13 | I'm in a Getaway Car

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Curufinwë Fëanáro | The Engineer

Location: School of Engineering, Oxford, UK, Earth

Time: August 2027

He should thank the summer holidays for giving him the breath to relax. With so much going on, he wasn't sure how he had been able to function.

Alongside the issue with Eä and Dagor Dagorath, Theodore Madoc and the Raft, and Illyria Strange's list of names to find: he also had postgraduate applications, undergraduate exams, and new student applications to get through. Not to mention having to begin preparations to move his and Illyria's work to his company research facilities.

At first, the young astrophysicist refused his suggestion in moving their work across the country. Probably since Illyria Strange didn't trust him entirely despite all the support and work he had done for her and their sake. But during those times, and perhaps him warming up to his supposed titled daughter, Fëanor managed to finally gain the support from her that would allow him and them to move their equipment and the Silmaril portal up to his headquarters.

On one condition, however. To make sure that the contacts he gave to Darcy Lewis - and vice versa - would be able to meet with them before she would return from whatever trip she was going with his second-eldest son.

That was also something in which he had been struck with shock and emotion.

Seeing his son, knowing eventually who he was, had snapped a string within his chest. Could it be his heart breaking once more, with the first being Caranthir shouting at him for neglecting their choice with the Oath and their exile – and now seeing him? 

Maglor, his second-eldest son, who wandered realities for possibly beyond the age of elven lifespans, simply greeted him so tensely.

Deep down in his heart: Fëanor wanted to ask what had caused him to do this. Why did Maglor go down this path? Why out of all people did he choose to side with the sorcerers? With beings that meddled with reality and fate.

The first thing he wanted to do was blame them. The Valar. He would always blame them for the consequences. Despite knowing the counterarguments many others and his siblings have concurred, they would never outweigh his disappointment and anger against the quasi-gods who dictated their lives. It was the very reason he chose science and respected Earth. Gods and cosmic beings didn't affect their lives on a small scale. And even if they did, there were people like superheroes and gods who would retaliate against them.

But his son...his son looked exhausted.

He knew those eyes despite their eerie glow – how much they've seen. How much death, destruction, and pain Maglor had seen would not match anything else others had.

Though, his stubbornness and Maglor's didn't want to confront it. And he could tell from Maedhros and Illyria that they were waiting for him or Maglor to at least talk to one another.

That never seemed to come. 

Well. Not yet anyway, considering it was too risky to have two Silmarils together (or so he knew). 

Fëanor was confused and albeit suspicious between the three who arrived. There was something between his sons and Illyria that they didn't want to divulge, causing him to glower internally. Had it been something to do with why they found Maglor or the reason why Illyria Strange would be going with Maglor somewhere unknown?

Fëanor was thinking constantly about it. Even as to why Maglor had conspired with Lúthien Tinúviel and Beren Erchamion, out of all people, as well with something deeper and personal to their family. His son has made moves in this large and long game, with a reincarnated elleth, Morgoth and the Valar entirely involved.

And it was why he began to perhaps think again, how much had the Silmarils truly meant to the world? He knew that they were beyond the knowledge and power he had intended them to be before getting killed. How he and Nerdanel had known about the consequences of their decisions.

But this...how much did the Valar and Morgoth want them? And how did they know their capabilities?

That was why he needed more time. If he could move the machine and the Silmaril to his headquarters, away from the prying eyes of potential concerning parties: he could perhaps crack the reason how it had been able to produce so much. How powerful were the energies of the Trees, combined with his and Nerdanel's, causing such a chain of events?

But now, the only thing to which he had to worry now was them. Just after Richard Mason had brought them back closer to Oxford, he had noted that several parties from agencies had been recently getting suspicious of him. Probably as to why he hadn't been attending conferences or invitations to galas. He was his businessman and consultant; hiding because of work for too long would put Fëanor into the spotlight.

And as much as he did like attention, this wasn't the case when everything went completely out of plan.

It had only been a few hours since Illyria left when Fëanor had been doing a presentation seminar for several applicant students for the master's program that something began to seem wrong. With the luck of the protection spells and wards still in place in the lab, he was able to keep Aegnor and Madoc inside until he was able to get them and sort them out.

