AN: This was some hard stuff to get through for some reason! THANK YOU everyone who reviewed or checked in during the hiatus! I love hearing from you!

Chapter XXIII

Journey Jitters

Thorin and I parted ways once inside Bag End. Or rather, he had excused himself politely and I stood at the door, trying to collect myself and figure out what to do.

I felt good about our talk, despite the small cringes that came with recalling my stuttering and stumbling over my words. It could've been worse. Heck, it had been worse before. But at least I had gotten my point across and it'd actually been effective. He got it. He understood. As much as he could.

Thorin had seemed deep in thought when he'd left me—his eyes were unfocused, his thoughts turned inward. Towards me. Well. I assumed. No, actually it was more likely to be Thrain he was thinking about. Or what exactly his father could've made me promise.

I leaned back against the front door, my head resting just above the frame. Thrain's last actions had been to suggest Thorin and I get hitched and to make me take a vow on his deathbed. Imagine not knowing something like that, being only left to guess. It must be torture for Thorin. I mean, if one of my parents had—

I still don't think letting Thorin know what that promise had been would do any good. Oh… Maybe it would. I don't know. It'd stop his imagination from filling in the blanks, which could only be a plus. Maybe he thought the vow was something to do with us getting married (I can't even think that without blushing and feeling queasy). But that wouldn't have anything to do with the Quest so Thorin would probably think it's something else. Thank Merlin. I admit, I've no clue what Thorin's thought process is like but the possibility of 'courting', 'marriage', and 'Miss Parker' crossing his thoughts in any way makes me uncomfortable and embarrassed.

From what I'd gathered about their relationship, Thrain was a bit… distant with his children, at least after his wife had passed. So the probability of Thorin guessing that his father wanted me to protect and guide him seemed… slim. Hell, it even blindsided me.

It was so…bizarre to consider. Me protecting and saving this mighty warrior king. ME. Like, Thrain, were you blind in both eyes or what? I'm like barely 5'5". And yeah, I know it's about more than brawn; Thrain had already told me that. But that really does factor in. Like if this plays out like canon, they… well, it happens during a battle, and a huge one at that. Which means I have to be in the middle of it to do any good...

I bit my lip. Reminder to beg Fili to keep training me. As if I could ever be ready for something of that scale. Are there any magical good luck items in Middle Earth? Cause I could use some of those. Like a gallon of Liquid Luck.

I felt the wood of the door frame dig into the back of my head, making a grainy sound when I moved. My eyes cast upwards, staring at Bilbo's modest chandelier but not quite seeing it.

I'd known this task would be insanely difficult but… It was just overwhelming. How do I do anything? How do I even keep my ass alive before I can do anything important?

Crap.

Had I been going about this all wrong? Was I supposed to have stopped the Quest from happening altogether? Had it been more than coincidence that I just happened to stumble upon Gandalf who just happened to be going to Bree where Thorin just happened to be? Was I supposed to have stopped them meeting?! Oh my god, was that it? I've already fucked up, haven't I? Did I… Did I kill them…?

The possibility made me numb.

That can't be it… Can it?

I assumed there was some sort of cosmic destiny force at work which brought me here but if that were true… If I was brought out of Chetwood Forest to intervene in Gandalf and Thorin's meeting… No. If that was my purpose here, then sending me to Mirkwood in the first place would have been pointless, right?

The flames in the chandelier's candles swayed in a breeze I couldn't feel. I slowly blinked and looked away.

What good would being in Dol Guldur have done?

My brows knitted together.

Thrain. This all started with Thrain. He had had the map and key… Without them, the Quest was null. Was I supposed to have… what? Stolen them? Destroyed them somehow? Was I supposed to have saved him too…?

I felt my nails dig into my palms.

It's not like I hadn't tried or wanted to, I… I just… I wasn't…

Wait, wait, wait! Stop.

That's even assuming I was supposed to have anything to do with the Quest! I just assumed and got caught up in everything happening and made myself involved! I could have tried to associate myself with an entirely different region and peoples! Hell, I'd been banking on seeing Galadriel so badly! If I'd kept up with moaning to Gandalf, he might've caved and sent me there! I mean, I could've been chilling with Elves right now if I'd played my cards right! And I'd have nothing to do with the Durins or the Quest of Erebor or the bloody task of saving people's lives! But I didn't. So, I'm here and… Not that I'd rather be with the Elves but I could've been.

The very thought of that was almost mind blowing. All of this might not have happened to me. But if I'm being totally honest, all of my actions, everything I've been through so far on this journey, it's just felt… right. Ered Luin, meeting the Durins and the other Dwarves—Gimli, bloody hell—and Bilbo fucking Baggins, and just being with Thorin, and hell, even the whole nightmare of Dol Guldur was worth spending some time with Thrain, sharing memories and… How could any of that be a mistake?

I steeled my expression to the empty hallway, against my own self-doubt. This wasn't a mistake. Meeting these people, being with them, wasn't a mistake. Even if this cosmic force (if there was one) had meant for me to be somewhere else, with someone else, to hell with it.

I could hear the quiet murmurs of the company from the other room.

This was where I wanted to be.

Stepping away from the door, I passed the parlor entrance, spotting most of the Dwarves gathered inside. I saw Thorin by the hearth, his back to me, and quickly hurried past. But I wasn't sure what to do now. Bilbo was most likely hiding still and Gandalf… where was he? Either way, I felt the urge to be alone. Actually, not really. I just was so wrapped up in thoughts, I wasn't sure if I could shake off this melancholy to pass as okay. I didn't need questions right now.

So I sat on one of the benches in the entrance hall, pushing aside someone's bundle of items: a fiddle, a war hammer, Kili's bow and quiver. I listened to their drone of voices, just whispers, and just below my ability to make out words. A quick smile crossed my features, thinking about a line from Samwise Gamgee about "dropping eaves".

The creak of the floorboards alerted me to someone approaching, and I glanced up, surprised to find Bombur. He gave a small smile and nod. "Miss Emily."

