Chapter 38

Survival

Thráin had warned me that the Lady Galadriel could speak from one mind to another, which was something the book conveniently forgot to mention. It had warned me about her mind tricks, but not this one in particular. So she greeted me and called me by my name before I had ever introduced myself. She bid me welcome to her land and assured me that I would be safe here and that I would have the time to rest and recover.

So far, so good. I knew she would test us all later, but had been unable to imagine how that was going to take place, so even though I had advance warning, the whole thing took me by surprise. There were thoughts in my head that did not originate with me, that whispered how good it would be to be home, to get Harry and go back to England, where we belonged. And she made it seem as though she could grant that wish if I chose it, that nobody would even hold it against me. Truth be told, I think she could have made it happen if she wanted to.

And I wanted it. I wanted what she offered with all my heart, even more so because I was convinced that Galadriel could give it to me. The longing became so strong that it was almost a physical ache. I was even close to giving in and the moment I realised where that had led me, I felt ashamed of myself.

But it was only what I wanted, not what I would do. The realisation took a little while to catch up with me, but it did. I had made a promise. In this world, they literally meant the world. A person's whole reputation could stand or fall with how they treated their promises. And I had made a promise. There was no getting around that. I had set my terms to Gandalf and when he had agreed to them, I had given him my word that I would do as he asked. And later, when Thráin and I had told Boromir about what fate had in store for him, I had made another promise. So that brought the total up to two. I was bound to the quest more tightly than any of the others save Frodo and perhaps Sam.

It was a startling revelation.

But now that I had reached that conclusion, I could not ignore it. Up until that moment I had not been fully committed. I had merely tagged along. Events had happened to me, but all things told, Thráin had taken a firmer hand in getting things done than I had. Throughout the whole ordeal of Moria he was the one who came up with all the ideas. Even now, he was more or less in charge and on some points, even Aragorn deferred to his judgement. He was the one most of our companions went to for advice.

It hadn't bothered me before, but it started then. I had been employed as an advisor and I had been useless at it. The Kate in my dream had told me it was because I thought remaining detached was a strength. It turned out to be my greatest weakness. Because I had failed to invest emotionally I had not become an integral part of the group. Of course I had my chores and I interacted friendly enough with everyone, but I was close to no one. How could I ever get things done that way? How would I ever make anyone listen if they didn't know me well enough to trust me?

I needed to do better.

That started with closer observation, in this case of Thráin. I was still within earshot when he asked his question of Celeborn about his homeland. He had never given so much of an indication that he was worried and this only proved we weren't communicating nearly enough, because I'd had no idea. Come to think of it, I had no idea of a lot of things that were going on with him.

But at least he now knew that his brothers were both still alive…

Thoren

Something smelled.

Thoren's entire body ached. It begged for him to seek refuge again in sleep, but the smell kept dragging him back to the surface. It was strong and penetrating and clearly omnipresent. Thoren had attempted to turn his head in another direction – he quickly found he really shouldn't do that – but it was there as well.

So he tried to open his eyes, to see what was causing it. Maker knew that Thráin's socks were smelly, but this was worse than even that. He tried to bury his nose in his tunic and go back to sleep. He couldn't remember if he had ever been so tired.

'No, love, don't go back to sleep, not now.' He knew that voice. Thoren blinked and he could swear he saw his mother standing there. 'Help is on its way. Don't sleep.'

'You are dead,' he said. Then he realised as his memory returned with a vengeance: 'So am I.' Odd thing though. He reckoned there wouldn't be so much pain in the afterlife.

But surely he must be dead. He remembered vividly that he had been taken up into the sky by the fell beast of the Nazgûl and that he had stabbed it. He had fallen afterwards. This was where his memory became unreliable. Most of it was missing, but he remembered he had done some crawling and that he had hidden behind some obliging statues while the battle still raged.

It was only now that some clarity returned to him that he recalled there had been no statues on that field.

