At long last, the Adventure begins! Just kidding. Not yet. First, the company has to arrive. Then, they party like there's no tomorrow. Then Peyton has to talk with Gandalf. Then Thorin. And THEN the Adventure begins! Pheww! Just...sit your little butts down and enjoy the show. XD

...

"Change will not happen if we wait for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we've been waiting for. We are the change that we seek." -Barack Obama

~Chapter 6~

'Tick tock' Gandalf...

Two weeks pass and Gandalf still has not shown up. But Bilbo and I get along so well during those two weeks that he tells me I can stay another two weeks. And then another two weeks. And then another.

Two months have gone by and still no sign of the grey wizard. I am trapped between crippling worry and childlike joy as I partake in the beauty of the Shire and all the splendor that it offers. All the while, I keep my eyes peeled for a tall man in a pointy blue hat walking up the road.

Like most things in life; some moments are fleeting and pass in a blur while others become indelible, engrained deep in my memory. Like the smell of the rain and it's pattering sound outside Bilbo's front door as we sit there and watch the evening thunderstorms. All while he enthralls me with fascinating stories about the Shire and Middle Earth.

Or our weekly visit to the Green Dragon to enjoy a pint and meet up with Bilbo's neighbors, where we sing and dance to pub songs.

Or like when we went to a certain Lobelia Sackville-Baggin's garden party, decorated to the max with ribbons and food. It was there that Bilbo inadvertently became my brother-in-law (twice removed) one week after I arrived in Hobbiton, after struggling to explain to his relatives how we know each other and why I am living with him. I playfully rib him about that amusing incident every chance I get for the next two months.

The village is skeptical of me at first, as expected; thinking that living with my brother-in-law (twice removed) is positively indecent...But after the first month, I win them over with my 'friendly hobbit ways'. Turns out that I'm more 'hobbitish' than I ever imagined; enjoying good food and dancing and singing and the fine things in life like every other hobbit. The downside to all this delicious food means I also gain a couple of pounds.

...Ok, more than a couple. In fact, I'm starting to look like a bulgy banana nut muffin and I can't button my jeans anymore. I have to wear hobbit dresses now. Gah! Hobbits apparently don't believe in exercise so there are no gyms for me to go to.

I even get to meet a young Hamfast Gamgee, or Ham, as he asks me to call him. Sam hasn't been born yet, but it's neat to meet his dad in an 'I know your child's future!' kind of way.

Bilbo and I frequently take walks through the forest, where he shares captivating stories of elves, orcs, and dragons from his childhood. I never mention anything about his future adventure with the company, as I don't want to spoil the surprise for him. Instead, I tell him all about my family, siblings, and the many vacations and adventures we had growing up. I also share details about the college classes I was taking before coming here, which deeply impresses him, as not many women are considered 'scholars' in Middle Earth.

After two months though, I begin to come to the conclusion that the quest must be years away. I don't know how old Bilbo is supposed to be when he goes on his quest, and I wonder if that's why Thorin looks so young. Despite this worry, I feel content here since Bilbo and I always find something interesting or new to do each day. We frequently visit the market together, purchasing fresh ingredients for the delicious meals Bilbo prepares for us. His culinary skills are exceptional, as evidenced by my growing pudge.

It becomes apparent to me, after he tells me I can stay another two weeks, that Bilbo is lonelier than he initially realized. He doesn't have many friends, only acquaintances and relatives. With me here, he finds the companionship that his life seemed to lack. Bilbo Baggins tries his best to fit in, but there's something inherently different about him compared to other hobbits. Personally, I believe it's a good kind of different, a 'Tookish' kind of different. There's a hidden light within him that can't be extinguished, no matter how many doilies he crochets. Perhaps that's why we get along so well. I wholeheartedly accept him just the way he is, especially the 'Tookish' part.

Long story short...the Shire has a timeless peace that I have never experienced anywhere else in my life. I could grow old here, honestly, living out my days with happy friends, happy neighbors, and plenty of good food and song.

But that night, I have the most vivid dream I've had since arriving in Middle Earth.

I'm standing in my old University dorm room, and my mother is sitting on my unmade bed. We're surrounded by all the mess I left behind- clothes strewn all over the floor with books and test papers and pens strewn around. I'm kind of a slob, unfortunately.

She's staring down at a tie-dye shirt in her hands and she starts to cry, holding the shirt to her chest.

