Thorin exited the chamber, leaving Bilbo and Megan to their happy dreams. He walked down the maze of corridors, trying to forget the ominous dream, though he was not successful.

According to the dream, his hatred of elves would destroy everything, but what did this human know? The image of Thranduil, standing there, watching Thorin pleading with him for help. Thorin would never forget that icy look in his eyes. No help had been promised in that expression, and no help came from him or his people ever since.

If whomever sent him that dream expected him to magickly forgive Thranduil, whom still didn't care for the plight of his people, then the dream sender would be sadly disappointed.

It was utterly haunting and heartbreaking what he had witnessed in that mirror, but that had nothing to do with elves and dwarves. The sad look on Megan's face entered his mind, and how he coldly ignored it. He shook it off.

She was becoming friends with his enemies, he had a right to be irritated if he wished. He did not wish to be in this accursed valley. Lord Elrond hadn't bothered to help them yet, and the longer they stayed, the longer he would be without his home. The longer he was without his home, would be more time the dragon sat on his treasure and golden harps.

If the oh so mighty elf lord would not help soon, the dwarves would simply have to leave. He could endure Gandalf's legendary wrath, he had faced a dragon, which was eminently worse.

Deciding he had walked down these accursed corridors long enough, he turned back towards where he hoped his chamber was located.

He began walking back where he thought he had come from, but soon realized he was lost. Cursing, he stopped, trying to remember where he had come from. He pondered and thought for about five minutes before realizing it was completely hopeless. This reminded him all too well of trying and failing to find Bag End. Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur had come upon him, trying to find the way, but together, they had managed with some arguing and cursing to find the way. That was when he had fallen with Bombur on top on him. He scowled at the memory, remembering the almost painful weight of the fat dwarf along with his brother and cousin.

He sighed in relief when he spotted the kitchens. Nodding to himself, he turned right and walked down the corridor to the chamber. He entered, closing the door behind him. He stood in the outer chamber for a moment, watching the fire before entering the bed chamber. The stern visage softened for a minute when he saw Megan's sleeping face. It looked like she was sleeping peacefully, with no bad dreams to disturb her. Still, he couldn't quash the anger that rose inside him at the fact she was conversing with his enemies. He had a right to be mad. Ignoring the voice in his head that told him otherwise, he went back to bed, sleeping rather fitfully.

As a result, he was quite bad tempered when he woke next morning, snapping at Megan and Bilbo for the slightest thing.

"What the hell is up your ass?" Megan finally snarled, having had enough.

"You are conversing with my enemies," Thorin hissed.

"They are your enemies Thorin, not mine. Until they do treat me disrespectfully, that will not change. I don't have time or the energy to deal wit' someone else's prejudice from both fuckin sides, I have my own to deal wit. Now, if you ain't got nothin nice to say to me, then leave me the hell alone."

"Don't you dare speak to me in such a manner," Thorin said. "Do not speak on what you know naught."

"I don't know what the hell is up with elves and dwarves, but I do know a hell a lot about racism, so don't you go standin there, accusing me otherwise. I'm sorry about whatever shit the elves threw at you, but I am not going to let you take it out on me and make me utterly miserable. Now, I am going to have some breakfast." Shaking her head, she left the chamber. Bilbo glared at him.

"Now you listen here. I shall not have you upsetting her in such a manner. She did nothing to cause your wrath. If you deem, she is going to betray you to the elves, then you are very wrong. She is merely making friends."

"I do not have to answer to you Master Baggins." Bilbo's glare hardened.

"You do not have the right to control whom she can befriend. Now if you will excuse me, I shall leave you with your thoughts. I am just sad that you would throw away someone as special as she, all because you cannot see past your hatred of others. By the way, I would be saying the same thing to any elf who was standing in your place."

Thorin watched Bilbo leaving and left himself to find his fellow companions. He spent the rest of the day training with the dwarves, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of his head.

Both Megan and Bilbo were avoiding him as much as he was avoiding them and their elvish friends. Very well, let them befriend the elves. He cared not. Whenever he happened to run into Megan, she would give him a cool look before walking away. He could just make out the sadness in her eyes. He did his best to ignore Bilbo's anger before they parted ways.

"I hear that you are not speaking to our burglar and the lass," said Oin's gruff voice from behind him.

"They are friends with elves, which is something I cannot look past," growled Thorin.

"I am not fond of them either, but that doesn't mean I am going to let my feelings towards them to spill over onto Miss Megan and let it affect how I treat her. She is a kind lass. I would strongly reconsider if I were you. I thought the two of you were starting to become friends of a sort. It would be sad to throw away a friendship over your hatred. She knows nothing of why you hate elves. Think on it Thorin." Thorin merely scowled, arms across his chest. How could he explain that it was as if they cared not for his pain? He cared not whom they befriended, it was the fact that he feared his quest being outed by a careless slip of the tongue. The mission was no concern of elves. What did they know of dragons and losing one's home? What did they know of working one's hands to the bone, until collapsing from exhaustion and then getting thrown in jail by men whom thought you less than nothing?

That is what dwarves were to the rest of the world, elves, the race of men, and may haps hobbits. They were less than nothing, the lowest thing you could think of, lower than the dirt on a man's boots.

Oin gave him a disappointed look before walking to gather more herbs.

"Remember and beware Thorin Oakensheild." Thorin grimaced at Jame's final words from his dreams. He did his best to ignore them as he continued to train and brood over his quest and misfortune of ending up in the place of his enemy.

Megan and Bilbo walked along a corridor late at night. It had been a fine day full of songs, storytelling, and simply exploring the place while sharing some kisses. Rivendell was a nice place, perfect for any activity a person could think of. Megan rather enjoyed it, but she rather wished The Shire and even Chicago.

Rivendell was too perfect, full of folk who did not know what it was to be mortal with all the things that came with it. They had songs and tales of such beauty that it made her feel inadequate. As Bilbo described to her, they were quite beautiful with flawless skin, hair, and a perfect figure.

