Disclaimer: I do not own any material that you recognize, nor do I make any money from this.

AN: I should probably mention that this is a pretty heavy chapter that references and implies some dark themes. Consider this a trigger warning. Also, Gemma's secret from her past is revealed (sort of)!

Chapter 13: State of Mind

"You can't patch a wounded soul with a Band-Aid."

― Michael Connelly, The Black Echo

The Company sprinted down the hillside, the wargs and orcs hot on their tail. Thorin pushed the others forward, urging them to run faster. And then they came to the cliff edge; it was a dead end, blocking off every way so that they could only return the way they'd come, which was, of course, blocked by an army of beasts thirsty for their blood.

A few wargs caught up to them, and Thorin saw Bilbo stab one with his tiny sword. As he cut the other one down, he couldn't help but be mildly impressed by the hobbit. Maybe he will prove me wrong, Thorin thought. If that happened Gemma would give him hell, because she would have been right about Bilbo.

"Into the trees!" he ordered. Wargs couldn't climb, so they would hopefully be safe up there.

Gemma pulled off her makeshift arm sling; now that her shoulder was back in place, it seemed to be bothering her less. Thorin wanted to tell her that she should keep it on to make sure she didn't further damage the shoulder, but then she wouldn't be able to climb. And a perfectly healed shoulder wouldn't do her much good if she was dead.

Gemma and Thorin made sure the others were in the trees, Gemma using her height advantage to push people up. The two of them joined Gandalf in the last pine, right on the cliff's edge. The wargs snapped at their heels, but all the Company members were just high enough to be out of reach.

"Geez," Gemma said to Thorin as the two of them pulled themselves up higher. She wobbled on the branch, and Thorin placed his hand on her back to steady her. "We just can't catch a fucking break." They shifted closer to the trunk of the tree, and Gemma wrapped one arm around it, the other catching Thorin's hand and giving it a squeeze of reassurance, or maybe just hopefulness. She didn't let go. He didn't remove his hand from her back.

That's when Thorin saw him: Azog the Defiler, the pale orc astride his white warg, a metal claw in place of his left hand. They stared at each other from a distance of no more than a hundred metres. Thorin couldn't believe it; he'd refused to believe the orc was alive until now, when proof was literally staring him dead in the eye. He felt Gemma squeeze his hand again, harder, drawing him out of his shock.

The pale orc yelled something in his foul Black Speech, and the wargs sprang forward. They lunged towards the trees, attempting to launch themselves up to reach the Company. When that didn't work, the animals threw their bodies against the trunks to knock the pines down. Thorin slipped from his branch, but was caught by Gemma before he could fall to his doom. She gave his hand another squeeze, still holding on to it tightly, and it was as if they could communicate through these gestures alone. She had his back, just as he had hers.

The wargs finally succeeded in toppling a tree, and it caused a domino effect. As the trees continued to fall, the dwarves and Bilbo continued to hop to the next one, until the entire Company had joined Gandalf, Gemma, and Thorin in the last pine. Thorin caught Fili by the collar, and Gemma grabbed his brother, hoisting them up and pushing them to the branch beside their own. The tree was already teetering on the edge of the cliff, and with all the added weight, it began to sway.

And then Gandalf launched a flaming pinecone towards the orcs and wargs. It sent the creatures scattering back. Thank Mahal for that crazy old wizard, Thorin thought. Gandalf lit more pine cones and tossed them to the rest of the Company, who assaulted their enemies with the flames. Soon a great wall of fire separated the Company from their foes, and the other trees blazed, crashing towards the orcs and killing a few wargs. Their enemies retreated slightly, and the dwarves yelled in triumph. Thorin nearly joined them, but he knew the battle was not won yet. They were still trapped.

That's when he noticed the pain in his right hand. It was the one that Gemma held, and she was squeezing it tight enough to make it fall off. "Gemma," he said, but she did not let go. She raised her face to him, and if he wasn't distracted he might have noticed the beautiful way her hair shone and her eyes blazed with the light of the fire. But he was distracted; distracted by the look on her face. Gemma was looking at him, but he could tell she was not seeing him. She had become pale and her breathing had quickened, and she was shaking ever so slightly. But the look on her face, the look on absolute terror, it grabbed his attention and wouldn't let go. "Gemma!" he said again, giving her a shake. What was going on? Only seconds ago she had been fine, running and climbing and swearing and looking out for the others and putting on a brave face and reassuring him and just… being Gemma. The woman he had grown used to, even came to respect, and maybe even more.

