I just finished my English exam and I'm feeling pretty good about it, so to celebrate here's another chapter! This one reveals some things about Gemma's past, but they are not the secrets that I've been hinting about. Enjoy

Disclaimer: I only own Gemma, nothing else is mine.

Chapter 10: Moonshine Remedies

Problems are not the problem; coping is the problem.

–Virginia Satir

Lord Elrond led Gemma, Bilbo, and Gandalf back inside to his study, where he opened a cabinet and retrieved an ornate silver box. "Now it seems to me that it's not a matter of wrong spells. Gandalf sent you home, yes? It is simply a matter of staying there. Something pulled you back here… something anchored you here. Perhaps the best solution would be to let things run their course, as I believe you are here for a reason," Elrond said, turning to Gemma with raised (maybe?) eyebrows. That was not the answer Gemma was looking for, as evidenced by the look of sheer panic on her face. "However," Elrond said, "I may have a quicker solution." He opened the silver box and pulled out a black velvet pouch, which he opened as well, reaching in to pull out a tiny crystal, the size of Gemma's thumb, shaped like a teardrop. Elrond held it between thumb and forefinger, holding it up so that it seemed to glow in the moonlight.

Wait… it really was glowing, a pale blue aura emitting from the rock as it captured the moon's rays. "This is ithil gond... moonstone, in the Common Tongue. Elves are gifted healers, Ms. LaRoche, and this is one of our more rare remedies. We use this when the spirit of an elf has almost, but not quite, left its dying body. When an elf is mortally wounded, its spirit will go to Valinor, where it will be given another, identical body in which to live in the Undying Lands. But sometimes, it is not their time, and we use the moonstone to anchor the spirit so that we may heal the body," Elrond said approaching Gemma to place the stone in her hand. "I believe that this may be able to counteract whatever is anchoring you to this land and anchor you to your own."

Gemma gaped at the stone, then at Elrond. "Really? Wow… thank you. I don't know what to say." She turned to Bilbo, eyes shining. "I'm going home." In her overwhelming relief, she leapt across the room and embraced Bilbo, laughing.

"There are a few things that must be dealt with first, of course," Elrond said. "Gandalf's spell is still a requirement, though I believe he may be able to add that enchantment to the stone." Gandalf nodded. "And the moonstone must first build up power from the light of the moon for several nights. In this time you are welcome to remain in Rivendell."

Gemma kneeled down on the floor, still clutching Bilbo, who looked slightly uncomfortable yet happy for her, and just sat there in shock. Soon she would be home, and then… Her joy disappeared as quickly as it had come, because going home presented a whole new set of problems. When she got home, what would she do then?

Several hours after his rather hostile meeting with Elrond, Thorin wandered the grounds, deep in thought. They had what they needed now; the map was translated and they even had new supplies. Thorin, along with the rest of the Company, was more than ready to leave, and they had decided to depart in the morning, early under cover of darkness, in order to avoid any chance of being stopped by the elves. There was just one thing left for Thorin to do.

She had not been seen since the meeting with Elrond. He knew that she had her own meeting with the elf afterwards, and he had wondered if perhaps she had already been sent home. The thought had troubled him more than it should have, especially after the way she had undermined him that night. Yet, Thorin had just begun to truly respect, and at least somewhat like, Ms. Gemma LaRoche. He had felt much more relief than he should have when he discovered her bag still in the bedroom she had been given. So now the dwarf king roamed the gardens, hoping to find the wayward otherworldly traveller.

Thorin found Gemma sitting by the river on a tiny beach, partially hidden by tall cattail reeds. As he slowly approached, he realised that she held a rather large bottle of elvish wine in her hand, from which she was taking liberal gulps, straight from the bottle. He also noticed that her shoulders shook ever so slightly. Something was wrong. Thorin came up beside her and quietly sat down. Gemma did not look up, did not even acknowledge him, but he knew that she knew he was there. Even intoxicated, Thorin was sure that Gemma's skills were sharper than the average man. The two of them stared out at the river in silence for several minutes before Thorin finally broke the silence.

"I take it the elf gave you bad news?"

Gemma still did not look at him as she answered, "No, no. He… I'm going home, or probably at least. He thinks this…," she held up a glowing blue gemstone, which was now held in a wire cage as a pendant on the small copper chain around her neck, "this… rock thing, is going to… to um… anchor me to my home world." She giggled and then hiccupped, and Thorin could barely contain his disbelieving look. Gemma LaRoche was the last person he ever expected to giggle. "Whatever that means. Gandalf did his magic stuff on the chain and now I just have to wait until the rock is charged by the power of the moon. You know, a few weeks ago, I would have recommended mental treatment for anyone who would have suggested that a blue rock could let me hop to other dimensions. Now I'm completely relying on it doing just that."

