(~AN: So sorry for the delay guys! I waited a bit longer in hopes for more replies to my question in chapter ten. It's not too late to give me your opinions! I would really appreciate it- so far more people want me to take the more rational approach to the story line, which means we won't be seeing some of our favorite characters until much, much later.

You'll notice some new Oc's also! Celegnir, Calemirhan, and Calemirdor's bio's are up on my profile. Belegyril's will come soon. ^.^

My weekly posting sced. might have to be compromised- just so much school work to deal with. I'm sure you all relate. xD

Anyways, enjoy! ^.^ )

Chapter Eleven

Bofur's Condition

~A Frettful Feast

Something about the entirety of that Elven meal struck me as odd. At no point did the Dwarves break into merry and rambunctious song and begin throwing food. In fact the mood throughout the long tables, apart from Lord Elrond's, where sat Thorin and Gandalf, was dour. Half-hearted, even. It took a while until I figured it out. There was no Bofur to stand on high, kick his legs in the air and play a cheery tune on his flute. Other than him, and perhaps Kili or Fili, none of the other Dwarves had the personality to start such a delightful scene. Partake in it, of course, but imagining Ori or Gloin or Dwalin standing on the table and starting a food fight just didn't cut it. Kili still flirted with the Elves (accidentally winking at a few males in the bunch), Ori still complained about the vegetables, but without Bofur, there was an obvious lull in the Company.

"I swear they all look the same," Kili mumbled under his breath, turning red after having discovered the Elf maiden he had been eyeing wasn't a maiden at all.

"There's nothing wrong with swinging that way, lad," Dwalin said, smiling mischievously.

"Put a beard in it," Kili bit back.

I laughed, and Fili and Bilbo chuckled. There was laughter, but as someone who had seen the scene before, it felt wrong without the food-fight. It just wasn't the same without seeing Lindir's exasperated face as a scoop of mashed potatoes missed him by inches. And besides for that, the looming uncertainty of Bofur's condition cast a dour and gray cloud over our heads. We were all on edge.

I couldn't help but feel responsible. It was never supposed to happen. Not in the movies nor in the books did Bofur suffer such an injury. And yet, in this story, with me, he did. In this story, I am not a god but a powerful intruder, disturbing Tolkien's text. I'm an added character, like Tauriel, but how will my presence compare to hers? In Peter Jackson's movies Kili and Fili still died, only differently. Kili was struck by a morgal shaft, which wasn't derived from the book, so perhaps this scenario was similar. Like I mentioned before perhaps I can only unsettle the dust and stones on the path, but not veer away from it completely. The adventure would be subject to changes, but the overall conclusion won't be compromised.

But what if this wasn't the case. Hypothetically, couldn't I alter this timeline completely? I could tell Elrond of the ring, or even steal it and set off to destroy it on my own. Not that I had any plans on doing such- gosh, that was a recipe only for disaster. Taking such a risk was beyond stupid for so so so many reasons. But in the frilly land of the theoretical, couldn't I intentionally change everything? This wasn't about following the films or book anymore. This was about following the adventure- only the in-world information was reliably relevant to me now. There were to many changes to use The Hobbit as a guide anymore. I wasn't living the book or movies anymore, I was living the world. It's become clear the unexpected and unscripted is now fully possible.

So then, what would the repercussions be of telling Gandalf everything? I mean, if things were already changing, then perhaps not exposing Sauron's return, and the ring in Goblin Town, could lead to Middle Earth's destruction. I no longer had a clue what to expect. It was a concerning thought, wondering if the entire story was being unwritten. If I wasn't adding footprints but rather a wind that was blowing the sand in all directions. It was terrifying. A weight on my chest that I wanted nothing more than to ignore, but know doing just that could be detrimental. I was way too unreliable to hold such a responsibility. Dammit, why did this all have to happen? Why couldn't I just enjoy Middle Earth and Thorin's quest without having to be plagued by such potential repercussions? I mean, it's amazing that I'm here, and it feels selfish to be complaining, but seriously!

