Chapter Seven: Branch in the path

Thorin was not known for his tolerance, as dwarves weren't, and he felt that sleeping under the roof of an elf was asking quite a lot of him. He and the rest of his company were glad to have some sort of respite from their taxing journey, though they'd never admit it. The dwarves chose to sleep in large hall together, not trusting their host enough to be separated into the individual rooms they'd been offered. Bilbo also chose to remain with the company, which surprised Thorin. Bilbo was still a stranger to the dwarves, but he was not entirely unwanted and he'd signed a contract besides.

The hobbit was much more familiar to them than the extra tag-along they'd picked up in the Trollshaws. Thorin had very mixed feelings about Gemma Halvard. He had been so shocked and relieved to see the Arkenstone in her possession, but was aggravated that it had to remain so. He had thought long and hard about how he would manage to keep the stone away from her. Thorin did not wish to hurt Gemma; he owed her a great deal for bringing the stone to him in the first place, but the Arkenstone was his birthright. It was his duty to unite his kin and reclaim his home. The presence of the stone, while extremely fortuitous, created a series of questions along with its keeper. The whole point of their journey was to steal the Arkenstone out from Smaug's nose. Once he had it, he could command dwarven armies to defeat the dragon and Erebor would be ruled by Durin's folk once more. But now, where should they go? They could continue east, traveling past Erebor towards the Iron Hills and call upon his cousin Dain. Or Thorin could lead his men back to the Blue Mountains and retrieve more of his kin there, but then they'd have come all this way for nothing. Either way, it was clear Bilbo's burglary skills were no longer needed.

Thorin was also curious as to how Gemma had come into possession of the Arkenstone in the first place. Something was obviously wrong with it. It only looked like the Arkenstone in her hands and if he had to, he would tote her across the breadth of Middle Earth just to have her make it glow its true colors, not that he wanted to. The sight of the stone when it was that dormant dull white unsettled Thorin and no dwarf would be united under the piece of unwanted rock that it resembling without Gemma holding it. The girl was a puzzle he needed to solve soon. He did not want to stay with the elves any longer than necessary, but he would figure out where to go and what to do before leaving the valley.

He laid on his bedroll, contemplating Gemma and all the questions she'd brought with her. She had mentioned having knowledge of "everything," but surely she was no seer. Although, she'd been right about the Brown Wizard and the orc pack. Maybe she knew how Thorin's journey would end. He didn't know if he should trust the girl enough to ask her and if he did, why should he belief her? His head hurt with all the nuances of trouble Gemma Halvard caused him. Thorin drifted off into a troubled sleep, wondering where the girl was staying, hoping she kept the stone safe.

…

He blinked his eyes open as the first rays of dawn filtered through the large glass panes in the hall where he and the rest of the dwarves slept. Gloin was currently on watch, having taken over for his brother Oin sometime in the night. Safe they may seem, but elves had a penchant for fickle promises. There would remain at least one dwarf on watch the whole time they stayed in Rivendell. He got up silently, nodding at Gloin before walking out of the hall, sword in hand. Surely there would be a decent place to train in this elf-infested place.

After he found a training yard, with a wall of weaponry standing next to it, he went through the motions his father had taught him in his youth. He missed Thrain often, but the pain had dulled over the years, turning into regret. He knew his father was alive. When he reclaimed Erebor, he would have something with which to make his father proud once Thrain returned. No one entered the arena the dwarf was in so he was left to think and train in peace. Thorin spent an hour practicing with the elven blade: Orcrist, Elrond had told him. It fit in his hand nicely. It was well-balanced and very well made for something forged with elvish hands.

Afterwards, on his way back to the hall where most of the dwarves still rested, an elf had been kind enough to show him to a bathing pool nearby. His hair was still damp when he met up with several other dwarves and followed them to find breakfast. They all discussed their mutual disgust of greens and planned to fry some bacon if Bombur had not beaten them to it.

