See? I told you guys it wouldn't be another year! LoL I also told someone on tumblr that I would try to have this out before Halloween, and here we are! I did it!

My awesome audience, your patience with me has been absolutely invaluable in my writing process and it does wonders for the creative part of my brain to not have to stress. I mean, this is supposed to be a hobby, after all, so I guess that's the point.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, guests included, whether you've done it every chapter since the beginning or only once. I don't think I got around to replying to every one of you this time, but I just want you to know you're all fantastic.

Now onwards!


The Loudest Silence

Chapter Twenty-Six


As we left the Valley of Imladris, climbing the mountainside and up back into the wilderness, I felt that sense of safety slip away. It was like I had been wearing a nice warm, fuzzy blanket over my shoulders and with every step I took, it gradually slid off to the ground. Even knowing we weren't supposed to encounter anything until the goblin tunnels didn't give me the same peace of mind that Rivendell had granted us. The place really had been magical.

And man, if I thought riding ponies was a strenuous activity, then literally hiking for the remainder of our trip was torture.

It wasn't like I was wearing any Dr. Scholl's gel inserts with lovely arch support either. It was my boots that I had gotten in Bree, and I mean, while they were nice and sturdy footwear, it wasn't like the modern shoes I was used to. I had time to adjust to them during the first portion of our trip, but given that most of that had been pony riding, there wasn't much reason to go test them on extended walks.

This was as extended as it got, though – walking across Middle Earth with a bunch of Dwarves and one Hobbit. Y'know, unless I wanted to wait 60+ years to go with the Fellowship and break my personal record.

Regardless, the most difficult part of being back on the road, besides the fact that it was a hike from hell, was the strange new tension in the group.

Prior to the encounter with the Wargs and the Orcs, the Company had no idea they were being followed. Thorin may have had a hunch, what with the shiny price on his head and the bounty written in Black Speech that Gandalf showed him, but I'm sure he didn't expect it to quite this extent. Either way, the others in our group were aware we were being followed now, and that shifted something.

It didn't stop Bofur from talking our ears off, or Nori from cracking a few lewd jokes here and there, but everyone was twice as mindful of their surroundings and just as jumpy. A snapping twig a few feet away could mean a Warg's teeth in your neck if you weren't fast enough.

To them, at least. It was an odd feeling, soaking in these tense emotions from everybody and knowing – logically, anyway – that we were safe for now. My brain told me we had plenty of time before confrontation; that our next obstacle would be falling into a trap in the Misty Mountains. My instincts, however, told me that there were maniacs with demonic wolves stalking us and we should fucking be careful oh my god, what if they track the smell of that tree I just touched? What if my footprints are what give us away too fast? What if I do something WRONG and they're just on us before they're SUPPOSED TO BE –

I was stressin' real big, my dudes, and none of this was helped by the fact that I wasn't sleeping well anymore.

We stopped to make camp the first night after resuming our journey, and I was so sure my legs were going to fall off. While riding ponies exercised a different set of muscles, this was literally just hiking – something I was profusely terrible at. I had never been more tired and super duper ready for sleep. It didn't even matter if I was back on the ground and not on a fluffy Elven bed.

Our fire was smaller than usual so it wouldn't be easily spotted, which had us setting up in a more tightly knit circle, but I think that was part of the point. It was strategic, in that the fighters were towards the outer bounds of the group and the weaker ones towards the center. I was definitely still in the first category, so after dinner, I found myself in my bedroll, nestled close to the warmth of the fire with Bilbo and Ori nearby. A gap had to be left so that whoever was on watch could tend to the fire, but that was about it.

Despite being sandwiched between the Company, I was out like a light in no time. My fatigue sucking me under so fast probably contributed to how quickly I was struck by the return of my nightmares.

Wargs and teeth, blood and Gavin's screams… My heart was thudding out of my chest when I woke up with cold sweat soaking every inch of me. (Ugh.) I let my gaze flicker around, taking in the campfire and my friends beside me, the stars shining above… The moon had only changed position slightly, telling me I hadn't been out long. I peeked over at whoever was on watch – Gloín, it seemed – to reassure myself that everything was fine. He raised an eyebrow as he caught my eye and I shook my head a little, rolling back over tiredly.

Goddammit… I was sure then that Galadriel's assistance with my nightmares was over. Probably wore off as soon as we left Rivendell, honestly. All those nice memories of Aunt Laura that had been repurposed into dreams by the immortal's magic were now back where they belonged, and the new, fresh memories of Middle Earth's danger took their place at the surface.

Getting back to sleep was a task and a half, but I managed, sleeping lightly and fitfully, trying not to sink too far back into the nightmare realm. And then it felt like ten minutes had passed before I was being nudged awake by Ori.

Oh… God, this was going to be horrible.

I tried not to let my shitty sleep schedule get in the way, but now that the others were more familiar with my personality, it wasn't hard for them to notice when something was up. There was a different level of intricacy involved too, because I had Thorin now watching me with a sharper eye than ever.

When we stopped for lunch, he spotted me and gauged my mood. It wasn't like when I first joined the group, when his expression was like that of an angry hawk that would swoop down at the first sign of a threat from me. No, this was… different.

I could tell he was looking for any signs of distress or anxiety as terrains changed and we moved closer to the Misty Mountains, but there was also something less clinical about it. A shift had occurred in Rivendell and there was no turning back. Figuratively. And literally, I guess. Thorin knew one of my big secrets now, maybe even the biggest, aside from the fate of the Durin line and knowledge of the One Ring's true location. It was like the umbrella secret under which all my other secrets fell.

