3 The twins

The stunning magnificence of the elven city stole her breath away, the landscape showing through the openings as she followed her host around the stone corridors. Lifting up the skirts of her embroidered gown to climb a flight of stairs, Frances marvelled at the sensation on her skin. The smooth aerial silk was the most incredible piece of cloth she had ever worn. After she had slept, bathed and eaten fruits and dry seeds, the young woman had been presented the rich embroidered dress that she was supposed to wear for her encounter with the Lord of the city. Her mouth agape, Frances had protested that she could keep her usual clothes, and was unworthy of such a privilege, being a complete stranger. The blond elf that attended to her had countered that it was suitable garment for a guest of the last homely house, and that she could not possibly be wandering around dressed as a man. Frances had relented.

Her maid did not speak the common tongue so well, but when Frances asked her if the city was safe, she immediately understood her concerns. Frances would not put up a dress if there was the slightest chance they would have to fight or flee. The rather peaceful sounds coming from outside indicated that there was no danger, yet appearances could be deceiving. The maid chattered about a Lord Glorfindel being in charge of the safety of Imladris; if Frances did not get half of it, she understood the message.

Now that the magnificence of the city stood in front of her, Frances held no doubt that the bastion had never been attacked, whether it be because of the power of the elves or luck she did not know. Incredible waterfalls created an enchanting atmosphere as they passed here and there, gliding between buildings and filling the air with moist. The slight breeze played with the volutes of steam, opening curtains of light as sunshine rays descended upon the city. Crossovers and catwalks linked the silvery buildings hanging over the valley, their sides merging with the edges of the mountains as boulders were turned into architectural masterpieces.

Frances walked, her eyes wide open, she realised that the elves' steps were absolutely silent while hers produced an echoing pit pat. The concern quickly faded as the stunning view of a great waterfall graced her eyes, overwhelming her mind with beauty. The young woman had to refrain from running away like a kid to explore every part of the city. The pull of the river was so tempting. Water made her feel safe, it always had and probably always would be this way. Sadly though, they were crossing a long corridor leading to a pair of huge wooden doors. Immediately, anguish came back to claim her. What was she going to tell him? If that guy was really as powerful as Strider said, then lying to him was in no way possible.

Before she knew it both women stood in front of the entrance, and the door squeaked slightly. It was darker inside, and the opening did not make enough room for her to peek in, so when the blond elf showed her the way, Frances did not hesitate and stepped around the massive panel. As she entered in the study, the young woman let her hand rest on the old wood for an instant. The carvings were exquisite, and the feel of wood beneath her palm soother her. Those doors had probably been there for hundreds of years. The gesture did not go unnoticed by the two pairs of eyes that detailed her for the first time.

Frances squinted a little, adjusting to the difference in luminosity. Not that the study was dark, but the light outside had been very bright for late autumn. Two people awaited her to come forth. Standing a few feet from her was a surprising dark-haired elf, his face neither old nor young. His eyes though, a stunning grey, held such wisdom that she felt like kneeling at his feet. The contrast of the raven colour of his hair on his grave figure gave him an air of severity rarely seen amongst his people. That elf radiated power in stunning proportions, and she knew that there was nothing she could keep from him. Lying was simply not an option in the face of those ageless pupils.

- Aside from the kingly elf, an apparent old man was casually sitting in a corner of the room, but his bearing did not fool her for a second. His battered face showed great exhaustion, but there was also a silent determination pouring out of him. Grey hair and beard were covering most of his face, and his clothes did not show anything regarding rank of belonging to any kind of royalty. The plain robes only spoke of hardship and simplicity, there was no information provided in them except that he probably was a traveller, and thus likely to be still in good shape. However, even hidden under his grey mane, there was something that stunned Frances. His eyes were a blue as the ocean, their colour failing at disappearing under the thick eyebrows, and the light buried in their depths was incredibly out of place.

- "Please be welcome in Rivendell" came the elf's commanding voice. "I am Lord Elrond, and this is Gandalf in the common tongue. You have helped people that were precious to us and for this we thank you. There is much to discuss. Would you take a seat?"

He gestured to a dark wooden chair next to her.

