AN: It seems to happen a lot, I plan out a chapter and it ends up being twice as long as anticipated so I split it in two. To rephrase Harry Potter, "I plan, I write, all hell breaks loose". Oh well.

Please let me know what you think of the chapter! I can't tell if people are becoming disinterested or just don't feel like reviewing lol. I'm normally pessimistic and figure that the chapter sucked. Maybe I should make a quick poll, like Love it, Liked it, Meh, or Gag me. I dunno.

And hold on! I heard that Thrain was in a deleted scene in Desolation of Smaug?! :O Come ooon extended edition!

Replies to the anons :]

To dearreader: Thank you! I thought we might as well explore a bit while in Ered Luin. We'll get to see some of the land outside the mountain in the next chapter. Yes! I loved Richard's portrayal so much, I consider things he's said about Thorin to be cannon so some of his statements may come into play later on (I'll credit him when due). As for the tree/ army references, I wanted to keep tying the immediate plot with the Quest to come and parts of Emily's life. So we're constantly looking ahead and behind; nothing's forgotten with Em. And I'll be sure to do no such thing!

To Kari R: Wow, thank you so much! I almost always bite my nails over people staying IC, especially since I'll be juggling 13 Dwarves soon! Oh, and I'm thrilled that I was able to get an emotional response—that may be the greatest thing for a writer to hear!

And in regards to your review on Feeling's Not Enough (since this was updated sooner), yeah, there's quite a buildup before we actually meet Logan. I initially intended for a shorter backstory but it went off on its own but I really like it and think it's important to see Matleena's development and journey.

It's always exciting to find people whose interests are shared in more than one fandom! Hello! :D

Chapter XVI

Night Terrors Near Twilight

Alright, we may as well get this over with. I warn you, a load of TMI is coming your way so unless you'd rather not cringe, or have me die of embarrassment, skip ahead to the part where I yell 'free at last'.

Okay, I have been super worried and scared to death about this certain topic… so much that every time I thought about it or attempted to work it out, I'd go into a full blown panic. Alright, I'll just say it. My period. I told you to skip ahead! Oh god, I'm going to be mature about this and not freak out.

Here's the scoop: I have very limited and probably insufficient lady supplies, them having been kept in my backpack for rainy days in school. Why, Emily, one might ask, you've been in Middle Earth for months, how is it that you have anything left? Surely your bag isn't bigger on the inside and you've got a whole drug store in there? Good points all around. The answer: I've been… er, really irregular.

I noticed that ever since I arrived in Dol Guldur, my cycle has been seriously screwed up. While there, it had stopped completely- no cramps or anything. Not that I'm complaining. I'm not sure if it was because of the amount of stress I was under, what with being tortured and, you know, landed in another world. Actually, I think it was more because of the aura of the fortress, the evil that just seemed to devour life. I had mentioned how draining it had been whilst there, mentally, emotionally, physically…

But since I left, I, well, it hasn't come back yet. And I'm so terrified that I'll be in the middle of nowhere, with a group of all males and boom! Period central. It'd be my luck! And as I've said, I don't have much of a supply—I might last one regular cycle, two if its light or if I'm, er, unhygienic… Ew. But I needed to avoid that at all costs, obviously. I swear to god, I've stressed over so many scenarios—I won't go into the gory details but the worst one in retrospect would probably be leading a crazed warg pack to us.

"How did you find the Dwarf-maggots?" one warg rider would ask.

"Har, har, har! The awkward female is on her period! Oh look, she just had a heart attack!"

Yeah, fucking awful, right? But in order to prevent this, I'd have to find out what women used here instead of the conventional 21st century means of not looking like you've murdered someone and bathed in their blood like a vampire queen. So, that meant I had to ask someone…

Lóni was almost definitely out of the question. And I think I'd rather shoot myself in the foot than ask Lady Dís—no matter how nice and motherly she seemed, I don't think I could bring myself to approach the topic. I was trying to catch Morumma when she stopped in but I had only seen her once and couldn't get a word in. Don't get me wrong, she kind of terrified me for some reason, but she was one of the only Dwarf-maids I had met. I tried being very subtle and vague with Lóni, asking him medical trivia like, "How do you stop a bleeding wound…?" His answer: apply pressure then sew it shut.

Very helpful.

