Disclaimer: I don't own it and never will, sadly.

Chapter 33: In Times of Change and War

When you're in love, you think you're gonna be interlocked forever. Love's all-encompassing when you're in it, but... really, you can't trust anyone. Not even the people you love. Ultimately... we're all alone.

—Alec Hardy, Broadchurch Series 2 Episode 8

The dwarves stared at Gemma in shock. "She wouldn't dare do it," Dwalin said, but he made no move towards her.

Gemma ran her free hand through her hair and tried to calm her breathing. "I don't know about that. I don't know what the fuck is going on anymore. I have no idea what I might do." She tried to swallow down the tremble in her voice, but it was difficult. "Are you going to let me leave now?"

"But Gemma, you just got here. We just got you back. If yeh leave now, Thorin'll be..." Bofur trailed off, making a vague gesture with his hands. Gemma understood.

She rubbed her eyes a bit, not just to hide the tears building up in them, but also just from pure exhaustion. "Thorin's already too far gone. I can't change him, at least, not now. If I'm going to help anybody, it's not going to be in here."

"You can try..." Fili insisted, and Gemma drew her eyebrows together angrily.

"I have tried! I've been trying all this time!"

Balin said, "You can't just run away."

That made her a little more angry. "I'm not running away! I'm admitting, long after I should have, that there is nothing I can do from in here." She took a deep breath. "Look, I love all of you guys; I meant it when I said we're family. I just can't let you start a war. With the people of Lake-town or even with the elves. I'm not... I'm not giving up. I won't give up on him ever. I just can't be here. It hurts too much."

Bilbo appeared at her shoulder, lugging Gemma's bag, which was nearly the same size as him, behind him. "Thanks Bilbo," she smiled weakly. "I'm going to... go now. But I will come back." She turned and left, heading towards the secret door that the Company had first used to enter the mountain. Only one pair of footsteps followed; the soft and barely audible steps of the hobbit.

They didn't talk until they reached the door. "Does this mean it's time for me to... do what we talked about?" Bilbo asked.

Gemma sighed and bit her lip before nodding. "Yeah. You were right, there's no other way around it. I'll be there waiting for you tonight."

Gemma waited until she was halfway down the mountain before she stopped. She leaned over and braced her hands on her knees to catch her breath, but ended up being violently sick. It had been waiting to happen, and she was surprised that she had lasted so long. The nausea she'd suffered was thankfully relieved now, though the thump thump thumping headache was reaching migraine proportions. When she was done throwing up, she spat a few times in an attempt to get the vile taste out of her mouth, and then wiped her lips on the back of her hand with a grimace. Gross. She could kill for some hand sanitizer right now, and something for her headache too.

The continuous drumbeat, thump thump, thump thump, in her head steadily grew until she realized that it probably wasn't just a stress headache. Gemma leaned over again and clutched her head as it built, until she sunk into unconsciousness as if slipping into water.

Images bled through the unconscious fog, solidifying into a scene of a dark cave. Jagged black stone, like broken glass, formed stalactites and stalagmites, with seemed to ooze water, making the cave feel damp and clammy. Gemma knew that she was not really there, but she had a feeling that this place was, in fact, very real. There was a presence in the cave, dark and foreboding, which seemed to suck her in like a black hole.

She wanted to hide when she saw the pale orc, but the very fact that she was not dead yet seemed to prove that he could not sense her. Carefully, she stepped closer, to see that he was looking up at the entrance of a dark tunnel. The tunnel seemed to be the source of that evil presence, and as she moved closer Gemma could see that it wasn't just dark, but so black that it seemed to be made of liquid darkness.

Azog knelt in front of the tunnel, and spoke. "The dwarf-scum have reached the mountain, Master." That was English. It was growling and heavily accented, as if a Russian man had gargled with gravel, but it was understandable English. Gemma didn't understand how, as she had heard the orc's black speech before and had not been able to understand it. Perhaps in the dream-state, or vision or whatever it was, her subconscious translated somehow. Or perhaps the dark power radiating from the tunnel had seeped into her brain. The how didn't really matter; she could understand him, and, if this was real, she would use it to her advantage.

Sound came from the darkness in the tunnel. Or, maybe it wasn't sound. Gemma couldn't really tell. All she knew was that the words she heard seemed to be coming from within her own brain, like thoughts, but she hadn't thought them.

"Gooooood," the voice seemed to hiss. "And the off-worlder woman? She is with them."

"Yes, sire."

"She will be captured but not killed."

Azog looked confused, although it was difficult to tell, since his face seemed frozen in a permanent snarl. "In battle," he said cautiously, as if afraid to speak against his master's orders, "it cannot be guaranteed..." His words were cut off by his own scream, as he clutched his head in mental anguish. The dark energy seemed to spike, as if angry, and clearly was sending some painful vibes towards the orc.

