PART ONE: ANACHRONISM

Chapter XLII: How To Run Up

I met Bonnie and Nick at the coffee shop later that week. Don't judge me! My life revolves around coffee, okay. That's the biggest flaw of Middle Earth. It's not the orcs. It's not the wars. It's not even the elves. It's the lack of coffee. Anyway, I'm getting off topic. You've had coffee. You know how great it is. I don't have to explain all this to you.

So, coffee shop. Me. Nick. Bonnie. We were sitting inside, crowded around a wooden table. It was late fall, and the weather had begun to get chilly. We had our jackets and scarves draped over the back of our chairs, and we were leaned forward, hands wrapped around the hot cups.

"And that's the story." After I had caught them up on recent events, I took a large gulp of my latte, emptying the cup.

"So," said Nick. "Frodo already knew who you were?"

I nodded. "He said I met him at Bilbo's and his birthday party."

"But you never went to their birthday party," said Bonnie.

"Nope."

"So he's lying?" asked Bonnie.

I hesitated. "Well, Frodo's not the type to lie about something like that."

"Or maybe…" Nick paused to take a sip of his mocha. "Frodo is telling the truth. He really did meet Ana at Bilbo's party; Ana just hasn't gone to Bilbo's party yet. But at some point, she will Skip to the party and meet Frodo there."

"That would make sense," I said. "Except this has never happened before. Usually people don't know me until I show up. It's a rule."

"The Senturiel has rules?"

"Yeah," I said. " I came up with then when I was thirteen. Rule Number One." I used my fingers to count off the rules. "I Skip between Ohio and Middle Earth. I Skip to Ohio then to Middle Earth then to Ohio…" I trailed off. "Except I've Skipped to Middle Earth multiple times in a row recently."

"At least, you haven't Skipped to a new world yet," said Bonnie.

"Right," I said. "Rule Number One has changed. I Skip between two worlds and that's it. Rule Number Two: I cannot go to the same time twice." I paused. "Except I've been in the same time twice, but in different places."

"So, you can be in two places at once?" asked Nick.

"I guess so."

"That's frigging awesome."

"But I can't live through the same scene twice," I said. "Rule Number Three. If I go to the future and then to the past. My actions in the past time will affect the rules of the future time, but I will not remember the changes to the future time."

"That makes no sense," said Bonnie.

"It sorts of makes sense…" Nick trailed off. "Nope. Never mind. I don't get it."

"So," I said. "Let's say, hypothetically, I met Thorin at Bilbo's dwarf party. And that was the first time I ever met Thorin. The Smaug stuff did not happen. He would be suspicious of me and I'd have to explain to him who I was. Okay? Well, then let's say I Skip to before Bilbo's dwarf party. Thorin would not know me and I'd have to introduce myself to him again and explain to him who I was again. But that would change the time when I meet Thorin at Bilbo's dwarf party, because he would remember me. But I won't remember the changes made at Bilbo's dwarf party, I will only remember the first time I met Thorin and introduced myself to him."

"This is too complicated for me," said Bonnie. "My little brain can't take it."

"Except now," I said. "Frodo remembers me even though I haven't met him in the past yet."

"Well, that's the opposite of Rule Number Three," said Nick.

"My head hurts," muttered Bonnie.

"Don't think too hard," said Nick. "From what I can gather, all of Ana's rules are bullshit."

"Thanks," I said.

"Well, it's true," said Bonnie. "Not only do they not make sense, but you ended up having an exception for all of them."

Nick nodded. "So, basically, there are no rules."

"The Skips just do whatever they want. If anything, that's even worse than the rules." I rested my head on the table. I lay there, my cheek pressed against the cool metal of the tabletop.

