Quick thing: I forgot to mention that what Gemma quoted last chapter was from the Völuspá of the Poetic Edda. So sorry! Now, on with the show.

Chapter Nine: No rest for the weary

Annúnel left Gemma to her own devices so that she could tend to some of her other duties and Gemma was glad for the reprieve. She liked her new friend very much, but Annúnel set a quick pace. Gemma knew that the elf was just trying to help her prepare quickly since neither of them knew when Gemma and the dwarves would have to leave, but her feet hurt from walking on stone paths without shoes all day. While Annúnel had assured Gemma that her boots would be cleaned by the time she got back to her room, Gemma knew that the blisters forming on her soles would pain her regardless. The use of the stone's magic earlier had worn her out as well and Gemma hoped she could spend all of tomorrow in bed.

Gemma found a wooden bench sitting beside one of the paths that led away from the market stalls and sat down with a muffled groan. She still had the bow and quiver of arrows she'd gotten from the Master of Armaments and she laid them gently on the ground next to her feet. The knife he'd given her had gone straight into Gemma's pouch with the stone, lest she cut herself caring it around. Gemma took a moment to enjoy the stillness of the area around her. The trees were thick along the path and they shut her away from sounds and sights. She could hear the distant chirping of birds in the branches far above her head. Taking a deep breath, Gemma inhaled the earthy smell of dirt and plants. The nature surrounding her here comforted her much more than in the Trollshaws, for good reason, too. It wasn't just the lack of trolls, though, that made Rivendell more peaceful. There was something in the air, be it magic or a lack of evil or whatever, that made Gemma's heart warm and calm. She could understand why Bilbo would choose not to leave after coming here a second time, especially after holding onto an evil-possessed ring for sixty years.

Although the trees, or even the flowers, weren't anything like the ones from home, just the sound of wind filtering through their leaves, a gentle music of its own, was enough for Gemma to find contentment on that bench. She'd lost track of the amount of time she'd spent simply sitting, watching her toes make designs in the dirt beneath the bench as the wind rustled her hair. Gemma tried not to think of her impending trek across Middle Earth or the sense of doom that tried to overwhelm her senses anytime her mind wandered to thoughts of the future weeks to come. The next time she lifted her eyes to look at the sky, the sun had dropped further in the sky than she realized. Gemma was contemplating on whether she should get up or wait until someone came looking for her when the option was taken out of her hands.

A soft rustle of fabric as Elrond sat next to her on the bench was all the warning Gemma received before she noticed his presence. She turned to look at him, giving him a small smile that he returned, before dropping her gaze to her feet once more. They sat there in silence for a few moments and had it been Gandalf next to her, he'd have pulled out his pipe already. Gemma sighed quietly. "I'm guessing you didn't find anything else about the stone."

Elrond shook his head, but Gemma didn't see it so he said softly, "Nothing of note."

Gemma nodded, still twirling her toes in the dirt. Elrond laid a hand on her shoulder and Gemma looked up. His eyes looked concerned as he told her, "I fear for you, Gemma Halvard. I have seen some of what troubles you. Despite what the wizard tells you, you do have a choice."

Gemma, though grateful he cared, was not reassured by his words. "If I don't go with them to Erebor, is there somewhere else that can tell me how to get home?" she asked the elf sternly.

He took his hand back. "I am sorry I could not help you find what you seek, but I was too hasty in my council earlier. Dragons cannot be reasoned with and Smaug even less so." He paused and Gemma waited for him to continue. "You are welcome to stay here, in my home, should you wish it." Elrond grinned slightly, "Estel told me about how he saved a dark-skinned princess from starving to death this morning. He would be overjoyed should you stay."