The outline of the late Queen under the Mountain was blurry, but he could have sworn she smiled. 'You're not, Thoren. You're still alive. But you're hurt and in need of help. And you must stay awake.'

Thoren shook his head and regretted it instantly; the pain was so overwhelming he almost blacked out. 'No, you're here. And you are dead.'

He still couldn't really see right; the only thing he could see quite clearly was her red hair and there was something different about her voice when she spoke: 'No, we both yet live.'

Thoren frowned. She had just said something else. 'Amad?'

A hand was placed on his brow. 'I am Tauriel,' she said.

Thoren blinked and this time his vision cleared. It was his elvish friend before him and not his mother. 'Tauriel?' He had been so sure it was his mother he had seen. Had he or had he only imagined it? After all, they both had red hair. Other than that they looked nothing alike.

She crouched beside him, hand still on his forehead. 'You have been gravely injured,' she informed him. She removed her hand and held a water skin in front of him. 'Here, you should drink.'

He was very thirsty and so he drank. Tauriel had to help him, because he found that he was too weak to sit up straight. His sense of time was skewed; he had no idea how much time had elapsed since he had fallen.

Fortunately his friend explained before he could ask. 'The battle raged for three days before it was lost. We have searched for two nights and two days for you ever since.'

Five days. Those were five whole days that he had very little memory of. Those were also five days in which he had lain wounded on a field of battle and yet he had lived to tell the tale.

'Your Maker must smile upon you,' Tauriel remarked, who had seemingly followed his line of thought. 'We had given up all hopes of finding you alive. Careful now.'

Thoren shook his head in the hopes of driving away some mental cobwebs; the success was limited. 'We?'

'You would not think we would leave you behind, did you?' She looked up. 'And you have been very lucky. These trolls may have been your salvation.'

He must be hurt worse than he had thought; none of her words were making any sense. 'Trolls?' He tried to move and once again regretted that almost immediately.

Tauriel smiled at last. 'When the Nazgûl died, their hold over the weather broke and the sun broke through. All their trolls were turned to stone where they stood.'

'Good.'

'I must see to your wounds,' she informed him. 'And I must inform the others. It does not appear that you are bleeding, Valar be praised, so I shall find them first. Do you agree?'

Thoren managed a nod. He may not be bleeding, but he feared that many of his bones were broken, including a fair number of his ribs. Dwarves may be made to endure much, but Mahal had not made them to be thrown onto the ground from a great height. If he wanted my people to take to the air, he would have given us wings. Evidently, that had not been his intent.

The more of his consciousness returned, the more he began to feel of what had been done to him. The left side of his body seemed to have come off worst; there was barely a finger he could lift on that side without wanting to scream. He must have landed on it when he fell. He ought to thank Mahal that he hadn't broken his neck or cracked open his skull on impact.

Tauriel disappeared and Thoren leaned back against the troll's leg. There appeared to be three of them, forming a little circle. He must have crawled into the middle and had been left in peace there. Then again, the orcs must have believed that he was dead and so had not bothered.

He wasn't left in peace long; Tauriel re-emerged with Narvi and Nori at her back. On second inspection all three of them looked like something the cat had dragged in: dirty and covered in blood and other unidentifiable substances.

'I'm more used to any of my four other nephews in trouble,' Nori commented. 'Bless my beard, lad, you look like death itself.' Battles couldn't make a dent in his good humour.

Thoren would have chuckled, but remembered the state of his ribs just in time to stop himself. 'Good to see you.'

Narvi was more solemn. 'We cannot stay here,' he said. 'The orcs have not gone far.'

And in this lay their problem, because Thoren was sure that he could not walk. It would have made sense for the others to leave while they still could, but that was not the dwarvish way. And it seemed it was not Tauriel's way either; he recalled that she told him the search had gone on for two days.

He knew he had not erred in his judgement when he named her a true friend.

Tauriel nodded her agreement. 'I shall see if I can go and find a cart when I am done here,' she said. 'I can move around quickly and quietly and shall not be seen. We must not linger here too long.'

