Again, I want to thank everyone who is still reading this story and is still hanging in there despite the time between updates. Unfortunately, lack of corporation from my characters and my muse is still giving me some issues (RATHER LARGE ONES). As always comments are appreciated, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: Once again, Harry Potter and his universe were created by the wonderful J.K. Rowling. The Hobbit, and all characters associated with his writing are the work of the brilliant and masterful J.R.R Tolkien.

Everything else belongs to me.

Lila wasn't certain how far they had ridden before Thorin finally called for a halt, but as she slid from her mare's back, mentally berating herself as much as the foreign emotions that clung to her would allow, the mild aches and pains in her legs and backside from the endless going were the least of her worries (…though she would be saying something later about his obvious torture!). In hindsight, it had not only been a serious lapse in judgment casting such an advanced spell in a foreign environment, but also an incredibly dangerous decision if she was being completely honest. Aside from being completely out of her depth when it came to elvish magic and how it worked, Lila hadn't the slightest inkling how her own magic would react in a space created purely from magic, especially with her ability to cast even the simplest spells on the fritz. They were lucky that the spell backfiring hadn't done any real significant damage to either one of them—although it had certainly done enough if the overwhelming amount of panic she could feel was anything to go by.

Her hands clenched the horse's mane as she struggled to take slow and even breaths, painfully aware of the collection of eyes she could feel on her back, though hardly surprised by that fact (…annoyed, yes, but not at all surprised). In the weeks since she had joined the company it had become increasingly apparent that in addition to her own companions, who had taken to watching her every move after their little talk about her foreknowledge of Middle Earth, she had also drawn the unwanted attention of both Gandalf and Thorin, who also seemed bent on keeping a watchful eye on her.

...though for vastly different reason.

Unlike the others, who were admittedly more worried than anything, Gandalf and Thorin's interest in her had very little, if anything, to do with concern and more to do with the fact that one was a meddling old busy body, and the other belonged to a race prone to serious trust issues. While Gandalf was easy enough to handle (he wasn't any worse than Dumbledore and she'd had enough years of experience dealing with the twinkling wizard to know how to handle yet another old coot) Thorin, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter; one that she had very limited experience dealing with, and admittedly a dwindling amount of patience after weeks of his standoffish behaviour.

"Right, I get it, you're irritated," She hissed, having finally realised that she was she was fighting a losing battle attempting to rein in his emotions, and more than a little annoyed that an elf famed for his unwavering self-control was even struggling to keep it together. "and I realise this is confusing, especially if you're feeling what I'm feeling –which I suspect you are –but you're not helping either one of us and you're giving me a bleedin' headache." She briefly let her own pain an irritation seep through whatever connection they appeared to be sharing, hoping he would get the message, and was both unsettled and hysterically amused by the surprise she felt seconds later. "Yeah, that's not fucking weird at all." She muttered under her breath as she pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting the urge to beat her head against the saddle until she either woke up or knocked her self-senseless.

"My dear is everything alright?"

Lila sighed heavily at the old mans 'impeccable' timing, half tempted to ask him what had taken him so long in coming over (...though only half, the other half wanted nothing more than to strangle him with his damnable beard) and pinched the bridge of her nose harder. She knew full well that there wasn't any way she would be able to keep this from him, not when it involved one of the Eldar and the consequences of her actions could have a resounding effect, but she also knew that once she crossed the bridge there would be no going back.

"No, everything is not alright you twinkling old goat, but you already knew that otherwise you wouldn't be over here." She eventually said with a sigh as she turned to face him. "I did something incredibly stupid and as a result I can now feel the emotions of Woodland Realm Barbie." She admitted as she cast a quick muffliato spell, knowing full well that some sort of explanation was necessary.

The look of absolute confusion etched into his aged features was downright comical as he said slowly. "I'm…afraid I do not understand."

I doubt any sane person would, she thought as she fished around in her extendable bag for the feverfew draught, her headache almost unbearable now. Thankfully, Gandalf was about as crazy as it got (incredibly gifted and wise beyond his years, yes, but still utterly barmy) so she was certain it wouldn't be hard for him to grasp once she gave him a few details.

