as a conductor?", I asked, although I already guessed the answer. So did Legolas, whose grip on my hand was now bruising.

"You, Aspen." Maglor looked me firmly in the eye. "That is why you have been brought here: You are the imbalance that will spark the healing process of the Silmaril."

"Because I do not come from this time."

"Aye." Pause. "What will happen to you in the process, I cannot say. In the best case, nothing happens and you remain unharmed. In the worst case..." He let the sentence run out, not needing to finish it.

"Worst case, I die," I said dryly, feeling Legolas wince slightly. "That was to be expected. Is there more in between, or is it just life or death?"

Maglor held my gaze for a moment longer, then said, "You could be hurled into another time, or fall out of it altogether. There are forces at work in this process that I cannot foresee."

"Of course not." I ran my hand over my forehead. Perhaps I should have taken things as they come. Now the fear tightened in my stomach like a knotted rope. To distract myself, and because it was one thing no one had brought up yet, I added, "Assuming the Silmaril is still in Thorin's tomb, how will we be able to get it? I hardly think the dwarves of Erebor will simply dig it up."

An awkward silence fell over the group before Gimli said, "Especially not if an elf is proposing the idea to them."

"Precisely." I looked back and forth between him and Maglor. "That's the problem we should solve first, because without looking into Thorin's tomb, we don't even know if the Arkenstone is still there."

As if my words had triggered something, Gimli stroked his beard before saying, "There might be an entrance. But it hasn't been used in a long time, I'm not even sure it hasn't collapsed by now."

"What kind of entrance?", I asked, letting go of Legolas' hand.

"I discovered it when I was a young one," Gimli said. He had his eyes fixed on the ceiling, as if he could see the memory there. "Thorin was still alive then, and the Arkenstone had not yet been buried. However..." He interrupted himself. "However, even then there was the crypt. It lies deep down in the heart of Erebor, and as far as I remember a new chamber was built for Thorin, befitting his position. The entrance leads to the old part of the crypt. It is a tunnel that must have formed naturally a long time ago, and I and my fellows uncovered it at that time. Of course, we were forbidden to do so, but as the youth does..." He shrugged apologetically. "It leads to a grotto and a vast network of other tunnels. We spent hours exploring it and once, when I was alone, I found an exit. I'm not sure it's a good idea to try to sneak into Erebor, but if we do, it's our best chance. Of course, I can't guarantee anything, I haven't visited these tunnels in decades."

We looked at each other. Was this our way to the Arkenstone or our doom? If the dwarves had found the entrance, it had to have been sealed long ago. And if they hadn't, there was still a chance we'd be caught. If that happened, there was no way they would let us have the Arkenstone, but what was the likelihood that they would after talking to us?

Something similar must have been going through Legolas' mind, because he said, "Gimli, you know the dwarves of Erebor better than any of us: would they hand over the Arkenstone to us, or at least let us use it, if we explained to them what it is all about?"

The dwarf looked as if he were being asked to trim his beard. With a sudden movement, he began pacing up and down the cave. I knew this was not a good sign. Truly it wasn't. The feud between dwarves and elves was age-old, I as a human stood somewhere in the middle, only Gimli's word would be believed. "I don't know," the dwarf finally said. "I haven't seen them in too long for them to blindly trust anything I say. I need a little more time to think it over."

"We don't have much time." Maglor was as tense as the mood felt. "We need to find out as soon as possible if the Silmaril is still with the dwarves, and if it is, we need to get ahead of Morgoth and use it before he manages to get it into his possession."

"I am aware of that," Gimli shot back. "But I assure you, Master Elf, that this move should be done thoughtfully. Erebor is closely guarded, and we should not make an enemy of the dwarves."