Megan felt fat and ugly in comparison. She wondered what on earth Bilbo saw in her, an opinionated woman who was fat and short with PTSD. The sound of voices interrupted her thoughts. They were coming around the corner.

Bilbo and Megan froze in their spot as the voices came closer.

"I am certain that you can trust that I know what I am doing." It was Gandalf speaking, and he sounded quite exasperated.

"Of course I was going to tell you, I was waiting for this very chance in fact."

"Do you know what you are doing?" Elrond asked, "That dragon has sat in that mountain for over 60 years. What would happen if you waken that beast and your plan failed?"

"That throne is Thorin's birthright," said Gandalf, "What is it that you fear?" Gandalf was definably annoyed at this point.

"Have you forgotten?" Elrond asked through gritted teeth. "A strain of madness lies on that family. Both his Father and Grandfather fell to the same sickness. Can you sware that Thorin Oakensheild shall not also fall prey to the madness?" Megan gritted her teeth at Elrond's mental health shaming, the self-satisfied tone at magically diagnosing someone without having observed them, the utter arrogance to do such a thing without seeing the patient.

What did his judgmental ass know of Thorin or his home? Not a damn thing. Besides, the fuckers were having this conversation where anybody could hear and throw their judgmental bullshit at these dwarves.

It was then that Megan fully realized why Thorin had been ignoring her. This place was bringing out his trauma, and to his eyes, she was dismissing it by chillin with his enemies. She remembered angrily dismissing him, all because he was angry and irritated, she didn't want him to spoil her precious happiness, which seemed selfish on her part without even considering Thorin's feelings on the matter. I am doin the same thing that Bilbo did to me. Bilbo didn't consider my trauma back in Bree, and now I am doin the same fucking thing. I am such a shit head. Tears sprang to her eyes as disgust at herself filled her. She blinked them back. There would be time for crying later. Now there was elf ass to whop.

A firm hand seized her arm.

Without realizing she was doing so, she had stepped forward to confront the elf's comments.

"No, stay silent," Thorin hissed. Megan opened her mouth, but Thorin stopped her.

"Questioning Gandalf is one thing, but this is Lord Elrond, an elf of some importance. He would not be pleased if you spoke against him, he could kick us out in his wrath. Kings and Lords of this land do not like having their words questioned. Come, let us leave this place. It would do nothing to stir up trouble for us, the elf and wizard are doing plenty by staging their words in a less private place curse them." Megan could hear the fury in his tone as well as a bit of sadness.

"They have no right discussing my family, that is my private—" He trailed off as the voices passed their hiding spot. Once they were gone, he continued.

"That is my private affair, in which they had no right discussing without my leave to do so."

"Did you Father go mad?" Megan asked.

"No, not in the same way my Father did, not from gold lust, but from grief at loosing Thror. The elf was wrong in his statement, he should remain silent on what he knows naught, he was not there." Now I know the damn story, Megan said to herself. This dwarf doesn't even get a say in who discusses his family history and who hears it. Privacy of information didn't seem to matter to either Gandalf or Elrond.

"I am sorry," said Megan.

"For what if I may ask?" Thorin asked.

"I am sorry for bein so insensitive about your feelings about the elves, me spending so much time with them probably felt like I was sidin with them over you or somethin'. I am also sorry for overhearing that conversation. I was out of line in yelling at you, I didn't know or understand all the facts."

"It is forgiven," said Thorin, "I do not wish to control whom your friends are, dwarves do not control their women, I merely do not like elves, and deem that they shall only stab you in the back if you are in need of aid. I care not whom your friends are, but elves are good at manipulating you into thinking they are trustworthy, then you are in need, they betray you in the worst way. Lord Elrond care not about my privacy for instance, he spoke of it where any elf could hear. I am merely wishing you to take care in your dealings with them, keep an eye on them." Megan nodded.

She didn't completely agree with Thorin about all elves, Avorniel never pressured her about where she was going, but she supposed for Thorin, he had been so wounded that the thought of a good elf was not possible. She didn't believe in painting a race with a single brush. Not all white people were racist ass holes, many of them helped out in the civil rights movement, marching with blacks. Her Mom had plenty of stories of their helping hands. They were also instrumental in the Underground railroad.

She and Thorin would just have to agree to disagree about all elves, though she did agree with him about Elrond, he was a fucking ass hole.

"Please do not cry." Thorin's voice was oddly gentle. She felt his rough thumb wiping a tear away.

"You did not understand, but you do now."

Thorin, Bilbo, and Megan walked back to their chamber. They were all feeling quite tired after the evening's shitfest. They got ready for bed, and fell asleep rather quickly. Megan was glad that they had made up, everything felt right in the world, well, for now at least.

A soft glow appeared around their sleeping forms, energy filling the chamber. Megan mumbled something in her sleep, moving closer to Thorin. She cracked open one eye as Bilbo tightened his arm around her. She sighed softly, sleep reclaiming her once more.

It was another beautiful day. Bilbo and Megan had breakfast, and took a stroll while the dwarves trained. Megan smiled at her hobbit as they walked hand in hand, the elves wishing them good day as they passed.

Bilbo lead her to his favorite garden and lead her to a spot of grass where they could sit and enjoy the morning. A chill of pleasure went through her as Bilbo placed his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer to his side. He ran a hand through her massive poof of curls as he described the many flowers and their meanings in the garden. From tulips and violets, to roses and buttercups. She smiled, imagining them at her house watching a movie together.

He would be an excellent audio describer, she thought. Bilbo was very vivid in his descriptions of everything.

"I must say, you are as beautiful as any of these flowers," said Bilbo.

"Ah stop it, I ain't that pretty, especially compared to them female elves, I'm fat and ugly."

