Fun fact about the author: my favorite name for Lorien is the Ents' name of Laurelindorenan, and I almost named the chapter that, but I figured it would be a little too obscure for some people. Btw I remembered how to spell that since the last time I read the book, which was in 6th grade. I'm too good.

Also! To address a very good question: some lovely reviewer asked if you and Thorin have a child. I actually debated long and hard about whether or not to have y'all have a kid, and I decided on no for the sole reason that it would be bad writing to just mention a kid this late in the game. Could I technically still do it? I have a plan to, so I could, but lbr it's not a huge deal. Fili is still alive and well to succeed Thorin, so the line of Durin is still on the throne. So if within like the next 2 or so chapters I don't introduce a kid, y'all don't have one. Great question friendo!

Also also, YO WHEN THEY GET OUT OF MORIA THAT'S GOTTA BE WHERE AZANULBIZAR HAPPENED! I got excited about that bc I literally only care about Hobbit characters oops

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns Tolkien, you own you!

The fresh air of the mountainside is crisp and cold; the sunlight is glaring but offers little warmth. One by one the hobbits drop, overcome by grief. Gimli must be physically restrained from returning to the mine. You yourself stare soberly at the snow-dusted rocks. You recognize the place despite having never been there: it must be where the Battle of Azanulbizar took place. It is ironic that you would come here now, given the circumstances. Would this place ever be free of the heaviness of death?

"Legolas, get them up," Aragorn says flatly.

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" Boromir exclaims, his own voice thick.

"By nightfall these woods will be crawling with orcs! We must reach the woods of Lothlorien. Come, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, get them up."

You rise and take a deep breath. It won't do for you to be upset, especially since you knew of the fall long before the beginning. You lift Merry and Pippin and hug them tightly. "Dry your faces, now, hobbits," you murmur gently to them. "There's some brave lads. It will be okay."

The pace is quick to break into the treeline before night. There's a subtle shift the further into the woods you go: the air is warmer and sweet-smelling, and a hard-to-place peace takes hold of your thoughts. You may be the only one experiencing this, however, as the hobbits are still upset and the other elders are on guard.

Once Aragorn is sure the orcs will not follow, camp is made and a fire is started. The hobbits go to bed quickly. You're headed that way - you're exhausted from the day's events - but something about the body language of those still sitting around the fire draws you in. You approach them, and though no one had been talking, it's like they'd quickly hushed a conversation.

"Did you know?" Aragorn asks quietly.

You don't need clarification. "I did," you say heavily. "He did, too. I warned him of what would happen. He said it was necessary."

"Was it?"

"Unfortunately." You look seriously at Aragorn. "Do you blame me?"

"No. I know your heart is good."

"I would have saved him if I could. I told him to go over Caradhras - "

Legolas cuts you off gently, "You do not need to explain yourself. You are not at fault."

"I - " You almost say that you feel that way regardless, despite knowing all you do and having given Gandalf other routes, but you're not quite down with spilling your heart to them just yet. Instead you nod once and head to bed.

The sleep is more restorative than expected, perhaps due to the influence of the Lady of the Wood. The daily trek begins through thick, tall trees that are each a work of art. The layer of leaves on the forest floor is soft and springy. The sunlight filters through the canopy, bathing the world in a vaguely golden light. It's the most peaceful the journey has been or will be.

Gimli breaks the silence. "Stay close, young hobbits. They say a sorceress lives in these woods, an Elf-Witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell and are never seen again!"

"Well, Gimli, what must you think of me?" you joke lazily.

Legolas almost smiles as Gimli blinks. "Begging your pardon, my lady," he says, "but this sorceress is not as benevolent as you."

"Benevolent! Ha, that's sweet of you. But the Lady of the Wood means us no harm. You'll see that."

"I would rather not! This is one Dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!"

Cue the welcoming party. You don't even flinch as you nearly walk into the business end of an arrow. You wonder if it's simply Elvish tradition to appear out of nowhere and "greet" strangers with weapons drawn.

Haldir says disdainfully, "The Dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark."

"Haldir of Lorien!" Aragorn bows his head. "We come here for help. We need your protection."

"Aragorn, these woods are perilous. We should go back!" Gimli says tensely.

Haldir says, "You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood. You cannot go back. Come...she is waiting."