Actually, it was my last day in the infirm when I found out, quite by accident too. There was a healer-in-training, a young Dwarf-maid with thick blonde hair and a short curly beard, who was observing Lóni and another healer. When she spotted me, she held back to ask about my condition—my hair, of course. After I had explained and she was just about to leave, she turned back around and knowing that my healer was a male, asked if I needed "lining". Once I realized what she was hinting at, I nodded so fast my neck could've snapped. I didn't need any at the moment but figured I might as well stock up. And do you know what she came back with? No, not a rag like I thought she would. She hands me a few little woolen squares, stuffed with moss. Did you catch that? Wool and moss. Okay... Just okay. That's all I'm saying. No idea how long that'll last and I really don't want to find out but, you know how it goes... Not much later after that encounter, did Lóni look me over once more and finally give me the news that I'd be able to leave.

FREE AT LAST!

There we go.

So, I was released from prison about four days after my arrival for good behavior. Oh, did I say prison? I meant the med-ward.

You should've seen Fili's face as I waltzed on by his sickbed.

"She gets to leave?" he exclaimed to his healer. "Why does she get to leave before me?"

"Because, my Prince, the lady's injuries were not as dire. Now settle down or I'll have you take another calming tonic," his healer, a very severe-looking Dwarf, replied.

"Catch ya later, Fili," I grinned as I left while he looked on in simmering envy.

Oh, how it felt to be free! Now… what to do?

I was in a part of Ered Luin that I wasn't familiar with, so, naturally, I wandered around, hoping I could make it to a landmark. Sure, there were plenty of Dwarves to ask but… I didn't know any and uh… Yeah, okay; I was one of the people who would rather walk aimlessly around a store for five hours instead of just asking an employee where an item was located. It was sad, I know, but it can't be helped.

I was really hoping to run into Bifur or Bofur, or even Bombur whom I haven't met but knew I'd like. If only I could find my way to the kitchens… I was actually having a mad craving for pizza, like really bad. I had even startled fantasizing about it… ordering for delivery, taking that first slice out of the box—the melted cheese, crisp crust, the molten sauce, and the toppings! Oh my god, the toppings!

I needed to stop. Control yourself, Em!

Finally, I broke down and got directions, but not after a Dwarf whom I passed several times asked if I needed help. He was an older Dwarf, named Baruz, with a massive red beard, streaked with braids of grey, who talked the whole way to the bedchambers. He had insisted on walking me, saying that he was awful with giving directions (I think he more like didn't trust me to remember them or follow them right but didn't want to offend me).

Baruz and his family had been miners for generations, so he told me. He had seven older brothers whose names I had forgotten but he said all of them were shorter and fatter than himself. From what I learned about his life (we had a long walk back), it was very apparent that the female population among Dwarves was very low. I had heard of that before but I didn't realize how extensive it was. Only one third or less of the Dwarves were women—in total, not just with the Longbeards! It turned out the few Dwarf-maids that I had seen in the ladies' wing were about it. Baruz mentioned how having grown up in a large family, he had always wanted one of his own, but because of being a working class Dwarf, he never had the heart to ask anyone to be the wife of a poor miner.

It was quite sad, to realize just how many Dwarves never got to experience love, or at least didn't act on it. And also, the pressure the women must feel—having to marry and carry on, not only the family name but also the race! It was crazy! Baruz reassured me, as the princes had before, that forced marriages were rare, hardly practiced things, but it was very clear that romance was a high privilege among Dwarves. He said that it was considered improper to show any romantic feelings towards another unless they had intentions to marry them. That particular custom was slightly lost on younger generations, he said, which made me think of how flirty people were back in my world. The big difference was, of course, that faking and overplaying affections wasn't just limited to teens, sadly—I had seen enough teacher dramas to write a soap opera.

"Pleasure to be of service, my Lady," Baruz bowed, leaving me at the entrance to the ladies' wing.

"Thanks again!" I called. "Nice meeting you!"

Once in my room, I was overjoyed to flop onto the furry throw on the bed. It seemed my school uniform and coat had been washed, it being set out on my bed. I was wearing the lavender dress from before (it had been washed and returned to me) but I consider changing in my own clothes, no matter how weird it was walking about in my school uniform.

Despite having spent the last few days in bed and there being a million things I had planned on doing, at the moment, the thought of lounging and doing nothing at all seemed pretty appealing. Judging by the amount of trouble I had had sleeping in the med-ward, it wasn't a wonder why I was so low energy. A little cat nap wouldn't do any harm. In fact, I was just on the verge of dozing off when a knock sounded at my door.

"Mmm," I groaned, forcing myself out of bed to get the door.