Suddenly, all was quiet. The sudden change in noise caught my attention, and I looked up. The harp players were halted, as was all table chatter. Calemdir-something, the green-eyed Elf from before, only changed from green to gray robes, was standing beside and a bit to Elrond's right.

"I have received word that your Dwarf is recovering well," Elrond spoke. "Enough so for visitors."

Bombor immediately stood. "When?" He asked anxiously.

"Settle down," Elrond said, smiling kindly, "and have patience. You will see your brother soon. Calemirhan can take any who are finished," Elrond said, gesturing to the green-eyed Elf. Almost at once every Dwarf at my table rose, scraping their chairs along the stone-ground. I stood as well, although not as suddenly. The Dwarves were probably antsy to leave this meal of vegtables behind anyways. Elrond looked at us all in amusement. "Very well. Calemirhan," he said, turning to the other Elf. Calemirhan stepped forward, bowed his head, and joined us. Thorin and Gandalf remained in their seats.

"I wish your Dwarf well," Elrond said, looking at Bombor. He probably noticed the blood-brother bond between Bombor and Bofur.

"You have my thanks," Bombor replied. Elrond seemed to have nothing more to say, though he didn't look away from us.

"Balin!" Thorin called, standing from his seat and heading towards us. The old Dwarf turned. "Do not stay long, for I will be needing your company before the morning." Thorin tugged on the collar of his fur coat, hinting at the map that lay underneath. "Will you meet us here, in no more than an hour and it's half?"

Balin nodded. "Aye."

"Very well," Thorin said. He scanned over our group, then at the green-eyed elf. "Stay out of trouble," he looked at Kili and Fili, "and give Bofur my blessings."

"If you are all ready then." Calemirhan said, gesturing for us to follow him away from the courtyard.

The Dwarves started following him, and I as well, only it seemed a bit awkward to just leave Elrond's tables like that. I turned around. Elrond was still watching us, and I caught his gaze. Faltering, I bowed over slightly and self-consciously. "Thank you for your grace and food," I said, cringing at how utterly stupid that sounded. I saw Elrond smile and nod, and I ran away as fast as I could, back to the group, because gosh that was sort of mortifying.

~Our Names

He took us out to the winding path roads and through the night. The sky had grown a dark and brilliant blue, alight with stars and moon who cast silver shadows along the trees and stones. It was frightening though, to look off at the distance and see only black. There were no streetlights to illuminate the grounds. We could only rely on the lamps in the sky.

"Calem- um, excuse me, what is your name again?" Bilbo asked. The group of Dwarves were broken in scattered conversation amongst themselves. The green-eyed Elf was alone in front, ignored except for being followed. Though he didn't seem to mind or notice. As there was such an obvious gap between him and our Company Bilbo and I seemed subconsciously inclined to fill it.

The Elf looked at him. "Calemirhan," he said.

Bilbo nodded. "Calemirhan. I will try to remember. What does it mean? I suppose it has a meaning, yes?"

"You would be cheated to ever come by an Elf with no such name," Calemirhan said. He smiled. "It means Green Jewel."

"For your eyes?" I noted.

"Indeed."

"Do Elves always do that? Name their young after appearance?" Bilbo asked.

"Only if one's is particularly noteworthy. Elven names are as various as any others."

"Wait. Calemirhan?" I frowned. "I could have sworn...Didn't your name have a 'D'?"

The Elf smiled. "You must have met my brother, Calemirdor."

"Brother? There are two of you?" I asked, dubious, as this guy looked exactly like the Elf from before.

"Brothers of the same moon and year," Calemirhan said. Damn, he could have just said 'twins'. Brothers of the same moon and year. Gosh. How utterly pretentious.

"And his name? Is it of similar meaning?" Bilbo asked.

"It is for Green Jewel as well."

