Hello everyone!

Firstly, I just want to say that I am SO, SO SORRY for my long absence. As you can probably relate, the holiday season was full of chaos and mayhem, and I found NO time to write. Then, the dreaded demon of writer's block struck with a vengeance! And even my usual cure of turning to other WIP's didn't work. As well as all of that, I received a diagnosis of ADHD and Autism (finally). This wasn't much of a surprise, but, I can tell you, it has been a MAJOR adjustment. Trying to navigate my way through unmasking is so exhausting. Relearning ways of communication I'd been forced to conform to as an undiagnosed autistic with ADHD has been very, very hard. Then, as you all know, there is this horribleness in Ukraine. It is an emotional time, and one that has nearly driven me back into depression. I had my graduation ceremony for my masters degree (two years late), which was not so much stressful as it was space occupying in my mind. Then, I started a new job, got Covid, and then a horrid chest infection.

So thank you for your patience, and your continued faith in this story. I loved getting your reviews and messages during my absence and some reminded me to update edits I had managed to complete over this period, so thank you!

I'll put more notes at the bottom and let you get on to reading.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but original character and my original storyline for her. The Hobbit, LOTR, and other subsequent works belong to the Tolkien estate. All creative output by Peter Jackson, his interpretation, and movies belong to him and the relevant parties, including the actors interpretations and their acting choices.

Guest reviewer (1): Thank you so much! Sorry for the wait for a reply, and I really hope you get to see this. It's reviews like yours and readers like you that make all the stress of writing worth it! Thank you for writing to me! :)

Guest reviewer (2): Thank you for your lovely words! Sorry for the late reply, and I really hope you see this. I am so glad you're enjoying the story, and I hope you enjoy the rest! Thank you for taking the time to review! :)

Chapter 11

Rosalyn

The next morning, conversations were sparse and strained. The company moved around, breaking fast and gathering belongings with sour faces. Even Gandalf, who had kept back from the argument the night before, walked with drooped shoulders and a deep frown on his brow.

Ori, more than most, seemed effected by the sombre atmosphere, so I shared my secret peppermint stash and he cheered up considerably. We both ignored Dori's scathing comment on how the sweets would rot our teeth, proceeding to pop our second mints into our mouths with relish, much to the amusement of Nori. Our antics brought some smiles to faces, and a wicked gleam to Kíli's eye when we neglected to admit that after three sweets each that we both felt sick. It was swiftly agreed that the rest should be saved for later. Kíli meanwhile, took one mint as bribery to not tell anyone, and cackled to himself when he went back to his pony.

After that, I wrapped the bag with some twine Bombur had given me to ensure the bag wouldn't open and the sweets spill out.

"Thank you," I told him.

"You're welcome, lass," he mumbled, cheerful. I think he was the only one who wore happy ruddy cheeks this morning. "My own bairns have secret stashes for sweeties. Perfect for times like these."

He cast a glance back to Dori who was trying to scold Ori for taking the treats in the first place.

"I'll tell you about their pockets sometime," Bombur continued in a hushed tone. "Me misses don't even know 'bout the secret pockets, sewed them m'self."

He looked so proud of this fact, and such a light, pure secret had my lips lifting into a grin. Imagining this adorable Dwarf conspiring with his children to keep sweets secret from their mother, was such an innocent scene that it made my heart hurt. I wanted to ask him how old his children were, but Bofur called for his brother from the other side of the camp.

"Till later, lass,'' he bid before trotting off, his circular beard swinging with his steps.

Ori appeared back at my side and mutinously muttered that Dori could do without being proved right all the time. As Ori told it, such mentions of jokes, rebellion and gluttony indulged to the point of regretfulness, only led to an inflated ego and his eldest brother strutting around as if he were Mahal's gift to Dwarves for the ensuring few days. While I watched his brother mount his pony, I saw Dwalin roll his eyes and sigh. It looked like others shared Ori's thoughts.

But, despite our queasiness, Ori mentioned that he was intrigued by the mysterious appearance of the bags, and he conspired with me while we readied our ponies as to who the culprit may be.