"No need for the 'miss'," I said softly, trying not to gain anyone's attention from the parlor.

Bombur nodded again.

"Uh, was there something…?" I trailed off, feeling like I was keeping him from whatever he came in here to do. "Am I in the way?"

"Oh, no! You're quite fine where you are," he assured, ambling over to the bench across from me. He rummaged through one of the bags, I assumed his own, and produced a small block of wood and a small chiseling tool. "For Bifur," he explained, seeing my curious gaze. "It calms him."

"Mm," I replied in understanding.

It was then that I heard humming coming from the other room. Deep, harmonious, and soulful. A chill ran down my spine and I shivered, crossing my arms. It began with Thorin, and soon the other Dwarves joined him. I watched Bombur wander over to the parlor archway, entranced by the familiar melody.

"Far over the Misty Mountains cold,
To dungeons deep and caverns old.
We must away ere break of day,
To find our long-forgotten gold.

The wind was on the withered heath,
But in the forest stirred no leaf:
There shadows lay be night or day,
And dark things silent crept beneath.

The Dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells,
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells."

My breath was shallow as I listened. I'd always loved the song, even before I heard the cast of The Hobbit perform it. I remember my dad singing it to me when he'd read me the book before bed, in his off tune voice—he'd always made the song sound cheerier than it should be, to lighten the darkness of what it told.

I peeked into the parlor, past Bombur, drawn in as he had been.

Thorin's rich baritone was undeniably beautiful, even more so in person, actually seeing him and the others, the expressions on their faces, their chorus filling the room with longing and mourning. But here I was, amongst it all, and I felt… I don't know how I felt. I knew how I thought I should be feeling—awestruck or reverent or mesmerized or anything. But I didn't. Not really. Not fully. Much unlike any time I'd listened to the song on the soundtrack or heard it in the film—I'd nearly cried in the theater, for goodness sake! So, why not here? Why not now? I was confused at my strange numbness and yet I couldn't be bothered to figure it out. All I knew was that this meant that things were official. The Quest was happening. And I just hoped I was ready.

I slowly backed away from the room, feeling like an intruder in their personal moment. I stopped in the oak hall and leaned against the wall outside, unsure of what to do with myself or how to quell my building despondency. Their song continued and I felt the weight of responsibly, tinged with dread, settle in my chest once again.

"The pines were roaring on the height,
The winds were moaning in the night.
The fire was red, it flaming spread;
The trees like torches blazed with light.

The mountain smoked beneath the moon;
The Dwarves they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled their hall to dying fall,
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

Far over the Misty Mountains grim,
To dungeons deep and caverns dim.
We must away, ere break of day,
To win our harps and gold from him."

A tear clung to my eyelashes and I wiped it away before it could fall, still feeling the voices of the Dwarves reverberate through my chest. When no further verses began and the air went still inside the room, I left, worried that I'd be caught lurking about and quickly hurried off to somewhere more private. Three guesses where.

I dabbed at my eyes with cold water, until I was sure that I looked somewhat normal and like I hadn't had another miniature meltdown in Bilbo's bathroom. I noticed someone had tried flushing one of Bilbo's hand towels, causing the bowl to overflow a bit. He was going to have a cow.

I cleared my mind as best as I could, trying to reset my emotions. The fact that the Quest was going to take awhile was a small comfort. It's not like we were standing at the base of the mountain already. Though it felt like it.

It took seven minutes and three impatient knocks at the door before I emerged. Gloin was standing some ways away with his arms crossed, looking offended as if I'd been hogging the bathroom just to spite him. I tested a shaky smile at him. "Watch your step. The floor's slippery... with water," I added quickly before he shut the door.

I ambled around, unsure of what to do with myself. Everyone hung about in small groups, quiet and somber from their shared yearning. I didn't pause for too long near anyone. It's not that I didn't feel welcome (well, that was the case with some) but I just didn't feel… like I belonged to that moment. Like we were operating on different frequencies and didn't match up… I don't know. Maybe it doesn't make sense. Maybe I was just being an avoider again.

For a moment, I contemplated going to Bilbo's room but I figured he might just want alone time. I knew the feeling. The study was an option again, or perhaps I could go back outside and try to find that—

"Mind your feet, Emily!" Gandalf warned.

I backtracked just in time to catch myself from crashing into him. Amazing, how I could be so unaware of the only person here who cleared six feet when he was right in front of me.

As I looked up at the Wizard, I felt immediately lighter, like he was an answer I'd been looking for. "Hey!" I said, so enthusiastically that he looked suspicious. I cleared my throat. "Uh, what's up?"

He leaned forward on his staff, giving me a look. "I was hoping you would tell me."

"Huh? Uh, nothing, I guess?"

What was he getting at? And wow, he's picked up on my slang? Impressive.

Gandalf raised a brow. "So, it was nothing, then, that you thought important enough to discuss in private with Lord Thorin?"

My stomach dropped a little. "Wait, what? H-he told you? What'd he tell you?" I hadn't said anything wrong, did I? I was okay, right? Thorin and I were okay, right?

"He gave no mention of your conversation to me," Gandalf said. "But I happened to be in the right seat in the right hallway to overhear him speaking to Balin of it."

Ohh, that made sense, I guess… Wait.

"What did he say to Balin about me?!" I hissed, looking around frantically as if expecting Thorin to be continuing the chain of eavesdropping going around here.

"No matter of importance," he waved away. I doubted that. I needed to know Thorin's exact wording and tone and expression to put my mind at ease. "What I must know is of what you spoke."

His eyes darted around the hall, then back to me. "Come," he instructed, ushering me into the pantry which was now twice turned over and empty. I tried racking my brain for anything I could have said wrong but found nothing too damning. I couldn't have said anything to get me in trouble, right?

"Was there mention of Thrain?" he asked, his tone somber.

I blinked. "Uh, yeah? Why…?"

Gandalf put a hand on my shoulder, stooping slightly. "Did you speak of his demise…? Of…" he gave me a pointed look, "the Dark One?"