You're happy to be escorted by the Elves into Lorien. The scene that meets your eyes as you reach the top of the hill is nothing short of ethereal. The silver-barked Mallorn trees are as thick as skyscrapers and just as tall. They luminesce like stars, complimented by various lanterns. There is a quiet, sourceless singing in the warm air.

Haldir leads the company up and up and up a seemingly endless flight of stairs built around the trunk of a tree. The stairs finally level at a beautiful flat filled with soft silver light. Celeborn and Galadriel descend weightlessly, as if floating. You lower your head out of respect, awe, and a bit of fear.

"Eight there are, yet nine there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him," Celeborn says.

"He has fallen into shadow," Galadriel murmurs. Aragorn's expression confirms her words.

Galadriel continues to speak, but you remember that she's also going through everyone's heads. You hasten to line up your thoughts, to remove all traces of your far past, the past you cannot presently even think of for want of not losing it. You turn to Erebor and let memories of its polished walls and glittering depths and beloved king fill your mind. Thinking of Thorin calms you enough to be almost unaware of her presence.

"You needn't hide," she says, and her voice echoes weirdly in your skull. "I know of your gift...but...that is not what you are trying to conceal."

"It's my past," you confess, still trying not to let the details linger. "You would not believe me if I told you. But it's nothing evil, I swear." You manage to briefly glimpse the faces of your parents without bursting into tears as proof.

"So I see." Galadriel leaves it at that.

"...Tonight you will sleep in peace."

Later, after being treated to dinner, you splash your face with cold water from the fountain. The exchange with Galadriel was exhausting. The mental hoops you had to jump through to remember without remembering were extraordinary. And it had been so long since you'd been able to even think of your parents...

You shake your head firmly and recall instead the evening Thorin proposed. Doing so makes you wonder if he received the letter you sent just before entering Moria; you'd realized that you hadn't written to him since leaving Rivendell, and that he'd likely have the entire Dwarf population out searching for you. You hope it'd been long enough that the raven could even reach Erebor.

"Lady Aniel?"

You look up to see Boromir. "Yes?"

Boromir seems troubled, but is not in a hurry to get to the heart of the matter. "Am I bothering you?"

"Not at all! You can have a seat, if you like."

It turns out that the invitation is exactly what Boromir needs. He sits heavily, his shoulders slumped with invisible burden. "I'd like to ask you, if it would not be amiss to do so, about your visions."

"I'm an open book. Ask anything you like."

He stares at the ground. "The Lady Galadriel, she spoke inside my head of my father and the fall of Gondor. She says there is still hope left even now, and Aragorn seems to share the belief, but I cannot see it myself. Have you seen anything? Is there anything you can tell me of the future of the White City?"

You smile. "As a matter of fact, there is."

He lifts his head almost hopefully - almost.

"Everything I know comes to pass eventually, so take heart: Gondor will endure, and you will see her glory days renewed."

"Could it even be true?" Boromir murmurs.

"It is true! There will be hardship and loss, but Gondor will outlast it all. Hold onto that when your hope is low."

"It sounds like a dream, to good to be real."

"Yes, it does..." You gaze off into the silvery canopy. "There will be peace again one day, but we all must work to achieve it."

"Thank you for your words. It is better news than I ever expected to hear. You are wise beyond your years, Aniel."

"No, I'm just a very lucky girl with motivation beyond the will of the Dark Lord."

Boromir half-smiles. "That's quite a claim. What could such a motivation be? I should like to share its drive."

"Love," you answer simply. "My love is for Thorin. Your love is for your people and your city. Love can make a person do crazy things, but sometimes those crazy things involve saving the world."

You drift off to sleep on your pallet. The slumber is deep and peaceful until a silent voice calls you back to consciousness. There is a figure crouched by your side. Once you register the faint glow and cascades of golden hair, you gasp and sit up. "My lady!" you exclaim, not meeting her eyes. "Is there something you need?"

"Will you walk with me?" Galadriel asks calmly.

"I - yes, of course..."

You tug on your boots and wrap your blanket around your shoulders. Galadriel leads you to the clearing where she has or will meet with Frodo. The two of you sit on the ledge of the fountain.

She begins, "I have heard a great deal about you from Lord Elrond. I am glad to finally see you in person."

