Nearly half an hour later, and after Fili and Kili led me around introducing me to everyone, we were interrupted by the sound of wargs. Shit was about to hit the fan. Oh boy.

We all looked up, "Uh, aren't wolves nocturnal?" I asked.

"Wolves? Are there wolves here?" Oh Bilbo. I'd forgotten that hobbits had bad history with wolves.

"That is not a wolf," Bofur put in, and then whirled around as a warg bounded down the hill into the middle of the company.

Thorin killed it quickly, but I was already shooting at the second one, Kili's arrow hitting just after mine and killing it before Thorin turned to it. He nodded to us, then spat angrily, "Warg scouts! Which means an orc pack is not far behind!"

Poor Bilbo looked so confused and scared, I couldn't help but go stand behind him and put a hand on his shoulder while Gandalf and Thorin shouted.

"Stick with me, Master Baggins."

He looked torn between comfort and indignation. Oh well, I tried.

Suddenly, Radagast rushed off on his sledge, and Gandalf ushered us into a mad dash out of the woods and across a plain dotted with large outcroppings of rocks and a sparse few trees. Bilbo did stick close to me, and so did Fili and Kili. We were somewhere near the middle of the pack. Adrenaline kicked in again, and though my ribs weren't complaining too badly now, I knew I'd be paying for the activity later in Rivendell.

We stopped at a particular outcropping, and I remembered the lone warg that caught our scent. There wasn't a good way to do this, but maybe I could reduce the noise by shooting with Kili? Thorin nodded at both of us anyways, so I stepped out with him, making sure not to snatch at the string even though my shot was rushed. It worked, and I was relieved to find that the elven bow wasn't too heavy a draw for me. It was even heavier than Kili's as a longbow rather than recurve, but with some training I would get used to it. For now, I could definitely manage a few shots before it threw off my aim.

With me shooting the orc, and Kili shooting the warg, we did make less noise. Unfortunately, less noise is not no noise, and the rest of the pack heard us anyway. Fortunately, the whole event happened a little quicker, so we got running again a little quicker. I was positively buzzing with adrenaline now, and it was difficult not to completely outpace the company as we ran. I was taller and lighter after all, and spent a lot of my spare time running. I kept close to Kili, figuring he would be a decent enough pacer, and when Bilbo tried to hang back, I pushed him on to follow Gandalf into the hidden pass.

More quickly than I expected, we were closing ranks by the pass, Thorin yelling for Kili and I to shoot the oncoming wargs. It was the most frightening thing I'd ever done, and my whole body felt like an electric wire, ears buzzing and fingertips totally numb. On autopilot, I drew and shot, drew and shot. Some shots were better than others, but the wargs and orcs blurred into targets and my aim improved as I fell into a well-practiced rhythm. Then Kili grabbed my arm and started dragging me towards the pass, and I realized Thorin was calling out for us.

As soon as we were safe in the pass, sharp pain stabbed through my ribs. I gritted my teeth and leaned against the wall, eyes squeezed shut and chin tucked into my chest. Shit! Cracked ribs were no joke. It never really occurred to me before, but cracked ribs were a bit of a misnomer; cracked meant fractured, fractured meant broken, and dammit broken bones hurt.

There was a bit of a commotion, then everyone was shuffling and bumping each other into the passage. Each time someone brushed up against me, I bit back a gasp. Until one person, instead of bumping into me, put his hand on the rock and leaned almost over me, letting the other dwarves bump into him instead. Only two dwarves were that close to my height, and one was leading the way. I cracked open my eyes and gave Thorin a wan smile.

He didn't say anything, just nodded and waited until the other dwarves were past, then gestured for me to go ahead. His expression was tight, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, but I knew it was because he suspected where Gandalf was leading us, not because he was mad at me. I nodded back. He probably didn't want to talk right now.

Imladris was beyond beautiful. Magical didn't even begin to describe it. Totally ethereal and elegant, the buildings blended seamlessly with the stone and waterfalls. It looked like paradise. I could suddenly understand a lot better why the dwarves felt so out of place here. It was serene and calm, where the dwarves were rough and passionate. Even I felt uncomfortable, unworthy and clumsy, and that was without having even seen an elf yet. It didn't seem Bilbo had any such qualms. He was absolutely enraptured, and I couldn't help but smile at the way his eyes lit up and the stress fell away from his expression in layers.

Then we had to actually hike down into the valley, and damn if I didn't feel like my ribs were trying to kill me though. I stuck to the back, taking it as slow as I could without being too obvious. It's not like anyone could do anything to make it better, so there was no point in whining. By the time we made it to the entrance courtyard thingy, my vision was going a little funny, and it took all my concentration to breath and walk at the same time. Standing still was a blessing. Sadly enough, since all my concentration was elsewhere, I didn't have the wherewithal to remember that dwarves were suspicious asses and formed ranks when Elrond arrived. This meant I got violently yanked into the middle of the circle with Bilbo, his forehead met my ribs, and I promptly fainted.