"She will be brought to me alive!" the presence screamed. "I have use for her."

Gemma woke with a gasp and scrambled on the ground, momentarily unaware of her surroundings. She choked and gasped for air, and clutched her stomach as a pain quite similar to that of portal travel washed over her. She rolled over onto her hands and knees and waited for the pain to subside and her mind to clear. Then she staggered to her feet.

The off-worlder woman, the darkness had said, I have use for her. This changed things, because, of course, the off-worlder was Gemma.

When Gemma finally made it to Dale, she was met by Bard at the gates. She must have looked as awful as she felt, because Bard wrapped her in a hug, saying nothing. It surprised her, but she soon found herself clinging to Bard's coat and letting him bear her weight. Gemma was just so tired. They walked to the centre of the town, where the woodland elves had set up tents. A few of the Lake-men and women recognized her and gave her nods of acknowledgement or murmured words of appreciation as they walked by. The elves were not so warm to her, which was to be expected after breaking out of their kingdom and holding their prince hostage. Several elves shot her cold glares, or at least, they seemed to. It could just be their normal cool expression. Elves were like that.

When Gemma and Bard entered the largest tent, which served as the command centre, two people were inside, but not the ones that Gemma had expected. Instead of Tauriel and Legolas, Gemma found Thranduil and Gandalf engaged in deep conversation. They stopped when they noticed the new arrivals, and Gemma nearly sobbed at the sight of Gandalf's face, not only out of relief from seeing him alive, but also out of horror at the awful gashes on the old wizard's face. "Gandalf!" She rushed forward and flung her arms around his neck, feeling for all the world like a lost little kid who had finally found her father again. "Where were you? What happened? Sit down, sit down, your face needs to be cleaned. What if you get an infection?!" She knew she was babbling, but Gemma was so glad to have been reunited with the wizard. When Gandalf was around, everything turned out alright. When he'd left the group, he'd asked her to take care of them all. Clearly, she'd failed phenomenally.

"Calm down child," Gandalf said with a smile. He looked towards Thranduil and Bard. "May we have a minute alone, my lords?" Bard nodded and left. Thranduil followed, but only after fixing Gemma with the iciest of glares. And this time, she knew for sure that it wasn't just elvish resting-bitch-face.

When they were alone, Gemma forced Gandalf to sit down, found a cloth, and attempted to clean his wounds. "It seems much has happened while I was away," Gandalf said with a smirk.

Gemma laughed. "You don't know the half of it."

"Master Bard has informed me of your theory."

Gemma looked away from the gash on his forehead and into his eyes. "Well…?"

Gandalf sighed. "Unfortunately, my dear, you are wise beyond your years. You were correct, Azog is being commanded by a higher power, but it is even worse than you could imagine. This power is an old enemy of Middle Earth, who once nearly destroyed this world. A dark lord by the name of Sauron." Gemma shivered involuntarily. The way he said the name invoked a dreadful feeling in her stomach, like the presence in her dream. A dream that she was now sure was real.

Gemma caught Gandalf up to speed on all that had transpired since he had left: their capture and escape from Mirkwood, their time in Lake-town, Kili's injury, the orc attack, her trip home, the dragon attack, her reunion with Thorin, his sickness, her escape from the mountain, and finally, her vision. Gandalf's forehead wrinkled in thought as he listened. "I do not know what this means, but I too fear that this vision was more than a dream. If that presence truly was Sauron, then you are in imminent danger. Gemma, you must go back to your world at once."

Gemma stood up, hands on her hips. "I can't. I smashed the moonstone, remember? Even if I had another, I wouldn't be able to leave until it was ready. Besides, I'm not going to leave. I won't leave Thorin again."

Gandalf just gave her a knowing look, but was prevented from saying anything when Thranduil swept back into the tent rather dramatically. Bard followed behind, sending Gemma and Gandalf an apologetic look.

"I guess that means we're done here," Gemma said to Gandalf.

"Why have you come here?" Thranduil demanded. "Last I saw you, you threatened my son and escaped my prison. Tell me, why should I not just kill you now?" Gandalf and Bard made noises of protest, but Gemma held up her hand to stop them. She preferred to fight her own battles, especially when it came to assholes like Thranduil.

"Because I'm useful, and Legolas and I are friends now anyway. Seriously, the melodrama isn't necessary; everyone else has got over that whole ordeal. There are more pressing matters at the moment."

"There are indeed," Thranduil said smoothly," most pressing, the imminent war with the dwarves you seem so close to. How are we to trust that you are not a spy for Oakenshield?"

Gemma frowned; it was a good point, she supposed. But... "After what I'm about to do, I doubt I will be anything to Thorin Oakenshield," she said sadly. It was true, there was no going back after this, for anyone. But Thorin had forced her hand today when he'd order her locked up.

