Chapter three: Home is behind.

Thorin was not having a particularly good day and, while it was not even close to the worst day of his life, it did make the top fifty worst, at least. They had ridden all day, stopping near a collapsing farm house once night fell. He was tired, not that he'd ever show it, and angry that Gandalf had wanted to move on. The little valley they had started to settle into had seemed as safe as any other place along the road, until his nephews had lost the horses that is. If they had come to him first, they might have solved their troll problem a little easier, but of course the pair had weaseled Bilbo into attempting a rescue mission. Trolls were not something to take lightly, but they had risked the hobbit's life so easily. He was furious when he found Kili trying to convince the three behemoths to let Bilbo go. Kili was too reckless; he didn't understand that he was not invincible. Thorin should not have let him come with them on their journey. The hobbit, too, should not have come. The trolls had scooped him up like a child. Had the dwarves not laid down their arms, Bilbo would have been dead meat, literally. Then they were all trussed up like some common animal, about to be slaughtered for a troll's supper. It was horrifying and undignified. Thorin was furious at the whole situation.

Now the girl had been thrust into their group like some sort of ill-omened sprite. When the troll had snatched her up to be eaten first, along with Bombur, Thorin's stomach dropped. He didn't even know her name, but he felt guilty he could do nothing to help her. Women were seldom found amongst dwarves. Male dwarves outnumbered the females of their race by five to one. Those kind of odds meant dwarrowdams were to be protected, treasured. With this mindset instilled into Thorin since childhood, he hated to see any female injured, regardless of race. As a king, it was his duty to protect those that could not fend for themselves and, in Thorin's mind, women were placed into that category.

The dwarves had been mightily thankful when Gandalf had arrived in the nick of time, something the wizard excelled at, to rescue them from the trolls. Thorin was relieved that they would not be killed so unjustly and without honor, but now another burden was forced upon him. What were they to do with the strangely dressed girl hanging upside-down, trapped within a death grip? Would they commission another stranger into their retinue? Would she be another burden foisted onto Thorin? She could be trouble. She could be a spy or she could have people looking for her, endangering the secrecy of their quest if they found her with Thorin and his company. She was an uncertainty, so of course Gandalf had to free her from the troll's stone hand. Also, she was apparently in possession of a mysterious object. What did that have to do with anything, he had wondered, but Gandalf must have had a reason for mentioning it.

When the girl, Gemma Halvard she'd called herself, had run off into the trees, Thorin had been confident then that she was a spy. For whom he did not know, but why else would she flee? He had only felt mildly guilty for judging her so harshly when he saw it was merely her belongings she was after, but he was unhappy at the time she spent searching for her things. It was when she had pointed towards a stone near his feet that Thorin finally became invested in the girl's goal. The thing on the ground had not looked familiar. As a dwarf and as someone who had dwelt inside of mountains his whole life, he was well versed in geology. He had probably seen every type of rock, stone, gem, or crystal Middle Earth had to offer at some point in his long life, but the object the girl had pointed to did not look like any sort he had ever seen. It was a dull white, almost like quartz, except for the purple veins that spread throughout the stone. It wasn't terribly large, a bit bigger than his fist perhaps, and it was spherical and smooth as if someone had polished it lovingly for years. Quartz was not easily manipulated, not into some so round; it had a tendency to fragment and break off. No, Thorin could not say what kind of earthen matter it was.

That is until the strange, disheveled girl held the gem within her hands. It was almost as if the thing transformed before his eyes. It instantly began to glow a bright blueish purple and Thorin knew immediately what it was. He swore, "By Mahal, it's the Arkenstone." He'd last seen it falling from his grandfather's fingers when Smaug, that cursed worm, had seized Erebor, had stolen everything of worth that was held within. Thorin was stunned. This girl, who was she truly? How had she come by the Arkenstone? He sank to his knees beside her, unperturbed by the mud soaking into his trousers. It had fallen to him to find it. His father had left him the key to the mountain so that Thorin might one day reclaim Erebor, to take back the Arkenstone, uniting all dwarves under the line of Durin, the line of his ancestors, once more. Thorin had wished for the Arkenstone for over a hundred years, had dreamt of obtaining the jewel countless times, and suddenly this random woman falls into his lap, as if presenting it to him on a silver platter. She held it close to her heart and all Thorin could do was stare at it. Then she had looked at him, her gaze drawing his upwards. He was shocked to see the same distinct glow of the Arkenstone lingering in her bright eyes. Surely they had not been that way before, he would have noticed something so otherworldly. What matter of being was this person in front of him? Just who was Gemma Halvard?