"You are far from ugly," said Bilbo, "There is naught wrong with being fat, as long as you keep healthy about it. Elf women are fare to look upon, but it as if one is staring at a painting. Lovely to look at once in a while, but tiring after a while. You my dear I could gaze at all day. You are not perfect in your beauty, but your imperfections make you just as pretty as any elf woman. I do not see elves whom have such beautiful hair as you, any hobbit lass that I know of would give anything to have hair as lovely as yours, it is a glorious main of curls that are fun to work with. I enjoy learning about how your people do your hair from the weaves and relaxers, to the braids and dreadlocks. I could write a book on what I have learned about black hair stylings. Elves couldn't dream of having hair like yours." Megan smiled at his compliments She didn't believe she was that pretty, but if he thought so, it was fine with her.

"I wish all people felt that way about black hair," said Megan, "There is so much shit we deal with, all because of our hair."

"It is pathetic that folks harass your people over your hair. I do not understand how you can lose your job, all over the culture of your people. That should not fit into it at all. I always thought that the work that you put into your job should decide on one's employment, not skin color or the hair that you have. Utter nonsense the whole thing."

"It is," said Megan, "My Mom could tell you many stories about her journey to accepting her natural hair. She could tell you all about how her Mom pulled a hot comb through her hair to make it straight. There is more I could tell you, but it would take days for me to get through it all."

"That sounds like it would be quite painful," said Bilbo.

"She told me that it is painful," said Megan.

"It is simply pathetic, I cannot understand it at all, it's idiotic, I mean it's hair for Yavana's sake." Bilbo sighed.

"Do you wish to get second breakfast with me? Or are you still full."

"I think I will pass for now," said Megan.

"As you wish, I shall go and enjoy my meal. Shall I see you later this evening?" Megan smiled.

"Yes, you will," she said. "For now, I will see what our dwarven companions are up to."

"Have a good time then. I shall eat a second mushroom omelet in your absence."

"You do that then," said Megan with a laugh. With a final kiss, the hobbit was gone.

Megan walked around, trying to locate the dwarves. The sounds of weapons and dwarven voices greeted her ears. She smiled as she made her way towards them.

"Lass," Bofur cheered. "Come and join us and have an ale."

"All right, I think that I will," said Megan. Bofur laughed and lead her to a chair. His laughter died down and he became more serious.

"Let us walk after we have a drink, there are some things that must be spoken of. It is nothing that you did, that I promise you, but it is about you." He patted her on the shoulder and poured her an ale. Megan simply nodded, dread entering her stomach.

What on earth could possibly be going on? She forced herself to drink her ale, trying to put Bofur's words into the back of her mind.

Once their ale had been drunk, Bofur took her to a more private area that was away from the training grounds.

"There has been some debate," Bofur began, "well, more like an argument. Well anyways, it was a debate or an argument about those mysterious marks on you, Thorin, and Master Baggins. There are those whom believe that you have caused these marks to appear, and the Valor is just an excuse from Gandalf to hide where they truly came from."

"What in the actual fuck!" Megan yelled in complete disbelief.

"Shh, keep your voice down. Bifur along with myself, Dwalin, Gloin, and Oin have been arguing against this ridiculous claim, why on earth would you want to mark yourself and all, but it has been unsuccessful at this time."

"Do Thorin and Bilbo know? Or are we all in the dark?" Megan asked. This shit would be bad for the company going forward. There needed to be peace between them if their quest was to be successful.

"Neither of them know," said Bofur. "Oin shall speak to them this evening. Until then, just stay close to them or us. The majority of them are not happy with you. Sadly, that includes Bombur." He sighed. "They also do not approve of both Bilbo and Thorin calling themselves your husbands. It is not approved of for one woman to have two husbands at the same time."

"It ain't in my culture either, but I don't care," said Megan.

"I am not saying it is right, but dwarves are quite traditional when it comes to these matters. What utter bull shit, Megan thought. All she wanted to do at this point was find her Mother and fuck the rest of the folks who didn't believe her.

"Do you have feelings for either of them?" Bofur asked.

"Bilbo and I are courting, I don't know what I feel for him yet, I can admit that I do feel attraction towards him. I still need to get to know Thorin better before I decide with him, but I do like him a great deal."

"It is about time with you and Master Bilbo," said Bofur. "As for Thorin, I know quite well that he has regard for you, I remember his concern for you on the road. Whatever happens, it shall not be easy for the others to except this arrangement."

"Life ain't easy," said Megan with a sad sigh. "I am sure as hell used to that."

"Worry not, you still have friends, me, Bifur, Oin and Gloin shall stand with you in whatever happens."

"I am surprised that Gloin believes me," said Megan. "He doesn't seem to trust easily."

"He does not trust easily," said Bofur. "The thing is, Gloin may have a gruff exterior, but he has a soft heart. He is especially soft hearted when it comes to romance. He and Oin also believe in portence and ravens, so the valor putting strange marks on someone isn't that farfetched for them. They are rather superstitious for dwarves. Gloin was quite proud of how you stood up for Thorin against Gandalf, not many care to stand up for us." Megan smiled.

"That is so sweet. I rather like romance myself. I will have to get to know him better."

"Aye, I have a feeling that you shall become fast friends. The thing with Gloin is, he is quite protective and fiercely defends anyone whom he cares about." She grew somber at this, Bofur's remark reminded her of James. He was the same as Gloin, always defending her from insult and bullies at school.

They had met in kindergarten at one of the play centers. She had wanted to play restaurant, but nobody else wished to join her, but James had. She had played the waitress, while he played the chef.

They sat beside one another all through out that first day, James helping her with finger painting during art, and making sure she found the best leaves during their nature study.

The first time James defended her was when a boy decided to pull on one of her curls just to see what happened according to him. She had let out a loud howl and burst into noisy sobs at the pain.

"Leave her alone Meany head!" James shouted over her loud sobbing. The next thing she heard was a smack and the teacher's reprimand. James had gotten thrown in time out while the perpetrator had to apologize.

Both James and Megan had known he was not being truthful.

They had been friends all throughout elementary, high school, and beyond. They were in high school choir together. He was a bass, while she was a soprano. After high school, he had begun to grow distant from her and his family. He had fallen in with a gang, scrapping his plans to go to college and become a teacher.