His presentation had been about using renewable energy to create new materials. Most of it was his recent research, which if somebody knew who he truly was about the creation of his crystalline material. Silima. It had been a few years since he had been trying to attempt a way to create it, though it would seem no matter how much he tried, magic seemed to be the only missing thing he needed.

And at that moment: his magic was still quite limited to a few minor tricks.

That didn't stop him from finding a solution through science. A lot of those who attended were quite captivated, asking questions and with him either annoyingly having to simplify it to not confuse the student or having himself bored by the repetition of some of them. Some other researchers came along, mostly doctorate students wanting to get away from their laboratories and libraries and even some lecturers from the department.

"These materials can not only be made through the harness of radiation but also allow to contain it. Its properties can withstand the high frequency up to gamma radiation, shown by the numerous tests the company and I have done for the past several years." He explained.

The seminar hall was half full, with some writing notes whilst others had laptops in front of them.

Fëanor turned to the next slide, changing the slide of the projection behind him. "We hope that with the help of now Dr Bruce Banner's notes on gamma radiation and Dr Darcy Lewis' theory on energy anomaly containment, we could therefore harness radiation in a safer and more environmentally friendly way. This could reduce the use of fossil fuels, reduce carbon emissions, and potentially reduce the staggering incline of our planet to 2050—"

He paused momentarily, sensing a vibration in his right pocket. 

As he carefully slipped out his phone, all he could feel was the air growing stagnant at what he saw.

Shown on the phone screen was a message.

They know. 

Oxford is compromised. – Darcy Lewis

Finneas cursed under his breath.

He knew someone was going to get suspicious.

Locking his phone, he glanced back up at the confused and patient faces. He eyed them, wondering if either of them was here for the sake of him and not his lecture. And from the looks of things, he noticed at least three of them eyeing him a little too much. Fëanor tried to act calm, placing his phone back into his pocket before he cleared his throat.

"Apologies everyone. Something came up, a personal emergency, unfortunately." 

Murmurs began to unravel through the room but he continued, "But if you would like to learn more about our research and are hoping to be going here, feel free to email me. My contacts are on the university website as well as Silma Ltd. Thank you for your time."

There was a round of applause before the sound of shuffling seats and people moved around the room. With his laptop quickly put back into his bag along with his other belongings, Fëanor smiled at the thanks he was given whilst he rushed past through.

And at that moment he knew those three men hidden in plain sight begin to manoeuvre towards him – understanding now that both Darcy Lewis and Mason were right.

It would seem he had company.

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He barged through the doors of his laboratory, striding across the room as quickly as he could before he found his gaze towards both a concerned super soldier and his nephew.

Fëanor glared at them and ordered back, "Both of you need to leave."

The first person who had reacted had been Madoc, who swore quite loudly causing Aegnor to frown at the language. "They know I'm here. Fuck." Madoc cursed once more before he demanded, "How?"

Instead of answering back, Fëanor decided to stride over to his work desk alongside Illyria's and begin packing things, hiding most of the files and papers they had whilst taking several of the things he would perhaps need.

He ordered Aegnor and Madoc to help him despite Madoc's silent protests, telling them to start putting everything under the drawers and leaving things untouched. They wouldn't be able to get through unless the wards would be broken, but he had to make sure in case. He was not taking any risk if whoever wanted them had access to such means of magic.

Especially with what he speculated from the three figures just moments ago, he doubted they were simply ordinary men.

The last thing he did was head over to the platform of the machine, removing the panelling underneath the side of the grillage before taking the perfectly cased Silmaril connected to the wiring. Fëanor took a huff of breath before grabbing it, wincing slightly at the touch of its surface. Even when it was encased its light still affected him.

After opening the metal protective case, he placed the jewel inside.

It only took another minute before he stopped and explained in a blunt tone, "It would seem someone has been seeing the energy signals in the lab. I need to leave with the jewel." As he clicked the case closed, he walked over to the blonde elf and eyed him. He spoke with a stern gaze, "Angaráto, you must find her. She needs to know."

Aegnor's face morphed into even more confusion. "Who? Wait, what is going on?"

He answered him, taking something from his bag. "Someone has been tracking our work," Fëanor peered before he looked away, turning towards Madoc's position in the room. "I don't know who but that is far from the problems we are in."