"Very strange indeed," Gandalf said.

Gemma wiped away the tears that had escaped her eyes at the thought of her father. As strange as the stone and its weird glowing tendencies, it was more familiar to her than anything else in this distinctly foreign place. Even the tree and plants surrounding her did not look like any she could name. It set her off balance. She tried to ignore her surroundings as best she could. When she reached home, she could forget all about this hostile place along with its giant hungry trolls.

The glaring man had kneeled beside her after she picked up the Ulunsuti. He could feel him staring at her stone so she looked at him, prepared to give him another fierce glare of her own, but when she saw his face, Gemma hesitated. He looked at the stone as if he was seeing water for the first time after spending months in a desert, as if seeing his salvation in the palm of her hands. She had never seen such earnest hope in someone's face before. It would not have surprised her had the bearded man burst into song or tears with such relief and joy shining through his piercing blue eyes. Gemma felt her frustration at her situation ebb a bit. She was still confused and concerned, certainly, yet she could not feel complete anger at the lack of this man's manners like she had before she saw his wondrous expression.

Gemma sat there, watching him watch her when the small, childlike man spoke up again, "Gandalf, what's going on?" And though Gandalf had many suspicions, he replied, "I am uncertain, my friend." He took his hand from Gemma's shoulder, leaving her a bit bereft. His hand had steadied her, calmed her when the stone began to glow once she picked it up. She wanted to worry about that, the glowing stone; she wanted a lot of things at the moment. She wanted to know where she was, who these men were, how she had gotten to this strange place, what the state of her sanity was, and most of all she wanted to sleep. She still did not trust Gandalf completely, but his comforting hand had been nice. He was less of a stranger to her than the rest of the armed men at least.

The short man with the white, curling beard stepped tentatively closer to her. "Lass, where did you get that?" At his words another man, this one bald, with tattoos on his head and hulking muscles, strode up from the back of the group, bending down to grab Gemma by the front of her shirt. He lifted her up from her kneeling position until she could barely touch the ground with the tip of her toes. She dropped the stone and latched onto the arms holding her. His grip pulled her shirt taut. She let out a sharp cry of pain. Bruises from where the troll had snatched her up ached and her joints protested the rush of movement. The man's face was too close to hers and she tried to push him away. "Where did you get the stone?!" he yelled at her, spittle flying from his lips onto her face. She turned her face away in fear and disgust. The white-bearded man said, "Brother, put the girl down!" But the muscled man just shook her violently, her head snapping backward.

The blue-eyed man remained on his knees, looking down; his eyes had followed the stone when it left her grip, although he had yet to pick it up himself. When Gemma whimpered in pain, his eyes snapped up to see her struggling to free herself. "Dwalin!" he bellowed, "Release the girl." The big man did so and she fell to the ground. Gemma scrambled backwards, away from him. She was breathing hard, terrified. She was more afraid of the muscled man with a giant hammer strapped to his back than of the trolls that had been five times her size.

The short man with the white beard pushed his brother out of the way, putting himself between Gemma and the hulking figure. At his movement, Gemma scooting further until her back hit a tree and she sat there, her eyes flickering to the man on the ground next to the stone then to the muscled man and then to the white-bearded man. She felt dizzy, quickly becoming light-headed. She realized she was breathing too fast and tried to slow her breaths, but she was just so scared. She had nothing to defend herself with, she was outnumbered by these men and their weapons by far.