I became aware of the cold of the pantry, and rubbed my arms. I didn't want to think of him. "I… no." My voice was small.

"Emily."

"I didn't mention him, I swear," I told Gandalf. I swallowed hard. "You told me not to before and… there's no reason… I don't exactly like thinking about… all that." I fidgeted. "I just wanted Thorin to know that I wasn't going to be a pest, is all…"

He seemed to believe me, which was great. Whenever I was telling the truth, I somehow managed to make it look like I was lying. Curse my inability to interact normally with people.

"Emily, you must not forget," the Wizard said, "What occurred in the dark fortress cannot be made common knowledge, not even to Thorin. Imagine his response if you were to give a name, a face, a location for him to seek revenge. The result would be catastrophic at best." He held back a sigh, it seemed. "The tasks at hand are dangerous enough as they are and already Thorin is a target for the dark forces at work. If you were to reveal what happened between his father and the other, he would need no goading to initiate a war none in this world are prepared for."

I couldn't imagine Thorin facing Sauron, going through the same hell that Thrain and I had endured. I couldn't imagine Fili or Kili or any of the Dwarves attempting that suicide mission. It was hard to even imagine them on this one, but here we are.

"Do you understand?"

"Yeah... I understand," I told Gandalf. "That would be…bad."

He shook his head, lightening the mood in the dim pantry by watts. "Your sense of humor astounds me still."

I smiled.

"Best to make the most of this time, Emily," he said, patting my arm before leaving the pantry. "I suspect the night is nearly over."

"Okay."

I stood in the pantry a little longer, reveling in its seclusion. My head felt cloudy, not entirely sleepy though the thought made me suppress a yawn. I may have maxed out my brain is all.

This was such a long day.

I eased out of the pantry to find some of the others shuffling around, trying to tidy up the smial, Dori especially, and decided to chip in. Focusing on a task would, at least, relieve me of worrying for now. When in doubt, distract myself. That distraction came in the form of a few towering stacks of dishes. It looked like someone had washed most of them then gave up. That or some had been re-dirtied.

I did a snap and point motion with my fingers at the dishes, trying to be cool. "And Bingo was his name-o," I said, pausing after realizing the phrase didn't make sense in this situation. Thankfully, no one overheard me. I looked around to double check. Yep, no one overheard. "Anyway."

I set to filling the basin with water—lukewarm, what a joy—and scouring the kitchen for something close to soap. My progress was slow, but it was progress. The lack of a dish drainer was a bit of a hold up. I was probably supposed to towel dry them all before storing them in the cabinets, but I didn't have time to stop washing and dry every single one as it was rinsed. So I just made a clean stack on the other side of the sink, figuring I'd dry them once I was finished everything.

"Emily."

I turned sharply at the sound of Fili's voice. I couldn't mask my surprise at seeing him appear in the doorway. "Hey," I hesitated. Why was I hesitating? Stop being awkward, dammit.

"You don't have to clean up our mess, you know," he said, his mustache lifting as he smirked. When I saw him smile, I relaxed. I don't know how but he seemed to be the kryptonite to my awkwardness. Bless him.

I gave him a one shouldered shrug and turned back around. "Eh. Just trying to keep busy," I said, scrubbing a spot of grease off a plate. "Not sure what else to do—"

"Need some help?" asked Kili, popping up right next to me and consequently making me gasp and drop the dish back into the basin.

"Ah! Uh, well, sure I guess," I replied, trying to pretend like I hadn't jumped out of my skin. "Thanks."

I saw a smirk tugging at Kili's mouth; he was probably pleased that he'd scared me. "I can rinse them," he offered, "Unless you'd rather I wash? Might save your hands from becoming wrinkled."

I grinned, holding up my pruned fingers. "Too late."

Kili grabbed my hand in both of his to examine it. "How long have you been soaking your hands?" he cried, running his thumb over the deep grooves in my fingertips.

"Not that long, I think. An hour? Tops?"

He raised a brow. "An hour? I've seen elders with smoother hands."

"Gee thanks!" I glared.

"I wasn't calling you unsightly!" Kili explained quickly—I think he still had trouble telling when I was offended or not. "Just temporarily—"

"Temporarily unsightly?" I quirked a brow back at him.

"No!"

"Ahem." Fili gave his brother a look. "I suppose I'll dry then?"

I couldn't help but notice how Kili didn't drop my hand as I thought he would, so I slowly slid free of his grasp. "Sure, sounds great, thanks!" I answered quickly, suddenly hyper aware of my surroundings. I cleared my throat. "You guys should probably ditch the gloves though. Leather and water… yeah."

I vigorously scrubbed at a plate, pretending I didn't notice the silent exchange between brothers. It was brief but definitely there.

"So… you are to be joining us," Kili announced slowly, looking at me sideways.

"Uh… yeah."

We were silent again. Maybe they sensed my discomfort, or unwillingness to divulge any more information. Maybe they were just tired from their journey. Maybe it was all of it.

The water was now cold as I dunked the dishrag back in to pick up some suds. There were only a few plates and five tankards left. My arm bumped into Kili's as I handed him a plate.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"It is fine."

Throughout the previous debate of my accompaniment, I noticed the princes had been silent. And it bothered me. What did they think of me going? Fili had been so unsettled by my presence at Bag End, and Kili had been downright alarmed. Was that only their initial reactions or did they still feel that way...?

There were footsteps behind us. "Erm, pardon me." I turned to see Ori in the doorway, twisting his lips and avoiding looking at me for too long.

"What is it, Ori?" asked Fili.

"Everyone's starting to pack up."

Kili puckered his brow, "Where are we going?"

Ori shrugged. "People just started taking their belongings outside. I didn't hear why. Master Gandalf only asked me to fetch you three."

Fili nodded. "Thank you. We're almost done here."

Ori lingered a moment longer, his expression perturbed. "I hope he doesn't expect us to set off now. I'm much too tired…"

Fili gave a sympathetic smile. "I should hope not."

