Hello, sorry for the delay! School and work are kicking my butt! But I am hoping to have another update by this weekend, so you shouldn't have to wait quite as long for the next installment.

Thanks for the continual support! You all make my day!

Warning: This chapter contains the use of a foul bit of language. Just letting you know up front!

Chapter Ten: What Dreams May Come

The next day was worse for the company than all the days since their arrival in Mirkwood combined. The path was just as dreary and seemingly unending on this side of the stream, the trees just as crowded and the shadows beneath the eaves just as long and menacing to their eyes. They were terribly hungry and the food was running low, which made for a depressingly slim breakfast. They were thirsty, and only reminded of their thirst by the dreadful stream that lay behind them, gurgling mockingly. And what was worse, they had to split into alternating teams of four to carry Bombur's still unconscious form between them, while the fat dwarf snoozed on, a blissful smile spread over his lips. This made for grueling work, and the dwarves were none too pleased about it, huffing and cursing under their breath.

Airemis informed them all that they were, in fact, nearing the eastern edge of the wood, but the company remained mostly dour and uninspired. They couldn't detect the subtle change in the colors of the forest, the way the leaves shifted from nearly black to deep green, how the trees were less clogged with thick ivy and the brambles had begun to retreat from the edges of the path.

The air had lost some of the scent of root rot and decay, and Airemis could feel magic in the air. It was very faint, but she recognized the sweet tang of the elves' enchantments. It was the same charm that surrounded Rivendell and Lothlorien; a ward against evil, a repellant to foul creatures that might think to enter the elves' territory. It was powerful magic and it should have made her feel more at ease. After all, the closer they traveled to Thranduil's woodland palace, the safer they would be from the dark things that lurked in the forest. But all she felt was a growing dread.

Her last visit with the Greenwood elves had ended suddenly and rather poorly. She had left far earlier than she had planned, and even if she hadn't, Airemis felt certain she would have been forcibly removed. She had really only visited to read up on the history of her race, poring over ancient tomes and scrolls of parchment. Rivendell had the largest and most well maintained archives, of course, but Thranduil kept a rather bountiful collection as well.

She had meant only to learn more about her elven heritage and to see if she might be able to attain an idea of what her future would hold in store. She had not been exaggerating when she told Thorin that she was the only one of her kind, and, naturally, she had always been curious about what to expect out of her life.

Airemis had never meant to draw attention; she had kept mostly to herself and only bothered to leave the archives when she was too hungry or sleepy to read on. She certainly had never meant to draw the king of Greenwood's attention. She had tried to ignore the way his eyes would follow her as she left a room, or how he would often pop up from nowhere when she was alone in a corridor. He would always engage her in conversation (he was very interested in hobbits and the Shire and most particularly in her own strange heritage) and she couldn't help her own exuberance as she spoke about her beloved cousin, Bilbo, and their times together.

Thranduil had been an attentive listener, not to mention that he was something of an historian. He answered many of Airemis's questions and showed her his collection of treasures and memorabilia from all over Middle Earth, explaining the significance of each or how he had come to own them. He had told her of the wars that had ravaged the world in every age, of the infamous dark days in which Sauron had reigned dark and supreme over Mordor, and of the attack on Erebor by the dragon. She had soaked it all up, asking question after question, though she had already known much of what he spoke about from childhood stories. Still, her father had been a simple hobbit and had not known much beyond basic details about war or the evil that had once been.

Slowly, Airemis had started to enjoy Thranduil's company, in a way. She still felt that he was arrogant and that he devoted too much pride to his collection of rarities, but she had stopped avoiding his stares and had begun to think of him as a mentor, of sorts. And then…the incident had occurred.

That's how Airemis thought of it, an incident, and a most unfortunate one at that. An incident that changed everything. Sometimes she wondered if she had reacted poorly, if perhaps, she could have been more…diplomatic, and somehow salvaged the strange friendship that had been kindled between herself and Thranduil. But she had been shocked. Repulsed. And she had reacted the only way she could in that moment, and in so doing, she had greatly offended the king. She had left without a word of goodbye—another insult—and had not returned since.

Airemis had never spoken to anyone about what had happened, not even Bilbo. She didn't like thinking about it and often cast her memories of her time in Greenwood to the back of her consciousness. It was embarrassing and she always felt disturbed and oddly guilty when she reminisced about the events that had transpired eight years ago. And now that she was back in the forest, so very close to the elven kingdom, it was becoming harder to keep her mind from such unpleasant memories.