Gemma was stunned. Stay in Rivendell? What a thought. Sure, Bilbo had done it—would do it, sort of, but Gemma had never considered actually staying herself. She took a deep shaky breath, a hint of… lavender perhaps, was now in the air. She could stay with the elves, watch them remain unchanged as she grew old and wrinkled. Estel would grow up and leave soon, but maybe if she was lucky she would see the Fellowship. She would see Gloin and Bilbo again, possibly get to meet the other heroes of Middle Earth before they left Rivendell and her behind to save the world. It would be so easy to just stay, to let this world pass her by as she did nothing but enjoy the wonders of the valley. Could she let it happen though, knowing how things played out? Gemma didn't think she could simply wait to grow old and die while others, people she now knew, risked their lives to defend their home. A home, something Gemma would abandon if she stayed. There was nothing for her in Imladris but a lifetime of regrets and displacement.

"It means a lot that you would offer me a place in your home, but I cannot stay. I don't belong here even if the offer is sorely tempting." She gave him a wide smile and went on, "I don't think you could handle me and Estel being in Rivendell for too long anyways."

The elf chuckled. "Regardless of how you feel, you are always welcome here."

Gemma tilted her head and asked curiously, "Why?"

He smirked and said, "Perhaps it is because you keep the boy out my hair."

Gemma snorted and muttered, "Not for long," thinking of Estel's endless amount of energy.

"The Valar brought you to Middle Earth for a reason, Miss Halvard, and I would ensure your safety here if I could. However, you must choose your own path; your fate is your own."

"It doesn't feel that way. I did not choose to come here," she said a little resentfully.

He shifted his weight on the bench. "Did you not? What did you wish for when you touched the stone? What was your heart longing for before you landed in the Trollshaws? An escape, perhaps? A way to change something you had no control over?"

Gemma stared at him. Elrond was too insightful for Gemma's peace of mind. "How do you…?"

The elf shrugged slightly. "I've had many years to experience the matters of the heart and I look closely at all who enter the valley. It is mine to protect, just as the stone is now yours." He pointed at her pouch.

Gemma looked around at the trees beside her and whispered, "With great power comes great responsibility."

"Just so," agreed Elrond.

She thought about her dream again. "Do you know what happens when the dwarves reach Erebor?"

"I have seen glimpses into Thorin's future, but you've changed the possible outcomes. His ending is now clouded in my mind."

Gemma shuddered at the weight of that particular burden and asked him, "If I told you that they will need your help, would you help them?"

Elrond seemed to hesitate before answering, "If I can defend Middle Earth against its foes, I will do so."

Gemma nodded. "A great battle will happen after…we reach Erebor. Orcs, trolls, goblins, and all the other gross monsters try to take the mountain and many people will die. I think it might make a large difference should you bring people to help defend a significant seat of power in the East."

Elrond rubbed his forehead wearily. "This…will make a difference?"

"Yes, it…the mountain—ugh. This whole knowing the future thing sucks." Gemma sighed heavily.

"I understand, I think. Do you know when the mountain will be attacked?"

Gemma shook her head in frustration, "Not exactly, but it happens soon after Durin's Day."

Elrond nodded and stood up. "I will see what help I may be."

Gemma looked up at him and nodded as well. "I understand, thank you." She stood up from the bench and Elrond offered her his elbow. Gemma grabbed her new bow and quiver from the ground, putting them over her shoulder before taking his arm and they started walking down the path. "Please don't tell anyone, though," she implored.

Elrond patted her hand in reassurance, something elves seemed fond of doing. "I know the importance of silence in these matters."

Gemma scowled, "Yes, I'm sure you do."

Elrond raised his eyebrow at her expression. "It does get easier, with time," he told her.

Her scowl deepened. "Keeping secrets? I hope so. It's difficult to keep track of who knows what and who should know what."

"We all must bear our burdens."

"But some are heavier than others," she inserted.

Elrond merely nodded and they kept walking until they entered a small courtyard. He led her through it and down a path branching to the left until Gemma heard loud voices not far away. She grinned at the familiar sounding ruckus. "Foisting me off onto another party, then?"

The elf chuckled lightly. "I merely thought you'd enjoy the company of a more…lighthearted group." Gemma heard loud bursts of laughter.

"Well, they do sound like they're having fun," she said and they heard loud crash of wood breaking.

Elrond frowned, "Indeed."