I had expected Gandalf, or even Thorin—I admit, I felt like I was bound to run into him and for some reason, it made me nervous. But I was wrong on both accounts; it was a guard, or a servant, it's hard to tell, but he looked very formal and serious.

"Lady Dís has requested your presence," he told me, making my eyebrows raise.

"Sh-she has?"

"If you are ready, I will escort you," he said curtly.

"Uhhh."

I glanced down at myself—my hair hadn't been properly brushed in ages, my dress was ripped and slightly stained with blood, and I was still using the soft blue slippers Lóni gave me. Sadly, I wasn't going to get much better. I shrugged, "Sure, let's go."

I was a bit uneasy in meeting her again, even though she had been really nice the first time. I wondered if Thorin would be there too, or show up later. My stomach twisted in knots, walking down the hall to her room. Actually, the men's wing was a few minutes' walk from here, so it was very possible that Thorin could—

"We have arrived. The Lady insisted you need not wait for permission to enter."

I waited at the door, biting my lip, as the guard looked at me oddly. "Did you not hear me?"

"Yes, I did, I just, er…"

He frowned and opened the door for me, no doubt thinking I was a stuck up prat who refused to open my own doors. "The Lady Parker," he announced, shooing me inside and shutting the door.

Lady Dís's chambers were set up similar to mine, only much bigger and way more decked out. What I found most interesting were the walls—black marble (or something like it) with carved designs, painted in with gold, and jewels of varying sizes lain throughout the pattern. I wasn't very materialistic but damn! I think I could've bought a town with those walls! Or a whole state, at the least! Or a small island!

"I am so pleased you came," Dís smiled to me, emerging from behind a velvet drape. "Come. Sit with me."

She beckoned me forward into a sitting room of sorts. I took a seat across from her, on a piece of furniture that was like a sofa only without a back.

"How do you fair, Emily? Oh, may I call you Emily?" she corrected politely, still with a curve to her lips.

"Y-yes, please," I stammered, caught off guard by her request. I had been telling people to call my Emily for so long, it was weird when someone actually asked first. "Er, I'm fine, thanks."

Dís hummed at my answer, lacing her hands in front of her. She seemed to consider her words before speaking. "Am I correct in assuming that you were told of the extent of my son's injuries…?"

I ducked my head, feeling embarrassed for some reason. "Yeah… I was."

"Then you must know that you have my undying gratitude for helping save my son," Dís told me earnestly, her sultry voice dipping a little lower. "I speak for myself and all of my kin when I say that you shall always be welcome in Ered Luin."

I didn't know what to say, so I just ended up looking sheepish. "Thank you…"

Dís seemed to pick up on my unease in the spotlight and changed the subject.

"Are you hungry?" she asked politely. "I could have tea and cakes brought, or perhaps something more filling?"

I'd normally decline because I tend to eat like a rabid monkey when I'm hungry and, well, I'd rather not display that in front of royalty… but, ahem, I was pretty hungry. So, a quick, "Oh my god, yes, please," was my answer.

She smiled, and instead of ringing a bell or something to call a servant, Dís actually went to the door and asked the guard personally to arrange for food. "I have always wanted a daughter—I think it is every mother's wish," she commented as she returned to the room. "Oh, do not misunderstand; I was so proud when I had my first son. He took after his father with his handsome blonde locks. Fili was such a darling babe. He hardly ever cried, and always clung to myself or his father."

Dís went over to a mantle, smiling fondly at the memory. "I was just as thrilled to have another boy, though I must admit, Kili was more of a handful compared to his brother… He tended to wander and get into messes before he could even walk. He was a happy child, laughed very much, but would cry twice as loudly when he didn't get his way," she chuckled, but then her lips turned down and her eyes held a slight sadness. "I worry about him."

I gulped, feeling incredibly shaky as I tried to stop my mind from wandering to the future. To the princes future, in particular. Out of my periph, I saw Dís turn to me.

"You are aware of my brother's quest," she said, and I couldn't quite tell if it were a question. I nodded, and Dís pressed her lips into a thin line. She sighed, and sat down across from me. "I love Thorin dearly, yet I cannot help but think this quest is folly… I fear my brother's pride and honor drive him to such desperate actions. To steal a single coin from a dragon's horde is madness, but to take back an entire kingdom...? Fewer to none have responded to his call, and those who have do so out of obligation, I think— namely, our close kin. Our distant cousins… my sons."

