The Plan

I had just put the empty plate back at the entrance to my cell when I heard the voices of several men from upstairs. One of them belonged to Legolas.

He had not returned since our conversation a good two days ago. My initial hope that my words had reached him had quickly collapsed and I had become more than aware that sitting behind these bars for the rest of my life was a real possibility.

I didn't attribute the fact that he came here now to his wanting to talk to me, but to Sméagol. In the quiet hours of the night, I had wracked my brain about what exactly had happened before the outbreak of the Ring War. The memory of books and movies had been almost completely erased by my own experiences in Middle Earth, but the reality of just sitting here staring at a wall helped it slowly come back. Until I remembered: Sméagol had been captured by Aragorn and was then interrogated by Gandalf. After Gandalf had learned everything from Sméagol that he wanted to disclose, the wizard had made his way to the Shire, where he examined the One Ring and sent Frodo on his journey. Gandalf would then meet Aragorn again at a later date and tell him of Frodo's plans before he was captured in Orthanc. Somewhere in between, Sméagol would escape from Mirkwood.

I was surprised I even managed to get it all together, but the silence that surrounded me day in, day out would have driven me mad if I hadn't started reflecting. And doing that about something other than Morgoth had been a welcome distraction in itself. I also hoped to use my remembered knowledge of future events to my advantage. How, though, I wasn't sure yet. As always, it all depended on whether I got out of that cell.

The voices were speaking in Sindarin. As they got closer and closer, I sat up. I had been stuck here for almost two weeks now. The elves had graciously put a bucket of water for me to wash in yesterday and brought me new clothes. Even though the water had been freezing cold, it had felt heavenly to be able to wash the dirt and sweat off me.

Sméagol had also noticed that something was happening. Unlike me, however, his first reaction was to retreat even deeper into his cell. And rightly so, as I discovered. For at that moment, three elven guards, Legolas, another elf and Gandalf the Grey appeared in my field of vision. It was not difficult to recognize him, for he lived up to his name. If I guessed correctly, he had come to interrogate Sméagol. Maybe that would give me a chance to get out of here.

None of the new arrivals paid any attention to me as they lined up around the cell. I only understood a few words that I had picked up from my Legolas, and from them I figured that I was right. One of the guards unlocked the cell, went inside and tied Sméagol up before dragging him outside. He tried to wriggle out of his grip but to no avail.

"Sméagol," I heard Gandalf say. "You have nothing to fear as long as you tell the truth." He spoke in Westron, probably because he wasn't sure if Sméagol had ever learned the language of the elves. That was my luck.

The one addressed hissed and snarled until Gandalf laid a hand on his shoulder. He immediately froze, his eyes searching for mine of all things. I couldn't look away, because I saw something else in them besides malice: Terror. Even though we had never spoken to each other, we shared the fear of never being allowed to breath in the fresh air of the forest again.

Gandalf followed Sméagol's gaze and raised a brow. But I didn't seem to be high enough on his list of priorities to pursue the thought that had crossed his mind just now, so he turned away again. "Take him upstairs. We will have a little talk."

Sméagol's eyes grew even more panicked and he began to tear at his bonds. But the elvish guards were relentless. Gandalf led the way, followed by the guards holding the squirming Sméagol, with Legolas trailing behind. He gave me a look that was very different from the one Sméagol and I had exchanged. Something told me he was wondering what had happened between him and me. Whether it had been a mistake to lock us down here together unguarded. Whether I had been telling the truth or whether I had bamboozled him. He hesitated briefly before turning away and following the others. I kept watching him until he was gone.

A few hours later, Sméagol was brought back. He looked exhausted and was more crawling across the ground than walking. Gandalf, who was dragging him along, looked unhappy. He was alone, no guards accompanied him. His eyebrows were furrowed and he ushered Sméagol gruffly back into his cell. He stared at the creature for a heartbeat, then turned to me. "And now to you."

His remark was so unexpected that I flinched slightly. My mouth went dry, but I managed to reply: "To me?"

"Absolutely." The wizard nodded his head in the direction of Sméagol, who had gone back to hiding in the back of his cell. "Perhaps you are a little more talkative."

"That depends."

"Aha!" The wizard looked at me sternly from under his brows, but I couldn't help but notice that there was something else there as well: curiosity. "The elves told me that you suddenly appeared in their realm. Dressed like an inhabitant of Lake Town."

There was no need for me to try to fool Gandalf. He would see through any attempt immediately, for unlike Thranduil or even Legolas, he was in search of the truth and only the truth. His top priority was not a kingdom, but the world itself. So in that respect, I could probably trust him. The only question was whether we would agree on how to go about it. And if we had different views, whether he would still let me go. So I asked, "Is that all they told you?"

Gandalf pursed his lips, his brow still furrowed. "They became entangled in a lot of other stories," he said. "Each one wilder than the last."