In his worry over Gemma, Thorin had failed to notice the groaning and shaking of the pine tree, but his attention was ripped away from her when the tree fell, nearly casting them all off the cliff. Thankfully the roots held. Thorin had to grab Gemma round the waist to keep her from slipping; in her state of mind, whatever that was, she was barely aware enough to hold on. "Thorin," she whispered, sounding panicked and uneven, as he pushed her into a position in which she straddled the trunk of the tree and clung to it with both her arms and legs. He sighed in relief, thankful that she was still able enough to see him through her panic. But then she began to tremble harder, and he could see the pain in her face.

He heard a growl behind him, and his fists clenched. "Gemma," he whispered in her ear, "you must hang on. I shall return." Then he rose from his spot and stalked towards his greatest enemy. Azog, who had beheaded his grandfather, and, though he was could not bring himself to believe it, likely murdered his father as well. Azog, who hunted his Company, the only family and friends he had left. Azog, who had killed, raped, and defiled hundreds of innocents. Azog, who must have somehow done this to Gemma when he needed her most. That was the only conclusion he could think of to explain her condition. He needed her to fight with him, she and her otherworldly weapon which he knew had the power to kill this beast, but she could barely move. This battle was no different than the one in Goblin Town, or in the rock field near Rivendell; the only difference that Thorin could think of was Azog's appearance. Somehow, the foul orc must have done something to Gemma.

So Thorin unsheathed his sword and charged. He'd probably die, but if he took that demon with him, by Mahal, it would be worth it.

Gemma had been fine until… well, until she hadn't. Until she'd seen it, until it had surrounded her, swallowed her.

If she could only have screamed, or fought it back, but no. Her vision went dark around the edges and she could smell that musty smell of the cellar and that other smell that had invaded her nostrils until her brain had it memorized. Until she could smell it even when it wasn't there.

No. No. Not now. Not fucking now.

She could hear someone calling her name, but it sounded like she was under water. She sort of felt like she was too, on account of the fact that she couldn't breathe. Oh God, she couldn't breathe!

She heard her name again, and she tried to focus on the voice, like the light at the end of her tunnel vision. Blue eyes. Who was it? Him… it was… him. "Thorin," she said, or she thought she said it. She couldn't tell because she was having a fucking relapse. It hadn't happened this horribly in a while, but then, she had never been this exposed before. It was everywhere.

She tried to be angry at herself, as if she could yell at her mind in her mind until it snapped out of it. But that didn't work, never worked. So she focused on him, on those blue eyes. She was faintly aware of the sensation of falling, then hanging, then being moved so that she was lying on something. The tree trunk. She had forgotten she was in a tree, because part of her wasn't. Part of her was there, and those faces were above her, and she heard that laughter, and she smelt that smell, and, oh God, she could feel that feeling. The pain.

No, no, no.

Thorin. Focus on the man in front of you.

But he wasn't there anymore. He had said something to her that she hadn't heard, and now he was standing on the tree trunk, running down the length of it, charging toward the monster through the… oh God.

Everywhere…

Surrounding…

Can't…

No, please!

And Gemma lost sight of Thorin completely as her vision went dark.

Thorin charged right into Azog and his warg. It was a foolish attack, and if he were in his right mind, he would never have done something so sloppy. But he wasn't in his right mind; it seemed that no one was. He raised his oak-branch shield and collided with the beasts.

The great white warg pounced on him, knocking Thorin to the ground. He pushed himself back up on his feet, but was not quick enough to counter the blow of Azog's four-bladed war axe, which caught him on the chest plate. It knocked the wind out of him, and for a second his vision faded. It returned just in time for him to see the warg's jaw clamp around his torso.

Excruciating pain filled every fibre of his being at the bite and he cried out. No, this could not all be for nothing. Summoning the last of his strength, Thorin bashed the warg's nose with the hilt of his sword. The beast roared and flung Thorin. His limp body crashed against a rock a few feet away. Everything was blurry and oh, the pain. He was done for.

Distantly, he heard Azog growl something, and watched another orc dismount and approach him with his sword drawn. The thing was an ugly, detestable creature, and Thorin thought, if I'm going to die, I refuse to have this creature be the last thing I see. He turned away as he felt the cold steel of the orc's sword on his neck, lining up the strike. His eyes wandered through the blazing hillside, looking for something to settle on. They found a bittersweet sight; the unconscious body of Gemma LaRoche. He committed her to memory, and then made to close his eyes, braced for the pain.

A blur stopped him from doing so. It was… Bilbo? Thorin couldn't believe his eyes. Bilbo Baggins had launched himself at the orc who had been about to kill him, and now knelt over the creature, stabbing it straight through the heart. Bilbo Baggins, his saviour; Thorin never would have believed it. With that thought, the pain became too much, and he sunk into the depths of unconsciousness.

