Thank you so much for the reviews you guys! I wish I could give you all a hundred chocolate koalas! (That's a reference to Bluey if you didn't know XD)

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"The smallest act of kindness is worth more than the grandest good intention."

~Chapter 10~

A Kindly Deed.

A gentle but firm hand at my shoulder shakes me awake. I open my sore, scratchy eyes to look at the tall silhouette in my dark room.

"Good morning, Miss Peyton. It is time to depart. I already took the liberty of acquiring a pony for you." Gandalf's voice reaches me.

I give a groggy glance at my dark window before letting my head fall back into the goose-down pillow with a moan. The sun hasn't even come up yet! I did not get enough sleep last night. Too many strange and confusing dreams of me apologizing in over a hundred different ways to Thorin in my mind.

I pull the blanket over my head, "Ten more minutes, Gandalf."

"Ok."

I open my eyes and turn to see him leaving. Huh. That was relatively easy. I snuggle deep into my soft mattress and drift back to sleep.

A stab of annoyance hits me after what feels like one minute later, another hand is shaking at my shoulder. It's Gandalf again.

"Miss Peyton, ten minutes is up. It is time to depart. Come with me."

I shift my body and groan, frustrated that the 10 minutes felt like a blink, "Five more minutes, Gandalf."

"What?!"

He sounds shocked but he'll learn. They all learn. Give me an inch and I'll take a mile when it comes to my sleep.

"I already gave you ten minutes! Get up and come with me!"

"Ugh, why do we have to start the quest so dang early?! It's not like it's going anywhere..." I mumble groggily into my pillow, feeling myself slowly start to drift back into slumberland.

"Peyton Silva, get up this instant or I will have one of the other dwarves wake you!" Gandalf growls, clearly a grump in the morning as well.

I feel him leave my bedside and I peek a bleary eye at him curiously. I can see him better in the light of the doorway, the same grey bathrobe on from yesterday. Does he ever wear anything else?

"Which one?" I ask curiously. If he sends in Ori then I won't budge.

His annoyed expression turns amused, "Both Dwalin AND Thor-"

"I'm up. I'm up." I scramble up, and Gandalf closes the door behind him with a quiet chuckle.

With a loud resigned sigh, I pull my traveling clothes on, swaying like a drunk with no balance. I should have gone to bed earlier but after vacationing for two months here in the Shire, I began to stay up late talking with Bilbo. I'd wake up to start my day off around 10am and eat Elevensies. Bilbo always got annoyed and said that first and second breakfasts were the most important meals of the day but I always slept through them.

I shrug the pack that had been graciously provided for me with all the tools I needed to get to Rivendell. That was fortuitous luck right there.

Once again the strange feeling comes over me, reminding me that 'luck' doesn't have much of anything to do with my situation here in Middle Earth. I am here for a purpose. I remember the song from last night, calling me to adventure.

With a final glance around at my room, I take a deep breath and head out into the hallway only to find dwarves everywhere. They're silently cleaning the whole house, careful not to wake Bilbo. If they didn't make such a mess in the first place they wouldn't have needed to clean. But I guess with thirteen dwarves, it's easy. I wonder if Thorin cleans?

I bump into the dwarf himself in the hallway. His chest briefly touches mine before we both step back like we've been stung. He raises a brow at me as if I am in his way.

"Good morning" I try to smile pleasantly at him. The grasshoppers are back, banging against my stomach in frightened plops and summersaults.

If he's surprised at my kind greeting, it doesn't show. But I AM surprised by the small civil nod that he grants me, his face expressionless. He slides past me, careful not to touch me again.

Tell him you're sorry! Go on, just spit it out!

But the moment passes and he's gone. Nice going Peyton. I hope the whole trip to Rivendell won't be like this because the guilt is eating me alive. I'm going to need to apologize sooner rather than later to avoid this awkward thing we have going on between us.

I grit my teeth to keep myself from running after him and giving him a half-arsed apology. I need to pick the right moment. How long until that happens though?

Stiffly, I put one foot in front of the other on my way to the kitchen. If the noiseless dwarves don't wake Bilbo, the smell of bacon sizzling on the stove will.

As the other dwarves pass me by they respectfully murmur, "Pardon me, Miss.", or "Good morning, Miss."

"Good morning, Miss Peyton!" Kili greets me from the table, a plate of food in front of him. "A fine day for a quest, is it not?"

I smile, still a little tired, "As good a day as any. What's for breakfast?"