I tried to remain nonchalant about the whole thing. The hard part of telling him about the story was over, so I would offer him a little smile in moments like these, since we were finally on the same boat. With the Company all around us constantly and them none the wiser about what I told Thorin, our metaphorical boat was quite small.

In the end, I suppose it helped that Fili and Kili were still determined to teach me how to fight, providing me with something else to focus on besides boating with Thorin. Being back on the road didn't present many opportunities for practice except for when we made camp each evening, so we took advantage of that. This cut down on my speedy Iglishmêk learning a small bit, but now that we were walking, Balin could teach on the go.

It was only by about the third day of our relaunch that the group started loosening up enough for us to do this. The threat of Orcs was still present in everyone's mind, but some of the tension had lifted.

"Halfway thought the Elves would come barreling after us when they found us gone, the way Uncle was acting," Kili murmured as we laid out our bedrolls for after dinner.

I just lifted an eyebrow, questioning.

"You had just hoped they would come barreling after us," Fili said with amusement.

Kili took a moment to realize what his brother was suggesting, and when he did, he scoffed, "Wha – no, I didn't! I was just saying – "

"That you wanted to gaze upon their beauty at least once more – yes, I know," Fili smirked, breaking out into a full grin when his brother chunked a pebble at his head. He threw up his hand and swatted it away, flinging it straight at my head instead.

It bounced off my forehead with barely a sting and I blinked, rubbing the spot.

"Look what you've done now, Kee," joked Fili. "She'll never be right in the head again."

Kili seemed like he was going to argue at first, but his expression changed to something lighter and he instead chose to roast me, saying, "That's assuming she was ever right in the head to begin with."

I scrunched up my lips with an expression of 'Ha ha, you're such a comedian'.

The boys found a shared humor in my sarcastic look, giving little chuckles as they set the remainder of their items down and stood up.

"We'd best continue your training if you ever want to be more formidable than a fawn," Fili said, finally bringing up the inevitable.

I nodded in agreement, following the blonde off to the side of the camp while his brother grabbed some sticks. Though the terrain was mostly still just rocks and hills, we set up camp for the night near one of the bigger tree groupings we could find. Even if it wasn't much, it was still better than being out in the open while we had enemies floating around somewhere.

As far as the training went, honestly there wasn't much of a difference in what we did that night versus the other exercises, but my form was already stiff again. A mere three days without practice made me revert back to locking my limbs and acting skittish?

While Bombur was cooking dinner, the rest of the Company were either watching me train or talking relatively quietly amongst themselves. The quietly part wasn't much of a surprise, given that everyone was still on edge, but having eyes on me again while trying to learn how to fight wasn't doing me any favors. It was like back in Rivendell, in the garden, when everyone was there. It was making me nervous.

"I was joking about the fawn bit, Jenna," Fili said lightly, but with a wrinkle in his brow as he backed up a few steps after 'cutting off' my arm again. "What's gotten into you?"

Even though Fili had solely been addressing me, everyone could hear it, resulting in a loud, "She's got stage fright, lad!" from Dwalin, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

As I whipped my head to stare at the source of said statement, I couldn't find it in myself to even be mad, despite my face scrunching up in embarrassment. I mean, he was right! I was nervous! And this was just making it worse, my stance faltering and my shoulders coming up in self-consciousness.

"That's alright," Nori stated encouragingly. "Performanceissues are perfectly natural."

I rolled my eyes and flipped him the bird at the same time that dinner was announced ready, secretly glad that his stupidity could break me out of my shell a little.

"Did… she just call me a fig?" Nori questioned in confusion to the nearest Dwarf.

That Dwarf happened to be Gloín, who – in just as much bewilderment – shrugged.

Meanwhile, I was trying shrug off how silly I felt, trying to learn how to fight. My body image issues were always such a massive hindrance mentally and now they were getting in the way physically as well! I was always afraid of how I looked to others, afraid to come across as the comedic chubby girl. While I had no problem with wanting to make people laugh and be happy and shit, I didn't want them to laugh at me.

Ugh. It was doing such a disservice to the Company as well, because I knew they wouldn't care. Logically, I knew they weren't going to judge me like that, based on something as dumb as my weight or how silly I looked while trying to better myself. If they judged me, it was likely going to be based on the fact that I didn't even know how to get a campfire started! Jenna, you're being such a dolt! What do you think you're gonna do when –

"What does this mean? You did it so smoothly, it couldn't have been Iglishmêk."

I blinked back to reality from inside my cloud of loathing only to see Fili flipping me off. Which, of course, resulted in me laughing. Oh, bless these dorks…

As we grabbed our bowls and sat down to eat, I wondered how to explain this. I set my food off to the side to let it cool down as I started to sign and then stopped a few times. Fili and Kili and Nori and… well, several others – including Thorin, from the other side of the camp, with his goddamn hawk eyes – were watching now, bringing my embarrassment back to punch me in the face.

'It is a mean sign back home, but can be playful,' I told them, cheeks growing red as I tried to form a word that I'd never needed before. 'It means… like… Not really. But… fuck you.'

Yes, their reactions were worth it. Yes, Balin choked on his food. Yes, Nori died laughing. And yet, no, somehow, Thorin did not look surprised. Exasperated maybe, but not surprised.

"This is something you use… frequently? Back home?" asked Dori with a critical air.

Having picked up my bowl again to blow on it and cool it off, I shrugged and wobbled my head as a gesture of 'sometimes'. I only got a little of my dinner down before Bofur was speaking up with a chuckle.

