Hello everyone! A big thank you for staying with me this far. A quick note, songs in this chapter are the Misty Mountain song, and the Song of Durin by Eurielle.

I do not own anything except my OCs; all rights go to Tolkien and Peter Jackson.


The sun has long sunk behind the valley wall by the time Bilbo finds me curled up into a ball at the foot of the waterfall, a broken and huddled mess. I don't respond to him as he calls out my name. It is only when he says, "The Company has been all over the place looking for you. None of them are too happy, especially Thorin," that I raise my head to stare at him with bloodshot eyes.

Bilbo gasps, and hurries over to help me into a sitting position. He frets over me, taking in my puffy face and rumpled clothing. "Miss Aspen pardon my intrusion, but do you mind me asking what happened?" Not having the energy to respond in anything more than a whisper, I say, "My family's gone Master Bilbo. I've lost them forever."

A few more tears leak out of my eyes, but I thoroughly cried myself to exhaustion earlier. "Oh…" Bilbo's voice trails off, clearly not knowing what to say. Or knowing too well that saying anything else would be too painful.

"Well let's get you back." Bilbo does exactly that, and bears the weight I put on him with surprising ease for one so small. We slowly make our way back to the main building where the Company's staying. When we reach the common room, the Company is all there, having given up the search while Bilbo was out looking for me. After one look they start clamoring for answers, crowding around me. Only when Thorin barks to give me space do they back off, still glancing my way as they spread out.

Bilbo helps me to my room and deposits me on my bed, and I curl up on my side facing the wall as Oin and Thorin barge in, Fili, Ori, and Bombur lingering outside the door. Oin questions after my health and feels my forehead, leaving when he's satisfied I'm not sick or dying. Then Thorin begins his own questioning.

"I would have you tell me what's wrong," he murmurs.

"I've lost my family Thorin." I roll my head to look him in the eye. "I won't ever see them again."

Thorin's face is a rush of emotions before settling on a softness I've never seen before. In a gesture of uncommon gentleness, he rests his hand on my shoulder while offering me a sympathetic look.

"You have my sympathy Aspen." He gets a faraway look in his eyes as he says, "Grief and pain take a long time to heal, this I know. Take the time that you need." With these last words, he climbs to his feet and exits, shutting the door firmly behind him.

More tears spill down my cheeks, but it's only a few minutes before I thankfully pass into a deep, dreamless sleep.

In the morning I seriously contemplate whether to get out of bed or not. It's only when my hunger is unbearable that I pry open my eyes and shuffle off to the kitchens. I steal some bread and butter, going out to the gardens.

The dwarves don't care for the gardens. If I get lost, they won't think to come look for me here. I'll be alone.

For a while, the pressure squeezing my lungs, my throat, and my heart eases. I'm able to breathe normally, and contemplate the softness of the flower petals I touch, or the sound of rivers running by.

I eventually make my way back to the waterfall Bilbo found me at yesterday. Apparently Bilbo is a snitch, because Bombur is there waiting for me. The dwarf looks up at me and offers me a tin of cookies when I reach his side. Choosing not to ask where they came from, I take the tin.

"Thorin told you? About yesterday?" He nods, and I wait for him to speak.

Bombur takes his time, as he usually does, finger-combing through his beard and working in oil with great care. But his words are well worth the wait. The dwarf is unusual in that he chooses his words with care and tact, and for that I am grateful.

"The Company is all very sorry for your loss." He's quiet for another minute, then asks, "You know Bifur raised us right?" At my nod, he continues. "Bofur and I lost our parents when we were very young, but not so young as to not know what happened. There was a fire in one of the mines. A coal mine, deep in the mountain. They were both there when it started. Some dwarves were able to escape, others…" he trails off, lost in remembrance.

"Bofur was in charge of me that day, and it was only when Bifur came to our door and not our parents that he realized what was going on. I figured it out a little later, after we went to live with Bifur.