Despite my misery, it was nice catching up with Nick and Bonnie. Nick was halfway through his final semester in college and now he was talking about med school applications. (You'll be surprised to know that Nick is very smart. He leaves Bonnie and me in the dust in terms of grades.) Bonnie, on the other hand, had spent the past month trying to put everything back in order. She'd had to tell her parents that she'd gone hiking in the forests of New Zealand, and she was sorry for not telling them about her spontaneous year-long trip. Like Nick, she was planning to finish her college education as soon as she could. In the meantime, she was working as a bartender downtown. I told them about my numerous failed attempts to get a new job and about my newly developed habit of going to the gym three times a week. Needless to say, they had both been shocked to hear the latter.

"You do know that's disgusting," said Bonnie, staring down at me as I used the table top for a pillow. "Think of all the people who spill their coffee, put their dirty hands, their dirty napkins on that table. It's got to be nasty."

I sat up, removing my head from the filthy tabletop, and glared at Bonnie. "Don't ruin my wallowing."

"Wallowing is serious business," said Nick.

"You know what's even better than wallowing," I said.

"What?" asked Bonnie.

"Brooding."

"Here she goes," said Nick. "More Thorin fangirling."

"But it's true," I said. "It's so majestic. When you put him on a mountainside during the night with only the moonlight and a fire for lighting. Perhaps throw in some gentle wind. Then have Thorin stare off into the distance brooding and having flashbacks—he's amazing. Wallowing is one thing, brooding is on a whole different level."

"Does she talk about Thorin all the time?" asked Bonnie. "Is that all I missed in the last year?"

Nick sighed. "She'll work it into every conversation if she can."

"You two just don't appreciate Thorin," I said.

"I've never met him," said Bonnie. "How am I supposed to appreciate him?"

"I've met him," said Nick. "He's not as majestic as Ana makes him out to be. He is majestic but not that majestic."

I gasped. "Nick! Blasphemy! Be gone! You are no longer part of this friendship! Be gone from my sight, you—!" I Skipped. "—rotten piece of goblin fodder."

"Who is a rotten piece of goblin fodder?" asked a deep, dwarfish voice.

I blinked. I wasn't sitting in the coffee shop anymore. I was standing on the steep slope of a mountainside beneath a blue sky. The ground was a mix of flat rock, dirt, and roots. I was on the lower part of the mountainside, where the vegetation was thick. Clusters of pine trees towered overhead; their needles were scattered on the earth below, slowly turning brown. Standing beneath these pine trees was a group of dwarves (thirteen of them to be exact), a hobbit, and a wizard.

It had been Dori who asked me about "a rotten piece of goblin-fodder".

"I wasn't talking about you," I said, laughing sheepishly. "Skipping is really awkward, you know. It had a really warped sense of humor."

If I remembered the landscape correctly, we were standing on the mountainside not far from where the dwarves had escaped goblin town—which meant that Bilbo had just found the Ring, which meant that the dwarves had been talking bad about Bilbo behind his back, which meant that Bilbo had given his adorable speech, which meant I had been here before, which meant the orcs were about to attack.

I start turning about madly, searching for our soon-to-be attackers.

"Ana? What is the matter?" asked Bofur, stepping forward. He seemed as though he wanted to do something—pat my shoulder, hug me, comfort me, or at least do something. "You look upset…"

I glanced over my shoulder madly. "Wargs…"

"Where?" asked Thorin.

"They're—"

A deep howl echoed through the landscape. Like the horn of our approaching demise, the howl rolled through the rocky, tree-covered slopes, twisting amongst the mountains and returning to us tenfold. It sent shivers up my spine, and the dwarves around me tensed, their hands inching towards their weapons. Bilbo turned pure white and looked about ready to pass out.

"There!" cried Ori.

Behind us, the wargs were standing on a stone ledge, looking out over the slope. Their black eyes narrowed with delight and hunger at the sight of their prey—us. Riding on the backs of the wargs were orcs. With weapons poised, the Gundabad orcs leered at us, revealing their crooked, yellow teeth.