I reach my hand out to her and start to apologize, "Don't cry, Mom. I'm sorry! I'll clean this room up, I promise!"

She doesn't appear to hear me, and seems to only cry louder. I then notice that she's holding the tie-dye t-shirt that she and I had made for a 4th of July parade back when I was 18.

I feel a lump in my throat. "Mom?"

"Come on Jane, we need to pack this stuff up." I turn to see my dad in the doorway, his expression haggard, looking a little thinner than the last time I saw him. "The dorm supervisor said we can't wait any longer."

"I should've packed mace spray in her care package when she visited for Christmas." My mom shudders into my shirt, sobbing.

My insides churn in panic like I'm watching a horror movie. The one where you're the ghost.

"MOM! DAD! I'M RIGHT HERE!" I start to cry, "I love you guys! I'm stuck in Middle Earth but I promise I'll find a way home to you! I won't give up! I'm alright!"

The dream shifts abruptly, and I find myself facing a peculiar city constructed of whitish-grey stone. The landscape is as barren and lifeless as the grey, cloudy sky overhead. Everything appears washed out, devoid of color, light, or joy. I survey my surroundings and realize I'm standing at the edge of a tree line, separated from the city by a long stone bridge. The lifeless trees behind me seem to recoil from the stone's edge, their dark, skeletal branches reaching out to me as if to pull me away from the decaying city and into the forest. I glance at the forest and shudder; it doesn't appear any more inviting.

A soft murmur from the crumbling city makes me gasp, and I spin around to face it. The hairs on my arms and neck stand on end as a black mist begins to gather at the city's archway, the source of the strange murmuring. A deep, instinctual fear courses through me, chilling my blood. The mist, though distant across the bridge, feels as if it's watching me, as if it possesses a consciousness of its own. Suddenly, it starts to move towards me, rushing like a dreadful, howling wind above the bridge. I scream as it engulfs me.

"Peyton! Peyton! Wake up, Peyton!"

I come face to face with Bilbo, and I flinch away from him. The orange light of the candle he is holding casts strange shadows on his glowing face. I look wildly around me, breathing heavily. I see my bedroom, my dresser, vanity, and the little round door that is open to the hallway that Bilbo had just come in from. I'm safe. I'm home…

Home?

No...no I'm not home...I'm stuck in Middle Earth!

I have to get HOME!

I have to get home...

"But, Rivendell is a two-month journey from here on foot! Not only that, but it's dangerous, Peyton! Who knows what foul beasts roam about, thirsting for young maidens such as yourself!" Bilbo fusses and dithers over me as I pack the items I've accumulated over the past two months. My jeans that no longer fit, my non-functioning cellphone, a couple of leather-bound books filled with beautiful paintings and calligraphy of Middle Earth, and a few dresses I'd bought on sale at the county fair a week after moving into Bag-end. Everything I own is courtesy of Bilbo, of course, since I don't have a single penny to my name. Just a strange gold coin. Given all the stuff I've received over the two months, one might mistake Bilbo for my sugar daddy.

Honestly, though? Bilbo is one of the most generous and kind souls I've met in my life. He's always giving things to his neighbors and serving in the community. Even though there seems to be a barrier between him and his neighbors, Karma truly loves Bilbo and blesses him with even more than what he gives away. I decide I want to be more like him once I get back home.

"I know, Bilbo. I know about the dangers out there. More than most people, I bet." I say grimly but resolved. "But I have to go regardless. I can't stay another two weeks."

Going to Rivendell will be the quickest option. I really can't waste any more time. I know my family is worried sick and that horrible nightmare from last night felt more like a vision than a dream. I can't let them worry about me like that. I can't do that to my parents.

"Well, I guess that's that then." He murmurs quietly, "It's just…" he trails off and seems at a loss for what to say.

I stop what I'm doing and turn to look at him with a sad smile, "I know buddy. I'm going to miss you too."

I give him a big hug, even though he's still not used to such affection, and he looks down at the ground not wanting to meet my eyes for a moment as he gets a reign on his emotions. "Well, I best be getting the pie out of the oven before it burns. Have to make sure it's ready for the fair tomorrow." He attempts to smile briefly at me, but it falls flat before walking away.

"Aww, Bilbo...after the amazing quest you go on, you'll hardly remember me I'm sure, " I murmur to the empty doorway sadly.