"Oh! Allow me to get some for you!" He starts to get up but a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast is suddenly in front of my face, I turn to look at who the arm belongs to, only to see a smiling Fili.

"Got to be faster, brother." He grins. Kili sends him a glare.

Wow. Fili and Kili are…quite the flatterers! Who would've thought?

I give them both an amused yet exasperated eye roll, "Ok, you two. If the rest of the quest is going to be like this, I'm going to start bopping people on the head." Then, remembering my manners, "But thank you, Fili." I take the plate and go to sit down at the table.

"My pleasure, Lady Seer." Fili gives me an exaggerated bow.

"Oh, uh, just 'Peyton' is fine, Fili." I give an embarrassed smile and bite into my toast.

Not a seer.

"Really? Are you sure?" He asks, surprised.

"In my world, no one is formal anymore. We call everyone by their first names." I give a shrug, "I call you and everyone else in the company by first names. It just makes sense to call me by mine."

Fili thinks on this a moment before nodding, "Very well then."

The brothers and I exchange some light banter as I eat my food. When finished, I stand and head over to the kitchen to rinse off my plate only to almost run into Bifur. My eyes immediately go up to the axe in his head without my say so. As someone in the medical field I find it absolutely fascinating how the human body can resist so much. But do dwarves and humans have the same bodily processes?

He says something in that strange language of his and then bows, taking my plate from my hand.

"Thanks, Bifur!" I smile at him, grateful. I hate doing dishes.

I have nothing really left to do and I'm about to head outside, when I notice Balin standing alone with the contract. He sets it on a chair carefully. As if sensing my gaze, he looks up to see me watching him. For a moment, we both stare at one another before I give him a small smile and a respectful nod. He pauses before nodding back to me, and his wariness seems to ease a little. I hope we can be friends someday. I've always really liked him.

With that, I turn and go out the front door, breathing in the cool spring air.

"Ah, at last, you're awake."

I turn to see Gandalf standing by his grey horse, a stern look is on his mouth but a twinkle is in his eye. I send him a wink as I stretch a sun salutation to the not-yet-risen sun, popping my back muscles. And then...I see my pony.

A cream colored palomino standing calmly beside Gandalf, who also has a large grey horse next to him.

"Oh. My. Gosh! My little pony!" I move slowly towards her, afraid that I might have startled her with my happy shriek. Her ears are pricked and looking at me.

I've always wanted a pony since I was a kid, watching corny horse movies, and collecting figurines with my sister. Our bedroom used to have a whole shelf dedicated to our shrine of horse figurines collection. Now they're all packed up in storage and have been there for about eight years. Still, I can't bear to sell them.

"Carmella. Her name is Carmella, it's final. Or Butterscotch...butterscotch is a good name too."

Gandalf raises his eyebrows, "Uh, actually she-"

"But Carmella reminds me of caramel, and I love caramel. Maybe I can call her both?"

"Peyton, I'm afraid-"

"Ok, ok, ok, her name is officially Carmella Butterscotch Silva. It's decided."

"Carmella is a boy." Gandalf finally says.

Well, there goes my dream.

I sigh, "Sir Gallahop it is then." I scratch him between the eyes and he nickers, as if laughing at me.

I'm suddenly heartbroken, my emotions swirling before I've even mounted Sir Gallahop. The knowledge that he and the ponies will be captured in the Misty Mountains and dragged down into the depths of Goblintown to be eaten?! I rub his furry neck thoughtfully, the idea weighing heavily on me. I wonder if this is something that I can change?

So absorbed in searching for a way to alter his grim fate and pondering all the scenarios of how to save him, that I barely notice the other dwarves emerging from Bilbo's house. By now everyone has congregated out at the front, their ponies apparently already packed before cleaning their mess.

Thorin comes sweeping out the front door in all his kingly aura and pauses, majestically taking in the scene of us standing prepared with our ponies. All the dwarves stop and turn to look at him, showing great respect and gravity for this pivotal moment. The air is thick with anticipation.

He looks at us with his blue eyed gaze, measuring the weight of his duty to us, undoubtably weighing the risks and wondering how many of us will survive this perilous task. After meeting his gaze briefly, I turn my attention back to my pony, meticulously ensuring that my pack is securely fastened. The need to apologize to him gnaws at me, but I just don't know when or even how to approach him.

