"I wondered what you'd have on the side with a plate of Deep Fried Anxiety. Pickles? Coleslaw? Potato-strychnine mash?"

Robin McKinley, Sunshine


The White Council had drawn to an unsatisfactory close just as the sun started to rise over the valley of Imladris. The night had been long and wearying for Gandalf, not having slept the night before with the incident with the trolls either. His every move, plan and suspicion had been ruthlessly dissected and rejected by Saruman to the extent that he felt scolded like a child. The only blessings were that the company had departed before Saruman could interfere in their quest (thank the Valar for Thorin's stubborn nature and distrust of Elves) and that the White Wizard seemed unaware of Elizabeth Darrow's presence in Middle Earth.

Gandalf had lingered with the Lady Galadriel after the meeting had finished, hoping the Lady would give him some counsel. And indeed, she divulged that she shared his fears and that he was right to help the Dwarves, allaying his doubts.

"Mithrandir," she said as he turned to leave, regaining his attention. "Why Elizabeth Darrow?"

That the Lady was aware of Elizabeth and no doubt her origins as well came as no shock to him: he would not be surprised if the Lady had sought her out the previous day. "I do not know," he said honestly, since when he had met Elizabeth in a bookshop in her world he had simply been overcome by a feeling that she was the one to assist Thorin on his quest.

"You risk changing the fate of Middle Earth by bringing her here," the Lady pointed out, her tone devoid of any accusation.

"No," Gandalf disagreed with her. "If you remove a single brick then the tower itself remains standing, it is only if you remove the keystone that the tower falls."

"You still speak in riddles, mellon nin," Lady Galadriel said with a smile."You believe the Halfling to be the keystone."

"Yes. Saruman believes that only great power can hold evil in check, but that is not what I find. I have found that it is the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Simple acts of kindness … and love," he added thoughtfully. "You asked why Elizabeth Darrow and the honest answer is that she gives me hope where I felt only doubt, and as for Bilbo Baggins," he paused pensively. "Perhaps it is because despite Elizabeth's presence I am still afraid … and he gives me courage."


Lizzy found herself yawning as they made the ascent up out of the valley, not having slept well the night before despite her soft mattress and beautiful feather pillow. She had found herself tossing and turning, her mind constantly replaying what she had seen in the mirror before falling into a fretful sleep. She had actually been grateful when Thorin had woken her in the middle of the night, interrupting her nightmares.

After he had left she didn't want to go back to sleep and risk more dreams so she had gotten dressed, packed her bag ready for the morning and gone to sit out on the balcony to watch the crescent moon's slow journey across the sky. She must have fallen asleep in her chair since she had woken in the chilly morning with the sun just beginning to rise.

Grabbing her bag, sword and shoes, not bothering to take the time putting them on, she had high-tailed it barefoot to the courtyard without even making her bed. She had made it just in time to see the Dwarves shouldering their packs and Thorin had given her a pointed look of annoyance at how close to their departure time she was cutting her arrival.

"We were just about to send someone to find you, was a feather pillow holding you in thrall?" Bombur had asked with a cheeky grin.

"You could say that," she'd replied, throwing herself to the floor to pull on her socks and boots. It took her scant minutes to tie her laces, strap Naethring's sword belt around her hips and shoulder her own pack. "Ready when you are," she'd said as she pulled her hair back into a messy bun.

They left the courtyard, keeping their voices down as they moved through Rivendell. They weren't technically doing anything wrong in leaving, but they still didn't want the Elves to hinder them. Given the size of the valley the sun had properly risen by the time they made it to one of the rocky paths out over the top.

"Be on your guard, we are about to step over the Edge of the Wild," Thorin said from above them. "Balin, you know these paths, lead on."

Lizzy saw Bilbo pause and look back one last time. She joined him in gazing longingly out over the peaceful house that was fairly glowing in the morning sunshine. Rivendell was a beautiful and tranquil place and she wished she could have spent more time there as opposed to just one day.

"I'm going to miss this place," Bilbo said to her softly. "I just … I felt like I could have lived there."

She smiled knowingly at the Hobbit. "Maybe you will one day."

"Master Baggins, Miss Darrow, I suggest you keep up," a deep, stern voice said from above them and they turned to see Thorin observing their wistfulness with his arms folded disapprovingly across his chest.