They entered the pavilion where they had poked at their dinner the night before. Balin, Bifur, Bofur, and Bilbo were sitting at the table. Bombur was standing near a fire, tending to something that smelled delicious. The woman, Gemma, sat next to Bifur and Thorin barely recognized her. She wore a long blue gown that fit her well. Her dark hair fell in waves that framed her face and moved in the slight breeze. She was no longer covered in dirt or troll slime. Her forehead was furrowed as she talked with Balin, but she turned towards him when she heard them sit down. Thorin was instantly trapped by her green eyes and he frowned at the lack of purple shining from their depths. Where was the stone? The girl's eyes widened and then she muttered something to Bifur before taking off. Thorin noted the pouch hanging off of her belt, a distinct round shape inside, and he breathed calmly once more. It was better she left anyways, he needed to confer with Balin about what they should do with her and the stone.

"Ravenhill, Ravenhill," Gemma muttered repeatedly. She couldn't forget this time, but something in her knew she'd never forget even if she wanted to. The dream had been especially violent and gruesome, yet it was the one moment where Thorin had walked into the fog, his blue eyes so determined, that impacted Gemma the most. Every time she thought about, a small burn, not unlike how the Ulunsuti made her feel when it was being magically bothersome, lingered in the center of her chest. She had meant to walk towards where her room was in hopes of finding Annúnel who might then lead her to Gandalf. Gemma turned another corner, deciding she must have passed her room because her surroundings did not look familiar. She kept going down another hall, certain she'd eventually pass someone who might help her. The tapestries that covered the walls were beautiful from what little Gemma glimpsed in her hurry to find the Grey Wizard. There were many statues, flowers and fine filigreed furniture that she was tempted to stop and study, but she hurried on. Holding the hem of her dress up off the ground with one hand and holding the stone close to her body to keep it from hitting her as she walked with the other, she huffed in frustration. About to yell for someone, anyone, in this elven maze of luxuriously decorated halls, she finally spotted someone in an open doorway she had almost walked by. She stopped, peeking into the room.

The room looked like a small office. There were several wooden desks covered in maps, yellowed parchment, and a few books. The figure she'd seen was leaning over a book, a burning candle a little too close to his long hair for safety. Gemma cleared her throat gently. The elf sat up startled and turned, giving her a curious look.

"Uhmm, I'm sorry to disturb you, but I'm awfully lost," Gemma started, but the elf simply continued to look at her oddly.

"I'm looking for Gandalf. It's important I find him. Do you know where he might be?" She tried again.

The elf tilted his head, rattling off something in elvish she couldn't understand. This time Gemma gave him an odd look. Maybe he only spoke elvish. "Uh, Mithrandir?" she tried again. "I need to find Mithrandir. Ya know, tall wizard, pointy hat," Gemma used her hands to make a point over her head, miming Gandalf's peculiar hat. The elf smiled and nodded. Ok, Gemma thought, now we're getting somewhere. The elf stood up, grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door quickly.

If he'd not been holding onto Gemma's hand, she'd be twice as lost as she had been. They went down so many halls and through a ton of doors that Gemma lost count. Just how big was this place? Finally, he stopped in front of a thick cherry-colored door and knocked. A voice that Gemma could not hear called through the door. The elf opened it, saying something in reply. He pulled her through this door as well and presented her to Gandalf, Elrond, and another tall man she did not know, but had a bad feeling about. A tingle zinged up her arm. They sat at a table, Gandalf smoking and Elrond peering over a manuscript. The elf holding her hand said something to the men that were all now looking at them. They laughed then Gandalf told Gemma, "Lútthor says he is still learning to speak the common tongue of men, but your accent is so thick he wouldn't be able to understand you had he'd been speaking it for a hundred years." Gemma blushed profusely, but was somewhat offended at their ridicule.

Gemma crossed her arms and said defensively, "At least I'm not from Boston."

The elf just smiled again before turning to leave. "Wait," Gemma called. He turned back to her, "Uh, hantale…I think." The elf smiled and gave a deep nod before exiting the room.

Gemma looked at the men around the small table while they looked at her expectantly. She fiddle with her thumbs anxiously. "Gandalf, I need to speak to you," she told him nervously.

