AN: Still don't own Lord of the Rings, or anything from The Hobbit.

A belated happy 2020 to everyone, and a Happy Lunar New Year to those who follow the lunar calendar.

I'm sorry for not posting sooner, but the holidays were busy, and so are things at work. Unfortunately, this means that writing has taken a bit of a backseat to all that. But here is a new chapter, which I hope was worth the wait.

Enjoy, and please don't forget to review.

Chapter 39: From One Realm to Another:

Our stay in Mirkwood was enough to make my head spin, due to the sheer amount of events that had been planned.

After the ball, I began to wonder if I had enough suitable clothing for the rest of our visit. But when I asked, Ethelwen assured me that it would be fine, for she had anticipated this sort of likelihood, and could modify any piece of clothing into something elegant with a few hours and a needle.

Thankfully, Thranduil gave us a few days to recover from the ball, for the next event scheduled was a tournament, and he wanted to allow those participating time to rest and squeeze in a bit more practice.

I admit, I was nervous about the tournament, for I didn't want anyone to get hurt. I'd been to one back home –it had had jousting and archery contests, as well as sword fights and falconry. But men had been hurt while participating, and I was terrified that I might have to watch someone get carried off the field on a stretcher.

Much to my relief, there was no jousting (there was no room for it), but the contests in archery, sword fighting, hand-to-hand combat, and knife fighting had me alternating between holding my breath in worry, and cheering loudly for the participants.

I had seen archers and fighters practice in Rivendell, but with my busy schedule, it did not happen often. But observing a practice session was vastly different from watching a contest. During the archery contest, each of the archers were constantly splitting each other's arrows, in an effort to hit the center of the target. The knife and sword battles created sparks when blades met, and I found myself praying that no one walked away with fewer fingers or limbs than when they started.

I was especially pleased to see female contestants mixed with the male, but somehow not really surprised. After all, Tauriel had risen to be Head of the King's Guard, so it would only make sense that there would be female warriors, or females who did it as a hobby.

As the King's guest, I was given one of the seats of honor. In the stands, my chair was to Thranduil's right, and as each contest was won, I had the task of presenting a prize to the winners. These tended to be pouches of coin, or finely worked leather belts with a beautifully sheathed knife or sword.

That night, after the tournament had ended, a great feast was held. Again, a steady flow of elegantly prepared food drifted past our chairs, with Thranduil himself serving us from large roasts of boar, venison, and beef. There was even roast suckling pig, something I'd never seen except in history or Christmas movies.

In the days that followed, there were more feasts, more elaborate balls, and even a few plays. One of the pieces performed was the tragic story of Luthien, the Elf Maiden who fell in love with a mortal. I wondered if it had been chosen because I was a human girl living with Elves, or some other factor, but decided it might just be a simple choice they made.

The play was well-performed, and even though I ended up getting teary-eyed for most of it, I rather enjoyed the presentation. Afterwards, I went to meet everyone involved in it, and praised them for their efforts.

On the days when no events were occurring, I had meals with my friends, shopped a little with Hithil and Ethelwen, and occasionally had a quiet evening where I did nothing but read a book by a fireplace, with a plate of delicious snacks and something soothing to drink.

Not that it was all fun and games. I knew that Thranduil often invited Glorfindel, Gandalf and even Balin to a private meeting, where a great deal of political maneuvering likely went on. I never heard of shouting or arguments of any kind occurring, so I assumed that it was going fairly well, especially since Glorfindel wasn't going around looking like he was ready to attack someone.

Gandalf eventually pulled me aside one day, while the others were resting one afternoon, to tell me what was going on behind closed doors. "For I do not like the idea of you not being aware of matters that might potentially concern you," he said.

Apparently Thranduil really did want a marriage alliance, but Gandalf suspected it was a desperate grasp, even for him. My wizard friend guessed, probably correctly, that the King only wanted a means to keep his son at home, rather than running wildly around Middle Earth.

"Thranduil loves his son very much, and is fearful of what might happen to him," Gandalf explained. "I suppose he thinks a marriage with a suitable young lady will keep him here, instead of galloping around on horseback. I also suspect Thranduil is willing to get any female he can, Elf or mortal, in his vain hopes to control his son."