I feel more than see him gracefully sweep past me, on his way to his own pony and I steal a covert glance in his direction. He rubs a black pony's velvety face and speaks to it in the same strange language I heard Bifur speak. I realize it's a different pony than the one he and I rode to Michel Delving. What happened to the other one?

As if sensing my eyes on him, his eyes flicker over to where I stand, briefly meeting mine before I quickly avert my eyes back to my pony. Gosh dang it Peyton! Just go over there and say 'Hey, I was a jerk last night. You were right, and it's a dangerous world out there. You're an amazing king, and I'm sorry for bringing up past ghosts. That was a very rude move on my part. Let's be friends!'

Thorin smoothly lifts himself up on his ride and turns his pony to face all of us. Silently waiting.

Or not. I can just spend the next year not ever looking or talking to him again. Maybe I can write an apology letter after I save his life? He'll have to forgive me then, right?

I feel a hint of trepidation as I look up at Sir Gallahop, trying to figure out how best to get on him. Last time, Thorin had just pulled me up behind him with one hand.

I stick my foot into the stirrup then, holding on to the saddle like I'd seen in all the country westerns, I try to push myself up. At that moment, Gallahop decides it's a good time to start walking.

"Woah! Stop!" I cry out, desperately trying to free my foot from the stirrup before I am dragged along and trampled. Gallahop either doesn't speak English, or he doesn't care, because he continues walking, forcing me to hop along him on one foot to avoid falling to the ground and possibly getting a hoof in the back. I manage to unhook my foot from the stirrup, narrowly escaping an unfortunate accident.

I can't help it. I glance at Thorin, catching his unimpressed glower, silently conveying his disapproval.

I narrow my eyes at him, my pride rising once more, and I grab my pony by the reins, holding onto them while also holding onto the saddle. With a resolute push, straining the muscles hard in my thigh, I lift myself up and my stubborn pony tries to move again. This time, my grip on both the reins and the saddle horn don't allow his head any room as it pulls back on his mouth, forcing him to stop.

Quickly pushing up, I lift my other leg over and around and I'm suddenly there, unsteadily in the saddle with the living moving creature beneath me. I can't help my grin, delighted at my success, and adjust myself in the seat, centering my weight over the pony. I steal a glance at Thorin, hoping he witnessed my triumph. He merely raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable, before turning his pony with a click and light kick. The dwarves begin to follow after him.

Huh, not much of a speech giver is he. I was expecting some sort of 'Thank you all for coming. We've gathered here to begin an arduous journey. Some of you may not survive...'

But no. Thorin is a man of very few words.

We walk our ponies through the sleepy village of Hobbiton before anyone can begin cooking their first breakfast. Everything is quiet and peaceful, the 'clippity-clop!' of our ponies' various gaits is the only thing that breaks the silence. Birds seem to be roused by the sound and start to softly twitter 'good morning!' to each another. The moon is less and less bright as the sky turns lighter and lighter.

As we reach the final bend in the road, I pause my pony and cast a final glance back at Bag End, perched atop the lush green hill. The gardens and flowers surrounding Bilbo's neighbors' homes create a picturesque scene. At that very moment, the sun peeks over one of the hills, its golden tendrils stretching out to touch the earth.

It's so beautiful.

I reluctantly tear my gaze away, realizing it may be my last glimpse of this wonderful place. I turn forward, only to find Thorin watching me intently. Our eyes lock for a fleeting moment before he turns once more, resuming the company's journey. Self-consciousness washes over me, wondering if he interpreted my lingering gaze as me having second thoughts or something.

As the company continue riding through the woods, the conversation shifts to lighter topics, and the dwarves begins to share stories and jokes. The atmosphere becomes more relaxed.

"Nah, the lad's too soft. The wild's no place for gentlefolk." I hear Gloin rumbling loudly to Oin, echoing Dwalin's statement from last night. Ah, they're talking about whether Bilbo will show or not.

The company all start places bets. I don't remember if this happened in the book or not so I pay extra close attention.

"Are all dwarves warriors?" I speak up, curiously.

Gloin looks back at me, surprised I'm addressing him. "Aye, Lass. All dwarves know battle to some extent."

"Oh come off it, ya lugnut." Dori says, irritably. "Not all dwarves choose to be a 'warrior' as a profession."

Gloin gives him a dark look, "I said 'to an extent'." He addresses me again and rectifies his earlier statement, "All dwarves know battle techniques, but there's many kinds of crafts we dwarves can choose from."

"Would you be able to teach Bilbo and I some fighting techniques?"

