AN: Whoa! As of now there's 38 Alerts and 31 Favs for this story! Thank you! Any of you who has left a review—thank you in an even louder voice!

When I went into writing this story, I didn't think many people would be interested but I really liked the idea so I figured, I'd post it, just in case. I didn't expect to have come this far. I really thought that it'd taper off into the abyss of unfinished fanfics but you guys' encouragement has pulled this story up by its bootstraps. I love hearing everything you have to say, be it compliment, criticism or suggestion. (I couldn't think of a synonym that began with 'c')

So, let me know what you think of this chapter… something kind of important happens and I'd like to know your response and thoughts on it. :]

Cheers!

PS: Happy 50th Anniversary! You know who's I'm talking about!

Chapter IX

The Companion's Crux: Conquered

The morning brought a light dew that coated the meadow as well as its occupants. I groaned, wiping my face off and saw Thorin and Gandalf loading up the horses.

"Wha time izzit?" I mumbled, my voice hoarse and scratchy.

"Time to start moving," Gandalf answered with a smile.

"Urg."

All too soon, I found myself out from under my warm shell and back in the saddle as we clip-clopped along. The horses had to tread carefully as the wet grass made them often slip and slide down the slopes. Despite our mutual keenness to close the distance to the mountains, we had to slow our pace to prevent an injury to the horses—one twisted ankle and we'd be sent back a week into the travels.

I'm not sure if walking would have been preferable to this but right now, I'd bet it was. I didn't know how the guys were fairing but I was having an awful time. My thighs were chaffing against the saddle and for the umpteenth time, my butt had fallen asleep which was honestly a bigger problem than imaginable. It's not as if I were going to mention it and be like "Hey, we need to stop. I can't feel my rear end". So for the next few hours, I squirmed in my seat as discreetly as possible, trying to get some feeling back into my posterior.

And that was my day, really.

Well, most of it. I spotted a fox running down the hills that stopped to look at us before slinking off. I tried watching it as long as possible, just to get my mind off of things. Its scarlet fur shone in the sunlight as it tiptoed on its little black paws. Maybe it was hunting or just wanted to see us and our horses go by. I lost sight of it and figured it was hiding or—

Okay, this was enough! Even my legs were losing feeling! I had had it. As carefully as I could manage with a numbed lower half, I propped myself up on my knees in the saddle, using Gandalf's shoulder to balance myself.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" the Wizard asked, turning to look at me, perplexed.

Our horse came to a halt at his command as did Thorin's a few paces later.

"It's more comfortable this way," I explained. "Keep going, I'm coolio."

Gandalf continued to stare. I wasn't sure if he was trying to determine if I'd be safe kneeling like this or if he was trying to psych me out and make me act normal. Either way he shook his head and sighed. "If you fall off, Emily Parker, it'll be your own fault," he grumbled and nudged the horse forward.

I caught the scrutinizing look Thorin gave me before turning back to the trail. I did my best to ignore him and tried not to take it personally. This was Thorin; he's like this with everyone.

My almost circus trick was working, for the most part. I regained feeling in my lower extremities and the pins and needles fizzled away. The only downside was the beating my knees were taking as the thread of my thick stockings was embedding into my skin. Again I used the landscape to distract me from my aches and worries.

There were more trees and shrubs around us and the neat lawn that surrounded Hobbiton gave way to tall, unruly grass and tangles of reeds. It was like that for hours as we headed West, towards the mountains without much deviation in terrain. The skies were mottled with feathery clouds, layered in shades of white and grey.

The Blue Mountains drew nearer, or rather, we drew nearer to them. We angled our horses so that we faced the easternmost part of the range of mountains. I guess that was where the Dwarves lived or at least where the door was.

"How much longer do we have to go?" I asked, trying to sound more curious than whiny.

To my surprise, Thorin answered. "We have two days at least, should the horses hold up."

"How long till we get to the mountains?"

He glanced at me as he spoke. "By nightfall."

I smiled and nodded in thanks. I had a lot more questions but I didn't want to overload him and risk ticking him off. I wanted to get on his good side if I could and pestering him wasn't the way.

Soon, my knees were too sore to stay like that in the saddle so I gave him and sat down again like a normal person. It wasn't as bad as before; I suppose my butt just needed a break. I didn't know how long it would last so I tried to enjoy the ride while I could.

