PART ONE: ANACHRONISM

Chapter LV: Things Get A Little Fluffy

When I looked up, I saw that we—meaning me, the squishy hobbit beneath me, and thirteen dwarves—were on a mountain slope underneath the silver moon. There was a sort of flat, grassy area that was embedded into the mountainside, the sharp, stone of the mountain forming a wall around three sides, almost like an imitation of a cave, and the overreaching branches of a forest covering the fourth side. The Company was well hidden from any prying eyes.

Behind me, there was an open stone door, little more than a rectangular hole in the side of the mountain. It was the same color and texture as the rest of the rocky slope, and I would not have realized it was a door if it had not been open.

I blinked in the silver light, making out the faces of the dwarves standing over me. It'd been a long time since I'd seen the Company, not since our group hug on Carrock, though I suppose the timeline was different for them.

"Ana," said Bilbo as kindly as he could, "would you be so kind as to get off me?"

"Sorry!" I rolled over, ignoring the pain in my knee and hand as they brushed against the ground. Then, I got to my feet and tried to brush the grass and grime away from my cuts.

Then I did a quick Company check. Bilbo was fine. He had picked himself off the ground and was trying not to be too angry at me for knocking him over like that, though he kept sending me the occasional glare. Fíli and Kíli were fine. They stood just behind Bilbo, looking rather stunned. I don't think they expected me to come out of the passage way. Well, I can't say I blame them. Then there was Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur. All fine. The adventure, it seemed, had done nothing to diminish Bombur's appetite. Bofur was still wearing his floppy hat, and Bifur was still silent. Ori, Nori, and Dori were still the same cheerful bunch. Ori was still wearing his ridiculous cardigan, there was a suspicious bulge around Nori's stomach which meant he'd probably stolen from someone, and Dori had a new knitted hat that was probably from Ori. Óin and Glóin were the same rowdy brothers. They did have a couple of bruises, but for the most part, they seemed fine. My guess was the bruises were from their fights with each other. Balin still looked as grumpy as always. Dwalin was still bald and muscular with an axe strapped across his broad back. They were both fine.

And then there was Thorin. I double-checked to make sure Thorin was okay. He wasn't wearing his usual majestic, fur coat but rather roughly woven travel clothes, and his elven sword Orcrist had been replaced by a man-made sword of inferior craftsmanship. He managed to make even the travel clothes and poorly crafted sword majestic, of course, so I guess that meant Thorin was okay.

"I love you guys," I said. Because, really, what else could I say after seeing the Company for the first time in months?

Dwalin sighed. "I do not wish to listen to this."

"Are we all going to hug one another again?" asked Ori.

"I'm not objecting," I said.

Thorin scowled, and I got the feeling group hugs were not on his list of fun activities.

"Ana," said Balin, "what were you doing inside the Lonely Mountain?"

"I was having a chat with good old Smaug," I said. I shoved my bleeding hand behind my back and smiled at the dwarves. "By the way, Thorin, remember that band opportunity we discussed once? Well, I found you a singing partner. Have you heard Smaug speak? His voice is regal. You two should totally get together a form a band called Majesty With Wings."

"She is speaking in tongues again," said Dori.

"You have not answered the question," said Thorin. "What were you doing inside of the Lonely Mountain?"

"I'll answer your question when you agree to jo—"

"No."

"What?"

"My answer is no."

"B-b-but, Thorin." I put on my best pout. "Your voice is so beautiful. It's a sin for you to keep it all to yourself. Don't be selfish—share your majestic voice with the world."

Thorin glared at me. I glared back. And then, Thorin had to go and ruin it by saying, "You Skipped there, and Smaug discovered you. You lied through your teeth to try to distract him until he tired of you and tried to kill you. Then you accidentally found the secret tunnel and fled through that."

I gawked at him. "What? How did you know all that?"

"I know you," said Thorin simply. "It is what you always do."

