A/n: warning: there is a brief scene of images of slavery. I tried to keep it as tame as I could. Still, please do not read if anything is triggering for you. I hope you all enjoy.

Angry muttering came from the dwarves after the elf's comment. A scraping of chairs followed as all the dwarves went to stand with their leader and the small child sized man. Avorniel could see that they were not pleased at being separated from their leader.

"Come gentlemen, I shall lead you to a nice place for your evening meal," she said, leading the group from the hall.

"What about the meat?" growled a bald dwarf. She smiled at him.

"There shall be all the meat you can stomach, now come, come, come along." The dwarves all followed the two women, Thorin, and the mysterious child sized man.

Despite their clear mistrust of her, they willingly followed her to a nice garden with a waterfall beside it. Male elves came out with a beautiful wood table, chairs, and candles for decoration. Avorniel grinned, giving them a mystivious wink, which they returned with laughter. More elves came out with flowers.

"I have informed the staff about the error in the kitchens," said a tall elf with brown hair. "I know not why the mistake was made, but it is being rectified. The head chef is very displeased." Avorniel knew all too well about the head chef's temper. He kept a firm hand in his domain, and did not tolerate pranks or troublemaking. Woe betide any elf who burned a single strip of bacon.

"No doubt he is displeased. I wish to see the fun," she said with a laugh.

"Worry not," said the elf, "You shall have all the entertainment you desire on the morrow. He shall conduct a staff meeting ere the preparations of the morning meal begins."

"I am looking forward to seeing the fireworks," said Avorniel with a grin. She was rather fond of the head chef who always snuck her little treats here and there.

"I Thank you for informing him," said Avorniel.

"You are welcome," said the elf. "I wonder if the Lord himself ordered the kitchens to serve the meat, but it does not seem like him. May haps one of the twins."

"May haps," said Avorniel. The twin sons of Lord Elrond for loyal to their Father, and were not fond of dwarves, though they hid it with their skills as diplomats. Perhaps one of them said something insulting that made them displeased and they got their revenge. The head chef really would be displeased. He did not abide by petty revenge pranks, especially when his precious food was involved. The male turned to the dwarves.

"He wishes to meet with the one who is most knowledgeable about food on the morrow so he can best serve your needs." A rather fat looking dwarf with ginger hair looked absolutely delighted at the prospect.

"I shall meet with him," he said. The males made way for a trio of ladies, carrying platters of meat and veggies, along with a delicious looking potato soup with soft bread dripping with butter.

Avorniel laughed as the dwarves gave a mighty cheer and began to dig in. Thorin and the small child sized creature helped Megan sit down. The small creature piled her plate high with sausages, ham, green beans, corn, and a dinner roll dripping in butter. Thorin served her a salad and a bowl of soup.

Avorniel smiled as the dwarves began to eat, chattering loudly. They ignored her and the other elves completely, choosing to eat every scrap of food there was.

She stood with the others, waiting to serve more food and drink. Dessert was a beautiful fruit pastry shaped like a boat. Icing was drawn, looking like small fish, with leaves made from sugar on top.

The small man smiled at the site of the treat, and carved out a generous slice for himself and Megan. Thorin took a smaller amount for himself as he drank a third glass of red wine.

Some of the dwarves were muttering about overly fancy elvish decoration, but they ate the dessert in spite their complaints about the decoration.

Once the meal was ended, Avorniel lead them to their beds. She could see that they needed rest more than the evening's entertainment in the hall of fire. She smiled to herself as she observed the dwarves. They were a clannish people, fiercely protective of their leader and one another. She chose rooms that were close together in a wing near the kitchens. They either grunted or gave her grudging nods as they were lead to their rooms. Some, like the black and blond brothers stayed in a room together, while others spread out in differing rooms.

"Is there anything at all that you desire?" she asked the group. Some asked for water, some for more blankets, some for fluffier pillows, while the dwarf with the axe in his head, along with the dwarf with the hat requested a working bench to work on their wood work.