She cast a surreptitious look toward Thorin and couldn't help but wonder how he would react if she were to tell him of her time in Greenwood. Would he be angry? Amused? Indifferent? She didn't know; he was unpredictable when it came to his emotions, though she leaned more toward anger. He had a foul temper, she had noticed, especially in anything concerning elves. She could have told him last night, but she had been afraid that such a tale would inspire yet more animosity and she had only just begun to earn his respect.

"What thoughts could possibly inspire such a strange look upon your face?" Bilbo asked.

"It's nothing," Airemis said, waving him off and plastering on a smile. "I was just thinking about the last time I was in these woods."

Bilbo nodded. "When you visited the elves? I remember that. You came to my house and told me about all of the stories—most of them dreadful, mind—that you read or heard tale of. But I recall that you seemed most disturbed about something. A none-too-pleasant experience, you called it. I take it you wouldn't fancy stopping in for a chat?"

"I'd rather carry Bombur piggyback through the mountains," Airemis said.

"Oh, and I'd let you," Bofur said, coming up from behind them. He was holding the small of his back and wincing. He had just been relieved from carrying the obese dwarf by Oin, and he was covered in a thick sheen of sweat and sounded as winded as if he had been running for miles. "Though I'd suggest a brace, or you'll be wishing for a new spine when all's done and said."

Bilbo looked back at the four dwarves currently heaving Bombur down the path and grimaced. "Still no sign of waking, I suppose?"

"Not unless flatulence counts," Bofur said. "I'll never volunteer to carry him from the foot-end again."

Airemis laughed. "I've heard him break wind in his sleep enough to know that shouldn't be taken for a sign of his impending return to consciousness."

Bilbo pulled a disgusted face. "This is hardly a polite line of conversation."

"You're right," Bofur said apologetically. "Perhaps we can discuss how you're going to help us defeat the dragon, Bilbo."

The hobbit turned a little pale at this and darted his eyes about uncomfortably. Airemis shot Bofur a sly smile and said, "You're right. We should all like to know, Bilbo, how you plan on sneaking passed Smaug."

Some of the other dwarves had turned their attention toward Airemis, Bilbo and Bofur, looking amused or curious. Fili and Kili, who were currently carrying Bombur by the arms, managed to share a mischievous wink over their load.

Bilbo sputtered, "I hardly think…that is to say…with circumstances as they are…when the time comes…is this really the place to be making rash decisions about something so important? And why should the planning come down to me?"

"Well, you are the burglar, are you not?" Bofur asked, his face a mask of innocence. Some of the dwarves chuckled and Bilbo looked more flustered than ever.

Airemis patted the hobbit on the shoulder and said, "No worries, cousin. We'll figure it out. I doubt Thorin would throw you to the beast without a plan." She looked up at the leader of their group and he met her eyes, though there was nothing particularly welcoming in his expression. Thorin looked carefully neutral, betraying no emotion, which was better than him glaring at her. Still, Airemis had hoped that the levity of the moment would have penetrated his tough veneer enough to inspire, maybe not a smile or teasing comment, but something. Some sign that he appreciated having his mind removed from the gloom of their current trek through this hated forest. But Thorin merely turned back to the path and continued on without speaking.

The other dwarves took this as a cue to resume their own silent marching, though the atmosphere amongst the group didn't seem quite so despairing any longer. At least, no one was murmuring mutinously beneath their breath or glaring daggers at the tree trunks.

Airemis gave Bilbo a reassuring smile and when it looked like his constitution had not suffered too much damage from the teasing, she let her thoughts wander again. This time, however, they focused not on her own past experiences, but on Thorin's.

She watched as he walked at the head of the group, her eyes taking in the straight, hard lines of his body as he moved. She had never thought to attribute such words as graceful or majestic to a dwarf, there was something too rough and wild about their race for such terms, and yet, that was exactly the way in which she would describe Thorin. He moved with purpose and power, and his strength of body and his fortitude of will were evident in each step, in each swing of his arms. He carried himself with such confidence and resolve, and a fair amount of menace. Airemis could see the way he scanned his eyes through the woods, sharp and in anticipation of attack. Though she couldn't imagine anything stupid enough to want to attack him when he had such a look on his face!

