Chapter Six: Taking a breather
In all honestly, Gemma was a little tired of people kneeling at her feet at the sight of the Ulunsuti. Perhaps though, the exhaustion and stress from dealing with trolls, orcs, wargs, and running far longer than she'd ever had to might be influencing her level of tolerance for anything, let alone an elf kneeling on the ground.
Elrond certainly did not strike her as the type of being to linger in the dirt, but he did not seem inclined to rise to his feet anytime soon and Gemma was tempted to sit down with him to take the weight off of her ankle. She stared as him as he stared at the stone, both of them never seeing something so foreign before. Elrond had long dark hair with little twists and braids on both sides of his head. A bronze crown sat across his forehead, drawing to a downwards point in the middle of his forehead. He wore beautiful red armor that looked well-crafted, but not all comfortable to kneel in. He had long lines around his mouth, making him look a little weary and very wise. His jaw was strong, but Gemma decided his eyebrows were his defining feature. They seemed to change with every expression that crossed his face. At the moment, they were furrowing in consternation for Elrond had never seen anything like the stone nor felt anything similar to the magic he sensed within it, except for in a few very powerful items that remained guarded by very powerful beings. To Gemma, Elrond definitely seemed awed by the stone, but his expression was nowhere near the look of wonder and reverence Thorin had shone towards what he thought was the Arkenstone.
Gandalf stood beside them, waiting for Elrond to finish his analysis of the stone. Finally, Elrond seemed to make up his mind about something before reaching out for Gemma's hand. He took one of her fingers and brushed it across the surface of the stone. It glowed hesitantly at her touch, as if it wasn't sure what to do. He turned Gemma's hand over, placing the stone in her palm. The stone glowed confidently as did her eyes.
Elrond stood up, one hand on his chin while he watched Gemma stand there, her hand outstretched with the stone. "I am not sure what to make of this, but you were right to come here," he told them. "When Thror ruled Erebor, I saw the Arkenstone where it sat above his throne. One does not forget such a gem just as I will not forget you, Gemma Halvard."
Gemma was unsure how to respond to that. She wanted to be flattered, but the ominous tone in Elrond's voice made her stomach twist anxiously. It sounded like remembering her would not bode well for anyone and she thought about Elrond's gift as foresight. She swallowed thickly. "I am not from this place, from Middle Earth, sir," she began and Elrond nodded knowingly. "Gandalf thought—well, I thought, too, that you would know how I can get home...," her voice faltered.
Elrond looked at Gandalf, one eyebrow raised. Gandalf still refused to say anything and Gemma grew frustrated with him again. They would send her home, right? If they knew how, surely they would not want her to remain in Middle Earth. She knew too much; she'd told Gandalf as much, but she was beginning to wonder if her first feeling towards the wizard had been correct. It seemed like days ago, but when she'd first woken up in a completely different world, she'd not trusted Gandalf. Maybe there was a reason to still feel that distrust. "Lord Elrond, sir, where I come from there are many tales about the—uhmm—future happenings of Middle Earth. It would behoove everyone if I was sent home. What I know…it could be very dangerous. You must understand this."
Elrond raised both eyebrows at her statement. "Who else knows of you?" he asked her.
"Just the dwarves, and you and Gandalf. Oh, and of course, Bilbo."
Elrond nodded once more and Gandalf finally spoke, "So you're sure it's the Arkenstone?"
"Quite sure, although it is strange that it has taken on such," he paused, looking at Gemma and her purple eyes, "qualities." Gemma was tired of riddles and she was tired of conniving wizards. She stuffed the stone into her duffel bag and her eyes went back to the gentle green they were meant to be.
"You're wrong," Gemma argued firmly. "It is not, cannot be, the Arkenstone. My father was given the Ulunsuti by his father. My grandfather was given the stone by his father and so on. It has been in the care of by my family for centuries."
"And no one has seen the Arkenstone for centuries. Maybe it is not the Ulunsuti or the Arkenstone, but both," Gandalf inserted. Gemma shook her head in frustration.
"What is an Ulunsuti?" Elrond asked her. Gemma told him the legend of the Uhktena and of how the Ulunsuti had fallen from its forehead. The elf and wizard discussed the stone and of how Gandalf had come upon Gemma. There was mention of doors and magic and dragons, but Gemma was swaying on her feet. Most of what they said was in elvish and the rest Gemma could not focus on long enough to even get the gist of their conversation.
