Here we are! Finally another chapter, and let me tell you, this one is a MONSTER. Longest chapter so far, I think? But holy crap, you guys! This fic has reached over 200 faves! Like what?! YOU GUYS ARE SO COOL. THANK YOU SO MUCH!

Anyway, some replies:

To Guest (Nov. 10): I'm glad it made you laugh! :D

To Real Life Walker: Wow, sounds like your life is quite busy. Four hours of sleep a night? Here's to hoping you get more rest soon, love! Thank you for your kind words.

To Megan VR: Haha Nori is so much fun to write. Heck, they're all fun to write! lol

To Tmntfan4ever (Chp. 7&11): I'm glad you found it somewhat enjoyable in the end!

And another massive thank you to everyone who reviewed!

Onward! :)


The Loudest Silence

Chapter Fifteen


I inhaled my dinner so my Iglishmêk lessons could resume, surprising Balin, who was only halfway through his own food. I wanted so badly to be able to talk to people again. Sure, some of it was difficult to sign, but when it's the only way to converse, you find a determination within yourself to soak up the information.

He gave a small chuckle and said, "Don't you worry, Miss Hollander. We'll have plenty of time for tonight's lesson. After I've put away my stew."

'Good,' I signed, quite proud of myself for the one little word. This amused him, and he gave me a smiling nod, confirming that I had done it correctly.

Content that he would let me know when he finished his dinner, I wandered over to see if there was anything Bofur and Bombur needed help with. By that point, I had kind of figured out their routine of how they passed out food, collected dishes, cleaned dishes, etc. It was pretty simple stuff. I figured if there was something I could do to contribute and not screw up, it would be that.

Everyone else had duties they swapped around – keeping watch at night, collecting firewood, keeping the fire going, tending the ponies, making sure said ponies eat normally and don't show signs of illness or injury, hunting down meat for the stew, cooking said stew… There was just a lot of upkeep involved in this little adventure, and I felt guilty that I wasn't adding anything to the mix.

Bofur realized I had scooted up next to him as he was collecting dishes from a few of the Company who had already finished. With my own empty bowl in one hand, I motioned with the other that I could take a few for him.

"Oh, ye don't have to do that, lass. I've got it," Bofur said kindly.

I frowned at this. Again, I motioned, but with more purpose. I want to be useful, dammit.

He seemed to understand my furrowed brows and slightly pouty lip well enough. "Aye, alright then," he agreed, handing me some of the dirty bowls, if a bit hesitantly. "I'll be over in a moment to help with the rest, but mind ye watch out for snakes and the like."

I nodded gladly, piling the dishes in my arms and heading off towards the nearby creek. The illumination provided by the campfire was just barely out of range for my needs, but the moon was out. Though it was waning, its light was still usable, if a bit weak.

The little stream was chilly on my hands as I submerged the first of the bowls. An easy enough job, really. Rinsing, grabbing another, rinsing… Different from regular dishwashing, since in the modern world I could use hot water and not lose feeling in my fingers, but hey. At least there was water at all.

On the opposite side of the stream, there were trees. There were only one or two on our side, but across the water was yet another woodsy area. A lot of those here, honestly, so I didn't think much of it until the snap of a twig reached my ears.

My breath hitched as I looked up and froze, wide eyes scanning the forest line. Crouched by the burbling water, I listened, trying to discern anything in the darkness, and after a moment, I realized I had stopped breathing all together. I forced myself to inhale again so I wouldn't pass out face first in the water (that would be a great way for the Dwarves to find me). My free hand rose to grip the whistle hanging around my neck, its existence reassuring as I angled it towards my mouth.

I couldn't see anything but the shadowy plants, waving in the breeze. Just the breeze. Just plants… Just… Had it really been a plant before? Did I mess something up? Were the Orcs already here?!

"Miss – "

I jumped to my feet and spun around quickly in surprise, a dish full of water in my hand. The water went flying from the bowl, splashing onto the one who startled me, but it wasn't Bofur like I expected.

"…Hollander," he finished belatedly, face dripping wet.

It was Thorin.

I clutched the empty bowl to my chest like a tiny steering wheel, letting the whistle plop back down on my chest. Of course, after not having a solid conversation with me for half a week, it was just my luck that he would choose tonight to talk!

'Sorry,' I mouthed sheepishly, not having learned the sign combination for that particular phrase. With my consistent need for it, that should have been the first thing I learned.

A droplet fell from the tip of Thorin's sharp nose before he slowly reached up, wiping a hand down his face, and slinging the excess water off his hand. Part of his hair was still wet, though, and most of his beard. He blinked a few times before finally meeting my eyes, and I genuinely couldn't tell if he was mad or not.

"Remind me to announce my presence more thoroughly next time," Thorin merely said, in response to my apology. His face gave nothing away, but his voice was more like thick hot chocolate and less like distant thunder, so I took this as a good sign.

After the small heart attack, I could only sigh and nod. My arms lowered from their defensive position and I gave a wary peek to the row of trees as an afterthought, realizing that I never figured out where the sound came from. It hadn't been Thorin, I knew. That was the wrong direction entirely.

He caught this glance, following my gaze to the dark forest. When he couldn't figure out why I was looking, or why I was so tense in the first place, he made eye contact with me again. A slightly downward angle of his chin and a gentle lift of his brows were all he needed to ask me what was wrong.

I suddenly felt like I was being a paranoid fraidy-cat, and I wound up giving a shrug, ducking and shaking my head in embarrassment. I was being stupid. I just wasn't used to being outside, was all.

"Caution has been my ally for many years," said Thorin gravely. "Do not hesitate to let us know of suspicions."

Oh. I stared at him worriedly for a long moment as I thought about it. This was just me, being green and afraid of the dark, and I didn't want to piss him off by giving false alarms. I was still fixated on the idea that I might mess up the timeline or cause something that would end the entire quest and doom Middle Earth, so every little thing had me on edge.