She grabbed some of the servants, barking orders in rapid Cinderen, while she personally grabbed a work bench, and all the carving tools she could think of.

Sense the dwarves clearly didn't want to be near the elves, she wished to make them as comfortable as possible, so that contact could be lessened.

"There are training grounds if you wish to train, I can find other accommodations if you wish to train away from prying eyes," she said as she was about to lead the final three to their rest.

"Elf," growled the bald-headed dwarf. "Why are you doing all of this for us eh?" He glowered at her as he spoke, mistrust in his dark eyes.

"It is my duty to serve any guest that comes into this house," she replied. " It normally falls to the Lady Arwin, Lord Elrond's daughter to see to the running of this house, but she is in Lorian, so it falls to me, per her request. It matters not if you are dwarf or any other race, I shall give everyone the best service I am able regardless of race, even to those whom do not share a great love for my people. I am Avorniel if you need anything."

"I believe we would prefer the private training grounds," said the eldest of the group, a fine-looking dwarf with a long white beard and equally white hair. She rather admired his scarlet hood.

"It shall be arranged on the morrow," Avorniel replied.

"Is there a library?" one of the younger dwarves asked. She smiled to see a journal in his gloved hand. A scribe, she thought.

"Indeed, there is. Our record keeper Erestor shall be glad to assist you with whatever research you require. If he does not, let me know, and I shall remind him of the rules of this house."

"May I cook in the kitchens?" asked the fattest dwarf in a hesitant voice, casting her a hesitant and mistrustful glance.

"You my speak with the head chef on the matter during your meeting. There is a smaller private kitchen that I shall show you on the morrow Master dwarf, it all depends on your meeting," said Avorniel.

Once she was certain that there was no more requests, she lead Thorin, Megan, and the small man to a large room with a king-sized bed.

"Here are your chambers," she said to them. "I hope that this shall be a comfortable chamber for your needs." She bent down until she was eye level with the small creature. "Is there anything special I may get for you little Master?"

"May I have s step stool for the bed?" he squeaked, bowing deeply to Thorin's annoyance. "I am Bilbo Baggins at your service and your families my Lady. I am a hobbit of the Shire." Hobbit. She rather liked that name.

"Please, I wish to be called Avorniel, I do not like titles. I also wish to hear more about your Shire, I am not able to travel as I wish to." Bilbo looked absolutely delighted.

"Very well Avorniel, I shall be glad to tell you of my home," said Bilbo Baggins, a look of longing appearing on his face. " These dwarves are not interested in stories of my home, anyways, if you do not mind, my wife and I like to drink tea before we adjourn for bed, and I like to read to her." A soft smile appeared on her face.

"I shall have that done. Such a sweet rateen, it reminds me of my parents. They enjoy a song and a glass of wine ere they retire for the evening."

"Get on with it," Thorin snarled, eyes flashing. "I care not to hear of your family history."

"That is no way to speak to a lady," Bilbo spluttered, glaring at Thorin.

"She is an elf," growled Thorin. "I care not how nice she appears."

"So, what," barked Bilbo, anger in his tone. "I know very well that your peoples have a history, but I shall not have your hatred spewed at a Lady whom has done naught but make you as comfortable as she is able. You may hate elves, but I shall never share in your sickness."

"DO you dare!" Thorin roared.

"I do dare!" Bilbo bellowed back. "I may be a sheltered hobbit whom has not seen much of the world, but I know that hatred can poison anything, just as surely as a little poison here and there can rot away a good supply of water and food. I am truly sorry for whatever the elves have caused your people in the past, but I shall not drink from your poisoned cup."

"Drink your precious tea master hobbit," snarled Thorin, sitting in one of the chairs. "You know nothing of what you speak."

"I may not, but there is a woman in this chamber who does. Why not ask her about what she goes through all because of the color of her skin. You shall not be comforted by what you find in the mirror."

"That is altogether different, I would never hate someone because of a mere skin color," Thorin said, voice trembling with anger.

