A/N One step closer to Rivendell, Elrond's counsel, and the shadow of a lot of fond memories...

"My lord?" Ciril asked, repeating herself again when he didn't answer.

From his chair in front of the dying fire Aragorn pressed his fist to his lips, a scrap of blue wrapped around his knuckles. A third call got his attention and he sat up again. "My apologies, Ciril. What is it?"

"Lord Halbarad wished you to know the messengers have departed for Rivendell and Erebor and he has left to scout Ithilien."

Despite there having been so sign of Josephine, parties had been sent out to check again. Halbarad had taken it as a personal challenge, as if he could have done anything against the will of the Valar. That, Aragorn could only guess was the cause. Who else than Eru and those beneath him could harness such power?

Never before had he thought of them as his enemy, but they were also an enemy he couldn't fight. He could not bend their will anymore than Halbarad could have saved her from their actions. Furthermore, for all his anger towards them, their bringing her to Middle-Earth had saved them all…He had to believe that was what they had stolen her away for now.

"My Lord?" Ciril repeated when he didn't answer.

"Thank you, Ciril." He said quietly. "You may retire for the day. I fear there are few duties for you in her absence, so please, do as you will."

She bowed and passed him a somber look. "As you wish."

Silence fell over the room as she slipped out and Aragorn turned his gaze back to the fire. He would've been out in the wilds himself if he was able. He would have walked her path from Hobbiton to the Lonely mountain for any sign of when she'd passed there before. Any tell of her presence even though he knew there was none to find.

But he dared not go far from the city. If she returned she would not search for him in the wilds, but would make for Minas Tirith. He would not risk her coming home to find him gone.

Having been sworn to secrecy by her own command, Legolas and Gandalf offered very little in the way of specifics about her journey. They seemed to think it best to wait until the anniversary of the Battle of the Five Armies had passed before divulging all that had happened. Perhaps that too she had asked of them, but Aragorn yearned for everything. Please, Gandalf, tell him of what she had done on that day, while he sat there by the fire wondering after her. Legolas, what dangers would she face within Mirkwood, within that mountain where the dragon had once dwelt?

They had given him little, seeming to still fear their words could cause dangers to unfold only she had knowledge of. There was a chance still, though slim, that this was not her journey with Thorin's Company. That she might return and they would all know a future she had yet to see. Or perhaps that had been only her fear, blanketing their knowledge until she could return and grant them their voices again. Or…perhaps she had merely wished to save him from knowing the perils she faced, as if imagining them wasn't more difficult to bear.

But if Gandalf would not tell him, then he would beg his tale from Gimli. His father had journeyed with her, surely he himself knew the tale?

But his dour expression as he stood next to Aragorn's fire, pipe in hand, promised him little.

"I know the story of the mountain, Aragorn. It was told by many tongues but none spoke of her. It would seem her order of secrecy was well maintained by the Company these eighty years."

"Then tell me the tale you know." Aragorn pressed. "For she still walked that path though they do not speak of it."

Gimli nodded and sat himself on the nearest stool. "I will do what I can."

Another day, another camp, another bowl of stew. Josephine carried on spitefully as they passed towards the Lone Lands. Her mood was lower than usual and she was beginning to get the impression the dwarves weren't speaking in quiet tones just because they were tired.

"Alright!" Bofur said finally, setting his empty bowl on the ground. "That's enough. When this is all over, I'll not have ye goin' back to y'er husband spinnin tales of how we dwarves bored ye t' tears. Fili, Kili, give us some music, eh lads?"

Josephine watched as they produced two fiddles, a drum made an appearance, some flutes and clarinets, and Thorin even came to have a harp in his hand. Bofur held his hand out to her and wiggled his fingers with a grin. "Maybe another night." She offered wearily.

That was the wrong answer and he grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to her feet, knocking her almost empty bowl into the dirt. The dwarves began to play their instruments and Bofur danced her around the fire in a fast jig, then gripped her by the waist and tossed her. She met Fili's hands which had put down their fiddle and he smiled as she got her footing again before twirling her around with no less speed than Bofur had. She was summarily passed along to Nori, Dori, and then Kili until she was leaning against his shoulder laughing, unable to go on.

"There we are, lads!" Bofur bellowed. "Told ye the lass could crack a smile if we gave her a reason to."