Passing it into Aegnor's hand, he showed what seemed to be a singular large envelope.

His nephew on the other hand looked at him with concern. Was it familial concern or simply because he would be now alone in an unknown world?

Probably the latter. He was technically going to have him wander about and try and find a supposed person Fëanor was expecting.

But plans had changed. He was supposed to meet with them and perhaps try and decipher the truth.

With an exhale, Fëanor calmly spoke, "Her name is Andrea Barnard but you will recognize who she is." With a short nod from his nephew, he then stalked over to the super-soldier. "Madoc—"

There was then the sound of footsteps.

Quite several of them.

And the sound of clicks.

Madoc glanced towards the main doors, his hands already turning into fists as he muttered, "They're here. Do we fight?"

A scoff left his lips. He gestured out a hand as he gripped the case tightly into his hand. "If you want to be shot, go ahead. But we will be going with them." Madoc opened his mouth in shock but was stopped when Fëanor flicked his head and snapped at his nephew. "Go, Angaráto: I know why they brought you here. You might as well do the right thing."

Aegnor asked, "Should I contact Nelyafinwë?"

Ah. That was one thing. But if he knew well enough, they would perhaps know who his son was and where he could be if he contacted them. They needed to get out of this situation without it escalating.

No less they expose themselves to the world.

Shaking his head, he answered him. "Not yet. It would be best to try and get through this first without any violence...or external forces."

There was then a knock on the door, growing louder into a full banging of fists.

The only way for them to get out here alive – was to do exactly what they wanted.

Nudging his chin, he pointed towards the open window on the upper wall. Aegnor widened his eyes, acknowledging what Fëanor had hinted before he nodded. With a mutter of good luck (which surprised him slightly), his nephew's elven stature was able to clamber gracefully up to the windows along with his satchel and the large file.

The doors were now moving, shaking as Fëanor stood patiently in the middle of the room.

All whilst Madoc was looking absolutely livid, annoyed and confused. "Wait what? Why are we going with them?" He hissed, stomping up to him as he added, "You said they're here for us. What if they know I'm here—"

That was when Fëanor snapped, his face looking up to him with fire in his chest. With a low voice, he hissed towards him: "You out of all people...just listen to me and perhaps you will keep your head."

Madoc clamped his mouth shut and grunted. Honestly, he was surprised he hadn't snapped yet after having him here for almost two days.

But Fëanor knew. He understood how to play this game.

And if he wanted to gain the upper hand: he'll make them believe they were winning.

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Andrea Barnard | Doctor in Psychology

Location: School of Engineering, Oxford, UK, Earth

There was a saying that her mother used to tell her when she was a little girl.

She told her that myths all derive somewhat from a true source and that in the rare case: it was still true from there on. And in a way, her mother might as well declare herself a clairvoyant, considering that their world consisted of Norse Gods from outer space, Greek Gods who were in turn similar and creatures from the depths of the sea and land to be pretty much real.

Andrea Barnard loved her mother, the late Abigail Barnard. Her mother had lost her husband – Andrea's father – during the conflict in Afghanistan.

She had just been a little girl when her father had been sent as a doctor for the British Army, barely enough to understand the idea of war and death. She could only remember all those times they went up to Lake District or the Scotland Highlands in the holidays, both her parents telling her everything from history to philosophy to science.

All those times soon blurred into just glimpses upon a sped-up video, and only one moment in her entire life had she remembered exactly what her father said to her just days before he left Oxford.

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"My darling girl, take care of yourself and your mum, alright?" He told her, cupping her chin gently as he smiled – tears on the creases of his cheeks. "You are so wise beyond your years. I can see it in your eyes. Maybe you might not understand it now, but this is not a goodbye. I'll see you again."

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She remembered holding him tightly, wailing in tears as she watched him get inside the car and drive off down the road. Her mum throughout those years when he was away seemed yet happy and cheerful, though it was hard ignoring the truth whenever they were back at home. Her constantly waiting at the door, thinking her dad would be coming inside at one moment. The letters that her dad would send about his time abroad, talking about the culture and the place.

Then the news arrived. A letter and a person came to them, informing both her mother and her that Dr Ethan Barnard had passed away: killed by an unexpected attack at one of their camps. Her father had been apparently helping those evacuate, tending to civilians that were badly hurt.