"I never left my room. Bofur tried to run away a couple of times, back to our old house, though he never got far before Bifur caught him." Another pause. "We didn't smile for a long time."

Several minutes pass before he speaks again. "It took months to control the fire. And years before Thorin and the others finally got it out." He sniffs, voice cracking. "All that was left was ash."

Bombur offers a one-arm hug, and I tuck myself into his side, resting my head on his shoulder. "Would you like to talk about them?" he asks. I think for a moment. The tight pressure that disappeared a while ago has returned.

"Not yet. But thank you for being willing to share about yours."

"Anything for you Aspen. Can you keep a secret?" "Sure." "First do you swear to not to tell anyone? Not even Bofur or Bifur?"

A bittersweet smile tugs at my lips. "I swear it on my mother's gumbo."

Bombur snorts. "I ran away too. I got farther than Bofur. And I was never caught." I give him a look out of the corner of my eyes. He huffs. "What, is that so hard to believe?" "No. Just can't believe you went back."

I stare ahead at the little brook directly in front of me, gardens and buildings in the middle distance. And beyond that, the valley wall. I feel trapped here with my pain. "A beautiful prison," I mutter. "What's that?" Bombur asks? "Nothing. A random thought."

"You know, I would suggest talking to Thorin or one of his nephews. Or Ori," Bombur says. "Why?" I ask, startled. What would the younger dwarves know of grief?

Bombur must read the question in my eyes. "They might understand more than you think. I would give it a try. And Aspen," he says as I stand to leave. "Don't be afraid to cry."

"One thing I've never been afraid of is crying my dear Bombur." But I don't do it often.

I hole back up in the library, looking for any information on people who suddenly appeared in this world in times of great need or danger. People like me.

There's nothing, or at least, nothing I can read. I'll have to go to Elrond for more information. But I'm not ready to do that yet. Not ready to sit in that comfy room and face those sad eyes, and ask for information on people who were stuck here forever.

I skip dinner and head straight to my room, lying on my bed and facing the wall. Someone knocks a couple of times, but after a while it's blessedly silent. I lie awake all night and spend the next day alternately crying, sleeping, or staring at the wall because I'm too tired to do either. People knock at various times, but always leave.

Until one person, who has the audacity to knock and enter.

"What?" I snap. "Sorry. Do you want me to come back?"

I peek over my shoulder and see Ori standing there with a tray, a cautious look on his face. Immediately remorse floods me. Great. I can now add "snapped at Ori" to my list of accomplishments.

"I'm sorry Ori. Please come and shut the door." He does so, and places the tray on the nightstand. "You need to eat Aspen," he says nervously, fidgeting with his sleeves. "Aye, I know."

Ori watches as I take a few bites of some rice mixed with broth. "How are the others?" I ask. Ori looks startled. "Fine. Most of them are resting or practicing; usually a mix of both." I give him a wry look. "How is Thorin?"

Ori flushes. "Also fine." "He's not standing outside this door and snooping is he?" "No. But he would like to speak with you soon." I grunt, continuing to eat my rice. Ori fidgets again, then reaches into his sleeve and pulls out a folded piece of paper. He tucks it on my nightstand, then practically scurries out of the room. I can hear him speaking with someone outside, probably Thorin.

There's a soft knock, and then to my surprise Fili enters. He scrutinizes me for a minute, and I find it frustrating that I can't read him.

"May I come in?" I shrug. "You're already here so you might as well."

He seats himself at the table and studies me a bit more.

"You scared Ori."

I sigh. "I know. I apologized." He eyes me. "I don't think he understood you. He came out and looked like he wanted to cry."

"I'll make myself clear when I next see him." "I think you should do it now," he says. "Why?" "Your apology will be sincere, rather than an afterthought."

"You know I need rest. A friend would leave me alone." "Wrong. A friend would hold his other friends accountable for poor actions. Don't misplace your feelings on innocent people." His gaze holds mine in a challenge.

