Chapter 51

Keeping Up Appearances

So yes, dears, that's barrel-riding for you; cold, uncomfortable and in a way far more frightening than any orc attack I have ever seen. It's a strange thing, but I remember being more afraid of things that I could not do a single thing about than being afraid of something I could fight. Orcs are something one can fight. It would turn out that a river is not on the same list.

But we had been lucky to have made it so far without getting caught. I think it's bordering on a miracle, especially as I later learned that our Middle Earth variation of prison break had been discovered only about half an hour after the last barrel had been rolled out of that trap door. From a reliable source I have it that some servant came to bring some food to the guards down in the dungeons and got positively shocked by what it was that he found. He screamed bloody murder and refused to step foot in the dungeon, shocked by so much violence. You'd say that elves, looking at their history, would not be so shocked at seeing a few guards taking a blow to the head, but this one was apparently rather young and had never set foot outside Thranduil's realm.

What worked in our favour was that the guards were quite unable to determine how we had gotten out, because the doors were all still locked and unbroken. In that way nothing was wrong. It was just that the prisoners had all gone that was puzzling them. Some of our company were rather pleased with themselves when they learned they had indeed outwitted a bunch of elves.

What followed was a true witch hunt, which, if my source can be believed, was more like a bunch of headless chickens tripping over themselves in their haste to find out what had happened and how it was possible for a company of thirteen prisoners, heavily guarded prisoners, to get out of their cells, knock out the security and then just vanish into thin air. They discovered that our weapons had gone, as well as some of their own weaponry, that we had added to our own collection as payment of sorts.

Still, they were mightily confused as to how we got out of a castle that had magical doors that did not open without the elves' permission and there was no other way out of the palace, not that they knew of. Eventually someone, an elf by the name of Cenion, realised that certain barrels had been rather heavy, a lot heavier than they should have been. He further realised that Elvaethor had been asleep before his friends and he had come in to push the casks into the river, giving a company of dwarves the chance to climb in and get out. Cenion's a rather clever boy indeed.

Of course this still did not solve their problem of how we had gotten out in the first place, but they did know that we had gotten out and it was not all that hard for them to realise where we were headed. But by the time they had finally ascertained that we had left the palace and were not hiding within its walls – as they had first suspected – the night was already wearing late and by the time they finally got to the place where the barrels had been gathered, the elves there had just pushed off and were well on their way to the Long Lake.

We didn't know how lucky we had been of course, not then. All we knew was that we were cold and wet and that our muscles ached…

Thorin

It was a relief to be out of the barrel. Thorin could not tell how long he had been in this makeshift prison of his own choosing, but it would be well over twelve hours. All his muscles burned and protested against being forced in the same position for hours on end and he found that his strength was deserting him. This led to a very embarrassing scene of crawling out of the cask, with some help of the burglar. Doubtlessly he would be ashamed of this later, but for the time being he was just very glad to be out of the barrel.

The escape had been successful, that was undeniable, but Thorin wondered how anyone in full possession of his brains could ever think of something so ridiculous as escaping in small barrels. But he would also have to admit that he was grateful to this person for alerting them to the weak spot in Thranduil's security. If that weak spot had not been there, they would still be prisoners in that dungeon of his and that was not something the dwarf was anxious to repeat. He valued his freedom.

And it did feel as a relief to breathe the free air again. It was a fair morning. There was a chill in the air, but the sun was shining down on him, almost as if to welcome him back. Because that was something that was starting to seep through only now: he was nearly home. In the distance he could make out the shape of the Mountain.

His heart nearly stopped and for a moment his troubles were forgotten. He forced himself to stand and look in the direction of Erebor. Yes, he had seen it once before, when he had been seated on the back of an eagle watching east at the eagle's insistence. But it had been far off and nothing more than a vague shape on the horizon then. That was infinitely different now.

But as he looked he felt himself disappointed.

The last time he had laid eyes on the Mountain, there had been fire and smoke everywhere. He had been on the run then, supporting a wounded warrior who leaned on him with what appeared his full weight. But he had looked back just that once. The sight that met his eyes had broken his heart. Erebor was shrouded in a dark black smoke that made it almost impossible to see anything at all. His homeland was burning, as was the land around it.