Lizzy arched a single brow at Thorin as they passed him, though decided not to comment that she and Bilbo had hardly fallen far behind, not wanting to start an augment and strain the tentative truce they had formed. Their relationship had undergone a shift in the last twenty four hours – the past few weeks in the wilderness they had largely ignored each other, barring a few charged conversations that had bordered on arguments, but after spending the most of the day together yesterday they were suddenly allies with this big secret between them – and Lizzy was no longer sure how to act around him.

It was strange, he had always been one of her favourite characters in the story but since she had been in Middle Earth she had found herself liking him less. Brooding was perhaps all well and good in books, but on Thorin in person it came across as dour and grumpy, lowering the mood of the whole company when he indulged in the habit for days on end. Admittedly she had enjoyed one or two of their debates but hadn't really sought out his company when they were travelling, getting on better with the others. Fili and Kili were closer in age and temperament to her, and she found the lack of pretence among the Brother's Ur refreshing: they were commoners like her and not in any way related to the line of Durin, unlike most of the company.

However the previous night, when he had stood staring at her after she had handed him back the map, she'd remembered her first impressions of Thorin when watching the film – that despite the grey streaks in his hair, he had come across as very attractive. She had suddenly found herself very aware that they were alone in her bedroom and had been relieved when he'd recollected himself and left.

The company made their way through the wilderness on foot and as the day wore on Lizzy began to understand what Thorin had meant when he spoke about stepping over the Edge of the Wild. They were no longer in the low-lands between the Shire and Rivendell, but rather making the ascent into the mountain region, meaning they were walking through rock valley's and pine forests.

As their first day from Rivendell drew to a close Lizzy's legs were aching and she found herself missing Binky, hoping her faithful pony hadn't been caught by wargs or other animals. After several weeks on the back of a pony she had gotten out of the habit of long walks and knew it would be several days before her body reacclimatised to hiking.

She was resting by the fire and rubbing slight cramps out of her legs when the rasping of a weapon being drawn from behind her startled her into turning around. Dwalin was standing with knife that was almost long enough to be considered a sword in his hand. He jerked his head away from the camp. "Come," he said gruffly, expecting her to follow him.

Since none of the company seemed surprised at Dwalin's behaviour Lizzy swallowed down her trepidation and joined the intimidating Dwarf outside of the camp.

"There is little point you owning a sword unless you know how to wield it," Dwalin said, pointing at Naethring with his knife. "Take your stance."

Realising he wanted to teach her how to use a sword, she followed his orders, drawing her sword and taking the same stance that Fili and Kili had shown her when they had previously tried to teach her to use a weapon. Naethring was far easier to hold aloft that Fili's sword, though she still held it a little gingerly. Dwalin corrected her grip and foot positioning and then started to run through several basic drill-type moves. Though he primarily used the massive axes he carried, he was clearly well-versed in all types of weaponry and fighting.

Apparently before she could spar with anyone else she had to learn the moves. He had given each drill-position a number and was shouting them in different orders, then she had to do the corresponding moves with them coming together in a sequence that he would make her repeat.

They were at it for well over an hour before they lost the light and he let her finish, telling her that she would learn five more drill-moves each evening to be added to the sequences she was already learning.

She suppressed a groan at the idea and thanked him politely for the lesson before returning to the fire, where dinner was just being served up.

"You're looking a little worse for wear," Fili observed as she sat down beside him, taking in the faint sheen of sweat on her face and the hair that was escaping from its bun.

"Dwalin is a hard task-master," she said, thinking that their lesson was the most she had ever interacted with the gruff Dwarf since usually disapproval radiated off him in waves whenever he was in her presence.

"Aye, I remember when he first started teaching us," Fili agreed, smiling a little at the memory.

"It's good you're learning to use a sword, you never know when we will be attacked again and you won't always be able to use my bow," Kili put in around a mouthful of food.

Lizzy smiled because she did actually know when they would be attacked again, knowing that they would have to fight their way through Goblin-Town – then the smile froze on her face as she suddenly realised that she would be in that fight as well. This wasn't just a movie or story anymore, if the goblins caught her she would be tortured and killed in the most horrific way possible. She had no fighting skills to speak of and her survival could very well depend on how much she practised over the next few weeks.

Swallowing hard against the horrible lump of anxiety in her throat, she found that she was no longer hungry.


They spent nearly three weeks in the Wild as they headed towards the Misty Mountains. They were travelling north-west from Rivendell, approaching the mountains at a diagonal with the terrain gradually getting more rocky and precarious. They were no longer following the Great East Road, but rather little paths that liked to vanish for days on end and they would have become hopelessly lost were it not for Balin leading the way.