I squinted my eyes. "So you both share the name? Does that bother you?"

"He is my brother. We share in blood, birth, and eyes already. It is not so uncommon for family to share in name as well. Have you not come by this?"

I paused. Bifur, Bofur, Bombor; Oin and Gloin; Kili and Fili; Balin and Dwalin; Ori Dori Nori; Boromir and Faromir, Eowin and Eomer...I always thought the alliteration was just to sound cute. I never gave it much thought before. "No...I have. But with no siblings with my name, I always found it curious. It doesn't steal from your identity?"

"My brother is my identity. There is no other in this world who is as alike me as he, in both body and soul."

I thought of Kili and Fili, who walked some ways behind us. The two were nothing alike personality wise, except that they loved each other unconditionally. Siblings share a bond in this world I've rarely seen in "Brentbrook". Family is considered sacred and precious in Middle Earth. I doubt I feel the same way about my household as Kili and Fili do theirs. I mean, I love my parents, but don't consider the surname Blinc an integral part of my identity. When introducing myself back at home I don't give myself as "Natasha, daughter of Maxwell". My name was my own- my dad and hometown don't define me. It's interesting, how names play such a role for your person.

"But havn't you mentioned siblings before Natasha?" Bilbo asked.

"Yes, I have- I just meant our names are alone. A younger sister and brother; Valerie and Jason." I tried to imagine if my relationship with them would be any different if they were Natalie and Nathan or something, but it was hard to picture them under any name other than their own. Really hard to picture. It was just so elemental to their identify. "I would not fool myself in saying my relationship with them is the same to you and your brother Calemirdor, or to the brothers in my company, but I love them all the same."

"What a shame it would be, if you did not," Calemirhan said. "I have heard tales of hatred and betrayal between brothers and sisters, and few others seem so tragic."

"Betrayals feel only powerful when they break from a bond of love or loyalty," I said. "Stories of blood between brothers or stabbings of friends are far more crushing than, say, a spy in the king's guard or an acquaintance. That is why they are so popular in fiction, and so damaging in reality. It isn't hard to accept the treachery of a subject or far neighbor, but of your own family…"

"Such a thing is of the vilest poison," Calemirhan said.

"This conversation escalated rather highly, don't you think?" Bilbo asked.

I looked at him, the corner of my lip lifting into a half-smile. "Indeed it did," I said. We went from names and family-bonds, something so white, to treachery, which is so black, in a heartbeat.

"It is not an easy time for you," Calemirhan said. "Until you see your Dwarf healing well, the world will feel dark on your skin."

"Strange, but poetic," I said.

"Are we almost there?" Bilbo asked. Calemirhan had led us across a pathway covered with a dark wooden awning and just onto a short stone bridge. From what I'd seen, Rivendell was built with many breaks and crossings, interrupting nature as little as possible. The bridge rose over a petty blue stream that easily could have been dammed or redirected. The moon was fair and mirrored in the water brightly, rippling and waving with the soft wind. The stream slipped down into a steep waterfall a few arms away, and the bridge was no longer than five yards before returning to a straight and uninterrupted ground.

"The next stairwell we will take, and soon after see your friend," Calemirhan answered. "He is in great care. Belegyril is a gifted healer- it was she he was given to. You shall soon see the power of Elven medicine, faster and purer than any other. Your Dwarf is in good hands."

~Hopeful News

The Company stood clustered together, standing before the looming face of a tall oaken door. Calemirhan had ordered us to wait before he slipped inside. There was not much to do, and not much that wanted to be said, as we were all anxious and thinking the same mixture of hopeful and dark thoughts. We were in a high level of an open building. Rivendell was a beautifully organized maze of balconies, staircases, bridges and overlooks, all of which led to some or other room or entryway. Bofur's infirmary room was deep within the length of a hallway built atop a high natural earthen platform. By looking over the barred balcony at our side, opposite the door, we were witness to another stunning perspective of Rivendell. We were higher, and so could peek at the stone paths and marble buildings below, and no structure stood to block our view of the open sky and valley. Silver and dark shadows swirled along an even darker landscape, so that amongst the black silhouettes of canyon and distant wood small pops of white spotted the grounds, illuminating a snuff of tree-top or a gleam of river. It was all very peaceful and serene. A quiet and soft beauty. I could only imagine how to looked in the daylight.