I finished the last tankard and tried wiping the bubbles from my hands. Thankfully the soap wasn't too harsh and didn't leave them feeling dry . It was probably home made.

"Miss Emily, might I accompany you to your belongings?" Kili asked suddenly.

"Uh, oh, thanks, but all my stuff is already on our horse."

He looked disappointed. "Alright, I… I'll gather mine then," he said, heading for the archway. "I'll check that none of your knives have been misplaced, Fili."

When he left the kitchen, there was a drawn out pause between me and the older prince. He forced a smile and held out the dish towel for me.

"Thanks," I said, taking it and quickly drying my still wrinkled hands.

Again, there was a pause. It was like one or both of us needed to say something but wouldn't.

"So…"

Fili looked very thoughtful, gearing up to speak but perhaps trying to find the right wording. I almost wanted to bolt out of the room, my anxiety growing. But I didn't. Part of me was glad that he wanted to speak to me, whether about something good or bad, I was just relieved to have it in the open. So I waited, not too long, for him to continue.

"We didn't… Kili and I didn't mean to belittle your abilities… your visions?" he said. I gave him a blank stare, trying to determine what he was going on about. "Your last day in the Blue Mountains?"

OH. With Gimli. They were making fun of my "psychic powers". I almost forgot.

I raised my brows. "That's fine, are you kidding? You don't have to apologize," I laughed. "I wasn't offended or anything."

He nodded in understanding but still looked like he had something to say.

"What?" I prompted and he looked grateful.

"Can you truly see what lies ahead of us?" he asked. "Do you see the end of it? The Quest?"

I slowly opened my mouth to speak, trying to choose my words carefully. "I… I see good and bad things happening… And a lot of possibility… Why? Are you… nervous?"

The blond raised his brows as he inhaled. "No," he reassured, his tone joking. "Of course not."

I half-smiled.

"I have to ask though," Fili went on, "Did you know that you would join us on the Quest?"

Oh, crap. Ummm. "I knew… there was a chance."

He didn't respond at first, looking pensive. "Well," he said finally, "I suppose it was chance enough."

I let out a breath. "Yeah."

We started making our way through the smial, a few other stragglers pushing in chairs and the like. I glimpsed Dori hitting Nori with a handkerchief in the other room, the latter removing a vase from his coat and begrudgingly setting it on the table.

"I also assume you may want to continue training?"

My gaze whipped back to Fili. "You mean it?

"Of course I do," he nodded, giving me a what-do-you-take-me-for look, and I barely contained my squeal.

I grabbed his arm in delight, grinning widely. "Ohmagod! Dude, thank you so much!"

"Dued?" he repeated.

"Dude."

"Doowd?"

I smirked at his accent. "Eh, we can work on it," I shrugged.

Fili snorted. "What does it mean?"

"It's just slang. Uh, a casual way of saying friend…" I said, blushing by the end of my short explanation. I hadn't jumped the gun, had I? We were friends, right? Officially?

He smirked. "Alright then, doowd."

I snickered.

Fili went on ahead to collect his knives but I held back, not quite wanting to depart so soon. Despite the short time I'd been here, Bag End felt like another home away from home. I lingered in the parlor, taking these last few minutes of solitude, letting my fingers trail over the polished stone mantel.

"Look sharp, Emily," Gandalf said, emerging from another room.

I turned to see him leaning on his staff, large hat in hand. "I'm coming," I said with a half shrug. "It's just… we're leaving so soon. I thought we'd stay the night, actually."

"Bilbo has played host long enough," he replied with a smile. "It would be rude to ask more of him."

Yeah, I guess so. I nodded.

"Aye, indeed," came an unexpected reply. Balin had entered the room, looking worn out. "I suspect this will not be needed," he sighed, placing the Quest's contract into a waste bin.

"I would not be so quick to assume, Master Balin," said Gandalf.

Balin regarded him briefly. "There is little to assume. I thought Master Baggins made his decision quite clear," he replied with a terse smile, then ambled to the door. "It is probably for the best."

Gandalf watched him go, then bent down and removed the folded parchment from the bin, giving a brush off with the back of his hand. He hummed as he considered it, then placed the unsigned contract on a tabletop. When he caught me smiling, he winked.

Funny, even in the beginning, the Wizard had he utmost faith in Bilbo.

I was the last out of the smial, softly shutting the door behind me and silently wishing Bilbo a good night. Or would good morning be more appropriate?

We were an unusual parade, a company of Dwarves, a well recognized Wizard, the blue-haired girl who was running with children earlier, and a horse, marching through Hobbiton at some ungodly hour of the night, or morning. Thankfully, most of the residents were still asleep, and those who might have been awake didn't cause a commotion over us. Or pelt us with more carrots.

Gandalf with Ororo by his side led the way. I'd been up there with him until it felt like too many eyes were on me. Of course, that'd be because they were facing forward and not because I was a magnet for attention, though sometimes, it sure felt like it. I dropped back as discreetly as possible. And by discreetly I mean pretending to tie my boot laces whilst scoping out who I could walk with. The princes were with Thorin so that kind of ruled them out. I don't know why though. I liked Thorin and all, and heck, if our last conversation hadn't killed me, I could handle anything. But it felt weird, the idea of talking to him in front of other people… like the horror of my word vomiting was reserved solely for him. God, I couldn't imagine the princes seeing me tongue tied and blushing. They might get the wrong idea. I mean, if they thought I was crushing on their uncle, I'd never live it down! You just have to understand: I. Cant. Talk. To. Anyone.

I ended up closest to Ori, Dori, and Nori who collectively looked like I was invading their personal space. I was like three feet away, guys. Stop. We have to play nice.

Seeing as they weren't outwardly hostile, and I was starting to get really tired (and my good judgement goes right out the window when I'm tired), I decided that I might as well start trying to win them over. "So… Is this your first time in the Shire?" I asked, smiling widely.

The brothers stared, waiting for me to sheepishly back off, but I kept smiling, making it painfully obvious that this was going to be a conversation.