Thorin saw the girl hyperventilating and shaking, her back against a tree. "Stand down," he commanded and all of the men took several steps backward, away from Gemma. Thorin stood up slowly, seeing the girl watch his movements like a cornered mouse watched a hawk. The small childlike man wrinkled his nose then bent down to pick up the stone. "Bilbo, I wouldn't—," Gandalf tried to warn him, but Bilbo did not hesitate at Gandalf's words now that the stone had stopped glowing. Bilbo was curious to see if it would glow when he himself held it. He picked the crystal up; it felt cold and abnormally heavy in his hands. It remained a dull white and though it didn't hurt him, per say, it made him feel very small, very insignificant, like a blanket of gloomy shadows had covered his thoughts. He felt sure he would never see his precious armchair or anything in his beautiful hobbit hole again. "I do not like it," Bilbo said. "I do not like this feeling at all," and he held it out, willing Thorin to take it from him

Thorin took the stone from Bilbo. It was cold in his hands, too, and it still did not shine with its purple glow, but he didn't feel small or sad. He did not really feel much of anything from the stone. He felt no different than when he had stood there watching Bilbo hold it. It no longer looked like the Arkenstone, but he was sure that it must be the King's Jewel. When the girl had held it, it looked exactly like the gem that had rested above his grandfather's throne for years. If it was not the Arkenstone, then it was at least connected to it somehow. He had many questions for this Gemma Halvard, but he decided to wait for her to regain her senses first.

Thorin looked at Gandalf, who had been watching the interaction between Thorin and the dormant stone, and asked, "Where did you go may I ask?"

"To look ahead," Gandalf replied gruffly.

"What brought you back?"

The wizard smirked, "Looking behind."

At this Thorin nodded. "And when did you come across her?" Thorin pointed at the girl still huddled against the tree.

The wizard shifted his grip on his staff. "Not far from here. She was asleep in a field, the Arkenstone clutched in her hands," Gandalf paused and, looking at Gemma, continued, "Thorin, she is important. The Valar act in strange ways. We must have found her for a reason." Gandalf looked back towards the pit where one of the troll's stone head could be seen peeking out over the trees. "Trolls are a nasty business. Still, they're all in one piece."

Thorin's brow furrowed, "No thanks to your burglar."

Gandalf turned his head towards Bilbo, who had started towards the poor, shaken girl. "He had the sense to play for time, he and the girl. None of the rest of you thought of that."

Thorin held Gandalf's gaze, unabashed, "They must have come down from the Ettenmoors. Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?"

"Not for an age," Gandalf shook his head, concerned, "not since a darker power ruled these lands." A sense of foreboding came over Thorin and Gandalf went on to say, "They could not have moved in daylight."

"There must be a cave nearby, but first," he nodded his head towards Gemma, "we need to find out what she knows."

"Agreed."

While Thorin and Gandalf were consulting about the trolls, Bilbo had walked towards Gemma. He thought it was awfully rude and uncalled for the way Dwalin had treated her. She had not done anything untoward. She had even helped them with the trolls a little. Perhaps she had even saved Bombur from being eaten; that should be commended at the very least. He did not know why the dwarves were so fascinated with the gem she had held, even if it did look very pretty and worth quite a fortune. Either way, it was not a worthy excuse to have handled the poor girl so roughly.

Gemma watched the small man approach her. He couldn't have been taller than three feet and he wore a red velvet cloak that looked well made, but very dirty. His hair was a curly brown and his mouth was downturned. She didn't get the sense that he would hurt her, but Gemma was certain that out of all of these strange people she could take him down should he try.

"Are you alright, miss?" he asked.

Gemma sniffed, still quite afraid of the rest of the short men, but sensed that this even smaller man might be an ally. "Not really, no."

"I would offer you a handkerchief if I had one, but I left home without it. The call of adventure will do that to you I suppose," he remarked with a thoughtful tone, putting his hands in his tiny pockets. He gave her a friendly smile.

Gemma did not know what to say to that so Bilbo went on, "My name is Bilbo Baggins. You said your name was Miss Halvard, correct?"

Gemma seemed to come back to herself a little. "Bilbo Baggins?" She blinked twice. "Bilbo?"