The elf sighed, but he knew that Gimli was right. It wasn't going to be easy. None of what we would be doing from now on was. Especially not considering the fact that I might die after we found the Arkenstone. I ran a hand over my face again. And there was something else that worried me: "I'm tired," I said. "The little sleep I got is not enough. I need to sleep again soon. But how can I do that without fear of being attacked by Morgoth?" While I wasn't sure he would, because our conversation hadn't been too long ago and I had allowed myself time to think, he hadn't seemed like the most patient of people, and I didn't want to take any chances.

"I almost forgot," Maglor said, turning to me. "There is no way to guarantee that he will not try again to draw your spirit to him while you sleep. But you need not face such an attempt alone."

"What do you mean?", I asked with a furrowed brow.

But instead of Maglor, Legolas answered. "Elves sleep... differently than humans. We can rest our minds while our bodies are still active. It then walks in the dream realm, where we can also meet other spirits. Morgoth is not the only one who consciously enters this realm. The only difference is that it should be easier for him to make contact. When we rest our minds, we are detached and... float from place to place. When we focus, however, we can meet familiar souls in this state. It is especially easy for us to do so if we have previously connected with them."

Otherworldly. Indeed. "And this connection," I asked, turning to Legolas, because I had to sort out all the new information first, "how does it come about?"

Maglor and Beleg lowered their eyes, a smirk playing around the latter's mouth again. "I don't think the connection should be the problem."

"What then?"

"To find you," Legolas said. "Just because we are physically in close proximity doesn't mean we are in the dream realm. Your mind may travel afar because you come from far away. That's another reason why it was probably easy for Morgoth to lure you in."

That sounded awfully complex and like there was nothing I could do to influence the situation. "So all I can do is wait for you or Morgoth to find me first?"

Legolas looked at me. "You can leave clues."

"I can what?", I asked with an eyebrow raised in disbelief. "Now that's truly spiritual."

"As are all matters of the elves," Gimli interjected from the side, and I had to grin. It reassured me that I wasn't the only one who didn't understand what exactly had to be done.

"It's not easy, but I'll help you with it," Legolas said. "In the time it takes Gimli to figure out Erebor, you will sleep. And I will accompany you."

"That sounds weird." Just the thought of having to be protected while I slept was uncomfortable. After all, Legolas would be the one I would have with me, not Maglor. That would have made me much more uneasy.

He held out his hand to me. "I am curious to see where I will find you, Meleth Nîn."

Legolas led me to the cave entrance, away from the others. Gimli had sat down by the fire with Beleg, and Maglor was busying himself with a cauldron. I was glad that we did not try to fall asleep together on the spot. The whole situation overwhelmed me and I wasn't sure what was expected of me. But something told me that Legolas would explain - as patient and thoughtful as he always was. His hand in mine also told me not to be afraid, and that was more than I expected.

We settled down within sight of the entrance. Legolas had taken one of the blankets with him and a fur which he laid on the ground. I sat down on it a little stiffly and asked, "Now what?"

"Now," he said "you tell me about your world."

Surprised, I raised my head. "About my world?"

"Yes." He slid behind me and motioned for me to join him. I moved a little awkwardly between his legs and leaned my shoulder against his chest. I had my arms wrapped around my knees. Even though I didn't know why he wanted to hear stories from my time right now, maybe it wasn't a bad place to start…

"What do you want to know?"

"Tell me about a place you lost your heart to," the elf said. "Be as specific as possible, paint a picture with your words so that I can not only imagine it, but feel like I already know it. And then when you fall asleep, think of me and this place. I will do the same and meet you there."

I took a deep breath. "That's not an easy task."

"You're eloquent."

"Sometimes, yes."

"I remember very well how you described flying to me. Do it exactly like that and I'm sure I'll find this place."

