Author's Note: Well hi there! It's been far too long. After much work and a little laziness, all obstacles and complications have finally been overcome. Thanks to those who will remember this story and come back for more. Thanks to those who will read it for the first time. And a very special thanks to those who will take the time to tell me what they think. Usual disclaimer, this ain't all mine, for sure.

Lead the Way

Muggins blinked the water out of his eyes and tried to concentrate on his assailant, "What?"

"My name is Riyelle. Go back, traitor."

"Traitor," Muggins scoffed, "And what are you? I've delivering a message from the council to the dwarf."

"You hope to have him expelled. Why?"

"We will never submit to an unfit king." It was, after all, the established doctrine.

"How unfit?"

"Erm . . . "

"How unfit? He's not dragon-sick, we all saw that. So how?"

"Ehh . . . "

Riyelle advanced on him in his hesitation. "You are no judge of a king," she told him, "We none of us are. The mountain will choose its king."

Recognition dawned. "You're the traitor!"

"To the council, yes, you could say so. But I have chosen the mountain, and there I am loyal."

Muggins grinned, "Comrade!" Riyelle squirted him. "No," he choked, "I mean it."

Again he got a facefull, accompanied by, "Seen the error of your ways, have you? Well excuse me; I find your penitence doubtful."

"Stop it! Not penitence, nymph, and not my error. Theirs. I will see the council overthrown. They think capturing the heart will drive him to tip his hand, lose his edge. I think it will show the mountain who can be trusted. Put the weight of the mountain's will behind him and that's the end."

"And you'll be the one who supported him. You'll be his right hand, is that it?"

"Well I'll be at least a rung above banished. Won't I?"

Riyelle lowered her hands, scowling. "All right, let's hear your plan before I drown you."

Thorin, finished kicking himself but still morose, had taken up his staff. He was resolved to become a permanent fixture of these caves; to haunt them until he forgot himself or found Halmulev. Or perhaps he would learn enough in the eons ahead that he would no longer need her to understand the mountain. If one day the mountain took pity and gifted obedience, he could be half a king-for at this point gaining the heart's undying fealty was a fading echo. He inclined his head to the great throne and wandered out into the tunnels.

Completely lacking wanderlust, Thorin couldn't keep his feet moving unless he gave himself purpose. He told himself he was searching for Halmulev; then later shifted to seeking out the mountain's secrets; then to finding a suitable cavern for dwelling. Flimsy and transient though they were, these pretexts kept him moving and alert.

Alert enough to hear dwellers in his path ahead and take his staff in both hands. Could he force them to lead him through the tunnels and find Halmulev?

Riyelle was the first to show herself. Suddenly it occurred to Thorin that it may be worth leaving the mountain and finding the halls of his fathers to give this "child" her comeuppance.

"You," he growled, "Did you not fall?"

"I did not. I'd run back to the hoard by then."

"A new trick then?"

She advanced, but he levelled the staff. "If I had fallen, it would not have been undeserved," she conceded. Thorin scoffed. "I meant to save us from a dragon-sick king. But you are not dragon sick."

"Nor am I king."

"Not yet, but soon!" Muggins made his presence known and scuttled down from the ceiling. "When you are whole."

Thorin did not step back, but battle lines seemed to appear in his face. "Who are you?"

"Muggins, sir. You threw me from your back on arriving, see, and I were meant to die. But I didn't, see?"

"He has followed you all this time," Riyelle explained, "Plotting vengeance."

A dark thought arose that Thorin might better be avenged on him, who caused all this long stay in the cruel mountain.

Muggins perceived this thought. "Not vengeance on you, no. On them that punished me for not dying. I heard what the heart said. You're nearly healed. Make restitution and there's done!"

"And can you interpret that for me? Make restitution? To whom? I am dead am I not? The lives I damaged and ended during the sickness cannot be repaired from these tunnels. What of all the things I ruined can be restored?" Thorin could no longer see the dwellers, his vision filled with the fellows of his company. He saw vividly his nephews' confusion, his elders' despair, this friends' loss. He saw Bilbo's heartbreak at being abandoned, disowned, reviled. He saw the battle, men and elves and dwarves killing and dying. A war of only defeat waged at the heels of a great victory. Revulsion boiled Thorin mercilessly.

