12. Fear of Falling

A/N: Oh hey reader friend, welcome to another chapter. Nothing to report except that earlier, on my way to get groceries, I saw a tiny puppy named Smoky wearing a coat. I hope you get to see something equally delightful today.

She meandered back to the Dwarves' balcony in a light daze, already keenly anticipating midnight.

It was a tricky balance, hope and scepticism. The fact was, she was no closer to clarity than she'd been when that infernal, impossible door had slammed behind her in the Shire — maybe the Elves could help her, maybe she could get home … maybe not.

'Sarah!' Ori waved to her, snapping her out of her musings. 'We were starting to wonder if we'd ever see you again.' He was only half-joking.

Bifur and Dwalin were casually starting to chop up a side table for some kindling; Bofur was counting sausages. Wow, Sarah thought, they must really hate the vegetarian menu if they were starting to dip into their own rations despite there being a veritable feast available every night. Meanwhile, Nori was taking dry clothes down from makeshift washing lines and hanging up new ones. They must have had their - ahem - "fun" in the outdoor fountain already. No wonder they all looked so squeaky clean.

'You were with Lord Elrond a long time,' Bilbo said, leaning against a column and looking distinctly less relaxed than he had earlier in the day.

Thorin looked up from polishing his (non-Elvish) sword. 'Were you now? For what purpose?'

He wanted to learn about my world, she held up for him to read. I didn't tell him anything about the quest.

Thorin sighed. 'He already knows. I told Gandalf this detour would only be counterproductive.' Then, remembering who he was talking to, he asked if the Elf-lord had figured out how to get her home.

Not yet.

Thorin said nothing, which must have taken a considerable degree of restraint. It was almost as if he wanted her to remain stuck in Middle Earth, just to prove his point that the Elves couldn't be relied upon anywhere near as much as others liked to think.

Having spent the last two days mostly apart from the company, Sarah decided to stick around on the balcony as blood orange sunset handed over to an ink-blue night. Bofur offered her some meat and bread, hot off the fire that they definitely shouldn't have started in the middle of the floor. She accepted the offering gratefully, and laughed with the others when he tossed Bombur the fateful sausage that broke the table beneath him. Kili almost fell off his chair in hysterics.

'How about a song, lad?' Gloin said to Bofur, who waved him off.

'Ah, not tonight. My voice is plenty tired and could use a rest.'

'Yes, so you can keep wittering away tomorrow and all the days after,' Dori jibed, earning a bread crust to the forehead.

'Anyone else?' Gloin asked the others. 'It's too quiet around these parts for my liking.'

'What about a ballad?' Ori suggested. 'Or a story?'

'Ooh, I like a good story,' Bilbo said, just loudly enough to be heard.

'You know any?' Dwalin said.

'Uh … nothing particularly thrilling. Unless you count the dust-up between Farmer Brownlock and Farmer Noakes over whose pumpkin deserved first prize at the autumn fair …' He laughed awkwardly. Oh Bilbo, Sarah thought, you'll be accepted in time, you just don't know it yet.

'I know,' Kili said between puffs on a pipe. 'How about a tale of a strange lander, in light of present company?' He nodded at Sarah, who grinned — that would actually be very cool, to hear how accounts of Tolkien's wanderings had evolved into full-blown myths and fairytales.

'I remember just the one,' Oin said. 'The tale of the strange lander, the bats of Tolfalas, and the everlasting fire.'

'Oh yes, you used to tell that one to Gimli when he was a wee bairn,' Gloin said, 'when he had that terrible cough and couldn't sleep for nights on end.'

'I haven't heard that one since I was a bairn,' Fili said. 'Go on then, Oin, take it away.'

Sarah listened, quite spellbound, to the simple but entertaining account of a strange lander by the name of Jin (John, lost in translation?) who crossed into Middle Earth at the cost of being able to feel anything - cold, heat, pain - on his skin. For one reason or another, "Jin" was sent on a quest by some long-forgotten king to retrieve a flame that could never be extinguished, because why not. His quest took him on all sorts of adventures to the coastal region of Tolfalas in South Gondor, and deep inside an ominous cave, where the fire burned under fierce protection from supernaturally sized bats. The only way the strange lander could get the fire out of there was by lighting a torch with it, then throwing the torch to the other side of the cave to distract the creatures.