Dori sighed. "Yes." Ori nodded with him.

Nori sniffed. "No."

Dori shot him a disapproving look.

"Oh, really? That's cool, er, neat. What brought you here before?"

Nori looked me over with narrowed eyes. "Business."

His tone suggested not to pry more. Shady, much? But okay. His brothers looked equally unwilling to keep the conversation going. I couldn't tell if it was because of me or if they were just tired from their travels.

"It's my first time here," I told them, gaining back their attention. "I'd heard about it before but being here… I think it's pretty charming, don't you? All of the hills…and cute doors. I know it's probably too dark to tell but they're all different in some way, like the doorknobs and frames and well, the colors, of course, but… it's just really nice."

The air of dismay surrounding them lifted slightly as I talked; I'd like to think because of my sincerity and hopefully adorable gushing about smial doors. Nonetheless, Dori gave a few nods, taking a look at some of the passing yards. "It's quaint," he admitted.

I smiled, feeling a little less on edge now that he'd spoken to me without any disdain in his voice. Plus one for me. "I'd have liked to sight see a bit more, to be honest, maybe take a picture or two."

Dori rolled his eyes suddenly but Nori looked pleased, leaning over his brothers to talk. "There was a fancy picture or two in Mister Baggins' home, did you see? Shiny gold frames. More than worth the trouble of taking if your coat's wide enough," he winked, then shot a sour look at Dori. "They're still there."

My eyebrows shot up. "Oh, I didn't mean take as in take. Like steal. I meant…" They didn't have cameras, Em. "I meant to say draw. Sorry."

Nori looked a bit disappointed but not surprised. He seemed like he was let down too often for things to faze him anymore. The other two looked a bit brighter though. I wanted to strike up a artsy conversation with Ori, knowing that he was a writer and artist, but even though he was smiling, his head was bent and he was picking at a loose thread on his gloves. It was universal introvert language for "please don't talk to me". I could respect that.

So I let the talk die down and settled for a comfortable silence. Relishing in our walk and what sights nighttime Shire had to offer. Everyone was mostly quiet, a few low conversations going, Bofur's distinct voice cutting through most of them. It felt a little cool, doing and seeing things that weren't in the film. Like this was behind the scenes footage. Well, I guess that's exactly what it was.

"Do you know where we're going?" Ori asked. "I hope we're not starting the Quest tonight."

Dori shushed him, "We can't be speaking about that out here, in the open. Anyone could hear!"

"Sorry."

I looked ahead to the front of the line, trying to figure out where Gandalf was taking us. "I think… We're probably going to the Green Dragon," I answered, despite the question not being directed at me.

"Already?" sputtered Dori. "How many dragons are there? I thought we only had to deal with one!"

"No, no," I stopped him, waving my hands. "Not a real dragon."

"That's the name of an inn nearby," Nori explained. "We'll probably spend the night."

"Thank goodness," sighed Ori.

Nori raised a brow at me. "Thought this was your first time in the Shire. How is it that you're already familiar with it?"

"I'm not… well, I know a bit around this area," I said, hesitantly. "I was hanging around the inn earlier today. It just seems like a logical place to go…"

That wasn't suspicious, was it?

Nori nodded, not commenting anymore, and I was pretty sure he believed me. I mean, it was the truth. I had been mulling around for hours, regardless of memorizing film locations.

Aaand, I was right. We followed Bywater Pool until we reached the inn. It was quiet but there were lights on inside, just a few low candles in the windows to show that it was open for business.

Gandalf stood aside with our horse, motioning for the others to go in. It took a few moments for the sleepy Dwarves to cram inside without blocking the entrance for the others. When I was near the Wizard, he handed me my backpack which I gratefully accepted. I just felt weird without it.

"I'll be in after you," he reassured. "Once I get our companion settled in the stalls."

"Alrighty," I replied, following the Dwarves.

The Green Dragon was warmly lit, and mostly empty, save for the sleeping inn keeper and a few Hobbits at the bar in the back, who were also, mostly asleep. It was drop dead gorgeous inside, more than I'd recalled from the films. The woodwork was just nuts. Over the counter was a huge carving of a serpentine dragon, painted green and yellow, and on every archway, pillar, barrel face and door were innate etches of grapevines and other plants.

The constant dinging of a bell started to grate on my ears, and I'd realized I'd been tuning it out until now. I quickly found the cause: Oin was hitting the service bell at the counter, hoping to rouse the inn keeper.

"Oh, enough of it," growled Dwalin, snatching the bell from Oin's reach, and shaking the Hobbit as gently as his patience would allow, which was surprisingly pretty gentle.

With a loud snore and a shout of surprise at seeing his front room packed with Dwarves, the sleepy Hobbit at the desk began to accommodate us all. From what I overheard there were barely enough rooms available as several Hobbits from Frogmorton had booked out some for the week. Luckily, Gandalf had found the time to stop in earlier and reserve some. Clever. There were six rooms booked with three beds to a room, and one with a single larger-than-Hobbit bed (for the occasional far off traveler). It was when everyone started pairing up that I felt nervous. I looked around frantically, and rushed over to Gandalf who'd snuck in awhile ago and was lingering by the doors.

"So… I'm bunking with you, right?"

Gandalf raised his brows. "Hmm? Oh, no. I think it best if I take one of the larger beds—after the Hobbit-sized beds in the Prancing Pony, I fear my back would not forgive me if I tried them again," he said, trying to look elderly and sympathetic. "Besides, it may do you some good to become more acquainted with the company."

I tried to whine and protest, but the Wizard was already ushering me towards the gaggle of Dwarves. I scanned over them. It seemed they were finished making sleeping arrangements—lucky me—so I was basically there to muck up everything and intrude. Again.

"Wait," I hissed. "Couldn't I just sleep on the floor in your room?"

"Nonsense, Emily."

"But I… I could sleep on one of these chairs!"