The wizard took a long pull from his pipe, one bushy grey eyebrow raising in question. "In private, if you don't mind," Gemma went on tersely. Gandalf put out his pipe and tucked it into his robes before standing up, his joints creaking. Lord Elrond gave her a nod as Gandalf led her out of the room with an arm around her shoulder.

"Is something the matter, my dear?" The wizard asked once they have entered a private study. Gemma closed the door.

"Who was that man with you, Gandalf?" Gemma was worried. The man had looked extremely old with long white hair that fell straight past his shoulders. He'd looked at Gemma with dark beady eyes that searched her too intensely for her liking. She held her breath for his answer.

"That is Saruman, but I suspect you knew that already," Gandalf said, leaning his head down to look at her closely.

Gemma shivered and had the distinct urge to vomit. Acid bubbled in her stomach as she whispered, "Yes, I think I did." She was so afraid. Something like this had been beyond what she'd prayed she wouldn't come across in Middle Earth. Trolls? Yes, that was a major awakening into her new reality, but no harm done really. Orcs? Sure, that hadn't really surprised her. There were heaps of orcs in the books. Hang around long enough and they'd find you eventually. Wargs? Those had surprised her, but she'd narrowly escaped with all her limbs and didn't think she'd encounter them again. Evil wizards in league with the Ultimate Bad Guy? Now that Gemma had thought about, fully believing he would remain in Isengard, like he was meant to and Gemma would go about her business peacefully never having to even consider his presence. Yet, here he was, reclining in Rivendell, not two rooms away from her.

"Gandalf, I—he...," she swallowed and tried again. "Did you tell him about me, about the stone?"

"No," he said calmly. Gemma wanted to sob in relief, but simply sighed heavily instead. "Not yet," Gandalf finished.

Gemma's eyes widened and she shook her head violently in disagreement. "No! No, you cannot—must not tell him anything about me."

Gandalf sat down wearily in a leather armchair, "And why not? He might have prudent information about the stone. Saruman is a powerful wizard. He could know how to send you home."

"I don't care," she protested and she really didn't. The White Wizard could be the one person in Middle Earth who knew how to send her home, but Gemma would rather stay here and rot than have anything to do with the evil man. "Gandalf, I will not tell you why, but you must trust me when I say Saruman cannot know who I am or why I am here. He cannot know about the stone."

The Grey Wizard rubbed a wrinkled hand over his tired eyes and said, "I do trust you, Gemma Halvard. Do you trust me?"

Gemma hesitated, "I—it depends on what you will tell the White Wizard."

"I will tell him you are a stray we found in the Trollshaws that was forced to flee with us from the orc pack." Gandalf gave her a small smile, "Which is true enough."

"I'm serious, Gandalf."

He nodded and said, "I swear I will not tell him the truth concerning you or the stone. You have my word. Lord Elrond will follow my lead on this, though he may ask questions later."

"Thank you."

The wizard straightened marginally in his chair. "Now, what did you need to speak to me about, child?"

"Oh! Well, it's very weird…," she tried to begin, but Gandalf chuckled.

"I am beginning to expect only 'weird' things when it comes to you, Miss Halvard."

Gemma huffed, but she agreed with him. Her situation was getting more and more complicated and she did not approve.

"I had this dream of a great battle in a valley. I stood watching it from a stone fortress on a place called Ravenhill, high above the fighting armies. The weird part, though, was this voice speaking in my head. It kept saying 'it was pointless, futile.' Then Thorin, Fili and two others came up the hill. The voice told me it was a trap and I felt very afraid for them. I couldn't tell them to turn around and they disappeared into the fog while the voice told me that they would die, unless…"

Gandalf was looking at her intensely. "Unless what?"

Gemma twisted her hands in frustration. "That's just it. I don't know. It just 'unless…' and then I woke up terrified. I'm still terrified when I think about it, but I don't know why."