"Well, yeah, but still. Damn, you good."

Thorin's mouth twitched up into a half-smile. "Of course, I am."

"So," I said. "Why are you guys standing out here?"

"We were trying to find a way into the mountain," said Ori. "Bilbo figured out the riddle."

I grinned and turned to Bilbo. "Good for you."

The hobbit blushed. "It was nothing, really."

"The map referred to last light of Durin's Day," explained Balin. "Bilbo realized that 'light' refers not to the setting sun but to the moon. The moonlight revealed the keyhole to the secret door."

Bilbo tried to pass this off modestly, but like the dwarves, I was impressed. I was not and have never been a riddle person, so anyone who could decipher word-play was impressive in my book.

I looked around at the Company and then asked, "So what are you guys going to do now?"

"Send the burglar into the mountain," said Thorin.

"Say what?" I looked from Thorin to Bilbo and back. Some part of me knew that Bilbo had been hired as a burglar, but still when compared in size and fighting-prowess, Thorin was clearly a better choice to go against a dragon.

Bilbo swallowed nervously. "Well, it is my job."

"Bilbo, clearly, you have never met Smaug before," I said with a shaky laugh. "You better have some hella good burglar skills up your sleeves."

"Yes," said Thorin. "Because you are an expert on dragons, Ana."

"Excuse me, I've met Smaug three times and have had an actual conversation with him. You've only met him once. I think that makes me more of an expert than you."

"Then what do you propose we do?" asked Thorin in exasperation. I think the other dwarves missed his sarcasm, because Ori, Nori, and Kíli turned to me with eyes of hopeful anticipation. They were practically glowing with excitement.

I shrugged. "I don't know."

The dwarves collapsed, unable to believe my incompetence. Kíli pretended to faint in his brother's arms, while Dwalin rolled his eyes.

"And this is why your advice is often ignored," said Thorin.

"Well," I said, "I can tell you what Smaug told me."

Dwalin's eyes stopped mid-roll, and he stared at me. "What did the dragon say to you?"

I hesitated, debating the pros and cons, but I didn't think repeating anything Smaug said would screw up the future. "He actually knows a lot about you, Thorin. He knows you fought in the War of Dwarves and Orcs, and he knows that you cut off Azog's left hand."

"How does he know such things?" asked Balin.

"Idiots who come to try to kill him an steal his gold." I glanced at the Company. "Smaug is very smart. Like frighteningly smart. And it's frightening because he doesn't act like he's very intelligent, but as you continue talking to him, it dawns on you that he has been studying you the entire time, figuring out your weaknesses and pulling you in…"

I stopped. The dwarves were all staring at me, fear in their eyes. Only Bilbo was look at the dark passage into the heart of the mountain.

"It is all right, Ana," said Bilbo finally. "It is my responsibility to sneak into Erebor. I can handle the dragon."

"Just because you can turn invisible does not mean you're immortal," I snapped.

Bilbo' eyes widened with shock, his right hand instinctively jumping to his jacket pocket. I silently cursed myself and vowed to work on having a better filter in future. The others dwarves were staring at me in confusion. Some of them murmured amongst themselves, trying to figure out what I was taking about.

In the end, Balin stepped forward and asked, "What do you mean? Can Bilbo turn invisible?"

"Invisi-what?" My eyes grew very wide, and I tried to look as innocent and ignorant as I could.

Balin glanced over his shoulder at the other dwarves. Dori and Nori nodded in encouragement, so Balin turned back to me and said, "You just said Bilbo can turn invisible."

"No, I didn't."

The dwarves frowned.

"Yes, you did," said Fíli. "We all heard you."

"I didn't say anything," I said. "That was my split personality, Matilda. She has a wild imagination." Between my plans for a Smaug-Thorin boyband and now this, I have to say my bullshitting abilities were going downhill. I really needed to step up my game in future.

"You do not have a split personality," said Thorin, always the observant one.

