"Hey you, don't tell me there's no hope at all. Together we stand, divided we fall."
Pink Floyd, Hey You
The silence in the room after the Elf closed the door was deafening. Miss Darrow remained seated on the edge of the bed, her knees together and her arms braced on the coverlet on either side of her. It was a tense and challenging stance as she stared him down, waiting for him to speak.
"Consorting with the enemy now, I see," Thorin observed, still standing near the door on the other side of the room.
"Not all of us can be as delightfully prejudicial as you," she retorted instantly, relaxing ever so slightly as the words left her mouth – she was clearly more comfortable in verbal sword-play where she could hold her own against him rather than facing his silent disapproval. "Have you calmed down?" she asked pointedly, reminding him of his harsh interrogation earlier. "I have no desire to be shoved against any more walls by you."
"Should the explanation you owe me prove to be satisfactory then I will apologise wholeheartedly for that," he said honestly, his brow lowered. "However, if I do deem you to be a traitor then not even the fact that you are a woman will save you from my sword."
"Well, that makes me feel so much better," she said with mild sarcasm that fairly grated on his nerves. "And just because you want an explanation doesn't mean I owe you one."
Thorin took a few slow steps forward, his hand unconsciously on the hilt of his old sword at his hip. "If you want to retain your place in my company then you will cease avoiding my questions. I have no hesitations in dissolving your contract here and now."
Some of the fight seemed to go out of her at that and she gnawed on her bottom lip, looking up at him through her eyelashes. "I'm not sure Gandalf wants me to tell you."
"I do not care what the Wizard wants," he replied steadily.
"You probably won't believe me," she hedged further
He was now standing right in front of where she was sitting on the bed, looming over her. "Try me."
She raised an eyebrow up at him, a slight challenge. "Alright – hell, it might actually make my job easier if you do know the truth and aren't rejecting my advice at every turn," she said, surprising him with her sudden acquiescence to talk. "You know I am from another world, but in my world all of this -" she gestured vaguely around her - "is fictional. The Quest for Erebor is like a … legend in my world, it's a famous story in a book."
Of all the things he had considered – and so far his theories had ranged from her being an orc spy to some kind of witchcraft that granted her foresight – the news that his quest was not only legendary, but also written down and recorded in another world was not something he was expecting.
"You … believe us to be fictional?" he asked, trying to get her highly unanticipated revelation straight in his head.
She rolled her eyes. "Well now I know you to be real – somehow, haven't quite got my head around that one yet," she said, echoing his own thoughts. "But yeah, in my world you are all fictional. Some of my favourite characters, actually," she added with a wry smile.
"And that is how you seem to have knowledge of the future," he inferred slowly, releasing his sword hilt and folding his arms as he stared down at her. "You believe yourself to be … living a legend."
She flicked a finger at him. "Bingo," she said nonsensically, though from her tone she appeared to be implying that he was correct.
"The trolls, the orcs, even Mr Baggins joining the company … it is all recounted in a book in your world, that's how you knew about them," he said, his eyes narrowed at her.
She nodded vigorously, her lips pressed together.
"Is there any way you can prove this?" he asked, more out of curiosity than actual doubt.
"Umm..." Miss Darrow thought for a moment, her head cocked to one side. Her face suddenly brightened and she pointed at his shoulder, where the hilt of his new sword was visible from its place across his back. "Your sword, it's called Orcrist, the Goblin-Cleaver. It was forged by the High Elves of the West," she rattled off quickly. "And Gandalf's is called Glamdring, the Foe-Hammer."
He blinked at her in surprise, she had not seen his new weapon up close so there was no way she could have seen the inscription on the blade: Orcrist was one of the words he had deciphered among the runes while cleaning it and he had assumed it was a foreign word, like the others, but it appeared that it was the swords name.
Her own sword, which she had failed to mention, had been tossed haphazardly onto the bed beside her open pack, though he noticed that she had taken the time to wipe some of the dust and cobwebs from it.
"Even if this book did detail such things, how would I confirm it?" he wanted to know.
"Take it to lunch, Elrond will tell you," she said confidently.
He nodded slowly, digesting everything she had said in silence. "Do we succeed?" he asked eventually. "In the legend you know, do we succeed?"
It was her turn to blink up at him. "Wait, you actually believe me?" she said, a note of incredulity in her voice.
