Chapter Eight: Preparations

Lord Elrond had been very generous to her, Bilbo, and the dwarves. He and his house were certainly grander than anything Gemma had expected. She had soon tired of the library, even with its wonderful smell. It was heart-breaking to be in the presence of so many books, of such knowledge, with no way to read them, to obtain said knowledge. She thought Bilbo would like it, though, and she made a mental note to tell him about it the next time she saw him. When she left Gandalf and Elrond in the library, she took no care for which direction she went this time. Gemma was in no hurry to find someone and, with the news that getting home would not actually be as easy as asking an elf for help, she found herself seeking isolation. Unfortunately for Gemma, it is usually when we seek solitude that we are unable to find it.

Gemma had not been walking through the maze-halls long when she took a turn and found herself outside on a high balcony that overlooked a glorious waterfall. She walked up to the railing that bordered the balcony, peering over the edge to look at the rushing water meet a pool of water some thirty feet below. While she was staring at the depths of the pool, a throat cleared loudly behind her causing her to jump. Gemma whirled around. Thorin sat casually balanced on the balustrade, his back against the wall where the railing met the stone. His left leg was bent at the knee, laying on the thick banister, and his right hung down not quite touching the floor. If it had been Bilbo or Ori in such an aristocratic pose, Gemma would have giggled and teased them mercilessly, but Thorin made a striking figure with the sun glinting off pieces of metal on his belt and his dark hair swept back by the calm breeze. His blue eyes did not leave her face as Gemma stared at him in surprise. He was quite handsome, Gemma realized, and he was destined to die. She shook that thought out of her head. "What are you doing here?" she asked him.

Thorin broke his gaze, looking out toward the skyline. "I came here to think." His reply was simple, but Gemma thought he sounded as if thinking was something painful for him. She continued to stare at him, even after he looked away.

"About what?"

He took a moment to reply and then looked at the pouch hanging from her belt. "About you," and Thorin nodded his head towards her pouch, "and about the gem in your possession."

Gemma sighed lightly, "That's funny. I was thinking about the exact same things."

He looked at her face, trying to discern if her tone was mocking him or disparaging of herself. "You confuse me, Miss Halvard."

Gemma snorted. "You're not the only one that feels that way, especially in this place. If it makes you feel better, there has not been a moment since I arrived in Middle Earth that I have not been confused myself."

Thorin smirked. "You do seem awfully out of place."

She laughed sardonically, "I have never been so out of place in my entire life."

"Is your world truly so different?" he asked, a small scowl forming.

"You have no idea. I wouldn't even know how to begin describing the differences between this world and mine." Gemma sounded almost mournful and Thorin felt a little guilty he'd asked.

"And yet the Arkenstone was in your world. It brought you here," he told her.

"Yes," Gemma agreed, "It did." She turned from him and sat on the ground, tucking her feet beneath her, her back resting against the center of the railing. "Lord Elrond thinks," Gemma began tentatively, "that the Arkenstone and the Ulunsuti are one in the same."

Thorin sighed heavily, "Balin thinks that as well."

"And what do you think?"

The dwarf pinched the top on his nose between his fingers as if warding off a migraine. "I think I must consider all possibilities."

Gemma shifted her legs restlessly, "Don't you mean we must consider them? If the stone is the Arkenstone and the Ulunsuti then it belongs to both of us. I understand the claim you have over the Arkenstone, but just as it is your birthright, the Ulunsuti is mine."

"Ori told the rest of us the tale you told him about the dragon and the magic stone your people found after it died."

"Good," she said with some derision in her tone, "I'm tired of having to tell that story, even if I'm starting to believe it's more than just a tale."

"Suppose it is true," Thorin started, "And the stone in your pouch is both of ours to claim, what will you do?"

Gemma put her face in her hands. "I don't know," she told him, her voice muffled.

Thorin shifted closer to hear her over the sound of the water rushing towards the ground. "You told Gandalf that you knew things, important things."

Gemma looked up at him still sitting on top on the ledge, but a few feet closer to her. "I did," she said hesitantly.

"Do you know what the Arkenstone is to me, what is it to my people?"

Gemma frowned, but told him, "I know what you think it is. I know why you think it's important."

Thorin's brow furrowed. "Are you deflecting the question on purpose?"

"I…" Gemma took a deep breath. "Honestly, I don't know how much I should tell you."

Thorin swung his leg off of the barrier and hopped to the ground. He landed with a solid thud, taking two steps to reach Gemma's side. He stood right in front of her and said, "So you do know the future."