And then I caught sight of them as we marched over the hills.

In the distance stood three colossal towers—white and gleaming in the sun. My mouth gaped slightly. I had no idea what they were, aside from giant towers, of course.

Gandalf must've sensed my questions or, as I said before, went into tour guide mode. "Those are the White Towers, built by the Elven-king, Gil-galad, in the Second Age," he told me. "The tallest of the three is named Elostirion and from it, one can view the sea. It also holds a palantír, one of the rare seeing stones."

I bristled at the mention of the crystal ball as I looked at the far off tower. I remembered Sauron looking out through Sarumon's, being able to see whoever was near to it. "Does that mean anyone could be watching us right now?"

"Oh, no," the Wizard shook his head. "The palantír of Elostirion is not connected to the others of its kind in Middle Earth and only Elendil, for whom the tower was built, could use it. It is said to look westward, to the Undying Lands."

"Whoa," I breathed. I had almost no idea about this side of the map. "So then… are the Grey Havens close by?"

He nodded. "A bit past the White Towers, you will find the Grey Havens, along the Gulf of Lune."

I smiled briefly until I remembered the tearful goodbye at the end of The Return of the King. Thinking of Gandalf leaving made me feel crummy, even if it weren't for years and years. I know it was stupid but it was hard to shake the grip of melancholy from my chest.

This is right now, Emily. You're with Gandalf the Grey and Thorin Oakenshield. You had better make the best of it.

Just as Thorin had said, we came upon our destination by nightfall.

The Blue Mountains filled the horizon, tall and proud, as mighty and majestic as the Dwarves that inhabited them. It became quite clear as to how they got their name as the hues of the mountainside were shades of rich cerulean and deep cobalt. I had to crane my neck in order to see the snow capped peaks.

I grinned, a sublime feeling fluttering in my gut. "Wow."

It felt like forever but we finally reached the base of the mountains which was covered in a coniferous forest. It vaguely reminded me of home and, also, of my last memory of my world. I subconsciously grabbed onto Gandalf as if he'd anchor me to this reality should I be in threat of phasing out like before. Why was it always forests? The one near my home, Mirkwood, Chetwood… I had to be missing something, right? Maybe I should've told Gandalf more details no matter how fresh and frightening they were… That's even more reason, really. Someone had to know. If I disappeared again…

I let the thought die before it fully formed. As I normally did, I pushed my fears to the back of my mind, hoping that they'd either go away or that I'd have found a solution by the time they resurfaced again.

We followed a dirt trail up the mountain that started off alright but soon became very steep. The unsettled rocks made it difficult for the horses to keep from stumbling so we ended up having to get off and lead them through the worst of it. Thorin told us that the terrain would even out eventually but I sure didn't mind getting out of the saddle. Sure, my legs were sore as heck from the past few days but they had become so cramped and numb from the riding.

I walked beside Gandalf, not wanting to stand in between the horses. Honestly, I was a bit tired and even though I hadn't actually done much aside from breathe and blink, I felt like I could curl up on a rock and pass out. But I tried not to think about it. I didn't want to be the one to complain and moan. I just hoped they'd call it a day already.

The dirt trail eventually leveled out to a small clearing, and to my great relief, Thorin glanced around, turned to Gandalf and said, "We should make camp here. We will not find a more suitable place farther up the mountain."

The Wizard nodded. "Agreed."

I almost whooped for joy.

We followed the same routine as before. I walked off to gather stuff for the fire without being told—it was already much chillier than before and not even night. Being in a semi-forest meant that scavenging for firewood was easier. I snapped the branches in half before collecting them to make sure they were dried out. Once I had an armful, I headed back to camp. For a moment, I panicked, wondering if I'd suddenly find myself facing the hunter again but, I saw the horses in the distance and breathed. But my calm was short-lived as when I came into the clearing, I noticed someone was missing.

"Where's Gandalf?" I asked, my voice going a little high.

Thorin turned his eyes to me, gauging my reaction. "He's gone," he said simply.

"Gone?" I repeated.

"He said he would return and that was all," the Dwarf-king told me, sounding annoyed. "Does he often leave without explanation?"

I shrugged, starting to calm down. "Yeah, pretty much. Wizard habit, I think."