I heave a sigh at the mood that's come over the house. Grabbing a wicker basket, I head down to the market for some supplies. I need some tools to make a fire, and a butcher knife to defend myself. Hobbits don't have swords it seems. And if they do, they're used for decoration and are considered antiques that aren't for sale.

I meander about the village, taking my time with the supplies and groceries. It'll be my last day in Hobbiton. Tomorrow morning I'll be heading off into the great unknown of Middle Earth to find Lord Elrond and the elves. It's kind of poetic if you think about it...like I'm a mini version of Bilbo and I'm going off on my own adventure. I'm really going to miss this place though. It's so lovely like a breath of pure air. I wonder if I could ever find a place so peaceful in my world? My city in Nevada has too much commotion and gambling and crime. Maybe a country life is the life my spirit secretly longs for?

"Peyton! PEYTON!"

I turn, confused to see Bilbo power-walking toward me, almost jogging. "PEYTON! Oh! You will not believe it! You simply WON'T believe it!" Bilbo sputters and points behind him in the direction of his house.

I look behind him in that direction but don't see anything, "What? What won't I believe?" I realize he's not pointing at anything in particular, he's simply pointing at a memory in his head.

Bilbo finally reaches me and grabs both of my hands in his and earnestly looks at my face, "Gandalf! He was here!"

"WHAT?!"

I rip my hands away only to grab at his shoulders, "Where?!"

He's finally here?! But...I thought...

"Yes, yes, he was right here…I mean THERE, at my home! I was smoking my old toby on my garden bench, just trying to relax, and I opened my eyes, and he was standing right there! As if he had appeared out of thin air!" Bilbo looks preoccupied as if traumatized by his encounter with Gandalf. "I said 'good morning' and then he started questioning me about it, completely confusing me! And he said he was Gandalf and Gandalf is him, or...something of the sort. He was a bit rude..." He drifts off, seeming a bit lost from the encounter.

"Bilbo! Did you tell him about me?" I shake him a little, trying to make him focus.

"Oh, oh, yes. Yes, I did!" Bilbo murmurs, shaking off whatever stupor had befallen him. "He said he would return and speak with you tonight. Said he was going on an adventure and he said something about informing 'the others'?" He drifts off, seeming lost again.

"What did YOU say about ME? Did you tell him I was from another world?"

"Uh, no." I let his shoulders go and Bilbo and I begin walking in the direction of Bag End together, "I'm afraid that didn't come up. But he told me he was looking for someone to share in an adventure with and how this adventure would be amusing for him or something of the sort...I said that I have a friend who has been waiting for him to arrive for months! I invited him to come back for dinner tonight. That way we can all sit down and get you back home."

"Bilbo!" I stop on the path and pull the hobbit in for another big hug, "You're the greatest! Do you know what this means?!" At Bilbo's questioning look I continue, "I'm going home tonight! I won't need to go to Rivendell after all! Gandalf will be able to send me back tonight!"

My lungs feel like they can breathe again as they fill with air and an invisible weight on my back floats away into the ether. Things will be back to normal soon. I'm coming Mom...

Bilbo gives me a smile, "Yes, well, I feel immensely better knowing that you won't be going off on your own to Rivendell! Who knows what foul beast would have found you first!"

"Eh, I would have been able to avoid it."

My toxic trait is that I think I have plot armor, which I don't. Bilbo is the one with the plot armor. This isn't even my story!

"Oh! Look! Is that his mark on your door?" I ask as we finally reach his house. It's barely a scratch, really, but it faintly shimmers with magic.

"What?! NO!" Bilbo cries, absolutely beside himself, "I JUST had Hamfast paint that door yesterday!"

I grimace.

"Don't worry. I'm sure Gandalf will take it off tonight?" Yeah, he probably won't.

"Oh no he WON'T!" Bilbo mutters to my surprise, disappearing inside only to reappear with a damp washcloth that he whips about himself in unholy hobbit fury, "I'm taking this mark off RIGHT NOW!"

I smirk, "Yeah, good luck with that. I'm going inside to make some tea. I'll get you one too."

I leave him to fuss over the door since I know it'll be futile. It's magic.