"I do believe the Valar secretly graced us with a rebel," he said conspiratorially, giving me a wink. "It's just a wee bit hidden."

I simply tilted my chin down and shook my head a little, staring at him with a look that clearly meant he was off his rocker, before going back to my stew.

There was a lull as everyone ate, with Balin and Gloín eventually starting up a conversation between themselves on the merits of iron versus steel when it came to various tools. Even though the entire thing went over my head, it was probably useful information. It wasn't like I could Google any of this here and Dwarves would definitely be the experts on that sort of stuff, almost making me wish I could take notes. Almost. Didn't miss college that much.

We were almost finished with dinner and all was quiet again when Kili turned to me, looking thoughtful, and said, "You know, you've not told us much about your world."

"Aside from there being no race other than that of Men," Fili added when he overheard.

From beside them, Ori's interest was piqued, too. "Yes. What's it like?"

Oh jeez. Where do I even begin? I blinked at the three for a moment, then turned my gaze to the flickering fire at the center of camp, wondering how to start describing such a vastly different place. It was basically a futuristic alternate dimension with technology that I wouldn't even have terms for in order for them to understand…

I realized then that I had the attention of the whole camp, again, because we were all sitting clustered together and everybody could hear everything. Some were more reserved about their interest, such as Dwalin, Balin, and Oín – and of course, Thorin. It had been so tense since leaving Rivendell though, so maybe I could get them to loosen up a bit if I talked about my whacky world.

'My home is… loud,' I signed, thinking more as I went. 'Very busy. Bright. Fast. A lot of cities.'

I should have known the questions would begin like, immediately.

Starting with Kili. "What do you mean by 'bright'? Is your sun larger?"

Then Ori. "And 'fast'? Are your wagons better there? Perhaps it's the horses…"

I raised my hands to answer, but then Nori started in, too, suggesting, "Maybe their horses are louder and that's why they're faster."

And then Dori. "That doesn't make any sense."

I shook my head and waved my hands a bit, trying to get them to slow down, smiling at their enthusiasm.

"Let the lass tell us what she means!" Bofur piped up as he gathered the dirty bowls, just as interested. Once the others shushed each other a bit, he nodded his head to me. "Go on then."

Feeling a little less overwhelmed, I gave him a nod in return as a thank you and continued on. I started by addressing the questions I'd managed to catch, saying to Kili, 'Sun is not larger', and saying to the Ri brothers, 'Horses are not louder or faster.'

I waited a second to make sure they were on the same page before moving on. 'But the wagons are much better.'

"See?"

"Oh hush, Nori."

Knowing this was going to lead to another outburst, I just went for it and signed, 'The wagons do not need horses to move.'

Their reactions were about what I thought they'd be, ranging from confusion to downright disbelief, all in varying levels.

Though quite a few of them were technically speaking at once, Dwalin seemed interested in this particular statement, saying, "Wagons without horses, eh? Just how do they move then?"

I thought about it for a second, trying find a way to explain motors when –

"Ohh, I see now. You're just pulling our legs again," Kili said from beside me with a smirk, like he had figured out the greatest riddle in the world. When I shook my head with a smirk of my own, his faltered. "What? You mean they actually just… move?"

'You steer,' I said, briefly mimicking the motion of a steering wheel and looking like a dork. I got a lot of blank looks for that, so I followed up with, 'Like you steer a horse, but with a wheel.'

"But – what makes them move if it isn't an animal?" Bilbo spoke up, not usually one to speak so freely in our larger group conversations since he stuck his foot in his mouth about the Elves.

I wondered briefly how the fresh hell he understood the Iglishmêk before I realized he didn't. From the way he'd been glancing at the others' reactions, I could tell he was just picking up tidbits of the conversation and piecing it together. Clever Hobbit. The topic was driving his curiosity-ridden brain up the wall though and his question earned a few nods from Ori and Dori.

Uh… I was no mechanic and the logistics of it were lost on me, but I tried to explain anyway. 'Oil and fire inside a box in the wagon make wheels turn.'

There were some hands thrown in the air and a groan from one of them like my statement was no help, with Bilbo asking Dori what I'd just said, and I could only shrug. I couldn't enlighten them on how a motor and pistons and spark plugs worked! And besides all that, I didn't want to mess with the technology here. Not that I was afraid Bofur was going to run off and make a racecar if I told them too much, but you never knew what could happen.

I decided to tack on other information that would fascinate them instead, motioning, 'Also have wagons that fly and lights that do not need fire. Pictures that move and tell stories or tell of news from far away. Can talk to others across the world directly, with no letters or waiting.'

As one can imagine, my friends were going bananas over this new information. Half of them were still claiming none of it was possible and half of them were demanding why it wasn't considered witchcraft. Poor Kili was trying with all his might to resurrect the theory that I was a wizard again.

My eyes caught Thorin's from across our small camp as he sat against a tree, and there was something softer about his stoicism that led me to believe he was finally finding a hair of enjoyment in this. Amused, but honestly just as curious as the others were, even if he was better at hiding it. I was finally talking about my world more – the world where a book resided, telling of a quest that had yet to be taken? I could almost imagine that's what was running through his head.

Explaining vaguely about phones and televisions to a bunch of medieval guys was as easy as you'd expect, making me almost glad when Thorin stood from his spot and interrupted the 50th barrage of questions. It was getting late, after all.

"Dori," addressed Thorin, settling the group into a quiet state, "You take first watch. Bombur, you take second."

