A Treasure Beyond Compare (ThorinxOCxOC)

Chapter 10

Disclaimer:The Hobbit belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, WB, MGM. This is a noncommercial derivative work. I only own Adelaide.

The stack of books wobbled precariously in my arms, threatening to spill on the floor. I might have gone a bit overboard.

The elven librarian steadied the pile to keep the precious books from getting damaged. "Do you require some assistance carrying these?"

"No, now that I'm off bed rest I plan to tackle the heavy research I've been forced to put off." I told him.

I intended to savor every moment of my freedom and find myself a way off Middle Earth. After the argument with Thorin I had a lot of time to think about my situation and what would be best for me.

For the time being, I had no plans to abandon the company but if I found a way home before we reached Erebor I had to take it. I felt a pang in my chest at the idea of leaving Bilbo.

Bilbo always found a way to make me smile and I loved him for it. In a million years I never could have dreamed of this opportunity. To spend time with characters from one of my favorite book series and to actually befriend some of them, it was a dream come true for any booklover.

Oblivious to my inner turmoil, the elf studied the scrap of paper I'd given him. "Travel between worlds is an unusual subject. I must warn you, that humans rarely travel to Valinor in anything but spirit."

"I'm not trying to get to Valinor." I said impatient to get to work.

What good would that do me? It's not like Valinor is my home.

"I fear the books I have given you are all the library has on world travel such as you speak of." The librarian pursed his lips in thought. "You might consider visiting Lord Saruman. Wizards have more knowledge of certain spells."

Visit Saruman? Hell no! I thanked the librarian and moved over to the table I'd chosen, placing my books alongside a thick stack of parchment.

The first book I selected had a red dyed leather cover, the gilt lettering cracked with age and barely visible.

A cloud of dust erupted from the tome I opened causing me to sneeze. Scrubbing my fingers on my skirt I carefully placed my hands on the edge of the brittle page. My inner historian screamed at me about the oil on my hands damaging the pages. I wished I had cotton gloves to handle this antique properly.

Smiling to myself, I closed my eyes and inhaled the familiar, comforting scent of old parchment and ink. It felt good to be doing something normal for once. How often had I haunted the college library at odd hours working on my dissertation? Or preparing lectures for my classes? The library was my haven, my hallowed hall of peace and tranquility.

I spent the next several hours combing the pages carefully for any crumb of information that might relate to my problem. The librarian drifted around the main floor, shelving books, or dusting them.

Elves drifted in and out all day, grabbing this book or that book. No one bothered me while I worked.

By the time the sun set, my fingers were cramped from hours of writing. I had fifteen pages of notes front and back and no concrete answers. Most of the information seemed to detail accounts of elves who had vanished for a period of time before returning with tales of strange worlds.

None of the worlds mentioned resembled Earth at any period in its vast history. You would think at least one of the travelers would have fallen into my world. I tapped my pen against the table and sighed. The structure of each account was written in an almost poetic form, making me dubious about the authenticity of the stories. They might just be myths or tales written for entertainment. Yet I hesitated to discount them completely when a grain of truth could be embedded in their words.