The door creaked open, and Calemirhan's fair face peeped from inside, smiling. "You may come in".

Glancing at each other nervously, Bombor was the first to step inside, followed by the rest of us. Bilbo and I stayed until the end of the line, wanting to give the Dwarves priority in seeing Bofur first. Bofur sat atop a wide and curved bed, his lap and legs swallowed in white blankets and his short waist and head looking so small atop a bed so huge. He was beaming brilliantly, and though pale looked like his normal and merry self. A huge well of relief washed over me- of course he was well. Kili had dealt with the poisons of a morgal shaft for far longer in the films. Bofur suffered them for only a night. The kingsfoil must have worked, and if I wanted to draw connections, I could guess it was this new species fit for Rivendell's climate that was used to cure Frodo in The Fellowship of the Ring. It was all added things that had no connection to the books, but I didn't feel the want to question it. Bofur was doing fine, and that's all that mattered. All was well and right.

We all huddled around him, some plopping down on his bed and others standing beside it. The scene looked exceptionally odd, as I had never seen it before, nor had I ever seen Bofur in such a situation, and without his spiffy hat.

"You look as good as new!" Dori said.

"Glad to see you're alright, laddie," Balin said.

"How's your leg?" Bilbo asked.

"No pain at all!" Bofur grinned. "Belegyril is gifted with herbs."

"I wish I had been there when she used them," Oin said. "I have heard many a thing on Elven healing magic."

"It was a moment I won't be keen on forgetting," Bofur said.

"I have your, um, hat," Bombor said, handing him his brown floppy headpiece.

"Ah! I thought I had given it to you," Bofur said, happily taking his hat and stuffing it over his head. "I was so loopy I wasn't sure."

"He was very worried for it," a sweet voice said from behind. I turned to see a tall woman Elf stepping through the door, a green-leafed package in her hand. She seemed to float inside, as a fluttering white skirt covered her feet and her footsteps were too light to hear. She looked at us with kind gray eyes that were both sharp and soft and from a light and open face. Her brown hair was of a kind I hadn't seen on an Elf before; tight ringlets that fell a bit past her shoulders, a beautiful, darker, and calmer interpretation of a lion's mane, and tied back with a gold ribbon. I couldn't be sure, but I thought I saw a neat and light smattering of freckles along her nose. She was beautiful, as every dang Elf is, and held herself in a humble but proud manner, so that she came across as delicate but also strong.

"This is Belegyril," Calemirhan said. "One of Rivendell's finest and brightest healers." I noticed a particular fondness in his words. It didn't seem to me that he only meant to praise her talents. Oo la la.

She laughed. "Your words are too high for me." She smiled at us. "But I do my best."

"Damn, if only I had been bitten by that arrow instead," Kili murmured behind me. I heard the thump of Fili whacking. I couldn't help but let out a laugh, turning around to see Kili rubbing his forearm.

"Now, which of you is the Dwarf named Oin?" Belegyril asked.

"That would be I," Oin said, stepping forward.

She held out the bundle in her hand. "This is for your travels. It is more Athelas, in case he gets worse or another of you is struck by similar blow."

"I thank you, kind lady," Oin said, bowing his head and accepting the package. I was happy with how the Dwarves were treating these Elves so far. I guess their hearts are easily bought with food. And her caring for Bofur obviously helped.

"Athelas?" Ori asked.

"The Sindarin word for Kingsfoil," I said.

"How on earth do you know that?" Kili asked incredulously.