Her eyes met mine—they were so much like Thorin's, almost the same deep blue, but they were missing the shocking intensity behind his eyes. Instead, there was trepidation.

"What are your thoughts on this quest, Emily? Do you think it holds hope?"

I blinked. "Er, well, I." I stopped to calm myself. Don't get tongue-tied. Her sons and brother are going off into what she thinks is a death trap! Reassure her. Just leave out the part about you being their only chance… "There's always hope."

Dís's brows creased, looking un-assured, so I continued. "I mean, it won't be easy or anything but, it can be done. Nothing's impossible."

She studied me a moment. "Do you say this as a Wizard's apprentice or as someone concerned for their host's wellbeing?"

"I, er…"

Her smile returned with a shake of her head. "Forgive me. I was merely being cynical. I have not taken any form of comfort well as of late," she explained, "And yet still I seek it out."

"Maybe you want to believe it," I offered. "But you're too afraid to let your guard down in case it turns out wrong…"

Dís's eyes found the floor. "That is right, I suppose. Perhaps it is time I allow hope in my heart, for my sons, at least. Thank you for offering me some peace."

I gave her a crooked grin, happy I had said something right. When Dís looked back at me, she seemed normal again, or at least hid her conflicted emotions.

"Might I play with hair while we wait?" she asked. "I have longed to pander to a daughter, and since he's grown, Fili rarely humors me to fix his hair."

I smiled at the imagine of Dís braiding a fully grown Fili's hair. "Sure," I shrugged.

Dís took a boar-bristle brush in hand and sat me in front of her vanity. The last time I had let someone play with my hair was my last sleepover with Jen when she wanted to practice different braids and styles. I nearly melted after the first few brush strokes. She patiently worked out the knots, and pulled back the upper half of my hair, so that Thrain's braid wasn't hidden.

"You should wear it proudly," Dís said, fixing the braid over my shoulder. "Never has my father publically chosen someone for Thorin, not even after our great losses in Erebor."

It took me a moment to register what she had said.

"For… for Thorin? I-I thought it was just like anyone from the line of Durin, in general…?"

Dís smiled at my reflection. "No, I do not believe so. You see, my father was there when Frerin fell, and my sons were not yet born at the time of his disappearance. Thorin would have been the only suitable match my father knew of. It seems that he intended for you to marry my brother."

I sat there stiffly, gazing blankly at my reflection in the silver glass.

"You did not know of this?" she asked, watching me curiously.

"N-no!"

"There is no need to be alarmed, Emily," she laughed. "I do not think my brother would ever act on romantic feelings. A mighty warrior and a great king, he is, but in the field of love, he is no more than a bashful Dwarfling."

"He is…?" It seemed hilarious, Thorin Oakenshield being reduced to a blushing teenager with a crush. Actually, it seemed almost impossible to picture seriously.

Dís nodded in answer. "There was one he fancied, a sweet Dwarf-maid that worked in the bakeries. Every day, Thorin would make an excuse to walk by her parents' shop, just to admire her. You know, I do not believe he spoke one word to her though after some years, they managed to smile at each other. From across the room, of course."

I grinned. "He still hasn't spoken to her?" I asked. "What's he waiting for?"

The delight faded quickly from her eyes. "She never reached the Blue Mountains," Dís told me sadly. "She was severely injured during the sacking of Erebor, caught between dragon-fire and stone… She did not survive the exodus."

I lowered my eyes. "I'm… sorry."

"Hm. I choose to remember her fondly though I did not know her well."

"And Thorin…?"

Dís smiled. "I do not know how he remembers her. He does not divulge many of his thoughts… I think he has forgotten how, to be honest."

"What do you mean?"

"When we lost Erebor, not only did we lose our home, but our mother, Freydís, as well," she explained. "I believe that was the start of my father's madness—his grief drove him from his children, and Thorin was left to remain strong for the rest of us. He would listen, and console, but never did he seek comforting. He kept his grief and doubts to himself, not willing to trouble us."

With a glance at my somber expression, Dís switched the topic to one that was less depressing. "I believe my mother would have loved you," she said. "A more proper lady you'd never find, but she could swing an axe as well as any man. That's actually how my parents met—she bested him in a public duel!"

"Really? That's awesome!"

"I am not familiar with that word, but I believe it is an appropriate way to describe her— Lady Freydís, a woman who inspired some awe."

I laughed outright. Dís was the coolest of the cool.