"Okay." I haul myself to the door and peek out. Ori is nowhere to be found, and I don't know which room is his. "He's not out here," I call back to Fili. "Then I shall help you find him," he replies.

Fili ushers me out the door, but I balk. "I look horrible." He shrugs. "No worse than you did while we were travelling."

I should slap him for that comment, but decide I don't care. As we walk towards the library, I ask, "Are you upset that we came here?" "Not really. I don't like elves, but I recognize the necessity of our visit."

"What is it with dwarves and elves? You guys hate each other." Fili looks at me incredulously. "You should know after all your talk with Thorin. They have wronged us time and again." "Not Elrond." "It doesn't matter," he dismisses. "All elves are the same."

I think for a moment. "Fili, I want you to name a nasty dwarf. A dwarf whose beard deserves to be shaved." Fili lists a few, and I ask, "Do dwarves deserve to be judged by those few?" "Of course not," he scoffs.

I stop, staring at him. "Then why do elves deserve to be judged by the few bad ones?" "They're elves Aspen! They're deceitful! They don't keep promises. You can't trust them."

My eyes fill with tears again. The back of my throat burns as I jab my finger in his face. "They are trustworthy; you just refuse to see it. I'm too tired to talk about this now, but we will come back to it. Mark my words, we're not done with this conversation." I storm away, Fili chasing after me.

"Aspen wait! I'm sorry!" "Sorry for what?" I sniff. "Sorry you made me upset, or sorry because you don't like elves?" Fili opens his mouth, then closes it.

"Come on," I gesture. But he doesn't move.

"Both." "You're just saying that." "I'm not. Uncle and Balin never told us why to hate elves, only that we should. Maybe there was something about a necklace a long time ago. I don't know; I don't remember. So I never questioned it. And now you are, and it makes me wonder why."

"Good for you. But if you want to convince me, you're going to have to actually work on getting rid of your grudges and hatred, not just think about it." I swipe the tears away from my face and step away, but Fili catches my hand.

"What do I do to make you believe me?" "I just told you! Work against your hate!" "Calm down," Fili holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "I know you said that, but I don't know how. I think we should talk about it more, when you're feeling better."

"Fine. I know you're a dwarf and it's not easy for y'all to change, but promise me you'll seriously think about it at least." Fili thumps his chest and bows. "On Mahal's Beard. It will take time, and I may not be perfect, but I will try."

"I'm sorry I yelled at you." "I'm sorry I upset you. Really," he gives a small grin, one I can't quite make myself return. "Let's go apologize to Ori now."

We find Ori in the library, scanning some old documents written in Khuzdul. He looks up when we sit nearby. "I was scanning some things to see if they could help us when we get to the mountain. So far there isn't a whole lot of information."

"Ori," I interject. He looks up, caution again in his eyes. "I wanted to apologize for earlier. I'm sorry I was rude to you. You didn't deserve that and it's no way to treat a friend." "It was nothing." "No, it was something. Something bad. And I'm sorry for it."

He pauses for a minute. "Well, I accept your apology. Thank you." He smiles, and it looks a lot more confident than it has in a long time.

"Can you show Fili and me what you've been working on? Maybe Fili can help with translating some documents?"

We spend the next hour or so in this manner, and Fili and Ori often slip into Khuzdul to discuss certain points. I leave them to take a bath and then find dinner.

The bath feels amazing, especially because I haven't taken one in a few days. I go to the dining balcony with wet hair and make a plate to take back to my room with me. I'm still not in the mood for company. As I'm getting ready to leave, I hear approaching voices speaking Sindarin, and from down another hallway I make out two tall forms.

Not waiting to find out if it's Elrohir and Elladan, I beat a hasty retreat to the company room. To my surprise Thorin is there, probably hiding from people like I am. I join him at the table by the balcony and we eat in silence, each lost in our own thoughts.