Gandalf thought over her words silently. After a few moments, Gemma decided to tell him, "Thorin does die, you know. In the book, he is killed during the Battle of Five Armies and Dain takes over Erebor. It's not even that big of a deal though. His death just sort of happens, Bilbo cries and then it's over. Why would it matter now?"

"Hmm," hummed Gandalf.

"Did you know that Thorin would—will die?"

The wizard took a deep breath. He exhaled slowly and said sadly, "I suspected it was a likely outcome. I became more certain when you told me some of what you knew in the forest after the trolls and Elrond has hinted it is a distinct possibility."

"And you were going to do nothing?" she asked him astounded by his callousness.

Gandalf stood up quickly. He seemed to grow two feet taller, the shadows in the room grew darker, and his voice cowed her. "Do not presume to know my motives or my actions, Gemma Halvard, child from another realm. I am a protector of this world and I will protect it from those who would see it destroyed. Thorin is mortal. He is going to die someday. It is not for me to decide when that is."

Gemma knew he was right, but something told her she could change it. Unless, she thought. Unless, agreed the strange voice in her head.

"However," Gandalf began, his tone much lighter now, "It might be for someone else to decide."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like where you're going with this?"

"You are here for a reason, my dear. It is not coincidence that brought you across my path. Be it the Ilúvatar, the Arkenstone, or both, that flung you into Middle Earth, a path has been set."

"What if I don't want to follow it?" she asked timidly.

"Something tells me you don't have a choice."

Gemma closed her eyes and cursed, "Well, fuck."

After they'd finished eating the morning meal Bombur had made for them, Thorin took Balin aside to a secluded area. "Do you think we should continue on our journey?" he asked the wizened dwarf.

Balin looked taken aback. He opened his mouth to reply to Thorin, but seemed to think better of what he had planned to say so he paused a moment. Thorin watched his old friend and wondered if Balin had been tempted to admonish him.

"Thorin," Balin said calmly, "do you remember what I told you before we left the Shire?"

Thorin nodded. "You told me I had a choice."

"Aye, that I did, and you made your choice. You cannot go back now."

"Balin, we set out to find the Arkenstone and now we have it," Thorin reasoned.

"Do we? Last I saw, that stone laid in the hand of a strange young woman who knows too much for her own good."

"She is but a branch in the path that must be removed before we continue on."

Balin ran a hand through his white beard, "Thorin, without her there is no Arkenstone. Even I can see that there is a connection between her and the stone."

Thorin growled, shifting his feet in irritation. "Yes, but why?"

"Ori told us the story she disclosed to him about the stone falling from a dragon's head."

"Rubbish," scoffed Thorin.

Balin shrugged and muttered, "Maybe."

"You believe her tale?" Thorin asked, appalled.

Balin shrugged again, "No one knows where the Arkenstone came from."

"They found it while mining. It is the Heart of the Mountain!"

Balin held out his hands in supplication, "A tale told in many forms by many people. What makes the lady's story less believable than a miner's?"

Thorin threw up his own hands in disbelief, "So she's a lady now, is she?"

"Thorin, the only reason we're even having this discussion is because of her. She warned us about the wargs, and the orcs. She brought the stone, whether by her will or no. Who knows if she also has the power to take it away?"

"So we take her with us and then what? We call our kin to fight the dragon, we win Erebor, give her a fancy title, and then ask her to stay forever, a human among dwarves?"

"Guardian of the Stone?" Balin said sarcastically.

Thorin rolled his eyes. "And when she grows old and dies, what happens to the stone then? What if she dies on the road to Erebor, before we can even unite our nations? Or if she is kidnapped? She is too much of a risk."

"It's a dangerous business, Thorin, just going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to. There is risk in everything. No one knows the future," Balin paused, then added, "Except maybe Gemma Halvard." Thorin took a deep breath, running a hand across his face.

"She'll have to be protected," Thorin directed, slightly mollified.

Balin smiled slightly, "We can train her up a bit, too."

"We still need answers about the map," Thorin added before the conversation ended.

"Aye, but not from the elves."