"I'll have you all know," She said breathlessly. "I've danced on quite a few tables in my time." The rush of the dance had her grinning and she felt the lightest she'd been since arriving. Maybe the Company wouldn't be as ostracizing as she'd originally thought. Well, at least not to her, but Bilbo's acceptance would also come with time.

"We'll hold you to that at our victory feast once we take the mountain." Fili said with a wink.

Gloin tossed Kili his fiddle. "Best catch your breath, lass, the night's still young and we're not done cheerin' ye up yet."

By the time their festivities were over she'd danced through more than half the Company, missing only some of it's older members and Thorin himself who didn't leave his harp. Singing eventually joined the tunes and Bilbo very much enjoyed her recitation of The Green Dragon while he joined her in mimicking Merry and Pippin's dance in Edoras. Even Gandalf laughed and tapped his foot while he sat beside Thorin with his pipe.

It brought back the merriment of Bilbo's house and cleaning up after dinner, but thankfully it didn't fade as quickly. When they laid down on their bedrolls, Josephine's heart was light. She could see the shadows along the edges but she'd let her mind take respite while it stayed away. As much as she wanted to sink into the warm darkness of the cloud around her heart, she knew that would only lead to more troubles along the journey. She had to stay sharp and awake and strong. Aragorn needed her to come home to him.

Once they came to the deeper parts of the Lone Lands, the music was stopped. Even in the earlier times the area was dangerous with orcs. Most of the dwarves had fallen asleep but she was still up along with Fili, Kili, and Bilbo who was sneaking a snack to his pony, Myrtle. It was the first time she'd seen something familiar from the movies or books since they left the Shire, so the shriek in the distance wasn't a surprise and she didn't jump like Bilbo did.

"What was that?" He asked, eyes flicking around the camp and the land beyond the cliff they were camped along.

"Orcs." Kili said darkly.

"Orcs?" Bilbo said a bit louder, waking Thorin who was reaching for his sword before realizing it was just the two, teasing Bilbo.

"Throat-cutters. There'll be dozens of them out there." Fili added.

Kili continued. "The Lone Lands are crawling with them. They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood."

Josephine walked over and grabbed Kili's arm. "Not the time, or the place."

"You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?" Thorin said sternly, pinning them with a look that quickly humbled them.

"We didn't mean anything by it." Kili mumbled.

"No, you didn't. You know nothing of the world." He grumbled, walking away to the other edge of camp to stare off to the horizon.

"Don't mind him, laddie." Balin told Kili gently, launching into the tale of Thorin's first encounter with Azog.

Azog, the one she was worried about most. If she was going to save the line of Durin, she had to do something about Azog. But this wasn't like saving Boromir, or being in the right place to be able to save Haldir. Ravenhill was a different sort of beast, and she had three lives to save all at the same time.

Josephine followed Thorin and joined him at the edge.

"I wager you've seen your fair share of orcs. Those who sit calmly while they cry out in the distance have either no grasp on their danger, or have seen too much of it." Thorin said gravely. "And I do not take you as ignorant."

She could still hear their cries echoing through the half of Moria, feel the pounding of their footsteps in her chest as she stood at Helm's Deep. The chanting as they approached the walls of Minas Tirith and the slow creep of them as they were surrounded on Morannon were stamped on her memory forever.. She knew enough. "I've seen them in overwhelming odds. After that a small party in the Lone Lands seems refreshingly manageable."

"I hope one day our futures will meet again and you can tell me such tales." He glanced around at their camp and then back to the horizon. "In the safety of Erebor where worries are banished by the warmth of the hearth."

She already planned on leaving detailed, written instruction with Elrond in Rivendell to ensure things went as they were supposed to later. If she did manage to save the line of Durin, the past her couldn't know about it, if for no other reason than maintaining the future Josephine knew to be true. At some point she'd need to impress that upon everyone in the Company, but she was waiting until Rivendell to do it. Where the safety of the hidden valley would keep away prying ears.

"Thorin, when this is over, if I get sent home." She paused, the 'if' weighing heavily. "I'll tell you everything."

Behind them Balin continued his tale and Bilbo finally interrupted with a question. "And the Pale Orc? What happened to him?"

Thorin turned and walked back towards the fire. "He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago."

Gandalf's eyes landed on her and she turned to him, realizing his brows were drawn together worriedly, just like hers. The pale orc wasn't dead, and they both knew it.