Airemis had to wonder about the many trials and tribulations in Thorin's life. Things had not been easy for him. She figured if she had lived to see her home lost, her people scattered, her grandfather beheaded by a hideous pale orc, her father driven insane with grief, and then been forced by necessity to lower herself to working menial jobs in human villages for little pay and even less respect, that she'd feel bitter too. And yet, despite the grudges he held, there was something in Thorin that had kept him holding on, that had driven him to build a life for his kin in the Blue Mountians, that had brought him to Bilbo's hobbit hole and onto a quest to reclaim his true home.

Courage, leadership, strength, ambition, integrity. Airemis saw all of these things in him. And she hadn't been lying when she told him that she admired him. There were many layers to Thorin Oakenshield, and though many were not entirely pleasant, she thought that she would like to see them all.

It truly seemed that the forest would never end.

Thorin, who was anything but a patient dwarf, was beginning to feel his frustration bubble over inside of him. His feet were aching, his back felt stiff and his arms were quivering from having to take a turn carrying Bombur. His stomach was growling angrily and his tongue felt dry as sand. The woods seemed to close in on them from all directions, which only fed his ire. His body seemed to be running on pure aggravation rather than energy. It was, all in all, a dangerous situation for anyone who dared approach him, for he felt as tightly strung as a bow, and as likely to fire off on whichever unlucky soul happened to cross him.

This was his mood when he called the company to a sudden halt, about an hour before sunset. Ori, Nori, Dori and Dwalin all droped Bombur onto the ground and groaned with the relief of losing their burden.

"Hobbit," he barked, snapping his fingers to get Bilbo's attention.

The halfling looked surprised to be addressed by him, but approached nonetheless. "Yes?" he asked, a bit warily.

Thorin pointed at the closest tree and said, "Climb up and see if you can detect an end to this forest."He could feel Airemis's glare at his gruff treatment of her cousin, but she was wise enough not to voice any complaint.

Bilbo gulped and looked ready to make an argument himself, but one withering look from Thorin was enough to make the hobbit reconsider. Bilbo picked a tree and began to climb, though it was slow-going at first since the limbs were thick and spread far apart on the trunk. But eventually the hobbit was able to pull himself through the leaves and all but disappeared from their view.

"Have you reached the top?" Thorin yelled.

"Yes!"

"What see you?"

All of the dwarves and Airemis had huddled at the base of the tree, staring up expectantly, hopefully.

"Just trees," Bilbo called down to them. "The forest goes on forever and ever in all directions!"

The dwarves all groaned at this and Thorin called Bilbo back down. The hobbit took longer climbing down, unsure of his footing and blinking as his eyes readjusted to the dimness. Thorin, tired of waiting, finally reached up and grabbed Bilbo by the back of his shirt and hoisted him down. Then he rounded on Airemis. She backed up a step, clearly startled by his intensity.

"I thought you said we were nearing the edge of the forest?" he demanded.

She straightened her spine and met his gaze without flinching at his tone. "We are, but there will still be several days left to go before we find the path's end."

"You have traveled this road before, lass?" Dwalin asked.

Airemis shook her head. "I have never taken this path before. Though I know enough of the forest to tell you with certainty that the miles left between us and freedom from these trees and shadows are numbering far fewer."

"Then we shall all take comfort in your knowledge," Thorin said acerbically, dropping his pack on the ground. Airemis shot him an affronted look, but he was too tired and miserable to take care. "We will make camp here tonight. Bofur, divide up some dinner for everyone." Thorin turned and started to walk up the path, away from the others.

"Where are you going?" Bofur asked.

"To sort out my thoughts," Thorin said, and then, when it looked like Fili and Kili might follow, he added, "Alone."

He ignored the inquiring looks being sent his way and continued down the path, letting the darkness swallow him from view. He didn't go far, maybe forty meters in all, but the path curved a bit through the trees and soon he heard only the faint chatter of the group behind him. Satisfied to have a bit of privacy, Thorin settled onto the ground, resting his weary body against the trunk of a tree and letting his eyelids flutter closed for a moment.

He had slept little the night before, his mind too occupied with thoughts of Erebor and Smaug and their proximity to the wood elves, and from the moment he woke that morning had felt an all-consuming agitation. It was not the sort of crankiness that comes from too little sleep and long days trekking through monotonous woods. No, this boiling restlessness was a culmination of his desire to leave Mirkwood, his overexposure to the obnoxious group of his kin, his anticipation to see his long lost home, his uncertainty about how to handle the dragon, and his unease at being so close to those that had betrayed his grandfather sixty years ago.