Thorin wrinkled his brow. "Then that it happy news. You should celebrate, not be out here. What is wrong?"

Gemma turned to him, the glow of the moon catching the glint of tears in her eyes. "I don't know… I was so happy to be going home, and I started to think of all the things I've missed and… I realized that I won't have any of that anymore. I can't go back and pretend this never happened. This has changed everything. The man who I have worked beside for three years is gone, but he wasn't just my partner, he was my best friend. And sometimes I think, I don't know, maybe it could have been more. But now he's gone and I'm still suppressing that, not dealing with it. And my job, the only thing that used to matter to me, I can never get that back. How do I explain what happened, where I've been? They'd throw me in the nut house. No, I'd have to leave, start over, and after all my years of hard work to get where I wanted." She took another swig from the bottle, and offered it to Thorin, who, after a moment, took a drink from it as well. The liquor caused a warm buzz in his stomach, and Thorin was surprised that Gemma was still able to speak so eloquently with all the wine she'd already consumed.

"I don't want to talk about this. I'll figure it out when it's time to go. Elrond offered to let me stay in Rivendell until then."

Thorin soured at the elf's name. "Stay with the elves? Are you sure?"

"Well, what else am I going to do? I promised I would be out of your hair as soon as I got to the place where I could find help, and here I am. What's your deal with the elves anyway? I mean, they seem a bit snobby, but not all together unpleasant."

Thorin sighed. "It is a long and bitter tale, from the dark days after Erebor fell."

Gemma fiddled with a stone in her hand and then tossed it to the river. It skipped once, twice, thrice. "How about this; you tell me the story, and I'll tell you about why I joined the F.B.I?"

Thorin thought about it, curiosity piqued. Gemma LaRoche had to be the strangest, most infuriating, and most mysterious being he had ever known, and he could not pass on this opportunity. Besides, he wanted to tell her how wrong she was about the elves; they were selfish, traitorous, and manipulative beings. He nodded and began, "Balin has told you the short of the story. Our kingdom had become the richest for miles; my grandfather, King Thror, had a love of gold, and he horded so much treasure that we had whole rooms filled with it, mounds the size of houses. But there was a sickness, a terrible greed that came with the gold, and it drove my grandfather mad." Thorin trailed off here. He did not like talking about the dragon sickness. He recalled the conversation he had overheard between Gandalf and Elrond about it, and he felt his heart sink with fear. He did not want to be his grandfather.

Thorin continued on. "And that is why the dragon came, for dragons love gold above all else. Smaug's attack was terrible. The whole city of Dale, a town of men that sat at our mountain's base, was burnt to the ground, and Dale was not even the target." Gemma looked slightly nauseous, but Thorin couldn't tell if it was from horror at the death and desolation he spoke of, or from the elvish wine. "When the dragon burst through Erebor's walls, my people had no choice but to leave. We did not have the power to take him down, and we could receive no help from our allies in Dale. Indeed, they had failed to shoot the beast down. Our only hope was the elves. Thranduil, King of the Woodland realm, had heard of our plight and marched his army towards my home, but decided to turn his back to us as our city burned. He was too afraid to fight the dragon and too bitter over an old dispute, and I watched him and his people, our last hope, leave us. No help came from the elves that day, or any day since." Thorin bowed his head. "If they had helped, my grandfather and father would not have been killed by the orcs in the Battle of Moria. There would have been no need for the Battle of Moria." He did not know when it had happened, but at some point in the story, Gemma had taken hold of his hand, and she now gave it a slight squeeze.

Apparently, Gemma LaRoche was an emotional drunk, most unlike her normal self, who would certainly never be caught holding hands with him.

"I am so sorry Thorin, and I understand why you would be bitter about this. But I also kind of understand where this guy was coming from. Attacking a dragon: that wouldn't be bravery, just stupidity."

Thorin nodded. He knew she was right, but that didn't change anything; the elves had been their allies, and they had abandoned the dwarves.

"But, they should have helped you after; offered you refuge, or supplies, or something. Ugh, politics. You know, though, correct me if I'm wrong, but the elves of Rivendell are not the same elves that abandoned you. You should not generalize like that, that's called racism." She didn't really say it in an accusing way, but Thorin felt a bit slighted none the less.

"Alright, I told you my story, now it is your turn," he grumbled.