They laugh at me.

"I'm not much of a naysayer, me self," Oin chimes in, "But I don't think Mr. Baggins is coming." He gives me an appraising look, "You may be made of tougher materiel since you didn't seem afraid of the dragon or faint. But I don't think a hobbit such as Bilbo Baggins could ever be a warrior."

"Besides that, he's not coming." Nori interjects, shooting me a cold look.

"I'll take that bet. Let's make another wager." I raise a eyebrow. "In addition to the one you have going on right now, on whether or not he will show up, I bet that Bilbo will save the ENTIRE company. At least once."

They laugh again.

"Impossible." Dori shakes his head adamantly.

"Sometimes, to discover what's possible, you have to venture into the impossible." I quote my favorite quote while mimicking my best 'Gandalf voice'. It's the kind of thing he would spout off.

Gandalf turns to me and chuckles heartily when he sees my shameless grin, realizing I'm impersonating him.

Gloin however gives me an unimpressed glower, "Thorin told us that you would be coming with us only to save you from your own stupidity. But I personally don't know what's more stupid Lass, going into the wilds alone or going to the elves for help."

I feel a flash of annoyance at Thorin, the need to prove I'm not foolish rising up again but I temper it. For a second, I wish I could fling Gimli's future bromance with an elf into his father's face. But throwing knowledge into people's faces won't endear me to this company. I don't want to keep making the same mistakes. I need them in order for me to survive this mess and to get back home.

I get the feeling, based on Gloin's words, that Thorin didn't reveal to the company what I said about his family's mental history. And for that, I'm very grateful.

I finally shrug, "Well, do you have any better ideas for me to get home? Should I stay in the Shire and hope the answer drops out of the sky?"

"It's not safe for a lady." Gloin grumbles, as if that would put an end to it.

"You're on a quest to take a mountain back from a dragon, Gloin." I retort, now my turn to give him an unimpressed look, "It's not safe for anyone."

I hear a laugh from Fili, who I didn't realize has been listening to my conversation intently, "She's got you there, Gloin!"

Gloin doesn't speak after that, but when the others decide to accept my wager on whether Bilbo will save the entire company, he chooses in the negative. Guess I'm going to go home with a couple of extra gold coins after all.

But first things first, Bilbo needs to arrive.

As the minutes drag on, my anxiety increases as we get further and further from town. I keep looking behind me every few seconds. I'd been so sure the smell of breakfast cooking would wake him up. I angle my pony and ride up to the wizard in front of me, passing Thorin on my left.

"Gandalf…what if he doesn't come?" I mutter quietly to him so the others won't hear. "What if I messed something up??"

If this is like the books, then Gandalf should be hurrying Bilbo along to catch up with us. Not riding with us! I'm aware of Thorin's scowl behind us while the two of us whisper in front of him like we're plotting something.

"He will, my dear. Just you wait." Gandalf quietly reassures me under his breath.

I nod. "He better. Or else I'm riding back there and dragging his butt back with me!"

I am NOT taking his place on this quest as the burglar. We all might as well turn around and go home because we'll never make it to the Lonely Mountain without him.

Suddenly what he said hits me, and I turn to him with narrowed eyes, "Waaaaait. How do you know he will come when you don't even know how to send ME home?"

"I only know what the Valar reveal to me, Miss Silva. The Valar have been quite clear on Bilbo's involvement just as they were clear with me on yours. But they have not revealed yet how to send you home. All in good time, my dear, all in good time. You can trust that the Valar know what they're doing." Gandalf nods, with a kindly smile.

The Valar love screwing with people it would seem.

I let out a small huff of annoyance, "So how do you know when it's the Valar talkin to you or when it's just your own-"

"Wait! Wait!"

My breath wooshes out of me in relief as I pull the reigns on my pony and look behind me. Unfortunately this causes Thorin to have to pull his pony to a halt as well in order to avoid running into me. He shoots a furious glower at me before turning himself to see.

There he is; hair a mess, backpack bouncing up and down. Running after us with no shoes, just big hairy hobbit feet, is Bilbo Baggins.

"Dude! What took you so long?!" I try to sound annoyed but the relief I feel is evident on my face.

"I, uh, I had to grab a pack and fill it with many many things!" He says sheepishly, indicating the large travel bag on his back. He then looks at the group of dwarves, "Oh, and I signed it! Here!"

He presents the paper to Balin who gives him a look before pulling out a magnifying glass to look at the signature. I share an amused look with Gandalf at the formality of it all. Why would Bilbo have forged his signature?