As I put the tea together, a delicious chamomile blend from Bilbo's herb garden, I think about all these events occurring at the same time. Gandalf is finally here! On the eve of my departure? What are the odds of that? I stir my cup as I think, frowning. Such rotten luck to have missed him while I was in town. I could have been home right this very moment! I also find it interesting that Bilbo will be going on his own adventure and leaving the Shire at the same time that I'll be going back home and leaving Middle Earth. Coincidence? I think not. That niggling of destiny comes back to my brain. It's all so strange.

The rest of the day is spent with Bilbo, cleaning the house (not that it was dirty in the first place) and preparing for our guest(s)...Bilbo notices I made three LARGE bowls of garlic butter and rosemary mashed potatoes using the entire stock of potatoes that he has in his pantry.

"The three of us can't even eat HALF a bowl of that! Three large bowls are enough to feed a troll!" He gripes, clearly thinking that I've lost my marbles and wasting good food.

"Leftovers!", I shrug sheepishly, feeling a little guilty that I'm not going to forewarn him.

"But they will go bad!"

"Don't worry, I'm sure someone will eat them."

Bilbo mutters to himself in frustration that I should take some home with me, and we leave it at that.

It's finally dark and Bilbo and I sit at his table, watching the clock on his mantlepiece. We have been waiting anxiously with no sight of them for the past hour since sunset and the food that Bilbo prepared has gotten cold.

I frown and turn to him, "Are you SURE that Gandalf said tonight?"

"I was the one who told him to come for dinner tonight, so I am quite sure." He checks his pocket watch. "He's completely missed dinner though. Perhaps he meant to arrive for supper instead?"

Just then the doorbell rings. "Goodness, are wizards normally so late?!" Bilbo asks, a bit annoyed as he briskly walks to the door.

"Yeah, pretty much. Although they'll deny it." I mutter as I follow him, remembering Gandalf's words to Frodo.

Bilbo opens the door and we both stare in shock at a bald dwarf in a brown cloak turning towards us. That's not Gandalf.

"Dwalin, at your service."

He bows and there are strange square tattoos on his bald head.

This is Dwalin the dwarf?! I am at a loss for words, completely thrown off by his appearance. He has a huge black mustache the same size as his beard, and huge sideburns. He looks like a mix between a Viking and a Hells Angels biker, with leather and fur around his shoulders and large boots, reminding me of the only other dwarf I've met in Middle Earth. He is not old, just like Thorin was not old. But… he doesn't have a blue beard or a green cloak like the book says! J. R. Tolkien is a freaking liar!

Dwalin moves to come inside and Bilbo thankfully is able to speak, unlike me who's just staring like an imbecile at Dwalin. "Uh, excuse me but have we met?" Bilbo asks politely.

Translation: Back up Jack! Why are you barging unannounced into my house?!

"No?" Dwalin says, confused that Bilbo would ask such a question before continuing past me with a respectful nod, deeper into the smial. "Which way laddie?" He goes down the hall, "Is it in here?"

"Is what in here?" Bilbo asks bewildered and follows him.

"Supper. They said there'd be food and lots of it!"

I remain there, staring out into the dark. Confused. Where's Balin? Where are the other dwarves? Where's Gandalf?

I feel sick to my stomach staring out into the darkness, suddenly feeling very lost. All I know of the story is the cartoon and the book, mostly the cartoon. How are things so different? Have I just forgotten what the book says since it's been so long since I've read either or seen either in years? Or am I in an alternate reality of Middle Earth? How did I get here?

My worried feeling doesn't go away as I finally close the door and walk woodenly into the room where Dwalin is tucking into the meal that Bilbo had set out for Gandalf with great relish.

"Where's Gandalf?" I ask him as I sit down to the table myself.

Dwalin analyzes me before swallowing the extremely large bite he was chewing, "I dun'no. I di' not travel with 'im. He told me to come 'ere two weeks ago, and here I am. I am sure he'll be along later." He then takes another large bite of the mashed potatoes and makes an appreciative sound. I smile, pleased that he likes it.

His accent is less refined than his King's. An overwhelming curiousity to ask about how Thorin is doing comes over me, but I bite it down.

"Gandalf told you to come two weeks ago!?" Bilbo asks, and glances over at me with raised eyebrows, and then back to Dwalin, "It would have been nice if he had warned me."

"He did." I look over at him wryly, feeling slightly better with Dwalin's pronouncement. "He said he would inform 'the others'."

Bilbo gives me a peeved look as if to say that isn't good enough when the door rings again.