Thorin felt a mental and physical exhaustion that he had never known before. For the first time in his life he felt old, as if all of his years had suddenly come to rest like stones upon his shoulders. For so long his determination and resolve had been enough to stave off the creep of age that had whitened Balin's beard, had carved long lines in Oin's cheeks, had stripped the hair completely from Dwalin's scalp. But he felt it now.

He opened his eyes and stared up at the dark canopy of leaves. There was no way to see beyond them to the sky overhead, but he could imagine the pinks and golds that would be streaked behind the clouds as the sun started its descent into the west. He had always liked sunset best, when the sky would glow with those last few rays of light, the day's last stand to the night, and then the stars would start to twinkle into view, looking very much like diamond dust spread over dark velvet.

He hated the nights here. There were no sunsets, only the ever-growing shadows. There were no stars, only the hundreds of staring eyes in the forest. It was, Thorin thought, very much like a prison here in Mirkwood. Caged in by the trees with little light, no fresh air, and only the company of foul, miserable creatures.

There were footsteps approaching him from the direction of the company. Thorin sat up and shot an annoyed look at the dark outline that was drawing nearer, though he couldn't quite make out who it was. He opened his mouth to tell the fool off, to order them back to the others and stop intruding, but the person spoke to him first.

"I come bearing the gift of food," Airemis said. "No matter how bad a mood you're in, I know you must be hungry." She came to a stop in front of him and held something out to him.

Thorin took the small offering of stale cake with its dollop of sweet cream. "Thank you," he said, a bit gruffly.

"You're welcome," she said and turned to leave him.

Thorin, though he had intentionally sought out solitude, suddenly found himself reaching out his hand and taking hold of her arm. She halted and cast him a curious look. He dropped his hold, but said, "Stay."

Airemis seemed a bit perplexed by his request—demand, more like—but she obliged by taking a seat on the path in front of him. She fidgeted for a moment, looking unsure. "I thought you had wanted to be alone?"

"I did."

"And now you do not?"

"I do not mind your company," he said, a little shocked by the truth of that simple statement. No, he did not mind her company. In fact, it was quickly becoming the opposite. Though she was stubborn and reckless and defiant, he liked being around her. There was something calming about her presence. She made him feel hopeful, youthful. As if he really could defeat a dragon and reclaim his lost home.

"That's good," she said, "because you're stuck with me, I'm afraid. You would not rather eat with the others?"

"No," Thorin said. "I think it best if I give myself some space from them, lest I take to beheading them all."

"That would be rather unpleasant."

Thorin bit into his cake. It was a meager meal, hardly enough to count as a snack. But the food was running too low to do much better. He went to take a bite and then noticed that Airemis had not brought anything for herself. "Have you eaten already?"

She shook her head. "I'm not hungry."

He frowned at this. He couldn't remember her eating anything for breakfast that morning either. And at lunch she had taken only the smallest amount of honeyed bread. Of course, he knew that she did not possess an appetite as large as a dwarf (or a hobbit, for that matter), but it occurred to him that she might be denying herself meals so that everyone else had more to eat. It was a foolish thing to do, starving herself so everyone else might have a bite more for dinner. And yet, he couldn't help but be a little awed by such sacrifice.

Dwarves were not often known for being unselfish, or for thinking more about others than of themselves. In fact, most thought that dwarves were so ruled by their greed that they could neither understand nor appreciate generosity. This was a terrible misconception, of course. Thorin had known many honorable dwarves who had made great sacrifices for the good of their people. Though, it was true that many dwarves were influenced greatly by their more avaricious impulses, they still recognized and cherished the good deeds that others did for them.

And Thorin could definitely appreciate the fact that Airemis was willing to let her own stomach remain empty to ensure someone else's might be full. Still, now that he knew, or at least suspected, what she was doing, he couldn't let it continue. Thorin tore off a hunk of his cake and thrust it toward her.

Airemis startled at the sudden gesture. She looked from his eyes to his outstretched hand and shook her head. "No, that's the only supper you're going to get tonight."

"I won't allow you to starve," Thorin said. "At least not any more than the rest of us. Eat."

His tone would brook no argument, and Airemis didn't make one. She tentatively took the bit of cake he offered and said, "Thanks," before biting into it. Thorin returned to his own even more pitiful meal, finishing it off in a couple of bites.