It had taken many years, but James had finally gotten out of the gang, but had been killed during a drive by shooting, trying to stop two rival gangs from fighting. That was how James was though, always the peace maker, always the one trying to protect and help others.

He had broken down after he had finally left the gang. She remembered vividly how he had broken down at their favorite park, apologizing profusely for leaving her over his stupidity.

She hugged him fiercely, forgiving him in an instant. They were rather physical as friends which had a lot of people speculating if they were a couple, which had made Megan quite annoyed. There wasn't enough physical touch in this modern world in her view.

Touch was very important for bonding as humans.

"Lass." Bofur's voice brought her out of her memories.

"Sorry, it is just that Gloin reminds me a bit of my best friend, James." Tears sprang to her eyes, the pain hitting her full force. The sudden ache was quite staggering. She longed to see him once more.

"What is wrong?" Bofur asked.

"I miss him so fucking much," she said with a sob. "He died."

To her surprise, Bofur wrapped his arms around her. He didn't offer any empty chlishayed platitudes, but held her as she wept.

"I miss him so damn much, it's like loosin a body limb," she said.

"I know, I know," Bofur murmured, though he didn't try and shush her like so many people had, he just let her cry, heaving sobs that made it hard to breathe.

"I want him back!" she screamed into Bofur's shoulder. "I want him back. I can't do this shit without him. Why did he have to leave me?"

Bofur watched Megan helplessly, not knowing at all how to comfort her. Dwarves were not like humans, they were quite stubborn and unyielding as stone at times. Bofur hadn't met many humans, but he was beginning to understand how complex their emotions were. One minute they seemed to be happy, the next they were sad or anything else.

Greif lay heavy on her heart, that much he could see. He was glad that she was letting out her emotions, it was not good to keep them inside. Dwarves were raised to be stoic, keeping their feelings to themselves. May haps it was wrong of them to do so, especially for his king. Bofur was known for his cheerful outlook on life, but he was quite observant of others as well.

He had to be in order to make sure his cousin stayed on track of things. Thorin he could tell was an emotional dwarf, though he tried to hide it behind a mask of anger and harsh words. He remembered the evening that Balin had told the tale of his battle with Azog, the utter pain in his eyes was hard to dismiss. His snarled reply to Bilbo was an indicator of his torn feelings.

The dwarf had clearly not wanted any reminders of that night. May haps this human woman would gently help Thorin in releasing his hidden emotions.

Thorin cared deeply for others, but wasn't comfortable with showing that softer side. There were glimpses when he interacted with Fili and Kili, but as soon as those were over, the stern king returned. Sighing, he continued to rub her back until her weeping subsided. Thorin was not cold at all, though other dwarves mistook his stoicism for coldness.

King Thranduil however was cold. Only a cold person could turn away from helping dwarven refugees from a dragon.

"I'm sorry for that," said Megan.

"Do not be sorry," said Bofur. "There is no shame in weeping for one whom you have lost, grief is like that at times, it comes out of nowhere. The best you can do is to simply let it pass until the next wave comes."

"People kept telling me to just get over his death," said Megan. "People have this misguided notion that grief has a certain time table. I guess I internalized it as well. I used to talk about James all the time after he passed away, but people got tired of hearing about him, so I just shut up and repressed everything, though I didn't know that was what I was doing at the time. So, I just stopped talking about him to people and kept everything in. Not the healthiest thing for humans to do I have been told." She sighed, pulling herself together with an effort.

"I would be glad to hear about him if you ever wish to speak of him," said Bofur, walking back with her towards the dwarves.

"Thanks Bofur," she said. Bofur smiled at her as they sat with the dwarves around a campfire, sharing in the food that Bombur had prepared.

Bifur, Oin and Gloin greeted her, inviting her to sit with them. Glares and angry mutterings were sent their way.

Bombur simply stirred his soup, ignoring her completely. Bofur sighed. He would have to have a talk with his brother.

Thorin presently joined them, shortly followed by Bilbo a few minutes later. Angry muttering started again as the woman who served them their first night followed him.

"She is here at my invite," said Bilbo, glaring at the dwarves. "I do not need your approval to invite one whom I call friend." Bofur gave the woman a polite smile, offering her some soup, which she excepted in a rather shy manner which seemed rather unlike the pointy eared snobs.

"What are you doing here elf?" Nori growled. The elf merely ate her soup, ignoring Nori's question.

Nori continued to give her hostile glares throughout the meal, making her uncomfortable. Her eyes roamed the group, landing on Dwalin who was eating a piece of salted pork. His eyes met hers for a second and lingered as she gazed back.

Bofur looked at them in confusion, something seemed to draw their gazes, but he didn't know what. They looked away from each other and continued to eat.

Balin frowned at his younger brother. Dwalin shook his head, frowning back in confusion. Balin continued to frown until Dwalin scowled, shoving the elder's shoulder with his own.

Balin got the hint and continued to eat. Megan was talking to Gloin about something. Bofur didn't know what, but he could hear them laughing, which was a good sign.

Bofur expected Bilbo to give them jealous glances, but he did not. The hobbit merely smiled at them and continued to eat his mushroom pie. What was it with obits and mushrooms? Bofur didn't know, but he would have to find out.

He also supposed that hobbits didn't get jealous in relationships like dwarves sometimes did.

He didn't know a lot about the shire, only being familiar with it when he passed through it when he did trade from the blue mountains, he didn't know it well enough to know about hobbits and their customs.

That will have to change, Bofur thought. I am starting to like the little fellow.

He shook his head at himself. He seriously doubted that Bilbo would take being called little as an endearment.

The meal continued without any mishap, the strange glance between Dwalin and the elf—

What was her name? Oh yes, Avorniel. Bofur smiled at having remembered her name when she introduced it that first night.

The strange glance that she shared with Dwalin was put into the back of his mind. Desert was a wonderful tasting pie.

"What is this pie called?" he asked Bilbo.