"If the stone opened a door to bring her here, perhaps it opened a door to bring itself to Gemma's world many years ago," Gandalf reasoned.
"The stone itself might be the door," Elrond responded. He rubbed his forehead, thinking about many possibilities. Elrond needed more information so he turned to Gemma. Her eyes were glazed over and she looked minutes from dropping to the floor in exhaustion. Elrond smiled gently, saying, "I will try my best to send you back to your home, Gemma Halvard. I need to consult my library and perhaps confer with another on the subject."
Gemma broke out of her stupor once she heard her name and was about to protest the last part of his statement, but he went on to say, "In the meantime, you're welcome to stay here." A female elf with long black hair walked up to stand by Elrond, bowing her head slightly. "Annúnel will show you where you can bathe and rest."
When she heard this, all other thoughts were completely consumed with fantasies of warm, clean water and soft, fluffy beds. The lady gestured at Gemma to follow her and she walked off in the direction Lindir had taken the dwarves. Gemma did not hesitate to follow the elf, leaving Elrond and Gandalf behind. When she turned away from the pair, Gandalf gave Elrond a pointed glare.
…
The lady walked quickly, leading her down the path, and Gemma struggled to keep up with her. She could tell without having to look that her ankle was very swollen and it still throbbed painfully. The lady turned around, hearing Gemma's hobbled steps. "Are you injured?" she asked Gemma with a concerned look on her face. Annúnel was really quite beautiful as Gemma was starting to suspect all elves would be. It was not a beauty that Gemma would be envious of, although she certainly felt plain next to her in comparison, but one that Gemma found comforting in an odd way. It made her feel safe, somehow, as if her surroundings, the elven lady included, were pure and untouched by the ugliness in the world. "I twisted my ankle pretty badly," Gemma replied.
The elf's face took on a pitying look and stepped close to Gemma, taking her arm. "Here, lean on me," she told Gemma in a melodious voice. The elf's skin was cool and soft against her hand and Gemma blushed at her weakness, her mortality. "Thanks," Gemma mumbled.
"Would you like me to take you to dine with your companions?"
Gemma considered her question, "I think if I had to choose, I'd rather sleep a hundred years than look at another piece of food again." Gemma's stomach growled then in protest.
The lady laughed beautifully, a wide smile on her mouth. "I'm sure you can sleep and eat tonight without having to resort to such drastic measures," the lady reassured her, leading her down the path again, one arm wrapped around Gemma's.
They came to a fork in the path, the lady choosing to go right. Gemma heard a raucous clamor of voices singing and yelling from the other direction. She snorted and the lady giggled. "I've never met a dwarf before but they seem very…spirited," Annúnel said tentatively. Gemma could have sworn she'd heard glass breaking and winced, "That's putting it mildly, for sure."
The lady patted her hand, "No matter, they are welcome, as are you. Change is necessary and we see so little of it."
They did not meet anyone on the way to her rooms and Gemma was mildly relieved. She felt grimy and knew she must look a mess. Reaching a closed door, Annúnel pulled out an ancient looking key and inserted it into a hole in the wonderfully carved wood. When they stepped inside, Gemma was surprised at how large it was. A few feet from the entrance lay three steps that descended down into a lower floor that held a massive bed that Gemma wanted to drown herself in. Soft looking pillows and blankets covered the bed and Gemma wanted to cry in relief at the sight. The lady pointed at a door on a wall beyond the bed, "Behind there is the bathing room. I will get some things for your ankle, rest here a moment." Annúnel left Gemma on a cushioned stool that sat beside a wooden desk. Gemma placed her duffel bag on the ground next to her feet.
Gemma didn't even have time to look around the room before the lady returned, carrying a tray of small bottles and bandages. Gemma removed her boots gingerly as Annúnel placed the tray on top of the desk. Her ankle looked horrible and that was with it covered mostly by her jeans. She bent down to pull the leg of her pants up, the fabric dingy with dirt and sweat. The elf knelt down and gently placed Gemma's foot in her lap. She prodded Gemma's ankle gently and then twisted it slightly. Gemma cursed. "It is sprained, but this should help," the lady told her and took a bottle from the tray. She poured a bit of its contents into her hand and rubbed the oil into Gemma's ankle. It felt cold, then warm, tingly all the while. Gemma smiled. It's like IcyHot, she thought, happy at the familiarity she'd found in elvish medicine.