Apparently there were many routes up to the Misty Mountains and many passes over them, but most of them were cheats and deceptions that led to dead ends or bad places. The Dwarves told her that the route they were taking, the High Pass, was largely deemed to be safe: Lizzy had hummed non-committally, knowing they would not find it to be so and being quite frankly terrified at the idea.

She had toyed with the idea of telling Thorin to take a different route over the mountains, but had quickly dismissed the thought. She had told him in Rivendell that the quest was hugely important with it's vast knock-on effect on the fate of Middle Earth: Bilbo had to find the Ring as they passed the Misty Mountains, otherwise god knows what would happen.

For Lizzy, those weeks were exhausting and miserable, she had completely lost her appetite and the nightmares that had started in Rivendell were now a nightly occurrence – she cursed the Lady Galadriel under her breath, wishing she had never looked into that damn mirror.

She didn't talk quite as much as she used too, being far too preoccupied with her thoughts, and would spend the evenings avidly practising both her sparring and her archery until she lost the light, whereupon she would return to the camp, choke down what little food she could manage and then curl up to go to sleep. If she didn't exhaust herself she would lie awake for hours on end, grimly anticipating what her dreams would bring.

The weather grew gradually colder as they ascended into the mountains, despite the July sunshine. Dwarves were hardy folk, resilient to both cold and heat, and so they didn't particularly mind the temperature change, but Bilbo and Lizzy would huddle together as close to the fire as they could once she had finished practising, shivering away.

Various members of the company seemed to be conspiring to keep her on her feet: Bombur was constantly trying to convince her to eat more; Bifur would lend her his jacket and Bofur his hat when the nights got too cold; Dori made her nettle-tea from some leaves he had found that both warmed her hands while she drunk it and she found that she could stomach far better than actual food; and Fili and Kili constantly walked beside her as they travelled, keeping up a steady stream of conversation, ignoring her reticence and coaxing the occasional smile from her despite her depression and anxiety.


Just after the end of their first week travelling again Thorin decided that he'd had enough. Taking one of their crude plates and loading it up with a bit of dried bread and cooked pheasant that Kili had shot down earlier, he approached their advisor. She was standing a little away from the camp practising her archery. Her intense practising had improved her technique vastly considering how hopeless she had been before: she almost always hit whatever she was using as a target now, though not with much precision.

"Here," he said, holding the plate out to her – the first time they had spoken since Rivendell.

"I'm not hungry," Miss Darrow replied, not even looking at him and making no move to take the plate as she nocked another arrow.

"You are not eating properly, Miss Darrow," he said grimly, having noticed her appetite waning since they had left Rivendell. "Do not think we have not noticed."

"Well, I'm not really in the mood for pheasant," she snapped back insolently as she released the arrow, making his ire rise.

"This is all you are getting so you are going to stop acting like a child and eat it," he said in a tone that brooked no refusal.

Her eyes flashed as she whipped around to face him. "I'm not acting like a ..." she suddenly trailed off, all of the fight going out of her and she lowered Kili's bow between them. "No, you're right. That was childish."

She went and sat down a few feet away on a low rock and rubbed a hand over her face. She looked wan and haggard, any natural beauty her face possessed being over shadowed by her pinched skin and the dark smudges under her eyes that spoke of many sleepless nights.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be a brat," she said, looking up at him with very wide eyes. "I'm just … tired."

He wordlessly sat down next to her and handed her the plate which she took with a sigh. "I've probably offended poor Bombur over the past few days, he is going to think I don't like his cooking," she added miserably as she picked at her food.

He supervised her eating every mouthful, watching her tear off tiny bites that she seemed to have to force herself to chew carefully and swallow. Despite having no utensils to eat, her table manners were very good, unlike most of the company.

He waited until her plate was empty before speaking again, which took a surprisingly long time. "While I admire your dedication, why are you so determined to practice at every opportunity?"

"It's a good distraction," she said, her eyes down on her plate. "I've also been thinking about what you said about me being a liability in Bree – I'm perfectly aware that we are not going to finish this quest without fighting orcs and goblins at least once. These skills could, and hopefully will save my life."

He inclined his head, thinking that it was good that she had some form of defence even though the company would do their best to keep her from harm in any fight. While she may need protecting he no longer saw her as a liability: she was an asset to their company with her knowledge.