"No, it is not. It may not be the color of the skin you hate, but the form that the person takes that you abhor. I saw it tonight, you would not stop giving evil glances at the servers at supper." Thorin remained obstinately silent, glaring at Bilbo.

Avorniel silently slipped from the chamber to grab the tea and a book, having no desire to hear anything further. It was none of her concern why the dwarf hated elves so much, her job was to keep him comfortable during his stay.

She soon returned with the tea and book to find Thorin standing, glaring at the fireplace with his arms crossed. If he were to look at me in such a manner, I would run away, she thought.

"Here are you book and tea Bilbo, I have a selection so you can choose what you wish for."

"Thank you Avorniel," said Megan.

"You are welcome Megan," said Avorniel, bowing and exiting the camber.

She walked down the halls, ready for her warm bed. As an elf, she did not need as much sleep as mortals, but she wished to slip into dreams nonetheless. It had been a long day. She would miss dancing and singing with the other elves, but rest would do her some good.

She sighed in growing annoyance as her brother walked behind her. Lindir was one of Rivendell's best composers of music, but his beautiful music could not mask his less than pleasant attitude towards others.

"What do you desire to speak to me about?" she asked, voice painfully polite.

"What right did you have disrespecting our Lord this eve?" he asked. She gritted her teeth against the sharp note of criticism that he reserved just for her.

"What oh wise brother of mine do you deem I should have done?" she asked through gritted teeth. "Do you wish I had dragged Lord Thorin back to his seat? He had the right to defend his companion. It is my job to make certain our guests are comfortable, and that is what I did. They did not wish to dine in the great hall, so I obeyed their wishes."

"You would obey the wishes of a tart whom lays with two husbands instead of one husband. You would help one whom disobeys the will of Eru?" Avorniel's eyes flashed as her voice lowered to a dangerous hiss.

"Do you dare address a woman in such a vulgar manner? I know very well that our Ada and Mother would be ashamed of your words. You speak on what you know not brother, what arrogance do you possess to deem you to believe that you alone know what Eru's plans are or are not? She clearly loves that dwarf and hobbit, and they love her in return. What are guests do in their private lives is no concern of ours, as long as they do no harm to others. How dare you call her that name! That is not how elen treat females, I do hope you merely spoke them out of your misguided anger."

"What would a dwarf see in a human?" Lindir asked, ignoring his sister's rising wrath. "I thought they did not care for humans. They are an insular culture, not daring to share their secrets with those they deem unworthy of having them."

"That is not my concern, nor should it be yours brother, that is their culture and they have the right to follow any traditions they have. , Now, I am retiring for the evening, less our guests need anything. I bid you go back to your tower and to your music and leave me be."

Once she was certain that Mithrandir was comfortable in his chambers, she left for her own bed, falling asleep after a hug from her parents.

She woke the next morning in their little cottage before the sun, got dressed, and made herself a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon.

Plants of all sorts hung in the windows of the small kitchen. She whistled a tune, placing her favorite teapot on the table. As much as she loved working in the grand house, she loved her homey cottage even more. While the tea brewed, she relit the fire in their living room, and watered the plants before throwing open the door to let in the fresh air. The living room window had a perfect view of the valley with its waterfalls and trees.

She could make out her little garden from the kitchen window. Her parents tended it during her long days at the main house.

The walls were painted with a forest scene and a book shelf stood beside the fireplace with nicnack she had made herself, a small array of farm animals.

Once breakfast was completed, she washed up her dishes and walked the ten-minute walk to the main house.

Upon entering the house, she made her way to the dwarven quarters to take their chef to his meeting. They exchanged polite greetings before walking the short walk to the kitchens.

She couldn't help her grin upon hearing the head chef's voice all the way down the corridor.

"Reminds me of my wife," said her companion.

"Is she temperamental?" Avorniel asked.

'She can be when pushed into a corner. I am called Bombur." Avorniel smiled.