"Shut up." I snarled. Then, I gasped, raising a hand to my mouth, and tried to look scandalized. "Thorin, did I just say that?"

"You know very well that you just said that," said Thorin flatly.

Glóin, however, stepped forward and grasped me by the shoulders. "Ana," he said gravely, "you must fight this. Another person is trying to gain control over your body. But you must not let her. You are you, and you can be no one else. Fight it, Ana, fight it with all your might."

I sniffled. "Thank you, Glóin, your beard always was the most magnificent."

"This is idiotic," said Thorin.

Silently, I agreed with him. I probably should have made some excuse about boybands making Bilbo invisible, and it would have been more believable. However, now I was committed, and I just had to rolled with it.

"We will always be here to support you!" cried Kíli, leaping forward.

"Kíli!" I pretended to wipe a tear from the corner of my left eye. "You've just become slightly more majestic."

A wide grin spread across Kíli's face. "Am I more majestic than Uncle Thorin?"

"No, idiot, your hair is a lie. How could you ever be majestic." I bit my lip and shook my head as if horrified. "Matilda, how could you say such things to Kíli?"

"What does she mean?" asked Bombur. "Why is Kíli's hair a lie?"

"Don't say it," I said, trying to cover my mouth with my hand. "Don't say it. Don't say it. Please, Matilda, don't say it." I put my hands on my hips and put on my best maniacal grinned. "Because Kíli used to be blond, but he died his hair because he was having an identity crisis."

Kíli gasped. "Ana, you cannot tell people about that!"

I sniffled and wiped fake tears from my eyes. "I can't help it. Matilda said it."

"Am I the only one who sees the truth?" asked Thorin.

"You used to be blond?" asked Óin, gawking at Kíli. Then, he turned to me and added, "And how does Matilda know this?"

"I know everything," I said, using my best evil Matilda voice.

"I think I should just go…" said Bilbo. He inched towards the entrance of the mountain. No one noticed. "I will see you later. If I survive. Hopefully, the issue of Ana's identity will be resolved."

Other than Thorin and me, the Company was too distracted by my split personality to notice as Bilbo slipped into the mountain, the darkness of the passage consuming him.

There didn't seem to be any reason to keep going with the charade, since the dwarves seemed to have forgotten about the invisible Bilbo thing entirely. However, if the dwarves were going to be waiting on the mountain slope for awhile, waiting for Bilbo to return, I might as well keep going. I was having fun with it. Shaking my head and trying to look sad, I said, "Matilda, don't be cruel." I let out a villainous laugh. "I'll be as cruel as I want to."

"Matilda is not nice," observed Kíli.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," I snapped. Then, I switched back over and gasped, "Matilda!"

"Actually," said Balin, "Ana calls Kíli Captain Obvious all the time."

Oops. I made a mistake on that one. I tried to look sad as said, "Matilda is always with me."

"How have we have no met her before?" asked Balin.

Thorin seemed to have enough of the charade, because he snapped, "Because Matilda does not exist."

"How dare you!" I cried, pointing a finger at Thorin and using Matilda's voice. "How dare you challenge my existence! Who would listen to you, you over-grown rat who thinks he's something special just because someone calls him majestic. Well, you know what, you don't have—" I had to say it. For the sake of keeping my lie, I had to say it. "—an ounce of majesty in you!"

Silence filled the clearing. I don't think anyone dared to breathe. Kíli had turned as white as a sheet, and Fíli's eyes were about to pop out of his head. Ori was gasping, his hands clasped over his mouth. Balin was twirling his beard with his fingers, trying to look anywhere but at Thorin and me. Bombur had fallen backwards from the shock, and Bifur and Bofur were trying to hold him upright. Óin and Glóin were clinging to each other, shaking as though they had just witnessed a murder. Dwalin was clutching his weapon, looking from side to side suspiciously as if afraid Matilda would come to life and attack him. Nori and Dori look as though they might blow away in the wind.