He watched her then, in the growing darkness under the trees, as she chewed her food slowly, methodically. She wasn't looking at him. Her gaze was fixed to the ground, watching the circles she was spinning in the dirt with her fingertips. He wondered then what she was thinking about, and then he wondered why he would wonder such a thing.

"You are not what I had expected," Thorin said. She did meet his eyes then, and she looked confused and apprehensive, as if she worried she had somehow disappointed him. "You are not the arrogant, cold-hearted elf I had assumed you to be. Instead you are giving, kind, warm, an enigma, if I ever saw one. You rush into dangerous situations with no heed to your own life. You stick up for those you feel are unfairly targeted. You are not afraid to fight for the things in which you care about. You are not at all who I had thought you to be. In fact, you baffle me."

Airemis swallowed, and, though it was too dark to tell, Thorin thought she might be blushing. "It is kind of you to say such things."

"I'm not saying it out of kindness," he said. "I am rarely ever surprised by people. Your cousin, Bilbo, is one striking exception. And you, of course. It is frustrating to have you challenge me so."

Airemis laughed then. "Me challenge you? No, I believe it is the other way around! Your pigheaded willfulness has been a great trial to my patience, sir." Her voice was teasing, and Thorin couldn't stop the little thrill that went through him when she called him sir.

"So that is how you see me, is it? As a pigheaded brute that forces my will upon others?" His lips were quirking up just the smallest bit.

"Well, I wouldn't use the term 'brute'. Perhaps 'bully' or even 'tyrant'," she said in mock consideration.

"Be still your serpent's tongue, elf," Thorin said, "Before this great tyrant is required to take action against you."

Airemis laughed quietly for a moment, and then went silent. She was looking at him, her expression contemplative. "I heard many tales about you before we ever met. Stories of Erebor, of your father and grandfather and the dragon. I always had this picture in my mind whenever your name was mentioned, an image of what I thought you must be like."

"And am I like the image you had of me?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, you are not at all what I was expecting, either."

"How do you mean?" Thorin wasn't sure why he was so interested in her answer, but he could feel a tight knot of anticipation in his chest.

She smiled and tilted her head to study him, "You're younger than I imagined, for starters. Taller and more muscular, too. And you're very handsome, which might have been the biggest shock of all."

Thorin felt floored and more than a little flattered by this assessment. She thought him handsome? A jolt of pleasure pulsed through his body, warm and fluttering in his veins. "You were thinking I would be more like Balin, perhaps? White and withered? Or have a giant, ugly nose like Dwalin?"

Airemis shrugged. "I guess I thought you would be more…dwarvish in appearance. Stocky and hairy and rough. But you're very refined and elegant."

Thorin didn't stop the laugh that boomed out of his chest at this. No one had ever accused him of being refined before. "You have much to learn about me, if you have taken such an impression."

"Oh, I don't think you are so pleasant all of the time," she said, smiling wider and more brightly. "But when you're happy, it's really something to behold."

He didn't quite know what to say at this. Her words had shocked him, confused him. She spoke of him being handsome, refined, elegant. She made such bold and admiring statements about him. Things that he had never heard anyone say about him before. He had been called courageous, strong, competent, and driven. But no one had ever, with just a few choice phrases, made him feel desirable. It was a strange feeling, but not unpleasant.

Airemis was starting to look uncomfortable, as if she wished she had not said so much. She shifted, looked around, and then rose to her feet. "It's getting very dark," she said. "Perhaps we should make for the others now?"

Thorin rose as well and noticed just how close they were standing. Her head was less than a foot from his chest. He could, with minimal effort, reach out and touch her, cross this small gap between their bodies. He wondered what it would feel like to close his arms around her. Would she feel as fragile and small as she looked? Would she fit against his body?

He shook this thought off immediately. He didn't know where that sudden desire had come from, but it was better for everyone if he quickly forgot it. He stepped away from her and said, "Yes, it will be time to set up the watch."

They walked back to the camp in silence.

Dagget clutched his spear tight in his fist and met the orc eye to eye. It was a hideous creature, pale as porridge and riding a white warg. There were other orcs there, too, though they mostly stayed back, sneering at him from atop their grotesque mounts.

"Where is the girl?" the pale orc asked him, showing a glittering arsenal of razor-like teeth behind his lips.

