Part 1: Chapter 19: Prepare As We Will

"You are certain," Thorin asked. Of course she was certain.

And she confirmed it silently, strongly, shaking as she was.

Kâmin zashar. Far worse than any Dragon's threat. Far more important than reclaiming a Homeland. "That Ring was lost to the ages." He put his fist to his mouth and began to pace slowly, too full of shock to think beyond this cannot be true…

"It was found." She curled in upon herself as a chill passed through her, and, gauging her upset amid this grave concern, his urge to embrace her only swelled. But he couldn't touch her. It was agony as well as unwelcome; it was not done.

Fear, despair, helplessness, misery, self blame––all these expressions swept over her face, one by one, each one more distinct and grief-laden than the last.

And then she gasped before an onset of even more tears.

This was untenable. He could not hold the distance.

And what should stop him? Ones, Binumrâl and Dwarven Laws?

Utter nonsense in light of this revelation…

None of it mattered.

The key they needed to rest upon was elsewhere, and right before them all the same. What of friends?

Night birds murmured once more from the trees. Thorin took a quick scan of their periphery, detecting no movement in the darkness. They were alone, safe from surprise of any imminent attack with the Company camped close below, but this threat she spoke of was more grievous than any single kingdom's loss, and for this her anxiety was great.

Friends comfort friends. He crouched toward her and put his hand on her shoulder, as he had oftentimes done with his Sister and her Son's over the long years, even after they were all grown. He kept as much distance between himself and Sona's person as the length of his arm allowed, to be sure she would not confuse his intent.

She calmed beneath his hand, and his heart pounded for the joy of it, through the weight of his first mistake–– She had not told him of the danger before now. He could not blame her, knowing very well why she hadn't. Those first days, when she was overflowing with the need for help, ready to share it with a willing and able ear, he had been hard, uncaring and utterly void of welcome.

All she'd been left with was Tharkûn, and where was the Wizard now?

Why was she here? Why had she followed? She had made friends among them… Bifur, Dwalin, and the others. He'd seen the bonds strengthen through these months together. That might be all the reason she required.

Know I am with you, listening…

He would offer his friendship, so that she might accept his aid, but first…

Thief, let me say this. Let me say it to the end…

"That you did not tell me sooner is my failing."

Her face was a mess of worry, blotched red and thick with tears, as she looked into his eyes.

He held steady. "On our first meeting I was deaf to your concerns, blind to your need to share them, and numb to your request for help. In these ways I taught you not to trust me. For this I am sorry."

Clearly shocked, she made no move to stop him, in spite of the fact he could tell she wanted to–– Her face looked like she'd left her guitar at camp and a pack of trolls were upon them ––Still, she only listened with her mouth partly open. As he spoke he felt her collect herself, and her strength regained. She needed this; she needed him, and so his words lifted his own spirit as well, no matter the dire concerns behind them.

Durin's stars, she listened!

Please keep on… allow me…

"I ask that you believe me now: I hear, I see. You are not alone. This burden is not only yours to bear." He stopped, amazed she had let him speak to the end.

With this he rose to his feet and offered her a hand up. Her cool fingers settled into his palm as she stood with him, and it was almost as if they were back in Imladris––that touch.

He held on, adding a promise. "The Ring must be found. By Mahal, I will help you."

But with those words she shifted. He moved to let go, stung by her turn, knowing why; but he could not release his hold. Her hand hovered cool in his. Her hand.

"And then what?" she asked, her voice laced once more with fright. And something else–– distrust.

With a flash he understood; she thought he wanted it for himself.

He swallowed hard.

"That is for you to decide." And there he released her, one step back, head down.

Her hands followed his as they retreated, just a fraction before closing into a light fist, a small motion one would barely perceive, except for him… his Thief, to take his space so subtly. What did it mean?

Did she want to trust him?

It felt like quashing his heart, to stifle his hopes as he must.

He knew the rest too well. There was no possible way she could trust him, not with this. Not with what she knew of him, of risk–– the madness–– Not to mention the oft-claimed greed of Dwarves… But she had told him so much up to now… why then? It all made no sense.

Perhaps she had slipped, and never meant to tell. This thought ached him deeply.

But then why did she lean toward him still?

Her positioning calmed him on the inside; he did not want to think about why.

She kept her eyes fixed upon his, and here he could not let go. He held still and felt the air about them, the only thing that moved.

"It has to be destroyed," she said.