"I will wrap it for you after you finish your bath," said the elf and she helped Gemma limp towards the bathroom door. Gemma opened it, pausing in the doorway. She really shouldn't be surprised at the opulence of it, but she was, very much so. The tiles on the floor made up a mosaic of blue and green waves, resembling the ocean. There was a long table along one wall that held many colorful bottles and cloths, but the tub—no, the pool, took up the majority of the room. It was sunken into the floor with steps leading into the steaming water. The source of the water was a small waterfall coming from a hole in the wall that rushed gently into the golden-tiled pool beneath it. Gemma saw a small drain at the bottom of the clear water. Who knew elves had indoor plumbing?
"I will take your clothes to be washed and mended. Do you need help bathing?"
Gemma shook herself out of her reverie, "Uhmm, no thank you."
Annúnel smiled at her reddening face. "Would you like me to wait out of the room while you undress?"
Gemma's shoulders slumped in relief, "Yes, please."
Once the elf had shut the door behind her, Gemma began to unbutton her dirty plaid shirt. It had once been purple and grey, but you could hardly tell it had ever been any other color but dusty brown. Her jeans were in a similar state. She peeled off her underthings and folded all of her clothes into a small pile. She hid behind the door as she opened it to hand her disgusting clothes off to the lady. "Thank you," Gemma told her and quickly shut the door.
Gemma peered at the bottles on the table, seeing they were unlabeled. She opened one and brought it up to her nose. It smelled strongly of rose. Gemma winced and put it back. She went through four other bottles before she found one that smelled lightly of lavender and decided that would do. She set it on the ground next to the pool along with a large square of plushy white cloth that Gemma guessed was their version of terry cloth and a small square of linen.
She stepped slowly into the pool. It was warm, but not too hot and Gemma did not even care how they'd gotten it to a perfect temperature. She stood at the bottom of the pool, the water rising to her chest, soaking up the warmth of the water. This is what heaven must be like, she was certain. She ducked under the water, wetting her long, tangled hair, then grabbed the bottle, pouring a large amount onto her head. She scrubbed and scrubbed all the while wishing for conditioner. Gemma washed her hair a few times and then moved to her body, picking up the linen to wash the dirt away. Once she finally felt clean, she sat on one of the steps in the water for a long time, leaning her head on the side of the pool, thinking of nothing.
Gemma soaked in the peace of that moment that was as tangible as the water around her for so long her skin began to prune. She noticed this, but took a second to wonder if she cared enough to leave. She gave a wide yawn and thought of the glorious bed waiting to embrace her next door so she stood up. Her ankle felt much better and the swelling had lessened considerably. Gemma dried off with the thick cotton square and saw a light blue robe hanging from the back of the door. She wrapped the towel around her head, put on the silky robe, and opened the door.
Annúnel stood there, one hand raised as if to knock. She dropped her hand, giving the towel wrapped around Gemma's hair a funny look. In the elf's other hand was a tray of delicious looking food. "You're my savior," Gemma told her fondly.
The lady smiled and swept to the side so Gemma could pass her. She set the food down onto the desk that still held the other tray. "Sit," said Annúnel, pointing at the nearby cushion. Gemma did and the lady wrapped her ankle tightly in white bandages. "Thank you," Gemma said.
The lady nodded and said, "Eat while I brush your hair." Her tone brooked no argument, not that Gemma would have. It knew it would be a chore and she was happy to hand it over to someone else. The elf took the towel from her head and pulled a wooden-backed brush out of a drawer in the desk. Gemma looked at the tray, surveying her options. There was a bowl of sliced fruit, a small loaf of bread, a plate of very green salad, and a carafe of water. She went for the fruit first as Annúnel tackled her hair.