Gemma was afraid to say yes, but did not want to say no. She had thought she knew his future, and his past, too, if you wanted to be technical, but her dream about the battle had turned what she thought she knew onto its head. In the Trollshaws, Gemma had realized that Thorin Oakenshield, a real, living person, would die a regrettable, but honorable death. Now, however, he might die. If his fate rested in her hands like Gandalf had not-so-subtly hinted, his death was probable, but no longer absolute. "I think," Gemma swallowed thickly, "I think I know of a possible future, but nothing is set in stone."

"And nothing is set about our stone," Thorin replied sarcastically after a moment.

Gemma gave a 'hmph', not entirely amused by his statement. She thought about the possible outcomes of her actions. If Elrond could not give her answers, there really was only one other option she could think of, even if it scared the shit out of her. "If you take me with you to Erebor, I think I could help you." Thorin opened his mouth, but Gemma stopped him, "I have stipulations, though."

"Erebor?" Thorin said angrily, still staring down at her. "Who told you of Erebor?"

"Didn't we just talk about me knowing the future? I know about your home and the dragon that took it from you. I know about the Arkenstone, about where it sat, about its former owners. Now that I think about it, I think I can safely say I know more of your past than of your future so you can stop all of your suspicious questioning," she finished with a huff.

Thorin rubbed his chin, his eyes wide. "Is it the stone that has told you this or are you a seer?"

She thought for a moment. It would be a lot easier to tell him this little fib then to explain the true origins of her knowledge. She didn't think he'd take being called a 'fairy-tale creature' well. "A little of both, I suppose. The stone told me about the wargs and the orcs before, but I knew the rest before I had the Ulunsuti."

"And how does that work exactly, the stone telling you these things?" Thorin asked skeptically.

She frowned, also skeptical. It was pretty ridiculous. Magic stones and dwarves and knowing the future. "Gandalf said it was looking for a release, like an outlet, of its powers. He said it asks and I must answer, which is pretty much what it feels like. It made me pull it out and use it so I said some words and poof! this vision ran through my head and I just knew what was gonna happen." She tucked a piece of hair behind her ears before saying, "It would have been nice if it could have told me sooner though. Those things got way too close for comfort."

Thorin hummed in agreement, considering her words carefully. "Does the stone tell you to go to Erebor?"

She nodded. "In a way, yes."

"What is it that you hope to find there?" he inquired distrustfully. "Why should we take a defenseless human girl across the Misty Mountains?"

Gemma stood up at his words, angry that he did not trust her. "I am not defenseless," she told him stubbornly, hands on her hips. "I need answers. I need to find a way home. That is all I want." Thorin scoffed and turned away from her. "Look," demanded Gemma sternly. "We want the same thing. I want to go home and you want to go home. We both need the stone to do that. Once I figure out how to get home, you can keep the stone and I'll be out of your hair. We'll both get what we want." She did not tell him that Smaug was the one with possible answers. Gemma figured that would be a deal-breaker for Thorin. There were a lot of reasons why he would have a problem with that part. The voice in her head tried to tell her that it wasn't Smaug that would solve her problems, but Ravenhill, yet Gemma refused to listen to it. She would go home and if she happened to save Thorin's life before doing that, bully for her. If not, Gandalf was right; he'd die anyways. Her stomach twisted at that thought and she tried not to feel guilty.

Thorin paced across the balcony for a few minutes. He had agreed with Balin earlier; Gemma was necessary to their journey because the Arkenstone was necessary and one could not come without the other apparently. Still, she looked so fragile, so breakable. Thorin's fate rested within her palms, more than he even realized.

"Alright." He stopped pacing and looked into her green eyes. "You mentioned stipulations?"

Gemma smiled. She was slightly relieved he had capitulated even though she would have found a way to go with them regardless of what he said. "Yes." Gemma straightened her shoulders and said seriously, "I require your trust Thorin Oakenshield. If I tell you something, you must believe me. I have no ulterior motives. I want nothing else but to return to my home, to my world. You cannot continue being suspicious of me all the time." Thorin crossed his arms defiantly and Gemma rolled her eyes. "I get that we're complete strangers, but the next time the stone tells me an orc pack is around the corner, you have to listen to me. I will not be shish-kabobbed just because you're a stubborn asshole."

Thorin smirked, "Shisk-kabobbed?"

"Ugh." Language-barriers, she thought acerbically. "It means skewered."

"Ah, anything else then?"

Gemma nodded. "Bilbo has to come, too."

"The burglar?" Thorin frowned. "His skills are no longer needed. With the Arkenstone, his contract is null and void."