Of course it had not been like that in his youth. The land surrounding Erebor had been green and fertile and its slopes were home to huge pines. The land had been beautiful, peaceful. It was the kind of land that made one feel welcome, that made one feel like coming home. It was the mental picture Thorin had carried with him for all those years in exile. It was not just a reminder of what he had lost, but also a reminder of what he would once go home to again.

But this was not homecoming, not in the way he had imagined it would be. He had known the land had been destroyed when Smaug had come, but he had believed that the years would have healed it again. Trees and plants could be burned, but somewhere seeds remained and life would return. And now Smaug had not been seen for sixty years, so it should have gotten the chance to recover itself.

But it had not. The land was barren. The earth seemed scorched, like the earth in Mirkwood had been after their inferno. Here and there one lonely plant had braved the dragon's danger and had sprung up, but those were few and far in between. It was nothing like the beautiful land the dwarf king remembered.

It made him fear for Erebor as well. If the land surrounding it had been so badly burned, then what would have become of the Mountain itself? He remembered joking about it with Kate, but that had been in Mirkwood. The thought of Smaug slaving away with mop and bucket was even more ridiculous here than it had already been in the darkness of Thranduil's realm. Smaug would not have taken care of Erebor. All he cared about was the treasure and Erebor had always been so much more than that.

His heart clenched and he had to work hard to get rid of a few treacherous tears that turned to spill over at the sight of Erebor and what had once been Dale.

We will rebuild it. That thought took up residence in his heart and mind. Before now he had hardly allowed himself to plan beyond the point of arriving at the back door and finding a way to open it. That was the big flaw in their plan on tackling the dragon in there: there was no plan. But now he had a purpose for after that dragon was gone and that motivated him to think about aforementioned dragon first.

Mr Baggins had marched back into the lake to retrieve another barrel and Thorin gave himself a mental kick in the behind, because he was here doing nothing while the smaller and weaker hobbit did the work of freeing his men. And that was not the way things were supposed to be. He was the leader of this company and seeing to his men was his duty.

He marched into the lake and took the first barrel that was lying too deep in the water to be empty. His muscles protested against it, but they protested every motion right now and he had learned to ignore physical pain when there were more important things to concern himself with.

It did not take too much effort to open up the barrel and then he saw Balin's face. The elderly dwarf looked ten times more miserable than Thorin felt, and that included the disheartening sight of the Mountain. Thorin's oldest friend was soaked and far too pale. It was one of those times that the dwarf king realised that Balin had quite a few decades on him and was getting older. This was not the way in which one transported an elderly person.

You should not have taken elderly persons with you on the quest then. Once again his mental voice sounded remarkably like Kate. And it was right, but Balin had wanted to come, would have been offended if Thorin had tried to leave him behind. And in the end Thorin was glad that he had him in his company, because Balin was his oldest friend and he valued his support and opinion. He was the steady rock in times of turmoil.

And now it was his turn to be a rock for his friend. He forced his face into a reassuring smile and reached out to grab Balin's arms. The state he was in now he would not be able to crawl out on his own strength.

'I've got you,' he said. 'Come, Balin.'

His friend seemed barely conscious and it did not take Óin for Thorin to realise that he was badly affected by his most recent ordeal. And so it was down to Thorin to lift him out. He at least had the bodily strength to do so and Balin's feeble protests of being able to do it himself did not make any impact on his king.

'Sit here,' he ordered Balin brusquely when he had set him on the ground and had kicked away the barrel from him. 'I'll look for the others.'

The barest hint of a smile appeared on Balin's face. 'Thank you, laddie.'

This made Thorin smile. The whole world could come to an end, but it would not stop Balin from calling him laddie. In a world that seemed to have tilted on its axis, the notion that there were some things that would never change was more than welcome to him.

He responded with a curt nod. 'Rest,' he told his friend.

All too soon they would need to make for Esgaroth. He had been reluctant to go there because of the elvish presence in that town, but if he looked at his company now, he knew that there was no choice. They had no provisions and some of them were in a bad way. Mr Baggins had managed to free Bombur while Thorin had seen to Balin and the fat dwarf could only lie on the ground in misery, too bruised and battered to even lift a finger. He had come through this ordeal well and he had been as foolish to hope that the others would make it through just as well. It would seem that he had been mistaken in that assumption.

And now they needed the help, whatever help the people of this town would be able to offer them. Thorin had to believe that Kate's book was right on this account as well.

He was already on his way to get a next barrel, when Balin called him back. 'Did you see it?' he asked.