It was a welcome distraction from the morbid thoughts that had intruded upon my sleep the night before.

"You're certain the bags were not in your pockets when you first put the coat on that morning?" He asked, having already ascertained that the bags may have magically appeared from nowhere. Although I'd not counted that as a possibility, Ori thought it was a reasonable option to consider. He was quick to point out Gandalf's apple, and his swift and accurate reasoning brought my attempts of refutal to an end.

"I'm certain," I replied, having already had this conversation with myself umpteen times in my head.

Ori nodded, in a manner rather like his brothers with long downward tilts of his chin, while his eyes narrowed in deep thought. Sometimes I caught myself watching the company, as I was watching Ori now. Their mannerisms and traits were all at once amusing and puzzling. Alike Hobbits in numerous ways, it was the cultural and familial quirks which caught my eye and interest. Like how Ori and his brothers nodded the same way. Did I nod like someone I once knew?

"So," he mused, weighing his words with the care of someone far older. "Someone must have placed them there between you leaving your room and entering the yard, or we would have all seen them do it."

He paused, pondering with a frown that was too large for his face.

Beside me, Bilbo muttered to himself under his breath as he secured his saddle. His words sounded dark and bitter, but I couldn't catch them. He had been out of sorts since the argument last night, and was making a conscious effort to avoid the eyes of anyone else. Even me.

It was deeply troubling and a pain twisted in my gut when I thought of him deciding he no longer wished to be a part of the company. He could very well leave us all, I doubted that Thorin would hold him to his contract what with the fierce disquiet about the leader. I hoped Bilbo wasn't thinking of running back to Hobbiton. Even if I wanted to join him, deep down I knew doing so would cut my ties to the company, and I wanted to stay and learn about my people. To turn my back on them and leave with a Hobbit? It was doubtful Thorin would overlook such a betrayal.

"Bilbo?" I called softly, worried he would startle.

He did, jolting so abruptly I heard his teeth clack together. It took him a moment to gather himself, but he did, to my surprise, turn to me.

"Yes, Rose?" I noticed that when he was stressed or concerned, he often favoured to call me by this nickname. I did not mind, in fact, I rather enjoyed it. The familiarity warmed the space in the middle of my chest.

"Are you well?"

He nodded, eyes drifting somewhere over my shoulder as he hummed.

"Are you sure?" I pressed as Ori turned to attend to his pony's bridle.

Bilbo nodded, but his eyes became focused. I turned to see what had caught his attention. Thorin was stood beside his mount, one hand brushing the pony's mane, while he held the beast steady with the other on its bridle. It was his face that caught my, and evidently Bilbo's, attention. Mouth pressed thin, and his eyes fixed on us both…no, me. He was watching me. When my eyes caught his own he turned away, but not before I saw the sour downturn of his mouth. As if my mere presence left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Rosalyn?" Ori inquired sweetly, a hesitant hand on my own which was endeavouring to strangle the leather reins I held.

"Oh," I breathed as I came back to myself. "I'm all right, Ori, thank you."

Bilbo cast me a meaningful look before he turned back and mounted his pony. Ori, presumably having also seen who was looking our way, tried to smile but the attempt twitched with nerves and ended up resembling a grimace.

A little while later, after much complaining both Dwarven and Equestrian (Ori had been gleefully teaching me words and phrases I was not familiar with), we halted. The long decline from the rocky crag had been precarious, and not helped by the undulating hills and muddy terrain that sent the ponies sliding about in fearful fits. While glad we had missed the rainfall that created the muck, I was not happy at the splattering of mud that slapped across my face and self when Bilbo's pony panicked as she lost footing on one particularly wet slope.

The company, meanwhile, erupted into raucous laughter.

"You're a true Dwarf now, lass!" Nori cried.

"Why's that?" I asked, wiping my face as best I could, lamenting the speckled staining on my beautiful new coat. The leaf littered brown did not compliment the deep red.

"You've tasted your first mud!" Glóin chuckled. "Makings of an adult Dwarf that is!"

That didn't sound real. Had he made that up?

"It is?" I asked, hesitant, sure they were playing a trick on me.