I felt a small pang of sadness as Gandalf sighed and shook his head. "But I know Prince Legolas well, and he has his mother's free spirit. There will be a time when he finds a bride, but it will not be soon…or by his father."

Gandalf went on to say that Glorfindel flat-out refused any attempts at talk of a marriage. Apparently Lord Elrond was firmly against a political match for myself or Arwen, and would only condone a marriage that consisted of a love-match.

Of course, that wouldn't last, once he found out about Arwen and Estel…

Still, the visit went smoothly. Gifts from my foster father were bestowed on Thranduil by Glorfindel, and vice versa. I, too, received several more gifts from the King, all of which were presented with a great deal of grace from Thranduil's own hands.

What really raised my opinion of Thranduil, though, was his civil behavior towards Ethelwen.

I willingly admit that I very much expected the King of Mirkwood to treat my friend poorly, simply because she was not 'nobility.' Instead, I was happy to find her treated as she should be: my friend, confidant, and supporter.

Occasionally, after I had received an 'official' gift from Thranduil, we would return to my rooms to find a box or two there, with Ethelwen's name written on a paper tag. Her gifts weren't expensive or elaborate, but they were clearly a kind gesture –a few necklaces or bracelets for her to wear, as well as beautifully-made fabric for gowns.

Ethelwen was just as surprised at the gestures, and made a point of wearing one of her gifts whenever we were in Thranduil's presence. The knowing look in his eyes told me that he recognized this, and a few servants subtly indicated that Thranduil himself had a hand in choosing Ethelwen's presents. That only impressed me even more, and greatly raised my opinion of him.

By the last two weeks of my stay in Mirkwood, most of my feelings about Thranduil had changed. I did not think of him as a friend, exactly, but I began to get a feeling of understanding towards him. And thinking back to my old life and what I had observed of royal behavior, it finally hit me: Thranduil was acting like the British royals had, over a century ago.

It was odd to compare him to them, but things began making a lot more sense, at least to me. It was a term called 'public faces,' which was when a very important personage kept a cool, polite face in public, while hiding their real emotions behind a smooth mask. The British monarchy had practiced this art to perfection, though they were slowly starting to show a bit more warmth in public.

However, the British family had worked hard to appear sophisticated and elegant, but also somewhat approachable, in spite of their calm exteriors. Thranduil had rather taken it a dozen steps further, coming off as rude, arrogant, and cold as ice. Was it any wonder most people didn't like him, though they did grudgingly respect him as a good ruler?

My realization of this had come slowly, but when it did, I began to warm up to him. I think this change in my behavior startled him a little, but it also seemed to soften him just a little bit. I swore that I actually saw the tiniest smile on his face once or twice, while we were chatting.

As the visit wound down to a close, Thranduil decided to spare us another ball or event. Instead, it was mere a fine feast, with a final round of gift giving on all sides. Even Balin received something –an Elvish knife, small enough to hide in a boot or up his sleeve. He later joked to me that he would probably only use it to cut up apples or other fruits, but I think he also appreciated the gesture.

The day we departed Mirkwood, Thranduil came to see us off, with only a few of his courtiers in attendance. He bid us farewell, and politely requested that I return again in the future. I must have surprised Glorfindel with my very polite agreement to do so, but I meant it. I did want to get to know the Elf King better, especially after he made a point of kissing the back of my hand in farewell. It was a sweet gesture, and I rewarded him with a genuine smile of thanks.

In turn, he gave a slight bow and a small uplift in the corner of his mouth that could almost pass as a smile.

On that high note, my companions and I were off to Erebor.

"Balin, please tell me Thorin is not going to spend half his treasury on entertainments like we had in Mirkwood," I said to him, as we headed out onto the road. "I've had more than my fill of them."

From atop his pony, which pranced happily beside Shan, Balin chuckled. "Sorry, my girl, but I know for a fact that Thorin fully intends to welcome you with as much enthusiasm as you received here, if not more. You can be sure there will be a large amount of food, festivities, and fun to be had in Erebor."