"Run!" someone shouted. I don't know who it was. I wasn't really paying attention. I just followed instructions. I ran, like all hell was chasing me, and I didn't look back.

The whole Company sprinted down the slope. The wargs chased after us, their feet pounding on the rocky ground and their teeth snapping together. Nori was in the lead of our flight, his triangular hair bouncing up and down. Fíli and Kíli followed closely behind him. Then came Balin, his white hair swinging wildly in rhythm. Then there was Ori and Óin. Ori was clutching his little slingshot in his right hand and with his left he was searching his pocket for some ammo. Óin didn't bother arming himself; his only thought was run. Bombur came after then. He was practically rolling down the slope, his layers of fat rippling as he sprinted. Bofur and Bifur were chasing after their brother/cousin, trying desperately to keep up in case he rolled off the edge of the mountain. Then there was Glóin and Gandalf. Glóin leapt down half the slope, taking massive bounds as he went. Gandalf ran in long strides, huffing a little. Dwalin thundered after them, his shoes slapping against the forest floor. Then there was Dori and Bilbo. Dori had a thin layer of sweat on his brow, and poor Bilbo was turning paler by the second. I brought up the rear with Thorin.

"Run faster!" roared Thorin.

"I'm trying!" I wailed. "I've been going to the gym when I can—it isn't working!" I glanced at Thorin and then added, "The gym is this place that you go to exercise and lose weight and get in shape."

Thorin groaned. And then—before I knew what was happening—he scooped me up and flung me over his shoulder. I clung onto Thorin's cloak, praying to dear God that he wouldn't drop me.

"You crazy dwarf! Crazy, crazy dwarf!" I lifted my head from his back and saw the wargs chasing after us; they were frothing at the mouths. I screamed louder. "Run faster, you crazy dwarf!"

"The gym is not working," said Thorin, shifting me on his shoulder.

All peril forgotten, I prodded Thorin in the back and said, indignantly, "Are you calling me fat?"

Thorin didn't answer, because at that moment, the dwarves reached the end of the slope—and it ended in a cliff. I'm not kidding. Of all the things that had to happen, that might possibly be the worst. We were out of room to run. We were stuck between either falling off a cliff and going splat on the forest floor far below or being devoured by massive wolves and cleaved to pieces by orcs. Those were two great choices.

The dwarves didn't even have time to start panicking over their doom—the wargs were upon us.

One warg leapt at me, its jaws open wide. I screamed. Thorin spun around. His sword flashed, but I didn't see what happened since I was still clinging to Thorin's back. Instead, I saw Bilbo stabbing a warg through the head—but then, Thorin spun around again, his sword striking the orc in the head. I saw blood.

Gandalf shouted something that I couldn't hear. But I figured he'd given an order as the dwarves started running towards the trunk of the trees.

Thorin leapt off a rock to avoid an orc's blade. He landed roughly on the ground, causing my head to bobble up and down. My chin slammed into Thorin's shoulder, and my whole head felt dizzy. He shifted me to a piggyback position, which only made my spinning head worse. When I regained my vision, I saw that the dwarves were climbing the trees, the wargs snapping at their heels.

Then, to my horror, Thorin caught hold of a tree branch and swung upwards.

I shrieked and buried my face in my hands.

"Calm down," said Thorin, lifting us another branch higher on the tree.

"How can I be calm!?" I asked. "Wargs are trying to eat us! Orcs are trying to kill us! We have nowhere to run and now we're climbing up trees!" My hands were shaking and wrenched my eyes shut so I didn't have to look at the ground, which was so very far below us.

"That is where we are running to," said Balin, who had lodged himself in between two branches of the same tree. He stood a little ways above us, holding on for dear life, as he gazed down at Thorin and me. "We are running up."

"Can't we run down?" I asked. "Can we tunnel out of here?"

"You become even less intelligent when you are scared," said Thorin.

"Sometimes, I can't stand you!" I wrapped my arms tighter around his shoulders. "Please don't drop me."