"So you're calling me a liar, too?"

"Oh no," Gandalf laughed. "It's just been a long while since I've spoken to someone like you. You have a habit of adapting quickly – an effect of your multifaceted world, I suppose. So forgive the Woodland Elves for not recognizing the truth as such, even though you laid it right on them."

I blinked. "My multifaceted world?" I asked suspiciously. Could it really be that Gandalf knew what I was and believed me? Or did he just want me to reveal more than was good for me out of relief?

"I see you have already had a taste of the faces of Middle Earth. Let me explain my intentions to you in a place other than this."

"Is that a request or an order?"

"A request. You can of course stay in this cell if you prefer."

I hesitated for a moment, then stood up. "I assume you have a key?"

Gandalf pulled a bunch from under his robe and opened the door. "Come."

Cautiously, I put one foot over the threshold, for the first time in weeks. It felt unreal and I needed a moment to get my bearings, which Gandalf gave me. Together we walked up the stairs and down several corridors, some of which I recognized. It felt like déjà vu, only my memory wasn't in the past, but in the future. Bloody time travel.

Gandalf led me to a room adjacent to the library. We met no one on the way – or, more likely, no one showed themselves to us. The Woodland Elves would not leave their prisoners unguarded, not even with Gandalf by my side.

When the wizard closed the door behind him, he confirmed my suspicions: "Now we are undisturbed. No one will be able to listen to our conversation who shouldn't. Although Thranduil's son will be displeased."

"Legolas Thranduilion?" I asked, feeling his name on my tongue, familiar and alien at the same time. "It was he who told you about me."

Gandalf nodded.

"What of it do you believe?"

The wizard sat down on one of the two chairs and leaned on his staff. This room was also full of books, ceiling-high, part of Thranduil's impressive collection. The table and chairs were in the center, with several candles on a tray providing light. They cast their dancing shadows on the wall like ghostly fingers.

"I believe that your appearance here is only the epilogue to your story."

"More like the third act."

"Well," Gandalf looked at me from his piercing gray eyes. "So you have a task."

I wanted to bite my tongue. This wasn't a game and even if I knew Gandalf was one of the good guys... I couldn't be sure he'd let me go. Not if he knew the whole truth. But if I didn't confide in him, that left only Legolas, who had already made it clear that he didn't trust me. That would mean I would have to stay here indefinitely and it was only a matter of time before Morgoth found out where I was.

And time was running out.

I bit my lip, aware that the wizard was watching me. Part of me was grateful that he gave me space to think, another part of me knew that he was also doing it because he wanted to see how I reacted. Finally, I gave myself a push: "That's right, I have a role to play. And you would be doing me a big favor if you let me go."

"I can't do that without an explanation."

"Yes." Of course he had to say that. "But…"

"You don't know if you want to trust me," he finished my sentence.

"Can," I corrected. And then, because I suspected he felt the same way, I added on a whim: "It has nothing to do with the ring you asked Sméagol about."

Gandalf's grip on the staff tightened, his eyes alert. "You know about it."

"I know the end of your story," I said, echoing his reference, "but I'm not here to influence it."

"What could be more important than... the ring?" asked Gandalf. I had the feeling that he had wanted to say something else, but had changed his mind at the last moment. He probably almost slipped out that they were planning to destroy the Ring, but he didn't want to say it in front of me. Understandably so.

"The shadow that will rise after..." I searched for the right words, "after your epilogue is told."

"So we'll be successful?"

I lowered my eyes and ran a hand over my face. Shit. If I revealed too much now, I could change the outcome of the story, something I definitely didn't want. The wizard appeared to have had the same thought. "No, don't answer me."

"It's not important," I reiterated. "Because the reason I'm here will become relevant at some point, with or without the ring."

Gandalf leaned forward. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Well. Did I want to? I had to decide: Legolas or the wizard. A few weeks ago, my answer would have been clear, but here? Now? My gut instinct told me that Gandalf was my best bet. Still... "What do you know of my world?"

"That depends on when you're from."

The part of me that hadn't believed that Gandalf could have actually known time travelers like me listened up. "From the first half of the twenty-first century."

"Well, then I'm not entirely up to date."

"Not entirely?"

"The last visitor I came into contact with was from the second half of the previous century," the wizard said. "He was very interested in learning a lot about our culture and especially our languages. But he said his time here was limited. He knew me by the name Olórin."

"He had control over traveling?" I asked in surprise.

"It certainly seemed that way. I never saw him again." He ran his fingers over his robe. "Not yet, anyway."

The more I learned about time travel, the more it seemed to me that it wasn't as rare as I had thought. If the stranger who must have traveled to Middle Earth after the Second World War had been able to influence his travel, there had to be another way back to my time than through the help of the Silmaril. But how would I find that way and whether I even wanted to was another question. One that I couldn't face now.