After he finishes eating, he goes to his room and returns with a travel size harp. Briefly he tunes it, and begins to pluck away at the strings. He plays different melodies, some bright and cheerful, some slow and more somber, but through all of them he weaves something that speaks of hope and endurance. The music does nothing to ease the burning and pressure in my throat, in some ways making it worse. I'm about to leave when I hear him hum something somber and deep.

Softly begins to sing.

"Far over the Misty Mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day
To seek the pale enchanted gold.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells,
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

For

ancient king and elvish lord
There many a
gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.
On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, on twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun.

Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day,
To claim our long-forgotten gold."

On he goes, until at last he finishes the song and looks at me out of the corner of his eye. I nod politely. "This is the first time I've heard you sing." "You must not have heard me back at Bag End." "No, I was talking with Gandalf I think."

"Would you like to hear another?" "Aye I would." He begins another about Durin, and I listen intently, entranced at Thorin's deep, rich voice. I think back to the times I sang for him. I don't know if I'll ever do that again.

Thorin stops. Brought quickly back to the present, I find him staring expectedly at me.

"Yes?" "You need to tell the others where you are really from."

I blink. This is not what I expected him to say. "Why?" "It's time they know. We cannot keep them in the dark any longer. And Bofur has not stopped asking me about it since we left the Shire."

I snort. The real reason always comes through. I watch as he crosses to the far side of the room and speaks briefly to someone inside. Dwalin emerges and exits the main room, probably off to find the others.

When I look at Thorin, he just says, "Wait." So I finish my food as one by one, the dwarves slowly start to trickle in. Finally, they're all here, waiting with varying degrees of expectation or impatience in their faces.

Thorin turns to me.

"It's time."

I wish I didn't have to tell the dwarves now. But Thorin's right; it's time they know. Half of them probably suspect something's up anyway, and none of them deserve me only giving half-truths.

Deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Begin.

"I believe many of you have suspected for a while that I am not telling you my full story, and have kept part of it hidden. Well, you would be correct. And before you get mad you should know there is a good reason I did not tell you. One, it would not have been safe for me. And two, it wouldn't have been safe for you." I stare at Dwalin, who shuts his mouth. At least for now.

"I'm not from Middle Earth. Where I come from this world is fiction, and so are y'all. You are characters that people read about, but you're not supposed to be flesh and blood.

"The last thing I remember of my world is going home from my university to see my family. I took a train because it's a pretty cheap option and at least sometimes you have Wi-Fi. We were going under a tunnel, and I blacked out. When I woke up I was in the middle of a forest with no idea of how I got there."

"What is Wi-Fi?" Ori asks, ever curious. And on it goes, with me telling bits of my story, and the dwarves interjecting with questions or asking me to please repeat what I just said. I tell them about how Thorin and I worked out our employment agreement and why. Perhaps most importantly, I tell them I have limited knowledge of the future, but cannot share with anyone except Gandalf and Thorin.

When I finish I take a good look at the group. All are in various stages of thought, some more upset than others. Kili smiles a little, and I can only imagine what's running through his head. I look over at Oin. His eyes are closed and his hands are folded across his lap. I wonder if he even bothered listening.

Balin finally breaks the silence. "You've given us a lot to think about lass. But I'm sure we can all agree that you are still a valuable member of our team." Dwalin snorts. "Speak for yourself brother." He jabs a finger at me. "I knew there was something up with her the minute she walked into Bilbo's hole. And she's always had Thorin's ear, influencing his decisions. I only went along with it because Thorin agreed she should come. What if she deliberately leads us down the wrong path? Sabotages our quest?"

Thorin makes a noise of disagreement, and I see in his eyes that he's unhappy with Dwalin's words. But he says nothing as the others start to argue, for me or against me I cannot tell. I sit for several minutes, emotions crawling up my throat, before I leave. I can't stand listening to them argue any longer.

Tears prick my eyes. I've already lost my family. I don't want to lose them too.