Dagget, who had stayed near the edge of the forest since he had helped the girl, Airemis, enter them, backed up until his feet crunched against the dead leaves and twisting roots that reached out from the dreaded woods. His time as a ranger had trained him in the art of battle, in how to remain calm in the face of many enemies. He didn't waver, didn't let fear take hold of his heart. "Go fuck a troll, you ugly beast," he spat.

The pale orc narrowed its icy eyes and the others began to shriek in outrage. Dagget just laughed and pulled his sword free from the scabbard with his free hand. If he was to die this night, he thought, he would do it with as much fire and fight as he could muster. He spread his feet in a defensive stance and raised his weapons before him.

The orcs pulled forth their own weapons and, as a great angry mob, all charged forward to overtake him.

Dagget let a smile pull over his lips as the thrill of battle began to simmer in his blood. Yes, this was the way he wanted to leave this life.

Airemis awoke with a gasp, her heart pounding a hard rhythm in her chest. She placed a hand on her sternum and pulled in deep, steadying breaths. She looked about the camp at the sleeping dwarves, and felt herself relax a little as she realized she had only been having a nightmare, though she couldn't recall what it was about.

Still, there would be no sleep for her now, so she stood up and stretched her limbs. So many nights sleeping on hard ground had not been kind to her muscles and she could feel knots forming. What she would do for a warm, herb-infused bath and a real bed!

Airemis stepped over Bilbo's sleeping form and headed toward Gloin's hunched form. He had been in charge of the last watch and it looked as though he must have dozed off. She thought it would better to wake him now than let Thorin discover him sleeping on the job.

It was when she started to shake him awake, however, and her eyes once again began to roam the camp, that she noticed something was wrong. Someone was missing!

"Gloin!" she said loudly.

The dwarf, and few others, startled awake at her exclamation. "What is it?" he said, jumping up and looking at the woods as though he expected something to jump out of them.

"Bombur's gone!" She pointed to the spot in which the fat dwarf had been dropped the day before, and, as she said, he was now nowhere to be seen.

The other dwarves had all woken up at this point and were looking around in a mild state of panic for their lost comrade. Thorin was on his feet, scouring the edges of the path with an almost frantic intensity.

"Over here," Bilbo suddenly yelled. They all turned to him and the hobbit pointed to a patch of undergrowth that had been recently disturbed. The leaves were trodden, twigs snapped, the dirt upturned as if by heavy feet. "It looks as though he has strayed from the path!"

The dwarves all groaned and cursed. None of them wanted to go looking in the woods, especially since they had been repeatedly warned not to stray from the path. Airemis volunteered but Thorin quickly and forcefully shot her down.

"It is too dangerous," he said, and his expression made it clear that he was still angry that she had already crossed through the forest to reach them in the first place.

"We can't leave him out there," she said. "What if he never finds his way back? He'll die!"

Thorin looked torn, before he finally nodded and said, "Alright. We will go and find him. But we all go and we all stick together! No one is to run off on their own for any reason. Am I understood?"

Everyone nodded, looking glum. Thorin didn't wait a second longer. He turned and followed the trail of devastation that Bombur had left through the undergrowth. It was not hard to follow in the fat dwarf's tracks, and sooner than any had dared hope, they found their lost companion.

Bombur was standing between a couple of trees, staring out into nothing and mumbling under his breath about a great feast and all of the wonderful foods that would be served. He didn't respond at first when the others called to him. In fact, he barely paid heed as Thorin clasped his shoulder and spun him round to face the group.

Bombur blinked several times, then he seemed to finally notice all of them there. "Oh," he said, "have you all come for the feast? I was just about to go myself."

The other dwarves all shared startled looks. "What are you going on about?' Dwalin asked.

But Bombur turned suddenly and began running further into the forest. "Come on, we mustn't be late or all the good food will be gone!"

Thorin shouted after him, but Bombur did not stop. The others had no choice but to give chase, and were all surprised at how quickly the rotund dwarf could run. They chased him for nearly ten minutes before Bombur suddenly stopped and pointed ahead.

"There it is!" he yelled. "Can you see the lights? Can you smell the roast meats?"

Airemis looked but only saw more trees ahead. She was about to tell Bombur this, to assure him that what he saw was only a hallucination borne from his fall into the enchanted stream, but Kili suddenly shouted, "I see it! A camp fire!"

"I can smell mutton," Fili said, sniffing the air.

"And ham," said Ori.

"Bacon," Bilbo moaned.