Gemma just shook her head in exasperation and withdrew her arm from his. "Thank you, Lord Elrond."

He bowed his head slightly and left after saying, "Until tomorrow, Gemma Halvard."

Gemma was welcomed into the small pavilion where she'd eaten breakfast with a few shouts of greeting from some of the dwarves, the ones whose mouths weren't occupied with food or laughter. She sat down besides Bilbo who was sitting a little off to the side, trying his best to avoid the bits of bread and meat the dwarves were throwing at each other. The crash she'd heard earlier looked to be from a poor squashed and broken table that Bombur still sat on top of, munching happily away on a sausage. Bofur and Bifur sat close to a fire, the latter attempting to roast some very green kale. Thorin and Balin were missing from the feast, she noticed.

Bilbo handed her a plate with what looked like grapes and half a loaf of bread on it. "I think the rest of the food has been claimed," he said guiltily. Gemma took it gratefully.

"Thanks Bilbo, this'll tide me over until tomorrow." He gave her a disbelieving look, his wide eyes making her giggle.

"Trust me, I don't have a hobbit's endless pit of a stomach," she told him with a wink. Bilbo blushed and muttered something about not even having dinner after supper. Then the hobbit noticed her uncovered feet.

"Where are your boots?" he asked, sounding distraught. "Your feet are so small!" He leaned closer to peer at Gemma's feet. "And your soles are so thin! How did you walk all day without shoes?"

Gemma smiled warmly at his concerned. "Bilbo, my feet are fine. One day without shoes won't kill me. I'll wear them tomorrow, don't worry."

Bilbo looked ready to protest, but before he could, Kili plopped down next to her, wine spilling from the cup in his hand. It nearly missed her head and she let out a noise of disapproval, scooting away from him. "Watch it," she said.

"Sorry 'bout my brother," Fili said, walking over to the trio. He rubbed Kili's head, messing up his hair, "He's clumsy around women."

Kili scoffed and pushed Fili's hand away.

"Where is your uncle?" Gemma asked the pair, ignoring Fili's teasing.

Kili looked around the group of dwarfs, noticing for the first time Thorin wasn't there. "How'd you know Thorin was our uncle?"

Gemma smirked, "Don't you remember? I know things."

"What kind of things?" Bilbo piped up.

"All kind of things," she said mysteriously.

Fili laughed and said, "You don't know anything."

Gemma was not particularly competitive, but she did not like being dismissed so easily so she said, "Ask me something you don't think I would know then."

The three men sat thinking for a moment, interested in her challenge.

"What's my favorite color?" Kili tested.

Gemma rolled her eyes and said, "Blue."

Kili's eyes widened, "Lucky guess."

She just plopped a grape in her mouth and chewed silently.

Fili hit his brother upside his head, "Your cloak's blue, you idiot." Kili looked down at said cloak, blushing, and Gemma snickered.

"She did know I was from the Shire," Bilbo told them tentatively. Gemma nodded, preferring this train of thought. "Do you know where in the Shire I live?"

"You live," Gemma said pointedly, "In Hobbiton, in a lovely hole at the end of Bagshot Row named Bag End."

Bilbo's mouth opened, but he didn't say anything so Gemma went on. "And, if I remember correctly, you'd just painted your door a nice green before Gandalf went and carved a sigil into it."

The hobbit looked stunned. "What else do you know?" he asked her.

"I know that you weren't prepared for a troop of dwarfs to come around for tea," Gemma looked at the brothers who were watching her curiously, "but really, who would be. You weren't prepared to find a strange wizard on your doorstep either, yet you remembered his fireworks. Most of all, though, you weren't prepared to be conscripted into going to steal from a dragon, making you forget your handkerchiefs."

Oin and Gloin were sitting closest to Gemma and the three others who sat listening to her speak. They overheard what she'd said about Bilbo being asked to steal from a dragon and they shuffled closer her to hear what else she had to say. "How did you know that?" Kili asked suspiciously.

Gemma shrugged and said smugly, "I just do."

"Bullshit," Fili said with a grin spreading across his face. "She's leadin' us on."

