Looking at Thorin, I felt the cold dread of my dream possess me with a determination I had never before known. I didn't have the luxury in Bard's home of brewing tea and reading the leaves as Mother and Granny Took had taught me as a fauntling. If what my dreams showed me would come to pass, the line of Durin would not survive another season.

I slowly brought myself to a sitting position in the bed, making sure that I made no sudden movements to awake my husband. My feet settled on the cold, damp wooden boards that creaked as I slinked across the room. As Hobbits go, I am as silent as they come, but Bard's small cottage had suffered too many years of dank and damp upon the lake to keep quiet. The boards groaned with every step I took and I glanced over my shoulder, fingers crossed as I cast my eyes upon Thorin. Snuggled peacefully in bead, he moved only to grab a pillow that I had positioned in my stead.

I heard the door click as I shut it behind me, heading to where I knew Oin slept. The light of the moon shown through the windows and I didn't need candlelight to guide me. His particular snores were unlike the others in the Company and I knew where to find him. Kneeling beside him on the floor where he slept, I laid a gentle hand upon his shoulder and gave it a quiet shake.

"Oin," I whispered, hoping I wouldn't wake the others. "Oin, wake up."

I heard a grumbling in Khuzdul and a few grunts as his eyes fluttered open. I watched him squint at me for a few seconds before they popped wide with surprise, "Milady Durin, is all well?"

"I don't think so, Oin," I said, the dread riding my back with every thought. "I need your help."

With that, Oin suddenly sat up. I that he reminded me of a grizzled lion with his hair standing out every which way. "How can I help you?"

"I've had a dream," I started, not sure of what I might say next. "I know you read runes and interpret the stars and I need your guidance."

"Of course, lass, anything I can do," he quickly assured me, patting my shoulder. "Your dreams are coming on stronger, now that we're nearing the mountain?"

"Yes," my eyes narrowed, not quite understanding. "I don't understand."

"Come, Milady," he threw back his covers and reached for his pack where he carried his rune stones. "Follow me."

He led his way to the back portion of the cottage around an alcove in the kitchen. I watched Oin brush back a frazzled gray strand that crossed his brows. He settled down to the floor as he loosened the drawstrings of his rune pouch. He cast the runes and I watched them scatter like a game of children's marbles. He looked at them, each in kind, holding them up to the moonlight as he studied them. "Hmmm,"

"What is 'hmm,' Oin?" I asked, worry heavy in my voice.

"The magic of the mountain gives your Sight strength as we near her," he explained.

"Near who?"

"The Mountain, lass," Oin chuckled. "She is alive with magic and she calls to the women who are meant to be part of the Durin line. Your dream was I dire one and the runes support it. Have you told Thorin?"

"No," I shook my head. "I saw him dying in water or near it and it's cold and frozen. Azog does him in and throughout the dream, I felt the undercurrent in the river wasn't ice, but madness."

"Gold sickness," Oin replied, his face heavy and stoic. "It is the curse of the Durin line, Lass, and you think it will lead to our defeat. What can we do? Mahal's ways are mysterious and the Mountain exacts a strong price for our return."

"I don't give a Dragon's shat what that damnable mountain thinks," I hissed.

"I think she's calling to you," Oin winked. "Ye'd be wise to listen. She is not unkind and she takes care of her own. What idea came to you after her dream?"

"Throughout the dream, before the battle on the ice with Azog, Thorin suffered from the gold sickness," I blinked back the tears of my king turned tyrant in my dream. "When we were in the dungeons in Mirkwood, Thorin told me about his mother, Dross-"

"The Trickster of Mirkwood?" Oin smirked. "He must truly love you if he told you about his mother's line. A wily line of wise women if any there were anything; from the loins of Radagast if the legends be true."

"Exactly," I eagerly answered. "I remember Thorin said that Dross kept away Thrain's gold sickness. If what I understand, she was a master of potions, ointments and tinctures. It doesn't sound like witchcraft to me."

"She was not a witch, though many Dwarrows thought otherwise," Oin scooped up the runes then gave them another toss. "My people are a stubborn, superstitious lot and thought her an enchantress holding our King in her clutches. In fact, I'd never seen two people love each other more until I saw you and Thorin.'

"He said that you had some of her recipes," I began. "I figured perhaps it was a mixture or elixir or some sort that she gave him that kept the gold sickness at bay. In my dream, what I remember of it anyway, Oin, that is what starts all of this despair."

"You're not far off," Oin nodded. "She understood the Spirit of the Mountain in ways only known to dwarrowdams and those chosen by the Spirit. However, m'dear, she never shared it with me. I know it's made with ingredients that come deep within Erebor, but beyond that, I know nothing."

"Is she in Ered Luin?" I asked. "I understand she sales her concoctions and is quite the merchant."

"I believe so," Oin told me, pointing to the runes gleaming silver in the moon's light. "Ah, you think the recipe my prevent the premonition you've had from coming true."

"I do," I said. "I can't let him go mad and I can't stand by and watch him die, Oin. I love Thorin with all my heart and I'm not warrior, but I will cheat Fate anyway I know how if it will save him."

"You are definitely a Durin," he gave me a smile. "Dross felt the very same way about Thrain."

"How do we reach her?" I asked.

"The others will have my head if they knew what I'm about to do, but it must come from you if the Mountain's magic is to work," Oin told me. "I'll teach you to call the ravens of Erebor. It was the first spell Queen Dross taught me when she took me as her apprentice. I shall teach it to you. It is simple enough to learn in an hour or two."

Fair reader, forgive me for not sharing the particulars with you. Dwarven magic reflects the mindset of its people: secretive and simple. I can tell you that Khuzdul is not an easy language to learn, to memorize the runes that need to be drawn, the pronunciation of the words and the cadence needed to properly say them. After three hours, a vulture and a bat later, I finally summoned one of the ravens of Erebor that still lived near the mountain. Scribbled on a piece of parchment was my introduction, Thorin's seal and an entreaty to my mother-in-law for her recipe for keeping the gold sickness at bay. I prayed to the Valor that she received it in time for the dream didn't reveal how much time remained until the events came to pass.

"You will make a strong wise woman one day," Oin's eyes twinkled. "With your quick mind, I think you'll be the hidden axe in Thorin's arsenal."

"We shall see, Oin, we shall see." I murmured as I watched the raven with the note tied to its ankle fly over the horizon. The first rays of the sun shone across the lake. I gave my new mentor my thanks and snuck back into the bed chamber, gently sinking into the mattress and snuggling into the strong embrace of the Dwarrow I loved my than than my own life.