The Dwarf King shifted his weight and angled one shoulder closer to me. It was more of a communication than a movement of comfort, telling me to explain my uneasiness, and I realized I was getting better at reading body language. That, or I was an idiot and he was simply readjusting his leg.

Just the wildlife. Don't be stupid, city girl.

The tension in my body seeped away gradually, knowing I was just an inexperienced traveler. I shook my head with a half-hearted smile, embarrassed at my paranoia, playing with the bowl in my hands.

Thorin considered me before looking to the trees again. He spent one more long moment examining the wall of shrubbery and branches, in the careful, measured way of one who was used to being a target. It made me wish he could take a vacation.

He gave a low "hm", facing me with a look that said he wasn't buying it, but would go along with my denial anyway.

Since my twig scare, I didn't want to be by the woods anymore than we had to be. Thorin seemed to share the sentiment about the trees having ears, as I noticed him glance back to the greenery one more time with narrowed eyes, and there was an unspoken agreement that where we were standing felt oddly exposed after our exchange. I quickly finished up the last bowl I had been washing before the interruption, and then gathered the few now-clean dishes I was given responsibility of and we migrated back towards the outer part of camp.

Bofur had indeed gotten distracted by Nori's nonsense again, so it was just as well that Thorin came over to me when he did. I noticed that Dori had his hands over poor Ori's ears, while the young Dwarf tried to paw them away to hear what was being said.

"So then he tells me, 'I don't know about you, but I think that story's kinda hard to swallow!'" Nori laughed. Bofur was hooting along too, finding whatever punch line this was to be hilarious, and Fili and Kili were in similar states of mirth.

That is, right until they noticed Thorin and I had returned.

Whether it was because I was a female, or because Thorin was the universal buzz-killer, I'm not sure, but those who were caught up in the joke froze. The laughter died to a few awkward coughs as they straightened themselves up – well, Bofur, Fili, and Kili did. Nori, on the other hand, still had a little bit of a chuckle emanating from him. On the opposite side of the campfire, Balin was shaking his head and beside him, Dwalin was sharing a look with Thorin that spoke of his desire to hit someone. Maybe just Nori.

I could only roll my eyes at their notions of propriety. I had definitely been exposed to way worse stuff back home, so their effort at politeness was about nine years too late. However, if their abrupt silence was because of Thorin, I suppose I could understand not wanting to laugh at a BJ story in front of your King and/or Uncle, but he was a grown-ass man. Surely he'd heard his fair share of stories, or… experienced… his own? Had he ever…?

The thought of Thorin in the same context as that topic made my face burn, and it slowly melded to other imaginings. Oh my God, Jenna, no! Get rid of that image!

Bofur cleared his throat, standing from the spot he had obviously plopped down on to catch his breath during the merriment. "I can take those, lass," he said awkwardly.

I'd forgotten about the bowls in my arms and handed them over so he could put them away, glad he pulled me out of wherever the hell my mind was going. He grabbed a few more of the dirty dishes after that, and began making his way to the creek, humming a little bit.

Nori tried to skitter away on his trail without taking the remainder of the bowls. Bombur was about to do it, but since Nori was going anyway, I picked up the bowls myself and scooted over into his way before he could make his escape. The Ri brother seemed startled at my sudden appearance in front of him. I simply gave a wide, overly sweet grin, passing the dirty dishes off to him before he could object.

"Ach, what… eh, fine, a'right," Nori groaned with a slump of his shoulders.

That's what you get for pranking me and Ori, I thought, watching him shuffle on towards a chuckling Bofur, who had stopped to watch the exchange.

I looked around for a moment until I located Thorin again. He'd moved slightly, further off to the side where the ponies were chillin', but he was obviously waiting for me to return. I remembered that he was the one who sought me out by the creek, and I figured there was a reason for it, so I obliged.

Making my way around a big cluster of bags, I reached him and paused. I glanced over at Balin momentarily, as I recalled his words of our lesson for the evening, though when I caught his eyes he just gave me an encouraging smile and turned back to talk to Dwalin again. I supposed that was a go-ahead, since we had been on the tutoring basically every possible waking moment. We'd get back to the Iglishmêk later.

Thorin didn't make any motion to sit, so neither did I. There wasn't really a spot for it, honestly, so I just waited patiently for him to bring up what it was he wanted to talk about. Probably more questions of the map related kind. More stress, more interrogating, more of me spiraling into anxiety land, etc.

Inside, I was basically praying Thorin wouldn't say anything about the other night, when the story was told of why he hated Orcs so much and how he earned the title 'Oakenshield'. And, of course, when my poker face continued its trend of being absolute shite.

Actually being there and seeing Thorin wake so abruptly at the mention Orcs upset me more than I thought it would. Just watching it on film, it's amusing when Bilbo is getting all scared over the teasing of Fili and Kili. Having seen the images of what Thorin went through, however, made me a little mad at the two princes for doing such a thing around those who had battled Orcs. I did not miss Dwalin waking shortly after Thorin, to sit there for a moment with the same look on his face. While Balin was more patient, and willing to explain, I could still tell how much it bothered him, too.

This, on top of what I knew about Azog, caused me to grow uncomfortable. Thorin thought the maniac who killed his grandfather was dead. He thought vengeance had already been served, that the Pale Orc had bled to death after that arm popped off like a ripe tomato.

Meanwhile, there I was, chilling by the campfire knowing that this was a lie. I had tried so hard to keep my face down, staring into the flames so no one could see anything that might give it away. Especially Thorin. He was so observant, and he was only getting better at reading me as time went on. (The big, fat downside to communicating with your face during most conversations – people understand your expressions too well after so much practice.)