Bilbo coughed loudly at hearing the dwarf swear in the presence of a lady, but Gemma didn't seem to mind. "Alright," Kili remarked. "Do me then."

Gemma gave him a funny look until he blushed again. "You know what I mean," he mumbled.

"What did I say?" Fili teased. "You're worse than Ori, falling over yourself and blushing like a tomato in front of a girl."

Oin and Gloin chortled while Gemma giggled at Kili's reddening face. "Oh, get on with it already," Kili told her.

Gemma pursed her lips in thought. "Hmm…Ok, your mother's name is Dis. You're Thorin's heir, after Fili, of course, and you've never seen Erebor. You were born in the Blue Mountains. You're good with a bow and are usually the one Thorin sends to scout ahead because you're eyes are the youngest, but I suspect after you and Fili lost the ponies he won't be so keen to do so next time."

It was Fili's turn to blush at the reminder of that particular mishap.

"Do you know these things because of the Arkenstone?" Oin asked before Kili could come up with a retort.

Gemma shook her head, "Not really."

"Are you a seer?" Bilbo inquired. Gemma thought on that for a minute. Thorin had asked her that as well, but if she was going to go along with it she might as well make it her own.

"In my world," Gemma started, "you might call me a spákona or a spae-queen, though these are similar to a seer."

"A spae-queen?" said a voice behind her. Gemma turned to look and noticed the rest of the company had been listening to her 'bullshit'. This time she blushed. Maybe it wasn't the smartest decision to boast about her knowledge in front of the very people whose fate she hoped to change.

"So you're royalty then?" asked Ori quietly.

Gemma's eyes widened and she shook her head in protest. "No—"

"You didn't say you were a queen of your United States!" proclaimed Dori.

"That's because I'm not—," she tried to explain.

"So you're married to the king then?" asked Bofur and he waggled his eyebrows. "What's he like?"

Gemma huffed in agitation, "I'm not married! I'm only twenty-three, for goodness sake."

"Twenty-three? Years? You're just a child," exclaimed Gloin.

"I'm not a child! Humans age faster than dwarves, thank you very much," Gemma argued.

"Still, very young to be a queen," declared Bombur and they all nodded in agreement.

Gemma did not like where this was going. "I didn't say I was a queen. The word is spae-queen. There's a difference," she insisted, but the majority of them had stopped paying attention. They were all talking amongst themselves about dessert and the proper age of queens. It was only Fili and Bilbo who stayed by her side so she told them desperately, "I'm not a queen or any sort of royalty, I swear. I just know things."

Bilbo nodded and sweetly told her, "I believe you."

Fili grinned and said, "I know you're not a queen."

Gemma looked at him, confused. "You do?"

"Yeah, you curse too much to be a queen," he told with a smirk.

Gemma laughed. "Damn straight," she said. Bilbo coughed again.

After Gemma had finished what food Bilbo had given her, Fili asked her, "Where'd you get your bow?"

Gemma looked at it on the ground where she'd laid it once she sat down and picked it up. "One of the elves gave it to me." Fili held out his hand, silently requesting to take a look. He ran his fingers over the wood and the tiny engraving of the birds. He pulled back the string and pretended to aim.

"It is well-made. Do you know how to use it?

"My father taught me a long time ago, but I should remember the basics well enough."

Fili handed the bow back to her. "My uncle asked that I help you learn to fight after supper, but my best skills lie in knife and sword fighting, not archery."

Gemma wanted to groan. She'd forgotten what Thorin had sneakily demanded of her when they made their deal, but she supposed it couldn't hurt…much. She reached into her pouch and showed Fili the knife. He approved.

"It fits you well, but I think you should stick with archery tonight. I can't teach you to dodge blades in a dress." Gemma hadn't thought of that. She put the knife back into the pouch.

"Kili is the best archer among us. He can give you pointers," Fili paused to look at his brother teasing Ori across the fire pit in the middle of the pavilion. "If he can contain his blushes" Fili finished. Gemma chuckled. Fili stood up, calling his brother over. He spoke to Kili too quietly for Gemma to hear and Kili nodded then turned to give her a wink. These boys will be the death of me, she thought and she stuck her tongue out at Kili impishly, but he just laughed.