Dori gave a brief, "Will do," and Bombur nodded, the rest of the camp taking this as the signal to get to bed. We had all kind of gotten caught up in the conversation, but I suppose that was partially my intention. Getting them to think of something else besides impending doom for a minute while their curiosity regarding my world took off. Since I knew everything would be fine for a while yet, it felt unfair to leave my stressed out friends in the dark, but on the other hand, I had my own shit to deal with.

And y'know, the nightmares. I was so, so tired, and yet, was not looking forward to sleep.

Slumber was rapidly becoming both the bane of my existence and the thing I wanted most in the world. I could only achieve a deep enough sleep if I was willing to dive into a potentially terrifying dreamland, but if I kept myself from falling into that REM dreaming stage, then I was too tired to function the next day. Dead on my feet. If this kept up, I was going to go find the Necromancer and see if we couldn't cut some kind of deal...

Waking twice through the night and sleeping fitfully for the rest of it, the following day was just as tiresome as the previous. My eyes were becoming scratchy and irritated from the lack of rest, and it felt like I had about seven staples wedged in each of them.

Balin noticed as we were practicing more Iglishmêk during our trek, asking when I rubbed them for the umpteenth time, "Something in your eye?"

Of course, I shook my head, waving it off so we could continue.

He looked skeptical at my nonchalance on the issue, but let it slide, resuming the lesson on how to shorten certain phrases without butchering them and still get the point across. I'm sure my frown of concentration, splitting my focus between walking and hand-talking while tired, was not helping my case either.

Lunchtime was miserable, since all I wanted to do was forgo food and just sleep on the dirt instead, and by the time we settled for camp that evening, I felt like I really did need a Necromancer. God – Yavanna – whoever the hell was up there – I begged them to let tonight to be it: the night I slept okay. I would definitely settle for just okay at this point, too. I wasn't being picky here.

The terrain surrounding us was still a healthy mixture of trees and large boulders, with nothing too mountainous yet. (I mean, there were some smaller mountains, but they weren't the mountains.) This allowed for choice camping spots that were pretty hidden from anything that happened to be lurking by. Like our last area, some dense trees helped out to shield us from the back, but this one also had a few choice boulders to lean against or sit on, so we called it for the night.

I slapped down my bedroll immediately. Honestly, I stared at my backpack-turned-pillow for a solid 45 seconds while on my hands and knees, considering skipping dinner and zonking out there and then, before I realized my name was being called. It took a good chunk of willpower not to slam my face down anyway.

"Jenna – Jenna, lass, can I get your help over here?" Bofur called, already assisting Bombur with dinner preparations.

I had to swallow down a burbling irritation, knowing it was only born of fatigue. It was that kind of unfounded annoyance that I knew no one deserved, and I was just tired, so I gave a little smile and a nod anyway, stumbling to go help. They just needed me to grab more of the large kindling and their hands were full, which was easy enough. I had collected sticks before. I was practically a stick expert.

Fortunately I didn't have to venture far for some good ones, returning swiftly albeit a bit unbalanced. "Thank you much," Bofur said warmly and gave a nod, taking the sticks from me. A smile from Bofur was definitely worth it.

One blessed mercy was the perceptiveness of Fili and Kili. They didn't so much as mention any training that night, and nobody asked me about my world or about our crazy wagons.

Then again, they didn't really get the chance. I may or may not have crashed while dinner was cooking, waking up only to find myself half-in and half-out of my bedroll, a bowl of stew in between me and the dimmed fire. I had no memory of getting a bowl, though I did vaguely recall plopping down to rest for a minute.

It was really disorienting, as it felt like I had just closed my eyes, and I was still tired, despite the impromptu nap. Looking around the camp revealed my companions to be already in their bedrolls, save for Nori, who I assumed was on watch. There was enough rustling and shifting that I figured it hadn't been long since everyone had lain down.

I sat up, I grabbing the bowl of stew. It was lukewarm, but I was grateful they still left it out for me. My stomach was grumbling, holding quite the grudge at actually having skipped out on the meal, however unintentional it may have been.

Downing the food maybe a little too quickly, my brain was so much of a foggy mess that I just blinked at the empty bowl for a minute afterwards before realizing I couldn't think of what do with it. I needed to lay back down…

"Give it here," came Nori's quiet direction, and I didn't even notice him come over. I gave him the bowl and stared blearily as he said with a playful tone, "Get back to sleep before you hurt yourself."

I just nodded, collapsing back onto my sleeping gear.

The next morning I had barely any recollection of the exchange and none whatsoever of my dreams. Though I woke up with my heart pounding and a gasp in my throat, the memory of what caused this dissipated into the noise of the Company gathering things up and getting ready for breakfast.

As I staggered to my feet, I heard someone mention there was a stream nearby. Not big enough to bathe in per say, but we could definitely get more water and clean up a bit. The way things had been going – with me, waking up to sweat covering my body every night – cleaning up sounded like a Nobel Prize winning idea.

Half of the Dwarves, and Bilbo and I, waited until the other half of the group had returned before going ourselves. I wasn't really paying attention to who all was in bunch 1 or bunch 2, so I didn't notice Thorin had joined us until he was already speaking to me.

"You're not sleeping again," he said, crouching beside where I was, next to the stream.

I had just finished splashing my face and was in the process of trying to wash off my neck some, requiring me to rub the water off my eyes to see him. I blinked off the remaining water droplets as I tilted my head a bit, squinting at him in the early sunlight. The only thing that ran through my head was 'Captain Obvious 2: Electric Boogaloo'.