But he remained jovial. "Sure is, lass!"

They all watched me, jubilant. Even Gandalf nodded to himself, eyes set in a pleased crinkle. Maybe it was a common saying amongst Dwarves? How would I know any different? The thought brought a sharp pain to my chest so I focused on Bilbo's face. He too was confused, thankfully.

He also saw how I was picking at the mud that was quickly drying in the noon day sun.

"May we stop soon?" Bilbo asked, eyes flickering from my hands to Thorin were he was guiding his pony over the last rock spotted patch of the trail.

I watched him, shocked. My friend had been quiet all morning, speaking a handful of times during our ride and even those had been sparse and only when someone asked him something that required a verbal response, not just hums of agreement or disagreement. Now, I could see the Bilbo who walked me through Hobbiton and confronted Aldagrim Took.

"Aye," Dwalin was quick to agree. "We've passed through the worst of it, let's get the ponies clean. Let 'em rest a while, Thorin."

Thorin did not grumble, that I could hear, and nodded.

"So be it," came his answer. "We'll rest here. I can see a clear area ahead."

The verdict pleased everyone, especially the ponies who nosed at the undergrowth and shook their manes in the sunshine.

The clearing was a swathe of long grass and wildflowers on the cusp of a sprawling coppice. It looked like the Shire, but I knew we had left the Shire far behind us. Berry nosed at my hip once I'd dismounted, which in and of itself was a little scary without help. She didn't wait for me to settle myself and was intent on the bag she wanted, even knowing which pocket it lay within. One sugar lump and ear scratch later, she seemed placated and left me with a swish of her tail to nibble on some grass.

I dropped my pack to stretch my aching legs and back. Arms thrust into the air, I heard and felt my back pop. The effect was so pleasant, I couldn't help but moan at the sensation. No one was nearby, thankfully, but that didn't mean I wasn't embarrassed.

So I shed my coat and began to brush it off. Gandalf appeared at my elbow…well…I appeared at his, given the height difference.

"I see you have Belladona's cloak," he observed.

"Yes," I replied. "Bilbo gave it to me to wear my first day in Hobbiton, he insisted I bring it along on the journey as I have no cloak of my own."

"It suits you, my dear."

"I forgot, you knew her, didn't you Gandalf?"

"I did."

"What was she like?"

His face became soft and warm, full of affection.

"She was a breed of creature rare to Middle Earth," he said. "I have encountered few as genuinely kind and wonderful as she."

"Is Bilbo like her?"

The Wizard chuckled. "More than he probably knows, or will admit."

"How so?"

"Well, he is certainly his father's son, in appearance, however, there is an air of Tookness about him that cannot be denied."

"Tookness?"

"Hmm, yes, it's a term his mother coined for the fancies and eccentricities of the Took family." He smiled down at me. "It suits rather well, don't you think?"

"It does," I agreed. "Gandalf?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think I'm worrying for no reason? About Hobbiton, and my friends, I mean. Do you think I should be concerned?"

He grew ruminative. "I think that if those who were responsible for your condition when you awoke were to seek you out again, they would not be able to pass through Hobbiton unscathed."

"Hobbits aren't a violent people."

"No, not normally," he concurred, giving a grumbling sort of hum as he thought. "But these are not normal circumstances, are they?"

"No," I had to conceded, hating the path my thoughts took. "No, they aren't."

Later, most of the group dispersed, milling around doing whatever best they had found to accompany their thoughts and restless hands, I found myself listless. The rock beneath me had grown cold, the sun shaded by thick clouds. While the wind was cool in the sun's heat, without it, the air nipped at exposed flesh with the promise of winter. The others didn't seem to mind the cold, though I saw Bilbo shake when a stronger breeze played with the long grass around us all.

Kíli caught my eye as I gazed around, and waved a hand to beckon me over. He held something in his hands, but I didn't pay much mind, I'd been wanting something to do for a while now. Yet every time I had asked if I could help anyone, my questions had been shaken off with a smile and a pat on the head.