The it didn't need any further explaining. Thorin knew what his friend meant. 'I did,' he said.

Somehow it felt like his heart was broken all over again. And Balin must feel the same. He too had lived there, had called it home. To see Erebor so ruined was like someone had put a dagger in his heart and twisted it there, again and again.

He turned around to face his friend. 'We will make this right again.' He needed to. He owed that to his people. And to make it right again, he had to survive. And in order to survive, he had to make sure that his mind was not taken over by the gold lust. And maybe having a purpose would make it easier for him to stay focused and in control. He could not fall to the lure of the gold, because his people needed him too much.

Balin nodded. 'We will see it done,' he promised.

Thorin nodded again and then turned to open up another cask. Mr Baggins had gone back into the water as well and was currently in the process of helping Fíli to his feet, who, Mahal be praised, only seemed to be a little stiff. 'I hope I never smell the smell of apples again,' he moaned. 'My tub was full of it.'

Thorin did not know what his tub had been filled with, but he was glad that it was nothing with a distinctive smell. His stomach was demanding attention as well, but he could ignore that as long as the smell of food was kept away from him. Fíli had been surrounded by it for hours on end.

The dwarf king opened the next cask and helped Kíli to get out as well. Like his brother, Thorin's youngest sister-son was only a little stiff. He stretched his arms and legs and then made a dash for the nearest bush to empty his bladder, shouting over his shoulder that he would be back in just a few moments to help out.

'Thorin! I think I need your help!' The voice of the hobbit prevented the dwarf from commenting on Kíli's amusing behaviour.

He turned to see the hobbit standing next to an opened barrel with a slightly panicked expression on his face. He did not have a clue as to what was going on, but it had to be serious and that meant that it was his responsibility to deal with it.

But even though it was serious, he was a little surprised that Bilbo Baggins had called to him. Things had been rather tense between them, not in the last place because Thorin liked to keep some distance between them. Mr Baggins knew nothing of the world at all, nothing of sorrow and even less of loss. All he yearned for was his comfortable chair by the fire and his books, maps and six or seven meals a day. And those were such trivial and unimportant things to Thorin.

But he would have to admit that lately the burglar was starting to act like a burglar. The fact that he had managed to smuggle them all out of Thranduil's dungeon was a fine example of that. And maybe he could go a little easier on the hobbit for that. And so he marched over to see what the matter was.

'She doesn't respond,' the halfling informed him before he was even anywhere near him. He seemed rather flustered and very ill at ease. And Thorin also knew exactly who he was talking about. There was after all only one female in the company. 'And there's blood on her forehead as well.'

Thorin told himself that he should not react to that as violently as he did. But at the mention of Kate being apparently heavily injured he could feel his blood run cold and his stomach twisted in a tight knot. He should have known that she was far too fragile to endure such a perilous journey.

He all but ran the last few meters – he did not truly run, because that would indicate that he cared more than he ought to do – and knelt down next to the barrel to look into it. Kate was seemingly unconscious. Her eyes were closed and she gave no sign of realising what was going on around her. There was a bloody wound on her forehead. It must have happened quite a while ago, because the blood had already dried.

Thorin looked up at the burglar. 'How long since you last checked on her?' he demanded.

'Last night,' Bilbo replied immediately. 'When I was making a round to see if everyone was there. She was fine then.'

That must mean it had happened on the river today. The raft had bumped against a few rocks on the way and Kate's barrel had been the one to crash against it. The corresponding marks were on the cask. The advisor must have hit her head and passed out. And that was no good news by any means.

He made a quick decision. 'Open as many casks as you can,' he ordered the halfling. 'I will get her out. Go. Send Óin when you find him.' And Mahal give that he is both conscious and capable of moving around on his own.

The burglar did not protest. Instead he moved away so fast that it was as if Thorin had been threatening to hurt him if he didn't go to do his job this instant. Thorin himself reached inside and dragged the woman out. Kate still did not give any sign of life and that worried the dwarf king. The woman attracted trouble and injuries, he was starting to believe. She had gotten herself injured during the flight to Rivendell, had been whipped across the face in Goblin-town and had been badly injured during their last fight with Azog's small army as well. And that was even leaving the blow to the head with the hilt of Galas's sword out of his consideration. It worried him more than it should.