He made no reply and turned back to the fire he had started whilst I was gone. I was a tad put off, thinking that the fire was my thing and felt a little useless. "Uh, what should I do with this?" I asked, lifting the load in my arms.

Thorin glanced at me and nodded beside the fire. "We'll need it in the later hours."

Good. So my efforts weren't entirely pointless.

I began to unroll my mattress and set the things about which, honestly, took less than a minute. I kept smoothing out my wool blanket, just for the sake of doing something. Thorin was silent, sitting on a fallen log that was moved by the campfire. I wasn't really sure but he seemed upset by Gandalf's disappearance. If I didn't know better, he may have thought Gandalf was leading an ambush back to us, or into the Dwarf kingdom. I, on the other hand, had first assumed he was just going to the bathroom somewhere but now, I wasn't so sure. It had been awhile since he left and it felt as if he had an ulterior motive.

The sun had mostly gone down and the sky was bathed in darkness, aside from a sliver of crimson on the horizon. I bit my lip, feeling awkward despite Thorin's great ability to completely forget about my existence and get lost in his thoughts.

Oh, wait! Was this Gandalf's intention? To leave us alone so we could talk?

I carefully looked at Thorin and twisted my lips to the side. I really wasn't ready for this conversation. Honestly, I don't think I'd ever be. But the more I thought of it, the more I was convinced that's what had to be done. I thought of Thrain and he gave me courage. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to quell my restless stomach. For Thrain.

"Hey, Thorin…?"

He blinked as I took him from his thoughts and looked at me over the flames of the fire.

"Do you think we could talk?" I asked, forcing myself to keep speaking.

He nodded in consent and I decided to just go for it. I went and sat next to him on the log. My eyes stayed on the fire, afraid that I'd lose my words if I looked at him. "I want to tell you about how I met your father…"

Thorin was silent but out of my periph, I could see him staring at me, waiting.

"I guess I should start at the beginning, huh? Um… Well, I was in the Greenwood, traveling to meet Gandalf, actually," I began, trying not to cringe. I hated that I had to start with a lie. It felt wrong but I knew that Thorin wouldn't buy the real story. What transpired between Thrain and I was much more important than the details surrounding it.

"But I never met up with him. I must've got lost or something; I'd never been there before. It was dark and… really frightening to be honest. And then…" I paused, shaking my head. "Something found me out there. I couldn't see it but… I could feel it, you know? Just cold and… evil. The next thing I knew I was in a cell in some old prison… That's when I met Thrain. He had been there for years, held prisoner and… almost driven mad. Didn't even know his name."

"If that much is true, how is it you knew him to be the son of Thror?" Thorin asked slowly, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

I turned to him, looking into his eyes to show that I wasn't lying.

"Sometimes, I just know things… " I replied hesitantly. He'd never believe the truth and this was as close to it as I could come without sounding like a nutter. Well, I kind of did anyway. "That's why I was going to meet Gandalf. I had been with two other Wizards, studying under them."

"Gandalf told me of your life in the East," he nodded but I didn't think Thorin fully believed it. His eyes were hard, searching for signs of deception and I was worried that he'd find some. So instead, I focused on what I knew to be the truth.

"We couldn't escape the fortress," I continued, still meeting Thorin's gaze. "Thrain warned me against it, said it was dangerous but…I had to try. I… I found out the hard way that he was right. The prison, itself, wouldn't let me leave, there were these… these vines that stopped me and roughed me up… Still got the marks to prove it—oh!" An idea struck me and I quickly lifted the bottom of my shirt to show the bruises and scrapes that the vines left. "See?"

He leaned away from me slightly, probably uncomfortable at my somewhat indecent act, but eyed my injuries nevertheless. I needed him to see some proof of what I said, to show that I wasn't just BS-ing him. I dropped my shirt and went on.

"But that wasn't even the worst of it, though. Our captor was… far worse."

Thorin seemed like he wanted to ask a question and I had a feeling what it was.