The hobbit wrinkled his nose like a little rabbit, "Umm, yes?"

Gemma stood up now, pulling herself up with the tree behind her. "Bilbo, the hobbit? The one who found the ring?" Her voice was rising in pitch, sounding incredulous, "THE ring? And then gave it to Frodo?"

"The what?" Bilbo asked, "To who?"

"Wait. Wait." She held out a hand as if to stop him, from what Bilbo was unsure.

"No. Nu-uh." Gemma shook her head in protest, but of what Bilbo didn't know.

"And Gandalf. He's a wizard. That fucking wizard." Poor confused Bilbo was taken aback by her language. He'd been forced to listen to uncouth words from the company during the last month, but was surprised to hear such things from a lady.

Gemma put a hand on her forehead, "Where am I?"

One of the small men that had not been with the group when they followed Gemma jogged up to them men, stopping Gemma's mad rant, and said loudly, "Thorin! We've found a troll-hoard!"

"Thorin?" Gemma repeated loudly and the man that had glared at her earlier, the one with the blue eyes, turned towards her, one eyebrow raised in question. "You're Thorin?" she squeaked. He nodded once, slowly. "You're Thorin." Gemma pointed at the smallest man, "He's Bilbo Baggins? From the Shire?" Bilbo tensed. He had not told her about the Shire. "And he's Gandalf the Grey. A wizard." She paused. They whole group was watching her now. She counted them. There was thirteen hairy men, or were they men? She looked at Bilbo, pointing to the bearded men, "And they're dwarves?"

Bilbo nodded, more confused now. Could she not tell that they were dwarves? Bilbo had thought it was pretty obvious.

Ok, thirteen dwarves, ugh, of course it would be thirteen. Stupid odd numbers, she thought. And there was Bilbo and Gandalf.

"You said that was the Arkenstone?" She pointed at the gem in Thorin's hand.

"Yes." Thorin said, bemused.

Gemma swore loudly and the dwarf that had found the troll-hoard chuckled at her. It was Kili, the one who'd introduced himself before. She blinked for several moments, none of them saying anything, as if giving her time to sort herself out.

Gemma knew now. She knew with utter certainty. Her mother, her dear book-obsessed mother, had read The Hobbit to Gemma when she was a child. The story was coming back to her in frantic flashes of memory. There was a hobbit and some dwarves and THE dwarf and a helpful wizard. There had been elves and goblins and a dragon and trolls, three trolls. "Trolls!" she shouted. Bilbo jumped, startled at her sudden outburst. Gemma began to pace, her feet walking to the group of men then back to the tree. She was no longer afraid. She was having an epiphany. "Oh my word. Trolls. Three trolls! Those trolls and Bilbo…and I. Oh no. Oh no. I'm right at the beginning. We're right at the beginning."

Gemma stopped, whirling around to Thorin to point at him, "You. You—I…I know how this ends. Oh sweet baby Jesus. Oh holy fuck. This can't be real. This isn't happening."

Gandalf, who'd been observing Gemma's meltdown with a thoughtful glint in his eye, said, "I assure you, Miss Halvard. This is very real. Now, why don't we—"

"No!" yelled Gemma. "No. Gandalf, you don't understand. I know. I know. You're Mithrandir, the wandering wizard. One of five meant to guard Middle Earth or something. Five!" Bilbo jumped again and Gemma muttered, "Why does it always have to be an odd number?"

She focused on Gandalf again, "There's you, and Saruman, and… Oh whoa, he—wait, that hasn't happened yet. Ok, you have a ring, I don't remember what it's called, but it has fire powers or something. Does it start with an 'n' or a 'v,' I can't recall precisely." Gandalf's shoulders stiffened and he drew himself up. "See?" said Gemma. "Don't you get it? I'm not supposed to be here! This isn't supposed to happen."

Gandalf peered into her eyes. "What exactly do you know?"

Gemma shuddered and looked at Thorin sadly. "Everything," she told him. "I know everything."

Gandalf looked at Thorin who shrugged. Thorin thought the girl might be a little unhinged, but Gandalf looked at him worriedly.