Thorin continued climbing until we were out of reach of the wargs. He caught hold of a thick branch above and, keeping his feet firmly set on the branch below, braced himself. He did not put me down, but held onto me, locking me into position to make sure I wouldn't fall.

At first, I wasn't sure what was going on—I could only see the orcs and wargs wandering about on the ground below—but then, one warg started to howl and all the other wargs took up the cry. A shiver ran down my spine, and then, the wargs began attacking the trees.

I remember this scene very well. Bilbo, Dori, Óin, and Bifur shared the tree furthest from the cliff. Bilbo had his arms wrapped around the tree trunk and his eyes clenched shut. Óin sat on a branch a little ways below Bilbo. Dori clung to a particularly thick tree branch. Bifur was the best tree climber, but even he could not keep his hold as the wargs threw their bodies against the base of the tree. The wargs would leap up into the air—gaining great heights—and slammed into the tree trunk, their teeth snapping at Óin's heels. The tree trembled, its trunk swaying and its branches quivering. For a terrifying second, I thought that Bilbo was going to fall out of the tree, but he managed to hold on, just barely. The wargs continued to slam into the tree trunk, trying to send the dwarves and hobbit tumbling to the ground.

The wargs did not stop with the first tree. They moved onto the others. The next tree contained Fíli, Kíli, Dwalin, and Ori. The dwarves shouted and held on for their lives. Fíli managed to grab hold of Kíli before the young dwarf went tumbling down into the jaws of a huge, black warg. The third tree contained Glóin, Bofur, and Bombur. The tree groaned under Bombur's weight as a warg smashed into the trunk. Glóin was repeatedly saying the same Khuzdul phrase over and over against under his breath. The fourth tree contained Balin, Thorin, Nori, Gandalf, and me. It was the last tree. It rested on the edge of the cliff, looking down over the long drop below.

My teeth chattered together in time with the tree's vibrations. Each warg made the tree shake from the roots up. At one point, Thorin lost his grip and almost fell from the tree, taking me with him. As I felt Thorin start to fall, I scrambled for a handhold, but my fingers werne't strong enough to hold Thorin's weight as well as mine, and they gave out. I thought I was going to die, splattered on the mountainside and then devoured by wargs. But Thorin managed to grab another branch and hold us in place.

"Oh my God," I gasped.

Another warg slammed into the trunk. Thorin kept an iron grip on the branch.

"I don't want to die," I said. "Not like this."

"Hold on," grunted Thorin.

The tree jerked backwards and forwards. The roots moaned in protest.

"Thorin," I said. "If we die, I just want you to know that you are a very important person to me."

"You are acting stupid again."

I groaned. "But I've been trying hard to stop being stupid in serious situations."

Thorin might have actually laughed at that, but I couldn't be sure because the tree was shaking so much and his face was turned away to me. All he said was ,"Do something useful and hold on."

I clung to the tree branch with one hand and to Thorin with the other. I'm not sure if I was helping or hindering him, but with all the strength I had in me, until my hands turned white, I held on.

And then, the trees fell.

Well, not all of them and not all at once. I was being dramatic there.

Bilbo, Óin, and Bifur's tree went down first. It's trunk snapped and the tree started to lean. I thanked whoever was listening for athletic dwarves as Bifur and Óin leapt onto the branches of the next tree, and Dori helped Bilbo make the jump. Fíli, Kíli, Dwalin, and Ori helped the dwarves and Bilbo scurry out of the wargs' reach.

However, they didn't have long to rest as the roots of the second tree let out a deep grunt and then gave in. As the second tree fell backwards, the dwarves flung themselves at the next tree, leaping towards the branches. Fíli hung from one branch, his feet swinging to and fro.

"Kíli!" cried Fíli.

"Fíli!" cried Kíli.

Kíli was half-falling off a branch with Dwalin holding onto the back of his shirt to keep him from falling to his death. The wargs teeth looked awfully sharp.

