Answers to Reviews:

Auguruj: Oh, she's fine, perfectly fine, no need for anyone to worry about her at all XD And yes, the sparks have finally begun to catch on the kindling I've laid out...but it might be a while before it turns into a proper fire...or it might not, who knows...apart from me of course :D And the curtains...well, they're of a very good make, and Thranduil was always very careful with them, until he decided to put me in the same room as them...rather a bad idea lol. Bard'll be fine, but yeah, it's never fun losing people you know, especially when it's for a potentially lost cause.

Christmas 95: Of course you were missed! I always take note of who writes reviews, and when a regular goes missing it's kinda like losing a friend ^^' And that's good! Means I'm keeping you on your toes, which is what I always aim for with this story! And I'ma keep updating this story for a loooooong time yet, don't worry. It's too far in for me not to update, and leaving something like this where it is would just be a disappointment, both for myself and for you guys, who've so faithfully stuck with it! Aww, thank you! Always means a lot to hear those words ^_^ Haha, I'm sorry, but I'm also not, as it means you're properly invested in my story...but if you do write the Legolas x OC story, let me know, as I'm always looking for more Hobbit/LOTR stuff to read!

NikaJ: Definitely! She'd been looking forward, in a way, to meeting him, partly because it would mean her part in the story is nearing an end, but also because Bard is such an undermentioned character in the book, and she wanted to know more about him, much as she did with Thranduil. Yeah she's...in a sort of in-between place at the moment. She hadn't really realised how much she was missing home until she had to leave her 'new' one and go out, essentially alone, into a world she is only vaguely familiar with. Who can say? Perhaps it does, especially for someone who's been without true company for so long, and has had that taken away from him again when he's just started to rely on it/her for more than just comfort? Or perhaps he was a bit calmer because...I don't know, he just couldn't be bothered, or maybe he'd had some weed brownies beforehand? I'll leave the guessing up to you XD Yup, that's why she stayed, as she knew he'd die if he didn't have help, since the Orc attack wasn't part of the original story, so she had no way of knowing the outcome unless she was part of it. And yeah, her nose will always be slightly crooked...she likes it though, thinks it makes her look kinda roguish ^^

Salisima: Bard was a fun character to write, so I'm glad you liked him, and I'm glad you like Fenna and her shenanigans XD Oh no, hope you're ok! Ah, that's one of the first rules of writing - never make anything easy for them, ever. They want something? Make them lose something/someone in order to gain it. They're on a quest? Make the journey change them completely, maybe traumatize them in some way...in other words, just be cruel to your characters, because if you make their lives easy, readers won't care enough about them, and won't want to keep reading. Oh, take your time with the drawing, no rush! This story isn't gonna finish any time soon anyway lol.


Me: *Still in devicorn form, wearing the remains of Thranduil's First Age curtains like a cape and dancing outside on the hill* Raaaaaaain! Blessed, wonderful rain! Oh how I've missed you, sweet, cooling water from the sky!

Thranduil: *watching in despair as his already ripped and torn curtains get drenched as the storm rolls in* Why am I so cursed with this creature? Why can I not have a simple, normal life, where my curtains...my poor, old curtains...don't get torn apart by some Morgoth-spawned devil when I try and offer her a nice, cold ice bath? Why, why, why did she refuse the bath, but wants to go and dance in the rain? *holds head in hands*

Me: Because rain is fun, and baths aren't! Speaking of baths, here's one for youuuuuuuu! *gallops towards Thranduil, then at the last minute digs heels in and does a drift of epic proportions...splattering Thranduil with rain and mud in the process*

Thranduil: ...

Me: Oh, hang on, seems you've got a bit of mud...just...here *uses tail to flick a drop of mud from Thranduil's face, trying to hide a grin as the rest of the mud and rain continue to drip from him and his clothes* There we go, all better now. Enjoy! *gallops away, laughing*

Thranduil:...Dear Eru, end my suffering...please, I beg you!