Of course, I looked up from the fire at the wrong time, to see if Thorin had walked past enough for me to risk moving my gaze. Such a mistake. I hadn't expected him to pause right in the middle of his trek, just to meet my eyes and notice how tense I was. Like an idiot, I stopped breathing because I wasn't prepared to face him. Thorin saw this. He saw this, drew his brows downward slightly, and said nothing as he moved on back to his boulder.

I had already made a promise. If he asked about the subject, about my odd reaction… I wasn't going to lie. I couldn't. Part of me screamed, but consequences! Then the other half of me would scream, but you made a promise to Thorin Oakenshield, you dumb pickle!

Goddamn morals.

I inhaled deeply, pushing these thoughts away. If – when – the question came, that's when I would worry.

I had relaxed somewhat by that point and looked over to him in anticipation, but I didn't feel as nervous as those first few nights. A big contributing factor was the change in his demeanor. It was less harsh, somehow. Still grim and ever-serious, but not irritated by my mere presence anymore. I think he was starting to realize that, while I was an unknown variable, I was also about as threatening as a bag of Cheetos.

Finally, Thorin turned to address me. Right when he seemed ready to talk though, a remaining drop of water travelled down his forehead and gathered at the end of his nose, causing me to purse my lips and stifle a lurch of a giggle. The air managed to create an uncomely snort regardless of my muteness, and I smacked a hand over my mouth in embarrassment.

Apparently this was amusing, and I watched with fascination as his fuzzy face conformed to a minor smile. The little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes appeared, ever so faintly, and all of a sudden I realized my new goal in life was to get a true grin out of him one day. To see those little wrinkles at maximum happy.

Thorin gave a small twist of his head, throwing the drop from his nose, and about twenty more from various strands of hair. "Truly, I only came to ask after your progress with the Iglishmêk," he told me, face returning to its usual set. "Balin says you're doing well."

I gave a sheepish half-smile, shrugging while playing with my sleeves. Accepting even the smallest of praise was not my strong suite. This didn't mean I wasn't happy with it.

Thorin raised his hands just the slightest, and I watched, borderline enthralled, as he signed in the Iglishmêk. 'Show me what you have learned,' he requested slowly.

It took me a good long moment to process what he said, since it was a little advanced for me yet, but the low speed at which he signed was extremely helpful. As soon as it sunk in, though, I knew I couldn't resist. I didn't let myself think about it for too long, and struggled so hard to keep a straight face as I signed what Nori had showed me the other day.

Immediately, Thorin inhaled sharply and looked away as if I were topless again, scowling as he ground out, "Aside from that, Miss Hollander."

The smirk that rose to my face could be fought no longer. Well, what I said was technically true, at least where Thorin was concerned, because hot damn. Who wouldn't want to do that with him?

"I would thank you to refrain from saying that yet again," he said, slightly disturbed that I was even willing to repeat it after the earlier fiasco. It took him a good few seconds before he allowed our eyes to meet again. "Now, if you do not mind."

I fought to control the mischievous grin at his reaction, but managed to beat it down with a bit of willpower. Recalling the gestures I had been taught so far, I signed a few combinations that would eventually lead to actual words, once we reached that part of the lessons. The small collection of full words that I'd gotten down was despairingly toddler-esque and probably made Gollum look like a fucking scholar.

My unimpressive group of words was signed for Thorin, along with the clusters of other word parts. Balin was a patient teacher, thank all that is holy, or I would never have gotten even those gestures right. Dwarf hand proportions were just different enough to make the Iglishmêk a challenge for humans to copy, and it made me want to shove my head under a pony's hoof more than once.

Thorin gave a small nod when it became clear that I was done signing for him. After that, the air quickly dissolved into awkward silence between us as we observed the others, though it wasn't unbearable by any means. Hopefully this meant I was right and Thorin really was getting used to my presence. And maybe picking up on the fact that I didn't want to shank him in his sleep or anything.

The camp was quiet without Nori and Bofur, though not completely, of course. Fili and Kili were conversing lightly, as were Gloín and Balin. Oín was leaning into his brother's discussion using his ear trumpet, scowling and correcting whatever they said with pointed finger.

Upon seeing the healer, I reached up and began to fiddle absent mindedly with my stitches through the hole in my sleeve. They were due to come out any time, Oín told me that morning, so I was looking forward to that. Some part of me hoped it would only scar a little bit, but then the other half of me wanted it to scar horrendously and give me some spice. This led me to briefly wonder how many scars I would actually get on the trip (though if my first day in Middle Earth was any indication, followed by my stunt with the prickly shrubs that left me incredibly scratched up, probably about thirty).

Thorin had his arms clasped behind his back, as seemed to be his favorite stance. While my mind drifted, he took a slow, long breath before exhaling rather abruptly, a signal that could only mean one thing for me.

I stopped playing with my stitches and gradually dropped my hands, shoving them into my hoodie pocket with a corresponding sigh to give the go-ahead – not that he needed one. Questions would be asked regardless.

"Was the tattoo of your own choosing, or the decision of another?" he asked.

I pulled a hand from my pocket, patting my chest twice before slipping it back in. The whole thing felt almost… casual. Chatting about tattoos with an exiled Dwarf King. Yeah. Perfectly normal.

Thorin glanced over to me briefly and I felt myself grow warm when I noticed his eyes travel down to my boots then back up. I wondered what the hell he was looking at, when he questioned with an unexpected tone of partial jest, "Are there any others we should be made aware of?"

Abruptly, I felt relieved, but also like a dumbass. For a moment, I thought… Pfft. Wow. It made me want to laugh. Of course Thorin Oakenshield was not checking you out, Jenna. Calm your tits.