"Nevertheless, you're exhausting yourself," he pointed out disapprovingly. "You will start alternating the nights you practice archery and sparring, that's an order."

"It's not the practising that tires me out." She gave him a very sad smile. "I'm not really sleeping well."

"You sleep like the dead most nights," he said, and indeed since leaving Rivendell she had taken to retiring before the rest of the company after finishing her rigorous training.

"That doesn't mean I sleep well."

"And that is why you need distracting," he deduced, realising that her sleep was plagued with nightmares. He hadn't noticed any disquiet in her slumber before Rivendell and he wondered if whatever the Elf-witch had shown her in the mirror was disturbing her sleep. "What haunts you?"

"Everything," she said softly, the word nearly inaudible. She suddenly stood, handing him back the empty plate and picking up Kili's bow again. "Thank you for bringing me food," she said, her gratitude genuine. She then resumed her previous position before her target and nocked another arrow, their conversation clearly at an end.


With Thorin's orders in mind, she had started alternating her nightly practices and forcing herself to eat dinner every night, knowing that her current habits were not healthy. The result of this was that she was no longer so tired when she went to bed, meaning that sleep took longer to come and the nightmares grew worse. She would wake up violently in the middle of the night and find herself unable to get back to sleep: whoever took the dawn watch had come to expect her rising before the sun and coming to sit quietly with them until dawn, whereupon she would practice a few drills with her sword while the camp stirred.

Her sword work was coming along nicely, though she still had yet to try it out against anyone – she had the feeling that if she sparred against anyone in the company (Bilbo excepted) that they would disarm her in two moves. A lot of the drills were rapidly becoming instinctual and she rather liked practising them in the morning, keeping her breathing regular as she slowly swung Naethring from position to position: it was almost like the yoga she had done one summer, only more deadly.

One night towards the end of their approach to the mountains she had had a particularly bad nightmare, bought on by the sick anticipation that their venture into Goblin-Town was now only scant days away. She had barely had two hours sleep before waking and joining Dori, who had only just started the second watch. The fussy Dwarf insisted on making her nettle-tea which she drank without complaint, grateful for the warmth as shivers racked her body.

Yet despite how little sleep she had gotten she was still determined to practice the following evening. Dwalin was teaching her a whole load of new drill-moves and she refused to finish until she had mastered all of them.

The result was that when she returned to the camp she was just as exhausted as she had been in the first week of travelling from Rivendell. She sat down next to Bifur, groaning and stretching her tired muscles.

How are you? Bifur signed, noticing her fatigue.

"I'm beat," she said wearily, and then noticed the confused look on the wild Dwarf's face. "It means tired. I think I'm just going to go to bed now."

Bifur grunted and signed no, which involved flicking the middle and index fingers down to meet the thumb.

"Why not?" she asked, stifling a yawn.

"Ablug."

"Ablug?" she repeated, not understanding the Khuzdul word. "What does that mean?"

Bifur pointed at Bombur and mimed eating.

"Food?" she guessed and he nodded. "Oh, okay," she said, remembering her promise to herself that she would at least try to eat dinner in the evenings - but she was fast asleep with her head on Bifur's shoulder long before the food was ready.


Thorin was taking the second watch that night, seated on a ridge a little above the camp that afforded him a view both down into the valley and up the path ahead, illuminated by the nearly full moon. There were still a few hours until dawn and the night was quiet save for the snoring of the company.

Sensing movement in the camp below him, he glanced down to see Miss Darrow stirring and sitting up in her sleeping bag. She had fallen asleep by the fire the previous night and had been carried to her makeshift bed by Bifur and Bofur. It was the first time he had seen her wake in the night though it was common knowledge around the company now that she didn't sleep well.

He watched silently as she stood up and looked across the camp to where Fili and Kili slept as if to make sure they were alright – this movement caused him to guess the cause of her night-time disquiet, it appeared that the Elven-lady had shown her something of their fate that was causing her nightmares.

She glanced around the rest of the camp, eventually locating him on the ridge. "Good morning," she said softly so as not to wake anyone.

"It is still night-time," he pointed out. "You should go back to sleep, Miss Darrow."

"I won't sleep anymore," she said, shaking her head. Even from the distance that separated them he heard a sudden faint growl and she pressed her hands to her stomach in a startled manner. "I'm starving," she said sheepishly by way of explanation.