Riyelle left him to his waking nightmares a moment before interjecting. "There was one betrayed still within your reach."

"You humiliated the mountain," Muggins rushed to cash in his espionage, "didn't you? Bloodied its feet. Made a battleground of your proclaimed home. Wounded its heart, did you not?"

Contempt stamped itself on Thorin's stare, "I did."

"If you make restitution offered up unto the mountain, you may at once heal yourself and earn the kingdom, Thorin Oakenshield," Riyelle suggested humbly.

Thorin shook his head. "I am weary of your tricks. I'll not follow you again."

Muggins tried his luck, "She speaks truth, milord. We two set ourselves at odds with the council."

"We have lost faith with them," Riyelle supplied. "The dwellers can't see that they have overstepped their bounds. Rather than prove the would-be king, they have turned our home into a battleground within. They are consumed."

"I said I will not follow you."

Riyelle grew impatient. "They have the heart."

"What did you say?"

"They have lost all sense. They defy the ages-old laws that allow us to live here. They have her bound and imprisoned in a hope of drawing you out and running you mad."

"So you'll kill them all," Muggins clarified, "Or as many as it takes to free her at least. And get yourself thrown out."

"That cannot be," Thorin protested. "How could they?"

"You have withstood us, Thorin," Riyelle explained quietly. "Not since you failed to kill Muggins have we been able to rouse you to violence. There are two ways we know to expel a candidate: incite dragon-sickness or drive him to violence. You have resisted them both. They need to awaken in you a deadly rage."

"But to risk so much? To risk the heart?"

"They are desperate," Riyelle maintained.

"And they know you love her!" Muggins fairly screamed it and then clamped a hand over his own mouth.

Thorin stared at him, uncomprehending. Then, slowly, contempt reasserted itself. A spy indeed. He resisted the urge to spit. Riyelle was looking down, then away, anywhere but Thorin's face, embarrassed for his sake. He felt compelled to explain himself, but could find nothing at all to say. Through a long, awkward moment Muggins sat, hand covering his mouth, eyes darting back and forth between his companions. When it appeared no one was going to further address the issue, he relaxed. "So you go and get her back," he summarized, "And there's done."

Neither of the other two looked like they were as confident in this plan as was Muggins. Riyelle looked sideways at Thorin and couldn't decide whether she actually thought him capable of accomplishing the task. He looked exhausted, and heavily burdened. For his part, Thorin was reminding himself that these two dwellers were not to be trusted and asking himself, just in case, how in the world he would save someone from these enemies (who had always reduced him to agonized smithereens) without taking on a fatal rage. He couldn't think of a way, either to determine the veracity of the story or to defeat the dwellers.

But if any portion of their story were true, even if it were a trap, then the violent rage bit didn't matter as much. He could assess the situation and, if necessary, he knew he could carve a path of carnage through the enemies without much problem, since that's what they wanted him to do anyway. His only worry would be being swallowed up or expelled before he could reach the captive, but even then the dwellers would let her go as soon as they were rid of him, wouldn't they?

He could do that for Halmulev, his guide. He could relieve her of the burden of his presence and the contention it brought on the mountain. But what if she wasn't there? What if this whole thing was a ruse? Then he still had the option of killing his way out of purgatory, but without even the chance of seeing Halmulev again. And surely that would be the cleverer plan, would it not? Drive him to desperation without endangering the heart.

Suddenly he was certain it was all a ploy, a lure. He narrowed his eyes at Riyelle. "I will not follow you."

She was disappointed, if not surprised, by the turn. "But we know where she is."

Thorin wavered a moment, but held firm. His decision was made. He silently begged forgiveness of Halmulev if he'd chosen wrong. It would do no good, of course, if he were wrong. He may never know.

"You don't have to follow," Muggins piped up. Riyelle, who looked like she might cry, whipped around to look at the imp in earnest. "You can lead us there."

"How?" she beat Thorin to the question, "Even if we told him exactly where she was he'd have to believe our directions. And if we let him navigate he'd be turned around in a second!" A somewhat offended dwarf had to nod his assent to the evaluation.