The advisor was soaked as well. The barrel had been badly damaged by its encounter with the rock and it had made a small hole it the wood. There was a considerable amount of river water inside. The advisor, her bag and the straw were all wet.

He took her up and carried her over to where Balin was still sitting. To think that of all their number it had of course to be the woman who got injured during the barrel escape. But this did worry him. Kate was pale and unmoving. Even that stupid unruly mass of hair of hers was lifeless now that the water was weighing it down, taking the curls from it. For some reason it felt like a bad thing.

Balin was trying to get to his feet, but a stern glare from Thorin stopped him before he could make good on his intention. 'What happened?' he asked.

'She hit her head,' Thorin reported. 'I need you to stay with her until we have found Óin.' As much as he may want to remain at Kate's side, that was a stupid idea for more than one reason. He was still the leader of this company and as such it was his duty to see to all the members of his company. It would be wrong to remain with one that was already being seen to by another.

But there was also the element of not wanting to get any closer to the advisor than he already was. He could no longer trust his feelings around her and since nothing could ever come of those treacherous feelings, he would have to train himself to stay far away from the woman. It was the best and wisest thing to be doing. The conversation they would need to have soon would be hard enough already. There was no need to torment himself any further.

He got to his feet and made to march away. Fíli, Kíli and Mr Baggins had freed another few of his men, but Óin was not among them. And there were still quite a lot of barrels that needed opening. And even if they were opened it remained to be seen how well their occupants were. Dwalin was grumbling and trying – and failing – to get to his feet, but Bofur for once was not smiling, just lying on the ground, and the same was true for Glóin. This may be the only way of escape, but it had taken a heavy toll on all the members of his company.

So much for keeping them safe. He had sworn to Balin in the deeps of Goblin-town that he would try his hardest to keep each and every member of his company safe, but it seemed that he had not been very successful in his attempts to do so. Yes, they were free and they were alive, all but Bifur – and that loss still hurt – but this was not the manner in which he had hoped to arrive in Esgaroth. So far everything that could have gone wrong, had indeed gone wrong and that stung. It felt like a personal failure.

Again, he was called back by his oldest friend. 'Thorin, come back.' That tone of voice made the dwarf king feel like a lad all over again. And he had a fairly good idea what Balin was planning to do and say. He had been developing certain matchmaker skills over the last few months and that was the last thing he could use right now. He ought to have more important things on his mind.

'Not this time,' he told Balin. And not any time after this either. He recalled that before the Misty Mountains Kate had kept her distance to the company to prevent herself from becoming attached. He could do the same, although it was already too late to prevent anything. But he could contain the damage.

'You care about her, laddie.' Balin's words stopped him dead in his tracks. He should have known better than to try and hide anything from him. As always, he could see right through him.

'I cannot afford to,' he replied. It was the truth, a harsh one, but a truth nonetheless. And he owed that to Balin. He could not lie to him.

'Can't or won't?' his friend asked sharply.

Thorin forced himself to turn around. 'Both of those.' His feet carried him back to the place where he was sitting and Kate was lying almost of their own volition. 'Balin, nothing can come of it.' He knew this was as good a confession of his feelings as any declaration. 'This is the best way.'

'You always were more stubborn than was good for you.' Balin shook his head. 'So is she. You would be well matched.'

'It is not done,' Thorin reminded him. And that would not change now. Kate had a world to go back to, a life to live, and he would not have a place in that. That was the way Gandalf had intended it to be. It was the way Kate herself would want it. Thorin had not forgotten how desperate she had been to return to her friends and family just a few weeks ago. Something like that did not fade in a matter of weeks, as Thorin understood all too well. The woman did not belong here and he could not belong in her world. It was plain and simple. 'Her place is in her own world.' And his was in Erebor. Never had he seen that more clearly as when he had seen what had become of his homeland just now. 'Why, Balin?' he asked in turn. 'Why do you want this so much?' Because that was one of the unexplained mysteries, something he should have asked about much earlier, he realised.

His friend smiled indulgently, like a parent might do. 'You have always been alone, laddie. You deserve some happiness in your life. Our advisor might give it to you.'

Thorin was severely tempted to grimace. Happiness was not something that had been part of his life for many years. He could not afford to put his own before his people's, especially not in exile, when they looked to him for strength. Happiness had become a luxury and it was not one that was for him. Maybe, after Erebor had been restored to its former glory, he would find rest and peace of mind, but it would not be with Kate. 'I cannot afford to,' he answered truthfully.

