PART ONE: ANACHRONISM

Chapter XXXII: Dwarves Come To The Rescue

I sat beneath an elm tree, my legs pulled up to my chest and my forehead resting on the tops of my knees. I don't know how much time passed as I sat there. A long time, I suppose. Time slips by more slowly when you're grieving. Or maybe it slips by faster. You know what I'm talking about. It feels as though everything takes forever, as if every moment drips by endlessly, but then, when you stop grieving and look at the clock, you realize that time has raced by you and you've missed half your life.

I sat beneath that grizzled tree for what felt like a few long, agonizing minutes, but was probably a few long, agonizing hours.

All I could see was Boromir. His laughing face. His angry face. His sad face. His determined face. Right before that orc fired the arrow. Boromir…and Faramir. I had promised Faramir that I would save his brother. What happened to that? How could I tell Faramir that I had failed? Even with the chance to save Boromir in my grasp, I had still let him die. How could I ever face Faramir again?

Who was I to make such a promise in the first place? Who had I been kidding? I couldn't save anyone. I couldn't even save myself. I'd been lost in Middle Earth for so long that I'd even forgotten that I was lost. What was I doing? Was I going to spend my life half in Ohio and half in Middle Earth? Was I going to end up insane like Atanalcar?

I tipped my head back and stared at the diseased forest around me. The trees were crooked, their branches twisting and turning, reaching for something that wasn't there. The forest seemed to sag under some unseen weight. A heavy mist had settled about, curling around the trees, rocks, and leaves; it clung to everything like a thick sickness.

I felt at home right then. Amongst the decay and the destruction, I found companionship. Right then, if given the choice, I would've stayed there in the rotting forest and died with it.

But the world did not want that.

My grieving session came to an abrupt end with the arrival of the Company.

They thundered through the forest like a stampede. I love dwarves, but they no very little of stealth. They talked amongst themselves about how much they disliked the forest, about how they thought they were going in circles, and about how much they wished Gandalf was still with them. Their conversations were cut short, however, when they saw me curled up at the base of the elm tree.

"Who is there?" asked Ori.

"Do not panic," said Nori. "It is only Ana."

"Oh." Ori paused and then added, cheerfully, "Hello, Ana."

I didn't move. My face was buried in the tops of my knees and my eyes were wrenched shut. I refused to look at the dwarves. I refused to look at anything. I wanted to stay there, as far away from the world as I could get. The dwarves were not helping my wish come true.

"Ana?" asked Ori tentatively.

"Has she died?" asked Bombur. He sounded genuinely worried.

"No," said Balin. "She is breathing. Dead people do not breathe."

"That we know of," muttered Dwalin. "I would not put it past her to defy even death."

Dwalin didn't know it, but his words made me feel even worse.

Kíli prodded my shoulder. "She is not responding."

"I do not think that she wants to be bothered." Bilbo's nervous voice was distinct from the rest.

"But she is Ana," said Bofur. "She always enjoys being bothered."

"Rather, she likes to be the one doing the bothering," said Fíli.

"So then, why is she not bothering us?" asked Bofur.

"Because she has died," said Óin.

"Perhaps she is sleeping," said Glóin.

Dwalin grumbled, "She is a very heavy sleeper."

"Should we wake her up?" asked Kíli.

He shook my shoulder roughly. I tried to ignore him, but the shaking was too much. Finally, I gave up pretending that I was dead. I lifted my head from my knees and stared at the beardless face of Kíli. He immediately stopped shaking me. He took a step away from me and glanced nervously over his shoulder at Fíli. Fíli didn't notice his brother's look; he was staring at me in mute horror. All the dwarves were.

At the time, I didn't know what had shocked all the dwarves. Though, Fíli told me later: I looked like hell. My shoulder was bleeding from the orc's blade, I had purple blood splattered on my face and neck, and my eyes were red and puffy. The lids were almost swollen shut so my eyes were nothing more than slivers. My nose was pink and my cheeks were stained with the traces of tears. If ever there was a time that I looked truly ugly, it was then.

"What has happened to you?" asked Glóin.

I didn't respond. There were no words.