"Well, everything seems to be in order! Welcome to the company of Thorin Oakenshield, Master Baggins." Ballin smiles and then sends a wink to Bilbo, apparently thinking the same thing.

I grin at Bilbo who looks excited and flushed after racing after us. What a way to start an adventure!

"Give him a pony." Thorin rumbles, his mood dark. He turns forward, his imperious glare turning on me when he notices me watching him. He clicks and kicks his pony to ride past mine, maintaining eye contact until he passes. He passes Gandalf as well, now leading the company in front.

My spirits droop a little as the feeling of guilt returns. Both the cartoon and book are in agreeance that Thorin's supposed to be pleased that Bilbo shows up. They all were. I understand he's upset at me, but why's he upset at Bilbo?

Gandalf gives me a look, as if I've disappointed him. He seems to sense Thorin's bad mood isn't his normal taciturn behavior.

I wilt, knowing that I need to hurry up and just apologize. His bad mood is my fault, and it looks like I've already changed things. It shouldn't be this hard to say I'm sorry, especially when I WANT to...But Gloin's comment earlier irritated me.

The other dwarves' ponies start walking past Gandalf and me, following Thorin.

Bilbo immediately begins to protest, "Oh, no, no, I quite enjoy walking, thank you! I've taken many a 'walking holiday', if you will. I uh, I prefer to walk! It's actually a rather nice way to spend -uuAhh!"

Kili and Fili have walked their horses on either side of him and heave him up to sit on the spare pony's back.

"Keep up, Mister Boggins!" Kili grins at Bilbo with a clap on his shoulders. He gives me a smirk as he passes by, "And you too Miss Silva. We don't want a pretty thing like you getting lost!"

Fili turns and gives me an identical smile as his brother.

I grin back at them, raising a teasing eyebrow "No we certainly do not. Thanks, boys."

"But of course!" Kili beams. "We must be proper gentlemen with a lady-"

"Kili! Fili! Get up here. I have a question for ye." Dwalin barks over at us.

Fili and Kili give me an apologetic look before kicking their ponies to move up toward the front to ride by a scowling Dwalin.

I try to push down the hurt and disappointment I feel and instead look over at the Hobbit next to me, still getting himself situated on the pony.

This is...different. Bilbo came out on this adventure without Gandalf forcing him unlike in the original. Did I do this?

"So...what changed your mind?" I ask him softly.

He shrugs his shoulders, and gives me a smile "Well, I can't miss my own story can I?"

Yup. I did.

I grin, "I'm so proud!"

Bilbo huffs an embarrassed laugh and shakes his head before looking down at the animal beneath him, "Although, I'm not sure I would have been so eager to run after you if I had known I would be riding a pony. Now I have to add 'death by pony hooves' onto my list of fears."

"Aww, c'mon Bilbo! They're not that bad!" I give Sir Gallahop a loving pat.

He grimaces "Ugh, so much pony fur, I-," a large sneeze heaves out of him. "Ugh, I'm having a reaction...Wait! Wait, STOP! We have to go back!"

"Argh, what is it now?" one of the dwarves asks.

"I forgot my handkerchief!"

"Here, you can use mine!" I smile, giving him the handkerchief.

"Oh! Thank you, I...wait a minute…this is mine!"

I give him an amused look, "Yes Bilbo. You gave it to me as a 'way to remember the first time we met', remember?"

Had it really only been yesterday that I'd been packing and planning on going to Rivendell alone? It feels like a lot longer than that.

"Oh…yes, you're quite right. I had forgotten." Bilbo says, looking at the handkerchief in his hands before sighing, "This isn't my favorite one though. Are you sure we can't go back?"

I roll my eyes.

Gandalf agrees with me, "My dear Bilbo, there are many comforts of home that you will have to get on without. The Shire is behind you…The world is before you."

Bilbo and I drink up Gandalf's words like he's the Socrates of the Greeks feeding us wisdom from the gods. Which, in this case, he kinda is. The maiar are like angels, sorta?

It's a rather uneventful day all things considered but Bilbo and I chatter happily about how shocked everyone will be when they find him missing. The other dwarves don't seem to really talk to us, just amongst themselves.

It appears that Bilbo and I are the outcasts of the company, the dwarves appearing to be a very private and close-knit group. I'm sure that they are listening intently to our conversation though, and I try to speak honestly and in a friendly manner, hoping they will see that I'm not a spy. Gandalf also laughs often and joins in with little tidbits.