"It is … a reasonable explanation and it fits the facts, though I still intend to apply to Lord Elrond to see if what you say about my sword is true," he said logically. "I had wondered how you knew so much of our affairs when we first met, but if you have knowledge of the future then I can understand why Gandalf recruited you as our advisor." He gave her the smallest of smiles. "It is certainly preferable to thinking you a spy or traitor."
"Oh," she said, still blinking up at him. "Well … good." She suddenly grinned at him. "Wow, that whole conversation felt a little anticlimactic, I thought you were going to bite my head off."
His confusion at her statement must have been obvious since she added, "It's an expression from my world, it means to tell someone off."
He nodded his understanding: after his earlier behaviour towards her she was right to think he might have reacted angrily – indeed, depending on her explanation, he'd had every intention of banishing her from the company. "I notice that you did not answer my previous question," Thorin said. "Do we succeed?"
"I don't want to give you any spoilers," she said with a smile that could only be described as mischievous. "You should never skip ahead to the end of a book, it ruins the story."
"Why are you here then, if not to tell us our fate?" he questioned.
She rolled her eyes again. "I wasn't bought here to be a fortune teller, Thorin," she said patronisingly. "I am meant to be changing things."
That revelation made his thoughts halt in their tracks. "Changing things?" he repeated, trepidation creeping up on him. "Meaning that events do not go entirely to plan in the story that you know?"
The sudden guilty look on her face told him that he had hit near the mark with this deduction, his sense of dread increasing. "What happens?"
Miss Darrow stood up from the bed and made for the door, stepping around him – his eyes darted briefly downwards as she stood: her dress had strange, asymmetrical seams that caused it to hug the curves of her slender body, the hem stopping just short of her knees. "You know, we should probably go and find the others," she said with determined airiness.
He grabbed her uninjured arm as she passed him. "What were you sent here to change?" he demanded, forcing himself to keep his gaze on her face.
She shook off his grip and continued towards the door – moving quickly, he reached it first and held it closed with one hand flat on the wood as she tugged fruitlessly on the handle. Despite their similarity in height, he found himself towering over her and she looked up at him. "They will probably be serving lunch soon," she said entreatingly, clearly wanting their conversation to be at an end.
"You are stalling, Miss Darrow," he said sternly, once again determined to get answers from her.
She tugged at the handle again, but to no avail. "Not going to let me out of this room until I tell you, huh?" she said resignedly.
"It seems we are beginning to understand one another," he said, confirming her words. "What did Gandalf send you here to change?"
She bit her full lower lip again, her teeth very white against the pink flesh. From his close proximity he noticed for the first time that her face was covered by a faint dusting of freckles, no doubt a result of riding in the May and June sunshine the past few weeks. "I'm not sure I should tell you," she said softly, one shoulder raised awkwardly.
"I deserve to know if any of my company is in danger, Miss Darrow," he said softly.
She looked down at her feet, avoiding his eyes.
"They are in danger," he breathed, his heart clenching in panic and sudden guilt – was he leading some of them, his closest friends and kin, to their deaths? "Who? What happens?"
"I shouldn't tell you," she whispered miserably, her eyes on his chest.
"Miss Darrow," he implored, more worried than he had ever been in his life; when she failed to respond he added with greater sternness, "Elizabeth."
Her gaze darted up to his. "I … alright, fine," she said, giving in. "No specifics – no hows or whens – oh God, I don't know if I should even be telling you this ..." she trailed off, covering her face with her hands.
Releasing the door, he tugged at her hands away from her face, holding her wrists in the air between them as he had done earlier that very morning. "Tell me," he quietly commanded and she sighed in resignation.
" … Fili and Kili are going to die," she said softly, her eyes wide and sad.
"What?" he said, the word an almost inaudible small puff of air from his lips.
"You reclaim the mountain and become king, but they will die," she repeated, sounding positively wretched.
Thorin released her and walked aimlessly away from the door to the middle of the room, thinking hard. His worse fears were confirmed, loosing his nephews would be the end of his world. He was like a father to both. When Fili had been born he had played the role of devoted uncle, looking after the lad and taking him to the forge to teach him the basics of the craft – he would not be a miner like his father, smithing was a more respectable profession for his heir. But when Dis's husband had died in a mining accident before Kili was even born he had taken a greater parental role, moving into his sisters home to help her in her time of need. He had witnessed Kili's first smile, steps and words and had only grown closer to Fili as his eldest nephew mourned the father he had barely known.
He couldn't loose them, not after the heartache of loosing Frerin so young. He wouldn't survive it.