"Then make another one. If Bilbo stays then I stay and if I stay, the stone stays."

Thorin glared menacingly. "The Arkenstone is mine."

Gemma shrugged as if she didn't care, "And the Ulunsuti is mine. We've played this game already. You must trust me when I say that Bilbo is important to your quest."

Thorin stared at the ground angrily, as if he was trying to pierce a hole into it with his glare.

Gemma waited for an answer, but when none came she said softly, "He will change the world, Thorin." He lifted his head, pointing his hard glare at her instead. "If you leave Bilbo Baggins here, you have damned us all," Gemma beseeched him.

Thorin's glare softened. "What do you know?"

Gemma shook her head, a fierce look in her eye. "If I told you, it could do just as much damage as leaving Bilbo behind."

Thorin seemed to take her words into consideration. He had been looking forward to relieving Bilbo of his fourteenth share of the gold beneath Erebor, but if he took Gemma with them then surely gaining the Arkenstone was worth the price. The dwarf nodded once then held out his hand. "I agree to your terms, Gemma Halvard."

Gemma looked at his large hand in front of her, wondering if she really knew what she was getting herself into. Gemma took his hand, feeling his rough, but warm fingers tighten over her own. His hand was so much bigger than hers, she noticed, it swallowed her own.

Thorin pulled her forward gently and said with a sneaky grin, "But you'll learn how to fight as well."

She blinked, still thinking about the way her hand felt in his. "What?"

He let go and turned around, walking towards the entrance of the balcony. Before he left her sight completely, he called out, a mischievous look still on his face, "You'll begin training after supper tonight."

"Training?" she squeaked, but he was already gone. What kind of training, she wondered. Gemma leaned back over the railing of the balcony, wishing the spray of the waterfall could reach her face. She had a feeling she'd made a deal with the devil. And though Thorin had no idea, Gemma knew that they were both in way over their heads.

…

Gemma remained on the balcony for some time. She thought about everything she would need to take with her: lots of food, medical supplies, clothes, a weapon, and perhaps some money. There was a lot to do and she wasn't sure how long they could stay in Rivendell. She hoped Elrond would donate some of those goods to her cause. If not she might have to get them along the way and she knew that there wouldn't be another 'safe' stopping place until they reached Beorn and his house. Between Rivendell and there, though…Gemma shivered away from that thought. She'd worry about it when they were closer to that particular event. Maybe they could even avoid it all together.

She also thought about the stone and her mother's words that she'd recited. It was obviously the feelings Gemma associated with the words that drew the power out of it rather than the words alone. As if thinking about stone had summoned it, she felt a tiny flicker of fire curl in her palms. She waited for it to grow, but nothing else happened. Huh.

Gemma untied the pouch from her belt, taking the stone from its cover. It glowed within her hand instantly, which she expected. The slow familiar burn in her hand flared for a moment then dropped to a low steady level. It stayed that way, sitting calmly in her grasp as she stared at it trying to make it flare again. She tried telling it what to do in her mind. Show me how to get home, she commanded. Nothing happened. Show me the future, she tried again. She thought of her mother some more. "Do you like poetry?" she asked it snidely. "This is stupid. I'm talking to a pebble, expecting it to answer me." The purple glow of the stone shimmered abruptly, as is twinkling in response. Ok, what the hell. She'd try more Norse then, like last time. Gemma cleared her throat and opened her mouth, but she cut herself off before she could say anything and sat down quickly. Seeing the future has not been very pleasant, she remembered, it had taken its toll. No use knowing what's going to happen if she cracked her head open on the pavement before she could tell anyone about it.

She leaned against the wall, looking down at the stone nestled in her hands as they laid in her lap. She thought of her mother, of her perfume lingering in Gemma's bedroom. She thought of her mother's brown hair wrapped around her tiny fingers as she watched her mother's lips wrap around strange words, and said, "The gods in Ithavoll meet together. Of the terrible girdler of earth they talk, and the mighty past they call to mind, and the ancient runes of the Ruler of Gods."

Just like before, the burning in her hand flared and raced to her heart as she said the words. She felt as if she would burst from the feeling of pulsing warmth that filled her chest. Once she began, she could not stop. It urged her on, demanding she finish what she started. She had to answer the stone's call. She'd completed the verse and images flashed through her mind swiftly, but there was no sense of urgency behind the scenes in her mind this time. It hurt less, too, like only one or two nails were being driven into her skull instead of a whole slew of them.