"That is a nice name. Bombur nodded, giving her a small smile.

"I care not what Lord Elrond's twins told you, your job was to serve the regular meal. Dwarves do not like vegetables, and I am not here to partake in their revenge pranks, all because of words the dwarves have said. Am I understood?"

"Yes chef," was heard as they entered the huge kitchens. Bombur's eyes widened in delight at the work space.

"Good morning chef," said Avorniel, "This is the head chef of the dwarves here to speak with you." The anger disappeared from the chef's face to be replaced by a genuine smile.

"Welcome to my kitchens master dwarf," he said, "I wish to apologize personally for the error at yesterday's meal, it shall not happen again, that is my promise. Now, can you tell me what dwarves enjoy for their meals?" Some of the elves laughed at the dreamy look the dwarf was giving a huge ham on one of the cutting boards.

"We eat meat a majority of the time, such as deer, mutton, and lots of pork, we love pork. My cousin Bifur is the only one in the party whom eats vegetables full time," said Bombur. "We are also fond of beer and ales."

"Very well, that is what we shall serve for you." Avorniel nodded.

"If that is settled, then I shall hurry on to my other duties," she said.

'Not without an oat cake you shall not," said the chef, giving her a large oat cake filled with dried fruits and dripping in honey. It was wrapped tightly in leaves to keep it hot.

"Thank you, chef," she said.

"Indeed, you need a treat every once in a while, owing to how busy you are during the day, even elves need to keep up their strength. Now, be off else I burn you lunch."

"You wouldn't dare," she spluttered in feigned outrage. The chef and Bombur both laughed as she left, she could hear them talking about recipes and cooking methods.

Once her duties of the afternoon were completed, showing the scribe the library, the eldest dwarves the private training grounds, and making sure they had comfortable bedding, she went to have an afternoon nap and a nibble of her oat cake.

Avorniel was pleased to note that the evening meal went better than the previous night. The dwarves were quite pleased at the change in the food on the table.

They were a lot more boisterous, telling jokes and teasing one another as they ate their fill of the various meat dishes. The axe headed dwarf was happily munching on a huge green salad with plenty of tomato.

They weren't having the music however, complaining of its somber funeral like tone. Avorniel laughed as the dwarf with the hat hopped onto the table and began to sing a lengthy song about the man in the moon drinking ale at an inn. She clapped along, tapping her feet and laughing with the other dwarves, ignoring some of the more lordly elves and their horrified expressions.

She rolled her eyes. This is why I prefer the woody elves that dwell nearby, and Glorfendal, who at least enjoyed himself, unlike more of the eluth elves such ad Elrond, Lindir, and Erestor.

Glorfendal grinned, humming along to the funny tune.

He caught a large piece of sausage that the hatted dwarf threw at him, and ate it, ignoring Lindir's scandalized look.

"We must hear that one again," said Glorfendal as he applauded. He was one of the only ones who did. Avorniel scoffed.

"Who wrote the words?" Glorfendal asked.

"I did," said a blushing Bilbo.

"Well Master Bilbo, you did a fine job," said Glorfendal. Mithrandir smiled as well, taking a bite of apple tart.

"Our hobbit has many fine qualities, which the dwarves happily ignore," said the wizard, scowling at the dwarves.

"If he would stop complaining about the lack of meals," grunted the redhead with the locket.

"That is part of their culture," said Megan, "They were built to eat more meals than us, that is how they stay healthy."

"He shall just have to learn to adjust then," said the redhead with nods of agreement from other dwarves. Megan glared at them.

"It matters not Megan," said Bilbo sadly, "I shall just have to try harder, they already deem me weak and unreliable."

'It does matter," said Megan, but she dropped it for the time being. The hobbit grew sad after that, concentrating on his meal. Avorniel made a note to speak to the head chef about the hobbit's meals.

Once supper was over, Megan went for a walk with Bilbo.

Thorin was in a bad mood, and refused to walk through an elven valley, so they went without him.