"Thorin?" There was a tentative touch on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you," Miss Darrow said from close behind him, her voice soft and utterly free of its usual sarcastic lilt.
A decision made, he turned suddenly and headed to to door – Miss Darrow slipped in front of him, standing before the door. "What are you doing?"
"I'm sending them home," he said, staring at her as if he could move her away from the door with his eyes alone. "I was hesitant to allow them on this quest in the first place, but knowing this -"
"You can't!" she said, surprising him with her arms spread slightly in front of the door.
"I can and I will," he said determinedly – it was his hand on the handle now and her barring his way. "Step aside."
She shook her head, in something of a panic. "No, I won't let you."
"Step aside Miss Darrow, or I shall move you out of the way myself," he threatened, his face close to hers.
"If you want to succeed then they stay in the company," she said, raising her chin and refusing to move.
"My nephews are like sons to me, I love them more than anything else in the world," the growled, leaning over her. "If you think that I would sacrifice them to reclaim my kingdom -"
"You don't!" she interrupted. "You don't sacrifice them Thorin. Just listen to me for a moment, will you?
Summoning patience with great difficulty, he released the door handle and folded his arms before her. She took a deep breath. "You need them if you want to succeed and that's why you need me – Gandalf sent me here to save them."
"And you think you can?" he asked, looking at her with his chin tilted down and his brows lowered.
She bit her lip once more. "I think I can try."
"Do they know?" he questioned. "They knew your secret, do they know – this?" he said, unable to even finish the sentence.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "They don't know anything about the story, only that I know what will happen on the quest."
"If you told me how they -"
"No," she interrupted again. "No, you shouldn't know anything about the future – do you know how dangerous it is, you knowing? Jesus, I've watched enough Doctor Who to know that this could potentially go all kinds of screwy."
He blinked in confusion at her nonsensical words, but she hadn't finished. "I've probably told you too much already, I could change the entire story."
"What does that matter?" he demanded. "So a story in another world changes, at least they will be safe. In fact, I have half a mind to turn this entire company around and return to Ered Luin."
This was true: for the first time he was truly doubting his mission. His people had a comfortable life in Ered Luin, a life that was well on it's way to prosperity. He could leave the hallowed riches and grandeur of their former kingdom in the past and instead direct his energies in creating a better future for the his people in their new home. Over time his halls in Ered Luin would become a new Erebor – he may not live to see its glory peak, but he could establish its beginning.
"No, you don't get it – it's important in this world," Miss Darrow said, gesturing with her hands in clear agitation. "Look, your quest is legendary for a reason, there are certain things that happen that have a huge knock on effect on history – if you don't continue then the entire fate of Middle Earth changes. This is so much more than just Fili and Kili."
He glared at her, his voice a low growl. "There is nothing more than them, not to me."
"Then let me save them, let me do what I was bought here to do," she entreated.
Thorin turned away from her, pacing the space between the door and her bed. While he could establish a new beginning for his people, to do so would only be a bandage on a wound that festered beneath its cover. His heart yearned for their true home, the home his people deserved – and if there was a way he could indeed give it to them without putting his nephews at risk …
"You do succeed, Thorin," she said, echoing his thoughts. "You reclaim your lost kingdom and gold, and the Dwarves have a new age of prosperity … So let me worry about Fili and Kili."
He ceased his pacing to look at her, still standing in front of the door but no longer barring it closed with her body. Her grey eyes were huge and beseeching, yet he sensed that she was still hiding something, that she hadn't told him everything she knew about their quest.
"Thorin?" she said, and he realised he had been staring at her in silence.
He sighed and sat down heavily on the edge of her bed. "Do you truly believe you can save them?"
"I hope so," she said softly, and cautiously came over to sit down next to him on the coverlet. "I'll just knock them both over the head right before they run headlong into danger."
He gave a small, sad smile at that – while he appreciated her effort to lighten the mood, he couldn't help but wonder if she had spoken thus because his nephews met their end through their own recklessness.
"And if you fail?" he heard himself ask, turning his head to meet her eyes.
Her lips parted to speak, but a knock sounded at the door. "Come in," she said instead, turning to the doorway.
The door opened to reveal the same Elf who had left the room several minutes previously. He saw Thorin sitting close with her on the bed and his fine brows lifted minutely. "Forgive the intrusion, Lord Elrond requested that I escort you to lunch, my lady."