Kili gave her a deep bow and said, "Come on, queenie. We'll find a place to practice."

So Gemma, with her bow and arrows in hand, and the two young brothers walked out of the pavilion in search of a good tree to use as a target. They found a large one with several knotted branches hanging from its sides. They walked about seventy paces away from it and Kili said, "Let's start here." Gemma swung the bow from her shoulder and set the quiver at her feet, grabbing a slim arrow to notch on the string. She set her sights on one of the lower branches of their designated tree and pulled back to aim. She fired her arrow swiftly, but the wind dragged it to the right and her arrow fell limply about ten feet away from her. Gemma stomped over to retrieve it and tried again. This time she took a moment to account for the wind and fired again. Her aim was true, but she still fell short of the tree. Gemma took another arrow from the quiver, pulled back a tad bit farther on the string and let her arrow fly. It hit the knot she'd been eyeing with a dull thunk! and she was tempted to squeal in excitement. She didn't think she would be that successful after so many years without practice.

Kili told her to move further from the tree and Gemma stepped another fifty paces back. She shot several arrows, but could not hit the tree. She really didn't get much further than she'd shot before. Kili kept giving her advice, and while he helped her improve, it was not enough to keep Gemma from moaning in frustration when she'd used all her arrows without hitting the tree again. By the time she retrieved them, the sun had set too low for her to see well enough to continue so they walked back the way they had come.

"You're much better than I thought you'd be," remarked Kili.

"Gee, Kili, thanks ever so much," Gemma told him, rolling her eyes.

Kili shrugged, "We'll practice again tomorrow."

"Yeah," Fili interrupted, "you can work on shooting moving targets, like Kili."

"Hey!" Kili protested and punch his on the arm with a solid thwack. The two proceeded to wrestle and punch their way back to their fellow dwarves while Gemma followed behind, careful not to get too close to their flailing limbs.

They passed a stair case and Gemma saw a light at the top of it. She paused, the brawling brothers continuing down the path not noticing she'd fallen behind. Gemma heard Gandalf's distinct voice filtering down from the stairs so she crept up them slowly, doing her best to remain silent.

"Of course, I was going to tell you," Gemma heard Gandalf say, "I was waiting for this very chance. I-I think you can trust I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?" Elrond's voice answered him. "That dragon has slept for sixty years. What will happen if your plan should fail, if you wake that beast?"

"And if we succeed?" Gandalf argued. "If the dwarves take back the mountain, our defenses in the east will be strengthened."

"Yes, the girl mentioned that as well, but it is a dangerous move, Gandalf."

Gemma reached the top of the stairs and waited there, her back pressed against the wall, listening to the two argue on.

"It is also dangerous to do nothing." Gandalf said angrily. "Oh, come. The throne of Erebor is Thorin's birthright. What is it you fear?" Gemma started to peek around the corner, but a hand wrapped around her mouth, pulling her back. Gemma tried to yell, but the sound was muffled by the calloused hand on her face. She swung around. It was Thorin. He held a finger to his lips and nodded towards the voices. Her heart was still racing from the scare he gave her so she swatted his arm in reproach as they both listened to Elrond's reply.

"Have you forgotten?" the elf asked. "A strain of madness runs deep in that family. His grandfather lost his mind. His father succumbed to the same sickness. Can you swear Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall?" Gemma looked at Thorin as he stared hard at the ground, his fist clenched. "Gandalf, these decisions do not rest with us alone," Elrond finished.

"No, they rest with the girl and that stone," Gandalf countered. Gemma gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. Thorin looked up at her, surprised.

"You cannot place the fate of a kingdom, or of Middle Earth, in the hands of a human child," Elrond said reasonably.

"I am not the one who has done so. The Valar have a will of their own." Gandalf told him sharply. "With or without our help, Gemma and the dwarves will march on the mountain. They're determined to reclaim their homeland, perhaps the girl most of all." Their voices continued back and forth but they drifted away quickly until both Thorin and Gemma could no longer hear them.