Gemma's statement was met with questioning looks, but she didn't need to answer as, seemingly on cue, Bilbo burst into the tent.

"Bilbo Baggins?" Gandalf exclaimed.

Bilbo did a double take before replying with a surprised, "Gandalf!" Then he spotted her, and sighed a relieved, "Gemma."

To which she replied with a nod. "Bilbo." She smirked. "Well, now that the name game is over, let's get down to business, shall we?"

"If I am not mistaken," Thranduil interrupted her coolly, much to Gemma's displeasure, "this is the halfling who stole the keys to my dungeon and allowed my prisoners to escape."

Bilbo rubbed the back of his neck and replied, with some nervousness," Er, yes, sorry about that."

Gemma slapped his shoulder lightly. "Don't apologize for that." She nudged him. "Tell them why you're here."

Bilbo took a deep breath. "Look, if you think the dwarves will surrender, they won't. They'll fight to the death to defend their own. We– that is, Gemma and I– we could only think of one way to prevent this war. So I came to give you… this." From within his coat, Bilbo pulled out a small bundle, which he unwrapped to reveal the Arkenstone.

"The King's Jewel," Thranduil breathed reverently, and Gemma felt a bit uncomfortable with the way everyone was staring at the stone. Was this really going to help, or had they just made things worse?

"And worth a king's ransom," Bard added, and then looked to Bilbo. "How is this yours to give?"

"I took it as my fourteenth's share of the treasure," Bilbo rejoined.

"But why would you do this?" Bard looked up at Gemma. "You owe us no loyalty."

"We didn't do it for you," Bilbo said, with a humourless chuckle. "I know that dwarves can be obstinate, and pigheaded, and… difficult. Gemma certainly knows that even better than I. They're suspicious and secretive and they have the worst manners you can possibly imagine… but they are also brave and kind," he glanced at Gemma, "and loyal to a fault. I've grown very fond of them, and we both just wish to save them, if we can."

Gemma nodded in agreement. "Thorin values the stone above… absolutely everything," she said, her voice cracking slightly in sadness. "In exchange for its return, he should give you what you are owed. There won't be any need for war."

Bard and Thranduil shared a look. "Let us hope it is so," The elf king said.

Bard rubbed his chin tiredly. "Indeed. We're in enough trouble already," he said.

"You don't have to be here."

Gemma looked up at Bard, who was mounted on a horse beside her. "Only I do, though." The mountain wind howled around them, blowing around her hair. "I've made my decision," she said, more to herself than anyone else.

The total combined forces of the Woodland Elves and the men of Lake-town stood armed before the gates of Erebor, as Thranduil had insisted. The elf king believed strongly that war was inevitable, and the Arkenstone would not change the circumstances, but he had at least agreed to try. Gemma felt woefully out of place amongst the armoured forces. After much arguing, she had turned down the armour Bard had sent for her, in favour of her long woollen winter coat and Kevlar vest. She was adorned with the weapons and ammunition she'd brought from her world; she wasn't so daft as to come unarmed, despite the fact that she would not attack the dwarves if it came to war. There was, of course, a strong possibility that the real enemy would come today, and then she would be ready.

The dwarves, it seemed, had been just as busy with preparations, cutting off the bridge to Erebor and arming themselves to the teeth. The lined the battlements at the top of the gate, thirteen dwarves staring down at the army of thousands below.

Gandalf and Gemma had given up on trying to warn everyone about the coming orc army. Thranduil had brushed off the idea as fallacy when Gandalf brought it up, and Gemma had discovered that Bard was no longer completely on her side, the elf king filling his mind with doubts. "My people are my priority right now," he'd told her, not seeming to understand that his people would die when the orcs came. While everyone else looked to the mountain, she looked to the surrounding hills. If the orcs were going to make a move, now was the ideal time. There was nothing to do but wait.

At Gemma's insistence, Bilbo had stayed behind in Dale. Gemma didn't know what Thorin would do when he found out, and she would not risk his safety. Bilbo had protested vehemently. He still believed that there was some part of Thorin that would listen to reason. Gemma did not.

When Thranduil and Bard rode forward, Gemma slunk through the rows of warriors to be closer to the front. She hung back two rows, so that she could listen without being seen by the dwarves. She knew that she couldn't hide forever, but at the moment she would be a coward.

Thorin shot an arrow at the approaching delegates, hitting the stone at the feet of their mounts. "The next one goes between your eyes," he declared in his deep brogue. Thranduil inclined his head slightly, and suddenly the elves around her were loading and drawing their bows in perfect unison. It was all very impressive, but Gemma wished they would stop this and just get on with it.

"We've come to tell you that payment for your debt has been offered, and accepted," Thranduil drawled.

"What payment?" Thorin demanded, bow still drawn. "I gave you nothing. You have nothing."