I was able to put a smile on my face, but inside, I was wincing. 'Seriously, how do royals and dignitaries put up with these things on a constant basis?'

Yes, I know it sounded snobby, but after being wined, dined, and entertained in several major realms in Middle Earth, I was starting to get worn out by it all. Some people love being the center of attention, but that wasn't me.

'I'm like a hobbit that way. Give me a warm fire, a good book, something to nibble and sip on, and I'm happy.'

Our journey was a silent one, with Farion once again serving as our guide. A patrol had been sent out a few days before, to ensure there were no spiders in the vicinity, and to act as silent guards during our travels.

We reached the border in a few days, without incident, and at the edge of the forest, I bid a kind farewell to Farion and his retinue, before they faded into the woods.

Then it was on to Dale.

Someone had clearly written or sent a messenger ahead, because the entire population of Dale had shown up to greet us.

Glancing around, I was impressed at what had been accomplished in the years I had been here. The walls had been completely rebuilt, and stood high against possible invasion. I could see a few full rooftops and smoking chimneys poking up above the walls. The huge wooden gates stood open with half the inhabitants spread like a flood before them, while the other half remained inside.

And right smack in the center of those gates stood Bard the Bowman and his family.

As I rode closer, my blue gown rippling in the summer breeze, I was surprised at how they had all changed. Bard seemed the same, though there were a few more worry lines in the corners of his eyes, and a few strands of silvery hair dancing about in the wind. His clothing quality had improved, though I wondered if he'd donned it willingly, or if his daughters had forced him into the finery, because of the occasion.

Bain, Sigrid and Tilda were changed, too.

Bain had shot up at least three feet, now at the same height of his father –and Bard was not a short man. Bain also had his father's handsome, chiseled looks, which when combined with his slightly curled hair and glint of humor in his eyes was enough to wring any young girl's heart.

Sigrid was a woman, in every sense of the word at twenty years old or more. Her shoulders were pulled back, her head tilted into the wind, full of confidence and pride in herself. The deep brown dress she wore was of good quality, and added an air of maturity to her. I didn't see a man at her side, but I hoped she was being courted.

'Of course, if she decides to stay single, Bard probably won't mind.'

Tilda, however, surprised me the most. With all the years that had passed, she was no longer in that awkward place between childhood and teenager. Now, she was at the age where girls were being courted, or married and ready to have children.

'It's always hard, when you realize a child is grown,' I thought mournfully, thinking of Estel. My foster brother was almost fully grown now, and I had a feeling that he would not be in Rivendell very much in the near future.

My little friend had clearly forgotten about dolls, but not about clothes. While Sigrid's sensible side showed in her dress, Tilda had clearly created something in the Elvish fashion, with flowing sleeves, a loose waist and a skirt that fell gracefully down to just above the tops of her shoes. Even though it was a dusty blue color, the design made it very tasteful and elegant. Sigrid had been a promising seamstress when I'd left; if she had kept to that trade, it was quite possible that she'd helped her sister craft her gown.

'I guess I had quite the impact on her when I was here.' Whether that was a good thing or not remained to be seen.

As planned during our ride from Mirkwood, Glorfindel rode to my left, and Balin to my right. Ethelwen was directly behind Balin, with Gandalf to her left and the supply carts trailing behind, all of us surrounded by our guards.

Up through the cheering crowd we rode, causing me to experience a major sense of déjà vu. However, as I looked closer, I realized the people looked happier, healthier, and more prosperous. The trade treaties between Dale, Erebor and Mirkwood were clearly going well for them.

At the gates, Bard actually gave a warm smile as he approached us, walking past my guards as they slowly and carefully made way for him. "My lady," he said with a bow. "We welcome you once again to Dale. May I help you down, so that I may escort you to the Hall? We have a feast ready for you and your companions."

After he helped me dismount, Bard escorted me to his now-grown children. Bain gave a very nice bow, though his eyes kept straying towards the horses. I had no doubts about his future: Bard was probably training him to take over leadership of Dale, but the young man's heart clearly belonged to horses. I hoped that Bard would let Bain do what made him happy, rather than follow in his father's footsteps…though he might be able to do both, if he tried.