"She does not need an escort," Thorin growled at the Elf, annoyed at his presumption: from the way the Elf had been talking to Miss Darrow earlier, he doubted that escorting her was all he had in mind. "Tell Lord Elrond we will be there presently."
"Very well," the Elf said mildly, pointedly leaving the door wide open as he left.
There was a long silence in the room. "Shall we?" she said eventually, getting to her feet and looking down at him. He noticed for the first time that her small feet were bare and she didn't seem to have any intention of putting on the delicate, lace-up slippers that the elves had left out for her.
Wordlessly, he rose also. She made for the door but he stopped her by clearing his throat. "Aren't you forgetting something, Miss Darrow?" he said, holding the sheathed sword he had collected from the bed out to her
"I hardly think I am going to need that here," she said, her sarcastic tone returning.
He continued to hold it out. She rolled her eyes and took it from him, electing to hold it instead of attempting to attach it to her dress, and the two of them headed from the room.
Lizzy walked barefoot beside Thorin as they left her temporary bedroom, occasionally giving him sidelong glances. Their conversation had not been what she was expecting at all – she had thought she would have to deal with more anger from him, as well as disbelief in her story, but surprisingly he had accepted her word at face value, barely batting an eyelid at her fantastical tale until she had mentioned changing things.
Now his face was grim, no doubt brooding on what she had told him.
After a few minutes of walking the labyrinthine corridors in silence it became apparent that neither of them knew where they were going – subsequently, they had to ask for directions, to Thorin's scowling displeasure, and were the last to arrive on the balcony where the rest of the company was already assembled, smelling distinctly fresher than when she had last seen them. Thorin's gaze went instantly to where Fili and Kili were sitting, as if to reassure himself that no harm had befallen them while he had been gone.
Lizzy was surprised to find that a place had been set for her at Elrond's table, smiling absently at Lindir as he pulled out a chair for her. She took her seat and propped her sword awkwardly against the table. Thorin instantly handed his own sword to Elrond, ignoring the fact that the Elf was eating.
"Can you tell us anything of these weapons?" he demanded, taking his own seat.
"Is the dinner table really an appropriate place, Thorin?" Gandalf said disapprovingly, but Elrond simply lowered his knife and fork without complaint and examined the blade, starting with its sheath.
"Born from the maw of dragons, I am always hungry and thirsty," he read on the sheath, his fingers tracing over runes. He partially drew the sword, looking at the blade itself. "This is Orcrist, the Goblin-Cleaver. Forged by the High Elves of the West, my kin." He handed it back to Thorin, who took it with a gracious nod. "A famous blade, may it serve you well."
Thorin met her eyes over the table and she smiled at him, knowing her words had been confirmed.
Despite his previous protests, Gandalf passed over his sword to Elrond as well. "And this is Glamdring, the Foe-Hammer, the sword of King Turgon of Gondolin. These swords were forged for the Goblin wars of the first age, they have been thought to be lost for many hundreds of years."
Lord Elrond gave her an expectant look. "May I?" he said, his hand outstretched towards her.
"Hmm?" she said questioningly around a mouthful of salad – fresh vegetables were delicious after weeks living of gradually going-off fare.
"Your sword," Thorin prompted.
"Oh," she said, picking it up from where it rested beside her and handing it over.
The Elf's eyes brightened as he examined the sword. "Mine is the final sleep under stars, the cold bite of death," he translated from the runes on the blade. "Well do I remember this sword, it was taken at the sacking of Sirion. Crafted at the same time as the other two as a gift for King Turgon's daughter, Idril, though it has never seen battle. She was the mother of Earendil, my father," he said, handing it back to her.
"Does it have a name?" Lizzy asked curiously.
"Naethring, the cold bite," Elrond said. "The three blades are a matched set, forged together. How did you come by them?" he asked, intrigued.
"We found them in a troll-hoard on the Great East Road, shortly before we were ambushed by orcs," Gandalf told him.
"And what were you doing on the Great East Road?"
"It is still the safest path to travel between Ered Luin and the Misty Mountains, is it not?" Thorin put to him, apparently not liking the Elf's tone.
"Perhaps no longer if you were attacked on the road," Elrond pointed out, and the conversation drifted into the state of various roads and the frequency of attacks.
Lizzy remained silent as the three men talked, one hand running over the hilt of the blade in her lap. Naethring, the cold bite of death. She looked at Thorin – she hadn't said a word to him about what she knew of his own death after he fell prey to the gold sickness. She thought she might be able to save Fili and Kili: with Thorin just as eager to protect them she would get him to forbid them to fight in the Battle of the Five Armies and then they would be safe, but was there any way she could save him too?