'Then he gathered up the fire into his arms, feeling nothing even as the flames licked hungrily at his skin like wolves, and he leapt into the dark cave waters to escape. But the way out of the tunnel was longer than he had air in his lungs to see him through it …'

Luckily for Jin, a mermaid appeared at that exact moment and gave him a life-saving kiss to tide him over until he broke through to open water. Happy days.

'I don't remember that part,' Nori interjected. 'Are you sure you're not confusing this story with the one about the strange lander and the sirens?'

Whether intentionally or not, Oin's hearing trumpet was resting in his lap, so he didn't pay interruptions like this a modicum of attention. He went on to explain the strange lander's dilemma once he was safe on shore, 'for the mermaid now wanted the everlasting fire for her own people, as payment for her heroism.' Jin negotiated until she agreed to take just part of the fire on a torch, which she brought back to her underwater homeland so they could light their way in the darkest corners of the sea. En route back to the nameless king's fortress, the strange lander wound up giving away tongue after tongue of flame to anyone who needed it.

'By the time he reached the king, the fire was no bigger than a single candle. The king was outraged. "What do you call this, you fool?" And Jin answered, simply, "A gift." And so every household in South Gondor was blessed with light.'

Sarah resisted the urge to clap like a child, but she made her appreciation clear. The story had done Bilbo some good too — he seemed more at ease and less self-conscious, dividing his glances between the Dwarves and the night sky.

'Ooh!' he exclaimed, sitting up suddenly.

'What is it?' Kili said.

'I think I just saw— yes! A shooting star. A whole host of them, in fact.'

Sarah and Kili rushed to their feet at the same time. Kili's face lit up. 'Cor, you're right! They're coming in like arrows. Wow.' The view from under the roof wasn't the best, so Kili tapped Sarah's arm and encouraged her away from the balcony. 'Come, let's get a better view down in one of the gardens.'

Sarah was only too happy to hurry alongside him, the fabric of her dress in hand so she wouldn't trip over herself. It was another garment from the Elves-in-waiting, this one in royal purple. 'To match the gems in your ears,' Minassiel had said. It was one of the most thoughtful gifts she'd ever received.

They found a wooden bench by a wall of the courtyard where they'd breakfasted, now deserted and cloaked in indigo shadows. The two of them perched on the bench and watched shooting stars dart across the sky like fish through a black ocean. Sarah would never get bored of this sky, of these stars. This was the kind of sky that thousands of people trekked to the furthest reaches of Earth - to Chile, South Africa, Australia, Svalbard - to see.

'I've never seen so many before,' Kili said. 'And I've spent many an hour gazing at the stars, waiting to see what they'll do next.'

Sarah adored the way his face looked right now: turned upwards, dark eyes gleaming not only with starlight, but with wonder. This - being rooted to the ground while his soul navigated the cosmos - was his happy place.

'I know you can't see as many stars in your sky,' he said, 'but the ones you can — do they look like ours at all?'

Good question. Sarah had only the most rudimentary understanding of astronomy — her dad had bought himself a telescope at the peak of his midlife crisis, but treated it less as an instrument than an ornament. She narrowed her eyes, trying to find something familiar amid the gleaming tangles of light.

Wait … She tilted her head. Yes, there it was: Orion's belt. Three stars of equal size, studded equidistant from one another in a neat line — probably the easiest constellation to spot. She pointed it out. Kili leaned in, following her arm, until his ear was practically against her neck.

'Oh yeah, I always forget about the Three Sisters.'

Three Sisters? Interesting.

'Not everyone calls it that,' he said. 'It's a Dwarf thing. An old story: before anything began, there were three sisters. Past, Present, and Future. Together they brewed a potion to make a world in miniature, but Present let it slip from her hands and the world spilled everywhere, mixing all of their magic together. We like to think that they decided it was a happy accident, and that ever since, they've been watching over us from the sky.'

I like that.

They looked at each other and realized just how close they were sitting. Sarah waited for Kili to shy away, but he didn't. Instead, he looked down at her hand and picked it up in his, which sent an electric thrill through her bones.