Gunshots, yelling.

Caught, she was caught, a gun's muzzle at her chin.

Silence.

Dragged, screaming, but they couldn't help.

A long drive.

A cellar.

Tied limbs, stretched on the table.

Darkness, banished only by a single, bare light bulb, hanging.

Faces, shadowed by hoods, towering above her.

Vodka breath.

Plans made in a foreign tongue, indecipherable.

Cruel laughter.

Cigarette smoke.

Matches.

Lighters.

Even a red hot poker.

Burning flesh; the smell of it, the pain of it.

Burning flesh, her own.

Screaming.

Some of the dwarves had managed to pull themselves off the tree to help Bilbo fight off the orcs, but it was no use, and they all knew it. Bilbo was pretty sure he only realized the reality of his imminent death when he saw Gemma slump forward on the tree trunk, unconscious. She was their wild card, their one element that seemed to give the Company an advantage above all others. If Gemma couldn't face this, how would he be able to? And she was Bilbo's friend; she had made him feel like everything was going to be alright even in the worst of times. Now he was alone, with no one to reassure him.

But hadn't he been alone in the caverns when he faced Gollum? Hadn't he been alone just before, when he killed Thorin's would-be executioner? Granted, he had still been completely terrified. Still was. He thought about what Gemma said to him a while ago. Courage isn't about not being afraid of anything; it's about how you act in spite of being afraid. She was right, and he understood that now. Bilbo had discovered his courage when he was down in the caverns, alone. He might not have too long to make use of it, but he certainly was not going to waste it. He swung his little sword at another orc, who had begun to approach Thorin's body. He didn't do any damage, but the orc retreated slightly, and ended up on the business end of Dwalin's axe.

When Bilbo was a boy, back before he had become so concerned with propriety and respectability, he used to read adventure stories. He had always been confused about the idea of an honourable death. Why would anyone want to go out fighting? Why not die peacefully, or better yet, not get yourself in a situation in which you could die in the first place. But now he understood, now that he had courage. Death was inevitable, but he found himself glad that he had chosen to come on this adventure. He had done more, seen more, and lived more in the past few weeks than he had in his whole lifetime before. If he had to die, maybe going out fighting wasn't such a bad way to go. It certainly seemed better than giving up and not even trying; now that he had his courage, that didn't even seem like much of an option anymore.

As he swung Sting wildly to fend off a warg, Bilbo noticed something big burst from the sky. And he had thought that things couldn't get any worse. But wait… what was it? A giant… eagle? The bird swooped down and plucked Dori off the ground, narrowly saving him from a swinging orc blade. Bilbo watched more of the massive creatures carry away the rest of the Company, and then his stomach dropped as he too was lifted airborne. The great eagle dropped him out over the cliff, but Bilbo barely had enough time to even think about being afraid before he landed on the back of another huge bird. And then they were free, rescued by these majestic creatures, which carried them far away from the orc pack. If he had looked back, he might have seen one more giant eagle still swooping at the ridge, fending off orcs with its giant wings as it attempted to reach its trapped passenger. But Bilbo was too relieved to look back. This was no doubt the work of Gandalf, he thought. Thank goodness they had a wizard amongst them. Bilbo wanted to laugh. He was flying.

Then he heard Kili cry out at the sight of his uncle. Thorin. The dwarf king hung from the talons of one of the eagles, unmoving. If they didn't land soon to heal him, who knew how long Thorin would last?

He heard Gandalf yell and point towards a tall stone pillar rising from the water of the river below; the Carrock on the River Anduin. The eagles set them down on the peak, and the others gathered around as Gandalf rushed to Thorin's side. "Move back! Give me room!" the old wizard snapped, and the group all moved back in unison. "Thorin," Gandalf whispered, but the dwarf king was still out cold, and had grown dreadfully pale. Gandalf checked the bite on Thorin's chest; it was deep, and bleeding sluggishly, but a warg bite often led to infection. While Gandalf was supposed to keep his use of magic to a minimum so as not to interfere with the natural course of events, he knew that he would have to use strong magic to heal Thorin. He waved his hand over the wound and muttered an ancient charm. Within seconds, the wound had knit itself closed and Thorin's eyes fluttered open.

Thorin cracked his eyes open. He felt stiff and ached all over, but there was no stabbing pain from before. The old wizard had healed him, thank Mahal. He felt groggy and really just wanted to sleep, but something was tugging at Thorin's mind. "The Halfling?" he asked Gandalf.