- "Thank you my lord"

Frances bowed tentatively. How does someone greet the master of the most beautiful city she had ever seen? In a quick instant, Elrond had her measured, checking her posture as she gracefully took her seat. Her gestures were assured, her brown gaze sincere but also as determined as was possible on a member of the second born. The woman could be dangerous, and it was mandatory that they knew if she could threaten or help them before nightfall. Gandalf was totally motionless on his chair ; he was also checking up on the girl's abilities in more subtle ways that he could. Prophecies were unclear, the knowledge of the origins of the song long forgotten in the great suffering of the Noldor while crossing through ice and starvation. However, few of them still had some hints about who she was, and who she could be. There were no information about what could be her part in the coming war, but the only thing he knew was that she would have a determinant role. The ignorance of it all was making him crazy, but now was the time to swallow one's fears and work for the greater good.

- "As you already know, our world in on the brink of war. You have found the ring bearer and helped him already, what are your intentions for the future?"

The use of the word "world" surprised the young woman quite as much as the question that followed. It was almost as if Lord Elrond knew that she was from another planet.

- "I have to admit that I'm not so sure about what you mean by my intentions in this war?" Frances' face was too serious for it to be a prank, yet Elrond's eyebrows both shot up to the sky.

- "You are the keeper of time, you surely must know…"

Frances stood suddenly, her chair scraping the wooden floor with a screech.

- "What did you call me?"

- "The keeper of time,' he answered calmly, wondering for the first time if it was possible she could be ignorant of her destiny in middle earth.

For an instant Frances stood speechless, slowly integrating the information she had just been given. Those people knew her title, they knew the reason of her presence and they had knowledge about the blue rock. It was the second time somebody called her keeper of time, and she couldn't get anything from the guy who gave it to her in the first place*. Today was maybe the day she would get her answers, and the only thought made her heart race.

- "And what would that be?" she asked slowly, her eyes searching his as if she could extract the information by sucking it up from his brain.

- "I am afraid I cannot tell you, for even the oldest of us do not know."

Silence stretched in the room, and Frances let out a desperate sigh. The disappointment was bitter, and it stroke her like a spear in the chest, taking away blind hope that had risen not a minute ago. As the young woman regained her composure, her features quickly changing from distress to a secured blank mask, her eyes met Gandalf's. A sudden intuition stroke her light a bolt of lightning, some knowledge that she shouldn't have but seemed crystal clear.

- "You may not know, Lord Elrond," she stated coolly without moving an inch, "but HE does…"

At those words, the elf lord turned his head sharply, and his intense gaze silently questioned his friend. This movement told her that there was a hierarchy between the two of them, even if it seemed that they worked together. Clearly no chain of command existed, but the inquisitive look Elrond sent the old man showed an obvious sense of betrayal, as well as a demand for answers. Both beings were powerful, one as a leader, and the other as a pilgrim from what she could fathom. It confirmed that Gandalf was more than a man, because the reverence he got from Elrond was not the one you gave to an equal, especially when one was being a respected elf lord running an entire city immune to the spectrum attack. As Frances turned to the old man in wonder, she saw his eyes twinkle in mischief before he spoke.

Forgoing all attempt at diplomacy, Frances asked.

- "What are you?"

The look he gave her was quite amused, but there was such depth in his gaze that she knew the question had touched home. This man was not ordinary, and the fact that she had felt it so soon obviously surprised him, as well as the elf Lord who now stood dumbfounded in front of her.

- "You can feel people, can't you?"

She nodded, unsure about how to answer when she did not know herself.

- "His eyes told me so."

Gandalf straightened on his chair, and Frances suddenly realised how tall the man was. His voice was deep and rich, full of compassion as he explained his nature.

- "I am of the Istari, a wizard that was sent from overseas to track Sauron and help eliminate the threat."

- "How long ago was that?"

The information could have been trivial, but it would designate him as man or surnatural being.

- "We came to middle earth by crossing the great sea in the year 1050 of this age,' he stated, deciding it was not worth withdrawing his nature from her. "Ever since two of us were lost, but three remain: Saruman the white who heads our council, Radagast the brown and myself, Gandalf the grey,"

Frances said nothing, trying to process the information. She had no idea what the year was, but couldn't possibly tell them so. It would sell her as an outlander for sure. She did not have to ask the question that was burning her lips as Gandalf pursued:

- "I am bound to a human body, but do not age and have looked the same for two thousand years now."

- "Do you read minds?" she asked sharply, making him laugh as Elrond nearly smiled.