"It is called sweet potato pie, a recipe from Megan's culture. She showed me how to bake it when first we met. She taught me quite a few recipes in fact."

"Why hasn't she shared them with us before?" Dori asked. Bofur could see that he hadn't been fond of the many times they had stew on the road. Bombur was quite talented in the kitchen, but when one was traveling, one had to stick to simple dishes that were fast to make.

"Because, I seriously doubt that sugar is easy to come by in this crazy place, and I can't exactly make mac and cheese whenever I want to while I am traveling. That shit takes time, and good luck findin kyan pepper for my Mom's fried fish recipe," Megan snapped back with a glower. "Also, tell me where I can find some good veggies to make collard greens on the damn road." She ignored Dori's grumbling and attacked her slice of pie.

A majority of the dwarves refused to touch their pie when they realized it had potato in it.

"It isn't natural having potato for desert," Dori grumbled. Megan placed down her plate after shoving the final fork full in her mouth. Bofur could see the hurt and sadness in her brown eyes. She was clearly missing her home and the people she knew.

"See if I introduce you to any of my people's dishes again," she said coldly before getting to her feet. "I'm not feelin well, she continued. "I think I will have a lay down." Bilbo immediately went to escort her back, a look of concern on his face.

She was beginning to cry again.

"She is grieving for her friend James," Bofur whispered to the hobbit as they passed. Bilbo nodded, a look of understanding crossing his features.

Thorin looked grim as he gave her shoulder a gentle pat and squeeze. Bofur saw a glimpse of knowing on his face. If there was one whom knew the signs of grief, it was Thorin Oakensheild.

"Get some rest," he said, the squeeze on her shoulder undermining his gruff tone. Megan nodded as Bilbo took her hand.

"He follows her around like a puppy," said Nori, gazing after them with mistrust and disgust on his face.

"They are obviously courting," said Gloin, glaring at him.

"More like she has insnared him with that mark on his wrist. She has also trapped our king with her evil ways." Thorin gave the thief a glare, eyes full of anger.

"You barely know the woman, yet you are fawning over her, allowing her to share your bed and to call you, her husband." Thorin's eyes flashed and his expression grew stony.

"I have my reasons for such a decision thief, and if you can recall, Master Baggins and I were the ones whom first had the idea to call her our wife. She had no idea of our motives of doing so." Nori was not fazed by Thorin's anger.

"This proves what I am saying," he challenged. "She has clearly cast some spell over you and the hobbit, and you are too brain dead to get yourselves out of it."

'Do you dare speak thusly to your king?" Thorin growled, eyes flashing. "My mind is not so easily ensnared by such foolish notions. She is marked as well, or have you forgotten this fact."

"You King is correct," said Avorniel. "We elves are closely tied to the Valar. Though we cannot communicate with them, we are aware of those whom are touched by them."

"Keep your dirty nose out of this she elf," Nori hissed. Bofur had to turn away from the look of utter hatred on his face. Avorniel's tone grew dangerous as she rose to her full height.

"I will not be spoken to like that. The marks were clearly not made by Lady Megan. Now, I shall hear no more insults about her from you. I care not for your lowly opinions of my friend." Avorniel gave Nori a look of utter contempt as she glided gracefully from the group.

Bofur could see out of the corner of his eye Dwalin's eyes trailing her. Avorniel glanced back at him, her contempt transforming into a gentle smile.

"I like your axes good dwarf, they are well crafted." Dwalin simply gazed at her as she swept away.

He shook himself out of it, muttering something about silly elven women. He took Nori's uneaten pie and shoved it in his mouth.

"I know not what you are all speaking of, this pie is wonderous. You all have bad taste in food," he grumbled, proceeding to eat Dori's, Balin's, then Fili's slices.

Bofur fought back his laughter as the warrior leaned back in the soft grass, closed his eyes, and began to snore, bits of pie crust still on his face.

Bilbo wrapped his arms around Megan as she drank a cup of apple cinnamon tea. He kneaded the muscles in her neck, making sure they were relaxed.

He didn't pry her with questions, he just let her be silent until she wished to speak.

"I really miss home you know," she finally said. "I don't mean to be so damn emotional."

"You would not be human if you did not let out your emotions," said Bilbo. "I would be rather worried if you just kept everything inside you."

"My society doesn't really approve of crying and showing emotions, especially in men. Women can show some emotions, but if they want to get ahead in the world, they can be precured to show more so-called masculine emotions. We are told that we are emotional when we are passionate about something, and are shrill and a shrew when we don't fall into the nice girl role.

Men are shamed and ridiculed for crying, especially in our media. They are asked if they are crying in an accusing tone, and they will say something like no, I just have something in my eye. Toxic masculinity is quite damaging to my society, men are not allowed to be full men with their emotions, they must be stoic like a rock in order to gain approval."

"Your society is wrong then," said Bilbo. "I shall never shame you for showing your emotions, but I shall help you through them."

"Thanks Bilbo," she said, giving him a kiss.

"Think nothing of it," Bilbo replied, laying down with her, and pulling her close.

They exchanged kisses and sips of tea along with quiet talk. Bilbo shivered as she bit gently on his ear. Bilbo set the empty teacup aside and gathered her close. Kissing her was far more important than tea at the moment.

"Your so damn sweet," she said to him. Bilbo laughed, biting her neck. She let out a soft moan of pleasure.

Bilbo grinned, a boldness coming over him that would make his reserved Father roll over in his grave. He deepened the kiss, his Tookish side roaring to life at the pleasure.

She was making him want to do rather unBagginsish things. The folks in the Shire would be talking if they heard the thoughts in his head. I must be going mad, he thought, placing his hand under her dress. He froze for a second, his Baggins side warning him to stop.

He shoved the Baggins voice aside and gave her nipple a squeeze. She let out a moan at this, shuddering in his arms. He froze in fear at the soft moan she let out.

"Keep going you sexy hobbit," Megan encouraged.

"Did I hurt you?" he squeaked in alarm.