"We have to jump!" roared Dwalin.

The third tree was cracking. Its trunk splintered, and wood flew in all directions.

Dwalin hesitated for a second and then bellowed, "Now!"

Ori kept a firm hold of his slingshot as he started making his way to the last tree. His hands scrabbled for something to hold onto, and he found a thick branch. But the moment he put any weight on the branch, it snapped. Ori screamed as he tumbled down. Bombur caught Ori by the waist and pressed Ori to his stomach in a protective embrace.

As the third tree started to come down. The dwarves leapt to the fourth tree, the last tree, the one that overlooked the edge of the cliff. They clung to their branches, gasping for breath. But they did not have long to rest, because the other trees had started to roll down the mountain slope, heading straight for this one.

"Thorin!" I cried, clinging to him and the tree as tightly as I could. "We're going to fall next. I don't want to die like this!"

"We will not die," said Thorin.

I made the mistake of glancing over the edge of the cliff. "It's so high! Thorin, I'm afraid of heights!"

"I know," said Thorin through gritted teeth. "We will not die."

The wargs and orcs watched as the other three trees slammed into the trunk of this one. The trunk groaned and swayed but held its ground as the other three trees slid off the edge of the cliff and fell to the ground below, landing with a sickening crack. I glanced back at the wargs and orcs. Their hateful eyes, little and mean, were fixed on the Company.

"What should we do?" squeaked Ori.

"Oh God." My fingernails were biting into Thorin's arm where I held onto him. "It's so far down..." My teeth were chattering as I spoke. "I don't want to go splat."

"She has lost her mind in fear," said Dori.

I had lost my mind in fear, and my panic started to spread to some of the other dwarves. Kíli kept trying to hug Fíli. Ori looked to be on the verge of crying, while Bofur comforted him. Balin had turned as white as a sheet, and Glóin was throwing chunks of bark at the wargs.

Thorin kept trying to slap some sense into me (not literally, he's too majestic to slap anyone). "Ana, trust me, you are not going to die."

"How can you say that?" My voice was unnaturally high-pitched. "We don't have a lot of options here!"

Only Gandalf managed to keep his head completely straight. He plucked a pinecone from the tree and examined it carefully. Lifting his staff to the pinecone, Gandalf muttered some foreign words under his breath, and then a fire started to burn within the pinecone.

"Thorin," said Gandalf. He tossed the pinecone to Thorin, who let go of me to catch it. I tightened my grip on his waist as I felt the branches sway beneath me. The sudden use of magic startled me out of my panic, and I watched as Gandalf lit a few more pinecones and tossed them to the other dwarves.

"Ouch." Thorin tossed the burning pinecone up into the air. The flames crackled. He caught it again, this time using a piece of fabric to separate his bare hand from the heat of the fire.

"What is that?" I asked, still clinging to Thorin's side.

"A weapon," said Thorin. "Take a pinecone."

With a trembling hand, afraid to let go of him, I plucked a pinecone from the tree. Thorin held his own pinecone against mine, and we watched as the glowing orange flames spread.

"Try not to set our tree on fire," said Thorin.

"You have so little faith in me," I said. My right hand, covered with my sweater sleeve, held the pinecone, and my left hand clung to Thorin's waist with a deathly grip.

"Just, for all our sake's, do not look down," said Thorin.

Needless to say, I looked down.

I dropped the pinecone as I flung my arms around Thorin's neck. "Why is it so far down?"

"The pinecone!" cried Nori, who was in the branch next to us.

Thorin and I watched, horror-struck, as the pinecone tumbled down the tree. It rolled down along the trunk, bounced off a branch, and then struck one of the wargs square on the nose.

The warg howled. It reared backwards, releasing a high-pitched whine.

"That actually worked," I said, disbelieving.

"Ana," said Thorin, "you set the tree on fire."

Arms still around Thorin's neck, I looked down. The pinecone had left a trail of flames were it had touched some of the pine needles.