Thorin glared at me, and I—I mean, Matilda glared back. I raised my fist threateningly. Then, all of a sudden, the violence disappeared from my eyes and I looked from left to right.

"Blasphemy!" I cried. "Matilda, you did not just call Thorin un…" My voice failed me for a second. "Unmajestic?" I could barely get the disgusting word through my lips.

"I never thought I would see the day," said Balin.

Dwalin nodded somberly. "The day where Ana would call Thorin unmajestic."

"I must be dreaming," whispered Nori.

"A nightmare," said Dori, "the whole world is out of place."

Thorin rolled his eyes. "You are ridiculous. All of you. Ana is obviously pretending."

Well, no matter what I did, Thorin obviously wasn't buy the charade. I gave up and threw my hands in the air with a cry of "How can you know that? Come on, I even used the word unmajestic! Do you know what kind of dedication that takes? You could have at least pretended to believe me! But no—being the oh-so-majestic Thorin, you just had to point out the lie and ruin all my fun!"

Thorin smirked. At least someone got some fun out of my act.

"The world has returned to normal," said Dori, breathing a sigh of relief. "I never want to hear Ana call Thorin unmajestic again. It is more frightening than facing the spiders in Mirkwood."

"Why did you tell us you had a split personality?" asked Kíli.

"For fun," I said quickly. They had forgotten about invisible Bilbo, and I wanted to keep it that way.

"I thought there was a reason," said Balin, frowning. "Matilda said something that was untrue."

"We are talking about Ana," said Thorin. "There is no explanation for the things she does."

I could have hugged Thorin right then. The dwarves trusted their king's words, and they abandoned their questions. I breathed a sigh of relief. What kind of dreadful things could happen if the One Ring had been revealed to the dwarves? The first time Bilbo had ever told Glóin about the Ring was at the Council of Elrond. None of the dwarves could not about it soon. That wasn't allowed. I didn't know what would go wrong, but I was certain it would be nothing good.

"Where has Bilbo gone?" asked Ori with a frown. He looked left and right, as if he expected the hobbit to be hiding behind one of the rocks. "Has he wandered off again?"

"He has wandered into the mountain," grunted Thorin.

"What?" asked Kíli. "When did that happen?"

"While you were focusing on Matilda." Thorin sent a scathing look in my direction. I tried to smile sweetly at him.

"We should go after him," cried Kíli.

"He is simply doing his job," said Balin. He lowered himself on to a flat rock and took a seat. "There is only one thing we can do. Wait."

The dwarves exchanged nervous glances. Thorin nodded and leaned back against a tree trunk. The dwarves followed his lead and took seats on the grass. Nori proceeded to teach Fíli, Kíli, Glóin, and Ori a gambling game with dice. Óin, Balin, and Dwalin complained to one another in low voices about the quality of weapons they had gotten from Laketown, while Bombur snacked on some bread that Bofur had brought with him (Bofur knew how to take care of his brother). Bifur was working on a toy, whittling the wood with a short knife to make some sort of little bear.

After a moment, I decided to join Thorin. I crossed my arms and leaned against the rough trunk of the same tree, mimicking Thorin's pose. I lifted my chin, trying to copy his majestic, brooding glare.

"What are you doing?" asked Thorin. He didn't sound angry, oddly, just faintly amused.

"Shush," I said, "I'm learning how to be majestic."

A thrush came down from the high branches of the tree and landed on a misshapen stone beside the door to the secret passage way. The little thrush fluttered his wings and pecked at the surface of the gray rock.

"Despite everything," murmured Thorin, "you have not changed."

"Was I meant to have changed?"

"No. It is best you do not change."