Gemma skipped another stone across the water as her thoughts turned to her past. "I guess I should start at the beginning. My father grew up in Quebec, Canada, which is the country to the north of my own. He worked for the Canadian government in foreign trade, and was given a job in the United States at a place called the World Trade Centre, liaising with an American financial company. That's where he met my mother, and a few years later I was born. My mother left us one year after that. She ran away with some other man, and it was just my dad and I ever since. And then, well, it wasn't. I told you about airplanes, right? There was this terrorist organization, and they hijacked two huge planes and flew them into each of the two towers of the World Trade Centre. Two more planes were hijacked, one crashed into the Pentagon, which was like the headquarters of our country's security, and the other into a field, though it was aimed at our nation's capital city. We called it the 9/11 attacks, and they were some of the deadliest attacks in our history." Gemma sniffed, like she was holding back tears. "My father was killed by the second plane; he never made it out of the tower. They never found his body, not all of it. Just…pieces. I had been in college at the time, studying law. I quit three weeks later and joined the police academy. I served four years as a cop in New York, then two years in Washington, and then I went into the FBI academy, and finally made it into the counter-terrorism unit." Gemma looked at Thorin with such an intense look that he wanted to turn away, and yet, could not.

"You do not know how… angry I was," she said in a low tone. "I nearly joined the army, but I decided the F.B.I would be better for me. Almost a decade of my life was spent working towards this, and now it's all gone." Now she cried, deep heaving sobs, and his heart felt for her. "I miss my life, and my job… I miss my partner, and …I miss my father. When I go back, none of that is going to change, and I guess my being here, with all of you, has sort of distracted me from all of this, until now."

Her father. He wanted to tell her that he did understand, that his father was gone too. But was it really the same? Yes and no. He had the tiniest sliver of hope that his father was alive. However foolish it was, that hope was something Thorin could cling to. Gemma had simply had her father taken from her, with no hope. Thorin didn't know which was worse.

She sighed, "You know what I realised, though, once I started this job? That anger that drove me to do all this was so destructive. You can't generalize the people who do wrong to you, even though it's tempting. This hatred built up in my people, and it just caused more war, more destruction. My whole world is just so messed up, so devastated by hatred and terror and ignorance. If you want to have peace in this land, you need to settle your differences with the elves."

Thorin was torn between being angry at her for suggesting that he should be the one to make peace with the elves, and embracing her to console her for her loss, though that was most unlike him. How much of that wine had he consumed as she spoke? He did not remember, but the bottle was less than half full now.

He rubbed his hand on her back, which he did not remember was bare until now. Thorin's hand tingled, and the feeling in his gut swelled, but he told himself it was only that damned elvish wine. "You know, we are more alike than I thought. We understand the loss of a father, and the attack on our home."

Gemma laughed, "Gandalf was just telling me that we are alike. I told him he was wrong, but of course, he was right. I suppose we wanted the same thing too; just to get home. I'm just not sure if that exists anymore."

"Thorin, wake up!"

Thorin cracked his eyes open, wondering where he was. Mahal, his back hurt. It was still dark out, and Balin stood over him, shaking his shoulder. Thorin sat up, discovering that he had fallen asleep on the beach by the river. The events of last night came back to him; the reading of the map, the Company's plan to sneak away early, and his surprising talk with Gemma. He looked around to find her. Gemma lay curled in the sand a few feet away, still wearing her red evening dress, fast asleep. From his position he could see the slight glow of the blue moonstone that hung from her neck.

"The Company will be ready to leave in less than an hour. We must move quickly, before the elves awaken," Balin said.

Thorin got up, but was still staring at Gemma. A little voice in his head said you can't just leave her here. He didn't know if it meant here on the beach, or here in Rivendell. "I will meet you shortly by the north exit." Balin nodded and left.

Thorin approached Gemma slowly. "Ms. LaRoche," he called quietly. She did not stir. Thorin knelt and leaned over, giving her shoulder a slight shake. Gemma's eyes flew open and she scrambled backwards, as if he were going to attack her. She relaxed once she saw who it was, then clutched her head. Thorin nearly grinned. "A bit hung over, are you?"

"Hung over? Please. It takes more than a little wine to get me drunk," she scoffed, though she was clearly lying. "Did we fall asleep out here?"

"Yes, and apparently for nearly the whole night. The Company is getting ready to leave within the hour," Thorin replied.