Coming back from this thought, I quickly shook my head in answer. Neither money nor time allowed me to get another tattoo before being warped into this medieval clusterfuck of intrigue, though it was a good point on his part. For all they knew, I could've been hiding a tattoo of Gandalf on my left arse cheek.

The subject made me curious though, and I lifted my eyebrows while gesturing vaguely in his direction. I wasn't sure if the question was clear, as he stared at me momentarily with a frown, so I patted my own ink, motioning towards his entire body again with wider spread fingers. In addition, I signed, 'You?'

"That is not of concern," Thorin deflected with a downward chin tilt and a serious look.

I gave a pout that bordered on duck-face, scrunching my eyebrows together. Spoil-sport.

When my consternation refused to die down and I kept frowning in his direction with mock-upset, I swear he almost rolled his eyes when he gave in. Almost. He was simply too majestic to do such a silly thing, but he did sigh heavily to make up for the lack of eye-rolling.

Thorin answered wryly as he exhaled, "There are a few."

I raised my eyebrows again with a smile of surprise creeping onto my face. Oh-ho-ho. Our dear King Under the Mountain had some tattoos? If anything, this just made me twice as curious as I had been before.

"This is not about my own," he said, derailing the questions he knew were bouncing around in my head. "This is about yours."

Well that didn't mean I couldn't be excited. Honestly, though I'd probably never see the tattoos themselves, I still learned something new. Thorin shared something! With me, the potato child! Learning the Iglishmêk was an honor and all, but learning about someone as reserved as Thorin felt like a big deal too.

Thorin could tell my brain was still stuck on the information he had shared, so he began moving the conversation along once more, remarking, "You knew of Middle Earth before ever you came here."

Not really a question, but it sobered me up a little and I nodded out of habit.

"So why is it that we know nothing of your world?" he asked quieter, mostly to the air. That was way too complicated to answer, and it seemed more like he was brainstorming at this point anyway, so I let him continue without response. Thorin glanced at my shoulder and said, almost skeptically, "Did the Valar grant you knowledge of our history, somehow, before your arrival?"

I'm sure in a roundabout way, it could have been considered an act of the Valar to have The Hobbit published on Earth, but no. I shook my head. It wasn't really.

A moment of contemplation took over. During the pause, we heard Bofur laugh loudly from his spot at the creek, and I glanced back at the two Dwarves doing dishes, but they were too far away to discern actions. There were splashing noises involved. Thorin was not super concerned by their antics, though, keeping his attention right where it was.

"Are you the only one who knew of Middle Earth?" he questioned, focusing me back on the conversation.

My eyes widened for a second and a nervous laugh almost bubbled up, though I pushed it down, shaking my head rapidly. Not by a long shot. At least, in the sense that people had heard of it before. Even though they were familiar with Lord of the Rings, I doubted my coworkers knew Tolkien's universe was just a magical zap away.

"How many others knew?" he asked.

I thought for a second on what words I could sign. Finally, I settled for, 'Many.' It wasn't wrong, per say.

This answer caused Thorin's reservations about my whole involvement to seep through again. He seemed on edge once more, despite the earlier amity, and I realized that yeah, my response was probably unsettling to him. The idea of another world existing, and them knowing about yours, but you had no idea there was even another one out there to begin with?

Our conversation was skirting on some dangerous territory, man.

Thorin's stance shifted and he angled towards me, crossing his arms in front of himself instead of behind. A confrontational, stubborn pose that wasn't quite a warning anymore, but it wasn't exactly a sign of welcoming yet either.

"In your homeland… were others aware of your tattoo?" he questioned. "Of my grandfather's map?"

Already knowing he wasn't going to like the answer, I nodded carefully, measuring his reaction. Of course, the thought of anyone knowing anything about his super secret quest was automatically displeasing to him, so it was no wonder he scowled. As if it wasn't bad enough that I knew.

"Did they know of its significance?" Thorin asked, gaining back a little volume. "Did they, too, know of our history, while no Dwarves exist there?"

I gave a tiny nod. This was making me nervous again.

He stared at me for a long time, probably trying to decide if I was simply crazy or something, before he said, "You claim no skill in magic or foresight, so perhaps another had these abilities? A Seer who informed you, and the… others?"

As I shook my head, I could sense the unease in the air, since he was never going to guess and we were just going around in circles at this point. I glanced over, noting his expression bordered on resignation. Like it or not, he was probably coming to the same conclusion. Then again, he wasn't really the quitting type.

"I am to believe you simply came across this knowledge, with no source and no reason?"

Oh, I had a source alright… Just not one he'd want to know about.

We stared for another long minute when I didn't respond, assuming it was just more of him throwing ideas at the wall and waiting for something to stick. When I began biting my lip in nervousness, Thorin glanced down at the action, but wasn't really focused on it. He slipped slowly into deep thought again and eventually moved his gaze back to the campsite, which I was grateful for.

Thorin seemed more focused suddenly, as his eyes travelled to where Bilbo was seated. Beside the Hobbit, Gandalf gestured to the side with his pipe, likely telling some tall tale to inspire bravery and adventurousness or some other life-endangering nonsense. At least, if Bilbo's little nose wrinkle of distaste was anything to go by.

"On the doorstep of the Halfling's home," Thorin began anew, still watching the two across camp, "Gandalf, I was told, said something of interest. That 'No introductions were necessary' for him when you arrived?"

Who in blue blazes thought to tell him about that? I took a quick peek around the camp as my eyebrows drew downward, trying to remember who was on that porch when Gandalf said those words. From my peripheral, I could tell from a slight angle of his head that Thorin was watching me again, noticing the tells I was working so hard to mask. My internal cringing was starting to not just be internal anymore.

"Perhaps your unexplained awareness of our world reaches further yet."

I cut my eyes over, not fully facing him. Not willing to fully face him, anyway, as he let that theory settle over the atmosphere like some ominous, hand-quilted blanket.