"Well, maybe not everything. The details are kind of rusty, but I remember the big stuff, like at the end, with the drago—"

"That is quite enough," Gandalf stopped her suddenly. Gemma took a deep breath. Maybe she'd gone too far. Knowing one's destiny is dangerous; many stories had taught her that. She could ruin everything. Or she could fix everything…She bit her lip. How much should she tell them? Could she tell them anything? She might make things worse. And yet, she might make things better. Or maybe nothing would change, she might not make it very far in this world before she could make a difference. Middle Earth was a dangerous place. She'd already been kidnapped, almost eaten by trolls, and she was pretty sure the overly-muscled dwarf could kill her easily. She tried to sneak at glance of him out of the corner of her eye. Which dwarf was he? Bifur, Bofur? Sneezy, Dopey? Grumpy, she decided, definitely Grumpy. She let out a small laugh. Why was she even concerning herself with any of it? She should go home. Gandalf was a wizard, the real McCoy. He had magic. He could send her home. Honestly, what couldn't he do? Should she ask him for something else before she left? This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, but what does one actually ask for from a wizard? She didn't need a brain, or a heart, or courage. She laughed again. I've a feeling I'm not in Kansas anymore, Toto, she thought, but it would be so much easier if I was.

Gandalf was unsure how to proceed. Thorin ceased to stare at Gemma and had walked over to Kili, who had retrieved Thorin's weapons for him. Thorin was still holding the Arkenstone. Only when Gemma laughed at herself did Thorin look her way with a strange look on his face. The rest of the dwarves had taken to conversing amongst themselves; some pointing at Gemma and arguing, others just watching them argue while they smoked from long pipes. Bilbo was standing next to Gandalf, waiting to see what the wizard would do.

"Gandalf," Gemma started softly. The dwarves were getting rather loud with their argument so Gandalf stepped closer to hear her better. "Do you know how to…would you be able t-to bring someone back from the dead?" Gemma's voice was very small now and she fiddled with her thumb. She went on, "I don't know anything about magic, not real magic, but if you can, will you bring my father back?"

Gandalf tilted his head and noticed that, without the stone her eyes were a gentle green. He looked at her almost pityingly so she hurriedly continued, "He's only been dead a few days," her voice broke, "so that should make it easier, right?"

Gandalf bent down so that his gaze was level with hers. "My dear, only the Valar can send someone back to Arda after they have reached the Hall of Mandos. If it is the will of the Valar, you will see your father again, but not in this realm." Gandalf put his hand on Gemma's shoulder and she let out a shaky breath. "I am sorry, little one," and Gandalf truly was remorseful. It was not the first time he saw the cruel echo of pain left by mortality.

"Will you send me home then?" Gemma asked.

"That, I think, will be possible. Most doors open from both sides. Let us hope you did not fall out of a window," Gandalf told her mystically.

"So that's a yes, then?"

"You should be able to return the same way you left. What brought you to Middle Earth, Gemma Halvard? For I know you are not of this world."

Gemma hesitated to answer. It must have been the stone that had transported her here, but the Ulunsuti was not supposed to be real. She could only handle so many realizations today. Middle Earth was a real place, or at least real right now? How did this work? If The Hobbit was real, did that make her father's Cherokee legends real? Or her mother's Norse mythology? When did it end? How was she to make heads or tails out of the plethora of stories in her brain?

"I think it might have been the Ulunsuti," Gemma finally replied. "That's really the only logical explanation I have, unless an illogical answer is required and I really hope that is not the case. That's too close much like some Lewis Carroll crap for me."

"Ulun what?" Bilbo enquired. He had been hovering near the two, not really eavesdropping, but his hearing was quite good.

"U-lun-su-ti," said Gemma drawing out the syllables. "It's the stone I brought with me, or rather, maybe it brought me with it."

"I thought Thorin had called it the Arkenstone," Bilbo inquired, gearing the implied question towards Gandalf.

Gandalf glanced at Thorin, who had now joined in with the arguing group, before telling both Gemma and Bilbo, "And I'm very near certain it is the Arkenstone, but there is something strange at work here. It is different from what I knew."