- "No, child. I am only very perceptive oh human flaws…"

Frances nodded again. She had to think, to learn about this place and its mythology. Without this knowledge there was nothing that could be done. As elf and wizard stayed silent, she decided to sit down again and push her luck a bit further by asking about the keeper of time.

- "There is not much that is known to others than the Valar, except that the stone you are wearing around your neck allows travels between words, and that the bearer of this channel is called the keeper of time. My souvenirs from before are scarce, so I am afraid there is nothing more I can tell you on the subject except from what is known in middle earth."

- "So you know that I'm not from this world?"

- "Indeed, but it would be better if that remained unsaid."

- "Of course,' she said, sighing in relief that she would not have to hide this.

- "There exist some very old songs and prophecies about the keeper of time,' resumed Elrond, his eyes far away in an attempt to recall them, "but they even predate the age of the trees, and thus have mostly been forgotten, only the words remaining in the oldest of our communities."

- "And what would those songs say?"

- "Mostly that the keeper of time would be incarnated as a woman, and that she has a crucial role in the upcoming battle against evil…"

- "Great,' grumbled Frances. "Are there any texts remaining?"

- "I will grant you at will the access to the library, and surely my foster son or my daughter will be willing to help you learn our language and translate it … she has been dying to meet you since you came here."

- "That would be really helpful my lord."

Frances bowed, realising that for now she did not have any more questions.

- "I think best,' started Gandalf, his grumbling voice startling her, "that you should learn as much as you can while staying with us. Are there any skills you do not master that seem relevant for you?"

- "Uh … apart from languages, history, sword fighting and riding, no…" came her cynical response.

- "You cannot ride?!", was Elrond' startled cry.

- "Nope… Horses don't like me … so much… But I don't like them either, so we're even."

The irony was clear, but Elrond wisely chose to discard it. Sharing a glance with Gandalf, the elf lord sighed:

- "Very well. We will discuss this further and arrange some lessons for you. Regarding your origins, however, you will unfortunately have to follow up with the story you told my son. People in here are mindful and should not be questioning you further…"

Those reassuring words were met by quick commotion in the hallway. The heavy door was suddenly pushed further, interrupting the elf lord. Two dark-haired young elves made their way through, their manner absolutely nonchalant giving the fact that they had just burst in a private meeting with probably two of the most powerful people on middle earth. Lord Elrond's eyebrow lifted up once more as a greeting, and his severe features darkened. Oblivious of the sour mood, both elves smiled at their father; their features were so alike that it was impossible they would not be family.

- "Ada," one of them said, "you asked for us!"

- "So I did, but not before this meeting had ended."

- "I told you he was busy" snipped the second one.

- "Oh come on! You were as impatient as I was to check on that lady Estel talked about…"

- "Estel?" questioned Frances. "And the lady, that would be me… And you are?"

- "My sons. And they should have been waiting outside and thus they will return there and take you to the library. Get your brother or sister as well and see that the lady Frances gets helps in her research. I must speak with Gandalf. Once I am done, I will come to you."

Both twins bowed to the old wizard and their father before turning back to the door and showing her out. As soon as the wooden door was closed, Frances blinked a few times to get used to the luminosity and observed the elves. They did not give her a second before they started asking questions.

- "So where are you from?"

- "What's your father's name?"

Impatient to get moving, the young lady ignored their queries and asked:

- "So where's that library?"

Frowning, the twins did not let it go, insisting that they got an answer. Before she could be rude and interrupt their banter, a yell resonated behind the door with a very angry voice.

- "Go!" shouted Elrond, the sound partially covered by a deep laugh that could only be the wizard's.

Jumping in fright, both elves turned around and started walking swiftly, Frances following them with much effort.

- "This way,' they said at the same time, making her chuckle

- "So what are your names, sons of Elrond?" she smiled.

The youngest one, Elrohir, closed the heavy wooden door behind him. In spite of their status, the two brothers had a mischievous air that spoke of youth and eagerness. The twins led her to the library, and from that day, Frances spend countless hours buried in dusty books. When she was not occupied with the legends of middle earth, her mind went back to the twins. Deciphering their character was not so easy. During the short interval of time they shared, Elladan had acted like the leader in terms of practical arrangements, but it was Elrohir that had tried desperately to have her talk. The youngest of the twins, even by mere minutes,really was a typical second child, while Elladan took the part of the wise one. However, both of them had cheerful manners and seemed eager to speak with her and pierce the mystery of her venue.