Ori, Dori, and Nori had, unsurprisingly, taken a room. And Bifur and Bombur took another; the latter, I overheard, having to use two of the beds so that left Bofur to bunk with Oin and Gloin, who seemed a little less happy about it than the merry flutist. That just left the royals. Yay me. Though I suppose, they'd be a little more tolerant than some of the others (cough, Gloin, cough) who seemed against my very existence.

I mentally groaned as we approached, wishing that my tugging on Gandalf's sleeve would deter him. It didn't.

"Excuse me. Emily here is without a room," he said, getting straight to the point. "Would you mind her lodging amongst you?"

Five pairs of eyes turned to me at once and for a moment, no one spoke. I couldn't even look up from my shoes—dear god. It was like when the teacher asks the class to get into groups and since you don't know anyone, you just sit there until you're alone like a poor schmuck and then the teacher notices and asks why you're all by yourself and pushes you on a group that doesn't have a choice. There was a lot of that going on tonight.

I could feel my face burning.

"We have a spare bed between us," Thorin said in a resigned voice. "There is no problem."

"Splendid. Good night until the morrow," the Wizard said, clapping me on the shoulder, and he left us. Or he left me, like a sack of potatoes on someone's doorstep.

That didn't make sense. God, I can't think straight. Or be straight. Hey-o!

I need sleep.

And to say something. Quickly!

"Er, thanks," I started to say but my words were drowned out by Kili who'd spoken at the same time.

"You can board with us!" he beamed. "Wouldn't she be welcome, brother?"

Fili gave me a nod. "Of course she would be."

I gave them a small smile.

Kili looked like a kid at Christmas, about to sneak a present before his parents woke up. I had a hunch that his enthusiasm had more to do with prying some juicy info outta me than getting up to any teenage naughtiness. I assume.

I saw Thorin share a deadpanned look with Balin and Dwalin, and the eldest of the three spoke up. "Actually, lads, I think it would be best if Miss Emily stayed with us. We still have some of the financial details of our business to sort out, if you don't mind?" he said, turning to me with an apologetic smile.

"No, that's cool, er, fine," I answered, feeling a bit relieved. As much as I liked the princes, I wasn't sure if I was ready to have my brain picked for the rest of the night. "If you're sure that's okay? And stuff?"

"Certainly. Shall we?"

I could do this without being awkward. Dwalin doesn't know I shot him in the leg. There's no way he could know. I hope. Besides, I doubt he could be any more indifferent and grumpy towards me. My awkward recall reminded me that he'd definitely seen me spill a drink down my shirt though. Of all the Dwarves, it'd have to be him knowing that I was a total goof.

The rooms were in the back, running parallel to the bar and restaurant. I walked with the five up the stairs and down the left hall, where Fili, Kili, and Thorin turned off and into a room, bidding us goodnight. For a split second, I'd been nervous about the possibility of bunking with Thorin but now, having him seemed like it'd be a blessing. With wide eyes, I stared straight ahead, the realization hitting me that I was staying with two almost complete strangers. Who they were aside, I can't handle these sleepover situations well.

The first time I'd stayed over Jen's and I didn't know her parents very well… Long story short, I almost peed my pants because I was too scared to walk past their room to get to the bathroom.

But this was like sleeping in the parents' room. Kind of.

"Here we are," drawled Balin, stopping in front of a door marked IX.

I waited anxiously behind the white-bearded Dwarf as he unlocked the door, shoulder to shoulder with Dwalin who was almost even in height with me. I was taller.

The room was dimly lit by the natural light outside and the lanterns from the hall. I followed them slowly, only walking fully in after an oil lamp was lit and I could see. The room was plain but in a nice country casual way. The three beds were lined up beside each other, two bedside tabled separating them, and a round window above them.

Balin took the middle bed, setting the lamp on the table to his right. I held back a second, unsure of which way to go. Dwalin did as well, locking the door behind us and maybe giving me the chance to pick a bed. I went to the right; there wasn't much difference. I carefully set my backpack on the floor by the wall and sat on the bed to kick off my boots. I subconsciously ran my fingers through my fringe; it was getting a bit long. I looked back to see the pair hanging their outer coats on the bed posts and setting the most of their weapons aside—Dwalin placed a knife and a small axe under his pillow. He caught me smirking and raised a brow to which I gave a shaky smile and looked away.

Drowsiness was soon overtaking my sense of unease and I was just about ready to just fall over and sleep. I stared at the wall as I did my hair in a quick side braid, watching the shadows cast from the lamp sway on the wall. Mine was the biggest.

"Alright, Miss Emily?"

I turned around. "Huh? Yeah."

Balin nodded. "Now, not to keep you awake any longer than necessary, but I imagine it's best to sort out the specifics of your accompaniment before the morning. Is that acceptable?"

I wanted nothing more than to fall face first onto my pillow but, I'd be a jerk to actually say that. He'd already gotten out blank parchment and ink.

"Sure," I said, getting more comfortable on the bed.

I watched as Balin scribbled a bit with his quill, the scratching sound and Dwalin's shifting on his mattress the only sounds in the room.

"I will need some additional information, if you don't mind," Balin told me. "For specificity's sake."

I felt apprehensive but nodded. "No problem."

"May I have your full name?"

"Emily Anne Parker. And that's Anne with two 'n's and an 'e'," I added.

He nodded slowly. "And you are under the custody of one, Gandalf the Grey?"

I thought about mentioning my parents for a split second, because it seemed wrong to pretend that they didn't exist, but that was a can of worms I didn't want to open.

"Miss Emily?" Balin pressed.

"Well," I said, trying to look thoughtful. "I thought maybe the Blue Wizards counted but since I'm not with them… Gandalf's fine." I nodded my head, feeling decisive. "Gandalf, yeah."

"Alright. Your place of residence?"

"My…"

"Where do you live, dear?" Balin asked politely.

"Like… right now or…? B-because Gandalf's kind of the Wandering Wizard, so, heh, he's doesn't really have a permanent place. At least I don't think," I rambled, started to lose my cool. There was a twist in my stomach. It'd been growing since my parents flashed in my mind. Everything was built on lies. I hated it. "Or do you mean where I was born? Like do you want an address or a country or…?"