He was right. Back when I had talked about it, I had spoken from my heart. "A place I lost my heart to, huh?", I asked, knowing the moment I uttered the question which one it was. Even though it had been many years since I had been there, to this day I could remember it as clearly as if it had been only yesterday. I had spent a lot of time there because I had been looking for something. Before my financial situation had forced me to take the job I had quit so I could travel. It had been a place I had hated to leave behind because it had belonged to a future I had to say goodbye to at the time, much like it had been when I fell to Middle Earth. Except at that point I had to consciously decide against it - because reason had prevailed. I sighed. "I think I know what place this might be," I said. "But... it's connected to bittersweet memories."

"Well, I think it's about time you tell me more of who you are. You play your cards close to your chest, Aspen."

"What can I say..." I bit my lip. "I'm afraid you're probably right about that."

For a moment I stared at the moss that covered the cave entrance. I couldn't see the sky from here, which was a shame. Then I said, "A few years before I started traveling, I had another goal in life. I was... pursuing higher education and wanted to devote my life to science. Unfortunately, that takes a lot of money, which I didn't have."

"Science?"

"A system whose goal is to gain knowledge - in a wide range of disciplines. It's easier to get a foot in the door in some than others. My discipline was… the history of my world. Unfortunately, it is not as highly regarded as other disciplines and, accordingly, has even less resources with which to fund research.

Therefore, there are only a few paid positions, one of which I did get, but it wasn't enough to live on. So at some point I had to give up my wish and bow to the system." I paused for a moment. "The place I had to think of is a library," I finally said with a small smile as I thought of the many rows of books. "I've spent hours upon hours in that library researching for my doctoral thesis, sifting through sources, translating, and drinking lots of coffee." Sensing Legolas' silent question, I added, "A drink that keeps us humans awake, at least for a while."

"That explains why you felt so at home in Minas Tirith's library," he said, and I heard the smirk in his voice.

"Yeah, it probably does," I replied softly. Then I leaned back a little more until my head came to rest just below his chin. "But it has been a good deal larger than the library of Minas Tirith. If I remember correctly, it held some one hundred and seventy million works, from all the ages, countries, and languages of the world, making it one of the largest libraries of my time. It had huge archives. Once I was in one of them. It was a hall, underground, the end of which I could not see, with shelves several meters high. Not made of wood, but of metal. They could be moved with the help of our technology, and behind them were even more rows as far as the eye could see. It felt like I was looking at a vast sea of knowledge, so vast that it would have taken several human lifetimes to fully grasp it. That's what fascinates me most about science: No matter how much I found out about a particular thing, I always knew that I would never know everything, and that there was so much more to discover."

Again, I felt Legolas' chest vibrate. "And that is what sets us apart: Your explorer spirit is one of the most typical, human traits. It drives you forward and lets you accomplish so much despite your short lives."

"It is our greatest strength, but at the same time our greatest weakness." I ran my fingers over the bandage on Legolas' shoulder. "It keeps us going, but because of it, we also never know when enough is enough. We are insatiable. And because of that, we destroy the things we've accomplished. That's the irony of it."

"I haven't looked at it from that angle yet," he said.

"Because it doesn't show up so strongly here in Middle Earth yet, but you can take my word for it: when the other kinds that now still counterbalance us humans are gone, it will." With a shrug, I added, "Of course, not all of us are like that. But plenty. The library, however, was my go to place. One specific reading room in particular, and that's also the place I was thinking of: It was not in the main building, but in the old location of the library, which is now a museum, one for history. Museums are places where objects are collected and explained, which can then be visited by people who want to learn more about them. Since I wrote my papers on different areas that were also important to the museum, I went there a lot. You can imagine it round, like a dome. The walls were full of shelves, and the center of the room had reading tables. They're made of old, dark wood, a little like in Minas Tirith. I knew someone who let me continue working after official hours - so I snuck in there, too," I said with a laugh. "It was my home for just under three years of living in this city. But that was a long time ago."

The elf's arms embraced me from behind. At the same time, he pulled the blanket over my shoulders. "I'm glad you found a new home," he whispered next to my ear, and I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. "What was the name of the city where this library was located?"

"London," I answered quietly. "The city was called London."