Bilbo described the various waterfalls and trees that ran through the valley. Elves were singing and dancing near the river, having a merry time.

Bilbo and Megan stopped at a waterfall and spread out a blanket. They sat down, enjoying the music of the waters as they roared past.

'I hope you aren't mad at Thorin and I," said Bilbo, "We only said we were your husbands in order to protect you from unwanted attention."

"I'm not mad," said Megan, "I called myself your wife."

"I am relieved to hear that," said Bilbo. Megan took Bilbo's hand with a smile.

"I think it is sweet that you would go to so much trouble to protect a nobody like me, I'm just a peasant," she said.

"Now wait a second," said Bilbo, "You are not a nobody, and I care not if you are poor, that matters not to Thorin and I." Megan was about to speak, but Bilbo stopped her.

"I don't understand. You are quite willing to stand up for others, but when folks are mean to you, you keep quiet and do not stick up for yourself. I will not let anybody treat the woman I love in such a manner, including you."

"You love me?" Megan asked, feeling quite stunned.

"I do," said Bilbo.

"You wouldn't want to be with someone like me," said Megan. She grimaced at the painful memory that was coming back to the surface.

"Why do you say such a thing?" Bilbo asked.

"I hurt a man who I thought that I loved," she said. "I went behind his back and had an affair with another instead of telling him that I didn't love him anymore." Bilbo remained silent, listening to what she had to say.

"At the time, I thought he would want nothing to do with me if I told him the truth. Due to my immaturity, I didn't realize that I did more damage by cheating and lying to him, than if I had just told the truth in the first place." Megan sighed, remembering Daniel's final words to her.

"He didn't ever want to have anything to do with me after that. I wanted to try and make amends. He agreed to speak with me, but the school shooting happened, and I never saw him again. I didn't get to tell him how sorry I really was. Not having someone's forgiveness is a terrible thing."

"Will you ever do such a thing again?" Bilbo asked.

"No, never," said Megan.

"Then I shall leave it where it belongs, in the past. You cannot punish yourself for a mistake that you made. You need to learn how to forgive yourself so you can move past it. I think that if he knew the kind of person you are, Daniel would forgive you as well. It would take time, but I believe he would have.""

"Do you really mean that?" Megan asked.

"Yes, I do. You cannot let the past dictate your future relationships Megan, I care not about what you did in the past. All I care about is now, and the person that I know. I love you, and want to be with you." When she hesitated, he continued.

"Please give it a chance, you deserve to be loved, don't let the past dictate your future."

"The truth is, I want to be with you too Bilbo," said Megan, "I'm not sure what it is yet, but I do feel attracted to you, but I do want to find out."

"That is just fine with me, I understand it shall take time for you to know for sure," said Bilbo. "May I at least kiss you?" he asked.

"My, you are a gentleman," said Megan with a laugh. "Of course, you can." With that, Bilbo leaned in.

Megan's eyes closed, her heart thudding in her chest. He tasted of pipe weed and apple tarts, but more than that, it felt like being home after a long and trying day. It wasn't like fireworks or any stupid first kiss thing that she had read in romance literature, it was simply comfort, and a feeling of finding home at last.

Bilbo wasn't some Casanova, he didn't need to serenade her, Megan was amused by the thought of it. Bilbo was his usual shy, nervous and fussy self.

"Oh dear," said Bilbo after they broke apart. "I probably wasn't very good." He kept on stammering and muttering to himself about it until Megan stopped him.

"Bilbo, it was perfect," she said. "Best kiss I've ever had."

"Are you sure? It wasn't really planned, my Mother told me that women liked these things planned with grand jesters and all that nonsense. Oh dear, oh dear me."

"Bilbo, it was perfect. Your Mother was clearly talking about herself. Every woman is different when it comes to romance, some do like romantic gestures, but I never had. In fact, I am really uncomfortable with overly romantic stuff, it is like the man is trying to hard or something. If everything in romance was planned, it would lose the fun out of it, just be yourself and I will be quite happy."