"Ana?" Bilbo stepped forward. He didn't seem to know whether to hug me or to speak kind words or whether to do anything at all. After a moment, Bilbo stepped back amongst the others, his head bowed and his eyes filled with concern.

"Thorin?" asked Kíli. "What should we do?"

"We should move on," said Thorin gruffly. "We have places to be and we are pressed for time."

"What do you mean?" asked Dori. "We cannot leave her here."

Thorin stared at me for a good, long moment. I stared at a mushroom at my feet. It had turned brown, the top deflated and watery.

"She will be fine on her own." Thorin turned away from me.

"We cannot leave her like this!" cried Ori.

"We do not even know if it is actually Ana," said Balin. "Look at her face. Ana's face is not so red and so puffy."

"If you look closely," said Nori, "she does resemble Ana."

Thorin sighed. "She is Ana."

"Then why is she not talking?" asked Bofur.

Finally, I found my voice. "He's dead."

The dwarves all turned to stare at me, puzzled expressions on their faces. I didn't look at any of them. My eyes remained fixed on the decaying mushroom. However, despite the cold grief that filled every inch of me, my mouth moved and I managed to find the will to keep on talking. "I promised his brother that I would save him. And I tried to save him. I tried so hard. But, in the end, it wasn't that I couldn't save him, it was that he had to die."

The dwarves didn't know what to say—not that I could blame them. How do you comfort someone who just watched her best friend die? The answer is that you really can't.

Bofur knelt down on the ground next to me. He smiled, the ears of his hat flopping about. "You tried your best, Ana. No one can say differently."

"Why did he have to die?" I asked. I didn't really expect an answer.

"Sometimes you cannot help these things," said Dori.

"But I can. I stopped it once. They all died, and I changed it. So then, why couldn't I save him this time? Why did it have to happen like this?"

The dwarves exchanged nervous glances. None of them seemed able to find the words to answer me. But then, Thorin said, "You will find the answers."

I looked up at him. "What are the answers?"

"You will discover them," said Thorin. "Just not from me." He addressed the dwarves next. "We need to move on. It does no good to linger on the paths of Mirkwood."

"But what should we do about Ana?" asked Ori.

"Leave her," said Thorin. "She has her problems just as we have ours."

Thorin started to move. Kíli, Fíli, and Balin made to follow him, but the rest of the dwarves and Bilbo remained rooted to the spot. Their gazes were fixed on me. I glanced at Thorin and found that he was now watching me with the twisted expression on his face. The moment he realized I was watching, however, Thorin's expression shifted back to neutral. With a sigh, he marched back to where I sat.

"It is impossible to be rid of you," said Thorin. Then he picked me up. I mean, really, he just picked me up—right off the ground—and slung me over his shoulder. Then, Thorin turned to the rest of the Company and said, "Are you satisfied now? She is coming with us. Now let us move on."

The other dwarves stared, open-mouthed, as Thorin continued on down the path of Mirkwood, carrying me over his shoulder. A couple of them (Fíli and Kíli) chuckled and started after us. A few (Balin, Bifur, Bofur, and Bilbo) exchanged confused glances before following. The rest just kind of trailed after us, unable to comprehend exactly what was going on, but fine with listening to Thorin.

I, however, was not happy about it. Not happy at all. "Put me down! Thorin, put me down! I am not a sack of potatoes that you can throw around at your will! I have feelings, you know! This is undignified! You are going to turn around, right now, and put me down under that tree and leave me there to wallow in my suffering! Put me down!"

"Under that tree, you are a hindrance to my journey," said Thorin. "I cannot afford delay, so I must take the delay with me."

I pounded my fists on his back. "You stupid dwarf! You stupid, arrogant, old dwarf! I hate you! I hate you! When you die, I won't even try to save you! I'll just stand over your corpse and laugh. I'll laugh and laugh and laugh! Put me down!"

"Perhaps you should put her down," said Ori nervously. "She does not sound happy."

"I think she looks much more lively," said Bofur with a smile. "I like her best when she talks too much."