Balin shook his head, as if he did not believe a single word of what Thorin had said. 'I may be old, Thorin, but I have not lost my wits.' He almost seemed amused, if also a little exasperated. 'The two of you would make it all so much easier on yourselves if you recognised what was right in front of you.'

He would have left Thorin to stew over those words for quite some time to come, Thorin knew. It was his habit to place some remark and then leave it up to his king to think about it. And Thorin would certainly have done exactly that, had Kate not stirred that moment.

Kate

It was becoming something of a habit to wake up with a head that felt like it had been hit with a sledgehammer, Kate observed as her consciousness started to return to her. But in this case it was of course not a sledgehammer, but her own barrel. Events were still a bit unclear, but the way she remembered, her cask had hit some rock at some point in time after they had left the place where the barrels had been gathered. It had been unexpected and Kate did not have the chance to brace herself, even if she could have done that in that cramped space, before her head had been thrown against the wood. And that had been no contest. These thing had been made to transport goods over a rather bumpy river and so they were strong and undeniably painful when one bumped one's head against it.

She must have passed out after that. Well, at least she had missed the rest of that horrible journey, because now she was lying on some floor or other. The air was clean and did not smell like dirty cask. She had a lot more space to move as well and that was a very welcome change.

She tried to move, making her muscles protest.

That action alerted her to the fact that she was not alone, though. 'Kate, are you awake?' The advisor would have recognised that voice anywhere.

She cracked an eye open to find herself staring right at Thorin. 'Nice to see you too,' she commented. 'Despite the fact that you keep insisting to ask the stupid questions. Of course I'm awake.' Truth was that she was not very comfortable with him so close, but the bantering had worked for them before, to protect them both from fear or anger. Maybe it would do the job of protecting them from awkwardness as well.

And if she was really honest, she did not quite know what to do with that worry that she thought she had seen on his face. Thorin Oakenshield was not known to worry much. She had seen it only a few times, and then mostly for Fíli and Kíli. Kate was not comfortable with being on the receiving end of that concern.

He did crack a smile, even if it did not quite reach his eyes. 'How are you feeling?'

Kate frowned. 'Soaked, aching all over. My head's bloody sore as well.' The frown deepened. 'But I thought you didn't do fussing?' All that stupid fussing of his seemed to suggest that he felt something for her as well and she knew that would not be the case. They had both been rather insistent that nothing was going on between them, even if Kate was no longer sure how true her own claims were. Things had been rather messed up since that kiss.

She still didn't know what it was that kiss had actually done. She did not think it had made her fall for Thorin. Kate Andrews, practical woman that she was, did not believe in fairy tales about true love's kiss and the like. It was more likely that the kiss had made her realise that Thorin did not repel her, nothing even close to it. It made her realise that they had grown closer over the past few months and that she was appreciating his company quite a bit more than she had thought. Moreover, that kiss had felt good. It was tender, sweet and perfect and those treacherous butterflies had already taken up residence in her stomach before she could even begin to stop them. It had felt like Thorin did care for her in a way that had often been suggested by their companions, but that Kate had never even contemplated to be true. She had not believed that she had felt about Thorin in such a way.

And she could not pinpoint when that had even happened. Yes, Thorin had become a closer friend than most of the friends she had in her own world, despite his difficult character. Kate simply blamed it on the events. No one could go through that and not end up bonding with the person who went through it with them. She had not realised that what they had was a bit more, a bit deeper than friendship until Thorin had pressed his lips against hers. That bloody kiss had burned away all the things she had been telling herself, leaving her to face a rather uncomfortable truth. She had done a stupid thing: she had fallen in love, despite her good intention of not doing so in Middle Earth. She had believed to reserve that for home. It had not worked out.

And it was even more painful because it was clearly one-sided. Kate had heard what Thranduil had said. It would be extremely rare for a dwarf to marry a daughter of the race of Men. Unheard of. Especially for dwarf royalty. And from what she herself had gathered and knew from Tolkien's work was that dwarves were a secretive race, who did not like outsiders very much. At first they had only put up with her because Gandalf insisted. Naturally that had changed later, but still, she was an outsider. And as far as she was aware, not a single one dwarf had ever married someone that was not of their own race. Did that not tell her everything she needed to know?