She saw Elrond, Gandalf, and Saruman sitting around a stone table on a terrace outside. A black sword, the Morgul blade Radagast had brought to Gandalf from Dol Guldur, lay uncovered on the table. A beautiful shining lady in white watched the trio of men from a few feet away. She stood near the edge of the terrace, her white blonde hair waving in the wind. Gemma couldn't make out what the White Wizard was saying to the other two so she focused on the elven lady. She shined as if starlight lingered beneath her skin. The lady's long white gown looked to be made of white fire and her hair was woven with moonlight. Galadriel, Gemma realized. This was Galadriel; Lady of Light, indeed. The lady seemed to turn, as if she could sense Gemma watching her. Gemma was watching her face when Galadriel looked up and Gemma felt as if the lady was staring into her soul. "Welcome, Keeper of the Stone," the lady whispered inside Gemma's head and Gemma came out of the vision as if hit by a train, seeing the stone pavement rushing towards her face.

Her head hit the ground and she let out a low pain-filled groan. Next time she was doing this in a soft, pillowed bed. The burn left her chest and hovered softly in her hand where her skin touched the stone as if waiting to be released once more. Gemma sat up slowly, putting the stone back into the pouch. She would definitely need to sleep before she attempted that again. So…Galadriel was coming to Rivendell, then. Gemma didn't know what to make of this. Did that happen in the story? How much would change in Gemma's Middle Earth from the Middle Earth's she'd read about? Was it changing because of Gemma or did Tolkien forget something?

"Gemma, what are you doing in the dirt?"

Gemma looked up to see Annúnel giving her a curious look from the doorway and tried to come up with a good excuse. She let herself down when her reply was, "Uhmm, I fell?"

The elf laughed softly and walked towards her, holding out a hand. Gemma took it with a quick "thanks" and her friend led Gemma to find some lunch.

…

"Annúnel?" Gemma started.

"Hmm?" the elf answered softly as they walked.

"I am going on a long journey and did not come prepared. Do you think Lord Elrond would let me borrow some supplies?"

Annúnel patted Gemma's shoulder reassuringly. "He has already called for preparations to be made. After lunch, we will visit a seamstress." Gemma sighed in relief. "He also requested I take you to see the Master of Armaments, but I wasn't sure if you would feel comfortable doing so."

Gemma shrugged, "I'll need a way to defend myself. My father taught me how to hunt with a bow when I was younger, but it's been a while since I've practiced."

"I'm sure we can find something suitable, but first, lunch. A young knight told me he was looking forward to eating with a proper lady," the elf said with a fond smile on her face.

Gemma laughed, remembering the young boy she'd met before breakfast. "Estel is most magnanimous," she said snootily, causing Annúnel to burst out a laugh of her own.

"Lord Elrond's ward is a hand-full, but he's a good boy, if not a bit of a rascal."

They'd reached the lower level of the house and Gemma could smell something delicious that made her stomach growl. Before they reached the dining hall, Gemma asked her friend, "Estel, what does that mean?"

The lady smiled and simply said, "Hope."

"Hope?" Gemma repeated. They entered the room filled with several long tables. Many elves were scattered here and there sitting and talking with one another.

"Ah. There he is," Annúnel said, pointing to a boy with long dark hair waving ecstatically at them.

"Estel means hope," Gemma muttered and wanted to groan at her stupidity. Of course Aragorn would be here, she thought, frustrated at herself. How had she not realized it before? What other important things would she—had she—missed?

They sat across from the small boy who started chatting immediately about what he'd been up to since Gemma had last seen him. Gemma watched him bounce up and down excitedly as he told them about training with his sword and playing hide and seek with his brother, Elrohir, and seeing a small rabbit by the fountain and "Have you ever pet a rabbit, Lady Gemma?" and how his favorite lunch contained blueberries, but the stew they were eating was good enough and maybe they could play after lunch and he could show them his favorite tree.

Gemma just sat there listening, replying when need be, slightly overwhelmed by the speed at which he could talk. She was having trouble connecting this adorable kid with chubby cheeks to the hardened ranger he would grow up to be. Gemma was beyond happy that she got a chance to meet him. He was kind and considerate even for a child. She wished for a moment that he could stay like this, stay innocent and protected, obsessing over rabbits and blueberries forever. Had she ever been this lively and excited about the small wonders of the world?

The three of them finished eating and went out to the fountain where Estel had seen the rabbit. When they couldn't find it, Annúnel told Estel that they had to get Gemma some new clothes and he eagerly followed. Asking questions about why she needed new clothes and was it because she grew out of them because Ada was always complaining when he grew out of his clothes. Gemma and teased him, telling him he'd be the tallest knight to be sung about once he finished growing. Estel seemed perfectly fine with that legacy.