Apparently, it had been the Ten Rings. A terrorist group who had not only captured a town in rural Afghanistan.

It would only be a few years later, after her father's death, that Tony Stark would be captured by the same people who killed him.

They held a funeral for his name, with several from the British Army paying for their respects to them and her father's family. That had been when she met her aunt: Sandra Marshall, who was in fact her mum's sister. She had come home from America since the news, willing to help her mum and her considering most of their family lived up north.

Her mother had not been the same since Dad passed away, growing into a state of depression for most of her primary and half of her secondary school life. Andrea could only thank so much for Aunt Sandra who was always with them during that time, helping not only her mum but Andrea as well. She would often go to her school shows, encouraging her mum to go as well. And sometimes when her mum wasn't too well, Aunt Sandra would go instead.

Andrea hadn't realised much how much her aunt replaced her mum with these things, realizing that her memories of her childhood as she grew up now consisted of Aunt Sandra. Her aunt had taught her how to listen and to observe people, to understand them in a way that wasn't forceful or beyond the boundaries of morality.

That had been when Andrea had fallen in love with the subject of psychology. The study of people and their behaviours. She found it fascinating with all those theories of growing up. The idea of nature versus nurture and the components of what made humanity, well, human.

It was why she had picked psychology as a subject to study beyond her secondary education. With luck and effort, she gained a place at Oxford University for psychology. At least then she wasn't too far from home, having just to walk from her college for twenty minutes to visit her mum and aunt who lived on the eastern side of the city.

She graduated in just four years along with a prospect of gaining a master's degree in the same subject in the future; that had been when the Sokovia Accords had been implemented and the supposed Civil War broke out between the Avengers. It was also at the same time that her mum finally seemed to get better. She was less sombre in the weeks, more willing to and enthusiastic to go out and spend time with her. They had decided that summer to go away, to celebrate her graduation up north to where they – as a family – would go.

Andrea thought that from then on, maybe things would get better for them all. Maybe she would get the mother that she had lost along with her father back.

Then it all went to dust.

At one moment she had been walking to her childhood home in 2018...

...the next she found herself stumbling on the same street but completely different than before.

Five minutes and a panicked demand from a random passerby later – Andrea found out it had been five years since she had disappeared.

Half of the population of the universe had been wiped out for five years, only to be brought back by the Avengers.

No words could describe the empty shock she had within her. Neither anyone could comprehend what had happened. She had lost five years...and all she could think then was wondering where her mother and aunt were.

When she arrived at her mother's place, she was relieved to find it at the door. 

Her mum threw herself at her, hugging her with tears as she thanked God for having her back. But after their heartfelt reunion, all Andrea could think of was where Aunt Sandra could have been. The last time she knew had been a text from her, telling Andrea that she was going to some conference in Berlin.

It took Andrea a week to realise what happened.

Her aunt had lost her life on the plane back to London.

The woman who had been both at their side. A mother figure, a sister figure: was gone.

Andrea didn't even get to say goodbye. Nobody had mourned for her, having it been five years since her death. That had been the case for nearly everyone who was brought back at the same time. Whilst she was lucky to still have something, some sort of record of her life still here, others hadn't been so lucky.

Many had lost their families, their friends and even their homes and jobs. Returning to the university was strange for her, considering there were new faces she hadn't seen and those who were five years older than before. People were struggling with the news and issues arising. Crime, outbreaks of reformation and the rise of out-of-world threats were not only affecting people like the Avengers: but everyday people like herself.

Andrea Barnard was someone who push through and continued. She wasn't going to lose herself in this chaos. Her mother needed her and the people – those who were traumatized by the outcome of the Blip – needed her.

After finishing her doctorate at such a speed record, thanks to the circumstances of the months after the Blip as well as her motivations, she then graduated as a doctor in psychology and began to apply for practice as a therapist. Andrea wanted to help people in a way that her aunt helped her mother. She wanted people to have access to help no matter who they were and possibly what they were.

Hence when she finally bought her own house, just a few streets from where her mum lived, she had solely made it for the sake of her job. She wanted to make it homely, to make people at ease and more importantly – about them. Not her.