'No,' Nori said. 'You can patch my nephew up and I shall find the cart.' He grinned in Thoren's direction. 'I am very light on my feet, I've been told.'

'Not by me,' Thoren said. He remembered one time when Duria and he had to go and steal a pony for Nori so that Nori could go and rescue Thráin in Gondor. And the way Thráin had told it, Nori had very nearly messed up the whole thing.

Narvi frowned and Tauriel too was doubtful. 'Be that as it may,' she said, 'you are no elf and do not have the same quickness of movement.'

Nori nodded. 'True. But there is one advantage I have over the rest of you, my fair friend of the unfortunately coloured hair.' He proudly patted his own unremarkably brown hair. 'Don't worry, I shall find you what you need.'

He disappeared while Tauriel was still speechless.

Thoren took the opportunity to ask some questions of his own: 'How many dead?' he asked. It was as much to get information as to distract himself. Tauriel was taking off his armour and it was a painful experience.

'Many,' Narvi replied. 'Beyond count.'

'The same is true for our foes,' Tauriel added. 'They have no more trolls and two of their wraiths are dead.' That meant she must have killed the other one too. He had suspected as much, but being in mortal danger had shifted his attention towards himself. 'On the last day two wraiths returned and they brought many orcs with them. We could not hold them then.'

The battle had lasted for three days and Thoren had not ever dared to hope for so long.

'What was left of our forces retreated back to Erebor,' Narvi continued. 'King Thranduil gave the order when the lines could no longer be held.'

Thranduil was taking responsibility lately and in this matter Thoren trusted him to do the right thing. He had as much to lose as the dwarves if this went wrong and he had the same motivation as Thoren had: to see one of his family succeed in destroying the One Ring. Whatever else Thoren's opinion about the elf, he was sure Thranduil would not fail him in this.

'You have many bones that are broken,' Tauriel reported. Thoren had reached much the same conclusion from her prodding, however gently, at his ribs. 'You will be in considerable discomfort when we travel.'

'You said yourself we cannot remain here for much longer,' Thoren reminded her. 'I shall bear it.' He was too pleased to find that there was still breath in his body to worry over much about the pain that came with it. He had not honestly expected to see the end of the battle, yet here he was.

Tauriel busied herself with tending to his injuries, which were many. Thoren drank some more and Narvi gave him some food. Thoren wasn't really hungry, but if he did not eat he would not regain his strength. And he would need it. He'd suffered numerous scratches and shallow cuts that would heal in time, but that was where the good news ended. Tauriel declared that five ribs were broken and a further three were merely bruised. His left arm had fractured in three separate places and his shoulder was dislocated. His left leg had a fracture just below the knee and another near the ankle. There also was a nasty cut that ran from his forehead to just below his shoulder that she needed to stitch.

It was not encouraging.

'You have been very lucky,' she said, while she was stitching. That was very likely a deliberate action, as he was not allowed to speak. Nor did he want to with that needle mere inches from his eye. 'You have inherited your father's blood indeed.' She smiled. 'But let us hope that you have not also inherited his tendency to ignore the advice of the healers, who only mean well.'

Thoren did not have any particular patience for idleness, but he was realistic enough to know that he would not be walking anywhere anytime soon.

'That can't be helped,' Nori said. His uncle had reappeared from behind a troll without any of them noticing. 'Het gets it from his mother's side as well.' The smile disappeared. 'There's good and bad news. The good news is that I have located a cart and even a pony to pull it.'

Narvi frowned. 'And the bad news?'

'There are orcs not too far off and I think they've seen me.'

Well, so much for Uncle Nori's self-proclaimed legendary stealth.

Tauriel's head snapped up. 'How many?'

'A dozen of them,' Nori reported promptly. 'All of them scouring the battlefield, in search of food, I should think.'

What little appetite Thoren had was now gone. He knew full well what orcs liked to eat. And judging by the smell there had been many dead who'd been left behind. He could only hope that their bodies were too far gone for the orcs' taste, to at least be spared that humiliation. It was bad enough that they had not been given a proper burial. At least the dead of Azanulbizar had been burned. These folk would not have even that dignity.