"Ah, put it out!" I cried.

"How?" asked Thorin.

"I don't know! With your majesty!"

Thorin rolled his eyes. He threw his pinecone at one of the wargs. It struck the warg on the side, and the warg's fur caught fire. The beast shrieked and sprinted away.

The rest of the dwarves started throwing their own pinecones. The volley of flaming pinecones forced the wargs to retreat; however, the pinecones caused the grass and tree branches that lay between us and the orcs to catch fire. A wall of flames formed on the ground at the bae of the tree.

"Quickly," said Thorin. He swung me onto his back again and started to climb down the tree to where the flames had started to spread amongst the pine needles.

"Stop moving!" I cried when I caught sight of the ground below. "Thorin, you're going to be the death of me!"

"We are putting out the fire you started," said Thorin. "You have a responsibility to help." He came to a halt a few feet above the twisting, orange flames and set me down on the branch next to him, careful that I was in a semi-safe position (though one is never safe when one is in a tree). I wrapped my arms around the nearest branch and held on for dear life.

"We must put the fire out," said Thorin. "Or it will be the death of it all."

"You can go ahead and put it out," I said, eyeing the ground below. "I'll just, um, supervise."

Thorin pulled three pouches of water out of his bag and opened them. He handed one to me and poured the other two over the flames. He managed to subdue the on branches beneath him, leaving one branch alight beneath me.

"Good job," I said, clutching my pouch to my chest and refusing to release my safety branch. "A-plus work there."

Thorin looked at me expectantly.

I glanced down at the remaining flames that were starting to spread and then back up at Thorin. He was waiting. With a trembling hand, I moved myself to an upright position and dumped the contents of the pouch onto the branch below. I managed to smother most of the flames, and Thorin stomped out the rest, leaving only charred branches.

"Okay." I wrapped my arms around the branch again and returned to my safety position. "I did my part."

Thorin shook his head. "You…"

"What's that?" I asked.

Through the mountains of fallen trees and the dancing orange flames, I saw the ghostly figure of a pale blue orc stride a white warg. Thorin turned and followed my line of sight. He froze as he caught sight of the orc.

"Azog," said Thorin in disgust.

"Who?"

"My grandfather…" Thorin trailed off.

"Your grandfather…?" I waited for Thorin to fill in the blank, and when he didn't, I said, "Is he like one of those weird family relatives that you don't like to talk about? Because I have those too. There was this uncle…"

"He killed my grandfather," said Thorin.

"Oh…" I gulped. "This is one of those times where I'm supposed be serious."

Thorin nodded.

"Sorry."

"He is hunting me," said Thorin. His back was turned to me so I couldn't see his face. A part of me watched to reach out and force him to face me, so I could understand what he was thinking, but I was in a tree and I was too afraid to move. Instead, I listened as Thorin said, "He is trying to stop our quest. He wants to claim the Lonely Mountain for his own."

I stared at the pale orc and said, "Somehow I don't think he'll appreciate the beauty of the Lonely Mountain."

"No," said Thorin. "No, he would not."

I stared at Azog. He seemed pretty pissed. He could not reach us—a roaring fire stood between his orcs and us. The sun had disappeared over the horizon, and the sky had turned an inky blue. Vibrant flames lit the night, the faces of the dwarves reflecting the orange glow. Heat radiated from the ground up, causing a thin layer of sweat on my skin. The orcs and their wargs paced up and down the mountain slope, while Azog watched us, trying to form a plan.

I watched Thorin. Even if I couldn't see his face, I knew there was something up from the set of his back. He was tense. His left hand formed a tight fist around a tree branch and his right hand brushed against the hilt of his sword.

"Hey, Thorin," I said.

"What now?"

"You are going to do something stupid, aren't you?"

Thorin finally tore his eyes away from Azog to stare at me. "What did you say?"

"You—"

The final tree fell down.