Calm down, Stokes. She reminded herself that it had been well over a year since she'd gone on anything remotely resembling a date, and too many months since she'd last touched another person. Of course everything felt ten times as intense as it normally would — nothing had been normal for a long time.

'I saw a fire moon once,' Kili said, splaying out his palm against hers, comparing the height of their fingers. 'Do you have those, back home?'

I don't know. What's a fire moon?

'It's when the sun and the moon, normally strangers to each other—' (he encased her hand in both of his) '—suddenly cross paths. Very rare. It just takes your breath away.'

Ohhh, so that's what he'd meant when he told that story in Desolation of Smaug: a lunar eclipse.

'The one we saw rose over the pass near Dunland: huge. Red and gold it was. It filled the sky.'

Wait. The story he wasn't due to tell for a whole film instalment — he was telling it now, to her.

'We were an escort for some merchants from Ered Luin,' Kili continued, oblivious to Sarah's surprise. 'They were trading in silverwork for furs. We took the Greenway south, keeping the mountain to our left, and then it appeared. This huge fire moon, lighting our path. I wish I could show it to you now. I'm probably not doing it justice.'

No, no, you are. Her hand almost brushed the side of his face … he noticed. He smiled. Then, as he looked into her eyes, the smile was replaced by a searching look. He was weighing up whether or not to ask her something.

'When that other Wizard - Radagast, that was his name - when he looked into your eyes, it was as if he saw something the rest of us couldn't. He told you he was sorry. Why?'

Sarah slipped her right hand out from under Kili's to reach for her sketchbook, but kept hold of his with her left. She could have written new words for him, but didn't want to break this connection they had, a connection she'd been craving with someone - with anyone, let alone someone as lovely as him - for so long. She flipped back a few pages and hoped he wouldn't be too disheartened as she reminded him, It's a long story. Too long.

He did look a little disheartened. Sarah winced and nudged his jawline up with her fingertips.

I want to tell you why, she said, earnestly. But I don't know how. She pointed to her chest and extended her arm to encompass the courtyard. Right now my world is full of darkness. Full of sad things. Then she swept her hand around just the two of them. I don't want to spoil this moment with sad things. She gave a small smile, which grew when he smiled back.

He sighed through his nose. 'I— we're going to miss having you around, Sarah.'

She raised her eyebrows. All of you? I don't know about that. She gestured to her dress, and up to the lamplight that spilled out from the stone corridors above their heads. Thorin thinks I'm one of the Elves now.

'You sell yourself short. I know we Dwarves don't exactly rush to welcome outsiders, and I know my uncle can be a bit … stormy. But I think he just doesn't want to share you with anyone else. I think he's starting to come around to Gandalf's idea that you're our good luck charm. You certainly charm me.'

Sarah was glad it was dark — she was blushing. Get a grip, woman, she thought, fighting a battle she was already losing. God, he was gorgeous. And so close. He was right there. And she was right here.

I meant what I said. She pointed to his face. You, Kili, are a beautiful person. Outlined his heart and his face. Inside and out. Never forget that.

They looked at each other, still holding hands, and let the cool midsummer night finish the conversation. Kili closed the last bit of distance between them and - carefully, as it was probably a pretty significant move to make in Dwarvish culture - brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. His grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly, encouraging her to lean in. He smelled of smoke, and spices. How long had it been since she'd kissed someone? Would she remember how to do it properly? Oh God, she should have added more lipbalm, more perfume …

'Kili? Sarah? Are you out there somewhere?'

Of course. Of course the most ridiculously romantic moment would be interrupted by the company's most parental figure: Gandalf.

She and Kili stopped short of whatever it was they'd been about to do, the mood decidedly dead.

'We should—'

Yeah, probably.

He let her leave the bench first, then followed up the staircase a few seconds later, so it didn't look quite so obvious.

'Ah, there you are.' Gandalf appraised them both for a moment, one eyebrow quirked. 'Come. I must speak with you all, and it cannot wait.'

Really, Gandalf? Sarah scowled at the back of his head as they followed him back to the Dwarves' balcony. Can it really not wait?