"No, keep going, it feels good," said Megan. "Oh God I've needed this." Bilbo needed no further encouragement as he kneaded her nipple, receiving soft moans in return.

He gasped as her hands unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt. He shuddered as her hands found his nipple and kneaded it. They let out soft sounds of pleasure

Bilbo had never felt such an intense feeling before as her fingers worked. His heart pounded, and his breathing was soft pants.

He continued, making sure she was feeling her own pleasure, making sure he wasn't hurting her the hole time. He didn't want to get so lost in his own feelings that he forgot about her needs. She kept telling him that it didn't hurt whenever he wasn't sure.

Once they were both satisfied, they buttoned up their clothing and kissed once more. Bilbo rather liked it when she used her tongue.

"What do you call this?" he asked in between kisses.

"French kiss," she answered. This was one of the best things he had ever experienced. He could taste the tea that was on her tongue. Their kisses slowed after a while and they lay down, holding each other close. He gently combed his hand through her beautiful curls, arranging them to his satisfaction.

"Before I came to your world, I used to sleep naked," said Megan. "Does that make you uncomfortable?"

"If you had asked me that a year ago, I would have answered yes," said Bilbo. "I do not care if you wish to sleep without clothing, as long as you are comfortable." He could imagine his cousin Dora's look of utter disgust and long speech, which she called advice and how it was best to wait until marriage for such things. Megan was very different from the ladies of the Shire. She had bold ideas of what women could do if they were given the opportunity, and was free with expressing herself with her body, such as sleeping naked.

"I only do it in the summer when it is hot outside," said Megan, still wishing to make sure.

"It is true that I am a modest and sheltered hobbit compared to you," said Bilbo. "I have never in my life experienced such wonders as I have just done. I can confess that the idea of sleeping without clothing makes me uncomfortable, the neighbors would talk if I ever did such a thing for one, and it seems uncomfortable to me. I however, do not care if you sleep with clothing on or not. Do you wish to do so now?" he asked.

"Maybe tomorrow after I talk to Thorin. I don't want him to be alarmed."

"That is understandable. You live in an entirely different world than we do. The women in our world are not as free to express their ideas and ways of living. Before you came along, I had never thought of troubles that women faced. Women and men lived in two different worlds in my view. Now I am not so sure, you are are making me think and open my mind to different ideas. You told me once about how women made love before entering wed lock. I do not agree with doing such a thing, but that is simply how I was raised." Megan tensed, looking quite nervous.

"What is it?" Bilbo asked. He could see her start to withdraw into herself.

"I had sex before wed lock," she whispered. "Do you remember how I told you about my affair?" Bilbo nodded. "Well, we did more than just kiss if you can understand my meaning."

"I do," said Bilbo.

"I guess your ashamed of me, and if you want to leave me, I understand," said Megan, wrapping her arms around herself. Bilbo didn't like the almost sad and shrinking woman before him.

"No Megan," he said. "I told you once before. I do not care what you did in the past, and I do not care if you made love outside of wed lock. As I said, we live in different worlds. I do not own you Megan, and I have no right to get mad at you over something you did a long time ago. That frankly would be rather childish, and I do not stand for childish nonsense. I love you," he said, voice growing firm. "Nothing you ever did, or will do shall change that." She looked relieved after that.

They exchanged soft kisses before Bilbo closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

Thorin entered a few minutes later. He shut the door, took off his clothing, wearing comfortable breaches and a simple shirt, and lit his pipe.

"Is the party over?" Megan asked. Thorin could see that Bilbo was asleep.

"Aye, for the time being it is. Are you well?"

"I don't know yet," said Megan.

"Do you wish to speak of it?" Thorin asked. Megan shook her head.

"Maybe later," she said. "I am feeling rather tired, and in no mood to talk about it." Thorin understood this all too well from his own experiences. He hated it when people tried to push him to talk. Balin was a good example of this.

He loved the elder as a brother, but he drove him mad at times with his prying nature. Dwalin was different. If one wished not to talk about a subject, then Dwalin kept his silence on the matter until the other party was ready to speak of it.

Thorin preferred Dwalin's method. He respected the person's need to time to reflect or brood in his case, and didn't ask you hundreds of questions, trying to pry it from you.

A big part of him wished that Balin had asked his permition before telling the tale of his battle with Azog, but he knew that his nephews needed to understand the harsh reality of the world, and that orc raids were no laughing matter. Still, Balin could have asked him.

"That is understandable," he said.

"Will you lay with us?" Megan asked rather shyly.

"Are you certain?" Thorin asked. "I do not wish to pry or intrude."

"I need the company," said Megan. "I'm just so sad and overwhelmed by everything right now."

"As you wish," said Thorin, climbing into the bed to her left. Bilbo was on her right, spooning her right side. Thorin curled against her left, spooning the opposite side.

"Are you comfortable? DO you wish for another blanket?" Thorin asked.

"Yes, I am comfortable," said Megan, snuggling into both of them. Thorin nodded, watching as she fell asleep.

Despite his wishing to stay awake and keep guard from unwanted elves bursting in on their restful afternoon, his eyes grew heavy, feeling warm and cozy, he too drifted off to sleep, holding Megan's left hand without being aware of doing so.

It felt so good to just lay there and rest fully for once, Thorin thought, allowing the comforting warmth of the bed to drag him into a dreamless sleep.

He woke up about an hour later, blinking at the bright sun that seemed to blare through the window. Cursing the lack of coverage on the window, Thorin left the bed to close the window. He was not satisfied with the lack of covering, he didn't put it past the elves to spy on them.

He glared at the tree that stood outside the window, he managed to close the accursed window before laying back down.

Megan opened her eyes, blinking at the sun that still blared into the chamber.

"Geez, where is a fuckin curtain when you need one," she grumbled, sending the window a glare.

"That is what I wish to know," said Thorin with an irritated sigh. "Did you get some rest?"

"Yeah, I did," said Megan.

"Do you wish to eat dinner with the rest of the dwarves or in the dining hall?" Thorin asked. Megan shook her head.