They stood there, staring at each other. Thorin stepped closer to her and whispered, "What did he mean?"

Gemma shook her head, feigning confusion, "I don't know what you're talking about."

He looked down at her coldly, his arms hanging down straight at his sides with his fists still clenched. "Why would the fate of my kingdom rest with you?" he breathed fiercely.

This time Gemma did not lie, "I don't know." She shook her head again, her hair swinging in her face. She pushed it back shakily. "I don't know," she repeated and twisted her hands together.

Thorin stopped her fidgeting by laying a heavy hand on top of her shoulder, gripping it tightly. He looked her in the eye, his own reflecting the moonlight shining brightly behind her. "If you have a chance to save my kingdom, will you take it?"

Gemma swallowed quickly, and looked away from his face, thinking frantically. She wanted to say no, to say she couldn't. She wanted to go home; she needed to go home. Gemma couldn't make promises to do otherwise. And she was going to tell him that very thing, but his grip on her shoulder lessened and he dropped his hand down her arm, grabbing her hand.

"Gemma," Thorin asked. She looked away from his hand holding hers and up to focus on his blue eyes once more. "If you have a chance to save my kingdom, will you take it?" his voice faltered at the end and Gemma's resolved melted away.

"If," Gemma started slowly. "If I have the chance to save your kingdom, I will try," she swore.

Thorin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, still holding onto her hand. "Should that come to pass, by Mahal, I will be in your debt forever." He kissed the top of her knuckles swiftly then turned around and went down the steps two at a time, leaving her standing at the top, hand still hovering in the air.

"What the hell just happened?" Gemma asked, eyes wide. She looked down the stairs where Thorin had disappeared from and dropped her hand. "Well, fuck."

She amazingly found her way back to her room on her own, not brave enough to face the dwarves or Thorin after making the worst promise of her life. Well, besides promising her father that she'd take care of that Ulunsuti. She threw the stone, still in its pouch, onto the bed at that thought. It was the stone's fault she was in this mess to begin with. None of this would have happened had it stayed dormant and just let her bury it back in the ground. Then she'd be at her father's house, still mourning his death. She paused in her undressing, maybe she was better off in Middle Earth after all. Maybe Elrond was right, maybe she'd wanted to be somewhere else so bad that the stone had heard her wish and brought her to a different world altogether. Maybe it was her own fault. Just like it was her own fault that Thorin now expected her to save Erebor.

"Damn it!" she yelled.

A knock sounded on her door and Gemma ran her hands over her cheeks; they felt flushed. She opened the door and saw Annúnel standing there, her hand full and her eyes furrowed in concern.

"Are you alright, Gemma?"

Gemma held the door open and the elf stepped in the room, setting her burden on the bed next to Gemma's pouch. "I'm fine, just frustrated," she told Annúnel wearily.

"About what?" her friend inquired gently, turning to face her.

Gemma sighed, "About everything."

Annúnel smiled softly and hummed a non-committal response. The elf turned back towards the bed and began sorting through the items she had brought.

"What is all that?" Gemma asked her, stepping closer to look.

"They're supplies for your journey. I thought you might want to look at it all before I packed it away."

Gemma felt guilty for her rotten mood when her friend had gone to the trouble to help her so much. "Annúnel, thank you. I don't know what I'd do without your help."

The elf gave her a quick grin and then pointed at Gemma's new belongings. I brought you three pairs of clothes, socks, undergarments, and a cloak from the seamstress. In here," she held out a square wrapped in leaves, "is lembas."

Gemma took it from her and looked at the food inside. "Elvish waybread," she muttered with a smile. Annúnel nodded.

"There's also some dried fruits and a flask of water."

"Thank you, Annúnel" Gemma repeated before giving the elf a firm hug. The lady seemed surprised, but patted Gemma softly on the back in return.