The poor elf was still untangling her heavy brown mane when Gemma had finished all the food on the tray. "Your hair is so thick," the lady had exclaimed more than once, but Gemma just gave her a thankful look as Annúnel continued to brush out the knots. As long as it took her, Gemma did not mind. The elf was very gentle, not pulling her hair too sharply once, which should have been an impossible feat. After a while, the brushing became smoother and more soothing, lulling Gemma into a slow rhythm that beckoned her into dreamland.
The brushing stopped and Annúnel tapped her on the shoulder. "I am done, take a look," the elf said, handing her a silver hand mirror. Gemma opened her eyes, blinking away her grogginess for a moment. She took the mirror and held it up to her face. "Your hair is very soft, very beautiful, but it does not obey easily." Gemma simply nodded in agreement. The lady had braided it intricately to fall down her neck. It would look lovely when it dried.
Gemma did not use the mirror to look at her hair though. She peered at her face, studying it to try to see the change she felt should be there. She'd only been in Middle Earth for barely a day, the sun just now setting through the window above the bed, but she felt as if it had been ages since her father's funeral. She felt different inside, altered in an indescribable way that she had hoped would reveal itself in her reflection, but she remained the same as she'd always been. Her nose was long and straight, rounding at the end. Her dark green eyes sat deep within her face, staring hard at her sharp, square jawline and harsh cheekbones. Gemma's mother had always told she had "a strong face, a fighting face," but Gemma had never been satisfied with the lack of femininity in her features. Her only consolation was the dark eyelashes that swept along her cheeks when she closed her eyes, framing the green orbs thickly when she opened them.
Gemma sighed in disappointment and set the mirror face down on the desk. "You know, a hundred years of sleep might not be enough after all," she said tiredly to Annúnel. The elf gave her a long silky nightgown in the same color as her robe and left her to rest. Once the elf had shut the door, Gemma searched for the Ulunsuti in her bag, but decided to dump its entire contents on the bed. She took stock of what she'd brought with her to Middle Earth.
On the bed now laid the blanket she'd woven for her father, the Ulunsuti, a smooshed granola bar, the shovel she'd used to dig up the Ulunsuti, her yellow flashlight, her car keys, and a necklace her father had given her many years ago. She had planned to wear it to his funeral, but hadn't been able to find it yesterday and convinced herself that she hadn't packed it to bring to Oklahoma in the first place. The chain was simple, silver with small interlocking loops. In the center of the necklace sat a wooden carving of a bear with one red bead above it sitting between the bear and the chain. Gemma clasped it around her neck, too exhausted to feel anything but the urgent need to sleep. She quickly tossed everything but the Ulunsuti back into her bag. She untucked one side of the indecently soft covers of the bed and crawled in with a heavy sigh. Gemma placed the stone underneath an equally soft pillow and was asleep before she could draw the covers up over herself.
She stood on the top of a crumbling stone parapet, surveying the mass of fighting, screaming, screeching creatures below her with an apathetic eye. This is all futile, a voice said callously inside her head. Something buried deep within her stirred, a tendril of fright creeping through her mind. She surveyed the struggle taking place in a wide field before a great mountain. One side of the warring armies appeared to be losing ground quickly. The voice inside her sighed softly and muttered, so pointless. Many lay dead or dying on the ground. Gemma could see piles of bodies on the ground. Then a small group ran out of the mountain and into the fray. They collided with the others violently and Gemma wanted to wince, but she had no control over her movements. She continued to watch the fighting; the losing side seemed to have gained a second-wind.
Soon, a few figures separated from the armies in the valley and were headed quickly up the hill where she stood. She wanted to scream at them to turn around, but she had no idea why. No, something was wrong, very wrong. Gemma could do nothing except watch them reach the top of the small hill that her parapet sat upon. They weren't supposed to be here. She didn't know how she knew, but they were in grave danger here. The figures grew closer. She could finally make out their faces. They were dwarves. She saw Thorin first, then Fili following behind him. Fog hid the other two faces from her sight. "No! Go back!" she wanted to scream at them. Her heart raced in fear and dread. Please, she thought, someone help them! It's a trap, you know, the voice in her head told her. There are few who can help any one of them, but no one will reach Ravenhill in time. Ravenhill, thought Gemma desperately, where is Ravenhill? They dwarfs crept closer, but the fog rose up, swallowing them completely. So pointless, the voice repeated. There deaths will be so pointless, unless…
Gemma sat up, gasping for breath. Sweat ran down her back and she shivered violently. Gemma couldn't remember what she dreamt about, but it filled her with an urgent, shaky fear. Something about ravens, maybe? There'd been fighting and death, yet any part of it she tried to recall slipped from her mind like water through a sieve. She pulled the covers over her legs, wrapping the blankets around herself tightly. The dream was awful, that much she knew. It disturbed her so much she didn't want to go back to sleep in case it continued once she closed her eyes again. She ran a hand through her hair, undoing the braid Annúnel had put it in. Her room was dark, but tiny streams of light were beginning to find their way through her window so Gemma decided she might as well get out of bed if there was no more sleep to be gained from it.