"I am not surprised, you were asleep before dinner again last night," he said, disapproval colouring his tone.

"Not on purpose this time," she whispered back with a smile, a hint of the previous spark that Rivendell had taken away from her returning. "Is there anything left?"

He shook his head, their rations were running low and they had foolishly assumed she would be so tired that she would sleep until breakfast, whereupon she could eat then and so they hadn't saved her anything. "You will have to wait until breakfast, it is too early to light the fire."

She looked a little put out and then her expression abruptly brightened. She went rummaging around in her pack and them climbed up the ridge to join him, something small and rectangular in her hand. "Only just remembered I had these," she said as she sat down next to him, her legs dangling.

There was a faint rustling as she opened the packet: the bar inside seemed to be food of some sort since she broke off a generous portion and popped it into her mouth. "Want some?" she said, offering him the packet. "It's food from my world."

Taking it from her hand, he examined the packet curiously. It was something called a nutri-grain cereal bar and it smelt like apple and cinnamon. He cautiously broke off a small bit and tried it, pleasantly surprised at the sweet taste of the fruit purée and cake-like texture.

"Thank you," he said, handing the rest of it back to her – she needed the food more than he did.

They sat in silence for a while as she finished eating, simply looking out over the valley. The night was still very dark, though there was the faintest tinge of light just beginning to touch the sky in the east over the mountains.

All of a sudden, she gasped quietly beside him.

"What?" he asked with quiet urgency, thinking she had seen a threat, but her eyes were lifted to the sky.

"I can't believe I've only just noticed ..." she whispered in awe, still looking up.

Thorin followed her gaze but couldn't see what had her so enraptured – there was nothing but the moon and stars above them. "What is it, Miss Darrow?"

She turned to him with a bemused smile. "The stars here are the same as they are in my world," she said, raising her gaze once more. "It's a different world but it's still the same planet … somehow."

Thorin silently considered this: he had never really put much thought to exactly how this travelling between worlds business worked, but now that he thought about it there were several strange similarities. The fact that his quest was known and recorded implied some kind of link between worlds, as did their shared language. Now it also appeared that they shared the same constellations, despite the fact that their stars were kindled by the Valar; if he remembered rightly from her descriptions of her world from when their quest first started, no one in her world subscribed to this cosmology.

"Do you have names for the stars in your world?" he asked, intrigued by how far these similarities went.

"Umm, we call that the Plough, or the Big Dipper in America," she said, pointing at the Sickle of the Valar, one of the clearest constellations in the sky. Her finger then moved across to another bright, familiar cluster of stars. "And that's the Seven Sisters."

"We call that Durin's Crown, it is the emblem of our house," Thorin said softly, his eyes on the stars – long had that particular constellation held his attention on nights when he couldn't sleep, brooding over his quest and kingdom. He shook himself from his reverie. "Do you know any others?"

"No, never really learnt any astronomy," she replied. "I could probably name a handful of constellations but I couldn't identify them."

He named several more stars, pointing them out to her and telling their stories. She drank in his words and silence eventually fell between them as dawn approached. The sky was very red as the sun rose behind the Misty Mountains, indicating bad weather to come.

"Tomorrow we begin our ascent into the High Pass," he said, speaking for the first time in about an hour.

"Great, more climbing," Miss Darrow said, her voice tight.

Thorin turned to look at her, wondering the cause of her tension. "Do you know if these clouds will hold? A storm on the pass would be inconvenient."

She rolled her eyes slightly. "The book doesn't exactly detail things like weather, I'm not omnipotent," she said, mentioning the book for the first time since Rivendell.

He turned back to gaze out over the ridge. "Anything we should know to expect on the pass?" he asked. "There is always a danger of goblins in the mountain regions."

Had he been looking at her he would have seen her tense sharply. There was the slightest pause. "Nothing that springs instantly to mind," she said in a deceptively neutral tone – and having no reason to doubt her, Thorin believed her.


Thanks for all your lovely reviews, keep 'em coming guys!

Wow, I'm really starting to struggle to think of questions for you guys … um … what are you most looking forward to about the Desolation of Smaug?

Personally, I can't wait to see soaking wet Dwarves and Benedict Cumberbatch! Between Thorin, Thranduil and Smaug the next film is going to be an aural sensation!

You can follow updates, sneak peeks and ask any questions about the story or characters on my tumblr ~Kindle-the-Stars