"No idea who it was," I answered. "Or why he captured us… Just that he was pure evil. Some sort of spirit, I think. A really powerful dark spirit. He held us there and… it was awful. The whole place, it was just teeming with evil energy. It was like the more we stayed there, the more it soaked into us and drove us closer to insanity, giving him more power over us. I was only there for a few months, I think, and I could feel myself slipping… He got in our heads, in our nightmares, made us see things, horrible things, and feel unbelievable pain... Like we were being killed over and over but couldn't die. It was torture. If it wasn't for Thrain…"

My eyes teared up finally—I had been expecting it the whole time and was surprised they held off so long. I quickly looked away from Thorin and tried to control myself. It was odd; all I ever did was cry in front of Thrain yet now, next to his son, I didn't even want him to know I was capable of crying.

"If it wasn't for Thrain," I started again, my voice thick, "I'd probably have died or lost my mind. I don't know what I would've done without him… I really don't."

I had control over my voice again. "Thrain kept me going. He gave me strength when I was weak and I did the same for him, best as I could. He was my friend, the only other person alive for all I knew. It was like there was nothing and no one else outside of that prison. Just me and him."

I took the braid in my hand, turning the ornament over in thought. "He did this for me, said that… that he considered me like family," I said softly, for some reason too embarrassed to look at Thorin. "It was probably the last time he was himself… The dark spirit pushed him over the edge, drove him mad and made him sick somehow… It was real bad; he kept coughing up blood and… By the morning, he… wasn't in his right mind. He…attacked me and wouldn't hear me anymore... It wasn't his fault," I growled, suddenly protective of him, my hands clenching. "It wasn't him!"

I had to squeeze my eyes shut at the memory. The sight of Thrain's enraged face, the blood on the tiles, his cries and accusations, his still face…

I was grateful that Thorin didn't try to comfort me, whether due to indifference or inexperience, because if he had, I think I'd have lost it right there. It took another moment for me to pull myself together. The few stray tears I had shed were cool on my face and I quickly wiped them away. I took a deep breath before I tried to speak again.

"He," I started but my words cracked and fell apart. My voice was tight as my throat constricted against my will. I was confirming what Thorin had assumed for years—his father was dead. I was the bearer of bad news, of horrific news. He didn't just pass away in his sleep or from an accident. He was tortured and driven mad and consumed by this darkness until it killed him.

"The sickness took him," I told Thorin, daring to look at him. His face was no longer passive. He saw that my tears were real, that I honestly cared for his father. Dear god, I think he actually believed me.

"I'm s-so sorry," I croaked. "I'm so sorry I couldn't… I tried to save him but… it was too late."

My brain gave up at that point and shut down, throbbing with a growing headache. I hid my face in my palms, leaning on my knees. It was out. It was finally out. Still, I tried to hold in my sobs, knowing that if I gave into my sorrow now, it wouldn't stop. And I refused to have a complete breakdown in front of Thorin Oakenshield.

I felt a faint pressure on my back and I moved from my hunched position to look at the Dwarf-king. His deep blue eyes were kind but also held melancholy and something else that I couldn't quite place. Perhaps, it was pain.

"Thank you," Thorin said in a low rumble. "It is a small comfort to know that my father had your affection and companionship in his darkest moments where I, his son, could not provide it. You have endured far more than any one person should, and at so young an age. I am indebted to you, Emily Parker."

He removed his hand from my back and I suddenly felt cold. I blinked at him as his words sunk in. "You don't owe me anything. Really."

Thorin held my gaze, his eyes firm. "As a king and as a son, I owe you. Should you ever have a request and it be in my power, I shall grant it."

It seemed like he wasn't going to budge on the matter—Dwarven stubbornness. I gave a slight nod and a fleeting smile. With a gross realization, I realized my face was covered in tears and, quite possibly, snot. Great. I wiped the most off with my coat sleeve, embarrassed. "Sorry," I muttered. "I thought I could hold it together…"

"Do not apologize to me for your compassion," he said lightly, the slightest purse of his lips to suggest a smile. "These wounds are still fresh…"

I nodded again, standing and leaving the warmth of the campfire. I hesitated a moment before heading towards the trees, digging in my pocket for a tissue.

"Where are you going to?" Thorin called, still stationary on the log.

I turned and gave him an uncomfortable look. "I can't blow my nose in front of people…"

It felt like a weight had lifted from my mind since I told Thorin. But it was soon replaced by another that settled over my chest. It was the gnawing emotion that bordered between depression and despair, the unnamed sensation of one's heart slowly becoming a black hole. I had experienced something similar a few years ago, when my best friend, Charlie, was killed in a car accident. I still hadn't completely climbed out of that pit of anguish but I knew the warnings.