"There seemed to be no problem after the Elven witch healed you," Thorin added, then began to wash off his own face as well.

When he finished and turned back to me, I said, 'Galadriel may have helped me. I did not have nightmares again until we left.'

Thorin gave a small nod and a 'hm' of his own as we stood up from our spot, like he'd had a hunch that it was Galadriel's doing. "So it's not your dread of what awaits us that gives you these nightmares?" he asked in that strange way that meant he was either prodding for information or making fun of me.

Either way, I couldn't stop the scowl that crossed my face at his tone. All the information I could offer was already given to him, so I signed, 'It is not about the quest. I will let you know if you need to worry about anything.'

"Of course," he said, dipping his chin down and adding more seriously, "Just as you did with the trolls?"

I tensed at this and glanced around, making sure our companions weren't within hearing distance. It didn't seem that anyone still washing up in the stream had heard him, allowing me a bit of relief as I turned my attention back to Thorin. I gave him a pointed look that was both a scrunched up frown and a scolding.

His expression remained the same – he was certain he was in the right on this, even if I was fretting over possible eavesdroppers.

I supposed it made sense that he was still upset. Even if Thorin was making an effort to figure out my side of things, it didn't mean he was going to forget about everything I had let happen so far.

While everyone else was finishing up and heading back, we stayed momentarily as I relented. 'I am still sorry,' I motioned, my frown falling away to a more pleading look. Though I couldn't start rearranging the quest all willy-nilly, it still really did genuinely upset me that Bofur had been hurt during all that.

Thorin stared at my hands and my apology, shifting his gaze back up to search my eyes. His expression said he was probably going to remain agitated about the Trollshaws for a while yet, but some of the rigidness in his stance let up. He broke eye contact and tilted his head as a gesture for us to start walking back.

I took this as a sign that my apology would be accepted one day, but maybe not right now, and that was fine.

Though we received a few curious looks, the others wondering what we were talking about, nobody asked any questions in their effort to respect what little privacy we had around here. I wondered if they knew by now that I told Thorin something in Rivendell. The interactions between me and their King felt different than before, but I couldn't tell if that was just my relief at sharing my secret or if it was something that was visible to a spectator.

Either way, the rest of the day went by just as drudgingly as the ones before it. My legs were trying to beef up from all the walking, and between my burning calf muscles and my tender feet, I really didn't want to train that night. However, I'd skipped out the previous evening, so I couldn't slack off again. Not if I wanted to get better at this in time to be helpful.

We went over more of the basic stuff because my form was still appalling, my reflexes were shite, and I still didn't want people watching me while I did this but whatever – and meanwhile, Bilbo and Kili were off to the side, practicing again as well. While Kili was more about the long-range, he knew a decent amount regarding swords, and Bilbo had still wanted to learn a few tricks, so they picked that back up. I was proud of the little Hobbit for venturing out of his comfort zone and embracing his more Tookish nature.

I mean, he was still just as bad as I was, but at least he was trying. There was an effort being made. If I had any, I'd give him a golden star sticker like they do in elementary school.

Sore from training, sore from walking, and just all around exhausted, I was glad when dinner was called. As much as I needed the distraction from thinking about the quest too much, it really was a drain on the energy I didn't have.

It seemed that the others wanted a distraction as well, though.

I was about halfway done with my bowl when Ori started getting his journaling stuff out – which, in of itself, wasn't that odd. I assumed he was finished eating already, and he was keeping a chronicle of the quest, after all. Ori wrote in his massive leather book fairly frequently. No, that wasn't the odd part.

The odd part was when he looked to me and asked, "Would you tell us more tonight?"

Eh? One of my eyebrows rose as I ate, staring at the scribe.

"About your home," Ori answered.

I glanced at the journal with a wary eye, wondering if he was keeping notes on everything I said about my home. Fascinating as it may be, I wasn't sure if that was a great idea. What if these notes got out in their world?

Ori caught where my line of sight was aimed, and asked, "You don't mind if I write about it, do you?"

Thinking for a long moment, I set my bowl down. My hands floated as I paused to figure out how to explain my hesitance on the issue. Finally, turning more towards him, I said, 'Some I do not mind. There are good things in my world. You can write of those. But there are also bad.'

Bofur interjected with amusement, saying, "There's good and bad in every world, lass. That's nothin' to be ashamed about."

I was already shaking my head, knowing I wasn't explaining it right. 'Not what I mean,' I signed. 'My world is ahead of yours. Their… inventions. I do not want them to be made here.'

"Why not?" Dori poked into the conversation, not trying to pry in a rude way, but just genuinely curious. The Company were all listening in (watching in?) and they could tell I was getting a bit frazzled about it.

"Aye," Gloín said. "Can't see the downside of having a flyin' wagon. We'd already be to Erebor by now!"

There were a few chuckles and 'ayes' of agreement, but I was tempted to roll my eyes. First of all, I couldn't invent a fucking airplane by myself, and second of all, I wasn't getting my point across. This information on its own wasn't a world-destroying power, but people were smart. People could take what little tidbits I gave them about 'oil and fire inside a box make wheels turn' and run with it. It wasn't like I was afraid any of them would go off and invent a racecar, but… what if my anecdotes got loose in Middle Earth and their industrial age started centuries too early because of a concept idea I gave them? What if I mentioned something vague, like 'small canon that can fit in pocket'? What if this information found its way to the wrong people?