When I made no reply, Gandalf said, "I conclude that you came here unwillingly."

"You could say that."

"So you are looking for a way back to your time. That is your task." Not a question, a statement. I admired him for his ability to combine, but I expected nothing less.

"That was my wish, yes." Pause. "But on the way there, I realized that I was sent here for a different reason."

"Sent?" The wizard's eyes glittered, his gaze holding mine, but in a different way as Legolas tended to do. I held back for another moment, then I told Gandalf everything. From my arrival, to my meeting with the elf, to the task of the Valar. I avoided as many aspects as possible that hinted at the outcome of the Ring War or addressed it at all. I kept the story short, only including what was absolutely necessary for understanding. But a clever mind, which the wizard had, had to quickly recognize what I did not say. He listened to me until the end, and I hoped that I wasn't destroying everything that would follow. What if even that smallest hope was enough to change the outcome of events?

The wizard looked like he could read the worry in my eyes as he said, "This is truly a story unlike any other." He stood up and began to pace back and forth. "And more than I had dared to hope and fear."

"I know a way to end this. All you have to do is let me go."

Gandalf appeared to be lost in thought as he stared at one of the books on the shelf in front of him. "Is it that simple?" he finally asked.

His question brought out the doubts in me that I had long suppressed. So far, my goal had been to get out of the cell and back to the mountain. I hadn't thought about the details of my plan – how could I? The likelihood of getting past the first part had been almost non-existent. Until now.

"Probably not."

The wizard turned around. "And yet you must do as you are told."

"Yes," I said simply. "I know how it works in theory. I need a horse and a way to the Lonely Mountain. As long as I'm faster than... Morgoth, I might be able to put the shards back together before he realizes what's happening."

"Hm." The wizard didn't seem convinced and I couldn't blame him. Until now, he had believed that he only had one problem to solve, but I had come up with a second, more serious one. He must also be aware that he could only deal with one of them. "You picked an inconvenient time, not to mention the most inconvenient."

"I know."

"I don't want to let you go without protection, but I wonder if you will be let go at all."

A cold hand wrapped itself around my heart. "What do you mean?"

"These are the halls of the Woodland Realm, I have limited influence. You are a prisoner of King Thranduil, he decides whether you go or stay."

The hand began to squeeze tighter. "I can't tell the elves about the Silmaril."

"Aye," Gandalf replied, "that is the root of the problem."

"And Legolas... Thranduilion already distrusts me. I could not give him a good reason for my sudden appearance." Gandalf's gaze shot upwards to mine. He must have noticed that I had hesitated to address Legolas in the formal way. Something that was unusual if you didn't know the person very well. As far as the wizard was concerned, Legolas and I had only shared the task of reuniting the Silmaril shards. Nothing more. I had deliberately kept everything else a secret. It didn't matter, after all, what had been between us had never happened at this very time.

The thought of it gave me a stab, so sudden and painful that I had to swallow and look down. After the last conversation Legolas and I shared, I had avoided thinking about it, suppressing my grief with the fear of Morgoth. And it had worked well, I felt numb, overwhelmed by my new reality. Until now.

The wizard cleared his throat. "It seems to me that this journey has cost you more than just the loss of your old life."

I pressed my lips tightly together, not trusting my voice. Did I have to say something back? Even without an answer, he looked through me like a piece of glass.

"I'll see what I can do. But I won't be able to promise you that Thranduil will let you go. Not if his son is fiercely determined to uncover your secrets."

My voice sounded strained as I asked, "Is there no other way?"

"Let that be my worry. There are some strings I can pull that even Prince Legolas has nothing against. But I'm afraid they'll take a while to work."

"I have no time left."

"I do realize that." He was still looking at me, something like pity had entered his eyes. Or maybe I was just imagining it. "But either we try it my way or you'll be taken back to the cell after I leave."

Again I bit my lip until I tasted blood, this time out of frustration. Why had I ended up here of all places? Why not where I had fallen out of time? But Gandalf was right, I had to admit that to myself. Apart from a direct escape, there was no other option for me but to rely on the influence the wizard owned. And I didn't have the means for the former. At least not yet. "How long is a while?"

"Until my return," said Gandalf.

Return?, I thought. If I remembered correctly, Gandalf would not return to Thranduil's realm. He would be captured first. But I could hardly tell him that. So what should I do? Accept his help and hope that there would be another way to escape? If he at least managed to get me out of the cells, I would have a small chance. I would take the same path Legolas had shown us when we had first escaped from his father's realm. A plan began to form in my head until I nodded. "Very well, then."

"I will speak to Thranduil and have you accommodated in a room. Guards will be placed outside your door, that's all I'll be able to do for the time being."

I thought of my plan. "Thank you."

The wizard nodded, his expression still worried. Then he walked over to the door. "For now, I must take you back to your cell."

"I almost missed it."

Gandalf chuckled. "Come."