"To make an incredibly long story short," She began, not sure how to condense all that had happened while still giving Gandalf enough information. "Lady Galadriel fiddle about with our heads –which I am not at all happy about– and made it so that whenever we're asleep we're transported to a library of her creation." She held up her hand to forestall his questions, knowing full well that he had many (most of which she wasn't about to answer) and downed the foul-tasting draught in one swallow.

Honestly, as advanced as magic has gotten you'd think they'd be able to make a headache potion that doesn't taste like dog dirt, she thought as she swallowed hard, desperate to keep the potion from coming back up, as being sick all over Gandalf's boots wasn't exactly on her list of things to do today—or ever.

"I don't know why she did it," she managed to wheeze out once she was certain nothing would be coming back up. "she hasn't exactly been around for either of us to ask."

"When did this first occur?" He asked after a brief pause, surprising her by asking a relevant question.

"The night Balin told us about the Battle of Moria." She said as she put the empty vial back into her bag, more than a little relieved that Thranduil appeared to be a lot calmer than he had been a few minutes ago (which was still weird to even think about) and that the potion was already taking affect. "We just had our second meeting." She added as an afterthought, itching mindfully at her head.

"Lila…it has been several weeks since then." He said, concern evident in both his voice and expression.

"There are things that I would rather not remember and sleeping leaves me defenseless against them." She lifted her shoulder and let it fall, not exactly comfortable with his concern or the topic. "So, I don't ever let myself sleep longer than a few minutes at a time."

He nodded, to some extent aware that all of them had endured terrible things during the war and had been left with rather formidable scars as a result; many of which she doubted would ever truly heal.

"Your current state," he eventually said after a moment or two of silence, thankfully dropping the whole sleeping issue, or lack thereof "I am to take it is not the result of Lady Galadriel tampering with your mind?"

"No, that was my doing, unfortunately." She said with a slight wince as she rubbed the back of her neck. "Thranduil asked if there was a way for him to learn our language –pretty sure it's because he didn't like that he couldn't understand me all the time–and like a bloody idiot I performed magic on him." She paused, frowning. "It was going well at first, but then suddenly he was privy to a lot more than I wanted to share with him—and I'm not sure if it was the result of where we were or my own magic buggering it up."

"Your own magic?" He asked at her omission.

She muttered something about noisy old goats under her breath when she noticed the damnable twinkle in his eye, and after fighting a brief urge to kick him in the shins said. "My little run in with the torch wielding villagers wasn't the only reason I started using wandless magic to be honest." The twinkling and her urge to kick him increased. "I had a few simple spells backfire and after almost losing my wand arm thought it would be prudent to use wandless magic for the foreseeable future."

"…and judging by your tone I will wager this is something that started upon your arrival to middle earth?"

She rolled her eyes at his knowing look. "Yes, you old busy body, up until our arrival the only other time I've had any issues with casting spells was during my first and second year of school when I was learning how to cast proper spells."

"I see," He murmured as he absently twisted the end of his beard, the gears turning in his head almost loud enough for her to hear. "This certainly complicates matters."

"That's putting it mildly." She muttered as she pulled her pack from the horse and tossed it close to where the others were "It's a bloody fuckin' train wreck on fire is what it is."

He frowned, obviously only understanding about half of what she'd said and cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I'm afraid any solution to this problem is beyond my capabilities."

"Which is why it's imperative we make it to Rivendell." She said as she dropped the spell. "Now, more than ever." She added with a meaningful look as she grabbed her second pack and headed over to the group. She would have liked to discuss the situation a bit longer, but she knew that if she wanted to avoid any more unwelcome attention or questions from her friends and the king under the mountain, dropping the spell was necessary.

I finally managed to pull this chapter from the depths of where this story is currently being held hostage! I'm not 100% happy with it (it feels a bit rushed in parts) but at least it's up!