Ugh, it wasn't even just the book timelines I was worried about this time. It was the timeline of their whole world.

I rubbed my temples with both hands, waiting until their comments about how useful that would be had calmed down before I started again, with more vigor, 'Some of these are not bad on their own, but they can lead to worse things. To other inventions. My world is… always fighting. Wars and death come with these.'

They sobered up a bit when I started mentioning wars and death.

"What are you so afraid will happen?" Dwalin interjected, not one to be swayed by such talk. "We've already got wars and death." More vague noises of agreement from the group accompanied this.

Poor Bilbo was trying to piece the conversation together and failing, so thankfully Bofur leaned over and started mumbling summarized translations. I saw about eight different emotions fly over the Hobbit's face in the span of like, three seconds.

'Middle Earth is like… a young version of my home,' I went on after a moment. 'It is called Earth.'

"Just… Earth?" Fili asked, perplexed.

I nodded, turning back to Dwalin and signing, 'My world has seen times like yours. Then we made better weapons and our wars became much worse.'

Canons lead to guns, and guns lead to machine guns, and those lead to bazookas, and just… it goes on. Eventually you make your way up to nukes and then what? Then you have a world that lives in perpetual fear. And in order to make all that, you need progressively better factories, which leads to more waste, which leads to… well.

'We have weapons that can kill thousands. Millions. They leave land that cannot be used or the crops will slowly kill you. Water is poisoned by trash and oil. Some animals are gone forever because of us,' I continued telling them, the air morose at best.

It was quiet, save for Bofur's hushed paraphrasing to Bilbo.

I glanced around at their now rather grim expressions before finishing up. 'I do not want that for this world. It may happen one day, but will not be because of me.'

Picking up my bowl, I continued to eat, done talking about Earth and its problems. I had barely scratched the surface of my world's drama and yet I'd already suffocated any kind of jovial atmosphere there may have once been.

Ori was looking at the pen I gave him like it would explode at any second. He hadn't written anything down, and while I think he was being overly cautious with the pen now, it appeared that he and the rest were finally starting to understand.

"Well…" Bofur began again, determined not to be bummed out. "Ye said there were good things in your world too…?"

I nodded slightly, trying to finish off my stew. Good things, good things… I pondered. My brain was still in Post-Apocalyptic Mode, but I shrugged it off to sign about happier stuff.

Ori was still caught between wanting to write and wanting to heed my warning, not sure what he could chronicle and what he should omit for safety reasons.

I had pity on the poor guy, reaching over Kili to nudge the scribe's arm with my fingertips. Sitting back once I had his attention, I said, 'You may write about my world, but… keep detail to a small amount. Just in case.'

Seeming encouraged again, Ori nodded and began scribbling something in bullet point format.

'We can keep documents without paper on the same small squares that we watch our stories on, and our homes can be cool or hot without ice or fire,' I told them, and sat up a little straighter when I remembered more. 'We can make food grow faster, and we have better medicine.'

"Oh? Even your medicine is better? Do tell," Oín said with curiosity sidled on the edge of a challenge.

I supposed another good thing about my signing was that I didn't have to repeat myself with Oín like everyone else did. It brought a tiny smile back to my face as I nodded and went on. 'We have medicine to make people unable to get some sicknesses. Our… surgeries' – oh boy I struggled with that word what the fu – 'have less people die. There is medicine for everything. Blood, heart, stomach. Even for the brain.'

"The brain? Like headaches, lass? We've got plenty of things to fix up a headache here," Oín chuckled.

I shook my head and replied, 'Like… brain illness. Things wrong that you cannot see. My world understands the brain better so we can help it more.'

The remnants of dinner were cleared away by now and the camp was settling down to sleep, with half of them keeping an ear (eye?) on the conversation still.

Balin took an interest then, asking for clarification with a careful tone that I thought was odd. "What are these 'brain illnesses', exactly?"

'There are so many different kinds. I only know a few of them,' I explained, my thoughts on my own fight with depression. I wanted to be open about this, but I also didn't want them (or Thorin) to think I was – oh.

Oh, right. Thorin.

I glanced over to see the King paying rapt attention, sitting on his knee-high rock that he had claimed for the evening, part of the same boulder that Balin was seated on. Thorin's pose was deceptively casual, with his elbows resting on his legs as he leaned forward and his hands clasped politely. His face, however, was very tense. Our eyes met and I realized his mind would be on one thing and one thing only during a conversation like this – Gold Sickness.

Balin's caution around the subject made more sense now.

Aw cripes. Uh… how should I approach this? Just pretend like I don't know what Thorin would be thinking about? No, I'd gone and made eye contact like a dumbass, so he already knew by now, but I also didn't want to delve into things that I knew were sensitive to him. Much less here, in front of everyone. It felt like an unintentional invasion of privacy, knowing all this information about Thorin – or any of them! – before he'd had a chance to tell me himself.

Ugh. Was this yet another piece of information that was going to guilt trip me into doing something stupid?

Probably.

First, however, I was going to tiptoe around this bullshit until I could talk with Thorin himself. So I said, with some measure of prudence, 'Some can make you always worry, or make you not eat. Other ones can make you change moods all the time, or… not want to live anymore.'

These were the super condensed versions, and I knew there were infinitely more than what I was getting at. However, I caught the look that Balin and Thorin shared, and the expressions on Fili's and Kili's faces as they sat on their bedrolls, prepared to lay down. Dwalin's brow was furrowed and while Oín had been interested in what I had to say about my world's medicine, he was also tense now, aware of what this topic meant to some. Ori had paused in his note-taking to stare at my hands.