"That word does seem too random to be in the stars," Fili commented.

"I just read a lot," I said, smiling.

"She is right," Belegyril said. "I had some wrapped for you, as the raids of Orcs seem to be happening more often these days."

"These are dangerous times. They are growing bolder," Calemirhan muttered.

"But no less stupider," Gloin said, winning small chuckles from the Dwarves.

"But what did you mean when you mentioned words in the stars?" Belegryil asked.

"It was nothing," I tried, but Bofur answered at the same time, "she is a psychic."

Oh, crap on a stick. Crap crap hell in a bucket. I inhaled a sharp breath and prayed I wouldn't be asked to give a demonstration. I didn't know these Elves- I had utterly nothing on them.

"A psychic?" Belegryil said wryly.

"That is a gift rare even among Elves," Calemirhan said.

I really didn't want to deal with this right now. Really really really didn't want to. This was a time to be spent fussing and laughing with Bofur, not me showing off. And there wasn't much I could show off on, obviously, because these two Elves weren't in any of Tolkien's works, and I wasn't actually psychic. Ugh! I just had to be a smartass and flaunt my knowledge of what seemed to them an utterly useless fact. Crap on a freaking stick. But I was stuck. I couldn't exactly deny it. "It is true, but not so exaggerated," I said.

"She's brilliant," Fili said.

I looked at him curiously. That was a really irritating thing to be said right then, but for some reason I couldn't find it in me to scowl at him. It felt nice, to know that's how he thought of me. "I do not rely on my gifts as much as you think I do," I said. "Most of what I have said or done is simply because I am well educated in many things."

"She's killed two trolls," Ori said.

"And was able to sense them a day away," Dori said.

"Yea, but I misread their location-" I tried.

"Do not be so humble!" Bofur said.

"She is a true 'badass,'" Kili said.

"You knew the Orcs were going to attack today," Oin said.

"If we hadn't left early, we would never have been reached in time," Dwalin grunted. Dammit. Even the hardass Dwalin was joining in.

"Lads, I don't think Natasha wants your praise," Balin said, his eyes smiling. Damn right I didn't. At least not there. Hell, they could talk of my exploits all they wanted- put a freaking crown on my head for all I cared. In fact, listening to them applaud me was lifting and energizing. I loved it. But just not now.

"The only great thing I managed was the trolls, but that was with pure physical skill alone." And a gun. But I sure as well wasn't about to say that. And it really screwed things up. I credited the two shattered Troll carcasses to be the cause of the Orcs keeping their distance and sticking to arrows.

"You killed two Trolls?" Belegyril asked in a kind, intrigued voice.

Dammit. Wait, no, this was good actually- if I played that up they might forget about the "psychic" crap. Good. This was good. "Yea," I said with perfect casualty. But crap. If any of the Dwarves mentioned the gun…

"It was incredible," Bilbo said.

"I can imagine, for someone so young," Calemirhan said. "How did you do it?"

Son of a freaking literal gun- he just had to ask.

"It was something who's like I had never seen before," Ori exclaimed, excited now. Aw, he was such a sweetie. But dammit now was not the time.

"She carries with her a magnificent weapon-" Oin began.

"My sword," I cut him off. The Dwarves looked at me strangely, and I continued quickly before any could interrupt. I unsheathed my katana and pretended to admire it's blade. "It has been in my family for many, many generations." Lie. "It holds the blood of many angry men." Lie. "When I wield it, I feel the strength of all the warriors who did before it. It gives me strength, and the courage and ability, of warriors ten times my own." Oh, total freaking lie. But I gave the Dwarves a look, a don't-you-say-a-damn-thing-and-please-please-just-roll-with-it-look.

"But-" Dori started.

"I often wish for such a sword," Bilbo quickly said over him. Oh, thank the freaking heavens for him.