"Oh, good, that is a relief, I don't go for such nonsense myself, I don't know much about romance anyways. To be honest, it was my first kiss." Not surprising, Megan thought to herself. This made his behavior more endearing.

"Didn't you have any hobbit lovers when you were younger?" she asked him.

"Me, hobbit lasses? Nonsense, no. I wasn't interested in romance back then to be honest, I found most lasses to be boring, prissy, and lacking in an adventurous spirit. As you know, hobbits do not go on adventures, except for the Tooks of course. It odd for me to be thusly unmarried at my middle age."

"People should mind their own damn business," said Megan. She absolutely loathed people who insisted on sticking their noses into other people's lives. Hobbits needed to go on adventures, sense their lives were so boring that they needed to gossip and plan out others' lives.

"I do quite agree," said Bilbo.

After a while, Bilbo and Megan decided to go for a walk. The sun was just setting, and it was looking like a beautiful night which Bilbo described to Megan, a beautiful sunset of oranges and reds setting in a sky full of fluffy clouds.

Elves were beginning to sing and dance around them as they walked. They laughed as Bilbo and Megan went to join them.

"Well met merry friends," said a male from the center. "Come and dance with us. The night is young, and there is much fun to be had under the stars."

"Of course, we will," said Bilbo, "come sweetheart, let us dance." They danced with the elves for many hours that night. They learned many elvish dances, and taught them some dances of their own cultures.

They loved the springl ring that Bilbo taught them, and the various dances of the African culture. She wouldn't dare show them how to twerk.

Once the dancing was over, the singing and storytelling began. Megan told the elves about drum circles, and taught them some simple African drumming songs.

Bilbo tried his hand at it, but couldn't get a handle on the complex rhythms.

"I shall leave the drumming to you Megan," he said.

"Will you grace us with a song?" an elf asked her.

"All right," said Megan. "The song I am going to sing comes from when my people were enslaved by white people. It was a coded song on how a slave could escape to the underground railroad, which was a connection of safe houses that slaves could go to. It is called follow the drinking goard." With that, she began to sing.

"Follow the drinkin' gourd
Follow the drinkin' gourd
For the old man is comin' just to carry you to freedom
Follow the drinkin' gourd

When the sun comes back, and the first quail calls
Follow the drinkin' gourd
For the old man is waiting just to carry you to freedom
Follow the drinkin' gourd

Follow the drinkin' gourd
Follow the drinkin' gourd
For the old man is waiting to carry you to freedom
Follow the drinkin' gourd

Well the river bank makes a mighty good road
Dead trees will show you the way
Left foot, peg foot, travelin' on
Follow the drinkin' gourd

Follow the drinkin' gourd
Follow the drinkin' gourd
For the old man is waiting to carry you to freedom
Follow the drinkin' gourd

Well the river ends, between two hills
Follow the drinkin' gourd
There's another river on the other side
Follow the drinkin' gourd

Follow the drinkin' gourd
Follow the drinkin' gourd
For the old man is waiting to carry you to freedom
Follow the drinkin' gourd

Well, where the great big river meets the little river
Follow the drinkin' gourd
The old man is waiting to carry you to freedom
Follow the drinkin' gourd

Follow the drinkin' gourd
Follow the drinkin' gourd
For the old man is waiting to carry you to freedom
Follow the drinkin' gourd

For the old man is waiting just to carry you to freedom
If you follow the drinkin' gourd."

The elves were silent after the song ended.

"That song contained instructions on how to escape," a lady said. "That is very clever."

"Yes," said Megan. "The enslaved were not allowed to learn how to read or write, so they used song to hide their messages. The enslavers thought they were just singing. Not all the enslaved who tried to run away were successful. Some were brought back and either sold or beaten."

"That is horrid," said the woman. "How long were your ancestors enslaved?"

"For 200 years," said Megan.

"That is a long time for mortals," said a male elf.

"It was," said Megan. "My country broke into civil war over the issue."