51: Desolate

Once I'd found Fëa, and convinced her that everything was alright, it took me a day and an evening of riding to find Bilbo and the Dwarves. It hadn't taken me long to locate the hoof prints of their ponies – it was the fact that they were so confused and seemingly directionless, and that I had to go at a super slow canter in order not to miss them when they changed direction, that had made the going slow.

As my steed and I made our steady way onwards, the land around us began to change in a way that no oncoming winter had ever brought about. The rolling green heath, where heather was dying down for the winter and sprinkles of downy snow were icing the blades of grass, and where small creatures scurried and squeaked from out path, began to darken, to wither and fade away until only bare, blackened soil was left to peer out from under patches of dirtied snow. Trees that had once been full in canopy and covered in blossom were now only skeletons whose fingers desperately reached for sunlight that couldn't give them life any more than I could. Birds that had been curiously following Fëa and I had turned back a long while ago, and it wasn't long before all sounds of life, barring the beating of my mare's hooves against the ground, the rushing of air through my lungs and the sullen gurgle of the nearby Celduin river, were gone. Nothing remained bar a strange, foul reek, like ozone mixed with burnt, rotting flesh and other terrible things that I didn't even want to try and put a name to. All in all, it was a place I'd rather not have gone to had I been given a choice.

As night began to fall I slipped from Fëa's back and allowed her to walk beside me, not only because she was tired from a long day of near constant moving, but because I could barely see the hoof prints on the ground as the light failed. Were that I'd thought to bring along one of those lamps I've seen around Thranduil's halls, I sighed, brushing my single plait out of my face as I bent to examine the earth. My steed gratefully took this as an opportunity to rest and crop at some of the sparse grass, and I absentmindedly patted her nearest leg. She'd done well to come so far without complaint…as had I, for that matter. Though my time with the Elves had made me strong and swift in ways I'd never have achieved back in my world, stamina was still my weak point, and there were aches and pains all through my body that protested all the more when I shifted my weight from side to side. My face was another matter entirely – it felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it, giving extra attention to my nose and eyes. It would be a while before having any kind of expression other than neutral gave me no pain.

Lifting my head, I gazed about myself, trying to take in where we were in the last rays of the sun. If my guess was correct, and the hoof prints I was following were the right ones, then I was heading for the great southern spur of the Lonely Mountain, coming at it from the western side. The mountain itself towered high above, its great size only seeming to grow with each step I took closer to it.

Squinting at the very highest point at the end of the spur, I could just about make out what looked to be a shape other than a rock – the watchtower of Ravenhill, if I was remembering right, stood at roughly the place I was looking…or what remained of it, anyway. A grim silence seemed to descend all about me, all things that had somehow kept their voice in this desolate place suddenly going quiet. For some moments I simply stared at the ragged remains in the distance, thoughts drifting to what it might have been, what it had been, years ago. It was only when Fëa's head lifted, and her ears perked right forwards, that I was shaken from my thoughts.

"What is it?" I murmured, rising and laying one hand on her withers. The other dropped to the short sword on my left hip. Not now. Not when I'm so near to where I hope they've made camp…

Fëa raised her head, her upper lip lifting in that queer way of horses when they wanted to catch a scent properly. Next moment, she was snorting and shaking her head, pawing at the earth and turning her dark eyes to me. I raised an eyebrow, and she snorted again, bobbing her head up and down in the direction of the distant spur of the mountain.

"Something over there that you want to go and see, huh?" I questioned in Sindarin, and the mare let out a soft nicker before pawing the earth again. I glanced down at the hoof prints, finding that they seemed to be heading in the direction Fëa wanted to go in. Shrugging my shoulders, I patted my steed's side before starting forwards alongside the prints in the ground. "I guess we'll go this way then…if we don't find those damned Dwarves and Bilbo, at least we'll be near enough to the Mountain to have something to put our backs to.