As I stood up, a pressure fell on the exposed nape of my neck. It was cold, as if a hand had fallen there after plunging into ice water. Yet it was the pressure that halted my movements. As firm as that phantom hand it felt like, it gripped my neck with tightening strength. I knew there was no one there, no body to connect this feeling to, no person to whom I could hold accountable. But I felt it.

Desperate, my eyes tried to find Kíli, but he wasn't there anymore. I couldn't see him. I couldn't see anyone. I was alone in the meadow, without even the ponies or Gandalf's horse for company. The luggage had likewise disappeared, but the biting wind remained.

Was I dreaming? Or was this another vision? But…I'd never had a vision whilst awake before.

I bit the inside of my cheek, Bilbo had once told me that one cannot feel pain whilst dreaming, but began to despair when I felt the sharp explosion of pain. I bit down harder, savagely digging my teeth into the thickness of the flesh. So panicked was I, I didn't realise I couldn't taste my own blood until my jaw began to ache.

No images pressed themselves to my eyelids, instead, the smells and sounds of laughter and blazing fires, assaulted my senses.

"Give 'er another," someone called, chuckling.

Male, young, and jovial like Kíli, but with a distinct accent I couldn't place. That he spoken Westeron made me wonder if it was a Man.

Frantic, I searched, but could see no one. I was still alone.

Something hit my cheek so hard my head whipped to the side. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the meadow, but still my phantom attacker did not materialise.

"She cries prettily," another voice hummed. Older, still male, and with a mouth full of something. He was eating. The wet sound of open mouthed mastication turned my stomach.

Heavy footsteps over rock, to my left, someone venturing closer. But still, when I turned, there was no one there. I tried to cry out for Bilbo, for Fíli, Kíli, anyone, but though my lips would part, no sound came.

What was this paralysis? Had I been cursed?

"If you mark her, you'll pay for it like for like," a third voice warned.

This one was female, but rough, aged by years of smoking a pipe.

There was a grunt os displeasure. "Thought he didn't mind if we roughed 'er up a bit?"

"He doesn't," she replied, flat. "But I do."

"Yeah? Why's that then?"

I felt someone's breath on my face. It smelt of ale and dried meat.

"I have plans for this one," came the feminine reply.

Something moved my hair, struck still by fear, I watched as a curl from my forehead was moved and tucked behind my ear. I could feel the delicate brush of fingertips against the shell of my ear, their touch lingering on the point there.

"Oh yes," the woman hummed, pleased in a way I didn't understand. "You've got something big in your future, my dear. Something big and bad, and delectably bloody." She laughed, low and deep in her throat before her voice came closer, words whispered into the ear she had stroked. "What I wouldn't give to be there, I wager you'll be breathtaking as you cry then."

My vision returned, and I was back in the meadow, lain curled with my knees against my chest, on the rock I had previously stood from, and frighteningly dazed. Kíli was sat beside me now, a water skin in hand. He smiled when he saw me looking at him.

"Sleep well?"

"Sleep?" I echoed, horse.

He nodded. "You dropped off about a half hour ago," he told me, tone even and pleasant. "I was going to ask you to come help me check the saddle bags, but Balin told me to leave you sleeping. Sorry if I woke you when I called, I hadn't seen you had lay down."

Neither had I known I had laid down.

Just what had happened here? Had I been awake? Or had that all been dream? If it was a dream, how had I seen Kíli call me to help him? Had the sight of him been a half-awake vision peeked through sleep cracked eyelids? My head began to pound. The tingling at the nape of my neck gripped tighter, and I tried to take a breath but it hurt my chest.

No, it was not entirely a dream.

"What is it Rosie?" Kíli prodded, nudging his elbow into my arm, a pensive frown digging into his brow. "You're far away, where'd you go?"

I shook my head, but the feeling of the hand didn't dissipate.

"I'm not sure," I admitted, slow, choosing my words carefully, lest I fall back into the same state as before. Because of Daisy, jinxing luck was a matter I was well versed in. Was I even awake now? It had felt so real, so tangible. I didn't mean to speak my next words aloud: "Maybe, it was a memory."