Now her gaze strayed away and he felt hollow with loss, but at the same time the sense of distrust evaporated from her like warm breath on a chilled morn.

He stayed put, refusing to give in to any of his heart's ridiculous palpitations.

And she retreated into her own thoughts. Thorin was sure this involved remembering, and as her brows creased in frustration, he imagined she sorted through all she knew from the 'books'… Gaps in the knowledge, he could almost see her count them.

Well. She would not take account alone.

"First we need to find it," he said.

We. Yes, we. You will not do this alone, Thief.

He began to walk steps, moving was good… very good for thinking. "Do you recall the Ring's location? Where we might start our search? Who might have it? Anything?" He came before her and looked into her eyes.

She returned his gaze, stunned––ever-so-partly smiling. She welcomed his thoughts!

"You mentioned Gollum?" He asked further, considering the unsavory name. What a name is Gollum? He could put no origin to it. "Would this… Gollum know where it is?"

She breathed out as if she were fevered, her eyes shut. Could she not stand his gaze?

He turned, to spare her. He thought hard; maybe he looked harsh… Dís always said he looked a mighty terror when deep in worrisome plans. So instead he faced the Mountains to their East, where he could glower at will.

And then she began to speak, her voice like a low-tuned windpipe sounding just above a whisper. "History became legend. Legend became myth. And for two and a half thousand years, the Ring passed out of all knowledge. Until, when chance came, the Ring ensnared a new bearer."

Thorin settled into his war stance, studying the Mountains they would pass. Who was the new bearer, after Isuldur lost it with his life in the river?

"The Ring came to the creature Gollum…"

––Gollum––horrid name––how would one come to such as this––?

"…who took it deep into the tunnels under the Misty Mountains…"

Into Khazad dum? Thorin's back tightened. Well then. He breathed deep. The air was fresh. The Mountains stood before them…

"… and there it consumed him."

He thought on that a moment. All sounds of life held still as though all Middle-earth waited. 'The Ring consumed him.' Of course. No Dwarf, this lost being, Gollum. Of course he was consumed. But there they are, the Misty Mountains. We are upon it. All we have to do is reach out, and––

What are we waiting for?

"We begin our search now. I will wake the others."

Sona grasped his arm, reached forward, touching firmly, holding. He was stunned, to see her there, to feel her. He could abide this, but… What was the use of it? Could he not stay the feelings?

"No, wait!" she said with an urgency that rooted his feet to her purpose. She stared back at his person. He could feel the strength of it as he gaped at her hand, still holding him. She was touching him!

But she quickly released as though she were caught stealing.

No no no… but there was no retrieving it… She meant nothing by it.

Take heed, skip the nonsense. "The Misty Mountains stand before us." Thorin pointed open-palmed at the Mountains before them. "Why wait?"

"We can't tell the others… you have to promise me you won't."

Does she know how his Company works? "Why not? We will find it much faster with all of us searching." Did she doubt the others? Surely not. "You can trust them. You know this, yes?"

"Of course I do!" Yet she shook her head. "It's not that. I just… I don't want to expose them––or you for that matter––to this." She put her back to him, arms crossed closed.

Why turn away? You cannot be rid of me now. You have already shared this peril… He held his hand tight, the one that had touched her shoulder before.

"The Ring is evil…"

Aye, beyond measure.

"It has destroyed everyone who has ever come into contact with it," she added as if she begged him, but for the words…

I cannot let it destroy you…

"I can't do that to any of you."

Do? It is not for you to do; it is for me to help.

"Promise me you won't tell them. Please."

How? She wanted him to keep secrets from his Company––she had no idea. But he wanted to bring her peace of mind. "I must tell them something. But I will not name the Ring." He waited to hear if she would object. When she nodded briefly he added the important part. "And I will not let you go alone." No. And you do not realize my Company goes where I lead… but he did not need to tell her that…

Still something about the plan displeased her. "But what about Erebor?"

His Homeland…! This almost stole his breath, her voice upon it. And then she chewed her lip and he, Mahal's Anvil, he wanted to kiss her.

"You can't just set everything aside… the hopes and dreams of your People…"

My People… you care for them so deeply.

"… their very future, just to help me with some crazy Quest for what is the singular most evil object in all of creation."

Kâmin zashar. There would be nothing left for the living but pain. No space for simple joys. No time to know you better.

"You're likely to get yourself killed, and then where will your people be?"