Sigrid dipped into a curtsey, while Tilda shifted energetically from one foot to the other. Finally, after following her elder sister's example, Tilda reached out and pulled me into a tight hug, a dazzling smile on her pretty face.

"I've missed you, Allie," she whispered into my ear.

That really made me feel guilty, but only for a second. I had sent letters over the years, and received them as well; in them, Tilda had asked that I visit, but travel in Middle Earth was definitely not like travel in my world. There were no planes, trains or cars; when someone went for a 'visit,' they tended to make it last a long time, to get the most out of it. After all, when would they get the chance to do so again?

But here I was, looking at Tilda's sweet face, and wondering if she had a suitor yet. Sigrid was more handsome than pretty, but hers was a face that would stay attractive well into old age.

"I've missed you, too, Tilda," I whispered back. "I hope your dolls stayed well-dressed for a long time?"

She laughed while pulling away, so that she could put her arm through mine. "They did. I've actually kept them as models for the gowns Siggy and I make, for the women of Dale. We manage our own shop."

As she talked, Tilda began leading me to Hall. When I had last visited, it had been in a horrible, rundown state, with little furniture and only a big fire in the center to warm and light it.

Today, the walls were new grey stone, the roof a cream-colored rock in the shape of a dome. Inside, tapestries hung between stone pillars carved with vines and flowers, each wall-hanging telling part of the story of the town. The floor was a simple, polished wood stained a dark brown that provided an air of elegance. It was a lovely building, clearly crafted by Men, Elves, and Dwarves.

Tilda's words reached my brain just as we walked through the Hall's front doors. "Gowns and a shop?" I asked. "So you both took my advice and started your own business? Good for you!"

She blushed. "Well, Papa isn't sure whether he should be pleased about it or not," she softly confessed, glancing over her shoulder at her father. "He's happy we have our own income, but fears that our being too 'independent' keeps suitors away."

There was a knowing glint in her hazel eyes. "Though, Siggy does have a young man who is interested in her. He's a weaver, and a good one. They like each other, but are waiting to see what Papa thinks before going too much further."

"Tilda!" Sigrid hissed, having overheard us. "Enough!"

By then, we had approached some giant wooden tables, all of which had chairs scattered around them, and food spread out on every bit of surface available. I stared at the bowls of stew, roasted pigs, and legs of beef or venison. It was quite different from the simple stew served to me the first time I'd visited.

'Yes, Dale must be doing very well, to have made this feast.'

Bard came forward again, leading me to a particularly large chair. "My lady, as you can see, we have put together a finer meal than what you previously had during your first journey here. We hope you enjoy it, as well as our most skilled musicians as you dine."

Those who had followed us inside grabbed a seat, while others began taking food out to the people who couldn't make it into the Hall. Bard, who took a seat to my left, explained that today was a 'holiday' to celebrate my arrival, and everyone was going to feast, enjoy the music, and dance if they chose to.

"I regret to say that I promised King Thorin that I would pass you on to Erebor as soon as you have eaten and rested," he said, looking as though he wished to do the opposite. "But I do hope you will visit us soon. Tilda has been saving all her dress designs to show you, and Sigrid wishes to talk to you about things she will not tell her poor father."

Looking over my right shoulder, I saw Ethelwen talking with Sigrid, who sat across from her. Balin, perched two seats over from mine, was conversing with Bain about something.

"And how goes your son?" I asked, glancing back at my host as I accepted a cup of white wine from a server. "He's grown quite handsome, as your daughters have grown quite lovely."

Bard sighed, but did not reply until after a server had placed a large slab of beef steak on his plate. "I am not worried about Bain. He loves his horses, but knows the people expect him to take over after me. But I will not allow him to forsake his happiness, so I allowed him to train with the beasts for a few years. I think he has hopes of keeping his own horses in the future, to ride out whenever his burdens get too heavy."

There was a sadness in his voice as he spoke, as though he could see his son's future. Bard clearly loved his boy, and wanted the best for him; whether that coincided with the best future for Dale was the question.