Saruman had left the library—to rest before some meeting, Gandalf told her—where Gemma had found him sitting so quaintly with Elrond and Gandalf like a wolf in sheep's clothing, the wretched bastard. The deepest circle in hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers, she thought angrily. She tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that he would get his just deserts, but just knowing he was in the relative vicinity troubled her thoughts. She sat at the table, in Gandalf's spot, waiting for Elrond to finish what he was reading so that they could discuss how to send her home. Gandalf remained standing near an open window, looking out at the trees swaying in the wind.

She rested her head on the table, breathing in the smell of cedar and old ink on even older parchment. Elrond's library was lovely, even if it was slightly tainted with the White Wizard's filth. Earlier, before she'd sat down, she gone straight to a solid shelf laden with thick volumes and scrolls that taunted Gemma. She wanted to run her fingers down the spines and between the pages, but they must be very old. Elrond had offered her one in the common tongue to read, but while the language they spoke sounded like English it certainly did not look like it. Some of the letters looked familiar, but the order they were in made to sense to Gemma. It had made her feel immensely disconnected and homesick. She missed normal people doing normal things. She wanted to be able to walk outside without fearing for her life. She wanted to read her favorite books or play a game on her phone; normal twenty-first century stuff. Middle Earth even felt different, maybe earthier, and Gemma suspected that is was due to the lack of pollution. Ironic that she should miss something she'd tried to hinder all her life; Gemma was a firm believer of recycling.

Finally, Elrond closed his book. Gemma lifted her head from the table and saw Gandalf had sat down in Saruman's old spot.

"Although I do not understand why we cannot consult Saruman," Elrond began, "I do not think he would have any more luck than I am having. I have found nothing helpful concerning the Arkenstone except for varying tales of its origins."

Gemma asked, "Varying? You mean, they don't know where it came from? They just found a random glowing stone and decided to make it the crown jewel?"

"I still think we should consider the possibility that the stone is both the Arkenstone and Gemma's Ulunsuti. The amount of time it was missing matches the amount of time Gemma's family was in possession of it," Gandalf inserted.

"Even if that was true, how does it help send me home?"

"If the stone came from a dragon, perhaps a dragon is who you should ask," Elrond counseled.

"You want me to ask a fucking fire-breathing, man-eating, mountain-stealing dragon how I can get home?" Gemma snapped. "I'll just knock on his front door and say: Mr. Smaug sir, sorry to wake you after 60 years, but please tell me how to use a stone that fell out of your decapitated brethren."

"There's no need for rancor, Miss Halvard," Gandalf reproved.

"There is plenty of need when you tell me you can't send me home, but a giant smoky dragon might be able to. Might being the key word, here. Do you or do you not understand that everyone is in danger the longer I stay here?" Gemma asked, almost shouting at them. "You might as well send Bilbo home right now and then the world will just go to shit that much sooner." Gemma stood up and walked away from the table. If she didn't stop looking at Gandalf's stupid face she'd sock him right in the nose.

Elrond sighed, watching her pace between his bookshelves. "Lady Galadriel will be here in a few days' time, perhaps she will know what to do," the elf told the wizard.

Gandalf hummed in agreement. "Let us hope so, old friend."

A/N: As far as I can figure out through tons of googling, 'hantale' means thank you, but please correct me is I'm wrong. If you did not recognize the quote Balin spoke to Thorin about danger, "It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to," it's said by Bilbo in Lord of the Rings. The quote Gemma uses when thinking of Saruman, "The deepest circle in hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers," is from Pirates of the Caribbean. I own neither of them. I'm sorry this chapter is so short compared to the others, but I am exhausted and my beautiful bed beckons. This chapter, like always, is un-beta'ed so all mistakes are mine. Let me know if you spot any, pretty please! Thank you so SO so much for all your review/favorites/follows. They mean the world to me!

lostfeather1, Gandalf learn to stop meddling? Never.

Mademoiselle Diablerie, thank you very much for the correction. It was very much appreciated and I fixed it as soon as I could.

Gingah18, I'm glad you did, too!

Thanks for reading, sugar plums!