Muggins, seeing how truly mystified were his companions, couldn't help but milk it a little. "We imps, you know, underlings, you know, we learn a thing or two keeping our ear to the ground, that we do. Let's just say, Master Dwarf, that it's not just the dwellers what know the passageways. The maze is clear and simple to another." His little speech served him naught. Riyelle rolled her eyes and Thorin scowled at him. "The mountain!" he explained. "The mountain can show you the way."

Thorin shook his head and looked at his feet.

Riyelle was somewhat more encouraged. "How so?" she demanded.

"I've never seen it done, mind. But they always say if you're sent away somewhere and you can't get back-you wouldn't know because you never send your own kind to unknown parts, do ya?-but if that should happen you can ask the mountain for help and the stone will light your way out."

"You cannot expect me to believe this," Thorin muttered. Riyelle was silent.

"What, you doubt it could happen?" the imp moved closer to Thorin in his boldness, "You? You what saw stone fall away under the feet of an entire mob? How d'ya explain that, then? If it weren't the mountain taking measure? If it can harm, it can help, I tell you." Despite himself, Thorin looked to Riyelle.

Who was hopeful. "If the mountain claims you as its own . . . that would be a good first step, don't you think?"

First step? Well, Muggins may have seen and heard everything, but Riyelle obviously hadn't. First step? Hadn't she been there to see when he defied the lure of treasure? What could she mean, first step?

"For the mountain, I mean," Riyelle continued as if guessing Thorin's thoughts, "The mountain has to accept you before it can obey you."

Thorin was, to put it mildly, at odds with himself. He was trying desperately to figure out how this might also be a trick. If there was one thing he'd had his fill of, it was impish and nymphish little tricks. Would the mountain swallow him up or throw him out if he tried? Did they themselves have some new plan of attack?

Was it worth it to refuse? He was having a hard time paying them full attention, his mind flitting back to the image of Halmulev rubbing her neck after the attack. Did not that prove she was in some danger? Could not they hold her against her will without harming her? She was, and they could. Rather than ask his companions how he might go about asking this favor of the mountain and have to decide whether or not they lied, he chose to risk humiliation and give it a go.

The would-be rescuer crouched very low, leant his staff on his shoulder and lay both hands on the cold stone. "If she is endangered, if-your heart-needs my help, please show me the way to her. If you do, I promise to make her free again, free to pulse life into these tunnels, into your innermost depths and outermost reaches. I swear it."

Riyelle and Muggins stood and watched, respectfully silent. And silently they stood for a long while. Each grew restless in his and her own way. Riyelle began to shift from foot to foot and squirt little streams of water from one hand into the other, concerned that the longer Thorin stalled the longer they were all away from Halmulev and the better chance of Muggins' victim being discovered. Muggins' head turned every which way as he scoured the dark stone for some kind of light, worried that a mistake now would have him out of favor with both the mountain factions.

Thorin, though, did not move. He stayed still, palms pressed into the rock. He recited to himself Halmulev's explanation of the mountain's understanding of time. He thought of the echo chambers and how he had heard deaths that had long since passed. How long would it take for his vow to seep in? And for him to receive the response? There was no concept of seconds ticking by, no pressing in of the feared unknown, no calculating ever increasing risk. Thorin was on the mountain's time now, and he knew it.

It was Muggins and his darting eyes who spotted it first. From under the staff leaked an unnatural light. Thorin lifted the scepter and saw a disk matching the base of the oak glowing blue-white under the stone. It faded. Thorin lowered the staff and when wood and stone connected the disk reappeared and a line shot out from it. A blue-white yarn under the stone extending some way into the tunnel.

"Look at that!" Riyelle murmured.

"It's working!" Muggins squeaked, skittering away down the line.

"Wait!" Thorin commanded, lifting the staff so the line faded away. "I said I would not follow you."

"Get back here, Muggins," Riyelle scolded, but her smile ruined it.

The three companions set off with three matching faces. Each was anxious for his or her own reasons, which anxiety was tempered by an equally shared renewal of hope. With every step, the staff struck the stone again and the glowing yarn raced ahead, brightening this hope, this nourishment long since foreign to the souls within the mountain.

Thorin the would-be king walked with new purpose now, daring to believe he just might actually accomplish something useful under this lonely mountain.