"The honor is mine, my lady."

Galadriel smiles softly. "You do not need to be afraid."

"I'm not! I mean, I am, but - I deeply respect you and your power."

"As I respect yours. Your gift is great, young one. One may even go so far as to call it a burden."

"Even when it's useful, it's not easy. I have to look out for hints that a particular event is happening, then decide how to navigate the event, then think about future events and if I may have changed them, and - but you already know what it's like," you realize.

"It is good that you understand that foresight can be changing. As I hear, you ensured that Thorin Oakenshield survived to become king."

You blush and look down.

"Lord Elrond also relayed to me the things to come in this war. That you have chosen to share this information is very telling of your character."

"I just want to help. That's why I came with Frodo. I figured I could spare him and others some less fortunate situations."

"We are with you, Aniel. The White Council will do what we can to aid you."

"Aid me?" You look up at her, confused. "What about Frodo and the rest of the fellowship?"

"It seems you have everyone's best interests at heart, so by giving you all the support we can, it will effect good further than we can reach."

"Oh. Well. No pressure, eh?"

"If it's any consolation, the Ringbearer still has more weight to carry."

"It's...not, really, but thank you for trying."

Galadriel looks down at you. "I would ask only one thing of you."

"Oh, of course, anything."

"I would like to know of your past. You have hidden it from many, I understand."

The cold sweat starts immediately. "I - I can't," you gasp. "My past is the one thing I can't talk about. I can't even think about it. You wouldn't believe me if I told you. I would tell you of all people, but it would ruin everything - it would - "

You curl in on yourself as the past you've blocked off clashes with the reality you've come to know. Humans versus Elves, electricity against torches, reality fighting fantasy. This world is not fantasy, it's real! These people are real, Thorin is real, it all matters -

Galadriel's cool hand touches your shoulder, and immediately the noise in your mind quiets. You gulp in a few deep breaths and choke, "Thank you."

"I did not mean to cause you distress," she says penitently. "The matter is clearly a burden on your heart."

"I've just...tried to forget about it. It's complicated. B-But I'm not hiding it because I'm evil or anything!"

"No, that much is clear. Still, I am sorry. Perhaps a glimpse of your husband will soothe you."

You perk instantly. "Thorin? I can see him? Is he here?"

"Not here, no. But if you look into the mirror, you will see him."

"Oh!" You'd forgotten about the mirror's powers! "Yes, I'd love to, thank you!"

Galadriel fills the silver basin with water. You eagerly look inside. The water ripples and shows Thorin sitting at his desk, reviewing stacks of parchment by candle light. Your heart swells just seeing him.

"Uncle!" Kili bursts in with a letter in hand. "A raven just came with this. I think it's from Aniel."

Just as you had been, Thorin is instantly alert at the sound of his beloved's name. "From Aniel? Let me see!" He rips open the envelope to see your handwriting and murmurs a curse and blessing. "I was about to go look for her myself!"

"Uncle, Mother told you that - er, nothing." Kili stops himself at an annoyed look from Thorin. "I'll just go back outside. Give her my love."

Kili scurries out only to be replaced almost immediately by a nightgown-clad Dis. "Still up, brother?" she yawns.

"A letter just came from Aniel. I haven't heard from her since she left." Thorin squints at the paper.

"Give it here, Thorin," Dis says gently, laying a hand on his arm. "You're tired, and the light is dim. I'll read it to you."

"You would take that risk?" Thorin jokes wanly. You blush, embarrassed that he would insinuate such things to Dis.

Dis ignores him and takes the paper. She begins, "My Dearest Thorin: I'm sorry I haven't written - "

"She should be," he grumbles.

" - but we've been busy traveling. It's been a good run so far. All my new friends are really nice. I'm so glad to have Gimli around. It makes a huge difference having a Dwarf to talk to and relate to. And - I know you don't want to hear about it, but I'm telling you anyway - Legolas is also great now that he's had a major attitude adjustment.

"I'm writing now because we're about to go into Moria - "

"She did what?!"

"Hush, Thorin! ...because we're about to go into Moria. It should be fairly easy since Balin never attempted to reclaim it. I'll look for your letter when we get to Lorien. I'd write more, but there's not much to say.