Our ponies can only travel around 20-25 miles a day, and we have another two days until we arrive at Bree. Normally, I would have missed my car...but the fresh air, sunshine, and plants take away any qualms I have. Sure beats walking.

When we reach a place that Thorin deems worthy enough to camp at; Kili and Fili look after the ponies, everyone gathers five pieces of wood, and Oin and Gloin get a fire going. I help Bombur prepare dinner by cutting the potatoes and other ingredients.

I listen to the dwarves joke and bicker amongst themselves, relaxing after a long day of travel. Almost everyone pulls Da out their pipes to smoke and chat.

A cry of pain has me whipping my head toward the sound in confusion, along with the rest of the company. The sight that greets me is poor little Ori holding his hand away from his body, gritting his teeth in pain. He had just come out of the woods, presumably from the bathroom.

Dori is immediately on it. "Ori! What is the matter?! What happened?!" He takes Ori's hand in his, looking at it worriedly. Nori comes over as well.

"A wasp bit me." Ori grits his teeth, speaking win his polite little accent, "On my writing hand!"

I immediately come closer, wondering what would be good for wasp stings when Oin thankfully saves the day, carrying over a medic bag with him. He lays it out on a nearby log, "Let us have a look at that hand, Master Ori."

He attends to Ori's hand, which looks like the bee or wasp had got him right in the center of the palm. Ouch. Already it's turning red, and I know that in a few minutes it will begin to swell.

I come closer, ignoring Nori and Dori's dark and protective glares aimed at me, and look at Oin's medic bag with interest. He has some interesting tools I've never seen before. As well as a few small glass vials with different powders and plants bottled inside.

"That's going to swell up a bit, lad." Oin echoes my thoughts, "Keep the ointment on it and it'll help with the pain. Nothing to do about the swelling but wait."

It's a shame they don't have any ice packs in Middle Earth.

"But my hand! How will I write?" Ori says, looking devastated. "I have to document our journey! I'm the scribe!" The way he makes it sound; it's the end of the world. He had been scribbling furiously at some sheafs of paper with his quill before taking a bathroom break.

"Ye can't write with a swollen hand, lad. You'll have to wait 'til ye heal up first."

Ori looks like he's about to cry.

Dori and Nori put comforting hands on top of Ori's shoulders and Dori starts muttering something to him in dwarf language.

"This is some rotten luck. First day of our quest and our scribe has gotten stung." Oin shakes his head. "Perhaps it's an omen?"

The dwarves surrounding Ori look up to me.

I frown, looking around me to make sure they are, in fact, looking at me and not someone behind me. Unfortunately the rest of the camp have been following the proceedings closely.

"Uhhh, why are you all looking at me?" I ask innocently.

"Well? Is it an omen, Lass? Or isn't it?" Gloin asks gruffly, arms crossing over his chest.

"Uhhh, no? Ori just got stung." I feel bewildered.

Is this what being a seer is?

"Aye, but on our first day? That spells bad luck it does." Gloin says with a head shake.

"Oi! Come off it ya tosser!" Nori says angrily to Gloin. "Not everything has to mean something!"

Gloin and Oin get riled up and start arguing with Nori and Dori for being unbelievers, while Nori and Dori go off about Boin being koo-koo and that sometimes a dream is simply a dream. They both have valid arguments and I stand there bewildered while watching them, until I notice Ori.

Poor little Ori is just standing there, in between both parties, getting blasted in the eardrums.

Before someone intercedes, like I know Thorin will, I decide to end it.

"Hey! Calm DOWN EVERYONE!" I yell, making them stop fighting and look at me in surprise. "It isn't an omen. Yeah, our trip is going to be a crazy one, but not because a bee said so. Sheesh!"

I focus my gaze on Ori and give him a gentle smile, "Hey, Ori? If you would like, I would be honored to act as 'assistant' scribe until your hand heals up. That way you don't forget anything you want to write! It is the first day after all."

Ori's eyes widen and he automatically glances at Dori who is also looking at me with surprise. Nori watches me with assessing eyes, but not unkindly.

I backtrack, feeling nervous of rejection, "I'm sure my writing isn't as beautiful as yours, but if you need them..." I hold my hands up for inspection, "You have my hands."

The five dwarves are stunned, watching me with shocked faces. I'm aware of the silence from the rest of the camp as well.