"Don't support Thorin!" I cried, pointing madly in the general direction of Bofur. "Tell him to put me down! I will not be treated like this! Do you hear me? I want to be left alone!"

Thorin sighed. "We should have left her under the tree. She was much quieter then."

"Why are you agree with me?" I screamed. "You're the one who's carrying me!"

"She is definitely not dead," said Dwalin, putting his hands over his ears.

"But she has returned to normal," said Fíli. "Though she has not praised Thorin's majesty yet."

"Thorin!" I elbowed the back of his head. "I don't care how majestic you are! You can't do this!"

Fíli grinned. "I stand corrected."

"Don't you understand my suffering? Are you this heartless? What kind of king are you? You may be majestic, but you have no feelings!"

Thorin adjusted my position on his shoulder, and I could hear the smirk in his voice as he said, "Majesty is my only emotion."

"Don't use your majesty against me! It isn't funny!"

"You are jealous of my majesty. Understandable."

And then, suddenly, I was laughing and crying all at once. I rested my head against his back and buried my face in my hands. A shrieking laugh rose from within me, and all of a sudden I was giggling and snickering and laughing all at once. And I was crying. About how much I missed Boromir, how much I adored Thorin, how much I hated my life, how much I needed these dwarves, and how much I wanted this to end. For how much longer would this go on? Why me? Why did I have to Skip?

"I think she has quite lost her mind," said Bilbo.

"It's called majestic therapy," I said between the laughter and the tears. "You should try it some time. It's very effective."

"Majestic what?" asked Nori.

"Do not ask," said Balin. "This is another one of her oddities. Just nod and act as though you know of what she speaks."

"I love you, Thorin," I said.

He grunted in response.

"I love you, Bilbo," I said.

"I love you too," said Bilbo hesitantly. He glanced around at the dwarves for help.

"I love you, Fíli. I love you Kíli."

"You are filled with so much love today," said Fíli.

"I love you too!" Kíli beamed at me.

I giggled and tried to wipe away some of my tears (which was hard to do with Thorin carrying me over his shoulder). "I love you, Óin. I love you, Glóin. I love you, Ori. I love you, Dori. I love you, Nori."

"She has cracked," said Dori. "Like when you drop the egg and the yolk comes spilling out. She has quite cracked."

"I love you, Bifur. I love you, Bofur. I love you, Bombur."

"And I love you, Ana," said Bofur.

"I love you, Balin. I love you, Dwalin."

"How should I respond to this?" asked Balin.

Dwalin shrugged. "I do not understand what is happening."

I hiccupped and then laughed even harder. I couldn't stop crying. It was hard, so hard. I understood what the Company was trying to tell me in their own bumbling way, that this wasn't my fault, that no one blamed me, that they would be there for me, that they wouldn't leave me behind, that I needed to keep going. But knowing something and understanding it logical was very different from feeling something. My chest hurt and my eyes stung, and all I could think about was Boromir.

Suddenly, Thorin stopped walking. The rest of the Company stopped behind him, watching curiously as Thorin lifted me off his shoulder and placed me on the ground, facing him. He stared at me, his blue eyes filled with intensity.

"Stop," he said.

I hiccupped again. "What?"

Thorin gritted his teeth and tried again. "You cannot change what is meant to happen."

"You don't know that. You don't know anything about Skipping. I did changed things before. When they went through the Gap of Rohan—"

"You cannot change what is meant to happen," repeated Thorin. "Now stop crying."

I wiped my eyes but the tears kept falling. "I can't."

"Yes, you can."

To this day, I don't know how I stopped crying. I really don't. I just remember Thorin glaring at me for a good few seconds. And then, suddenly, I stopped. I hiccupped once or twice more but not another tear was shed.

"Good," said Thorin. "Now ramble about something stupid so that the others can stop worrying about you and be concerned with the situation at hand."

He started walking again, and the rest of the Company followed him. I stared at Thorin's back for a moment. Did he really just comfort me? If you can call that comforting…it was really more of commanding me. But still… Did Thorin really just stop me from crying? I'd expected him to ignore me, to complain about what a nuisance I was and leave me for the rest of the Company to deal with. But Thorin had picked me up and carried away from my grieving tree. He had talked to me and scolded me for being stupid. Maybe Thorin cared more than I thought he did. Maybe Thorin had emotions other than majesty.