She pushed the covers off and shivered again. She walked slowly towards the bathroom, hands outstretched in case she ran into a wall in the not-quite-bright-enough room. Gemma entered the bathroom and took off her nightgown, stepping into the warm bath carefully. She washed the sweat from her body, but made sure to not get her hair wet. She'd learned her lesson the night before and there was no Annúnel to help her wrestle it at the moment. Once she was finished with her bath, she dried off and went to hunt for clean clothes.
In the main room, there was a tall wardrobe tucked into the far corner she'd missed last night in her quick survey of the room. The sun was shining more helpfully now so she opened the small wooden doors, peering at the contents inside. There were three long dresses to choose from, but that was it. Gemma frowned at the lack of options. She couldn't very well go around wrapped in a towel until her own clothes were washed, although looking at the finery in front of her she was seriously considering it. Either way, she'd have to go commando. The first dress was a light green velvet with long flowing sleeves and a high waist. The second was a deep maroon gown with small twinkling gold beads sewn in a swirly pattern from the neckline to the waist and then picked back up again at the hem. The third was a dark blue cotton that reminded her of the dress she'd worn to the funeral.
Gemma was instantly relieved at the memory of the dress. She could wear that instead of these gowns that were much too fine for her taste. Still wrapped up in her towel, she went to her bag, rifling through it to find the simple navy summer dress. She couldn't find it though…had it been there when she'd taken stock of her belongings last night? She didn't remember seeing it then, but she distinctly recalled putting it in her bag when she changed in her father's house after that rude man, Mr. Pont, left. So when had she lost it? Gemma tried to guess, but it really could have been anytime she had been in Middle Earth. It might have been lost when she'd been roughly taken from her world, or when the trolls picked her up, or even when they'd been running from the orc pack. She sighed sadly, both because she was fond of the navy frock and because she would now have to wear one of the gowns in the wardrobe.
She picked the blue one and pulled it over her head. It was too long; she'd have to hold it up while she walked. The sleeves were thankfully much shorter and tighter than the sleeves on the other two gowns, only reaching her elbow. She found a thin brown belt hanging from a hook in the back of the dresser so she placed it around her waist tightly, trying to draw up some of the fabric of the dress so she wouldn't trip as easily. The bodice of the gown was thick enough and, once she'd figured out the laces in the back of it, tight enough to support her breasts. It still felt weird to be without a bra and especially weird without underwear. What else could she do though? She looked around for her boots, but they weren't where she'd left them. Perhaps Annúnel had taken them to be cleaned as well? They had been fairly muddy. She supposed going barefoot wouldn't be that big of a deal in Rivendell, at least.
Gemma was about to leave the room in search of breakfast, but she hesitated. Should she leave the stone there? She didn't want to leave it here, merely hiding under her pillow, but she didn't want to carry it around out in the open either. It contained magic of some sort, surely it should remain a secret as much as possible. Her long dress had no pockets, go figure, and all she had to carry it in was her duffle bag. After a few moment's deliberation, she decided she would look around the room more thoroughly. If she found nothing useful, she'd just carry in her hand wrapped around the fabric of her dress and hope for the best.
She started with the desk, opening its many drawers. At last, in the bottom drawer she found a small drawstring pouch that held a few pieces of different colored wax Gemma presumed for was sealing envelopes. She emptied the pouch and put the wax back into the drawer. Gemma grabbed the Ulunsuti out from under her pillow on the bed. She placed it gently into the leather pouch and tied the pouch around her belt. It weighed the belt down a bit, but it was the best she could do for now and she walked out the door, her stomach growling.