I purposefully used a term that would be familiar to them. Like when Aragon had offered his sword, Legolas his bow, and Gimli his axe to Frodo. It held a deeper meaning than I originally thought while watching the Fellowhip of the Ring movie. One evening, while I was chopping onions in Bilbo's kitchen, I joked that he 'had my knife'. He then explained to me that this phrase was a way to express very deep 'friendship and loyalty'. A much stronger version of 'at your service' that the dwarves frequently use. I was basically pledging myself to 'the cause' of cutting onions for Bilbo.

And in this case, I am pledging myself to Ori's cause of documenting the journey as much as he has need of me, as a token of loyalty and friendship.

When neither Nori or Dori say anything to the contrary, Ori finally nods and smiles a very shy but pleased smile, "I would like that very much, Miss Peyton. I thank you for the honor of having my own assistant!"

I grin back, relieved, "Ok, great! Just tell me what you want me to write and I'll do it word for word."

One down, twelve more dwarves to go.

Ori and I sit together for the rest of the evening as he dictates to me the words he would've written himself tonight if he were able. I scratch the quill the way Bilbo had taught me, doing my best to not leave any ink splotches.

Because I would oooh and ahhhh over his books and maps and writing style, Bilbo had given me a few 'Tolkien' calligraphy lessons because I loved the way they write here. It was hard learning how to use a quill at first, but without any pens here in Middle Earth, I learned quickly enough.

I guess I did need writing and reading on this quest after all!

Dori hovers near, his face much gentler and welcoming to me than before. Nori also isn't frowning at me for my 'seer abilities' and even goes as far as to fetch me the portable desk Ori used to write with. You have to write at an angle so the ink doesn't splotch.

I can't help myself and I glance over to see Thorin's reaction to all of this but he isn't looking at me. He seems to be speaking to Fili and Kili with a serious expression. Both of them, however, ARE looking at me as he speaks. They quickly turn their gazes back to Thorin when they notice me noticing them.

I feel worried, hoping Thorin isn't telling them to stay away from me.

After a delicious dinner by 'Chef Bombur' (Bilbo cooks better) I lay on the cold ground, feeling tired and full and ready to go to sleep. And a little sore to be honest. Riding a pony all day is unpleasant.

"Lass, you're going to want to roll out your bedroll." Says a voice from somewhere to my right.

It sounds like that one dwarf with the weird hat I'd sat by at Bilbo's house, but I'm too tired to open my eyes and instead reply with a noncommittal grunt.

"Lass, can you hear me? It's going to get cold tonight, you'll want to roll out your bedroll.

I open my eyes with a sigh, "Yeah. I can hear you."

"It'll get colder as the night progresses." He repeats for the third time, kindly. "Come on Lass, I'll help ya."

He gives me a hand up and helps me roll out my sleeping bag. It's not really a sleeping bag. It doesn't have zippers and it's not made out of synthetic materials, but it's made of wool and I sigh when I get into it. "Thank you...what was your name again?"

"Well, I'll be begging your pardon Miss Peyton! We chatted at the table and on the ponies and I haven't even introduced me self! The name's Bofur."

"Bofur." I repeat, smiling at him. "Thank you."

I then close my eyes, comfortable and unwilling to move.

Bofur wants to continue conversing, however.

"That was a mighty kind thing you did, Lass. I'm sure Ori appreciated that."

I nod, "Thanks. Ori is a good guy."

A pause, "So... are you really a seer like Boin is?" He asks.

I open my eyes and look at him. His face is open and his eyes seem sincere. I think out loud, "Well, I'm not sure what kind of seer Boin is. But he was right about the portents. But…"I decide to answer him honestly, "I have to admit that things have been very different than how I imagined them being."

"Such as?"

"Well, everyone in the company looks completely different than how I thought they would...except maybe for Bilbo and Gandalf, somewhat. And... the personality of everyone is different as well. Besides that, though, it's been somewhat accurate so far."

Bofur nods thoughtfully, before he peers at me, "Can you give me a prophecy?"

I suddenly feel like a fraud. I never should have claimed to be a seer. But I had thought I was leaving anyways, so I thought it'd be ok to mess around with them a little.

I sigh, "Honestly? I don't think I AM a seer, Bofur. I know the future or, at least, I thought I did…but… but I'm not here to tell the company about the future. I'm here to change it. So, if I tell you the future, it'll be pointless since it's probably not going to happen the way I tell you. Because I'm going to change it anyways. Does that make sense?"