"We have this," Bard said, revealing the Arkenstone. There were shouts of dismay among the dwarves.

"Thieves!"

"That stone belongs to the King!"

"And the King may have it," Bard countered, "so long as he honours his word."

The other dwarves shouted in outrage, but Thorin said nothing; he just stared at the army. And then he called her name. "Gemma!" His voice rang out across the mountain, clear and loud and full of indescribable rage. "Gemma! I know you are there! Do you hide, like a coward?!" Yes, yes she did, because she knew this was coming. "Face me!" Thorin demanded.

Gemma stepped forward, through the rows until she drew level with Bard. She looked up to Thorin, their eyes connecting. "You did this?!" he shouted. "How could you betray us like this?! Curse you!" Gemma said nothing. She let him shout. She watched him, even though it hurt, even though she wanted to close her eyes. "You've betrayed us all! I should kill you! If I ever see you again, I will kill you!" Every word felt like a physical blow, but she stood in silence and let it wash over her. She deserved it, for failing him. She deserved this.

"Stop this! She didn't! It was me!" a voice shouted from above, and then Bilbo appeared at the top of the gate with the other dwarves.

"No," Gemma whispered, and stepped forward, as if she could save the hobbit despite being separated from him by a chasm and a fortified gate.

"I gave them the Arkenstone. I… took it as my fourteenth's share," the hobbit declared.

"You would… steal from me," Thorin asked in that dangerously calm tone.

"Steal from you? No, I may be a burglar, but I'd like to think I'm an honest one." Of all times for Bilbo to gain the confidence to laugh in the face of danger, now was the worst possible time. "I'm willing to let it stand against my claim."

"Against your claim? Your claim. You have no claim over me, you miserable rat!" Gemma unhooked the sniper rifle from her back and peered through the scope to get a better view.

"I was going to give it to you, but…"

"But what, thief?"

"You are changed, Thorin," Bilbo enunciated. Gemma was thankful that the wind had died down and the mountain was silent, else she would not have been able to hear the hobbit. "The dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word, would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin!"

"Do not speak to me of loyalty." Thorin growled. "Throw him from the rampart!" He ordered.

"Bilbo!" Gemma shouted in anguish. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real.

None of the dwarves moved towards Bilbo. "Did you not hear me?!" Thorin moved towards Fili, but the young dwarf resisted. "I will do it myself, then!" He grabbed Bilbo.

"Don't you dare!" Gemma screamed at him, catching his attention once more. "Don't you dare, Thorin." She leveled her rifle at him, but her hands were shaking so badly that it would be useless, even if she wanted to use it. But she couldn't let Thorin kill Bilbo.

"Traitors! Curse you both!" Thorin spat.

"If you don't like my burglar," a voice boomed, and Gandalf appeared from the crowd, "then please, don't damage him. Return him to me." The wizard stood beside Gemma, and nudged her foot with his staff. She lowered the rifle. "You're not making a very splendid figure as King Under the Mountain, are you, Thorin, son of Thrain?" Slowly, Thorin released Bilbo's neck, allowing him to scamper away from the edge and descend the wall with a rope, provided by Bofur.

"Never again will I have dealings with wizards! Or Shire rats." Thorin levelled his gaze with Gemma. "And least of all with off-worlder women!"

Bilbo made it to Gemma's side, and she grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly. She said nothing back to Thorin. She just stared at him for what felt like a very long time. It seemed as if she was all out of tears for him. There was only emptiness inside her, left behind by the man he had once been.

"Are we resolved?" Bard demanded. "The return of the Arkenstone for what was promised?" Instead of answering, Thorin looked to the northern hills. A faint rumble, which Gemma had first believed to be thunder, came from there. "Give us your answer," Bard asked again. "Will you have peace or war?"

Gemma knew the answer even before the raven landed on the ramparts. Thorin grinned sickly, looked to the northern ridges once more, and replied, "I will have war."

Gemma grabbed Gandalf's hand, and squeezed Bilbo's hand tighter. And so there would be war. All her efforts for peace had been in vain, and hadn't she known it all along? This was what life was: violence and pain, war and suffering, sickness and death. And yet even now… she still had the tiniest bit of hope. She'd thought it was gone, but no, it was still there. "I haven't given up on you yet, Thorin," she whispered. "I'll come back for you, like always."

AN:

Guys. Honestly. I love you so much. The response to last chapter's twist ending was absolutely magnificent. I'm so glad you're all interested in this new turn in the plot. And of course, there was another in this chapter: Gemma's vision. Tell me your theories. What do you think that was all about?

I just had my second day of work today, and let me tell you, it is exhausting. My campers are four and five year-olds. They are adorable, but a lot of work. And tomorrow I'm taking them to the movies via public transport. Wish me luck, I'm going to need it.

I hope to have more out for you as soon as I can.

Review?