'Some have them worse than others,' I started trying to wrap it up. 'But they are like any other illness.'

"Matters of the mind, though… They're a bit harder to handle than a simple cut on yer arm," Oín said with a tone that suggested that, while he was supportive of the idea, I may have my head in the clouds a bit.

'But not impossible,' I signed, a frown on my face.

"We'd like to believe that, Jenna, we really would," Balin said a bit wistfully, dropping the 'Miss' for once, "But I think Middle Earth works a tad too differently than your own Earth."

It felt… dismissive. Ta-da! Twice in one meal had I managed to turn the mood icky. I felt like a darn magician after all.

Balin volunteered to take first watch, staying where he sat as Thorin vacated the other half of the boulder and went to go lay down himself, not looking in my direction. Fili and Kili shared another psychic look with each other before glancing at me with apologetic expressions. The younger of the two lifted his shoulder in a half shrug, looking like he wanted to explain the tension on behalf of his family but knowing it was time to sleep. Ori had put away his journaling equipment, snuggling up in his bedroll now as well.

I was still frowning as I reluctantly lay down. Our worlds weren't… that much different! Sure, some of their sicknesses were imbued with the same natural magic that a lot of things in this realm had, but at the core, most things were the same. Gold Sickness was still a genetic mental disease, right?

There was frustration burbling inside me. I was tired, it was late, and yet I couldn't help but realize that I wanted hope, too. Not just for Thorin, but hope that someone like me could be okay in Middle Earth as well. Maybe it was selfish to be so focused on Depression when something like concerns about Gold Sickness weighed so heavily on the minds around me. Then again, maybe it was only natural to try and relate my affliction in order to better understand this one.

Sleep came almost too easily considering where my thoughts remained for several minutes. The crackle of the fire and the snores of my companions had become soothing noises to me though, like people who have to listen to whale songs when they go to bed. (Not that I could compare their raucous chainsaw snores to whale songs, but you get the gist.)

The first time I woke from my nightmares that night, Balin was still on watch. Waking up before second watch had even started was beginning to irk me, because it meant I had only been asleep for an hour or two at most.

My next attempt at sleep was more successful, but still ended with me waking up to tears in my eyes and my heartbeat jumping out of my chest. I could hear birds chirping even though the sky was dark grey and there was a chill to the air, signaling the early morning. Was there even a point in going back to sleep now? How far away was dawn? An hour? Half an hour? Damn, I missed modern clocks…

Rolling over onto my back, I furiously scrubbed my eyes of their tears and just held my hands there for a minute with a heavy sigh. If I could just… not be traumatized anymore, that'd be great. I couldn't even remember the specifics of the dreams half the time. It was just teeth and blood and screaming.

I didn't check to see who was on watch now before I sat up. This resulted in me locking eyes with Thorin, perched on that boulder again. His expression was pretty unreadable and I worried that he might still be glum from the conversation last night, but he offered a gentle nod anyway, steering his gaze elsewhere almost immediately. Huh.

Surveying the camp, I knew we were the only two awake. I also knew I wasn't getting back to sleep anytime soon, and I'd have to wake up in almost just as much time anyway.

So, I stood from my spot with a stretch, my back popping like rice crispy cereal, careful not to trip over all the slumbering Dwarves as I tiptoed over to where the King sat.

Thorin was watching me with a vigilant stare that briefly made me rethink this idea as I stopped in front of him. I asked permission by glancing at the empty spot next to him on the boulder and glancing back, receiving a slight downward tilt of his chin that told me to go ahead.

I sat beside him and promptly wondered what the hell I thought I was doing.

The silence wasn't stifling, per say, with the birds chirping every so often in the darkness of morning. It just seemed like I had 500 things I wanted to say and not one of them sounded like a good ice breaker. We were on good terms again and I wanted to keep it that way…

"You know of the sickness that plagues my family, then," Thorin started before I could prepare myself, keeping his volume low.

Dammit. I could only find it in myself to nod the smallest of nods.

He glanced at my confirmation from the corner of his eye, lips tensing into a grim line. "Of course," Thorin huffed out, sitting up straighter with a grimace. "Is there a thing your books haven't told you?"

Was this hypothetical, or was he angry that I knew, or…? I wasn't sure what to make of his foul mood, other than the basics that I had to work with. My face was full of blatant confusion as I asked, 'What is wrong?'

Thorin read the question from my hands and paused, brows staying in their scowling position. Eventually, though they were still low, the crease between them softened a little, and the fine lines around his eyes let up just the slightest. It was like he'd been prepared to get defensive and then remembered that I wasn't going to square up with him like half the universe wanted to.

"It is of no concern," he said dismissively, making a reach for a different subject and trying to act like I was interrupting his brooding. "You should be sleeping. Dawn will soon arrive, and you've not been resting as it is."

I wasn't swayed by his tactics. He was just bottling stuff up. 'Are you mad that I know?'

"No. It is common knowledge, whether or not I care for it to be," Thorin conceded. Then his voice gained a little more rumble and he pinned me with a stern gaze. "However, do not presume to know me or my kin based upon your book."

A few things clicked then, and I saw this for what it was. He was defending the Durin line from what he assumed were preconceived negative opinions regarding their mental issues. While the book and the movie portrayed Gold Sickness a little differently, this world seemed to share the most similarities with the latter. Falling under a magic mental illness may have been spurred on by the sheer amount of riches that Thror acquired, but in the end, he was still the victim of an illness. Maybe that was naïve of me to think. Maybe it was just a product of being raised in a different society. I wasn't sure.