After lunch, or brunch, with Lady Dís, I found myself wandering. I had walked up and down the hall of the men's wing, hoping to run into someone, and trying to pluck up the courage to knock and find Gandalf's room. I never did. Once, one of the doors had started to open and I was suddenly so overcome with anxiety, I turned tail and ran before I could even see who it was. Part of me was nervous about running into Thorin still, and I hadn't the foggiest why. Something about having another one on one with him made my stomach squirm. Ever since my little white lie down with the troll, I felt really… awkward thinking about him. I think it might have actually sunk in that he was really Thorin Oakenshield which, I know, is about the dumbest thing I could've said. I had spent a good number of days with him before we had reached the Blue Mountains and, at least towards the end, I thought we got on well enough.

Needless to say, I spent the rest of the day in my room thanks to my spontaneous anti-sociability. I considered looking for Kili but something told me he'd be less than thrilled to see me. It appears that our blood-brother camaraderie fell apart as soon as we left the mines and he remembered that I was a weird human who had been peeping on him and his brother naked—even though I totally wasn't. Given that our interaction was brief after Silver Deep, I couldn't quite gauge how far back he had reverted, and frankly, I didn't care to find out. Fili was harder to decipher as he had been feeling ridiculously guilty about lying to… Oh, why did everything have to end up back at Thorin?

I felt a bit stupid, for letting the day go by without accomplishing much. Talking to Dís had been insightful and I really enjoyed her company, but after that, all I did was laze around and read my textbooks. I was surprised to have been offered to eat diner in my room, in case I wanted to rest and recover more. I almost said no, and I sort of regret not declining, but, of course, the thought of being surrounded by people, that is to say, a certain Dwarf in particular, made me nervous. So I ended up eating on my bed, mentally berating myself for being an idiot. I made a vow to myself to not waste another day here, and to maybe even overcome my silly fears and seek out Thorin tomorrow… or maybe the next day or something. It's not like I could avoid him forever—we were about to go on a quest together. Hopefully.

Sleep found me quickly. Much faster than all of the night in the infirm which I was thankful for. I had so many nights of rushing thoughts that I feared it would become routine.

I thrashed to be free of the blankets. Fear flooded my veins, and circulated my system like a thick flowing poison. It felt as if I were drowning, suffocating in the unbearable heat the covers held. I kicked until all of the furs rested at my feet and I squirmed up to the headboard, taking in large gulps of air. A film of sweat covered every inch of my body, making the loose robes I wore cling to my skin.

I don't know what had happened.

I sat there, panting heavily, eying the dark room lit by the hearth's low glowing embers. My heart was beating madly. I put a hand to my chest, hoping to quell it but to no avail. My hand was shaking too, no, all of me was.

What had happened?

It took a few moments longer before I could force my body to relax. I let my shoulders sag and forcibly uncurled my toes and stopped gripping the fabric around my knees. Breathe in, and out, and in—what fucking happened?

"Fucking hell," I said aloud, hoping that hearing my voice would calm me, or relieve the tension. It didn't.

I pushed my fringe out of my face, the hairs wet and stubborn to wipe free of my forehead. My head thudded back against the headboard and I sighed, expelling the hot breath from my lungs.

It's alright, Em. You got this. You're safe. But holy crap, that was awful. Another nightmare without a nightmare. I had thought it was just side effects from the sleeping tonics but I hadn't taken one tonight, er, last night. What time was it? God, I missed my alarm clock—okay, no I didn't; I always hated that thing. But I wished I knew the time. My pack out of reach which had my cell in it. I wasn't sure if it's time would match that of Middle Earth though. What with all the weird time switches, I don't think it meant anything. I left in winter, at least back in my world, arrived in… well, I don't know, maybe, fall or early winter? And now it was… well, it was before Durin's Day, that's for sure. And I think that was around October…?

I'm sidetracked now. But on purpose. Whenever I become really freaked out, I purposefully change the subject and try to distract myself from my fears. It wasn't working.

This was such a terrible feeling to have—being afraid, actually terrified, and having no clue what about. I had an idea, a desperate one, but the notion made my heart palpitate even harder. I didn't want to think of the implications. Or say it, even in my head.

I chose ignorance.

When the tremors stopped wracking my body, I decided to get out of bed. My bare feet hit the cool stone floor, leaving steamy footprints as I walked. Shit, did I have a fever or something? I felt my forehead then neck to see but my whole body seemed to be the same raised temperature so I couldn't tell. That would figure—getting sick before the Quest. Just my luck.