This is not a fanfiction, girl. Not all stories have the happily ever after. Get used to it. And because of that it would be best to keep direct contact to a minimum, at least until the awkwardness wore off and Thorin forgot that they still needed to have a conversation. Because that conversation would never happen if Kate had a say in the matter.

'As your friend, I do believe I am allowed to be concerned,' Thorin countered. Kate could not tell why, but for some reason it bugged her that he was using her tone and words.

'Then as your friend I'm telling you to stop making such a fuss.' Kate tried to keep her tone of voice light, but she had the impression it sounded more biting than she had intended. Keeping him at a distance would be difficult and Kate found herself wishing for that relatively uncomplicated friendship they had enjoyed in Mirkwood. There had been deeper feelings then as well, although that was only something she was able to recognise in hindsight, because they had been so well hidden. They had both believed that it had been only friendship. There was nothing more, they believed. And now she was longing for that time, that kind of friendship. Because that was something she could handle, something they both could handle.

There was an understanding in Thorin's eyes. It was there for a moment and then his expression was carefully shaped back into that decisive leader expression he wore so well. At the beginning of the journey Kate had believed it to be his default setting. Now she suspected that it may simply be a mask he hid all his emotions behind. She wished she could do the same. 'Can you stand?'

Kate gave herself a moment to work that out and eventually decided that she could. It would not be fun in any way, but she should be able to handle it. And she would hate to be seen as weak. 'I'll manage.'

'Then walk with me,' he said.

The advisor was not at all sure that was a good idea. There was a lingering suspicion that he wanted to have that conversation here and now and Kate was opposed to that for multiple reasons. The best thing would really be if someone came and deleted that kiss from both their memories, so that they could go on as before and focus on the bloody quest instead of on the mess of feelings.

But Thorin still was the king and she was technically under his command. So she nodded and used a nearby barrel to support her as she got to her feet. Thorin looked like he was going to offer her his hand, but refrained from it at the last possible moment. And that was a good thing. They would need to work out a new way to work with the other and since neither of them seemed particularly inclined to talk about it. It was too embarrassing, she supposed. Therefore it would be a matter of just learn by doing, see what worked and didn't work and go from that. This was them trying to work something out already.

'Sure,' she said, trying and failing to make it sound nonchalant. She quickly turned to look at Balin to hide it. 'Will you be all right here?'

The elderly dwarf did seem rather shaken by the whole ordeal and he wasn't one of the youngest dwarves around anymore. Kate had seen him hide injury and pain before, but she knew how to look. It was undeniable that the barrel escape had not been too easy on him. It would be the same as putting her grandfather in such a barrel. And that was not something she wanted to think about now. Kate had successfully managed to keep every thought of her very ill, now possibly deceased, granddad locked away in the back of her mind for months, because it was just too painful to think about. It would not do to think of such matters now.

Balin made it a little easier by smiling encouragingly. 'I'll be fine, lass. Go.' There was that expression on his face that told Kate a lot more than she wanted to know. It was almost as if he knew that there was more between them than she was ready to admit to anyone, not even to herself. And that was something she could really do without.

She just replied with a smile and something she hoped would pass as a warning look – although she was quite convinced it was more exasperated – and followed Thorin away from the company, most of whom were out of their barrels now. A few were on their feet, but most dwarves were still in the process of catching their breaths and stretching their muscles now that they had a chance to stretch them. Kate felt the need to do the same thing, but as company advisor she could not afford to waste time on that kind of thing. When she had made that oath to Thorin, she had also lost the right to indulge in such small luxuries, because of aforementioned oath, she should put her duties first. And she supposed that was true for personal feelings as well. I swear that this quest is also my quest from now on until the day the task has been completed. That meant that the quest came first and everything else later.

So, stop wailing about wanting to stretch your muscles, Andrews, she reprimanded herself. And get a bloody move on. And get a grip on your sodding feelings while you're at it. The quest comes first now.

But that was something she knew with her head. Erebor had always been the final destination, had always been where they had to be going. But Kate had, she realised now, always been far more concerned with the present. There was always some kind of sticky situation they needed to get out of first. Thorin on the other hand was always more concentrating on the destination, his kingdom, his home. His mind was always on it, she imagined. For her it was more words. And she could not afford to do that any longer, not while they were so close to their goal.