Keeping one hand on my mare's shoulder, I allowed my attention to wander up to the mountain whose shadow I walked in. It really was breath-taking, the sheer size of it, and it was made all the more magnificent silhouetted against the fires of the dying sun. I wonder what a sunset or a sunrise, or even just a day in general, would look like from its very peak? Would I be able to see the land…or would I just be able to see a cloudscape stretching on for miles and miles?

Minutes passed by in this way, me allowing my gaze to stray every so often from the hoof prints, and Fëa plodding on, her steps light and sure despite her weariness. If it hadn't been for her continuing forwards, I would have given up the ghost a long time ago and simply made a camp a way back, intent on resting my bone weary self and finding the Dwarves the next day. The battles from earlier were really catching up with me now, and if I wasn't one big bruise by tomorrow I'd be thoroughly surprised – my face was well on the way to fulfilling that part, at least. My shoulder was another matter, aching like there was no tomorrow and throbbing at the slightest touch. I was going to be paying for saving lives later, of that I was sure.

Just as night began to truly fall, and just as I was about to call things to an end and find a place to sleep, Fëa suddenly stopped, raised her head and let out a high whinny. I slapped her side, hissing at her to be quiet, but moments later was shushing myself as a whinny that wasn't just an echo sounded in the distance. Fëa let out another neigh before starting into a brisk trot, leaving me to spit out a curse and scramble after her. Damn it, she's worse than Aeolus for running off at the most inopportune times…Aeolus-

"Eh? Lads, look, there's a horse coming round the corner!" a voice interrupted my thoughts, just as Fëa disappeared behind something.

"Wait…isn't that Fenna's mare?"

"Aye, that be she…where's the rider?"

"Over…over here!" I managed to call out, saving the rest of my breath for trying to make it to wherever the Dwarves were hiding. There were several cries, and moments later I spotted six heads pop up over what I now saw to be an overhang of rock.

"Fenna!" they called, all hurrying to scramble up on to my level. They met me halfway to what I presumed was there camp, smiles of delight on their lips. "You're alright!"

"Why…oof, give me a minute," I muttered, holding up one hand as I pressed the other to my side. I'd forgotten how nasty stitches could be, and how far my still painful shoulder wound would go to let me know I'd done too much with it.

"…C'mon, let's get you into out camp and give you something to eat – you look like you've been running all day!" Dori commented, and I managed to smile as our now reunited party headed to where I could see Fëa's head poking around a slope of land, though it was quite painful to do so.

When we rounded the corner, I found a smokeless fire burning under a small overhang of rock, keeping its light from watchful eyes. Around it were the sleeping rolls of the Dwarves and Bilbo, along with the packs they'd rolled up to use as pillows. The rest of their things, along with the tack for the ponies, they'd stored in the two tents we'd managed to salvage from the wreck of our first camp, so that any rain the days to come might bring wouldn't damage anything. It was a nice, sheltered little place to have made camp, and though the wind curled cold fingers around and under the rock, it was certainly less biting than it was on the open heath.

"Ahh, I thought I heard you up there, lass. Come, this should warm you up a bit," called Ori as I, wearily greeting the ponies, headed to where my own steed stood.

"Lemme just see to Fëa first," I murmured, unslinging my pack from my shoulder and rooting around in it for the brushes I'd brought with me from Laketown. Really, I should have just accepted the Dwarf's offer and slumped to the ground, but Marian's words about caring for a horse had stuck with me all this time, and I wasn't about to let my standards slip because of a fight and a hard ride. If anything, I was going to do a better job than normal, seeing as how far and hard Fëa had carried me.

The Dwarves began to talk amongst themselves as I worked away at the mud and dust on my mare's coat, but I could practically hear their curiosity eating them alive. Even Thorin, when he appeared from one of the tents and greeted me in his usual stoic fashion, seemed to be waiting for an explanation.