Kíli latched onto them, however. Brightening, he sat up straighter, cheeks rounding as he smiled.

"Really?" He gushed, reaching out to steady my elbow as I sat up beside him with shaking limbs. The side I'd been lain on, my left, was full of numbness. "What have you remembered?"

Hesitant, I wasn't sure how to explain it all to him.

"I'm not entirely sure they aren't visions, to be perfectly honest," I admitted, biting the inside of my cheek. The pain helped. It reminded me that I was awake. While I had felt pain in the…dream…I hadn't been able to taste my own blood. "It's not nightmares, not really. But, I don't think it was entirely memory, either. I don't feel panic, terror, or fear…it's somehow worse than that…I felt…I feel uneasy. Unsettled. As if the ground beneath my feet arches up in a slope and I can't alter fast enough to stand upright."

Kíli, for all his jovial brightness, grew solemn.

"What happens when you lose your balance?" He asked.

A sob pained my chest as I tried to suppress it, but it broke free in a gasp. Kíli's hand reached for my own, squeezing them as he swallowed.

"I don't know," I told him. "Sometimes…sometimes I see things, hear things, and I think those are memories, scraps of voices, sounds, tastes, touch, but there are...most memories aren't…good." My stilted explanation took longer as I fought to breath through the panic bubbling in my throat.

"Rosie," he spoke softly, moving to knock my chin upward with a soft nudge and make me meet his dark eyes. "What did you see just now?"

"I didn't," I admitted. "I felt it."

"Felt what?"

"Pain."

Disturbed, he pulled me into his side, one arm around my shoulders, the other reaching over to clutch at my right elbow. In the cradle of his arms, I felt safe. He cooed and shushed me as if I were a babe who had woken squalling in the middle of the night.

"You're safe," he told me. "You're here, with us. We'll keep you safe, I promise, Rosie. There's nothing to fear."

It sounded like words his mother had told him to keep the nightmares at bay. I didn't want to disagree with him. Didn't want to admit that whatever it was, had gripped me and taken me away from them even while I was in their midst. For all they had know, I had been safely entombed in slumber. Kíli asked what had happened in the dream, but I didn't want Kíli to know the darkness in my mind. To relive the experience was to give it weight, reality in the here and now. To let the monsters in my head out. To shed light into the shadow filled corners that haunted my waking hours and drew a fluttering pain to my chest. I couldn't tell him. He couldn't know the danger I felt when I closed my eyes to sleep, or the long time it took for sleep to grab me and pull me under. He couldn't know that what I had remembered stuck on my skin like smoke smudges the air.

He couldn't know that some memories had teeth, and mine did not allow escape once fangs pierced flesh.

Two Dwarves, there were two male Dwarves talking. It was the rumble of deep voices that jolted me to sense, out of the dream-stuck delirium of fading to and from deep sleep.

The room I was in was vast, cavernous and empty. With no warmth, no solace, no sense of home or belonging to it. The Dwarves themselves were not any of the company, but their features spoke of familiarity. The elder of the two wore a crown on his head, made of gold and a dark metal I didn't know, shaped in a fashion akin to the embroidery on Fíli's jacket. With long, greying beards and wisened, creased eyes, I surmised that they were nearer to the ages of Balin and Oín than Ori and Kíli.

"Thrain!"

At the elder's shout, I startled. In the midst of my observations, they had been speaking in rapid, hissed Kuzdhul. The name was the only word I could understand, and the only one I knew.

Thorin's father.

And, judging by the way the two interacted, the shape of their noses and the peak of their hairline, the other must be his father, King Thror.

This all helped. As now I knew I was witnessing a moment of the past, not present or future. Yet the only thing that gave pause, it was as if I were witnessing this through a dirty window pane. The figures were blurred, distorted in the way raindrops disturb the silhouette of flowers.

Thror pointed to the throne behind them both, a feature I had missed. Sitting high above the chair was a gleaming white light. A stone was cradled in pride of place at the crest of the thrones carvings. His brandished finger jabbed toward the stone two, three times while Thror spoke. All the while his son pausing his lips and shaking his head. It was clear they were arguing and perhaps had been for some time.