And then, it struck me.

"Why am I here?" I asked.

Now, I know you're silently calling me stupid because I was only just realizing this now, but you have to understand that I was emotionally distraught at the time. What was going on didn't really register with me, and it wasn't until I'd gone through some majestic therapy that I started to process what was going on around me.

Fíli glanced over his shoulder. "We do not know why you are here. You Skip, you say so yourself. One moment you are not here and the next you are not."

"No, no, no." I shook my head. "I Skipped here. But I shouldn't have Skipped here."

"Why should you not have Skipped here?" asked Balin.

"Do you not like us?" asked Ori. He looked heartbroken. "Do you not like being with us?"

"Of course I like you," I said. "I just tearfully told you all that I loved you in case you forgot. But I'm saying that I shouldn't be here because I was with the Fellowship in Middle Earth before this. I should be in Ohio right now. I always Skip from Ohio to Middle Earth back to Ohio back to Middle Earth back to Ohio. This time I Skipped form Middle Earth to Middle Earth. This should not happen."

"You are only just realizing this now?" asked Thorin.

"I'm grieving," I snapped. "My brain isn't working at full capacity right now. But this is wrong. This is wrong. Why is this happening?"

"Maybe you are coming here more often because you would rather be in Middle Earth," said Bofur.

I frowned. "But…I don't belong here."

"Is there some set of rules for me to read that describes the criteria to belong to Middle Earth?" asked Balin. "If there is, please, show it to me."

"I do not believe there is one," said Bilbo.

"Then I suppose we can say that Ana belongs to Middle Earth," said Balin.

"Where would Middle Earth be without someone to praise Thorin's majesty?" muttered Dwalin.

"Middle Earth would not be fun at all," agreed Ori.

"You all are full of it," I sad, crossing my arms. "Seriously. I don't like this. Just go back to making fun of me or something. Call me beardless and weird and make fun of the fact that I can't run." I gulped and, in a small voice, added, "But thank you."

"Don't start crying again," said Kíli quickly. "Uncle Thorin will have to carry you like a sack of potatoes again."

I glanced over at Thorin. He didn't seem angry, however, just faintly amused.

"A sack of potatoes sounds good right now," said Bombur.

The other dwarves nodded in agreement.

"Some nice roast potatoes," said Nori, "spiced with garlic and herbs."

"And some lamb," said Dori. "Meat falling off the bone."

Dwalin groaned. "You will make me start to drool."

I looked around at the Company. All of them—even Thorin—looked tired and starving. It must have been some time since they'd had a proper meal. Bombur was pretty great at cooking, so I didn't know what forest they must be in if they couldn't find any edible food. Curiously, I asked, "Where are we?"

"Mirkwood," said Balin.

I glanced at the rotting mushroom and decaying elm tree. Of course we were in Mirkwood. But then, a feeling of horror started to creep into my chest. "Isn't this forest where Legolas lives?" I shuddered. "And I wanted to be one of the dying trees here and spend the rest of my life in this place? Oh God, I must've gone mad with grief."

"Did she say she wanted to be a dying tree?" asked Kíli.

"I do not know why she would wish such a thing," whispered Nori. "Trees are very dull."

"This is as it should be," said Fíli. "The less we understand about Ana, the more normal life is."

"We like you whether you want to be a tree or not, Ana," added Ori quickly.

"I don't want to be a tree." I paused. "You're in Mirkwood, and you're starving…" I blinked, remembering Thorin in the darkness of a prison cell mentioning something like this. "If you encounter any elves, run in the opposite direction."

"Why would we do that?" asked Bilbo.

Before I could answer, I Skipped.

To this day, I still remember my encounter with the Company in Mirkwood. It is one of the memories I hold on to when I wake up in the night, shivering and frightened, the haunted by the images of things I'd rather forget. I don't think I ever properly thanked them. There aren't proper words to say how much that meant to me. So I'm telling you now, I would not have survived without the Company.