"Gandalf the Grey has a reputation, though I did not know that reputation extended to other worlds," Thorin said guardedly. It was like he sensed the volatility of the waters he was treading into. After seeing my slight twitch of a reaction, which confirmed his suspicions, he asked, "So you were familiar with the wizard before arrival here?"

Great. I nodded, biting at my lip a little harder than I meant to. Something in the conversation shifted when I established that, causing my lungs to tighten.

Thorin looked to be having some kind of internal debate. He studied me for a moment, as I fidgeted under his regal stare, before taking a few steps closer, turning the majority of his back towards the camp. It was a move of secrecy and discretion, making it clear that he didn't want anyone to accidentally read his lips or overhear.

"Upon the cliff side," he pointed out quietly, "after Balin spoke of the battle – you behaved strangely. More so than usual."

I squinted at that dry, additional comment, despite my growing nerves.

Thorin ignored my slight displeasure in order to stay on this very serious track. He felt he was getting somewhere, and unfortunately, he was. "Had you known of Azanulbizar prior to that account as well?"

The world became the sound of my heartbeat bursting out of my ears. My jaw clenched as I forced myself to nod. The world's slowest, most agonizing nod.

That was what did it. This look gradually overcame him, as his chin lifted and his brows relaxed, like I had just revealed the secrets of the universe. His eyes held something different though and that worried me. Something had been confirmed, but just what…?

That was when I realized. Of course. The Battle of Azanulbizar.

Balin never said the name of the battle.

With that, I established two things I wasn't super stoked to reveal just yet. Firstly, the obvious revelation that I knew yet more about Dwarven history and locations, but also – secondly, that my knowledge involved him too. It was a well-planned maneuver to kill two birds with one stone, and he hit the birds alright.

I could merely stare past him in apprehension, unable to make eye contact when I recognized this.

"Of what else do you know, Miss Hollander?" inquired Thorin with no small amount of suspicion; part of it rhetorical, and the other half back to his traditional severity.

There was only one way to answer that due to my limits. Again, with inexperienced and hesitant hands, I refused to look up as I once more signed, 'A lot.'

It was quiet for a moment as he considered my answer, probably gaining back every ounce of suspicion he previously had towards me. 'A lot' didn't quite cover the span of this junk in my brain, rattling around, threatening to get me in serious trouble. Part of that was my own fault though, as I really hadn't accounted for just how smart Thorin was. How quickly he was piecing this puzzle together. How did he manage to have looks and brains? (Both of which were no help to my already weak-willed ass.)

"The quest, the map, the wizard…" he listed. It seemed to be nothing more than the same loop we'd been stuck on. There was a half a second of reflection on his part, before he added as what appeared to be an afterthought, "The handkerchief."

Huh? I did meet his gaze then, curiosity getting the better of me. What was he going on about now? My blatant confusion spurred him to continue on this vein of thought.

"The handkerchief," Thorin repeated, more firmly this time. "Master Baggins did not join us until much later that first morning, yet you knew he would come. You knew he would forget his handkerchief, as well."

I froze.

The Dwarf King had been testing the waters again, and my automatic response of panic was the answer to his guesswork. I wanted to slap myself. This whole evening was revealing too many things at once, like dropping a ball of yarn and trying to pull it back by the string, but it just keeps unraveling the more you reel it in.

"So, I am correct then?" he surmised, resolute.

I just stared at him, unsure of what to do. Stupidly, I had thought this would be a problem for a much later time, farther along in the quest. I didn't have a plan of what to do if he figured out this early that I knew future events, and he was exceedingly – dangerously – close to that. Even just a small event like Bilbo forgetting the handkerchief could be a tipping point for much more distressing information to come forth.

Thorin took my unresponsive anxiety as me simply being stubborn and refusing to answer. He reminded me in a low, but surprisingly calm tone, "You gave your word."

There was a sudden spark of agitation at this, snapping me out of my fretful daze. I made it clear that I remembered the promise just fine, thanks, offering up an acidic expression as I tilted my head in a no duh fashion.

More or less offended by that, Thorin's trademark glare was trying to return. He'd been quite patient tonight, despite the topics that he no doubt found disconcerting, and my reciprocation was less-than-stellar. I could kind of see why he would be scowling.

We simply looked at each other for a long, stressful minute.

Thorin's gaze was steady, though not angry yet, weighing what information he had on me so far. No doubt, the majority of our trip was him wondering how much information I had and what would happen if it turned out I was some back-stabber, or if I compromised the quest, but he was trying to work with me at least. We'd finally reached a good level. I mean, this was Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror. I knew he wasn't just going to open up to me like a bloomin' daisy. It's why I was so glad about the stupid tattoo comment. It showed improvement.

Trust was a two-way street, though, I reminded myself. This would require patience not only from him, but from me as well, and I didn't need Gandalf to tell me that much.

Kill 'em with kindness.

I took a deep breath through my nose and closed my eyes for a second. Forcing my frown to vanish, I straightened myself up from my default of hunching under pressure, then let the breath out as I opened my eyes again. Thorin's deep blue gaze narrowed in the slightest when he watched my demeanor shift to accommodate a look of understanding and apology. I held out my hands, palms forward, inclining my head a bit to reignite our truce before things went further downhill.

This was going to be difficult, yes. His trust was going to have to be earned, and that would take time, but we were making progress. In return, I had to trust that he would accept my answers, and accept that I was trying my hardest to learn the Iglishmêk so those answers could be explained. (For better or worse. If it saved his life, then I would call it better.) A simple pinky promise wasn't going to bust any walls down over night. I didn't expect him to put his faith in a total stranger right away. And that was fine.

We'll figure this out.