Tauriel's concern was for the living. 'That should not be hardship,' she judged. 'We have an easy position to defend here. We must deal with this filth and then leave as soon as we are able.'

Thoren nodded. 'Give me a weapon,' he demanded.

Nori snorted. 'Sorry, my lad, but you are not helping today.'

Like he did not know that. 'Not to fight,' he snapped irritably. 'But I should like to at least be armed.' There was little wrong with his right arm. He could still deal a blow, provided it wasn't above knee height.

And all dwarves understood that. It was better to go down fighting than to be taken down cowering behind walls. Narvi reached down and handed him his sword. 'We found it on the field yesterday morning, but you were nowhere near it,' he said.

It felt good to have it in his hands again. Orcrist had come to him on his father's death and though there were some who whispered that it was inappropriate for the King under the Mountain to wield a blade of elvish make, Thoren was glad to have it. It had never failed him yet and he would have been grieved to learn that it was lost.

Nori tugged a small dagger out of his boot and handed that to him. 'It's not your fancy elvish sword, but I daresay you'll get more use out of it in close quarters.' Thoren was grateful for that as well. It would serve him better.

There was no point in hiding; the orcs already knew where they were. Tauriel still had her bow and a collection of arrows found on the battlefield. She shot with deadly accuracy and at least three orcs fell before they came through the opening.

Once they did, shooting them became impossible. They were too close and the orcs were everywhere. Thoren would have crouched away and out of sight and had he had any other hair colour he might have succeeded, because daylight was fading fast. But in this Nori had made an astute observation; red hair stood out.

The first orc that came at him – and this new breed that had come out of Mordor was worryingly tall and strong – was struck down by Narvi, who cut out his legs from under him, which enabled Thoren to deal the killing blow to the heart once it was down. Thoren never hesitated, pulled the dagger out and applied it with some force to the foot of another orc who'd set his sights on Nori. The cry of pain alerted his uncle and he finished it off.

That was where his luck ended. He was pulled up and felt a knife against his throat. 'Lay down your arms or I'll cut his throat.' The orc was behind him and he smelled. His very breath turned Thoren's stomach.

He struggled, but in vain. A new-born would have had more strength.

Only Narvi and Nori were in his line of sight and he could see the dilemma. Thoren meant to tell them to go ahead and keep fighting. His life was forfeit either way. He could not fight now and he refused to let anyone go down with him.

'Don't,' he said.

There was no need to say more, because the knife fell from the orc's grasp as the orc himself fell down like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Another voice spoke: 'He is under my protection, filth.'

Tauriel caught him before he could hit the ground. Embarrassing though it was, he could not stand on his own. The pain shot up his leg and made him groan. It didn't help matters when Tauriel's hands touched the place of his broken ribs.

'I apologise,' she said.

Thoren snorted. 'Do not apologise for saving my life,' he told her. 'I owe you a great debt.'

She set him down so that he could see her smile. 'I merely repaid the favour you did me and for which you paid such a great price,' she replied. 'And I am sorry that you should now suffer because of it.'

'Don't be.' Thoren was glad to be sitting. The effort of standing, even for so short a time, caused him to pant and sweat all over. 'You saved my life before that. I owed you one.'

Nori broke it up. 'Very touching,' he commented in a tone that conveyed the opposite. 'Shall we work out who owes what to whom while we are on the road? Only I heard you two saying we should be gone from this place. Then let's be gone.'

There was a great deal of sense in that.

But Nori was not quite done. 'You can bicker like an old married couple to your heart's content when there are no more orcs to hear you.'

'Who died and put you in charge?' Thoren grumbled.

'You've been relieved of your command until you can walk without the aid of a stick,' Nori informed him. He crouched down next to Thoren and offered him his arm. 'Come on, lad, the cart's not far.'

Thoren nodded and braced himself for the pain. They needed to leave.

This place was no longer for the living.