She began getting clients, some finding her practice helpful whilst some not so much. Of course, Andrea knew she wouldn't entirely be the best at first. In time she would understand what works and what didn't for some individuals. There were at times when frustration got the best of her, and she had to remind herself that it wasn't about her and that she needed to simply work her way around the problem and carefully pick up the pieces of the puzzle.

Because in a nutshell: people were puzzles. Their appearance and work were merely clues to knowing who they were and what was causing them to be who they were. Their choices were their moves, which pieces should fit upon the answer of who they truly were.

And her greatest puzzle to date was two people whom she never believed to be knocking at her door.

One was the daughter of a supposed sorcerer.

Miss Illyria Strange: a new doctorate student at Oxford University.

And Mister Mae Lewis...who was in reality: Maedhros Fëanorion from The Silmarillion.

At first, Andrea couldn't accept the reality of it. How someone from the books she had read as a kid was in fact real. And after her conversation on the phone with Illyria Strange about the situation, the first thing she had done was head back to her mum and talk about it.

She wasn't sure why it had stumped her to no end. Yes, Andrea knew that the younger woman who had asked for a session had been truthful and genuine about it all. But could she accept having to hear Maedhros Fëanorion's story and problems? She knew his story, his tragic end because of the Oath he took from his father.

Her mum had looked at her conflicted expression, only telling her once again those very words she said to her all those years. Andrea had to be open-minded about this. This was her job after all: to help those like Illyria and Maedhros to overcome the issues they faced.

At first, it was a rough start. The incredibly tall – and quite terrifying – Noldo elf had stormed out in anger in the first session. He hadn't known the true experience of being asked questions and she was shocked that elves hadn't come up with such things as psychological therapy. But then again, from the portrayals of movies and television shows, Middle Earth was still stuck centuries behind with what they had here.

But Andrea didn't give up then.

She refused to give up on someone. Even if it meant having to push boundaries to make some difference.

Slowly she gained their trust. First with Illyria Strange and then eventually with Maedhros Fëanorion. She had been surprised that Illyria had been an elf as well, but had been reincarnated into human form in this universe. Or so how she explained it to them. Andrea wasn't a theoretical physicist; she understood the idea of other realities but only had a small view of them.

There was a mutual understanding between her and Illyria. The young woman wanted Maedhros to understand how much this would help him, as he had suffered so much during the First Age of Middle Earth and at least needed something to ground himself. Her willingness to focus more of their sessions on Maedhros showed some admiration from Andrea that she realised then how much Illyria had cared about the red-haired elf.

Illyria considered Maedhros the brother she needed the most, because what happened months ago (before Maedhros arrived) had been why she had come to Andrea in the first place.

She didn't know much of the details, only the information to which Maedhros confirmed when he first came to her – without Illyria at his side. Andrea had felt something deep within her, a sorrow that truly helped her shape the puzzle of who Illyria was. They had both lost their family. Their people and their world and now having to pick up the pieces of what Earth was. Maedhros's subtle love for Illyria was evident in his eyes. She knew that Maedhros thought of her as the little sister as well, and despite Andrea never experiencing having a sibling – it felt somehow understandable for her. Like she knew what it felt like to have siblings and to lose them. To also lose their loved ones because of war.

As the two years passed by, her sessions with them became more of a friendly chat than between a doctor and her patients – it was then she began to sense something different.

And no; it wasn't physical or mental or anything. Like Andrea could sense that things felt...familiar.

Maybe knowing an elf from another world and a sorceress was making her see things. Her childhood memories resurfaced. Dreams and nightmares consisted of reflections and fires.

Grey eyes.

That was the one thing that she never stopped thinking about the moment she met them. However, Illyria Strange had deep ocean eyes whereas Maedhros were a mixture of icy blue and grey. Not pure grey.

The dream hadn't affected her. No. In a way, it had merely just reminded her even more, that perhaps her father was right and that her eyes were beyond her age not because of her growth – but possibly of knowing previous lives.

But reincarnation? She might know about it and accept it, but Andrea couldn't accept that she would be one of them.

Until that rainy day.

The moment she opened the door to see Maedhros – surprised by his unexpected visit – she should have known it wasn't about their sessions.