"Bilbo is fine," the wizard assured him, then beckoned the hobbit in question. Bilbo came to Thorin's side, and Thorin began to struggle to stand up, Dwalin and Kili coming to his aid.

"What were you doing?" Thorin demanded gruffly. Bilbo seemed as if he did not know what to say, and shrunk back at his tone. Gemma would kill Thorin for messing with Bilbo in this way. "You nearly got yourself killed. Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild?! That you had no place amongst us?" Now Thorin began to feel bad about his plan. Bilbo was looking down at his boots, ashamed. After all the hobbit had done for him, Thorin had chosen the worst way to express his overwhelming gratefulness, and he knew it. Perhaps he had only done this because, after the horrors they'd just survived, they all needed a laugh. He was taking a page out of Gemma's book.

He stared the hobbit right in the eye and declared, "I have never been so wrong in all my life." And then, in a completely uncharacteristic action, he embraced Bilbo. The hobbit seemed in complete shock, and it made Thorin sad that he doubted himself so much. Thorin knew he had been a huge part in that, but Bilbo's actions at the cliff had proved him wrong. And, of course, it had proved Gandalf and Gemma right. Those two were smug enough on their own, but together they would never let him live it down.

The dwarves cheered, and all was well. In his peripheral vision, Thorin saw something that made his heart soar. He walked to the edge of the Carrock and looked into the distance, at the lone peak standing far away. "Is that what I think it is?" Bilbo asked.

Thorin nodded. "The Lonely Mountain. Erebor, our home." He smiled and the other dwarves did too, their gazes tinged with longing. Even at this distance, Thorin saw the mountain's beauty. The light of the rising sun peeked over the horizon, lighting up the beautiful view with streaks of orange and pink in the sky. He turned to point it out to Gemma, as he wanted her to share in his joy. And then something clicked in his brain.

"Where's Gemma?!"

The others looked around, and realized too that she was not there. How could he not have noticed? What if she had not been rescued? Was she still back there with the orcs? Oh Mahal, no. The dwarves were frantic and Bilbo and Gandalf looked completely shaken. What kind of awful people were they all to not have noticed their friend's absence? Thorin remembered how strangely she had reacted at the cliff. She had been shaken, gripped by a fear so intense that she could not function. What had happened?

Just then, a Great Eagle, larger than any of the birds before it, swooped out of the sky, seemingly from nowhere. It landed and stepped back to reveal Gemma's limp form. Gandalf approached the bird and leant in close, seeming to speak with it. "She was tangled in the pine branches," He informed them all in a worried voice. "The eagles had trouble getting to her while avoiding the orcs, but they managed eventually, and she is alive."

Thorin knelt at her side, weighed down by his guilt. "Gemma," he whispered, softly brushing the hair from her face and giving her a gentle shake on the shoulder. She did not awaken right away, but her breathing began to quicken, and she squirmed and kick. Thorin held her down to avoid being hit. And then she was thrashing wildly and screaming.

"NO! Please no! Je vous en supplie, non! Just kill me, please! Don't do this. Kill me!

She was hysterical, still trapped in the throes of unconscious horrors. "Gemma!" Thorin yelled, and shook her harder.

Finally, she seemed to come to, registering that it was he who was in front of her. "Thorin?" she croaked.

"I'm here, I'm alright," he said softly. "You're alright."

Suddenly, Gemma wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, burying her face in his coat and bursting into heavy sobs. Shocked, for Gemma was the last person to ever show weakness like this, all Thorin could do was hold her tightly in his arm and repeat his words in hushed tones.

"You're alright. You're alright…"

AN: I told you it was a heavy chapter. I'm pretty proud of this one though. So yeah, I'm sure you all have a good idea of what's going on with Gemma by now. It won't be fully explained until chapter 16, but basically she was tortured and is now suffering from mental disorders as a result. It's a very serious issue that I've been studying and hope to explore throughout this story. Also, lots of POV jumping in this chapter, which hasn't happened in awhile, including a brief stint in Bilbo's POV. As of now, this is the only time I will be writing in a POV other than Gemma's or Thorin's. I kind of had to here because both of them were passed out. It might change as I continue to write, but so far this is the only exception.

Thank you for your wonderful reviews! I never expected so many people to like my story!

Oh, and the brief little French section, « Je vous en supplie, non! », means "I beg you, no!" French is the only other language that I can speak and write with some degree of proficiency (emphasis on some), so I love to try to incorporate it into my writing when I can, if only to get better at using it. That being said, I do not speak the language fluently, so if you do and you spot a mistake, please let me know!

Review?