Beth

It had been relatively simple to decide that she needed to be more involved, but it was another story entirely translating that into action, Beth found. Well, finding that she had fallen short of the mark had not been a good experience; she had always been a perfectionist. But knowing that she had been in the wrong did not provide her with a way to make amends.

Though she had been with this Fellowship since its beginning and she had at one point been content with her place in it, now she felt like an outsider, someone who did not really belong. She had intended it that way.

But I should belong, she thought on the morning following their second night in Caras Galadhon. At least for the duration of the quest.

Of course, that was where the old dilemma reared its ugly head. She had seen what getting involved had done to Kate. She had become so tangled in Middle Earth, its politics and its people – one person in particular – and in the end she couldn't have gone back home even if she wanted it. Beth did not want to follow in Kate's footsteps.

'You are deep in thought.' Boromir's arrival startled her.

Beth nodded. 'I am, I guess.'

It was as if someone was giving her a sign. It said something along the lines of now that you have started taking this seriously at last, here is your first assignment, good luck. It wasn't subtle. But she couldn't blame Thráin for this – he was sparring with Aragorn a little distance away – or Gandalf.

'I don't fit in,' she said before she could change her mind. 'I'm not from this world. I don't know how to behave and how to be. On top of that, I am the only woman in a group full of men.' She saw him take a breath to correct her and amended: 'Male beings. Whatever.'

'None of us belong in this group,' Boromir pointed out. 'We are all far from home in the company of people we barely know.'

Beth mulled that over. 'Suppose so.' The hobbits all knew one another, Thráin knew practically everyone, but most of them were at least somewhat out of their depth. 'It's just… I know I made promises, but I also thought I could remain separated from… all of this.' She made a wide arm gesture meant to encompass all of Middle Earth and its many troubles. 'Kate didn't and look how she ended up.'

One corner of Boromir's mouth curled up. 'She was the Queen under the Mountain, was she not? She was a legend even during her lifetime.'

Beth grimaced; that hadn't been what she meant, not exactly anyway. 'No, she didn't belong anywhere anymore. I've read her letters, you know. She didn't feel like she fit in here and how could she? This world and my world are too different. But when all was said and done and she got in too deep, she couldn't have belonged back in England anymore either. She'd changed too much.' Never mind the consequences when she would have come back home unable to explain where she had been all that time. 'And I don't want that to happen to me.'

Boromir did not understand. 'You do not seem so different from when I first met you.'

I am not. And at the same time I've already changed so much. 'Because I was trying to stay detached,' she explained. 'I thought that was a good idea.' Kate had told her otherwise, but she hadn't listened. 'But it's not working. If I am going to do what I am supposed to be doing, I can't do it from the outside.'

This, it seemed, was something he understood, because he nodded. 'You cannot lead if you do not know your troops.' Well, he would think of it like that.

'Is that how you do it?'

Boromir nodded. 'I know their names and stories, if they serve under me. I share meals with them when possible, a drink or two. You trade stories and jokes. You learn to trust them as they learn to trust you.' He became a little more serious. 'You cannot expect them to fight and die for a stranger.'

Beth did not quite like where this was going. 'I am not your captain and our companions are hardly my troops,' she pointed out.

'Yet Gandalf chose you to lead us,' Boromir countered.

That wasn't true. 'That's what Aragorn and Thráin are for.'

Naturally he had a retort for that as well. 'There is more than one way to lead. Aragorn and Thráin know the land. They know what roads to take and what roads to avoid. We rely on them for that. In my land, that is what scouts and Rangers do. They don't do the strategic planning.'

'No, that's your job where you are from, right?' In a way, he had been doing her job for a lot longer than she. And for him the stakes were higher. Perhaps that was what inspired him to give it his all. Beth had no such motivation. And that is what I am missing, she realised. I miss proper motivation.