Bard's dark eyes drifted over to his daughters, who were seated further down, on the other side of Bain. "I confess that it is my girls I worry about most. They earn a good living, but I do want them married and settled down with children of their own. I fear I am trapped between wanting them to live their lives, and the lives I want for them."

I smiled and put a hand on his arm. "That is the way of parents. But yours is a unique situation, Bard, since the future of Dale also hangs in the balance. Your son could be a great leader, like you, and take Dale into a prosperous, golden future. But that will only happen if he wants that life. If he truly hates it, or does not want it, any choices he makes will be full of resentment and anger, which would destroy everything you've tried so hard to build here. You must think of that, and balance it with Bain's desires and choices."

Glancing over at his daughters, I had to hide a chuckle. "Your daughters, though, clearly know what they want, and how they want to live their lives. They are strong, independent, and smart. What more could you ask of them? Well, other than a marriage and children, but it should be their choice, whether or not to give up what they have worked so hard to build, and love very much to do."

The look Bard gave me wavered between frustration and amusement. "You are too clever for your own good, Allie," he said, reverting to my nickname. "However, I'm not as blind or as distracted by town business as the girls believe. I know of their suitors, though whether things go further than courting remains to be seen. If they choose marriage, I will only hope that their husbands do not ask them to give up their livelihoods."

"Then make sure you all sit down together and have a long chat about it," I suggested. "Ensure that the man they choose is smart, and willing to let them be who they are."

Then Balin was calling to Bard, asking about the beef being served, and if there was more of it. From there, talk turned towards food trade with Erebor, back to business as usual.

After the meal, my party was led out to where our fed-and-watered horses waited. With a (temporary) farewell to Bard, his family, and the townspeople, Balin led us towards Erebor.

To my immense disappointment, Thorin had done exactly as Balin described. A spectacle awaited us, though it was smaller than the one that had greeted me on my first visit here.

A crowd of Dwarves, including Thorin, waited on a large wood dais, all dressed in their finest. I saw quite a bit more jewelry than before –silver, gold, gemstones and such, all set in necklaces, rings, headpieces, and even decorative beads threaded through hair and beards. The metalworkers and jewelers had been busy.

Besides Thorin, I saw Dwalin, Balin's brother, as well as Fili. The Dwarf Prince was dressed in deep brown heavily trimmed in gold, which complimented his blonde beard and hair. Beside him was a rather pretty, older female Dwarf, who had hair several shades darker than his. The family resemblance between Fili and her was unmistakable, so I knew it had to be his and Kili's mother, Princess Dis.

To my shock, Kili and Tauriel were there, too. At their feet was stood a young boy, still a toddler, with Kili's dark hair and bright blue eyes. A baby sat crowing happily in Tauriel's arms, with her auburn hair and hazel-green eyes. I couldn't tell if the babe was a boy or girl, but the little thing was clearly in a good mood.

I tried to hide my confusion. Why hadn't they told me about their children? I had written several times, but gotten no response. 'Well, of course not. New parents are way too exhausted and busy to write letters.'

Still, I'd have liked to have heard from them once in a while, especially about something like this!

We stopped a good distance from the dais to dismount, and from there, Glorfindel escorted me up to greet the Dwarf King. I could tell my guardian wasn't happy about it, though, and I guessed (possibly correctly) that he still was very upset about Thorin's proposal all those years ago.

'Thorin's probably forgotten all about that,' I assured myself.

His few letters to me had never been romantic, nor had he ever hinted again at marriage. By now, there was probably a nice Dwarf woman in his life, one that he would soon marry and produce heirs with.

'Though I do feel sorry for Fili, since he'll no longer be heir to the throne when that happens.'

Holding out my hand, I smiled as Thorin took it. I expected a chaste kiss, like ones Thranduil had given…but I was wrong. Though it looked entirely innocent and very brief, I felt his lips linger just a bit too long, and felt his thumb gently stroke the back of my hand. His blue eyes, different from the ones I had seen in Galadriel's Mirror, were too warm and very intense.

I kept my smile firmly in place, but my insides quivered. Thorin Oakenshield still had feelings for me. Any hope I had for a simple, friendly visit had gone, for I knew that this time, he fully intended to win my heart.

-AN: Review?