Airemis stared at them all as if they had gone insane. There was no campfire. No roasting meat or smells in the air, other than the normal smells of the forest. And then she remembered that this was not a normal forest. This forest was full of strange magic, both of the elves and of a darker sort. Whatever they were all seeing and smelling, it was not real. It was an illusion.

"There's nothing there," she said.

The others all looked at her disbelievingly.

"We can see it with our own eyes," Gloin said.

"Your eyes have been deceived," she pressed. "We must make back for the path."

Everyone scoffed at this. They were too hungry, too deprived of the comforts and luxuries to pay her warnings any heed. They would take whatever risks necessary in order to get a good, hot meal. Even Thorin was ignoring her.

"We'll approach carefully," he said. "We can't be sure who the fire belongs to. We will request their aid."

The other dwarves all cheered at this but Airemis felt dread creep down into her stomach. Thorin led them forward to the spot where Bombur had pointed out the feast, but when they arrived and burst through the trees all of the dwarves groaned and shouted in surprise.

"It's disappeared!"

"What happened to the fire?"

"Who took the meat?"

Airemis said in exasperation, "It was never there to begin with!"

But no one paid her any attention for suddenly Oin pointed into the distance and yelled, "There it is! They've only moved it." And the dwarves all ran for the spot.

This happened several more times, their running to where the feast was supposedly taking place, only to find the spot empty. Then someone would point into the distance and off they would go again. Finally they came to a stop and Thorin said, "Enough! We will never catch them."

Airemis had stopped trying to convince them all that there never had been any feast, nor fire, nor smell of roasting meat. Instead she remained vindictively silent as the dwarves bemoaned their loss.

"Which way do we go to get back to the path?" Bilbo asked, turning round on the spot and squinting into the woods. The others all looked around as well, trying to get their bearings.

"Oy, Airemis," Fili called. "Can you remember from which way we've come?"

Airemis glared at all the dwarves in turn. "Oh, so now you want to listen to me?"

"Do you know or not, lass?" Dwalin said.

Airemis pointed a finger back through the woods, but said nothing else. She was tired and thirsty from so much running, and her arms were scratched up from stray branches and brambles. She spoke naught a word to anyone as they made a much slower journey back to the path. No one said anything more about the feasts, though Bombur kept sending longing looks into the forest and several times one of the dwarves would stop and take an appreciative sniff of the air.

They had strayed much farther than Airemis had thought and soon night was falling upon them. They would not be able to travel in the dark, so Thorin called for them to make camp in a small circular clearing between some oaks. No one was very comfortable with this, least of all Bilbo, who kept muttering about the eyes in the forest.

They huddled close together, so Airemis was still sore with everyone and kept to the outside of the group. They split up the last of their provisions, which did nothing to improve their mood since now there would be no more food and they had lost quite a bit of time, running about the forest and chasing after imaginary feasts.

When night fully settled upon them and everything grew black, Airemis snuggled in closer to Bilbo. She kept her ears trained to the forest, waiting to hear anything suspicious moving about, but all remained quiet for so long that she eventually allowed herself to relax into sleep.

This was a mistake.

Too soon she was startled awake to a most unpleasant sensation. Something sticky and thick as rope was being twined around her body from her feet up her torso. It took a moment for her to realize what it was, but then she felt it. Great hairy legs, eight of them, bristling over her body. She was seized up, twisted over and over as more sticky thread bound her up. She would have gone for her sword, fought the thing off, but her arms were already clamped down, so she did the only thing she could think of.

She screamed, "Spiders!"

There was a great cacophony of voices then as the dwarves all woke, finding themselves in very similar situations. She could hear them struggle, curse, flail about, but it didn't seem to be enough.

As the spider that had hold of her finished binding her, and moved to scuttle off with her as a prize, Airemis could hear the sound of many more feet following: more spiders with their own burdens to carry.

Airemis gulped back her acid panic and tried to think of a plan, of a way to escape. Oh how she wished Gandalf were here! He would know what to do. But he was gone away south, and they were stuck to handle the situation themselves.

But how on earth were they going to make it out of this one?

So, not as much of the spiders as I had originally intended for this chapter. And I took a bit of creative license with the imaginary feasts. That part happens a bit differently in the book, but for the purposes of this story, I changed it up.

A little teaser about the history between Airemis and Thranduil, which will be fully explained in future chapters. Thorin's a little broody in this chapter, but I always think of him as being the type to grow sick of people's company pretty easily and need his "alone time".