If there was a book that she was going to write, she'd always have plenty. There was a mystery in need of solving and, if the writing itself got difficult, there was a deadline to consider with unpleasant consequences if she missed it. But here, there was nothing on the line for her, not personally. What was it to her if one life was lost, if some scheme didn't turn out the way she had intended? It was all the same in the end. As long as the Ring was destroyed in the end, she got to go home at the end of it all. And it would probably be destroyed anyway, with or without her help.

There's nothing to motivate me. There hadn't been for Kate either until she emotionally involved herself and there suddenly was a personal stake in it. That was the point where she had really begun to make an effort instead of just begging to be sent home. She was bloody right after all, damn her. Beth had never wanted her to be.

She'd felt so superior, back in Rivendell, had been so confident that nothing could ever force her into what Kate had become. And here she was, in Lothlórien, forced to face the fact that her way wasn't working.

'It has been for many years,' Boromir confirmed. He didn't sound like he was very happy with it.

'You must be good at it,' Beth remarked. 'Gondor is still there after all and the way I hear it, it's not for lack of trying on Sauron's part.'

'He has been trying very hard for many years.' Boromir didn't look at her, his thoughts miles away. He had bouts of this before. In his place she'd probably worry too. This was nothing like Earth, where you could just find out what was happening on the other side of the world right now as long as you had an Internet connection. He'd had no news since his departure from home and that must be six months ago. It was only logical that he worried.

'At least you know what you're doing.' But in his own way he had helped her to see things clearer. She understood her job better now.

Boromir frowned. 'If you do not, why did Gandalf choose you for this task?'

Beth considered not telling him, but she was building some sort of rapport with him and wasn't that what she was supposed to be doing? 'Gandalf thinks I have some special resistance to the lure of the Ring,' she replied after a short silence. 'He thinks that because Kate knew what it was and never wanted it in spite of that, I should be the same because we are related.'

Boromir considered this and nodded. 'Do you?' he asked.

Beth shrugged. 'I don't know. I think Kate knew very well that it could do nothing for her, that the whole thing was pure evil. I don't believe she would have touched it with a ten foot pole. I don't think it wants to go after people who know better.' She had seen it and had been unaffected.

'So it has not tempted you?'

Beth did not like the tone and the way the question was phrased. 'No. Has it tempted you?'

Damn and blast. She had hoped just warning him would be enough. Evidently, it wasn't. Honestly, while she had the opportunity for a chat with Kate she should have asked how to combat madness and power-hungry jewellery. Never mind the whole advising job she had. That was easy in comparison with this.

But you promised. And so she couldn't just run off and let him do all of this by himself or leave the whole business to Thráin. He had enough on his plate, even if she didn't know what it was. A thought occurred to her then. Is the Ring tempting him? Is that why he's so closed off and secretive lately?

She resolved to have a chat with him soon.

'Yes.' The answer took a minute, but at least it was honest. 'It has.'

Now what to do? Information obtained, but Beth wouldn't know how to sort this out. 'How badly?'

'I am in control.' The answer was decisive and confident. 'But it keeps putting thoughts in my head that are not mine. I know better.'

Beth wondered if there was ever a documented case of the Ring forcing somebody to do anything. She didn't find any conclusive cases. All she knew was that the Ring's will was strong and that it could blind someone to reason. But she didn't think it could control someone's body to perform certain acts without their consent.

'That's good, I think,' she said. She shared her thoughts on autonomy and the Ring's actual powers with him. 'As long as you know, with every fibre of your being, that taking it is not a good move, I think you'll stay in control.'

'But it grows in strength the closer we come to Mordor,' Boromir objected. 'If it is so strong even in these lands, how much more powerful will it be when we pass the Black Gates?'

'We won't,' Beth said. 'Well, you won't. The jury's still out on who is going that far with Frodo and I suppose that it could be me, but…' She caught herself. Blimey, Gandalf had said something about being careful with information. Then again, maybe Boromir wouldn't last if he thought he would go into Mordor, but if she could reassure him now… 'We'll split up, not too long from now. Circumstances will force our hand and…'

If that was even still a possibility. Because if Boromir lived, as per the mission plan, perhaps Merry and Pippin would not be kidnapped. And what reason would they have then to chase the orcs all the way? There would be nothing to chase.