I could read the signs: I was headed for a massive mental and emotional breakdown. It was a matter of time and, frankly, the longer I put it off, the worse it'd become. Thrain was just the first step on a long flight of stairs that I'd hit as I fell. My parents were another— would I ever see them again? Or Jen? The hunter… and the fear of landing in his hands again, of being all alone at his mercy. His, or Sauron's. Had I seen the last of him? I wanted to think I was safe but something in my gut told me otherwise. And then there was the whole matter of the quest and how I might change the outcome for the better. Three lives were in my hands and it was too much for me to handle. What if I failed? What if I was the reason they died? What if I caused other people's deaths?

I couldn't even save Thrain.

No.

I had to stop.

Not now, Emily.

I leaned back against a tree trunk and shut my eyes.

Not now.

By the time I got back to camp, Gandalf had returned. I wondered if he had been nearby, listening to our conversation in case I messed up and I flushed at the thought. Maybe not. He's a bit more sensitive than that. Gandalf probably just had very good timing, being a Wizard and all.

Thorin looked up at me as I entered the clearing and gave a slight nod. Then he continued to smoke his pipe, his eyes cast on the dancing flames, deep in thought.

I plopped onto my bedroll, ready to pass out when Gandalf ambled over casually. He leaned on his staff and looked down at me. "I take it all went well?" he asked quietly.

"Guess so."

"Hm. Good," the Wizard decided. "Now come move your bed closer to the fire. It's much too cold already."

I really didn't feel like it but I complied anyway, dragging the thin mattress a few feet from the fire. It was worth it, the flames already warming me. I reclined on the bedroll, debating if I should sleep or not. Sure, I was tired but now, my mind wanted to keep racing.

I ended up taking out one of my textbooks, believe it or not—one from my literature class that contained a bunch of short stories, poems and the like. I turned to one I already knew so I wouldn't have to read much for content. I chose Edgar Allen Poe—his stuff was just so wonderfully bizarre, I hoped it would capture my attention. I began reading The Tell-Tale Heart for what was probably the fifth time to be honest. It was one of my favorites by him.

Of course, with reading, I ended up doing the book contortions as I called them. You know, when you get into all these weirdo positions, trying to be comfortable, all the while never putting down the book or pausing in reading. I started in the classic stomach position, elbows bent, propping up the book with my hands. Then I crossed my arms and lowered my chin onto them. Soon after, my neck got stiff and I turned to my side, making sure the fire could still illuminate the page. And then I sat up, cross-legged, the book in my lap and bent over. Cheek in palm… then the other palm. Then my neck was bothering me so I got on stomach again only to realize that it definitely was still uncomfortable. So I rolled onto my back, setting the book on my chest and holding it. And again, the accursed neck pain. I stretched my arms above me and tried making out the words at a distance.

A howl broke out in the night, long and steady.

I shot up in a panic, looking to Gandalf and Thorin who had both went still, listening and watching the forest. The horses whinnied and pawed the ground, clearly distressed. Another howl answered the first, farther away from our camp.

"That wasn't a warg, was it?" I asked, glancing between them.

"A warg pack wouldn't dare cross these mountains," Thorin said with a slight sneer as he stared in the direction of the first howl. "Merely wolves."

"I would; however, advise caution," Gandalf told us. "Wolves are often the eyes for others and quite dangerous by themselves, let alone in large numbers. We heard one answer where many may be."

Gandalf's warning bothered me and it may have been my nerves but I felt eyes on me. Thorin was still watching the woods around us while Gandalf lit his pipe. He seemed at ease but I could tell he was wary of our surroundings.

Our mare let out a loud snort and I sighed, shutting my book. I couldn't see or hear anything move in the forest, aside from the occasional scurry of small creatures. I kept my back to the fire and faced outward, looking at the tree line, as I had seen Thorin do the first night. There wasn't much I could do if we were attacked, aside from alerting the others and hoping they could handle it. My only form of offense would be clobbering a foe over the head with one of my textbooks. Or biting. I seriously needed a weapon or something.

We weren't attacked and we didn't hear from the wolves again. I ended up falling asleep rather soundly on my bedroll and when I woke, I noticed that someone had covered me with my wool blanket. Thanks; it was still pretty cold.

