CHAPTER 37

I went to sleep feeling nervous that night. Like the feeling you get when you have an exam the next day. The afternoon was leisurely – making sure my clothes and other possessions were clean and dry in preparation for our departure, and spending an indecent period of time in the bath, since hot water was soon to be a distant memory. Surely the Lonely Mountain would not have such facilities, and in any case, a live dragon lorded over the inner halls, so I'm sure hot baths were out of the question. Lame.

Kili had been absent all afternoon. Fili visited him in one of the guest rooms and told me he wasn't feeling well, but didn't wish to be disturbed. I knew something wasn't right, but it had only been a day - way too soon after his injury to have any kind of effect from infection, at least where Earth germs were concerned. In hindsight, I should have known better: Middle Earth was magical, and so it only made sense that weird, magical, micro-organismic shit existed.

So I'd packed my bag, ignoring the layer of debris in the bottom from my doctor days back on Earth, and went to bed early, guts squirming for a new reason other than my uber hot husband-to-be, who bathed then dried himself vigorously, skin bathed in orange firelight. My god effing Mahal…

The best part was, the uber hot guy with braids in his hair came and snuggled up to me in bed. Aw, yis.

'I'm a bit surprised, Fili...' I started in the dark.

'Surprised about what?' He mumbled, lips grazing my neck.

'That you haven't insisted that I stay behind, where it's sure to be safe.'

'I am not so sure that this place is safe,' he answered quietly. 'In any case, we shall not be parted from each other now, except for when I go to battle.' He said it with a smile in his voice, but it still made my guts clench uncomfortably. I wondered whether I'd ever get over it, the fear.

So I changed the subject. 'You're a lot different within yourself, you know. When we met at Bag End you were…I don't know…you seemed more care-free than you are now. You walked all over the kitchen table, you skulled ale, you flung Bilbo's crockery everywhere, you sang and danced…'

He chuckled. 'Yes, it's true. I think the closer we get to the Mountain the more I think I need to behave like Uncle's heir, to show him that being his heir, and this quest, seriously.'

I didn't know what to say to that. It seemed like a burden that wasn't necessary.

He seemed to read my mind. 'I'm doing it for Uncle, Bonnie. This is the quest of his life. I still like having fun, and I want to have a whole lot more fun with you. But it will be a miracle if we all survive this…'

I clutched on to him just a little tighter at that point, almost wishing that he did knock me up – just in case he was killed, there would be something of him left behind.

You know how people say that pessimists' cups are half-empty? Well mine was totally empty.

And so we fell silent, listening to the hooting and hollering of the rest of the company on the floor below as they all got maggot drunk while they still could. Honestly, the night before we have to reach the Mountain and find a door, a door whose true location no living soul knew. Tsk…

For such a comfortable bed, my night's sleep was crap. I dreamed of fire and bloody, blackened flesh. Perhaps it was an omen, but hopefully not. I awoke early, before the sunrise, a thin layer of sweat on my face. I looked across to Fili, still very much alive, and still peacefully ensconced in the depths of the Land of Nod. Nothing phased him.

I got up, sitting in my nightgown at a table beside the fire and watched the embers. My mind cast back to the first night in Mirkwood, the look on Fili's face just before he kissed me for the first time now the fondest of memories. And despite my fear of the next leg of the quest, I found myself smiling, for a moment at least.

I'm sure fear is a useless emotion. I've heard people speak of harnessing it, turning it around and using it to your advantage, but I never really understood that. How can you harness something that paralyses you? There was something else – something that people who can overcome fear use, but it wasn't fear itself.

Fili was one of those people. Maybe his 'antidote' to fear was experience; the thing that allows you to become brave in battle. My fear was not of dying or getting hurt, but having those close to me die or get hurt, and I'm sure experience would be just as useless at dealing with it as the fear of it in the first place.

I took a deep breath through my nose and slumped in the chair, arms folded. This is why I really miss wacky-tabacky, because then my brain is numb and I don't think about this shit.

Oh my god, what if Elrond was wrong and this trip to Middle Earth is just one, big existential crisis that I'm having whilst comatose in the intensive care unit after having my head smashed in by a bus bumper? Is it even real?

Fuck.

Shut up, brain.

Fili stirred, and it was possibly the only thing that could have pulled me back out of that angsty reverie. I almost ran back to bed, jumped in and wrapped myself around him. As long as I was near him, I was safe, including from my own thoughts.

Oh dear lord, this is not healthy.

We got up not long after, silently dressing and packing the last of our things. Breakfast was subdued and hasty, and I sat in the corner eating bread and cheese and feeling quite disgusted at the state of the dining room after the unruly party of last night. Bofur still slept soundly underneath the table. No wonder men and elves hate having dwarrows as dinner guests: Recalcitrant teenage alcoholics in stout, hairy bodies. No wonder their chief medical complaint is gout.

We gathered on the threshold. Thorin turned to face us, looking regal in his new clothes and armour, and smiled gently, placing a hand each on Fili and Kili's shoulder.

'Come, it is time.' He said simply, in his voice, the most incredible of voices, the one that resonates straight through you and makes you feel all tingly. Definitely a king.

The whole of Laketown had turned up to farewell us, including the Master, who was wearing the most ridiculous of hats that looked like it was trying to be crown but just wasn't quite cutting it. That should give you some idea into his personality, anyway.

Laketown had provided us with a rowboat, decked out with supplies and large enough to fit us all with ease. Fili helped me in before jumping in himself. Kili made to board the boat, but Thorin stopped him. It was then that I noticed just how sick Kili was, and just how much of that he had, desperately and successfully, kept from us. That's when the alarm bells inside my medical mind started ringing.

I didn't hear the exchange between Thorin and Kili, but Fili started forward. 'Uncle, we grew up on tales of the Mountain. Tales you told us. You cannot take that away from him. I will carry him if I must.'

Oh no, this isn't going to end well.

Thorin's response was actually quite sensible, I thought. Kili looked like shit and probably would slow us down, and it wasn't worth missing our opportunity to get into the Mountain. Not to mention there was no healers or healing herbs or anything helpful at all, for that matter, in either Esgaroth or Erebor.

Oin jumped out of the boat, muttering 'my duty lies with the wounded.'

Wait, I'm a healer too, what about my duty?

Fili looked pained, and suddenly launched himself out of the boat and back onto the wharf. My stomach dropped what felt like a good few feet as he wordlessly and without a backward glance, decided to part from me.

Thorin caught his arm. 'Fili, don't be a fool. You belong with the company.'

'I belong with my brother.' He retorted, before adding, 'we belong with our brother.' And he looked at me, holding out his hand.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little irked at not being given the choice, but I wouldn't have chosen any differently. However, I didn't really care, because that was when I fell head over heels in love with Fili, and when I understood what the real difference between him and Thorin was – that for Fili, family trumps quests.

We didn't get to say goodbye to the rest of the company. So there we stopped, on the wharf, listening to the Master farewell the others, and then the departing boat was serenaded by a band of men playing their naff collection of brass instruments.

That's the word for Laketown. Naff.

Ugh, I couldn't resist one last calm before the storm. Review if it pleases you!