Balin shook his head. "There's no need for such technicalities," he dismissed. "Just where did you reside before coming under Mister Gandalf's guardianship?"

"Hogwarts," I said without missing a beat.

"I beg your pardon?"

Dwalin rolled over to give me a strange look.

"Hogwarts," I said again.

"Hog… warts?"

"Yeah, Hogwarts. It's one word. It's, uh, the place where the Blue Wizards trained people…" I went on, fully committed to it now. For some reason, I just couldn't get myself to name Massachusetts like I had to Bilbo. I just couldn't. It made me sick. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Balin gave me a long stare before going back to the parchment again. "Hogwarts…" he said, writing it out. "And your role to Thorin and Co. would be... the same as Mister Gandalf's? Advisor of magical affairs?"

I shrugged. "Sounds good to me."

Balin stared, giving me a look that said I-do-hope-you-are-taking-this-seriously.

I cleared my throat. "I mean, that's accurate."

"Mhm. And as you are not technically a member of the company, you are aware that should our goal be met, you are not guaranteed any monetary compensation?"

I nodded once. "Right."

"What of your motivations?"

"Huh?"

"For your accompaniment?" he said, "Surely, it's not pure obligation?"

I faltered. "N-no. But… it's… confidential?"

The brothers stared, openly curious. "I… spoke with Thorin about it… i-i-if he wants to mention it, I… w-well, that's alright, I guess. But… it's kind of personal, if that's alright…?"

"That's fine, lass," said Dwalin, surprising me. I realized I'd been gripping my arms tightly and let go, forcing myself to look calm. I started fidgeting with my skirts. Smooth.

Once Balin had finished writing, he glanced at me and said kindly, "That should do it, then," and folded up the parchment.

"Um… Don't I have to sign it?"

"Oh, we'll handle signatures tomorrow," he said. "They need be done all at once and Thorin's not here."

"Lad's probably awake," muttered Dwalin.

Balin sighed. "Aye, but the three of them should try to sleep, if anything. For me, I won't have to try."

Dwalin snickered.

"Do you mind if I put the light out?" Balin asked me.

"Oh, no. S'fine."

He nodded and did so, turning the brass knob until the flame was low then blew it out, dropping the room in relative darkness. I didn't move for a moment, adjusting my eyes, then I slid under the covers, and got comfortable. Had I been alone, or maybe more familiar with the two, I'd have probably gotten a bit more undressed. At least, taking off my outer skirt or something. But that just seemed too weird to consider.

There was still a slight shuffling of blankets as a reminder of my awkward parent phobia. It was just the fact that we were all still awake, in the dark, like fully conscious… It was like a prolonged awkward silence… Just unending… It's a bizarro feeling, I can't explain it.

So, then I decided (beyond all reason) to do what I normally do with awkward silences. I break them. Awkwardly.

"Um…"

The second I made the sound, I regretted it and mentally slapped myself, but there was no taking it back. They'd heard me. It'd be impossible for them to not have. I'd sounded the bugle, announcing that I had something to say, so I had to say something. Or else, I'd look like an idiot. So, I followed it up with the only thing you can say to two complete strangers whom you're sharing a room with.

"G-good night."

This time I did slap my face. Gently. So they couldn't tell that I literally smacked myself out of stupidity.

"…and you as well," Balin replied cordially.

"G'night, lass."

I bit my finger. Were those pity 'good night's?

Yes.

I covered my face, not believing that I was just digging my grave in terms of death by embarrassment.

Stop, stop, stop.

It could have been worse. If they hadn't responded, it would have been far more awkward.

Keep telling yourself that, Em.

…

Maybe they thought it was sweet?

Yeah. Sure.

I moved my arms to my sides, staring up at the sliver of light from the window that fell across the ceiling. You need to sleep, Em, I told myself, wishing my mind to slow. I turned onto my side, facing the wall and pulling the blankets over my shoulder.

It was going to be a long day tomorrow, I imagine.

Eventually, I was able to drop into a slumber, but something kept me from fully going under. It was like I kept zoning in and out of sleep. Waking up but not all the way, not enough for conscious thought. I'd open my eyes and see the wall, the ceiling, the trek of the moonlight across the it, the extinguished lamp on the side table, the lump in the bed next to me that was Balin, the pinkish glow of the almost rising sun. I heard crickets outside, then soon birds and the shuffling of fabric and the hushed drone of voices. They drew me out of my half-awake state.

Was it morning? It had to be.

"All that I am saying, is that he does not give his trust freely." That was Balin's voice, lowered to a whisper. "We've known him well enough and long enough to know that, brother."

I heard Dwalin sigh through his nose. It was a defeated sound. Agreement, perhaps?

I felt myself coming to, becoming alert as I tried to focus on their words. Did they mean Thorin? I wasn't sure if I was facing them or the wall so, I kept my eyes shut, feigning sleep.

"I do not think his judgment is wrong; however," Balin continued. "I must wonder if he is swayed for another reason—"

"Balin."

"—other than Miss Parker's innocence," he continued stubbornly. "He cannot see her as a hope… as a means to keep his father alive."

My heart was hammering in my chest. Don't move. Don't open your eyes.

There was a groan of a bed frame. And then footsteps. Someone was pacing.

"That isn't his intention," Dwalin said. When he spoke, his voice had moved. He must've walked closer to the door. "If anything at all, it is the opposite. He would spend so much time obsessing, going off and traveling by his lonesome to find him. Now, he has. Now, he can stop."

Balin scoffed. "Does it look like Thorin has stopped?"

"This is different."

"It is not," Balin said, his tone harsher. "I was with his father when he set off for the mountain. I saw how it drove him to madness, long before any 'dark entity' intercepted him."

Dwalin was silent, but I could feel the tension in the room like a thick fog. I almost jumped when Balin spoke again. This time his voice was lower, sadder.