She was unsure where to go, but thought her best bet was to go back the way Annúnel had led her the night before. Hopefully, she'd run into someone who could point her in the right direction. Gemma was lucky this morning for she did run into someone, literally. She came around the corner and a small body collided with hers rather painfully. A foot hit her ankle at a strange ankle and it throbbed angrily "Shit," she cursed, grabbing her sore ankle. The small person who'd fallen to the ground at their collision giggled. Gemma looked down. It was a small boy with dark shaggy hair.
"Are you alright?" she asked him, concerned she had hurt him with her clumsiness.
"You said a bad word," the boy said with a mischievous grin.
Gemma felt vaguely guilty and smirked, "Yes, but if no one else hears it, did it really happen?"
The boy tilted his head like a small puppy, thinking over her odd reasoning. "Of course it did," he told her. "I heard it."
"And I'll deny it to my death," she teased, placing a hand over her heart. The boy scrambled up to his feet energetically. "I'm sorry I ran into you. You are okay, aren't you?"
The boy grinned again, "I ran into you. It was my fault and no harm was done. Ada won't have to patch me up just yet."
Gemma's eyebrow raised, curious now, "Who is your father?"
"Lord Elrond, but he's not really my father. He just lets me call him that," the boy informed her matter-of-factly. Gemma's thoughts about breakfast paused for a moment. Elrond had two sons, but she was sure they'd be much older during this period of time, and this boy was definitely not an elf.
"My name's Gemma. What's yours?" she asked the boy, puzzled.
"I am Estel," he answered her, giving her a very proper bow.
Estel? It sounded familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on why. Maybe she'd ask Gandalf later. "It was nice to run into you, Estel. Do you think you could show me where I can get some breakfast? I'm famished."
The small boy stuck out his chest as if Gemma had given him an important quest to fulfill. "Of course, my lady." Estel stuck out his elbow and Gemma laughed. He gave her a wide smile so she bent down and took his arm, allowing him to escort her back the way he'd come.
"Thank you, kind sir," Gemma stuck her nose up in the air and took on an airy, aristocratic tone. "I don't know what would have become of me had you not appeared so suddenly. I think I might have died of starvation right there in the hall, but you have saved me with your gallantry." Estel laughed gleefully at her words, but tried to maintain a stoic posture while leading Gemma to the dining hall.
It did not take them long to reach a small pavilion where Gemma saw a few dwarves already eating. Estel stopped about twenty feet away from the enclosure and whispered, "Ada said I should not bother the dwarves. He says I ask too many questions and dwarves are not known for their patience." The boy dropped Gemma's arm, looking at the four dwarves sitting calmly at the table. "They don't look very scary. Elladan told me they would strangle me with their beards should I get too close." Gemma laughed again loudly.
"They're not so bad, but if Lord Elrond told you not to bother them, it's probably best you run along." Estel's shoulders drooped in disappointment.
Gemma gave him a deep curtsy, her ankle not thanking her for the awkward movement. "I shall be forever in your debt, milord." Estel perked up as Gemma continued their game.
He bowed low and made a grand hand gesture from his head to his heart and then to her. "It is my greatest honor, Lady Gemma." He straightened and his blue eyes twinkled in the sun. They heard someone headed their way from down the path and he gave her a quick wave before running off. "Adorable," Gemma muttered.
She stepped into the pavilion and was overcome with the smell of cooking meat. Her mouth watered; it smelled awfully close to bacon. At the table sat the dwarf with the funny hat, Bombur, the white-bearded dwarf, and one other dwarf with—was that an axe sticking out of his head?! How had she not noticed that before? When they saw her, Bombur waved and the floppy-hatted dwarf stood up. He walked towards her and said, "I've not introduced myself, yet, and Bombur complained at my very poor manners. I am Bofur, at your service." He swept off his hat and bowed.
Gemma gave a slight dip. "And I at yours?" she told him as if it was a question.
He smirked and pointed at the dwarves still sitting down, "You know my brother, Bombur, but that's my cousin, Bifur, and Master Balin, brother of Dwalin—the beefy one that tried to rough you up yesterday."
Gemma nodded and replied with a tad bit of contempt in her tone, "Yes, I remember." Then she sat at the table next to Bifur, saying to Bifur and Balin, "How do you do?"