I grabbed something like a housecoat from the wardrobe; it was a scarlet silken thing that was pretty flowy and lightweight. I only put it on because I felt uncomfortable in my sweaty clothes. In fact, I really needed a bath. Maybe that's what I could do. Because I knew there was no chance of me getting back to sleep. Not after a night terror like that.

The bath hall was deserted, as I had hoped, and yes, I made sure it was the women's. The hot spring's water made me feel sick, as my body seemed only a few degrees cooler than it. I felt like piece of meat bobbing in a stew. The more I focused on how hot and bothered I was, the worse I felt. It seemed like I was two seconds away from vomiting.

I scrubbed up, using my fingernails to scrape off any dead skin as gross as that sounds. I lathered the… whatever it was, into my hair, raking my fingers through like a comb. I really didn't want to dunk my head all the way under, so I tried leaning back to rinse the suds from my hair. That slight tilt back was enough to make me dizzy, to the point where I literally had to stop everything and focus on not puking or passing out.

I shouldn't have come down here.

I groaned. So stupid.

I leaned over the side of the bath, folding my arms over the edge and resting my head in them. The worry that someone would walk in on me, half exposed, quickly faded from my mind as the fear of drowning took over. I lifted my head. I felt like I could fall asleep again and easily slip under the water. I had to get out.

Exhaustion took its toll for it seemed like ages before I was dried off and dressed again, this time in an oversized dress. It was a deep plum, trimmed in black lace, that fit incredibly loosely—too much in fact. I had been lucky and foresaw the problem so I brought along sashes from other dresses to tie it up so that it fit more snugly in certain places. I probably looked stupid, but at least I was clean. And smelled decent.

As I made my way back to my room, I paused, still feeling uneasy on my feet. I leaned against a wall to regain my balance. Shit. I had better not be coming down with something serious. I had yet to reach the women's wing; it was only a flight of stairs away, but it seemed like I still had miles to go. I tried psyching myself up, to attempt to stagger back to my room. There, I could recover in private. Okay, baby steps. One foot in front of the other.

The flight of stairs curved up the incline, having been carved from the bluish rock of the mountain itself. Thirty steps, I had counted before. Slowly and steadily, I climbed and counted my progress to urge me on. When I finally got to thirty, I nearly grinned at the prospect of being in bed. But then I took another step and my foot hit thirty-one, causing me to stumble at the unexpected contact and fall forward. Impossible.

I looked up, my face scrunched in confusion. Thirty-one? How…?

A small gust of wind breezed through the corridor, coming up behind me, making my wet hair flutter and my exposed skin prickle with goose-bumps. The staircase stretched ahead of me, as I sat on step number one as if I had never moved. Impossible.

Fear bubbled in my gut, both anchoring me to the spot and urging me to flee. There was nothing here. No reason to be afraid. But I was. Just like when I woke up to nothing, sweating and breathing terror.

When did my heart start hammering? Had it been this whole time?

I stood shakily, not paying any mind to the dirty robes I dropped on the stairs. My breathing was shallow, as if I had run a marathon. Sick, I was just sick. I was over reacting. There was nothing wrong.

The torches along the back wall flickered, causing the shadows to sway and distort. I turned away from the staircase to face them. My vision swam. The long flames stood still but it looked as if they were shrinking. But that wasn't it. It was more like I was moving backwards. I had the feeling of being pulled from behind, like how the ocean recedes and tries to draw you into its depths. Its endless chasm of empty space. I couldn't go there. It was already an effort to blink my eyes, the action no longer involuntary. I wasn't making any sense. Was I running a fever? Was I running…? Yes.

It took far too long to realize it but my legs had carried me away on their own accord. It was an unsteady wobbling gait, that was more the pace of a slow jog than a sprint. Had I chosen to flee? I must have. Good. I didn't like how standing by the stairway felt. The things I had felt. I ran blindly and without direction, trying to escape the strange sensation, unable to make sense of it.

Stupid, slow down. You're going to fall.

You're overreacting, Emily. You're sick.

A little farther. I need air. And distance.

I could see dim lights up ahead, just around the corner. It wasn't the orange glow of fire; it was pale like moonlight or the faint sun. Perhaps it was morning. I picked up my paces, eager to reach the calling light. I rounded the corner, and skidded to a halt, having to stop dead to avoid crashing into someone. The hall was long and high, one side lined with tall windows that overlooked the mountainside. Through the glass, the slowly lightening sky of purples was just enough to illumine the hall, and the lone figure standing no more than a few feet from me, having distance himself after our near collision.