"I am truly sorry that your people went through such a horrible trial," said the woman.

"So am I," said Megan. "My people are still going through trials," she added.

Megan and Bilbo began to grow tired after that, and decided to go to their bed after a final dance and song.

Megan and Bilbo left the elves, the light around their arms growing ever brighter. The elves noticed and asked about it.

"It seems you and the leader of the dwarves have been touched by the Valor," said a male elf. "Though, I know not what purpose it may be."

"We do not know ourselves," said Bilbo. "May haps Master Elrond shall have an idea."

"May haps," said the male. "I would council you to speak with him soon."

"We shall do so," said Bilbo, leading Megan towards the main house.

They arrived to their chambers to find Thorin sitting in a chair by the fire, smoking a pipe.

"Dancing with elves I see," he grunted in greeting.

"Good evening to you too," said Megan in a sad tone. Sighing, she entered their bathing room and changed into a comfortable night dress.

She didn't like Thorin's sudden coolness towards her and Bilbo. Shaking her head at it all, she settled down in the large bed and fell asleep. She was far too tired to deal with Thorin's low spirits at the moment.

Bilbo and Thorin soon joined her in slumber, sleeping on either side of her.

Thorin stood in a beautiful field of flowers that stretched for miles upon miles. Blue sky stretched ahead, sun shining on the field. Master Baggins would love a garden such as this, he thought.

Sighing, he began to walk, wondering where the field would lead to.

"Hello Thorin." The voice that spoke belonged to a tall black man with a hair due similar to Miss Megan's. A strange cloth was tied about his forehead.

"Who are you?" Thorin growled, looking for a weapon that was not there.

"My name is James, younger bruthah of Megan. Come and sit down." Thorin blinked at the table and chairs that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"What do you want from me human?" Thorin snarled, furious that he didn't have a weapon. Jame's voice grew stern.

"Don't use that fucking tone wit me."

"Don't make demands of me human," snarled Thorin, leaping to his feet.

"Sit yo ass down!" James yelled. "My name is James, no human. I was sent to teach yo ass a lesson. Though I doubt yo stubborn ass will learn it." He slammed a small mirror down on the table.

"Look into the fuckin mirror," he hissed. In spite of his still pounding furry, Thorin looked.

Thorin was horrified at what he saw. Black people stuffed into dark ships that looked and smelled of death, slave auctions where families were separated, and many horrors that the enslaved endured.

Tears appeared in Thorin's eyes at little children eating from boxes like animals.

He could no longer watch when an enslaver got out a whip.

"Beware of your pride Thorin," said James when Thorin looked away from the mirror. "Your hatred shall destroy all that you love. It is already beginning."

"What do you speak of," Thorin asked.

"The way you are treatin my sistah, showing her hatred all because she is becoming friendly to those who you are at odds with."

"The elves—"

"I am very aware what the fighting is, and I don't give a fuck. What I do care about is how your hatred is poisoning your relationships. Not with your other dwarves, but with Megan and Bilbo. I wanted to show you what real hatred can do to a person. Be careful before you loose all that you hold dear. This is not a fucking dragon, these are people and what can happen when utter hatred rules someone's heart." There was no warmth in his voice. A chill went through Thorin at the sound of it.

Another image was shown to him, a young-looking man wearing something fancy, and holding an important looking book. Thorin watched as he and others were sprayed with something that made them cough and their noses burn. Brutal looking men released dogs and strange devices that shot water into the crowd, even at children.

The scene changed to the same man, looking years older. He stood on the balcony of his sleeping quarters. Thorin opened his mouth to call out, but the bang of one of those cursed guns interrupted him.

He gasped, placing a hand over his mouth.

"That was Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, a famous leader who stood up and fought for my people. He believed in non-violent protest," said James.

"Remember and beware Thorin Oakensheild."

Thorin woke with a gasp, the sounds of the school shooting that Megan endured coming back to his mind. He sat up, gasping and shaking like a leaf.