"I don't feel like dealing with being social right now," she said.

"Aye, it is the same with me. Let us have dinner sent here. I shall see whom I can find to gather some food for us, and we can have a meal together this eve." Thorin left the chamber, hoping to find an elf whom would bring some food to them.

He was lucky to run into an elvan servant who promised she would have food sent to their chamber.

He re-entered the chamber a few minutes later, and lay back down.

As much as he wished to get out of this elven valley, it was good to forget his cares as a leader for one night. He glared at any elves that were spying on them, imaginary and real before climbing back into bed. Curse the elves, he thought.

Megan gave him a shy smile and took his hand. She looked far more at peace than she did earlier. Master Baggins was awake now.

"Shall there be food sent to us? Or should I find someone?" he asked.

"I have sent for our meal, it should be here soon," Thorin said, moving under the cover to get more comfortable. The hobbit nodded.

"I thought you would wish to share the evening meal with your elvish companions," said Thorin. Bilbo shook his head.

"Not this eve," he said. "It is nice to have time away from folks, I am quite happy eating here with yourself and Megan."

Bilbo gave Megan a peck on the lips. She smiled at him with a glowing look of admiration. Thorin felt a funny swooping in his stomach.

He found that she was quite pretty with her curls that were laid out anywhere and everywhere, she had a beautiful smile that reached her brown eyes. He shook his head at his thoughts, ignoring the flutter in his stomach and taring his gaze away from her hair.

He had no right to gaze upon her hair without her permition. Dwarves valued their hair, touching another's hair without gaining permition was considered impolite in their society.

He would not look upon her hair, no matter how beautiful it was. Yet, his eyes kept straying back when Bilbo brushed a curl out of her face.

It was strange that he didn't feel jealous at the action, dwarves were fierce when it came to love, and jealousy could easily spring forth when another looked at the one whom Mahal created for them. It was simply natural to see the hobbit with her, it was right, like how the sun rose in the east every morning. It would be a different matter altogether if someone else were to look at her the way Bilbo was. The thought caused a scowl to cross his face, the thought was simply wrong, no one would dare gaze upon her without receiving his best glare, she was too special for such blatant scrutiny. Thorin fought back a growl of anger, nobody would dare ravage her.

His thought stopped there. Surely Mahal would have created a dwarf for his one, not a human. Dwarven society was insular, and didn't allow outsiders. There would be chaos if he had a human as a queen, let alone his wife, it just didn't happen.

He couldn't ignore the pull inside him that drew him towards her. May haps his created made a mistake, they had only known one another over a month, it felt too soon for him to know that she was his one, and she was human for Durin's sake, how could it possibly work in the long term, dwarven society would determine to make sure it didn't work.

He couldn't deny the shiver of pleasure that went through him at her hand in his own.

Mahal made a mistake, that was all.

He looked for something to distract himself from his maddening thoughts. The only thing that drew his gaze was the sight of elves beginning to dance at the river. He scowled and returned his gaze back to the room.

An elf silently entered with a dinner tray with three plates and a covered dish, along with a decanter and three wine glasses. She silently placed it on the table beside the bed and left, closing the door behind her.

Thorin got up to reveal the dinner tray to the otherwise occupied couple whom were kissing passionately by now.

He was honestly amazed that the reserved hobbit had a passionate bone in his body, he seemed to reserved for such a thing. May haps the hobbit had another side to him that was hidden.

The hobbit's nose twitched, reminding Thorin forcefully of a rabbit. He and Megan broke apart to serve themselves some of the roast beef.

Thorin did his best to turn his gaze from her lovely form. He rather liked that she was nice and plump, unlike those hour glass elven figures.

He was distracted once more by the hobbit who handed him a plate loaded with roast beef in a thick sauce.

The three of them ate in silence for a while, enjoying the quiet of the room.

Thorin had to admit that the food was delicious. Fore dessert was more sweet potato pie.

Once the meal was complete, Thorin broke open the wine and poured each of them a glass. For an elvish wine, it was quite good, Thorin thought, taking a drink.

It tasted of strawberries. Megan became more outgoing, laughing at things Bilbo said, and telling stories of her college days.

Thorin grew more relaxed as the decanter grew empty, Megan and Bilbo were in a similar state, sitting on the edge of the bed feeding one another the last of the pie. Thorin thought this was sweet, though he would fiercely deny it if one were to ask.

A loud knock had Bilbo nearly dropping the pie dish.

"There's nobody home," he hissed in irritation. Thorin went to answer the door, promising the visitor a less than kind welcome.

He was not in the mood for people.

"Come and join us Uncle," said Fili's voice. "Bombur made mutton."

"No," said Thorin, glaring at his nephews. "I have eaten."

"We are going to bathe in one of the fountains, the elves shall hate it," said Kili sounding far too happy at the prospect.

"Do what you wish, I care not to join," said Thorin. Fili and Kili left the room after another glare, and Thorin went back to the bed chamber.

He sat back down on Megan's left, his stomach flipping when she took his hand in her free one.

The three of them lay down, enjoying the peace and quiet. They were nearly in a wine induced doze when a knock at the door caused them all to jump.

"It can wait until morning," Thorin grumbled. He was too comfortable laying there to deal with is boisterous company.

If they just pretended that nobody was in the chamber, then the person would leave, Thorin thought.

"Oh go away and bother somebody else," grumbled an annoyed Bilbo, burying his hand in Megan's curls.

"We should leave a no admittance sign," said Megan. Bilbo and Thorin chuckled quietly at the thought. The caller eventually gave up and left for their own devices.

They closed their eyes once more, letting the quiet and the wine send them back into a doze.

Dwalin walked along the corridor, he had knocked on Thorin's door to see if he wished to spar, but he was occupied. Dwalin knew to stay clear when he was occupied.

He continued to walk, letting his mind drift. He could hear distant echoing laughter of the dwarves as they sparred. His wandering feet lead him outside and down a steep hill that had him panting for breath.

He continued walking, the sound of his companions growing quieter as he went.