They reached the seamstress and Gemma was measured from head to toe while her elven friend told the stern lady holding the measuring string what Gemma needed. Gemma made sure to tell the lady that breeches were required and Annúnel suggested thick material for horse-back riding. It took longer than Estel had patience for so he went off in search of another adventure with a wave. Annúnel was dragging Gemma out of the seamstress's shop as Gemma called out a "Thank you!" never even realizing Gemma hadn't gotten her name.

The Master of Armaments was waiting for them in a room on the other side of the row of buildings that made up the market-like place in Rivendell. They had not given the seamstress any money, but Annúnel told her they traded in goodwill and faith rather than monetary means which Gemma thought that meant they only took as much as they gave back. On their way to find her a bow or some other weapon, they happened across Bilbo who'd been wondering in and out of the stalls and buildings looking at everything curiously.

"Hello, Miss Gemma!" He called kindly, not too far off.

"Hello, Bilbo. How's your morning been?" Gemma asked when they reached him. Bilbo had had a fine morning indeed. He'd had tea before lunch, which he had not been able to do for a month, and then been wondering around the valley, chatting with the very nice elves he'd encountered.

Gemma introduced him to Annúnel, who seemed very interested in the Hobbit. She asked him about the Shire and Gemma listened to the two reminisce about plants until they reached a blacksmith. Bilbo stopped there saying something about his sword and Annúnel led her next door to get her a proper bow.

The Master of Armaments was more talkative than the seamstress. He asked Gemma about the bow she'd learned to shoot with and the type of wood and string it had been made of. They soon found her something similar. It was about as twice as long as her arm, curving very slightly. The string, Annúnel told her afterwards, was made from elven hair. It was made from a light-colored wood with little in the way of decorative carving except for the outline of three little birds, wings outstretched, at one end of the bow. She'd also been given a light-weight quiver that held several arrows made from the same kind of wood. When Gemma had thanked him profusely, he handed her a small knife, no longer than her forearm, which could be hidden under her sleeve when she wore the proper clothes.

After getting her clothing and means of defense out of the way, Gemma was so relieved to not have to worry about finding them somewhere else that she'd forgotten what Thorin had told her she'd have to do after dinner.

A/N: First, let me say apologize for this chapter. It's definitely not my best and I'm not at all happy with it, but I wanted to post something since I missed my usual posting of every-other-day due to my awful living situation. I had a super shitty weekend and my heart wasn't in it at all, but on the plus-side, in an attempt to escape from my sorrows, I watched the whole first season of Daredevil and Marco Polo on Netflix. They were amazing and I highly recommend them, but I will warn you that they both have a lot of gore and super dark moments. They also both feature an old blind man teaching the protagonist Kung Fu, which I thought was a weird coincidence. Anyways, I'm really sorry that you had to wait for this chapter. I tried to make up for it with the Thorin/Gemma interaction. Let me know if it worked out ok. When I re-read it, I can see my emotions and exhaustion leaking over into my writing and I tried to scrape as much of my slimy, gross sadness as I could, but I'm not sure if I was effective. I'll do better on the next chapter, I swear. I love you all, don't give up on me. As always, this is not beta'ed so all mistakes are mine. Shout out if you see something.

To OakenFig3, woah. I don't even have the words to tell you how much that means to me. I work/ed so hard to make Gemma a real character. I really wanted her to have a background that would motivate her in such a way that she can survive in this world, even reluctantly. I needed her to not be white. I'm sick of white OCs with no actual character of sense of self that just accept what's happening without motives of their own. My grandmother's Cherokee and told me stories all the time and I thought using those legends to bolster Gemma's world, making them come true to could be really fun. I have a lot of fun with Gemma when she's running her mouth. I try to keep her reigned in, but she gets super sassy when she's scared and angry and it makes me laugh. You guys seem to like it so I'm trying to incorporate it more. And about Thorin, I also tried really hard to not make this into a story where he's a complete jerk to her, but then they fall in love so it's all ok. I'm not about that at all. Thorin's an asshole yes, but he's got to have some loveable qualities for Gemma to find redeeming. She's not some simpering wall-flower that would just feint at Thorin's feet after he yells at her. This isn't love-at-first-glare. You're review made me so happy. We're now officially best friends. I'm afraid you have no choice in the matter, sorry (not sorry).

Ok, precious acorn babies, leave me a review and thanks to all who faved/followed/reviewed so far!

Thanks for reading!