"I can't wait to be home again with you. I miss you more and more every day. Please be good and stay safe and try not to worry too much. I love you more than any language has words to say. I'll see you as soon as possible. Yours eternally, Aniel."

"Moria!" Thorin rants. "I had no idea we stopped Balin from going just so she could take his place! I cannot believe..."

"Oh Thorin, go to bed," Dis says firmly.

"I have to respond first."

"You can respond in the morning. Aniel would want you to sleep. You know I'm right."

"I am not a child," he growls, but nonetheless snuffs out the candle and heads to bed.

Dis lays the letter on your usual pillow and tactfully leaves the room. Thorin falls asleep with his fingertips on the passage that bears your love. The darkened scene fades back into the silver bottom of the bowl.

You look up, smiling contentedly. You had leaned forward so much that the tip of your nose is wet. Just seeing Thorin being his usual difficult self makes the upheaval of minutes ago seem like it never happened.

Galadriel smiles as well. "Your love for Thorin will change many lives, young one," she says kindly. "Such love spans time and distance and hardship. Go with love, Aniel."

You bow your head. "I will."

It's difficult to leave Lorien after having grown re-accustomed to baths and safety during the night, but the journey must go on. As you wait in line for Galadriel to hand out parting gifts, you finger the leaf clasp of your new cloak, wondering what Thorin would make of its craftsmanship.

Galadriel stops in front of you last of all. "I'm afraid I did not know what to give to you, young one," she says. "Whatever you ask of me, I will do my best to see it done."

You lower your head. In truth, there had been a certain matter on your mind for a very long time. You never thought you'd have the chance to ask anyone about it, but now the chance has been handed right to you. "There is only one thing I would ask," you say quietly, "but it is a very big thing."

"Name it."

"One day, you and Lord Celeborn and Lord Elrond will sail to the Undying Lands. You'll take Bilbo and Frodo with you. My request is to be allowed to come with you."

"That is not such an outlandish request."

"Me and Thorin."

Galadriel's eyebrows raise almost imperceptibly.

"It's just that I cannot live without him," you say desperately. "Dwarves have long lives, but they're not immortal. I am. If I lose him, I'll waste away in heartbreak. But if Thorin cannot come, then I will not go."

Galadriel is silent for a moment. You're almost afraid you've angered or offended her with the request. Finally she says, "Your capacity to love is beyond that of most, young one. If you come back from this quest, and if Thorin consents, you will have a place on that ship."

"*Hanon le, hiril vuin!" you exclaim, bowing almost to the ground. "I won't disappoint you!"

Galadriel finally smiles. "Of that I am sure. I look forward to seeing you again. Have strength, Aniel. Namarie."

You board the boat with Gimli and Legolas, partially for their company and mostly to keep them from killing each other. Slowly the haven of Lorien disappears as the swift waters of the Anduin carry you back into the Wild.

You look back with a twinge of regret. "It was beautiful there," you murmur.

"Aye," Gimli agrees quietly.

You giggle. "Oh, that's right! I'd forgotten you've changed your mind about Lady Galadriel!"

"Indeed I have, my lady. Henceforth I shall call nothing fair lest it be her gift."

You grin at Legolas, who smiles back understandingly. "Well, good," you say. "I'm glad at least one Dwarf has started to branch out."

"Perhaps it is only Elven nobility that is bearable."

"Legolas is prince of Mirkwood," you return smugly.

"Is that a fact?" Gimli looks back at Legolas, surprised. "I would not have known."

"I've been traveling," Legolas says pointedly.

"We've all been traveling, Master Elf."

You laugh loudly at this, and Legolas looks down quickly to hide his amusement. You're thrilled that they're finally starting to get along, even if it is over jokes at the other's light expense. If only Thorin were so amiable, you think with a fond smile, then perhaps you wouldn't have to remind him not to start wars in your absence.

*Translation: Hanon le, hiril vuin - Thank you, beloved lady (Mahal bless arwen udomiel. com tho)

WHAT DO YOU MEAN I SHOVE THORIN IN AT EVERY OPPORTUNITY OF COURSE I DO FIGHT ME

also gimli's massive crush on galadriel gives me life. his line "henceforth i shall call nothing fair..." is from the book as well, and i always did love it. i love this dumb franchise.