I stopped trying to make myself taller, and I turned to stare at Thorin. And I mean really stare at him. He was unusually clean for someone who was constantly on the road. It made sense though, since the Company had been staying in Laketown up until a few days ago and had been permitted baths. His black hair was braided, falling to the shoulders of his woven cloak. His blue eyes were not looking at me, but rather at the far off sunset. The sky was a dark, inky blue, but the western horizon was a bright, neon orange as the evening sun set, turning from yellow to green and then to blue as the sky came closer. And, I have to say, Thorin worked that lighting. He looked damn majestic with dusk in the background.

"I told my parents that I Skip." I don't know what made me say it. But the more I looked at Thorin, the more I felt that ought to tell him. I mean, I told Smaug. And for some reason, I'm not sure why, I felt as though Thorin would understand.

Thorin glanced at me before turning back to the horizon. "How did it go?"

I smiled, relieved that he hadn't acted as though he didn't care. He did that sometimes, even though a part of me knew that he cared. "I told my parents my whole story. About when I first Skipped and met you to the Skipping back and forth at the Battle of Helm's Deep." I paused. "I didn't tell you about that. The Skips malfunctioned or something, and I kept going back and forth between Middle Earth and Ohio. I ended up falling through a window, and eventually I just passed out." I took a deep breath. It was harder than I'd thought it'd be to talk about. "So I couldn't hide it from my parents after that."

"Oh."

That was it. That was all Thorin had to say.

I didn't know what else to do, so I kept on talking. "I didn't tell them everything of course. I tried to keep most of my feelings out of it, and I didn't talk about the cute neighbor, of course. They don't need to know that stuff. But when I had finished my story, my parents weren't surprised. They just nodded. And then, my dad decided to tell me—he's from Bree."

Thorin nodded. His lack of surprise was jarring—apparently my stories didn't shock anyone anymore—but when I thought about it, Thorin was usually pretty good at masking his emotions.

"I'm pissed," I said. "I'm so mad at them. I love them, of course, but God, I'm mad. How could they not tell me? How could they keep this secret? How?"

"I am certain they did what they thought was best," murmured Thorin.

We watched for a second as Dori and Óin scolded Nori for cheating at a dice game. Then, in a low voice, Thorin said, "My father never told me about the secret door."

I glanced at him. I vaguely remembered Gandalf giving him the key, saying that he had gotten it and the map from Thráin.

"One would think," said Thorin, "that after I fought with my father in his war against the orcs of the Misty Mountains, he would trust me. One would think, that after I found our people a home in the Blue Mountains, my father would trust me. When his mind started to falter and his obsession with reclaiming the Lonely Mountain grew, I remained strong. And yet, he left. He left me and my sister in the Blue Mountains without so much as a farewell. He did not trust me, in the end."

"He trusted you to lead your people," I said. "He entrusted the Longbeards of the Blue Mountains to you."

Thorin nodded ever so slightly. "That he did. But in all the hours he talked to me about reclaiming our home, all the times he talked about duty passed from father to son, all the time he talked about our responsibility as kings, he never mentioned the key to the secret door. He only felt I should know when he had no other choice but to pass the key to Gandalf."

I had no idea what to say. I knew nothing about duty and reclaiming homelands. But I felt as though I had to say something, so in the end, I settled for, "It must be strange to you to stand in front of this door now."

"This is what my father and my grandfather wanted," said Thorin. "My father died for this, a chance to reclaim our lost home. It called to him, ik-kurdul aban."

"Is it what you want?" I found myself asking.

It was a silly question, one that I regretted seconds after asking. Of course Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, would want to return home, to reclaim his people's place in this world. But then, I realized that it was taking Thorin longer than expected to respond.

When he noticed my staring, Thorin said, "What I want is my home."

I nodded. "Me too."

We stared up the slopes of the Lonely Mountain. It was a very pretty mountain, made of smooth blue-gray stone and few cliffs. A difficult climb for anyone who was not used to mountain paths. But what was even more beautiful that the mountain, I knew, was what lay beneath.