She really needed to talk with Thráin soon. They had done too little long-term planning.

Realising she had fallen silent mid-sentence she turned back to him apologetically. 'Sorry, didn't mean to trail off. It's just, there's so much to think about, so much to prepare for and I don't think I've even factored in half of the possibilities yet.' And if we change one thing, we might derail everything else as well. That was not what Gandalf had brought her here for. At least she knew that. 'And Thráin's been distant and uncommunicative lately. We're supposed to be doing this thing together, but he is barely speaking as it is.'

Beth was reasonably certain that Thráin was not going to confide in her. These days he mainly acted rather than squaring things with her.

Hold on. A memory resurfaced of Thráin and Pippin returning from Mirrormere and Pippin looking very secretive, like one with something to hide. Thráin had been different after that visit to the lake, so it stood to reason that something had happened there. And Pippin was not nearly as difficult to talk to as Thráin. It might be worth a go.

'I cannot offer you advice,' Boromir said. 'It is dangerous to offer insights when one does not know all the facts.'

Beth didn't have all the facts either. She just had the book. She knew too little about this world, its political landscape and its people. And she had a lingering suspicion that it would have been really handy to have more knowledge about the movies. If the quest for Erebor had been a mix between book and movie, as Kate's letters seemed to suggest, then it stood to reason that this wouldn't be very different. And that was only when the real events weren't doing what they wanted regardless of what was supposed to happen.

I'd sooner go skating on thin ice than doing anything like this ever again. At least with thin ice she knew where she stood.

'But I can offer you one thing,' he continued. 'Take charge. You cannot win the battle if the other side dictates your moves. You will only ever be reacting, trying to catch up. Take the initiative.'

The wheels of Beth's mind started to spin. He was right. He was bloody right. Perhaps approaching this as if it was a war – and really, it kind of was – made sense. And it kicked in motion a thought process that gathered speed as it went. If she let it, it might become unstoppable.

She stood up. 'Right.' She reached into her bag and pulled out the Lord of the Rings. 'You say I should be doing my army general thing.'

Boromir seemed equal parts amused and intrigued. 'That is why Gandalf brought you here, is it not?'

Gandalf had never phrased it like that. Perhaps that's why I was struggling all along. It's not just advising. 'Well, in that case, arm yourself, soldier.' She thrust the book under his nose. 'You've been doing this job for far longer than I and I could use a second pair of eyes now that Thráin is busy finding himself or whatever it is he's been doing these past few days.' Besides, there was a precedent for this. Kate had given the Hobbit to Thorin and that had worked out pretty well. It was worth a shot. 'And you have local knowledge. I don't. So when you're done reading, you can bring me up to speed. And then we can sit down and work out what to do next.'

She would spend the time he was busy with the book pulling Thráin's head out of his arse and get him back on board. The time was coming that the Fellowship would split up and Beth couldn't be in two places at once. The Hobbit may have been a one person job, but the Lord of the Rings wasn't.

Boromir accepted the book, looking bemused. 'I am not a scholar.'

'No, I am a scholar,' Beth said. 'I don't need two of those. You're the army captain. That's your area of expertise. And Thráin can bring any local knowledge other than Gondor that we need.'

It felt incredibly good to finally have a plan of action. She hadn't felt this confident since arriving in Middle Earth.

'And what will you be doing?' Boromir asked. The amusement was still there, but it had taken a back seat. He hadn't tried to protest any more, for which Beth was grateful.

She smiled. 'I am going to interrogate a hobbit.'

Next time: Beth confronts Thráin.

I will continue to update on Friday. In the event that I suddenly don't, it will only mean my laptop has died. My cat kicked a mug of tea over it and even though it's working again, it's still acting a bit funny. Not to worry, I've got everything I've done backed up, but there might be a slight delay in updates should it suddenly give up the ghost.

Thank you very much for reading. Reviews, as always, would be very welcome.