"Here," the elf said once Gemma released her. She held out a small leather thing with two round hoops that looked bracelets, one at each end. "It's an arm brace to hold your knife." Gemma took it and tried it on.

"You think of everything. Thank you, again and again."

Her friend nodded firmly in reply then took Gemma's bag from the floor beside the bed and arranged the extra items inside of it. When she was done, she smiled at Gemma and told her 'goodnight' before leaving the room. Gemma finished undressing quickly, eager to take another dip in the wonderful bath next door.

When she'd finished, combed her hair and braided it as best she could and then she'd dressed in her new clothes: a pair of black leggings and a long dark green tunic that went down to mid-thigh. They were very comfortable and easy to move in; they would make decent pajamas. Thankfully, she'd spotted her original clothes and had put her bra and underwear back on, not yet brave enough to find out what posed as 'undergarments' in this world. She put her duffel bag back on the floor, out of the way, but then realized Annúnel had forgotten to give Gemma her boots back. She thought about waiting until the morning to hunt down her friend, but didn't fancy having to do it while half-asleep the next day.

She grabbed her stone still wrapped in the leather pouch and marched out the door to find Annúnel. She had not walked very far at all before she felt a distinct pull in her gut. Gemma looked at the pouch in her hand, but she didn't feel the familiar burn of the magic from the stone. She walked until she left the house, only pausing to consider the consequences of following the gut-feeling briefly. Regardless of what her mind told her not to do, she kept going, feeling a nudge in a certain direction every now and again until she stopped by a small stream that gurgled peacefully over smooth stones. Gemma was in a round clearing and there was an occupied bench near the stream. On the bench was the shining lady from her vision. She looked exactly the way the stone had showed her, but so much more at the same time.

Galadriel was difficult to look at, yet Gemma did not to look away. The Lady drew the eye with her light, like the moon. But, like the sun, it hurt to stare at her for too long.

"Why do I have the feeling you're early?" Gemma whispered.

The Lady patted the empty area on the stone bench beside her and Gemma towards her. "Perhaps it is because I am," Galadriel whispered back inside Gemma's head.

"Is it because of me?"

"Yes," Galadriel replied, her lips unmoving.

"You know, don't you? You know what I should do," Gemma said once she'd sat down, angling her body towards the shining Lady.

"I have seen who you are, who you have been, and who you might become, but I do not yet know what you will choose to do," Galadriel replied aloud.

Gemma's eyes filled with tears, her shoulders slumping. "Do you know how to send me home?" she asked with a hopeless sob.

"Yes." Gemma sat up straight at her reply. "And no," the Lady added.

"What do you mean?" Gemma questioned, swiping a tear away.

"You will find your way home, through one way or another, but you may not wish it was so at the end."

Gemma wiped another tear from her eye. "Are all elves this frustrating on purpose?" Gemma blurted out.

The lady laughed and, if it was possible, shined even brighter. "You will understand with time," she told Gemma.

"Why did you bring me out here?"

"I wanted to look at you, to see the girl from another world with her dragonstone," Galadriel proclaimed.

"So it is the Ulunsuti then?"

The lady nodded. "But it is also the Arkenstone. You did not need me to tell you that."

Gemma shrugged. "No, I guess not."

"Every world in connected through something, but that door will not remain open forever." Galadriel warned. "I will caution you against divulging more of your secrets, Gemma Halvard. Though, I think your heart offers the same advice."

Gemma thought of the promise she'd made to Thorin after they heard Elrond and Gandalf arguing about the fate of Thorin's kingdom. Gemma knew Thorin thought Erebor was in danger, but when Gemma said she'd try to save his kingdom, Gemma had been thinking of the Line of Durin and she swore to save it if she could. All because she opened her big fat mouth to the elf and the wizard in the first place. So Gemma sighed, but nodded at the Lady's words.

Galadriel placed her hand on Gemma's cheek, persuading the girl to look up at the Lady. Gemma felt small, but warm in her gaze. A curious look entered Galadriel's eyes as she looked at Gemma. "I will not give you counsel, saying do this, or do that…but I have faith you will become who you were born to be." Gemma blinked quickly at her words, comforted by their familiarity. Did the Lady know…?