"It can't be the Arkenstone, Gandalf. It is from my world. The Arkenstone is in Ereb—well, where it should be, in your world," Gemma told him, still unsure about how much to say concerning her knowledge of Middle Earth.

"Yes. It is now. Who knows where it has been since the fall of Thror."

Gemma huffed. It was not the Arkenstone. If it was anything, it was the Ulunsuti. It was her father's stone and her father was Cherokee, not King under the Mountain. Therefore, it was a magical Indian stone, not a magical Dwarven stone.

"I really don't care. It's mine, regardless of what you say it is, and, if you're right, I need it to get home."

"ENOUGH," Thorin said loudly to the arguing dwarves, his volume breaking up Gemma's and Gandalf's conversation.

"Thorin, she is a danger to our quest," the overly muscled dwarf protested.

"Dwalin, she knows too much. That is why she must come with us," inserted the white-bearded dwarf, reasoning with his brother.

Thorin told his men, "We take her with us. My word is final,"

Gemma gaped at his words. No one had consulted her about this. She needed to get home before all the other bad stuff happened. She didn't fancy being around for orcs or whatever came next in this tale. "I don't think so," Gemma said, walking over to the group. "I'm going home."

Thorin was about to tell her otherwise when she demanded, "Give me the stone, please." And, to Thorin's and everyone else's surprise, he did. It was in Gemma's hand before Thorin had realized he had even moved his own hand. Gemma, too, was taken aback. She didn't think it would be that easy. "Thank y—" But Thorin had taken the stone back out of her still outstretched hand before she could finish. He did not know why he'd given it to the girl, but it was his birthright. He would not let some woman leave for home with it in her possession like some bauble she'd bought in a market.

Gemma's eye twitched, "Give it back." And he did! Thorin had willed his hand to stay still, gripping it tightly, but as soon as she finished her request, he felt compelled to obey her, at least in this. Gemma looked at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Jump three times," she told him.

Thorin scoffed. "No," he said, remaining still and Gemma pouted. Apparently the stone did not have any fun magical powers, just stupid powers that sent her to places she had no business traveling to.

"Please," Thorin growled, "give me the Arkenstone."

"No," Gemma said smugly.

"Nori, take it from her," and, before Gemma could protest, a dwarf with brown hair in the shape of half a star swooped from behind her and took it from her hand.

"Hey!" she protested. "Give it back." And Nori did, much to his own befuddlement.

Dwalin then tried to grab the stone without so much as a by-your-leave, but Gemma caught on quickly and moved out of his way. "I don't think so," she told him and held the stone close to her heart with both hands.

"I think the stone is where it wants to be," Gandalf told them, sounding almost amused.

"She cannot take the Arkenstone with her," Thorin said outraged, rebuking the wizard.

"Gemma will travel with us until she learns how to open the door to her world using Arkenstone. Is that acceptable?" He pointed the question to both Thorin and Gemma. Thorin seemed to think for a moment and Gemma asked Gandalf, her voice desperate, "You mean you don't know how I can make it take me back?"

"I'm sorry to say that I don't," but Gandalf was lying; he was not sorry. He thought that Gemma and her knowledge might very well come in handy during their journey. If nothing else, she could play keep-away with the stone and it would amuse him all the way to Erebor. "I might know someone who does though."

A/N: Much love to all the people who reviewed, followed, and favorite my story. It really keeps me motivated and encouraged.

Like I said in my Author's Note from Ch. 1, the Ulunsuti is a legit Cherokee legend. Google it; it's pretty rad. Gemma references Snow White with Sneezy, Dopey, and Grumpy, and Wizard of Oz with the whole asking wizards for a brain, or a heart, or courage thing and when she says she's not in Kansas anymore. I don't own either of those stories. Lewis Carroll wrote Alice in Wonderland, which I also don't own. I do not think that it's crap, but Gemma thinks it's insane British drivel. All mistakes and typos are definitely mine, so if you spot them let me know!

Thanks for reading my fellow Hobbit fans!