Reincarnation? Gods...was her mum and dad right about her all this time? She couldn't believe even thinking about it, even when Maedhros had handed her the letter telling her that it would tell her everything and what it meant for them. Something about how she could help them and their world?

Her? How the hell could she help them? She couldn't fight. She didn't know anything other than to run.

When Maedhros left her house, the first thing she did wasn't go to her mum but to think by herself. Should she trust the words coming from someone like Maedhros? What if he was wrong and she wasn't who he thought she was? 

But then in the far depth of her head: she felt that it was right.

But how? How could she not know about something like this?

Andrea had been so distraught that for the first time she didn't turn up at her mum's doorstep. Instead, she visited the cemetery. Standing before them, she looked at both her dad's and Aunt Sandra's tombstones. Had they known as well that maybe she was different?

All those comments about her being older than she was...

As the weeks passed and August came around, Andrea finally had the courage and texted Maedhros. She wanted to talk to him, to speak about whatever this was about and why she was involved in the first place. But all she got was simply an address.

The address to the School of Engineering in the city.

Apparently, Maedhros insisted that it would be best for his father to tell her. And the realization daunted her. That would mean Fëanor, now known as Doctor Finneas Cuthbert, had barely begun teaching back when she began her degree there. A few of her friends from her college knew him (mostly fawning over the man) and commented on how his lectures always were memorable and captivating.

If only Andrea knew then why.

So as she eyed the letter that had been sitting at her desk for the past week, she eyed the calendar and heaved. Today seemed to be the right time to finally meet this professor.

Andrea took the bus down to the centre of the city, getting off at the right stop as she clutched her small shoulder bag to which her phone, wallet and letter were. The building wasn't that far, only a couple of minutes of walking. She took her time to study the place. It had been some time since she had wandered about here.

With summer in a full swing, there were only a few days in the weeks when it was bustling with PhD students, visitors, and lectures. She caught several faces that she remembered, smiling kindly back at them before she arrived at the entrance of the Engineering Department.

Walking into the reception, she eyed the notes on her phone on where Dr Cuthbert told her where he should be – which was at a seminar hall that he was taking around this time. But by the emptiness of the place and how she could hardly see anyone from the doors, Andrea frowned in confusion.

Had he finished early? If so: where would he be then?

Thank fate that she spotted two figures chatting just outside the entrance. She walked over to them, excusing herself before she asked the two if they had seen them.

The first person wearing rather casual clothes (fitting the weather now) responded, shaking his head. "Sorry miss, Dr Cuthbert was escorted out by several police authorities."

Come again?

She must've heard that right? Did the guy just say police?

Andrea was getting more confused by the second as she questioned back, "What for?"

"We don't know," The person beside him, wearing quite the opposite and wearing a suit, answered. "But we heard that apparently, they're taking him to London. Not sure why though."

She pursed her lips and internally asked herself what had happened. Did Maedhros' dad do anything to anger the government?

She could take that back. Obviously. The elf defied the Valar and got punished because of it.

The man in khaki shorts hummed, "Must be about those New Accords. He advises Illyria Strange, you know." He grinned slightly, nudging his friend as he added, "Like Doctor Strange's kid or apprentice. Not sure, I'm not into that superhero news."

"How is it his kid? She looks nothing like him!" The guy in the suit raised a brow.

Khaki shorts retorted, "Well maybe she's adopted. Sorcerers can adopt, you plank." He pointed out as well, "And like that tall dude. The Red Wolf."

Red Wolf? Were they talking about Maedhros?

"Oh yeah. Scary guy."

Yep. Definitely sounds like Maedhros.

Suit man had a glint in his sly smile as he replied, "But he's hot though. I'd climb that guy any day."

Andrea awkwardly eyed them before she politely excused herself. "Um, thank you anyways," Andrea spoke. 

As the two said to her to have a good day, she wondered to herself if that was going to be anything but the truth.

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She left the grounds a little deflated and perhaps frustrated.

Andrea hoped Maedhros would be here, or at least from what he said to her, his father. Even then, she hadn't really thought of what she would say if she even met him. For God's sake, he was Fëanor of the Noldor. One of the most known characters in Tolkien's works, and sadly had not had a good childhood when it came to being taught the good and bad of such moralities.