'What is it?' she asked, before realising that this was not the wisest thing to be asking. If she wanted to be in control of this conversation, then she should take the lead. It might even allow her to keep some of the dignity she had lost by kissing him back so enthusiastically. 'If this is about that…' She hesitated. Spit the word out, Andrews. It needs to be said. 'If this is about the kiss, then I think it's best if we just forgot about it.' There, she'd said it. 'I think we both knew that was an act to fool the elves and to be quite frank, it's quite ridiculous the way we've been behaving around each other because of it.'

Kate ignored the feeling that her heart was breaking with those words, instead opting on feeling proud of herself that she had managed to deliver the words without a tremor in her voice. She could handle this the adult way. She did not blunder her way through this like any fanfiction heroine would do. There were no tears, no dramatic scenes and heart-wrenching background music. This was business-like, determined and strong. Kate liked it. It reminded her of the old Kate, the aspiring journalist who could make the quick decisions and stick with them. And it was time to bring a little of her old self back, because at the moment she wasn't sure she liked the new version of herself.

For a moment she thought she saw something on Thorin's face, but it was gone before she could even begin to make heads or tails of it. The mask had slipped, but it was back in place within the second. As frustrating as that was, it was probably for the better. She did not really want to know what he thought about this matter. It was better for her peace of mind.

He gave a curt nod. 'Good.'

Part of Kate was relieved that he seemed to understand how this worked. It was just that a bigger part of her was somewhat disappointed. But then, Thorin Oakenshield was not known for concerning himself with trivial things like sentimentality. And this was not a story, nowhere near it, not in real life anyway. And if it was a story, then it was not a romantic one. Tolkien wasn't known for writing a lot of romance after all.

'Good,' she echoed. 'Then can we please stop with this awkward business and go on as we did before? You know, I quite miss those idiotic questions of yours.' The attempt at humour was feeble and utterly failing because of the underlying pleading tone. Romance was out of the question for the obvious reasons, but Kate missed the friendship and she would hate to lose it over something as ridiculous as this, just because she had been unable to keep control of her own heart. She knew she would lose it within the next few months anyway, when she would inevitably return home, but she could enjoy it while it lasted. Her heart would be broken either way.

Thorin arched an eyebrow at her. 'The blow to the head must have addled your memory,' he informed her. 'I believe you accused me of asking you a stupid question not ten minutes ago.'

Thank goodness that he had picked up on this. He realised what it was she was asking and he was complying. It was a relief, she would admit. And so she ignored her heart – it would be no good to let that rule her head anyway – and went with the banter, simply choosing to be grateful that that part of their friendship had not gotten lost.

'Well, you used to do it more frequently,' she felt obliged to point out, even if she was sure that he had not truly insulted her. That he had not done for quite some time, she now realised, and the shouting at one another seemed to have ceased to have happened altogether. She kept her voice light, even if her feelings were quickly descending into chaos. On one hand she felt like doing a happy dance around the Long Lake for not having lost Thorin's friendship, but an equally big part of Kate Andrews felt like crying, felt like as if she had lost something precious, even though she had never had it in the first place.

Why does life have to be so bloody complicated all the time? She had never meant for any of this to have happened, had never planned that she was going to Middle Earth in the first place. Kate had been content with her life the way it was until a certain wizard had not as much as nudged, but more like dragged her out of her door to go on some adventure that was supposed to be happening only in a famous novel. Neither had it been planned that she would end up befriending members of that company, quite against her own will as well. That was the kind of thing that was meant to happen in fanfiction only. And what she had certainly never planned for was to fall in love with Thorin Oakenshield, because that was the kind of thing reserved for those same fanfictions. Besides, she hadn't been intending to fall in love with anyone at all. That would only complicate things, because when this quest was done, she'd go home and she'd never see any of them again. It was as it should be. What had happened to her was nothing as it should be.

'I was under the impression you did not like it,' Thorin pointed out.

Kate arched an eyebrow, at the moment eager to keep the banter up as long as she possibly could. 'And you actually listened to me?' she inquired with mock incredulity.

Thorin did not smile or let her know that he in any way was amused by what she had said. His expression had morphed back into that mask that she found ridiculously hard to read. 'You are the company advisor,' he reminded her.

'So it says in my contract,' Kate shot back. And so it says in my oath as well. Of course it had to be that very oath, in fact both of the oaths she had made, that prevented her from distancing herself from the dwarf king, which was less than welcome news to her now.