Finally, I was finished making sure Fëa was going to be alright for the night, and was none the worse for the wear from our day long ride, and gratefully accepted the bowl of food Ori offered me as I slung myself and my bag to the ground in the rough circle the others had formed. I was given a few moments to simply enjoy having something warm in my stomach and a place that wasn't moving to sit on, before I was asked to tell my companions what had happened after I'd sent them fleeing for the mountain. Between bites, I described the battle to them, gave them my thoughts as to why I thought the Orcs were after us so relentlessly…or some of them, anyway. Of course, halfway through my tale, Balin, Fili, Kili and Bilbo returned – the Hobbit bringing with him the gentle murmuring of the ring and setting me sidling away from him – and so I had to start from the beginning.

By the time I was finished, and everything that had happened had been examined to the Dwarves satisfaction, the moon was high and cold above our heads and at my neck, and the stars were out in fullest force. I yawned as I was finally able to slip into my sleeping roll, weary to my very bones and aching even more than that. It wasn't long before the soft drone of the Dwarves, speaking in their own gravelly tongue, lulled me towards the arms of sleep…and it wasn't long before my nightmares awoke me, flashing with great winged serpents, mounds and mounds of gold, and the bleak skeleton of the far off Ravenhill.


The days we spent looking for the door were as gloomy as the weather front that had decided to set in. The first two days, spent at our first camp, were filled with optimism that was only dampened slightly by the fact that we actually had no idea where to look – I was having a hard time remembering exactly where the door was after so long without reading The Hobbit. When we moved to our second camp however, at the top of a long, narrow valley sat between two more spurs of the mountain, the spirits of everyone began to drop as no sign of a hidden door was found. Even Kili and Fili started to look glum as, each night, they came back empty handed and without a shred of evidence to show our parties' efforts weren't in vain. The storm that set in on our second night in this second camp of ours didn't help matters either, the fat drops of rain forcing us all to crowd into the tents and huddle the horses under what little shelter there was.

There were some silver linings to the storm cloud hanging over us, though…for me, at least. Since I had longer legs and was reasonably light on my feet, and could scramble up the sheer sides of the mountain spurs with relative ease, I was given the task of searching the higher ridges both near and far; once even venturing near to the desolate remains of Ravenhill. From that height, the views of the land around Erebor were spectacular, even with half of it obscured by curtains of grey rain. If my task had been anything but urgent, and I had been confident of where the door was, then I would have spent many an afternoon simply fixing the sights in my mind, my gaze and thought more often than not straying to the dark forest away in the west.

Another thing that, really, shouldn't have been a silver lining at all, was the fantastic black eye I was sporting. On the day I'd gained it, and my now slightly kinked nose, it had only come out in small purple patches. Now, four days later, it had bloomed into an absolute masterpiece of a bruise that spread all around my left eye, around my nose and under my right eye. It was a riot of colours, ranging from black, to vibrant plum, and to a blue-green spattered with mustard yellow at the edges. Even the Dwarves had whistled at the sight of it when it had come into its full glory, and I was inclined to believe them when they said it was a bruise to be proud of.

I wonder what Thranduil would say if he saw it? I mused, despite knowing my happiness would fade if I did so. …He'd probably scold me for getting myself hurt again, then lock me in my room…ahh, enough. Come, you've got searching to do. Turning my thoughts from the enigmatic Elvenking, I then went back to scanning the ridge I was slowly making my way along…not that it was doing much good, in this weather. The rain had been beating down for a good few hours now, and it didn't look like it was going to stop any time soon.

"Found anything?" Fili questioned as he appeared at my side, the small spark of hope fading from his eyes as I shook my head.

"No, and I don't think I will do over here. There's nowhere for a door to go, unless it was a trap door," I sighed, kicking at a loose stone and watching as it bounced down into a distant pile of scree.

"No, it was definitely a door…or so Balin says."

"You really don't trust his memory, do you?" Kili snorted.

"One time, he couldn't find his pouch of pipe weed, and spent hours looking for it…only to have someone point out it was in his front pocket right in plain view."

"Well, we've all done that at some point."

"He did this three times in one day," Kili added, and I blinked in surprise before bursting out laughing, though it was only a quiet chuckle. The land around me was too unnervingly silent for unbridled laughter.