Those eyes full of attentiveness had not left mine, and I watched as Thorin allowed the crease between his brows to smooth out a bit as he got my message. At least, I hoped he did. This time, when his expression shifted, it became one of what seemed like concern or maybe speculation instead of annoyance. There was no telling what was going through his mind. Concern for the quest, concerned about trusting me, concerned about consequences… There were many possibilities.

The only other time we had been this close was when I made my promise, the majestic Dwarf King just an arm's length away. When it dawned on me that I could probably count the silver streaks in his hair from where I was standing, my sense of calm confidence vanished. I returned to the normal, self-conscious Jenna like some kind of switch had been flipped, and my hands flew back inside my hoodie pocket as I broke eye contact. I took an awkward step back, but he didn't seem fazed.

Bofur and Nori chose then of all times to return, the former cackling at something the other said prior. Thorin's own default demeanor came back as well – the ever present stoicism he valued so much – leaving me to wonder if I had imagined that whole wordless communication.

He turned away with what appeared to be a nod of hesitant dismissal, while he gave one last look of obvious meaning to me, saying, "This conversation will be continued, Miss Hollander."

I had no doubt. I offered up a tiny nod, though Thorin had already left my vicinity.

Our entire exchange had me feeling drained and definitely ready for sleep. I shuffled back into the bounds of camp, over to where I had placed my things, ignoring the curious looks I was getting about my sobriety while I tried to get everything situated. Maybe if I was lucky then Bombur would roll over and smother me in the middle of the night so I would never have to finish that conversation.

As it was, misfortune seemed more dedicated to sticking with me than luck.

I did not, in fact, see the satchel that had been laying close by my selected bedding area, as distracted by my thoughts as I was. I did not, in fact, realize the bag's owner had left its contents sitting neatly beside it while he went off to answer the call of nature. I did not, in fact, notice any of this before unrolling my sleeping gear and accidentally flinging it into these items.

The bedroll unfurled with a heavy puff noise, as it usually did, but was accompanied by a hard clink and the rustle of paper. I immediately stopped my actions, dropped the end of the bedroll I had and darted to the other end of it. That was about when I noticed Ori's satchel laying not but two feet away.

Oh no. Ohnonono…

I quickly kneeled and lifted the blankets to see what they landed on. Of course, now sprawled out on the ground instead of settled to tidily await their owner, were Ori's journaling utensils.

My stomach dropped upon seeing the tiny container of ink lying on its side, having spilled out into the grass. Thankfully, other than a crinkle in the current page, the hefty leather-bound journal sitting open beside the quill and ink was spared from damage.

That didn't magically fix the ink problem, though. It looked like I murdered a squid or something, and I was stuck in panic mode, glancing around to see if anyone saw my blunder. My eyes darted over the camp briefly before meeting with Kili's. Parked on his spot he had claimed for the night, he was messing with his bow when he caught sight of me and quirked an eyebrow at my barefaced alarm. His gaze travelled down to the bedroll I had pulled away and the supplies scattered beside it, causing him to comprehend the situation with equal worry. Always close by, Fili noticed our interaction, taking a peek over at what I had done as well. The concerned look that cropped up on his face was also not reassuring.

Of course, that's when Ori made his return.

Completely oblivious to the wide-eyed staring of Fili, Kili, and me, the young scribe meandered back to where he had left his satchel. He came to an abrupt halt some feet from me when he spotted the journaling supplies in disarray, and I had to watch his face fall.

He shuffled closer with his big brown eyes still locked on the mess, eventually moving his attention to where I was seated. In dismayed confusion, he slowly asked, "…what happened?"

I shrunk down, cringing with guilt, when I felt the Company's attention shift at the sound of Ori's distress. Dori, especially, was whipping his head up from whatever he had been doing and zoning in on his little brother. He was over next to us within seconds, surveying the mess then glancing at me with a look of reproach.

To further investigate the scene, Ori lowered himself to his knees across from me, on the other side of his supply pile. He seemed to realize then just why I looked so miserable, discovering the spill. "Oh no –! My ink…" he sighed mournfully, picking up the now-empty little ink pot.

"Well now you've done it," Dori huffed in my direction, incredibly defensive of his youngest sibling. I tried to mouth my apology, but he had already turned his attention back to Ori, leaving me gaping like a fish.

From a few paces away came Nori's voice, having come over sometime during it all. "It's not like she meant to. Besides, he always keeps extra with him anyway, don't you, Ori?" he asked with certainty.

There was a long pause in which Ori hesitated. Nervously, almost like he was afraid to even bring it up, he corrected, "Actually… my spare – it was left in Bree by mistake."

It took me a second, but then I finally recalled what he was talking about. Oh great…

Risking a look over to Thorin, I noticed his eyes were a little bit wider than usual despite the frown suddenly gracing his face. He, too, was remembering the same thing, glancing my way, temporarily pushing aside thoughts of our alarming Q and A session to make way for the current predicament. When our eyes met, I blushed like crazy, both at the memory of him walking in on me shirtless and at the mutual understanding of what we forgot in that room because of it.

"How did you manage to do something like that? You're always so careful with your supplies," Dori said, partially prodding and partially scolding.

Ori gazed down at the grass, mumbling, "Well…"

Hell's bells. The guilt sprang up like a bouncy ball on concrete. If I had been using my brain that morning in the Prancing Pony – at all, in any way – this wouldn't be a concern. I would have used the partition, or slipped my bra on under my shirt instead. Even failing that, I could have grabbed Ori's art supplies on the way down to breakfast. I looked right at them! I remember them sitting right there, on that little table! But no. Thorin had to walk in and fry my brain by catching me topless. (As bad as it was, I gained some demented satisfaction at knowing I was not the only one whose brain apparently stopped working after that... Horrible, I know.)