With a heavy sigh, she eyed up to the sky – the sun practically beating down at her. She was amazed at herself that she hadn't melted already, deciding then to take her brown suede jacket off – waving the collar of her blue blouse with a huff. Maybe she should have left the house without it.

Andrea decided to walk around and maybe wait for Maedhros' or Illyria's call. None of them seemed to pick up the first time, or even reply to her texts asking where they were and if they were in the city now. By the third ring on Maedhros' phone and the second on Illyria's, all Andrea got was a voice memo which made her mentally sigh in stress. Her stress became worry. What had happened to them? They would often call back or text at most if this was the case?

But even then, they were always and still be her clients first. She knew that despite being closer than most of her patients, Andrea barely knew what they did beyond the rooms they revealed their worries to.

So why was she so insistent to know?

That part of her was whispering again the same words.

'Open the letter, Andrea...'

No. She wasn't going to fall into temptation. If Andrea was going to know who she was, she was going to be told in person and not by the words upon a piece of paper.

Damn Maedhros Lewis for being like this. How he knew what she was like was probably why he even gave her the letter. He knew from her previous life what she was like along with what she was like now.

He could have at least told which year she was born or where she was born in Middle Earth. Oh, all things she might have been some woman who didn't matter at all to the stories from Tolkien.

It still felt odd to think that someone knew what their world was despite not knowing the future.

Unless...

Andrea looked to her right, only to find a man jogging up to her from across the street. Her first instinct was to peer at them, first in confusion and then to suspicion. The man wore brown trousers matched with a black polo shirt worn under a light navy jacket. As the sound of his leather shoes hit the pavement, he halted just several feet from her and took his shades off – showing an unfamiliar face back at her.

He then asked back with a slightly ragged breath, "Hey, are you Andrea Barnard?"

She continued to peer back at him as she carefully asked, "Yes...are you Doctor Cuthbert?"

Shaking his head, his lips quirked to a slight grin before he answered: "Oh, no." The middle-aged man introduced himself, "I'm Elliot Madden. Illyria's friend and Elrond's brother."

Andrea's mind took a while to click until she noticed the rather joining features. The greyish eyes and the dark short hair. His tall stature was almost elf-like. 

She slowly guessed in return, "You're...Elros."

The man nodded before he then offered back, "I was just going to Illyria's when I saw the lab and seminar hall was empty, do you want a lift?"

Oh? She hadn't known that this man – Elliot (Elros? She wasn't sure which one he preferred) – for barely half a minute and now he was offering a lift? And the first thing she learnt from her parents and Aunt Sandra was to not get into the car with strangers.

That was why she had stood there, analyzing him for a short moment. He seemed not too shady. From the nice, branded clothes and his approach, Elliot Madden didn't seem he was trouble. In fact: it looked like he was heading into trouble instead.

And that was why the stupid part in her mind simply folded in and accepted the gesture.

Well, it was better than walking in the heat.

With a slight smile, she spoke. "That would be good, thank you. I was about to walk there as well." Andrea reached out to shake his hand before he gestured her to follow him to where his car was supposed to be parked. Whilst they did, Andrea revealed to him why she was here in the first place, "I wanted to come here because Maedhros said I would find his father here."

From the corner of her eye, she saw him nod along before he answered back solemnly, "I came here because I needed to warn them that they're being watched."

A cold feeling washed over her.

"What? By whom?" Andrea questioned with worry.

They arrived at what seemed to be the car park around the Engineering building, finding themselves walking over to a rather fancy new car. This Elliot Madden must be quite wealthy, or at least enough to afford a nice car. With the click of the keys, he was quite a gentleman and opened the passenger seat for her. Andrea took it with ease, though still more alert than usual. She had yet to trust this man until he tells her why he was looking for Maedhros and Illyria.

As the man got into the driver's seat, he looked at her and responded in two-three words: "Government and UN."

She inhaled inside. Well those ticks off her suspicious of him taking them, but how would he have known about it? As she was putting on her seatbelt, the sound of the engine ignited as Andrea revealed more of what happened minutes ago: "Some students said Dr Cuthbert was escorted by some secret police. Along with another person."