The two of us spent the next hour combing back and forth across a likely looking jut of rock, though I knew this definitely wasn't the area where the door was. Of course, I could have given that piece of information up right at the start of this venture, but not only would that pose the problem of how I came to know such a thing when not even Thorin knew where the door was, but it would also speed up the proceedings to a degree where the timeline of events might be thrown off. I wasn't about to put my abstinence from interfering with events to an end just to save time.

Evening began to draw on, and with no progress made in finding the door things were gloomier than ever in camp. Thorin was a silent, brooding figure in the corner of one of the tents, his dark eyes hooded under heavy brows and words terse when he actually spoke. The others were a bit better, their voices light as they tried to joke and laugh around, but it was easy to tell how forced their cheer was becoming.

At least the rain's stopped for the moment, I sighed, leaning to one side and squeezing my hair out as best I could. There was a satisfying patter as what felt like an entire cloud's worth of water dripped from my long locks, and I could actually feel a difference in weight when I released it to hang once more down my back. Means I can actually try and get dry…and can see the stars again.

Minutes passed as I traced out now familiar constellations across the dark night, peace finding its way into my restless heart and mind.

"You're fond of whoever gave you that ring," a voice suddenly interrupted, setting me flinching and half drawing my sword before I realised who it was the stood off to one side.

"Jeez, you're worse than the Elves for sneaking up on me," I muttered, releasing a tense breath and slowly pushing my blade back into its scabbard. Bilbo gave me a sheepish smile as he stepped closer, feet bare despite the chill in the damp air.

"It's what makes me a good burglar," he said with a soft chuckle. At a nod from me, he placed his pack on my left and sat down it, tucking his cloak about him and huddling into its thick folds. I supressed a shiver and the urge to shuffle further away from the Hobbit – or the thing he was carrying, to be more specific. The whispers of the Ring were a constant presence on the outside of whatever it was that was keeping my mind from being invaded, and though its words weren't strong, they were always there, always murmuring in ever so seductive tones, telling me that all I had to do was reach out and take the ring, and everything would be okay. Just a little reach, a little scrabble of my fingers into a pocket as Bilbo slept soundly, and-

"What makes you say I'm fond of whoever gave me this ring?" I questioned, my voice as forcibly light as those of the Dwarves behind me. It didn't do to dwell too long on the Ring so far away from the protection of Thranduil's realm, and so close to a dragon's long brooded over hoard.

"You keep twisting and turning at it whenever you're in deep thought…and you always smile when you look at it," Bilbo shrugged after a moment, flashing me a quick grin.

"Do I…?" I murmured, allowing my gaze to drop to the ring in question. It was true, that I tended to fiddle with it when I was thinking hard, but did I smile? If I did, it was an unconscious thing on my part.

"You do…who…who gave you that ring, may I ask?"

"Thranduil did," I replied feeling what Bilbo had said come true as a smile slipped on to my lips. It was true, I was….well, I'd grown deeply fond of Thranduil during my years here in Middle-earth. He'd become my rock in tempestuous times, even if he himself was the source of the tempest, and an hour in his company was to me worth all the gems hidden in Erebor.

"The Elvenking!?" Bilbo sputtered, eyes wide as he stared at me with a somewhat shocked expression. I nodded. "But…he's…"

"Cold? Uncaring? Irritable beyond reason?" I listed, smile growing with each nod the Hobbit gave at my side. "That's true, he is. He's also-"

"A pointy eared tree hugger who throws a tantrum like a child when he does 'na get his way!" interrupted the voice of one of the Dwarves, to raucous laughter and muttered curses from the others. I threw a filthy look over my shoulder at them, not in the mood for their banter, before turning back to Bilbo.

"As I was saying, he's also one of the nicest, caring people that I have ever met, and will do anything for those he cares about."

"…Certainly didn't look that way from how he was whenever I saw him," Bilbo mumbled, turning his gaze out to the night blanketed landscape. I gave a half smile.