When Thror was finished Thrain spat something out in a deep growl and beat his chest with his fist. His dark eyes were aflame, the anger he felt thickening the air to palpable bitterness. Even through the passage of time, and the magic that granted these visions to me, I could feel his anger. He shook his head, swiping at the air widthways across his chest with an open hand when his father began to talk over him.

From the melee of words I heard: "Jalâdishi 'ala!"

Napping while we stopped had been a mistake. The feeling didn't go away, and had left a vision instead of wakefulness. There wasn't time to think on the words, the Dwarves who I had seen and heard, because Thorin roused all the dozing Dwarves and ordered that we make headway before nightfall.

I walked as if still ensnared in the dreamscape that had captured my senses. Limbs heavy as if laden with sodden clothes, head doozy in murky thoughts, I followed the troop to mount once more. Not even Berry's gentle nuzzle against my face was enough to rouse me from this waking slumber.

The creak of leather beneath my hands drew a wince as the sound echoed that of the leather gloves worn by the one I'd seen. Who were they? My captors? Sense told me that yes, they were most likely the ones who had held me and been the cause of the rope inflicted bruises around my wrists, but I didn't want to admit to myself that it had happened. That I had been prisoner, held against my will by beings I did not know the intention of.

"I have plans for this one," the woman's voice curled around my mind like smoke vapour clung to cloth. Saturating it with the intent in her tone, intent I could not decipher, or even begin to comprehend.

She had sounded so…pleased, as if gaining an achievement hard won.

"You've got something big in your future, my dear. Something big and bad, and delectably bloody." Delectably bloody? Whose blood? My own, or others? "What I wouldn't give to be there, I wager you'll be breathtaking as you cry then."

She had taken pleasure in my pain and fear, both present at the time and that which she imagined would lie in my future.

As we trekked on, I fought a shiver as her words repeated themselves over and over. It would do me no good to worry over them, not when there were more pressing matters than the foggy recollection, for now I was sickeningly sure it was one. My only hope was that other memories were not so dark.

Khuzdul translations: Jalâdishi 'ala!" : I hate this!

Apologies for the shortness of this chapter, I was editing it and the end fell flat, so I didn't want to give you a lacklustre ending. I will update this chapter with the end once I have tweaked it. As always, apologies also for any grammar or spelling mistakes, dyslexia is a B word.

Also, another reason why this took so long is that I have been going through the previous chapters and sharpening some points. I will be updating past chapters as I go through them. There are some big changes, as you might be able to tell by the word count having gone up by a couple thousand words. I've updated up to chapter 7, and am working through the rest. I don't have a Beta reader so your gal's got to do it all herself!

I now have an AO3 account! Finally got my butt in gear, so I have begun uploading this story to the site soon and will then go on to update on both. Don't worry, I will continue to upload here as well. My username over there is TravellingWitch, please feel free to come say hello. Going forward, more mature things will be posted over there to comply with FanFiction's terms and conditions. But if anything is pertinent to the plot that I do not post here, I will write something to explain/show what happened without any saucy/gory details.

Quick question/survey/poll: Who would be interested in a Stranger Things Fic BillyxOFC? Supernatural AdamxOFC? King Kong JimmyxOFC? Marvel (multiple pairings)? AUStar Wars PoexOFC x 2? Eternals AU DruigxOFC? Just curious. These are all works in progress that I've been writing as a way to get past writers block, and some are really shaping up into something that might be fit for publication in the coming months. If you'd like some more details, let me know, I'm happy to oblige! I've also got some more ideas like Moon Knight, Dune, etc. I wouldn't be able to update regularly (it's me, let's not kid ourselves) but I might post the first chapter of a couple to see what the response would be.

It really does mean a lot to me that so many people read and review my story. In the grand scale of things it feels very insignificant at times to just be throwing out creative work when all around more successful creations are much louder, brighter, whatever. But getting a review, or seeing that this story has been favourited always puts a smile on my face and never fails to lighten my day. So from the bottom of my heart thank you, my wonderful readers.

Take care and stay safe, lovelies!