'The men of Esgaroth,' Thorin began. 'I cannot say if they will welcome us.'

Kate frowned. 'The book says they will,' she said. Of course she should be the first to acknowledge the fact that the book was not always right, that, in fact, it was rather unpredictable. It had gotten the entire confrontation with Thranduil wrong, it had not made mention of either Galas or Elvaethor, although the last one was referred to as captain of the guard. The book never mentioned Azog either. Well, it did, but in the book that Defiler had been long dead. Things could, often would, differ from Tolkien's writings and Thorin would indeed be right to be cautious, because the people of Lake-town had excellent trade relations with the Mirkwood elves and Kate knew from her own world that people would do strange things when they believed their beloved economy to be in danger. And in danger it might be if the people of the Long Lake did something that Thranduil was bound not to like.

Still, there might be trouble looming, but this was something she could actually deal with. This was her area of expertise and it was decidedly a lot less risky than the matters of the heart, that should not even come anywhere near this quest.

'You know that the book is not always reliable,' Thorin said. It almost sounded as if he was reprimanding her.

'Are you asking me what I think we should do?' Kate asked.

The dwarf did not bother with a reply. Kate had come to see that it was a particular habit of his. His silence obviously meant yes, but if he said that out loud, it would sound as if he would not be able to make his own decisions, that he was dependent on others. So he left it to her to piece it together, so that at least he could truthfully deny having asked such a thing in the first place if he was ever asked about it. Kate would have to admit that it was not such a stupid idea at all.

She decided to comply with the unspoken request. 'Knock on the bloody door, see where that leads.' She shrugged. 'We can't hang around here all day or we'll all catch our deaths.' Even if the men of Lake-town were more willing to cooperate with elves than with dwarves, choosing a steady economy over the prospect of untold riches – as they well might – then that still didn't mean they would end up in Thranduil's dungeons again, because Kate was quite sure that not a single member of their company would go down without a fight. Besides, it wasn't as if there were a whole lot of other options available. They had no supplies, no dry clothes and all of them were wet and hungry. They needed to go somewhere. Lake-town was the only town in the neighbourhood. And the book stated they would find help there. Just this once, she hoped it was right.

Thorin nodded, as if this confirmed what he himself had been thinking. That was strange in and out of itself. Since when did he want her reassurance? 'You will pose again as my wife,' he told Kate brusquely.

The nerves returned with a vengeance. 'Must we do that again?' She knew full well she sounded like a whining child, but she could not care less. Keeping up that pretence marriage would mean shared quarters and that might bring back that awkwardness she had been trying to dispel. 'This whole we're-married-business is starting to look habit-forming.'

Thorin fixed her with the glare she had not seen directed at her person for quite some time. 'The elves will surely follow us here. We cannot be seen to have lied or the people will turn against us.'

Unfortunately that sounded far too logical. They did still have a good chance of getting a reception in book-style, but the people might not like them quite so much if they found out this company had not been honest with them. People could change their minds faster than one could say Erebor and public opinion was a very tricky thing. The last thing they needed was for the men of Lake-town to turn on them, especially not when the company was dependent on their help. And that of course was leaving the fact that Kate was a woman and as such could apparently not be seen to travel alone out of consideration. There really was not much choice at all.

It didn't mean she had to like it, although she now disliked it for entirely different reasons than she had before. 'Fine,' she snapped, sending an equally annoyed glare Thorin's way. 'Have it your way. Just don't try anything.' Translation: don't try anything like that kiss again. 'Or you'll be singing soprano for the next couple of decades.'


From Thorin's notes: Her words should not hurt me as they do, but I cannot deny that they pain me worse than any sword, Mahal help me.


Yes, I'm back again, which means regular updates from now on again if all goes well. I do have some bad news, because I realised I may have taken on too much by trying to juggle four stories at the same time. This means that Duly Noted will not get a regular update scheme for the next couple of months. It's not abandoned, but my focus for now is on the three on-going stories. As soon as Operation Wandless is finished, around November probably, it will be picked up again. Until then there will be the occasional update, but not much. If there are any changes in updates, I'll post it on my profile.

Anyway, Thorin and Kate's conversation did probably not turn out the way you wanted to, so I hope you won't come at me with pitchforks and the like. Next time: entering Lake-town proves to be something rather difficult. Until then, review?

Till Wednesday!