"That'll be the door." Dwalin says with a smug look at Bilbo.

I'm curious about who will arrive next since in the cartoon it had been Thorin who arrived first. I smile widely at Dwalin as Bilbo goes to the door as if he and I are in on a joke together. Dwalin, however, leans back in his chair regally and gives me a strange look that I can't say is quite friendly. I'm sure he's wondering why a short human woman is beaming sunnily at him.

"What's your name, lass?" He asks, his voice gruff.

"Uhh, Peyton." I blink, surprised at his directness. Everyone I've met up until now in Middle Earth has been very polite for the most part and they speak in friendly cheerful tones when meeting me for the first time. Even if they don't like me, they are still polite. There's a whole little dance of words you have to perform to show good breeding and etiquette.

Not Dwalin though. He doesn't strike me as the dancing sort.

"Evening brother."

Both Dwalin and I look over and see a white-haired dwarf, marching slowly up to Dwalin who slowly stands from the table in what appears to be happiness.

"By my beard..." He grins. "You're shorter and wider than last we met."

"Shorter, not wider. Smart enough for the both of us."

The two dwarves grab each other firmly by the shoulders, gazing at each other warmly and chuckling. I'm observing them both intently, intent on finding out which dwarf he is when it finally hits me, "Ballin?" I whisper softly to myself. Balin is Dwalin's brother, so could it be him? Unless all the dwarves call each other brother?

Both dwarves look at me, Dwalin's face stoic while Balin's eyebrows are the only thing that changes as they raise in surprise. I blush as I realize I said his name out loud.

"Evening, Miss." he says cordially with a small bow, although his smile is not as big as earlier. I realize that I must have interrupted something between them.

"Evening, sir," I say, embarrassed. Balin is one of the kindest and most sensible of the dwarves of the group according to the book. I've always liked him. He looks at me strangely though, so I think my eyes are sparkling with a little too much mischief. I try to hold in the excitement and try again, "I trust you had a pleasant journey here?"

"Yes, it was as well as could be expected." He nods. "And you are a relation of Master Baggins here, I presume?"

Balin would never be so rude as to ask outright if I was Bilbo's wife, but I know that's his polite way of asking it.

I shake my head, "I am of no relation to Bilbo. Just a friend. I'm here to meet with Gandalf, actually!"

"I see," Balin says cautiously. Then he smiles and this time it's more genuine. "He should be along later."

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware we'd be having more guests," Bilbo says upset as he comes into the room. "I only set the table for three of us."

Dwalin then pats Balin on the back, "Come brother, let's check the pantry. We must begin preparing." They move past me to the larder beyond.

"Preparing?! Preparing for Wha- Did you know about this?" Bilbo turns to me and asks in a low, worried voice.

I give an apologetic grimace, "Uhh, well, you see…"

"Peyton!" He whispers in outraged shock. "That's why you used all my potatoes! How many more of these dwarves are there?"

"Look, I can't tell you everything that happens in the future! Where's the fun in that?" I hold my arms out, trying to appeal to his rationality. Honestly, you'd think he would be a little more sympathetic to ME and what I have to deal with with this whole future thing. I look back at the dwarves. Things are the same but different. Have I changed it or is this how it really should be?

Bilbo notices them moving things around in his pantry and the polite griping starts. "Uh, excuse me?" He calls out, "Sirs? There's been a terrible mistake. I like to know who I'm inviting into my home. I like visitors! Very much in fact! But, the fact of this matter is that I don't know who either one of you are. Not in the slightest. I hate to be blunt, but I really must speak my mind. I'm sorry."

Both dwarves immediately stop and turn to look at Bilbo. What Bilbo meant to say was: I don't know who the hell you are, and I didn't invite you to my home. Now, stop rummaging around in my pantry like you own the damn place! Once Gandalf arrives we will sort this bloody mess out!

But, of course, he speaks like a Canadian so the dwarves don't understand.

"Apology accepted." Balin smiles.

I laugh into my hand. That was so funny. Then the door rings again.

Bilbo turns to look at me with shock and dismay but I drink deeply from my chamomile tea I made earlier and avoid his eyes as he groans and goes back to the door.

Two male voices echo down the hallway "Fili", "And Kili", "At your service!"

I grin, "Oh great. The twins are here." They aren't REALLY twins, but they practically could be.