With hands on the wheel, Elliot began to drive out of the car park, turning into the street after setting up the destination. He said with a grim tone, "We might be a bit late then." As they drove quietly, he continued to tell her what he had known. "My job said about it. I work coinciding with the government and when my colleague found out I was with them with the balrog she warned me to keep my head low."

He explained more about what he did. How the company he had was supposed to help smaller companies and organizations due to the Blip. They invested in giving money to them, offering aid when they needed it the most and helping the lowest to come out of poverty. In a way, Andrea was surprised and impressed at his work.

Quite poetic too...

Once a helper for the people, still a helper despite no title.

However, her concern was mostly to do with why Dr Cuthbert and he was wanted along with Maedhros and Illyria. Is that where they were? Have they been taken as well?

Andrea was nervously holding her bag tightly, glancing between him and the road as she asked, "Why would they want them? They haven't done anything wrong have they?"

She looked at him.

The reincarnated half-elf said nothing.

"Have they?" Andrea pressed.

She must have been breathing quite heavily because the first thing he did was tell her to calm down. Before long he inhaled in somewhat of a sigh. He began, "It's...when you live in a world like this, people get scared of things they don't understand, Andrea."

And people who do understand try and control it. Look what happened. Wars and battles happened. People tried to understand and tried to resolve it through violence. There was a reason why she didn't like these things. War, fights. She wasn't a fighter.

Andrea replied with a frown, "Yes...but it's stupid for them to think—Watch out!"

"Fuck!"

A scream left both their mouths as she felt her body lurch forward.

It had all happened in the spur of the moment. The figure of a person running across the street. Right in front of them before there was the sound of a thud and the feeling of them hitting the front.

As the car stopped suddenly, Andrea's hands had gripped the side so hard that she could have sworn they had gone white. Her heart was pumping rapidly, the ringing in her ears following its pace as she tried to breathe.

All she could shout was this: "Oh my god!"

"Oh god!" Elliot's hand was still at the wheel and brake, his frozen body and eyes only fixated on what just happened.

Andrea yelled back, "You just ran someone over!"

"I just ran someone over!"

Well no shit.

What else could it have been? Roadkill?

Elliot groaned and swore loudly, "Oh fuck!"

She moved her shaking hands, trying to calm herself down but all she could muster out was more exclamations as she turned to him and said, "That man just walked across!"

It wasn't even Elliot's fault. Whoever they had hit, the guy should have known they were coming. There were barely any cars down this road, considering it was a residential one.

Oh god...her mum was really going to kill her.

First time in her twenty-seven years she had never done anything wrong, not even a record or choice of smoking or substances.

And then somehow this all happened. All in one day as well!

Finally, Andrea Barnard had the nerve to unlock the door, clambering out as quickly as she could and rushing around to the front of the car. Elliot followed suit, running up to the fallen figure that was now groaning in possible immense pain.

How the guy was even conscious after thirty miles per hour baffled her.

Elliot stood over the man, gulping as his face turned white. "Not even a guy." He cursed out loud as he slapped a hand over his mouth. "Fucking Christ!"

However, she was more focused on the man. Crouching down on the road, she reached out to find his neck, trying to roll his head up. The man was incredibly tall, maybe a little shorter than Maedhros but still rather tall. His hair was blonde, long and plaited, and his clothes.

Andrea waved her hands, trying to sense his pulse but was stopped by his hand. How was this guy awake? And still, moving? "Oh my god, are you alright?" She blustered out, still trying to assure him to not move despite his protests. "I'm so sorry! I..."

"I am alright! I'm alright..." His voice rang into her ears as he let out another groan, his eyes still closed as he tried to flex his hands. "I had not been hit like that in many years..."

As she moved back, she watched him open his eyes – looking up at her.

A pair of grey eyes.

The same eyes from her dream.

And it was then he said one word.

"Andreth?"

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A/N: Happy New Year! Holy smokes it's 2023, which means we are catching up to the MCU timelines. And that terrifies me because so much happened. Such as Endgame and WandaVision. :,(

But enough of that, I thought of gifting you four updates on this story considering I barely did any this month. The past few weeks have been hectic, with a lot of family and travel that I wasn't able to sit down and edit any of this.

Though storywise, I'm getting close to the good bits. :) Such as Aegnor getting run over but we'll catch up with them next time.

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Edited: 02/01/23