My eyes registered his familiar silhouette immediately and I felt the world stop. All of the blood in my veins stopped flowing as my heart ceased beating, the air in my chest turned thick and stale as my lungs grew still as I gazed in quiet wonder at the man before me. His voice shook my body into function and I was alive again.

"Miss Parker."

It was almost a question, but the surety in his tone ruled out any chance of his uncertainty.

I stared at the Dwarf-king, dumbstruck at his sudden presence, and my inability to think straight. He was fully dressed, but it wasn't the kingly garb he normally wore in Ered Luin. It was full armor and brigandine, leather and fur—what he wore throughout The Hobbit journey. That sight alone shocked my senses into overdrive to the point where they seemed lame.

When I realized I had been staring at him slack-jawed and stupid, I blinked, and managed a breathy acknowledgment as my chest was still heaving. "Thorin…"

If I had startled him, me coming out of nowhere and nearly mowing him over at an ungodly hour in the middle of a deserted hallway, he did a good job of hiding it.

"Are you well?" he asked me, concerned.

I began shaking my head immediately, and then replied with a 'yes', contradicting myself. I watched his brows furrow then raise slightly. His lips parted as he regarded me in my ill-fitting dress, wet around the bodice because of my dripping hair, panting slightly and perhaps looking as if I've seen a ghost. Thorin inclined his head, choosing to take my word on the matter even though I'm sure he knew otherwise.

God, I felt like an idiot. Every uncomfortable scenario I'd have dreamt up came rushing back to me. I shuffled my feet, thinking of something to fill the silence with, and hopefully distract him from how horrendous I looked.

"Thorin! I—I, er, didn't know about the cuff… and what it meant. I mean, er, th-that it was specifically aimed at you, ya know?" I told him, my blush fueling my fever.

The Dwarf-king seemed taken aback by my outburst, and when it was clear that I wasn't finish rambling and making a fool of myself, he drew in a deep breath and held it, like he was trying to brace himself against my awkwardness.

Like always, I told myself to shut up, but couldn't. I kept going.

"I didn't mean to… um, embarrass you or anything. I won't wear it if… if you want. I mean I probably shouldn't even have it i-i-in the first place," I continued, ducking my head. I couldn't look at him for some reason. With trembling hands (why were they trembling?), I started to unfasten the gold cuff from the bit inside. "I don't know what Thrain was thinking anyway, giving this to me. I-I'm not even—"

Thorin's hands stopped my shaking ones, my speech cutting off right away. I shivered so violently from the contact, I actually jumped. My hands dropped away from the braid, unbelievably, to let Thorin fasten the cuff tightly back in place. With bated breath, I met his gaze. His eyes were surprisingly stern and I wonder if had somehow offended him or insulted his father. I was forming an apology when he spoke and cut through my thoughts.

"My father has deemed you worthy," he told me in a low voice. "Who am I, or anyone else, to say otherwise? Remove it if you do not wish to wear it, but do not do so on my behalf."

I fidgeted under his intense stare, breaking and making eye contact on and off. "You mean you… you aren't bothered by me wearing it…?"

"Why should I be?" Thorin asked, narrowing his eyes as if to discern my meaning.

I gave a noncommittal shrug, trying to stop my hands from wringing.

How do I even word it? What was I even trying to say? I mean, I always had a hard time imagining someone wanting to date me back in school, let alone a king. Let alone Thorin. Even if it was just a meddling parent, his father trying to set us up, or whatever the hell he was getting at, the old coot, it just seemed… wrong. I felt wrong. It just seemed understandable to me that Thorin would be embarrassed or upset by my involvement in the highly hypothetical and ridiculous notion.

"I-I dunno… Because I'm… me," I replied in a small voice.

"So I am aware," the Dwarf-king drawled, eying me carefully. I couldn't tell if he was teasing me or not. He didn't smile, so I assumed that he wasn't. "You're the young woman who confessed to endangering the lives of my kin, who attempted and failed to singlehandedly kill a mountain troll, is that correct?"

I lowered my eyes, feeling guilty and dumb for ever lying in the first place. I stayed quiet, not able to bring myself to "fess up" a second time.

"You are also a very poor liar, Miss Parker."

My head shot up, a wave of dizziness following which I ignored. "You… you knew."

Thorin raised a brow. "It is true, then?"

Shit. He got me to confess without even trying!