I turn to see Balin and Dwalin watching me and my amused expression. "Kili and Fili are here." I repeat with a smile with my thumb pointed towards the door, trying to make friendly small talk to put them at ease.

It doesn't. They frown, seeming very wary of me now. Dwalin passes me with a glare as he heads down the hall.

What did I say?

"Fili, Kili, come on, help us move the table." I hear his voice.

"Mister Dwalin!" Kili says enthusiastically before he and Dwalin turn the corner into the room.

My mouth drops open as I see Kili in the flesh. Dark hair, like Thorin's but not nearly as wavy, with a shaved face and bright chocolate eyes. He's sporting thick dwarvish clothing like the rest of them.

He also falters when he sees me but Dwalin pushes him past me, not allowing him to stop and make introductions.

"Who's this?" He asks anyways, turning his head to gaze back at me in surprise. I stare back at him, amazed and confused. He looks nothing like how I'd imagined him. He's supposed to be blonde! And not nearly this good-looking. The cartoon made him look like a cute little doll. But this guy? This guy looks like he could actually blend-in in my world with just a wardrobe change as a male magazine model.

I try to speak up, "I'm-"

"A guest of Mister Baggins. Now, hurry and help with this otherwise we'll never get everyone in." Balin jumps in. I blink at him, surprised at the curt way he interrupted me. He responds by giving me an 'I'm onto you' kind of look.

"Well hello there," I turn to see a blond dwarf with braids in his hair(and his mustache!), smiling at me and propped against the doorframe. He gives me a sultry look, "And who might you be?"

I smile widely at him. This must be Fili! At least HE's blonde like the book and cartoon! "I'm-"

"-Visiting Mr. Baggins 'ere." Dwallin rudely interrupts, grabbing Fili by his pack's strap that's slung across his chest and pulls him roughly into the room and past me.

At first, I feel offended, but then a light clicks on in my head and it turns to amusement. They think I'm a spy and they need to protect the line of Durin.

"Hey! How many more of you are there?!" Bilbo comes around the corner carrying a bunch of weapons. I raise my eyebrows at him in shock. Where did he get all of those!?

The dwarves either don't hear him or choose to ignore him and chat amongst themselves.

I have pity on him, "Nine more." I give him another apologetic smile.

"What?!" He gasps angrily. "Oooooh-ho-HO! You and I are going to have some words. I can tell you that, Peyton Silva!"

I gulp. An angry Bilbo is like a cute kitten biting your fingers; it thinks it's a tiger mauling you, but it's really just an adorable fluff ball. Still...maybe I should have broken my little rule and forewarned him after all?

I glance back at the dwarves only to notice that Balin is silent and staring at me. Ahhh, so he WAS ignoring Bilbo. I realize that he heard me telling Bilbo there are nine more and he's now officially onto me. I give him an innocent look while raising my eyebrows and shrug. Balin doesn't buy my innocent look at all and folds his arms across his chest, his white bushy eyebrows frowning.

I feel a stab of anxiety. Even though I'll be going home soon, out of all the dwarves in the company I don't want BALIN to dislike me before I leave. He's like a miniature Dwarf Gandalf!

Just then, the doorbell rings.

Saved by the bell.

"I'll get it!" I turn around and walk past Bilbo. I wonder who it is this time? Dark wavy hair, with intense sapphire eyes come into my mind and my heart starts pounding frantically. I don't pay attention to Bilbo's protests as I rush away from the group and down the hall to the door.

I open it with a flourish, "Welcome to-"

A huge pile of dwarves fall at my feet with various thuds and groans. "Bombur! You weigh a ton!", "Get off!", "You have to get up first!", "Argh!", "You landed on me leg!", "Grarrgh!"

I stare down at them in shock and dismay. They had been leaning on the door. Nice job Pey.

I look up and see a grey robe, and then a head full of matching grey hair bows down in order to look inside the home. A pointy hat is sitting on his head.

There he is. The most famous wizard in my world. Well, besides Harry Potter anyways.

"Gandalf." I breathe out in awe.

End of Chapter.

Yay! Gandalf! Short chapter in comparison to last time, I know. If you're wondering why Peyton isn't being very careful with her words, it's because she doesn't plan on going on the quest. So it doesn't really matter because by her reasoning they will forget all about her once she leaves. Just FYI for the next chapter.