Bifur replied with a few rough grunts of Khuzdul and Balin said, "Well enough, lass. How did ya' sleep?"
Gemma recalled her nightmare with a shiver, but told him, "Fine, thank you."
"I've made bacon and eggs. Are you hungry, Miss Gemma?" Bombur asked her politely.
"I could eat a horse," she said. They all gave her a funny look.
"Is that a common meal where you come from?" Bofur asked her haltingly.
Gemma smiled, trying to refrain from teasing him. "No, it's just a saying. It means I'm very, very hungry."
"Ah, good," he said, sounding relieved.
"Here ya are." Bombur set a plate of warm, delicious looking food in front of her. She tucked in and the dwarves chatted calmly about elves and their lack of good food, telling Gemma that they'd had to eat only fruit and vegetables the night before. Bifur said something in an angry voice.
"Yes," agreed Bofur, "it was horrid." Gemma rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything. She was very grateful for the meal before her.
"Ah, Master Bilbo! There ya' are. We expected you to be the first to wake for breakfast," Balin called to the hobbit that just walked into their dining area. The poor hobbit rubbed his eyes sleepily.
"Yes, well, it was nice to sleep in a proper bed again," Bilbo told them.
"How long have you been gone from the Shire, Bilbo?" Gemma asked.
"A little over a month, I think. I can't believe it is already June."
"June?" Gemma coughed, choking on her eggs. Bifur patted her roughly on the back until she stopped choking. "How can it be June?"
"Time flies when you're having fun?" guessed Bofur.
"It was the middle of April when I found the stone. It shouldn't be June," Gemma said, desperately confused.
"You seem awfully sure of what should and shouldn't be, of what can and can't be, for someone who has only been in Middle Earth for two days," Balin told her wisely.
Gemma stopped trying to figure out how she'd lost a month, thinking on Balin's words instead. He was right. She needed to stop trying to place real world logic onto unreal-world happenings. This is getting a little too mad-hatter-esque for me, she thought. 'Why is a raven like a writing-desk?' How is Middle Earth different from her Earth?
While she was trying to decide if she should worry about missing the month of May or if she should just accept it and hope May would be there when she returned home, Thorin and the rest of the company filtered in to sit at the table. Gemma looked up at the increased noise-level, her eyes falling on Thorin first and her nightmare came rushing back to her. The fighting, the dead bodies, the crumbling parapet, the fog that swallowed Thorin so ominously, the eerie voice in her head that whispered, "unless…" "Ravenhill," she whispered. Bifur turned to give her a strange look. "Uhmm, sorry," she said, her voice cracking, "gotta find Gandalf." And Gemma walked calmly out of the pavilion and into the main building. Once she was out of sight, she ran into the main group of buildings, hurriedly searching for the meddlesome wizard.
They would die. Thorin had died in the book and it had been sad, but it never bothered her that much before. Now though, that niggling voice in her head kept repeating over and over, "unless, unless…," and she had a bad feeling she did not want the voice to finish the rest of that sentence.
A/N: Ada means father in elvish. I made a Pinterest board (link in my bio) to show ya'll what Gemma looks like. I also added pins of her outfits and other stuff (including people who I thought looked like I had imagined Gemma's parents would look like) so check it out if you like. The Mad-hatter and his riddle about the raven and the writing-desk is from Alice in Wonderland, which I don't own. This has not been beta'ed so all mistakes are mine, feel free to tell me when you see any! Thanks for reviewing/following/favoriting or for doing all three!
Lostfeather1, it took me forever to find someone who I thought looked most like the Gemma in my head and I've decided Q'orianka Kilcher. She's a native actor who has the right bone structure I was looking for. I've seen her in a few movies and I like her a lot. I put some pics of her in my Pinterest board. I tried to do better at describing her in this chapter, but you've found my Kryptonite. I'm just awful at describing faces. Did I do ok? Or is it just super awful?
miaandB and guest, Mulan is one of THE best Disney movies, hands down. Did you know they're making a live-action version of it? I'm so stoked.
BloodyTink, I love Ori so much. It's a constant struggle to not write all of Gemma's dwarven interactions just between her and Ori. He's a cutie-patootie.
Thanks for reading, my apple dumplings!