He sighed, thinking of Thorin and the lass that forced herself onto this company. He didn't like the situation that his King was in with that mark on his wrist. There were those whom thought that she put it there, but how could a weak human lass do such? She was not magical as far as he could tell. He shrugged, having no idea on the situation. It was simply strange when he thought upon it.

He didn't like that Thorin was forced into this against his will, it wasn't right.

He would have to see how things panned out. Sighing, he started to head back.

All he could see were trees and more trees all around him. Nothing else in sight but trees, and more of the damn things.

"Are you lost?" Dwalin whirled around at the voice, hand on his axe. It was Avorniel.

He turned to face her. Tears were glistening in her eyes.

"Aye, I am lost," he said. "I am trying to get back to the main house."

"You are near my cottage," said Avorniel. "Would you care to stop in and have some ale?" Dwalin looked at her. There wasn't a trace of the haughtiness that he had seen on other elves when he happened to run into them.

He hated that look, it seemed to say that they viewed themselves better than he because of their oh so precious immortality. She looked rather sad, which seemed unusual. Most of these tree huggers were merry, singing songs, dancing, and laughing. He ignored the voice that cautioned him about talking to elves.

This was rather unusual for him, since he never ignored his inner voice, it was in his warrior's training to never do such a thing. Something about this elf tugged at him, the same way that Miss Megan seemed to tug at Thorin.

He wanted to flee at this thought, but he found that he couldn't. His feet ignored his brain and walked him to where he was beside her.

"What troubles you, my lady?" he asked.

"I do not wish to trouble you good dwarf," she said, blinking back tears. "You are a guest in this valley, and it is my job to look after you whilst you are here."

"It is no trouble," Dwalin found himself saying. "I would have you tell me. Lead me to your cottage, I wish for an ale." Avorniel nodded, swiftly taking him into her home.

He was surprised to see such a quant little place. It was so humble looking in comparison to the main house. Her shoulders straightened in relief at being home once more.

Now that he thought on the matter, she never seemed comfortable in the main house. She loved working there, that was obvious, but it seemed to grand for her, as bad of a fit as Nori and cooking. It simply did not work.

Her manner had been kind, yes, but professional and business like as well. The house was not her place of comfort for her. Dwalin admired the place.

There wasn't any show boating as was the big house, it was a simple dwelling, tastefully decorated in a way that would invite people in. The main house seemed over decorated to him, as if the elf lord wished to show off his place in a flaunting manner. It was over the top compared to this little house.

A soft looking cat came up and rubbed at his leg, purring all the while. He gave the cat's head a gentle rub and sat down at the kitchen table where a large mug of ale with the perfect amount of foam was placed in front of him.

Avorniel sat across from him with her own mug.

"Daughter," said a male elf, silently gliding into the kitchen. "Your Mother and I are going to take a stroll by the water." He stopped when he saw the tear tracks on her face.

He nodded at Dwalin, giving him a friendly smile. Once again, no haughty expression was shown towards him. He turned back to his daughter, the smile turning to distress.

"Dear one, what is the matter? Whom has caused you to cry?"

"Lindir," Avorniel replied. "I don't know what has become of him Ada, he does not like my association with Master Bilbo Baggins and his wife, the Lady Megan. He seems to think mortals as inferior beings. I simply cannot do anything right in his eyes, I shall always be seen as a failure by him." Avorniel's Father sighed.

"I do not know what went wrong with him," he said. "We raised him to not be arrogant. That is the terrible price of immortality I am afraid. We elves live for so long that we become apathetic to those around us if we let ourselves be swayed by such feelings. Some have seen so much tragedy in their lives that they shut themselves away, refusing to concern themselves with the mortal world around them. It is not our concern, they say to themselves, we shall be leaving for the havens, mortals are not our concern. They are wrong daughter, they shall always be our concern, even when we sail west. They are a part of this world and live such short lives. It is our job to help them see wisdom and be their friends, not shut ourselves off from them.

I have had many mortal friends who's lives have been stopped. Each death has been painful, but that does not stop me from caring. Lindir has let his pride overcome him." Avorniel nodded. "It isn't easy being estranged from my brother, we were so close when we were little and now, he cannot stand the sight of me."

"It is difficult," her Father agreed. "All we can do is pray that Eru shows him guidance," he sighed, looking as if he didn't believe his own words. "Though there I times that I wonder if he would take the guidance and learn from it. I must confess that I despair in my parenting, I feel sometimes that it is my fault, that I didn't emphasize the need for empathy." He laughed a short and bitter sounding thing. "Parenting is not easy, even for we elves." He gave her a sad smile, patting her shoulder. "Now, if you are satisfied with your companion, I shall be off. Your Mother is waiting for me, and you know how eager she is for an adventure." He laughed, ruffling her hair as his cheerful demeaner returned.

"Have a good time Ada," she said, giving him a hug.

He gave Dwalin one final friendly smile before leaving. That has to be an elvish Bofur, he thought.

His merry attitude reminded him strongly of the hatted dwarf.

Dwalin sat with Avorniel, enjoying his ale. He didn't say much, knowing from experience as Thorin's friend that silence was sometimes the best cure over advice all the time as Balin thought.

He loved his brother, but this trait of his drove him and Thorin mad. Why did he deem it vital to share his experiences all the time, why couldn't he be silent at times and let one sit with their own thoughts. He knew that Balin only wished to help, and this was his way, but still, sometimes folks needed silence in order to regroup their thoughts and feelings.

Neither method was a magic cure all for stress and strain, something else he knew from Thorin, but it was still a good tool to use. Thorin had so much on his plate as the leader of this quest, and he knew quite well that he didn't need Gandalf's demands, nor Balin's endless spade of advice. This caused him to be so tense and stressed that Dwalin brought out his axe and lead him through a sparring match to try and get him focused on something other than the problem he was dealing with.

She sighed, setting down her empty mug.

"Do you wish to go back to your companions?" she asked. Dwalin nodded. He got to his feet and followed her from the cottage.