"We reached as far as the eaves of the Greenwood," he sighed. "The group of us awoke to find our king gone… We searched the woods for days, looking for any sign of him or a struggle but it was clear that he left of his own will. He'd abandoned us… Left in the night with only his valuables and that accursed map."

"You knew of the map…?" asked Dwalin in disbelief. "All this time?"

"I knew of it, aye," Balin admitted. "But never have I laid eyes on it until tonight… Thrain kept it from everyone, even his own kin."

"But," Dwalin sputtered. "You never told Thorin or Lady Dís..? Why? They had every right to know, Balin. That wasn't your decision to make."

"I did what I thought right by them," Balin said. "The quest, that map and key, even—it is all nothing but opening old wounds, Dwalin. Deep wounds… I wanted to spare him as I tried to Thrain… Yet here we are."

"Here we are," Dwalin conceded.

Thrain.

This was so much to take in.

Thorin.

"He is not his father," Dwalin said quietly. "You know that... You are trying to protect him from ghosts…"

"Aye, brother. Ghosts… and becoming one," said Balin solemnly. "Even that seems out of my hands now…"

"There is no one foolish enough in thinking this simple, but we have faced hardship before, more than most and have…"

He fell silent suddenly, and my breath hitched. Why'd he stop...? What was wrong? Did they realize I was awake?

Keep breathing.

Slowly.

Don't scrunch your face. Keep your eyelids still.

Breathe.

Oh my god.

"Do you think…?" Dwalin trailed off for a moment. "Khuzd tada zazin ma katakhthizi, ma zatakyili d'asukh galkh."

He switched languages!?

Oh, dammit, they totally knew I was eavesdropping… I didn't mean to! Were they talking about me…? Was it vain to think that…?

Balin sighed heavily. "Ins Mahal taglibi luknu…"

I knew that name, Mahal. He was the deity guy that made the Dwarves… But…?

"Binazrâm hu tada taglibi 'aimu-galikh kuthu tharkh tadishi," Balin continued in a somber tone.

Dwalin made a grunt in reply.

When I realized that I couldn't guess what they were saying, I zoned out, trying to process what they'd said with my half-awake brain. Soon after, their conversation stopped altogether. By the tone of their voices, it had ended on a serious note. They were worried about Thorin too. I'm not sure if that made me feel better. Sure, they knew how dangerous this was, and the risk of gold sickness was very real, and I had no doubt that they'd do their best to help him, but… I knew for certain what would happen. This path we were on… that Thorin's on… unless I can find a new one to follow…

Silence pressed in on my ears so that I could only hear the minuscule sounds I'd make, be it breathing, rustling the sheets, or parting my lips.

I couldn't sleep. Not by a long shot. My mind was racing, going in circles again and again. I pushed the anxiety of the Quest as far down as I could but it left only scattered thoughts. I kept replaying the conversation I'd had with Thorin, kept freeze-framing moments to judge how I had acted, kept thinking up things I could've said, ways it could've changed. Then that would lead back to my fight-or-flight moment when Thorin had arrived and I'd mentally face palm and feel like an idiot. It was pointless, I know, but I couldn't break the monotonous cycle for what seemed like hours.

And then finally, my chain of thoughts broke away, and I found myself weighted down. Not by embarrassment or anything conjured from my past actions, but again from things to come. I felt scared. Terrified, actually. Before, the Quest had been so far away… something jotted down on my mental to-do list. But it was happening. Right now. It was real.

No matter how many times I said it or thought it, I couldn't quite process the fact that people relied on me. Unknowingly, sure. But this was… I was the type of person to stress out over a major essay months before the due date, yet, somehow, despite all of my worrying, wouldn't start it until the last possible moment to get it done. Now put a life in place of that essay. Or lives. There were lives depending on me. And not just anyone's—people I knew and cared about.

Forcing my eyes shut, I tried to clear my mind, make it go blank. I had to sleep. I had to be prepared for tomorrow. I couldn't deal with this now.

I'd had so many restless nights in these past months, so many times that I'd been so afraid of what was to come that I didn't dare shut my eyes. But some of those nights, I could. Because he was there. And we were both afraid together. And we had to sleep to be ready for an attack that could come at any moment. I'd managed to sleep then.

My eyes stung, and my hand quickly found the metal piece in my hair. I rubbed my thumb over it subconsciously.

I'd had him.

I still do, I tried to tell myself but I only half believed it. How do you have someone when can't hold them or talk to them? What good is it?

I squeezed the clasp in my hand hard. Force my mind blank. Focus on something. Something strong.

Those nights, if he was feeling like himself, we'd huddle away from the cell door as far as his chains would allow. I could remember the feel of my face on his beard, grizzled and rough with colds bits of ornament under my cheek. Those nights, he would lull us both to sleep with a song he'd long forgotten the lyrics to. I could recall the melody… slow and somber but still somehow proud, like it had been about a hero who'd defeated their enemies but died in the process. I could almost still hear him, that deep hum in his chest. Those nights, it was the last thing I'd hear before falling asleep and hoping that we'd both wake up in one piece.

Maybe I did still have him.

Footnotes:

1) You may have noticed that I added some verses in the Misty Mountain song, some of which aren't sung at Bag End but later on in the book, like at Beorn's. I couldn't resist—wish they'd sung the whole thing in the film!

2) Khuzdul translations: "Khuzd tada zazin ma katakhthizi, ma zatakyili d'asukh galkh" = "A dwarf that cannot endure the bad, will not live to see the good"

"Ins Mahal taglibi luknu" = "As Mahal would speak/ It is the truth"

"Binazrâm hu tada taglibi 'aimu-galikh kuthu tharkh tadishi" = "Faithless is he who says farewell when the road darkens."

3) I changed one thing from canon here. Originally it was both Balin and Dwalin who went with Thrain to reclaim Erebor, but I chose to have Dwalin stay behind. I think he'd have been more inclined to tell Thorin everything concerning the Quest/ his father which, I think, would have led to Thorin getting involved early on.