"Did your father tell you how he came by Ohio if he was from Bree?" asked Thorin, breaking the silence.

I shook my head. "I Skipped before he could tell me his story."

Thorin smiled but it didn't reach his blue eyes. "You would be that unfortunate."

"What are you trying to say?"

"You have ill luck."

"I'm cursed with Skipping."

"It is only a curse if you choose to see it as a curse."

I shook my head. "So does that make you cursed?"

"I am the most fortunate dwarf alive."

Thorin did not look at me. A soft smile appeared as he stared up at the mountain slopes. I'd never seen him smile like that before, and for a second, I was stunned. He wasn't majestic—well, he was, but that wasn't what stunned me. I don't know how to describe it other than to say that he was stunning.

Then, I shook myself out of it, whatever it was. I tilted my head to the side and asked, "Is that sarcasm I detect there?"

"That is for me to know," said Thorin.

"God, I hate it when you do that." I prodded his shoulder and he swatted my hand away like a gnat. I smiled and asked, "Can you just speak outright for once?"

"Never."

"Well, excuse me. I suppose I'm the only honest person."

Thorin snorted. "You pretended to have a split personality named Matilda not too long ago just so you could hide the fact that Bilbo turns invisible."

I froze. It was as though an icy hand had closed over my chest and I found that I couldn't breathe. The feeling lasted only a second. I grabbed hold of Thorin's arm, tugging at his sleeve. "I was kidding. It's a lie. I don't know what you're talking about! Forget it! Please, forget it!"

Thorin caught hold of my wrists and pried me off his arm. "Make a decision. Should I forget what I heard, were you joking, or did I imagine it?"

"All three!"

"Do not fret," said Thorin. "I will keep your secret."

When he released my wrists, I immediately buried my face in my hands and groaned. "I'm an idiot. I keep telling myself not to say anything, and then I go and talk."

"You should work on that."

I opened my mouth to respond, but there was a sharp shout pierced through our conversation I spun around, trying to see who was yelling. The dwarves were looking at one another in confusion, not knowing where the source of the shout had come from.

"Who was that?" asked Balin.

"It came from the mountain," said Fíli.

We all stared at the gaping black passageway. The thrush in the branches of the tree, flapped its wings. There was another shout, this time definitely from the depths of the secret passageway, and then a little hobbit-sized figure stepped out of the doorway onto the mountain slope. He gasped and coughed for a second, his hands resting on his knees.

"Bilbo," cried Bofur, fanning the hobbit, "you are all right!"

"Yes, yes," said Bilbo. He stood upright and produced a single golden cup from the pocket of his jacket. "And I have brought you a prize."

Their concern for the hobbit momentarily forgotten, the dwarves crowded around the cup. Excitement glowed in their eyes as they passed it around, stroking the engravings on the cup and fawning over the wrought gold. I can't say I blamed them. This single gold cup was a piece of their lost homeland, part of their heritage that most of them had only heard of in tales spoken by their elders.

Peering at the cup over Kíli's shoulder, I crossed my arms and nodded. "Not bad, Bilbo, not bad."

"He did better than you," pointed out Nori. "You entered the Lonely Mountain and emerged with nothing."

"I wasn't trying to steal anything," I said stubbornly.

"Do not blame Ana," said Bofur. "She is not an expert burglar."

"Neither is Bilbo," I muttered.

"I am more expert than you," said Bilbo.

"You—"

A deep, rumbling sound echoed around the mountain.

My heart turned to stone. I knew that sound. Oh, I knew that sound far too well. It was embedded in my mind like a brand, a deep roar that sounded as though it was the rhythmical note of song.

A dark shadow fell over the mountain slope. I lifted my head and looked skyward. Through the gaps in the tree branches and in the light of the silver moon, I could see the outline of the red dragon. He was massive, a demon of the night skies. Another deep roar and a burst of light filled the world—rolling red flames.

Smaug had come. And Smaug was not happy.