Here's the final interim chapter between Hobbit and LOTR! Next chapter starts the War of the Ring! I hope you're as excited as I am, because things won't go as smoothly as they did before!

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns Tolkien, you own you!

With the quest for Erebor behind you, you find yourself facing a short lifetime before anything of earth-shattering importance happens. It's a period rich with possibilities; the entirety of Middle Earth is at your feet. You're honestly a bit overwhelmed by it all, but you plunge headlong into it.

First and most importantly, you learn to defend yourself with anything ranging from a sword to a large stick. You train hard and refuse to be discouraged. You become more than skilled with your sword, your axe - a wedding gift from Dwalin - and your bow, which Elrond has made for you during your first stint in Rivendell.

Thorin isn't pleased about you returning to Rivendell without him, but he understands how important it is to you to learn about your heritage. Elrond welcomes you gladly and takes you as a student. He teaches you the history Middle Earth, the art of medicine and healing, and how to speak, write, and read both dialects of Elvish. You're thrilled by the latter due to the running joke that you couldn't understand your own language; you can't wait to rub it in Legolas' face when you see him again. You spend a few months at a time in Rivendell before returning to Erebor, because you learned after the first visit that you don't like being apart from Thorin.

Being married to Thorin Oakenshield is nothing short of an adventure. The vast majority of the time, it's an enjoyable adventure. The two of you spend most of your days together and never manage to tire of each other's company. You learn how to run a kingdom through observation and more formal lessons. In return, you teach Thorin diplomacy. He protests, claiming that diplomacy is not in Dwarven nature, but relents when you threaten to take over all of his diplomatic affairs.

The two of you argue sometimes - it's inevitable with any couple - but the spats don't last. You take any tantrums like the rocky shore absorbing crashing waves. Your impassiveness usually wears him down to an apology at the end of each rant. But you're not perfect - you get mad at him, too. The best way you convey your irritation is by only speaking to him in Elvish. Once you carried this on for so long that Thorin asked Tauriel to translate until you switched back to something he could understand. Really, the two of you hardly have the will power to be angry for great lengths.

In the time away from the throne, the two of you relax in your room, on the landing outside the hidden door, or on a small porch near the peak of the mountain. The latter was an addition of your idea, because you wanted to see Dale by night. You mentioned it to Thorin in passing. Two months later, he led you there for a romantic evening. But really, any time the two of you are together is romantic.

It's not just romance, though. Thorin also becomes your best friend. You talk and tease each other and form inside jokes. You trust each other enough to be able to spend time apart; most of your friends are male, and he goes for boys' night out, all without issue. You learn everything there is to know about him. When he asks for your stories, you either alter your past experiences to be more Middle Earth-friendly or fabricate them altogether.

You suppose it's that last detail that is the cause of the nightmares.

They started one night without warning. You saw your parents, your old friends, your old house and school, all through a haunting filter. Someone called your name, your real name, in the distance all the while. You woke in a cold sweat from it, and upon realizing the subject matter of the dream, you ran from the room with tears in your eyes.

You'd settled into this life so flawlessly that the reminder that you didn't truly belong there shook you to the core. You stumbled through the corridors, choking on sobs, until you arrived at a window. The stars in the endless black sky stared you in the face without shame or pity. You cried at them, but you couldn't quite hate them for what they gave you.

The same dream and ones like it return from time to time, and it throws you off for a few days every time you experience them. You've been called Aniel for so long that hearing your old name is like calling up a ghost. You've come to believe that your foreknowledge is truly due to foresight instead of religious watching of a series of movies; remembering that everything you know and love and live came from a book causes a dissonance so strong that it triggers panic attacks.

Thorin is by your side through these sporadic dark times. He supports you faithfully, if bemusedly; you can't tell him the subject matter of the dreams, obviously, and you don't want to discuss them as it is. If he is nearby for a panic attack, he will rock you and sing softly in Khuzdul until you calm down. It never fails to soothe you, but unfortunately he isn't always around. You hate the feelings remembering your old life gives you, so you put it out of your mind as much as you can.

You and Thorin visit the Shire at least once a year. Thorin gets to come along because the visits are always very important diplomatic matters. You'd casually suggested this lens one time, and now the entire Dwarf race is convinced that the Shire is a great nation led by a fearless Halfling. You of course do nothing to change this notion.

You reflect one afternoon as you sit in the shade of the tree atop Bag End that you could not have gotten more lucky with your lot. You are married to the love of your life, and that alone is bliss without the bonus of a luxurious life, many wonderful friends, and good health with which to enjoy it all. You can't help but wonder if it's the universe's way of rewarding you for working so hard to change the course fate. You realize that you'll be at it again soon; the years have passed much too quickly, and time is not known for slowing down.

"What are you thinking about, love?" Thorin asks, settling beside you.

"The future," you respond absently.

"And what do you see?"

You look at him. The face you know so well is largely unchanged by the years; Dwarves have long lifespans as it is, but you may possibly be guilty of using your skill in Elvish medicine to slow his aging further. "I see us, forever," you say with a smile, and it's not necessarily a lie.

Thorin smiles as well. "Anyone could tell you that. What's really on your mind?"

You sigh. "There is a war coming."

"A war? When? Who attacks us?"

"It's not an attack on Erebor. In fact, most of it takes place far from there, for which I am very grateful. No, this war is bigger than that. It is a battle for all of Middle Earth, and I must be part of it."

"Then I will fight by your side."

"You can't."

"I will."

"You can't, Thorin." You take his hands in yours. "It's nothing personal. I'll be away with a small group for most of it. You must stay where you are needed."

"Away? Away for a war? Not without me. I won't allow it."

"Don't be stubborn, darling. I've been training and preparing for ages to make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible. It will only take a year, maybe less."

"An entire year without you? I'll go mad!"

You laugh and lay your head in his lap. "You're already mad."

Thorin strokes your hair. "I could not live if anything happened to you."

"Neither could I. That's why I need you to stay in Erebor where you'll be safe. I'll have everything under control."

"How long until we must be parted?"

"Oh, decades. Just put it out of your mind. It's such a lovely day. We should enjoy it."

The conversation falls to the wind in the trees and the chirping birds. Here with Thorin, it's almost like such a dark time will never come. So you pretend life will always be this and relish the feeling of Thorin's fingers in your hair and the sun on your face, storing the memory away for a time you'll need it.