He saw her swallow and shake. What? Surely not for him.

His People would be fine… Dís was strong, she would manage, and Dáin would fill the void until Fíli came to ready. Fíli would lead them well, when need required… "This… singular harness for evil"–– Kâmin zashar–– "It is why I must go with you." He denied any other choice. "It is the greater danger. It must be checked, or no home will be safe from fire, not even the wandering kind." He smiled sadly into her big open eyes; they seemed to reach for him, as if for safety's sake.

"But… but there is still time," she said.

Is there? How can she know, with all that has changed from her 'books'?

She came to him with her hand outstretched, and he stared at it, wistful, but shoved down imagining the feel of it on him. Just as quickly she dropped it, taking a step to the side.

Had she wanted to touch him again? Would his mind never stop twisting over her every move?

"Fifty years at least, if not sixty," she counted, drumming her lips with her fingers, driving him still.

Stop with that…

He turned over her words. That was some time. But he wasn't convinced––did she not say it was found–– on his Quest? But the grocer Master Baggins never came. What if they do not find it now? What will become by waiting?

"Why not retake Erebor first?" she suggested.

But what if…

"Rebuild your strength and reunite the Dwarves. Gandalf said Erebor would be important strategically, and I think he means…" she stalled… thinking… frowning, concentrating, groaning in frustration.

Thorin left her be, long moments spent in thought. But after a time she seemed lost. "The Wizard?" he asked, prompting her back to him. "You think he means… what?"

She blinked as if woken from a sad dream half forgotten. "Uh… just that Erebor is going to be very important."

Things clicked. Thorin knew well the strategic importance of the Lonely Mountain, that it was key to keeping large opposing forces at bay, should a large scale war break out, something he imagined quite probable with this––piece–– being found.

So perhaps there was time to come back and get it later. Perhaps saving the Mountain would be best for all. "Perhaps." But she left something out, something painful.

And he doubted. "But there is risk to leave this to chance, for it to be found by others. Those Mountains are full of Orcs."

She was adamant against this even as he spoke. "Gollum… he––" Again she bit her lip, and he pulled on his own until it hurt, watching her took to the Mountains. "It… won't be found until we look for it."

However uneasy, he accepted her word. "Very well," he told her. She had not said everything. "We restore Erebor first." He stared into her eyes and saw relief within them. "And then we find it."

She nodded down but did not look back. And he wondered. What was he missing?

Deep into some dark worrisome corridors of thinking, she had strayed again.

"Thus agreed," he interrupted her musings once more, bracing for his next request, sure now he had leave after this trust they shared as friends. "I must formally ask: Will you join my Company?"

Her eyes held his, complete, open and delightfully surprised. "Are you sure?"

What a question; it brought a smile to his face and eased his heart. "I would not have otherwise offered."

Then she reached her hand to him, like the time she had done with the pinch-faced Elf at the start of their stay in Imladris. What was it she expected with this gesture? She was about to sag the way she had for the Elf when Thorin put his hand out the same way she held hers, hand facing hers, and waited. She grasped it and firmly clasped on, pulling up and down like she would pump water from a well.

The feel of her hand, that he would not dwell upon, no matter how smooth yet artfully callused, strong and confident it was. He found pleasure in the firmness of her hold. She took him as a friend, he could not ask for more.

Yet still she gave the smile on her face.

And her words. "I accept."

#

They shared a silent walk back to camp, as she had neither comment or questions, and he was not about to add his own, out of deference it may prove unwelcome–– He could tell she was tired of words and in great need of sleep.

And so he used the quiet to think. How had it come from him running from her to inviting her to join them? What was he thinking?

Mahal's Hammer to cares––He liked her and wanted her among them.

And she accepted!

And, in spite of the danger they ran toward, seemingly no matter which way they chose, he could not remember a time he felt this happy.

The camp already took their rest, but for Dwalin and Balin seated close at the fire, quietly signing between themselves so as not to wake the others.

Dwalin rose at the sight of the fear-strained Thief. After she signaled for him to stay put, he retreated back to his seat, signing to Thorin, 'What happened?'

'Not now.' Thorin replied. He wished to continue thinking in peace.

'What'd you do to upset her like that?'

'What makes you think it was me?' Thorin signed, irritation clipping his moves.

Dwalin snorted, shifting closer to the fire.

Sona retired to her bedroll, only to return a moment later, before Thorin had taken a seat. "Thorin."