This time did go more like previous experiences, as far as waking up within a few seconds with a violent rush of nausea. My momentary lapse of consciousness didn't go unnoticed, and my pained gasping through trying not to puke was accompanied by a cacophony of hooves on stone and concerned voices. The clatter of hooves stopped, thank god, and the voices got louder briefly before subsiding almost completely. That was about when my vision swam back into focus, and the odd mix of Gandalf, Thorin, Elrond, and Bilbo all hovering over me worriedly almost made me laugh. Instead, I just sort of groaned and blushed crimson. Great impression Ar, way to impress the bad-ass dwarves and ancient elf warrior lord dude.

"What ails her?" Lord Elrond asked.

"She told us she fell off a small cliff, hitting her head and cracking some ribs."

No one ever said Thorin wasn't blunt.

"She has undergone quite the shock as well, finding herself in a completely strange land and faced with many creatures and peoples she thought only myth and legend," Gandalf added thoughtfully.

That's about when I regained my voice, "Uhg, I'm so sorry, y'all. I'm fine, I promise."

Yeah, yeah, empty promises. Whatever. I had to try and regain some of my dignity.

"You fainted," Thorin deadpanned.

"Really?" I tried to look innocent, "Nah, I just had a momentary lapse of consciousness."

He didn't look amused, but Elrond smiled and Gandalf chuckled. Bilbo just sort of looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Oh Bilbo.

"Come," Elrond shook his head, "Fainting or no, we must see your wounds are tended to."

Thorin looked unhappy, but didn't even try to protest. Wow. Dude was either worried enough to admit elven healing was necessary, or didn't care at all. Judging by the fact that he then commenced to actually pick me up, I was going with the first option. Damn, didn't realize Thorin was way softer than either the movie or the book portrayed. The King under the Mountain with a heart of gold and a soft spot for dimensionally lost women. I should probably tell him the truth about that one.

"Thanks," I said softly, putting one arm around his neck, "I think it might actually hurt less to walk, though."

It was true, as nice as the gesture was, carrying me was putting an odd pressure on my ribs that made the ache climb into my throat in a massively uncomfortable way. Or maybe I was just getting choked up. Who knows.

He nodded, and lowered my feet to the ground (holy freaking fudgesicles he was strong. I mean, I had to weigh like, a hundred and sixty pounds, and he was tossing me around like a feather). He didn't let go of me though, and insisted on escorting me to the healing halls. Honestly, I think he was doing it to avoid making nice with Elrond. I wasn't dying, so Lindir escorted us to the healing halls where I could be seen to in comfort by a female healer while Elrond tended to his guests. Minus their leader. Who was hiding in the healing halls with me. I stifled a giggle.

I swear to god Thorin nearly pouted when he wasn't even allowed into the room, the healer all but grabbing me from him and shooing him off to be escorted to where the rest of the dwarves were getting cleaned up by Lindir. Neither looked very happy to be alone together. I didn't bother stifling my giggle.

"What amuses you, my lady?"

Oh damn, even elvish voices were otherworldly. She sounded like a freaking angel.

"Oh, just thinking neither Lindir or Thorin looked too thrilled about being left alone with each other."

She smiled a little bit, but didn't seem too amused. Oh well. Her loss.

"I'm Aria by the way, thanks for helping me out."

"Insiloth. It is my pleasure to aid you in your healing, Lady Aria. Please, there is a fresh bath drawn for you."

She led me through a curtained archway into another room, and I nearly drooled at the sight of the big stone tub full of water that was gently steaming. Now this, this was paradise. My eagerness to get in the bath did amuse the elf-lady, but only until it resulted in a lot of wincing and groaning as my ribs disagreed. I almost cried in frustration when I couldn't get my pants off. Here was this perfect elf-angel, and I was gonna have to ask for help stripping out of my filthy pants.

Something told me she was used to this though, because before I could ask she was gently batting my hands away and working the ruined garments over my hips. Once that was doen, they dropped easily to the ground. My sports bra wasn't so easy, but I didn't let her cut it off. I was gonna need that thing until I made it home. Middle-Earth didn't strike me as the kind of place that would have decent boob support. We did manage to get it off eventually, with much wriggling and concerned murmurs from Insiloth.

Finally, I could get in the bath. She said the healing oils in the water would soothe my bruises (something about the sheer number of them made her go off in elvish for nearly a full minute), and she even promised it wouldn't sting on my open cuts. Magic. I actually moaned when I finally sank into the water. Submerged all the way up to my nose with my head tilted back, everything that hurt immediately went a bit numb and started tingling, and my muscles felt like they were actually melting. It was a bit overwhelming, but in the best way. I nearly lost consciousness again, and Insiloth had to cradle my head so I didn't sink all the way under and drown. Drowning would put a bit of a wrench in the healing process.

Mentally, I was totally gone. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't have the power to do anything for myself as she carefully bathed me, paying special attention to the knotted mess of my short hair. She sang softly in elvish the whole time, it felt like the song rooted in my hurts and soothed them. By the time the water began to cool, I was asleep, and barely woke up enough to feel her pick me up and lay me on the bed, on top of a fluffy towel. I fell asleep again, missing her drying my off and applying salves and bandages before wrapping me in a robe and tucking me under the covers. I woke briefly to hear what sounded way too deep to be an elf's voice asking her something, before slipping away again. I mean, I'd gotten like three hours of sleep in the last two days. That, plus all the excitement and my injuries? My poor body noped right out. I slept so deeply, I didn't even dream.