"I thought Kili had been too quick to agree with you," he continued, trying to meet my gaze, but I avoided his. "Why did you surrender yourself to blame?"

"I just… didn't want the guys to get in trouble," I mumbled. "I-I don't normally lie, really, I'm painfully honest most of the time, a-and I felt really bad about it too! I just, well… I'm sorry…"

Thorin paused, and his hesitation finally made me look up.

"I cannot hold such a trivial offense against you," the Dwarf-king rumbled. "You have eased the passing of my father, and saved the life of my heir and nephew… How many ways can I be indebted to you...?"

I didn't know what to say, so I gave him a shy smile.

Thorin cleared his throat softly. "Your healer has told me that you have made a near full recovery," he commented.

"Yeah."

"He also said that you were advised to stay off your feet as much as possible, if your knee is to heal properly… Surely you have a reason for wandering the halls at this hour?"

Whoa. Since when did Thorin go into mom mode?

I bit my lip, recalling the nightmares I couldn't remember, waking up in a panic, freaking out just moments before running into him.

"I couldn't sleep," I said simply.

He hummed in acknowledgement then glanced at the early morning sky. "I will see you to your chambers," he said, and I wasn't sure if it was an offer or an order.

"Oh, that's okay."

"I insist."

Ah. It was an order.

The walk back to my room was silent, although I tried to think of something clever to say. I'll blame the fever for my clouded mind, thanks. It was a slow walk, with me trying to look competent but I knew he saw every stumble of mine, even if slight. Thorin watched me walk, as discreetly as possible, probably gauging the chances of me keeling over and him having to save my head from cracking into the ground. I think of the loveliest images, don't I?

But we arrived without much of an incident and honestly, I was disappointed.

"I trust you will be fine from here?"

"Yeah, thanks…"

Neither of us moved. He was waiting for me to head inside but something held me back.

"So… er, what about you?" I asked suddenly.

"Pardon?"

"What you're doing up… I mean, you're not exactly in jimjams," I laughed weakly, and couldn't help but notice confusion cross his features.

"In what?"

"Erm… night clothes."

He half nodded. "No. I am not. I leave for the North by first light…"

"To meet with your kin," I added, knowingly. "To see if they'll help with the Quest."

Thorin regarded me with something akin to irritation. He raised his chin slightly when he spoke. "Would you care to enlighten me as to the sucess of my efforts? Do you care to predict the number of those to answer my call?" he challenged.

I backed down. Tempted as I was to be a know-it-all, and call thirteen, I felt like it would only embitter him rather than impress him. The mighty Dwarf-king will be bummed out enough when he realizes how small and unimposing his company will be without me saying, "I told you so".

I shook my head. "Not really," I shrugged. "Be careful though?"

He hesitated before responding, choosing to skirt around my comment. "This is possibly the last I will see of you. Have you a request of me, now would be best to state it."

I smiled. Is requesting that you not get yourself killed valid? I shook my head. "I… I don't have one," I answered.

"If you are sure, Miss Parker—"

"Emily," I couldn't help but interject. "It's just Emily."

Thorin nodded, "Farewell."

Had it really been the last time I'd ever see him, I'd have probably gone in for a hug, no matter how uncomfortable it may have been. But instead, I chose to play it cool with a smile and nod.

"Bye."

With a curt nod of his head, he was gone.

I shut my door behind me, leaning against it heavily. I stared at my bed skeptically. Even if there had been a possibility before, now there was definitely no way I could fall back asleep.

Footnotes:

In Norse mythology, the term dís refers to a protective spirit or deity that is often associated with fate, much like the valkyries or norns. I thought it was fitting that Dís reveals some weighty fated information to Emily—namely Thrain's incredibly direct intentions for she and Thorin.

Freydís is another Scandinavian name, derived from dís. I chose this as Thrain's wife's name because it incorporated those of Thorin's siblings—Frerin and Dís (It could be argued that Frerin was named after Frόr, Thrain II's uncle but whatever lol). I thought it would be cool to show that children were sometimes named after their mother, and not just the father or patriarchal figures in the family, as we normally see.

In regards to Thorin's mysterious love interest, I thought that it was really necessary to include that aspect to his life. I got the idea from Richard Armitage himself who theorized that Thorin may have had a lover who was killed during Smaug's attack. I don't think I'll go that much further into their relationship(mostly because it wasn't exactly one)—it's not meant to be a source of jealousy for Emily, just to cause her to look at Thorin differently, to show that there's so much more to him than what's written in the book.