Author's Note: Hi everyone! Hope you've all had a lovely weekend. I would like to thank Guest45 for their lovely review, reviews like yours make the writing experience so much better! This one's for you; enjoy!

Chapter thirteen: Durin's sons

The next morning they had set off again at first light. The Dwarves were grouchy – grouchier than usual, that is – and there was little conversation exchanged that morning. It was nearing noon, and they had stopped for a quick lunch while their Elven guide was searching for the road, when Thorin at last approached her.

'Gloín did not wake me for my watch tonight.'

'That was my fault,' she responded, rather unapologetically, without looking up from what she was doing – which, as far as Thorin could see, consisted of pushing aside fallen leaves in arbitrary places with a gnarly stick.

'Yes, I reached that conclusion.. However, I do not believe I asked you to take the watch.'

This made Ardhoniel look up, her pale eyebrows raised a little as she regarded him. As she spoke, her face was deceitfully expressionless. 'I could not sleep.'

He sighed, running a hand over his tired face. 'It is this damned forest,' he muttered, remembering his own troubled dreams of that night. 'I cannot wait until we leave it behind us.'

The She-Elf did not respond immediately. However, suddenly the corners of her lips lifted and she beamed, rather enthusiastically: 'Ah, I have found it!'

And so they continued once more. The going was slow, every now and then – and increasingly so – having to stop to check that they were still on the Elven path. By the end of the day, it was impossible to tell whether they had covered three miles, or thirty. As the last light beneath the trees started to fade, though, it certainly felt like the latter, and then some, and Ardhoniel was more than glad to tuck into a piece of dried meat and bread. She was done pathfinding for the day.

As she ate, the Elleth was again struck by the utter silence that lay on the forest like a blanket. During the day she had been too busy to notice, but in the dark, the quiet was near suffocating. Unnatural, she could not help but think, and a shiver ran down her spine. In all her years, she had never experienced anything quite like it. Something about the forest was very, very wrong.

'… Miss Elf?'

She looked up at the sound of her unofficial title, and was surprised to find that Thorin, Balin and Dwalin were sitting but a few feet from her – and were staring at her in expectation. 'Pardon me?'

'The path,' Balin supplied helpfully, a friendly smile on his face. 'We were wondering if you could give us an estimate of how far along we are? How many more days until we reach the other edge of the forest.'

'Oh, I…' She only now noticed the three Dwarves were bowed over a map of Middle-Earth. Moving closer, Ardhoniel peered at the scaled representation of Mirkwood in thought.

Truthfully, she had no idea how long the trek should take them – even in the event that she would have led them through the forest without having to stop every fifteen minutes to see which way the path would meander off to next. She knew they were yet to pass the enchanted river Gandalf had warned her about, which should be close to the Halls of the Elvenking Thranduil near the other end of the forest. However, even following her most optimistic calculations, she did not believe they would cross that river before the day after tomorrow.

'Well?' It was Dwalin and even without looking, she knew he was staring at her suspiciously. Throughout the journey, he had been watching her closely; weighing, measuring. She knew he did not trust her – and of any of the Company, was closest to putting the pieces together.

'We should be able to reach the other end of the forest within a week's time,' she spoke at last, her voice even and steady – and betraying none of her own tiredness, worries, and uncertainties.

'A week?!'

Before she could take a deep breath and approach the situation a little more reasonably (and sensibly), in her exhausted state the words passing her lips were heavily influenced by annoyance and it was all she could do not to shout them at the Dwarf: 'Have you looked at this map anytime recently, Master Dwalin? We spent a little under two weeks on the road since we left Rivendell to get to this point – and that includes the distance that we spent riding on the back of giant Eagles! You can grumble and you can complain to me all you want. However, I can assure you that will not make our way any shorter.'

She dropped her spoon in the now empty bowl and turned abruptly. Passing Bombur, she handed it to him and thanked him in a polite, but clipped voice for the meal. Then, she seated herself between Bifur and Bofur with a deep sigh. Pulling up her long legs, she rested her head on her knees heavily. Ardhoniel was just about to rest her tired eyes when Bifur sprouted off something decidedly unhappy sounding in Khuzdul.

'Says it's too quiet here. Misses the sounds of the birds in the trees, of the hazes and foxes in the undergrowth, he says,' Bofur explained, even before she had a chance to ask.

'I agree full heartedly with you, Master Bifur,' she mumbled and closed her eyes for a moment. 'Believe me when I say I want to leave this forest behind me just as much as any of you do.'