'I do not think badly of your family,' I signed quickly, a small frown gracing my own face at this assumption.

Eying my hands strangely, Thorin looked conflicted between being skeptical from his experiences with prejudice, and simply knowing that I wasn't trying to play mind games at like, four-thirty in the morning.

Eventually, he settled on a general disgruntlement that I kept subverting his expectations. "Your world must be very different indeed," Thorin said reservedly, shoulders slightly less tense now. There was a brief silence before he went on to ask, "Just what does your story say of my grandfather? Of the sickness?"

Oh, okay. We're going there now, I guess. This is fine.

I gave a noncommittal shrug while wobbling my head before saying, 'It does not say much.' (Debatable. Time to dodge.) 'I only know that he had it. It does not say what he was like as person.'

Thorin watched my answer with less wariness than we started this conversation with. While the subject was still a sore spot, he knew I wasn't gunning for the title of judgmental asshole tonight. My ears were open.

"Thror was much more than a sickness," he said with a hint of bitterness. "That your tale reduces his memory to this one abysmal aspect is insulting to his legacy. And yet… it is not so far departed from what those here think as well."

There was a tug on my heart as he talked about his grandfather. I'd honestly never thought of it that way, with Thorin remembering a time before the sickness took over. Another reminder of how little I actually knew about these real people, with real feelings and lives, who were no longer just characters.

"Many only remember him for bringing Smaug down upon Erebor. They are quick to blame the greed of Dwarves for what transpired, when our kingdom was simply thriving under his rule. If Thror could prevent a single Dwarf from going without food or bed, then he did," he told me, staring ahead at the campfire as he thought of days long since passed.

I was enthralled, but my heart ached.

"Those who would cast judgment were not there," Thorin said. His eyes were full of a deep sorrow that I couldn't begin to understand, and it hurt. "They did not have to see my grandfather slip further away as days passed. They did not have to watch as he began to care more for riches than for his family."

He seemed to be getting some sort of catharsis out of this, so I tried not to make any sudden movements or otherwise disturb him. I wondered how often Thorin got to just talk about stuff. He probably needed a highly qualified therapist, now that I thought about it…

"When my sister Dís was born, she was the light of his life. Of all our lives. Females of our race are few and far between, so their births are celebrated greatly," he went on, glancing at me only briefly when he stated this fact. "Being so young at the time, she couldn't understand why he began prioritizing the treasury, refusing to leave even for meals. When the sickness was at its worst, we forbade her from seeing him at all."

It was only when Erebor was lost, and all the gold with it, that my grandfather came back to us," he said with a grim, regretful demeanor. "If only the cost had not been so great, then perhaps we could have rejoiced."

We sat there for a long while after he had finished, listening to the same birds chirp. The sky was greyer than it was before, leading me to believe dawn couldn't be far off. We weren't sitting particularly close, but I shifted a little and accidentally bumped my right leg against the side of his left one. Both of us were snapped out of whatever comfortable moment we had fallen into, me pulling my leg away and him sitting up a bit straighter.

"It wasn't my intention to keep you. Go back to sleep, Miss Hollander," Thorin said, like he just realized what all he'd said to me.

Looking at the sky for a second and listening to how many more birds had woken up, I replied, 'There is no point. It is almost morning.'

Thorin glanced upwards also, saying with a disgruntled sigh, "So it appears."

There was another pause before I worked up the courage to ask him something. I figured if there was anyone who had such a problem, it was him, and considering he was still a functioning person, he'd found a way to live with it.

'How do you do it?' I asked.

"What?"

'Deal with nightmares.'

He seemed surprised by the question, and had to think for a second. It was kind of coming out of left field, but it was why I had woken up in the first place, and why I was looking more and more like a raccoon as the days went on, so maybe it wasn't completely unexpected.

As he stood up from his spot, Thorin asked, "Your nightmares… They are from the morning after we were captured by the trolls?"

I just nodded, looking up at him expectantly.

There was some measure of hesitance on his part, though I wasn't sure why. Eventually, he said, "As much as I'm sure you don't want to hear it, only time has helped. This does not mean you can live in fear of sleep or of the enemies that hunt us. Without proper rest, you will only slow us down."

With a heavy sigh, I stood up as well, giving him a nod of thanks for his input. I don't know what I expected, but yeah, yeah, that sounded about right.

The sky was light enough then to start waking our companions, and Thorin gave the go-ahead. I began walking around the circle and nudging shoulders with my feet or clapping a few times above their heads. The more reflex prone ones, like Dwalin or Gloín, I let wake up from the noise of the others.

It wasn't long before everyone was awake, breakfast was cooking, and another long, tiring day began.


:)

Yeah, this one was definitely less of a pain to write than that last one. I had more ideas already sketched out for when they got back on the road, so it was easier to dive into, even if it was still weird to write certain parts.

Like, I can find literally no reference for what Thror was like as a person? I mean, I would like to think he was an okay dude. And I feel like Thorin probably has some really complicated emotions concerning him, and it'll come up again, but. Our boy just needs therapy, let's be real. XD

At the risk of sounding like the world's most broken record, your feedback is always appreciated. I know you guys know, but I want you to know again anyway – I want to hear your thoughts! If anything came across as iffy or if I just misspelled something, then by all means, please, let me know. I want this to be an enjoyable ride for all involved!

Again, no promises, but not another year. LOL

Until next time, my dear readers~!