He shivered at her voice on his name. And he stood tall.

She held out her hands. "Âkmînruk zu." That smile, her breath on the Khuzdûl, his comb in her hand… the hanky in her other…

Dwalin and Balin watching…

"And if you don't mind, I'm going to hang onto your hanky for a bit… I'd like to wash it before I give it back. Unless you don't mind my bogeys smeared all over it…"

Bogeys… that fine word Kíli had adopted back at Imladris…

Thorin laughed, retrieving just the comb from her open hands. "As you wish, Thief."

And then she returned to her bed roll, a huge smile taken over her face.

Had he brought on that smile? How?

And Dwalin stared at Thorin, waiting to hear more.

As did Balin beside him. 'The Khuzdûl from her mouth, it shocks me, Thorin.'

Dwalin signed over his brother, 'who cares about that!' waving off the language pondering, 'the Comb? You loaned her your comb?'

'Aye.'

'Did you tell her she was your One while you were at it?'

'No, Dwalin.'

'Might as well have!'

This was beyond exhausting. 'There were more important things.'

'Care to share those more important things?' Dwalin quipped with his hands.

'What' Balin motioned to add something––

But Thorin overruled them both. 'Not now, no details.'

He could see the Thief in his memory back at the overlook, how she clutched his comb in one hand and his hanky in the other as she explained this great peril, fearful for all the world. These things of his had offered her support, grounding. And he refused to regret the results of his actions.

He did, however, regret he could not confer with Balin.

'You know, laddie, you get more and more reclusive as we go,' Balin quipped, frowning and smiling at the same time that way he did.

'Enough. Let me sleep on it tonight.'

'Aye, but don't think I'll forget,' Dwalin shot the words with hot hands.

'No.' Thorin wouldn't dream of it.

Their hands stilled and the crickets chirped and Thorin let his mind wander aimless and clear in the night until after a while he signed again. 'I asked the Thief to join the Company tonight.'

Dwalin's face went from aggravated to wondrous in one quick blink.

'You asked her?'

'Aye.'

'And so that makes you think it's fair to loan your comb?' Dwalin's lips were curled at the question.

Thorin kept his stone mask set as best he could. 'That was after.'

'After what?'

'… I asked her to join after I loaned the comb.'

Dwalin heaved an exasperated sigh. 'Your Sister would have your hide, being so forward.'

Thorin did not doubt it, but he only shook his head. Who knows. That time was far away, closer to never than anywhere he ever reckoned…

He looked to Balin. 'You will muster a contract. She can see to it in the morning.'

Balin nodded, smiling for more. Both Dwarves looked at him as though they expected more.

He was not about to give it. 'That is all. I need my mind on our Quest.'

'Aye, our Quest,' Balin signed. They both nodded with him, any argument saved for later. 'That should help.'

It should, Thorin thought.

But first… there was the bigger matter. Impossible to think he would leave the Thief alone to a danger such as this. He was sure that was her undisclosed plan… so he made his own, to guard and keep her safe on the perilous path ahead, one they would travel together, baring death.

'Teaching her Khuzdûl. Did you leave your brain behind, laddie?' Balin signed, moving closer to the light of the fire with his flat plate and the contract parchment spread out, quill on top, ink pot to his side, and a splitting grin plastered across his face. 'Never mind it. I'll have a look and jot down the particulars, it'll just take a moment.'

Thorin didn't answer but retired to his bedroll, watching Balin work, happy and focused at once, outlined and warm in the firelight. Thorin looked from Balin to the comb still in his hand. About its teeth some strands of her hair remained entwined. He gathered them carefully, wound them into the tiniest braid, and packed them inside and innermost pocket near his heart. One day he would bind them in crystal, should evil be vanquished and impossible dreams come to pass.

Next morning after breakfast, Thorin and Dwalin headed to the overlook alone, weapons at the ready for their daily movements. Dwalin laughed a bit under his breath, turning a malevolent grin Thorin's way, and modulating his voice as high and light as he could, "Thorin!" The oaf batted his eyes in flirtatious exaggeration. "Your comb! And if you don't mind…"

Thorin smacked him across the back of his head, making Dwalin laugh harder. Both were fairly sore after sparring

/T\oSo/T\oDo/T\

A/N: We're back. We had a lovely time in the Shire, entertained by none other than Mister Bag End himself. Tea was at Four, Bilbo left the door unlocked, and we didn't even need to knock!