Gemma shuffled her feet. "Oh ," she said, clearly thinking the same thing he was; this was where they parted ways. "Well, uh, good luck with your journey," she told him, offering him her hand, which he held and, with slight hesitation, kissed. "Oh!" she said again, flushed, "I just meant to shake it, but uh… thanks? That was very gentlemanly of you." She smiled slightly, grabbed his hand again and gave it a strong shake. "There, much better."

They stared at each other for a second, and Thorin found he did not want to leave her behind. Gemma LaRoche may be the most aggravating and strange person he'd ever met, but she was strong and capable, and was certainly an advantage in a fight. Plus, he had rather enjoyed their talk last night, though he'd never tell her that. "Ms. LaRoche… you do not have to stay here, if you don't want to. What I mean to say is, well, you may come with us if you like."

Gemma tilted her head and gave him a searching look. "I… wouldn't want to be a burden. You don't have to let me come."

Thorin wanted to laugh. She thought she would be a burden? She was an asset. She and her contraption of death. "I know," he said, "but I was wrong before. We may not see eye to eye, but I believe a partnership could be… mutually beneficial." After last night, Thorin knew Gemma was in need of an adventure, as Master Baggins would call it. She wasn't quite ready to face her homeland yet.

Gemma smiled, and Thorin knew she would come. He felt oddly pleased.

Gemma was super hung over, but she didn't want Thorin to know that. She had gone back to her room to change and grab her things before she met the Company to leave. As soon as she was alone in the privacy on the room, she let out a groan, followed by a long string of curses, because that's what she felt like. Thank goodness it was still dark out. This was the worst. She didn't think she'd even drank that much wine the night before; after all, she had still been able to speak coherently and her memories were present and intact. She wished she didn't care what others thought, but she did, and she did not want to appear a lightweight. She hated to look weak.

Gemma rummaged through her bag until she found a couple of Advil tablets, which she swallowed dry, and her aviator sunglasses. She removed her now wrinkled and sand-covered dress, giving it a shake before folding it and placing it at the bottom of her bag. Gemma then donned the grey long-sleeved shirt that she had worn the day before, and her blue jeans and windbreaker. Thankfully, everything had been washed by some of the elf maidens; otherwise they would have still stunk of sweat. Gemma had run out of deodorant too, so she grabbed a bottle from the bath area of the room. She didn't know what it was (apparently elves didn't like labels), but it smelt like violets and was tightly sealed. She dabbed some of the substance, which had the consistency of water, on her skin and threw it in her bag. Checking her reflection in the mirror, Gemma indeed looked like she had just rolled out of bed, like she was nursing the worst hang over since college. Which she was. She felt too crappy to care how she looked. Fucking elvish wine.

Making her way to the meeting spot, Gemma saw that the others had all arrived, save one important person. "Where's Gandalf?" She called as she approached.

"There's been a change of plans, we leave without him," Thorin replied. He seemed disgruntled again. Geez, this guy just couldn't stay in a good mood for long, could he?

"Lass, I thought ya weren't comin'!" Bofur called, coming over to give her a hearty pat on the back, which nearly knocked her over. She groaned mentally; she was never going to drink again (that was a lie, and Gemma knew it).

"There's been a change of plans," she mimicked Thorin, putting on a low voice. The dwarves laughed, though Thorin sent her a glare. She probably shouldn't be mocking him after he had been nice enough to let her come with them. He could still take back his offer.

The Company snuck out, taking a winding path away from the elf village. Gemma fell into step beside Bilbo, and the two of them looked back one last time. Gemma wondered if this was a good decision; she wasn't always so great at making those. She was just so worried about what was going to happen once she got back, and that worry would just build if she did nothing while she waited. This quest seemed like something worth doing, a worthy distraction before her real problems descended upon her.

AN:

Hey there. So I realize that some of you might not be so keen on the whole moonstone idea. I'm screwing around with Middle Earth magic, and that can make things complicated and weird. But Gemma arrived via unexplained magic portal, so I think things are already weird. I didn't want this story to be like many others, where she's stuck in Middle Earth permanently. I wanted the idea of non-permanence, the thought that at any moment she could leave, to hang over Gemma and Thorin as their relationship builds, and I also wanted her to have a choice. Plus, I have this thing that going to happen, and the moonstone is the only way to make it work.

I got some lovely reviews, and one person had a very close guess as to what Gemma is hiding. Of course, the details are rather complicated, so you'll all just have to wait and see what happens. Like I said before, the things revealed in this chapter are NOT part of that, but they do lead into it.

I'm sorry if drunken Gemma wasn't as funny as you were expecting. I didn't want her slurring all over the place while she was talking about such an important subject. It just didn't seem right. I hope hung-over Gemma sort of made up for it.

Review?