The men were up already, no surprises there. I finished off my sack of food rather quickly and only had a little water left in my pouch. Thorin told us we'd reach the kingdom by mid-day so, it wasn't that big a deal that supplies were almost out.

Right before we made to leave, I put out the fire, kicking dirt onto the remaining embers and scattering the rocks. Our mare greeted me with a wide-eyed look and a shake of her head.

"Those nasty doggies scare you last night?" I asked it. "Freaked me out too."

Despite living in the semi-country, I hadn't been around horses and these girls were huge—way taller than me and therefore somewhat intimidating. I hesitantly held up my hand and she nuzzled my palm, making me grin. Then Thorin's horse bumped me in the shoulder, wanting my attention.

"Oh, hey to you too," I said to it, petting it's mane. "Hay is for horses, ha! I'm so clever."

Once the other started nibbling on my hair, I decided to call it quits and attempted to get on the saddle while the guys discussed the way we'd take. I placed one foot in the… foot holdy strap, then realized it was the wrong foot. Left foot. I braced myself on the saddle handle thing (Such technical jargon, huh?) and tried heaving myself up. And failed about four times before I finally wormed my way up onto the horse's back. Heck yes! I felt so damn proud but really, if it weren't for the mare's patience, I'd have probably been on my ass in the dirt.

The Grey Wizard approached me with a raised brow upon seeing me in the saddle. I beamed at him and noticed Thorin glance at me as he untied the horses.

"Having fun, Emily?" Gandalf inquired with an amused look.

"Oh, just brushing up on my Rohirrim training," I said casually, pretending to polish my nails on my coat.

He simply shook his head and mounted the horse, surprisingly choosing to sit behind me. This was different. "Would you care to take the reins if you are such an accomplished rider?" he teased and I shrugged.

"Not really feeling it," I drawled, trying to sound laid back. Again, I needed shades.

He and Thorin shared a nod and we set off again, Thorin in the lead. Beyond the camp, another trail turned up, more gravelly and hard than the first. As we ascended the mountains, the temperature fell with each step and the air became so thin, I had to take two breaths in place of one. Perhaps it was just me though, as the guys didn't seem to show any affect. Maybe it was because I was inexperienced and had never climbed a mountain before.

After a certain point, the ground became littered with patches of snow that became larger and more frequent the higher we got. My breath came out as a warm vapor cloud which reminded me of just how cold it was getting. I maneuvered my backpack in front of me like a kangaroo pouch and pulled out my gloves and hat. I saw Thorin give me an odd look at the sight of my purple ear flapped hat. C'mon, it was cute. With the little pom-pom and… Hm.

There wasn't much conversation as we traveled, much like before, but it seemed more comfortable to me. After my talk with Thorin, I expected to feel even more awkward and embarrassed around him, giving that he had seen me cry and such, but it was the opposite, actually. The nervous butterflies were gone, replaced with a sense of calm. There was a slight change in him too, that I could tell. He didn't glare at me as much, though he would look utterly puzzled and bothered by my odd remarks and habits (I had once accidentally broke out into the chorus of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town", having been in the Christmas-y mood what with all the snow, and his face—well, I'll be very careful not to ever do that again. I suppose the "He sees you when you're sleeping" bit sounds a little creepy to non-Santa believers. Or to anyone really.)

Finally, finally, finally! I caught sight of our destination! Within the rockface of the mountain was a gigantic carving of a Dwarf's likeness. Whose I wasn't sure—maybe Durin. I grinned so wide, my chapped lips started to crack. Note to self, find your chapstick.

The path we were on became a road of finely laid stone, clear of the snowpiles that surrounded us. I sat up straighter, excited as hell. We followed the road eagerly, even the horses sped up at the thought of being in warm stables again. The first signs of civilization came into view in the form of a large stone gate, carved for protection but not lost in terms of intricacy and design. We trotted up to its open arch and I could see a glimpse the Dwarven city beyond it.

I grinned again and looked over at Thorin who seemed both relieved and worried that we had made it. Because after this, the hard part comes next, followed by the even harder part. Thorin steeled his gaze and held his head high, and it was only then that I realized he was, indeed, a king.

"Welcome," he said to us, his voice rich and regal, "To the Dwarven Kingdom of Ered Luin."