It was silent for a moment and she wondered if Bifur had even comprehended her response in the Common Tongue. It took one glance to the left to confirm that he had at least grasped the gist of it, for he bowed his head to her in what could have only been understanding.

As Thorin handed his own stew bowl back to Bombur, he could not keep his eyes from drifting to the She-Elf that had sat herself by the other two Ur family members. After her outburst, he wasn't sure whether to scold her for her disrespect towards Dwalin, or apologize to her for the behaviour of the Dwarf in question – and ended up doing neither. After all, the Elven lady was not the only one exhausted from their long day walking through the forest. So instead, Thorin settled against a moss-covered rock just left of the path and laid out his Elven sword across his lap. He was about to take out a whetstone when something his nephew said caught his attention.

'So… did anyone else have strange dreams last night?'

Thorin's mind flashed back to his own dreams for a second time that day. However, this time there was little to distract him from the disturbing images. He had dreamt of Frerin that night, like he had on many nights before. However, that night he had not relived the Battle of Azanulbizar like he did on most nights that his mind brought him back to the horrors of his past, that night he had not watched his brother, barely on the cusp of adulthood, die a painful death. Yet, in a sense last night's dream had even been worse – and had left him shaken long after he woke up.

In his dream, Thorin had found himself out in Mirkwood by twilight. Only, the forest looked nothing like he remembered. Here, the leaves on the trees had been green, the barks brown and healthy, and he could hear the sounds of little animals passing in the undergrowth. He had been alone, wearing only his boots, breeches and tunic, and only for a moment did he wonder about the fate of his companions. Something told him to walk the path that lay before him and so Thorin had followed the moss-covered yellow bricks that dotted the forest floor.

He had not known for how long he travelled the path, but suddenly night had fallen in the forest and he'd found that, with nightfall, the world around him had changed. Where there had been life, now there were only greyed, sickened and dead trees that reached up to the skies with skeletal limbs. All had gone quiet in the forest and he had shivered as a small breeze passed beneath the trees. Over his shoulder, Thorin could still catch sight of the forest as it had been, and he had taken a step towards it.

A creaking sound had caused him to look down, to find that the forest floor was now covered in dead leaves, twigs and what appeared to be the bones of small animals. At the same time, a painfully familiar voice had called to him.

'You cannot turn back, nadad.'

Thorin's head had whipped up, to find Frerin standing at the edge of the treeline to his right. The younger Durin had been dressed in an outfit that mirrored his own, with a simple tunic and breeches, but somehow the colours were off. The clothing had looked flat and pale, as if washed one too many times. What was more, the younger Durin himself looked different from the last time Thorin had seen him.

The Frerin in front of him was no longer a young Dwarfling, with a youthful face and only the beginnings of a beard. Instead, his brother had seemed as if he'd finally grown into his full breadth. He'd had broad shoulders, thick arms, and a full beard. What's more, there had been lines in his face, around his mouth, in the corners of his eyes, that Thorin was certain had not been there before, and his brother's blonde hair had now been streaked with the same grey that he knew graced his own dark mane. This Frerin… it was not the younger brother that he had lost in the Battle of Azanulbizar.

It was his brother if he had survived.

'Frerin, you… it can't be.'

He had taken a step closer to his younger brother, those familiar blue eyes fixing him with an impenetrable look.

'You cannot turn back,' Frerin had repeated, and Thorin was suddenly reminded of the green forest that lay behind him. 'You have chosen your path and now you must see it through.'

Thorin had frowned in confusion. 'We will only follow the Elven path until we reach the other end of the forest, Frerin. After that…'

'Your path will lead you to the mountain but not to kingship. You will perish, Thorin Oakenshield, you and all of your kin.' As those last words left Frerin's lips, and Thorin felt his grip on the dream slip away, he had seen his brother's eyes glint red like fire in the night. Like the eyes of a dragon.

'… of a great feast in the middle of the forest.'

'So what was your dream about, laddie?' Balin's kind voice called Thorin back to reality.

'I eh… don't remember. Just that it was something strange.' As he said this, Kíli's ears turned red and the young Dwarfling – that suddenly reminded Thorin all too much of his own younger brother – look down embarrassedly. The subject was soon dropped after this.

Author's Note: So, what do you think about Thorin's dream? Do you think there's any meaning to it - or do you think it's just the forest's influence on his mind? Also, what do you think Kíli dreamt about? Let me know your thoughts in a review! (;