Fili sat quietly with the company, his gaze fixed on the other table as he watched the conversation. Lizzy had walked in beside Thorin wearing a dress that would be considered frankly disgraceful in their culture, her legs bare above the knee and her hair down around her shoulders. It was probably good that Dori was busy scolding Ori into eating and hadn't noticed her clothes: he would not have put it passed the older Dwarf to go and cover her with his cloak for modesty, which he knew Lizzy would have hated and protested vehemently against.
She and Thorin must have has a reconciliation of some sort despite the fact he had left the bath-house with thunderclouds around his head. Interestingly, as they approached the table Fili had seen the same Elf that greeted them politely hold out Lizzy's chair and Thorin clench his fists in response.
It had been strange and highly disturbing seeing him threatening her. As they had told Lizzy a few weeks ago, women were protected and respected in their culture. Then again, they had never stopped to consider what Thorin would make of Lizzy and her unusual knowledge: in hindsight she hadn't been particularly careful, practically flaunting it when she advised them to make their bets.
The two of them shared a long, lingering look over the table, with Lizzy smiling slightly as Thorin was handed back his sword from the Elf Lord. As the conversation continued he noticed Lizzy gazing speculatively at his uncle, her head tilted to one side – Fili suppressed a sigh, wondering if he would shortly be forced to pay Kili his ten gold.
Thorin rose from his seat the moment the meal and boring small talk was finished, unconsciously extending a hand to help Miss Darrow to her feet also. She simply stared at his hand with a slightly surprised expression and he tilted his head pointedly towards the stairs down to the gardens at the far end of the balcony. She briefly accepted his hand and rose, following him as they left the others.
"We're not joining the rest of the company?" she asked as they descended the stairs.
"No, there are a few more things I wish to discuss with you," he told her. He was honestly surprised that he had managed to get through lunch and actually make civil conversation with his head still swirling from her revelation.
"You didn't ask about the map," she observed as they reached the gardens. Mindful of her bare feet, they took a meandering route across the grass instead of sticking to the gravel paths.
"Can you not just tell me what it says?" he queried, watching out of the corner of his eye as she tilted her face back to bask in the June sunshine while they walked. He wondered how she could appear so carefree despite the weight of responsibility on her shoulders, eventually attributing it to their tranquil surroundings. She seemed at home here, far more so than any of the others in the company. He had noticed a similar serenity in Mr Baggins while they had been in the bath-house, whereas he found himself constantly on edge around the stink of Elf.
She shook her head. "I don't remember the exact wording and those sorts of things are kind of important."
He inclined his head, accepting her words. "Very well, I will ask later," he said, hiding his disappointment – after she had mentioned the map he found himself hoping she could decipher it and he would not be forced to ask the Elves for further aid.
"What day is it today?" she asked suddenly.
"The twenty-first of June."
"So Midsummer's Eve?"
"Yes."
She nodded. "Make sure you ask tonight, that's important too."
He glanced at her but didn't comment: no doubt he would understand the meaning of her words when he asked Lord Elrond about the map later.
They reached a small, shady grove of trees and Thorin stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Miss Darrow, regarding what you said earlier about my nephews ..."
He trailed off, noticing her distraction: her wide eyes were fixed at something over his shoulder, her lips parted in surprise. Turning to follow her gaze, he saw a very tall and fair Elf woman approaching them silently, clad in white. Her hair shone like the purest gold in the dappled sunlight that filtered down through the trees and her eyes were deep pools of blue that seemed to sear right down into his soul.
"Lady Galadriel," Miss Darrow murmured in quiet awe.
The Elf smiled softy at her and turned her piercing gaze to Thorin. "Pardon the intrusion, I wish a word with your companion."
Sorry, another (sort of) cliffhanger, but not as bad as the last one ...
I thought it was really interesting how divided everyone was over the dragon/balrog question – reviews were pretty much split down the middle either way!
So, what did you think of this chapter? Some Fili pov snuck in there at the end, which wasn't planned, and I'm curious to know what you think of her sword - coming up with a name took a while!
So please leave a review, I love hearing from you guys!
And if you do review answer me this too … favourite quote from Tolkien (books or films)?
You can follow any updates, sneak peeks and ask any questions you like about the story or characters on my tumblr ~Kindle-the-Stars