Galadriel smiled beautifully and gently dropped her hand. "Go to sleep, little one. You will find what you're looking for." And when Gemma got back to her room, she tripped over her freshly-cleaned boots before climbing into her bed with a yawn and assumed that's what Galadriel had been talking about. She tucked the stone under her pillow and drifted off to sleep.

Gemma had a bird's-eye view of a small hill where a decrepit watch tower sat decaying on top of it. The moon shone brightly, highlighting the turret from above. It was not unlike the tower where she'd seen the mass of armies converge in the valley below Erebor. Before she could connect the two in her mind, however, her view changed suddenly. She was standing in the ruin now, but she was not alone this time. There were large wargs and orcs surrounding her and she scrambled to back in fear, but they didn't even glance her way. She realized this was a dream, a horrible nightmare, but was thankful for her autonomy this go-round. A loud deep voice barked a command and one of the orcs moved out of the thick crowd to stand in front of rest. Gemma followed him—at least she thought it was a 'him'—careful to move between the orcs without touching them, but they took no notice of her. When she'd ducked around all of the hideous beasts, she saw a massive creature with scars covering its pale body. His ears were pointed like an elf's, but that is where the similarities stopped. He had no hair that Gemma could see and he wore little clothing, only a dark leather kilt wrapped around his waist that matched his dark heavy boots. Part of his left arm was missing, but he'd replaced it with a sharp, crooked blade that was shoved through his muscled forearm. Gemma cringed. His eyes were a piercing ice-blue. His nose was so flat against his face and that, combined with his bald head, tempted Gemma to call him a Voldemort wanna-be, but the creature grabbed the orc he had called to the front harshly by the neck. He hoisted the shaking orc into the air with one hand all the while shouting at it in a harsh language that gave Gemma goosebumps. The orc said something and the white creature stopped his yelling, throwing the smaller orc to the ground.

The orc struggled to his feet and pulled out a dark cloth from a hidden pocket. He held it in the moonlight and Gemma gasped. It was her dress, the one she'd worn to her father's funeral! The pale monster took Gemma's dress from the orc, bringing it to his face. The brute breathed in deeply with his eyes closed and moaned deeply. Gemma's stomach turned over. 'Fuck, this is bad! Really, really bad!' she thought.

The creature strode over to an enormous white warg. It was immensely larger than the other wargs behind it. The pale orc thrust Gemma's dress under the white warg's snout and the warg sniffed it eagerly. Once it had gotten her scent, the large white orc then mounted the white warg and shouted an order that Gemma did not understand, but she could guess well enough what his intention. The wargs and orcs let out loud howls and shrieks, running out of the tower and down the hill.

"RUN," a voice in her head commanded.

Gemma woke with a shout of fear, breathing heavily. She threw off the bed sheets that clung to the sweat on her body, leaping out of bed and running out the door, her stone firmly in hand.

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A/N: "With great power comes great responsibility," is from Spiderman, which I don't own. The first part of what Galadriel says to Gemma at the end of their convo, "I will not give you counsel, saying do this, or do that…," is from Galadriel's speech to the Fellowship in the first book of Lord of the Rings and the last part, "become who you were born to be," is what Elrond tells Aragorn in the third movie when he tells him to "put aside the ranger." I don't own the LOTR books or the movies.

A spákona or spae-queen is simply a prophetess from Norse Mythology. Pretty much the same thing as a seer.

One of my best friends is getting married on Friday and I'm helping her get ready for it almost every single day this week so I probably won't have a lot of time to write. I'm not saying I won't be posting any chapters, but I make no promises that I will either. If nothing else, the next chapter should be posted by Sunday. I wrote an extra-long chapter because of this. You're welcome ;P

Did the conversation between Galadriel and Gemma meet your expectations? I tried to make her be as grand as she is in the movies and books, but it was hard for me to write. I redid it several times. Let me know what ya think!

Thanks for the faves and follows and thanks for reading, you golden rays of sunshine.