"Well, you have to have known him for a while, and actually earnt his trust, to see that side of him even for a moment," I said, before falling into a contemplative silence as I spun the ring gently about my finger. It glimmered in the light of the waning moon that shone both from the sky and from my neck, the delicate branches seeming to twist and turn of their own accord, growing around my finger until, if I let my eyesight blur, it appeared to be encased in bright silver mail.

Sighing quietly, I once more lifted my gaze to the heavens, wondering if I'd ever be there for one such moment again, or if my last memory of-

I cut myself off with a slight shake of my head and an abrupt rising to my feet. Come now, I thought, bidding a somewhat startled Bilbo, the still Thranduil-cursing Dwarves, and Fëa and the ponies a goodnight before heading for my bedroll. It doesn't do to dwell on such things. Time to rest and dream, and let the worries of the future come to you when you're more prepared for them.


Next Time...

52: Open Sesame

"We've found it, we've found it! We've found the door!" came Fili's excited cry as he, his brother and Bilbo tumbled back into camp in a bundle of smiles and wildly flailing limbs. There was a moment of stunned silence from the other Dwarves as the three returned members untangled themselves, before everything erupted into chaotic shouting and movement. I, for my part sat back and watched it all with a faint smile, my elven cloak wrapped tightly around me to keep out the chilly fall wind. I'd known that the door would soon be found – we'd been at the Mountain for five days now, and if Durin's day was on the nineteenth of this month as the Dwarves told me it was, then we had little time left – but I'd not known exactly when, so to hear it'd been found was a great relief.

At last, things are moving along, I thought, feeling a sliver of happiness returning to me as the Dwarves began slapping the three intrepid explorers on the backs. I'd been doing relatively ok until two days ago, even though the meat had just run out and all we had to go on was the little food I'd managed to ration, and the biscuit-like stuff called cram the people of Esgaroth had given us. Sure, I'd been longing to go back to Mirkwood, to wait until Smaug was dead and Thranduil's hand was forced, and I'd begun to have enough of wandering this way and that over ever rockier terrain as the Dwarves grew more and more desperate to find the door, but I'd kept it in check. However, when the meat had run out, and when the bad weather hadn't abated, the Dwarves' demeanours had drastically changed. Even the normally affable Balin had become prone to brooding silences, and Thorin…well, let's just say I stayed well clear of him whenever I could. Despite my best efforts, though, and despite those of the seemingly unshakable cheer of Bilbo, I'd felt myself growing more and more frustrated with everything, my temper exceedingly close to the surface despite the fact that my time of the month had just ended. My yearning for home – which one I could never quite tell – grew and grew, and I found it harder and harder to stick with the Dwarves and do all I could to help. I'd persevered, though, despite all of that, because I knew that sooner or later the door would have to be found, and the next part of this 'adventure' would begin.

Their laughing and back patting over for a moment, Balin and the others urged Kili, Fili and Bilbo to sit down and relate their tale, drawing in close around the crackling fire and leaning forwards with eager expressions. I, too, drew closer, for though I knew roughly how they'd found it from my memory of reading The Hobbit, it wasn't every day that I'd get to hear it from the mouth of one of the Dwarves who'd actually discovered it.


Thranduil: *drying himself off in his rooms, still grouching on about me and my filthy ways and habits* ...Should just throw her out of my halls and be done with her...

Me: * in devicorn form, slowly phasing through the wall, a wicked grin appearing as I see how pristine and clean Thranduil's new white clothes and cloak are*

Thranduil: *completely oblivious* Ahh, that's better...perhaps I should make her clean these dirty clothes as punishment...maybe then she'd stop...

Me: *Now right behind Thranduil and fully corporeal, dripping mud and rain and suppressing laughter*

Thranduil: Yes, I think I...huh? *pauses as he hears the water dripping from me* Is someone there-AIEEEEE! *shrieks as I turn and shake myself as hard as I can, covering him once again in dirt and ruining his white clothes before racing away, laughter trailing behind me*