I really didn't anyone dwelling on it or asking questions about what happened that morning before we left Bree, so I put a hand on Ori's arm and looked up to the disapproving face of Dori. Placing my other hand on my chest, I parted my lips to mouth an apology at the same time that someone else decided to speak up.

"The blame for that is my own, Dori," Thorin stated suddenly, stepping closer to the conversation. He had no hesitation, exuding a confidence in his apology that was both intimidating and – somehow – humbling. "Your brother was kind enough to lend me his writing tools during our stay. In my negligence, they were left behind, and I am sorry."

I blinked several times, frozen mid-communication. Everyone became very attentive at the involvement of their leader, if they hadn't already been, and the camp fell silent. Thorin gave me a very pointed look that seemed somewhat annoyed, but was clearly telling me to let it be. Gradually, I let my hand slide from my chest and the other fall from Ori's arm.

Dori was not a happy camper, what with his brotherly instincts acting up, but he didn't exactly feel it would be appropriate to chomp on Thorin either though. He settled instead for replying glumly to his sibling, "Well then. I guess that's all there is for it, Ori. We'll get you some more ink… somewhere."

"Not sure where that would be, considerin' there isn't another town for – oof!" Nori was cut off by Dori's elbow in his ribcage, a deadly glare close behind.

Ori's overall demeanor was heartbreaking, and I felt horrible, wishing desperately for some way to fix this. He was the scribe, for Pete's Sake! He needed his journaling shit, but it wasn't like we could go back to Bree, and I certainly didn't have…

I gasped upon remembering something. This elicited some strange looks, until I hopped to my feet, giving the distraught Ori several "one moment" signals while I hopped over to my bag. He seemed extremely puzzled, as did the rest of them.

"What on Earth could she be doing?" Dori muttered like I wasn't only a few feet away.

"Give her a moment," Bofur broke in, after having watched the whole debacle in silence for a while, "and maybe ye'll find out."

I rummaged through my backpack hurriedly, grateful again for Bofur's kindness in that innocuous defense. Once I grabbed what I needed, I hopped back over to sit beside Ori, who had still not actually gotten around to standing up due to his disappointment in the situation.

I opened my notebook to a random page and pulled out my click-pen. Ori blinked owlishly at the strange objects and I scooted close enough for him to watch as I put the pen to the paper and scribbled a bit. Behind me, Fili and Kili had migrated our way, and now Bofur and Nori hovered over us to see what I was doing as well.

After demonstrating a second time, I offered the pen to Ori, and he gave me a questioning look, but I just nodded until he carefully took it.

He tested it out, in absolute awe when it did exactly what it was supposed to. "What kind of quill is this, Miss Jenna? I've never seen anything like it! Where does the ink come from?" Ori asked, reminiscent of a kid on Christmas. "Is it magic?"

At our backs, Kili poked his head over ours to investigate the display, setting his hands on my shoulders for balance. "I thought you said you weren't a wizard!" he gasped in mock-betrayal.

"Looks like the tool of a wizard, certainly," Fili murmured.

I laughed airily, shaking my head. Since I really couldn't do anything useful with the writing utensils, I handed Ori the spare pen as well to make up for (ultimately) causing the loss of both his inks. There was a long moment of hesitance on his end.

"Are you certain?" Ori questioned, like I was giving away a family heirloom. I guessed it must have seemed valuable or irreplaceable to them – which I mean, now that I was in Middle Earth it was irreplaceable, but I didn't mind. I just closed his mitten-adorned hand around the extra, pushing it towards his person with a nod. His face lit up as he said, "Thank you so much! This is very kind of you."

I shook my head again with an awkward smile, tilting my chin down and attempting a shrug (which was impossible with Kili leaning on my shoulders that way). I was literally just fixing a mess I helped set in motion.

There was a cough and I peeked up at the eldest of the Brothers Ri.

"No, no, Ori's right. Thank you, Miss Hollander," Dori said, looking uncomfortable. There was a second where he deliberated, then crouched down with me and Ori. "You see, I don't know if you've been told, but he's taken on the role of scribe for this expedition."

Pretending to be surprised was a task, but I raised my eyebrows and opened my mouth a tad to imitate the proper expression. He seemed to buy it, though, continuing.

"As you can imagine, being able to write is obviously important for that job. He's been so looking forward to chronicling the quest, and for a moment, well… I was afraid he wouldn't get the chance," Dori explained. "So, thank you."

I was already waving it off, shaking my head with a warm face.

Dori's gaze travelled down to my arm upon the movement. His brows drew downward as he asked, "Have you not mended that yet?"

At first I thought he was talking about the wound, which confused me, but then I realized he wasn't looking at the arm, but at the sleeve itself. Oh yeah. Oops. I'd almost forgotten there was a gaping hole there.

"Hand it here and I'll get it fixed up for you," Dori decided abruptly, in a tone that said he disapproved of my running around with a ragamuffin aesthetic.

For a moment I just blinked at him, wondering if he was really going to stitch it up for me.

My answer came in the form of Dori holding out his hand, palm up, urging, "Well, come on now."

I quickly pushed Kili – who was watching Ori try out his new pens – off of my shoulders. He flopped down with a pout beside his brother, who had taken an actual seat next to Ori instead of leaning on someone, allowing me to slip off my hoodie and hand it to Dori. He tutted for a moment at how frayed I allowed it to get, but then stood and wandered off to rummage through his bag for the necessary items.

The camp settled again, as it had been trying to do for some time, though our little cluster around Ori remained active with curiosity. I waited a decent amount of time before looking up to locate Thorin again. I was a bit embarrassed about my surprise at his confession, though also grateful. It was just so… humanizing. (In a manner of speaking, anyway.) He could've just as easily let me take the blame, but that was not his way.

