Quenya

I was tired of it. For good. I had let another week pass and had not gone to the library. But that was over now! I would not be stuck in this town and even if I would meet the elf again, I had to accept that. He could not prove anything against me, because there was nothing to prove. I was no thief! Period.

After the end of my shift, I had sneaked into the First Ring as if I were exactly what the elf accused me of being and had sat down at my table on the lowest floor. It was still very early in the morning, I had come here right after my shift. And now I had already been brooding over a source in Old Westron for more than three hours, which presented me with an overwhelming challenge. I hadn't been speaking the language long enough to have developed a real sense for it. And this older form didn't make it easy on me. But I felt like I was on to something. And so I hung on.

The silence of the library embraced me almost like a blanket, weighing on me while assuring me that I was all alone. Unfortunately, there was no clock down here and I never took my cell phone to work. You never knew what was happening there, and I didn't want to lose the only memories of my time because some drunken guest tipped his pint over my apron once again.

After a brief pause, I bent over the writing again, my eyes squinted to better read the faded ink. There was no daylight coming down here, so I had to be content with two candles. I was just about to decipher the next phrase when a book slapped on the table next to me.

I jumped up, my heart racing so fast that it threatened to jump out of my throat. My hand had automatically reached for one of my daggers, but I lowered it when I realized who had appeared beside me out of nowhere. "Legolas," I said sourly. "You shouldn't sneak up on me like that. Even if you don't believe me, I can defend myself." So there he was. It had only been a matter of time.

"I'll try to make more noise next time."

"There won't be a next time. What are you doing here?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm interested in the contents of the writings. As are you."

"Is that so?", I asked, half-covering the source I'd been working on for the last few hours with my arm. I would have loved to kick him out, but we both knew he wasn't the one secretly visiting the library.

"Of course." He looked completely serious, but I'd picked up enough about elves to know that they were at least as sarcastic as Girdis when someone tried to pull one over on her. After all, most of them had many thousands of years to raise their sarcasm to the next level. So I looked at him suspiciously, "Do you want me to leave?"

"No." He pointed to the book he had put down beside me. "I have come because of this."

I quickly glanced at the title, but it meant nothing to me. Mostly because it was written in Quenya, one of the Elven languages. I vaguely recognized the Tengwar characters. "I don't speak your language, and I can't read it either."

"That's a good thing," he said cheerfully, and I felt like he was going to add something next that I didn't like at all, "because I can."

I had to pull myself together to keep from rolling my eyes. "And why should I care?"

"Well," he leaned in so that our upper arms were just inches apart. I moved a bit to the side. "You have an unusual research topic. I'm surprised that a human woman working in a tavern in the Seventh Ring can read writings in Old Westron." Reading was too far-fetched, I rather tortured my way through the manuscript, but he didn't need to know that.

"Do you believe me now that I'm not coming here to steal?" Because that was the reason he was still pursuing me, wasn't it?

"Are you making progress?" he asked instead of an answer.

"With what?"

"On your research topic."

I scoffed. "First you want to accuse me of stealing, and now that you've determined I'm not a thief, you're trying to quiz me about my true intentions?"

"I might as well point out to the library administration that a key has been copied for someone who is not authorized to possess it."

With my lips pressed together, I looked at him. I knew the wiser course was to give in, but the expression in the elf's gaze told me that was exactly what he expected. And the rebellious part of me didn't want to give him that satisfaction. "If you say so. Do it." His eyes widened barely noticeably. "But you should think about the fact that if you do so, I'll never tell you why I'm here. And it seems to me that you are more interested in that than I am in what is written in this book." I tapped on the book in Elvish that he had brought.

"That means you're going to tell me?"

"You have a talent for jumping to conclusions."

Again, a barely noticeable smirk played around his lips. "If I knew what you were looking for, I could tell you with certainty if there was anything in the book that would help you. This way, I can only promise."

I rolled up the script in Old Westron that I had been studying for the past few hours. "You don't have to promise me anything. I don't trust you."

If I didn't know better, I would have thought the elf seemed offended. "You know who I am. Who do you trust if not a member of the Fellowship of the Ring?"

A small snort escaped me again. "You know, I am grateful for what you have done for Middle Earth. I really am. And also for what you do for the city. It's just unfortunate that none of it is getting to the people who need it most." The moment I said it, I knew I had gone too far. I had forgotten who I was talking to. Not only was he a noble, a prince, and an elf even, but he was in direct contact with the king himself. For a brief moment, I had been back in my world, forgetting that different laws applied here in Middle Earth.

We had talked far too long.

"Excuse me." Abruptly, I stood up and put the roll aside. "There is nothing you could offer me. Just let me keep searching. Alone."

Unlike what I expected, the Elf's gaze did not punish me with rebuke. He was rather... contemplative? Sad? As the silence stretched, I gave him a curt nod and left the library.

Would I ever set foot in it again?