The other Dwarves started to nod,

"May I see it?" Calemirhan asked. I nodded reluctantly and handed it to him. His beautiful eyes roamed it's blade and handle, turning it over, and I got really nervous. Could he tell that it definitely wasn't several hundred years old? "I am not a sword-maker, and I see nothing special in this sword's make." Oh, shit. "But weapons of such ancient family history hold a particular, more personal power, that no crafter can copy. If what you say is true, it is a fine weapon indeed." I thought I head some confusion, or uncertainty, in his voice, but I couldn't trouble my self to pay it any mind.

As he handed it back to me I felt a surge of rushing relief. I talked my way out of that one really nicely. I was so full of BS, but he didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he said nothing. Because I really didn't want to dwell on this any longer, I turned to Bofur. "Will he be walking soon?"

Belegyril walked towards him, putting her hand on his forehead. Bofur blushed, and some of the Dwarves snickered behind me, but the Elf took no notice. "He is healing well- even now his leg is strong enough to carry him." She straightened, and an air of relief and energy passed over the Dwarves. "But I will need him to stay at least once more day, and perhaps several more," she added, and with those words the Dwarves all deflated.

"How come?" Nori asked.

"If you say he is well?" Dori added.

"This Athelas is of newer breed, as I am sure you have been told," she said. "He must stay under my eye until I am certain for if he were to regress during your travels, I could do nothing."

She held a pretty solid argument, though the Dwarves still tried to find reasons to argue.

"I am stronger than I look," Bofur said.

"And we have sustained worse injuries," Dwalin said.

"The lady is right lads," Balin argued.

"As a medical practitioner, I say the same!" Oin shouted loudly, fiddling with his ear trumpet.

"But look a Bifur!" Kili said. "He has a bloody axe in his head, and he's fine."

"Usht Kamfliknau thumglen," is something close to what Bifur grunted.

Kili faltered. "I've no idea what he said, but I'm sure he agrees," he insisted.

"Do not let your love for the road blind you," Calemirhan scolded. He seemed to take particular offense of the Dwarves arguing with Belegyril's ruling. "Do not be so foolish."

"But you really want to keep us here longer, though?" Kili asked, playing on their tense relationship with the Elves. He looked to Fili, but the brother Dwarf seemed to disagree. Some of the other Dwarves seemed to lose their vigor as well.

"A true healer is ignorant to her patient's race," Belegyril said.

"Stop it, all of you," Bombor spoke. "We are arguing over my brother's life. If one more day is the price to keep his health, then so be it. I would sooner give a hundred more than risk his loss."

"You are all so serious," Bofur laughed. "It doesn't suit you. I am perfectly happy staying in the lovely Belegyril's care," he said, smiling at the Elf, which I found only slightly surprising. "And besides a few days away from the road will do us good."

The Dwarves obviously didn't like it, but they muttered their consents. "Someone will have to tell Thorin," Fili said.

"I will do it," Balin said. "I should be returning to him now besides."

"He sends his blessing, by the way," Bilbo said. "As does Gandalf I'm sure."

Bofur smiled, and he and Balin smashed heads in farewell. I heard a small gasp escape Belegyril's lips, but she held in her surprise rather well, considering. I glanced at Calemirhan, curious if the Dwarven custom fazed him at all. His brows were still frowning. He seemed still angry of the past argument. I wondered if there was any unspoken chemistry happening between the two Elves. It was the only explanation I could think of, other than Calemirhan just being a particularly testy fellow, and disapproving of Dwarves challenging Elves.

Balin left, but we stayed longer. Calemirhan and Belegyril sat in the room's corner talking amongst themselves, allowing us privacy. We chatted and laughed, and Bofur's wellbeing and presence re-kindled the group's happy fire. It was all very nice and cozy, and for those few hours all concerns and thoughts of our quest flew far, far away.

Thorin will discover his runes this night

The Company will press their time.

But they can't leave some behind.

Natasha's choices must be rushed,

But each one will unsettle the dust

of this story-book world.