Thorin wasn't a bad person, just grumpy and tense. He placed high value on honor, and letting me take the blame for forgetting something he borrowed wouldn't have been very honorable at all, so of course he owned up to it. Admitting your mistakes was hard enough, especially for someone as stubborn as him, but admitting your mistakes while being looked up to as a leader? Always under constant scrutiny of your followers?

It was… something else. Normal, perhaps, but I was appreciative all the same.

Thorin had found a seat beside Balin, a small frown on his face as he spoke with the white-haired Dwarf. This something else had me staring for much longer than I intended, wondering what had him frowning. This something else had me looking not just at his sharp nose and his wavy mane, but also at his morality and his determination. This something else had my ears ablaze when Thorin caught my eyes locked on him so acutely.

This something else was dangerous, as I recognized exactly what was happening, so I quickly flung those thoughts as far as possible out of my mind and broke my gaze.

"Does it eventually stop writing? Yes…? But it lasts for a good while then? I still don't understand how it works if it's not magic," Ori babbled, drawing my attention back to our circle so I could answer his questions. I noticed he was less reserved when talking about his passion, as most people tend to be. It was sweet, and I was more than happy to teach him what he wanted to know about my weird writing utensils, especially since he had been so gracious in helping with the Iglishmêk.

The others had scooted closer to Ori and me by then, listening in as Ori tried the pens out in his own journal. Bofur and Nori were right there beside us, chatting up a storm.

"That really is a peculiar little thing though," Nori said in reference to the pen.

"Of course!" Bofur laughed. "She is from a different world, after all. Ye should see the tiny paintin' she carries in her bag – most detail I've ever seen on something so small, it's unbelievable! Do ye have it with you, Miss Hollander? You should show 'em!"

Upon being addressed, I looked to him and sadly shook my head, waving a hand in the direction of the Shire. Er, what I thought was the right direction, anyway. His brows came together, not used to having to think on my miming for very long before understanding. To clarify, I made a big circle in the air with my hands in allusion to a Hobbit door, and pointed to Bilbo, slowly signing, 'House.'

"Ah, you left behind, in Hobbiton?" Bofur concluded. "Shame. It was truly something."

Nori was definitely engrossed now, leaning forward from his spot on the ground. "I'm sure she brought some other unusual things with her at least – have you seen that bag? Definition of unusual, right there."

I raised an eyebrow at him as they casually talked about my stuff.

"No offense meant, of course," Nori said to me. His eyeballs immediately went back to my bag and I heaved a sigh, knowing there was nothing for it but to show them, or they'd be wondering for the entire damn trip.

Everyone was winding down for the evening as I dragged my backpack over, unzipping it and pulling out a few things. On one side of the fire, we had my cluster of nosy Dwarves – plus one Hobbit who had meandered over without us even noticing – and on the other, we had everyone else who was trying to act like they weren't interested in my otherworldly possessions. They were failing, obviously. Even Gandalf was unable to keep himself from peeking over every once in a while, puffing on his pipe, and despite Dori being absolutely engrossed in patching up my hoodie, he still glanced up a few times.

I allowed The Last Unicorn to be passed around, along with my water bottle. Nori tapped at the clear blue plastic of the container as soon as it reached his hands, turning it every which way like a new angle would tell him what it was made of.

"'Made in China'?" read Nori dubiously. "Never heard of the place."

Kili piped up, asking me, "Is that where you're from? Chy-nah?"

Forcing myself not to cringe at his pronunciation, I shook my head. Meanwhile, Bilbo had gotten hold of my book, flipping through it with such a mystified expression that I was afraid it broke him for a second.

"I've never seen binding like this before in my life," the Hobbit murmured in disbelief. "Not to mention – I mean, just look at this cover. How did they even manage that?"

Upon mention of a book, Ori paused in his writing to investigate, taking on the Christmas expression once again when he spotted it.

Their reactions were so entertaining. I just sat there like a nerd, smiling, watching them be fascinated by items that were completely normal in my world. It was an interesting kind of joy, like showing a kid a magic trick for the first time, and I found my affections towards the group growing again.

A few minutes passed before Thorin assigned the first and second watch for the evening. I took that as my signal and gathered my belongings back up – much to the assembly's dismay – stowing them in my pack once more. Ori found a home for his new pens in his own bag, throwing me another grateful smile before lying down too.

Dori came over as well to return my newly fixed hoodie. I grinned as I took the garment and ran a finger over the row of stitching, mouthing, 'Thank you.'

"You're very welcome, Miss Hollander," Dori said with a smile back. "We don't need our lady running around with holes all in her clothing, now do we?"

I bit back a giggle and shook my head, watching him depart to begin his watch for the night. I was correct. He did not approve of my ragamuffin aesthetic.

One of the last ones to do so, I re-arranged my own bedroll between Bofur and apparently Kili now, seeing as how the princes literally dragged their own bedding over to our group mid-way through everything without my noticing. I stood there for a moment with my arms crossed before finally rolling my eyes when Fili and Kili just stared at me, refusing to budge.

I flopped down with a sigh, feeling safe in the center of my new friends. The thought was odd, but warmed my chest, making me forget for one fleeting second what I had been sent there to do. On one side of me, Fili and Kili were finally dozing, and next to them lay Ori and Nori, which came full circle back to Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur on my other side, with a close addition of Bilbo. For once in my life, I didn't feel smothered by the presence of so many people, but instead felt comforted and cozy.

Of course, that's when thunder sounded in the distance.

And the next morning, it rained.


There we go. All I've got for now, folks. Our bunch has run into some weather, and you know what comes after that, so more action isn't too far off. ;)

Don't be afraid to tell me what you think of the story so far! All thoughts and opinions are welcome, as well as cherished! I've printed out a ton of your reviews to hang on my wall as inspiration, so don't ever think your words don't matter. They do. :)

As always - until next time!