Bofur looks intrigued, "You're right; that doesn't sound like a seer at all. But I've heard tell that when a seer gives a prophecy, it can have multiple interpretations." He gives me a look, "Must be something very important you need to change if the Valar sent someone from another world."

I shrug and nod, not meeting his curious eyes. "Yeah. It is."

"Can you at least tell me what we were originally going to face on this trip?" He tries again.

I hum thoughtfully, thinking. Eh. Like I said before all this started, I don't take responsibility for the mess I make. That's the Valar's problem.

I shrug, "Well, if it goes the way I think, then just the usual. Wargs and Orcs," I copy the same way he described Smaug to Bilbo, "A few trolls. A couple of Stone Giants in the distance. A few Goblins. Nothing major until Mirkwood though, which I'm probably not going to survive. Some elves. An orc that just won't die. And of course, the Dragon. Like I said, nothing major."

Bofur laughs, long and hard.

"Is that all, then?" He finally guaffs, finally able to speak, "Well, that's quite a relief!"

We both grin at each other, speaking the same language of sarcasm. He clearly doesn't believe me at all. I think I lost him at Stone Giants.

"I like you Bofur. Tomorrow, I want you to tell me where you got your hat." I laugh and close my eyes again with a sigh.

He allows me to sleep after that. My last thought is that I will apologize to Thorin tomorrow, I promise myself.

I'm surprised I last as long as I do, the guilt chewing on my entrails every time I look up to where Thorin rides at the front of the company. Two more days have passed and I have dutifully helped Ori while his hand has been puffy and in pain. The company have gradually turned more friendly towards me, while Thorin's expressionless looks and aloof demeanor have not. Every time I want to go up to him and try to make amends, my mind tries to psych me out of doing it.

I'm surprised when, the morning after I offer to help Ori, I find Kili and Fili riding beside me once more, asking questions with the rest of the company about my world. Their curiosity is evident in their eyes as they seek knowledge about a planet other than their own. Dwalin doesn't call the two Durinsons back up to him, and I realize it's a deliberate act on his part to inadvertently gather information about me. Whether Fili and Kili are aware of this or not, I don't know. But I remember seeing Thorin speaking with the two of them the other night, and I look quizzically to where the leader of our company rides.

Since then, I've been staring at the back of his head a lot these past few days to be honest.

Thorin sits straight in his saddle, not slouched like me. I have horrible posture. His broad shoulders are held back regally, embodying the true essence of a King. His wavy hair isn't covered by a cloak and rests on his shoulders like a dark curtain.

Riding alongside Ori, I halfway listen as the young dwarf enthusiastically details all the things he's heard about Erebor's numerous libraries. Based on the amused and curious expressions of the company, this isn't normal behavior for the shy dwarf.

Dori and Nori follow closely along on their ponies, smiling with pleasure at their younger brother's exuberance.

"I do so hope that Smaug hasn't destroyed too many of the libraries!" Ori continues in concern, "If I were to become the curator, I'd have to painstakingly try and rewrite the tomes that have been burned! It would take a lifetime of work!"

Honestly, he actually sounds like he'd enjoy that. A wave of apprehension washes over me and I hope he didn't interpret my 'offer of hands' to mean that I would help him write the entire trip since I had only intended it until his hands were healed! If so, then I'm doomed, since there's no honorable way to retract the offer once made.

When we finally camp and dinner is ready, Ori gives me a chance to breath and I go up to get my bowl of stew. When Bofur told Bilbo that Bombur ate cheese by the block, it had just been a mean joke. What really happened is Bombur packed the huge wheels up, and now we have cheese every dinner which enhances the stew's flavor.

Bombur, with a wider than usual smile, ladles the thick and cheesy rabbit potato soup into my bowl. I turn to go sit down, anxious to dig in, when I notice Thorin sitting outside the company as he sharpens his axe. It's been three days, and the weight of what I need to do has only grown worse as more time passes. I lower my eyes in shame as I realize that now is the time to apologize.

"Uh, Bombur?" I turn back to him, my voice quiet but determined, "Can I have one more bowl please?"

He gives me an apologetic, but exasperated look, "Ye can't have seconds until you've finished your first bowl, Lass."

I grin, a huff of amusement escaping me, "It's not for me."

I give a small meaningful glance towards Thorin's direction with my eyes, and Bombur raises his eyebrows. He quickly and obligingly pours a ladle of thick nutritious stew into another bowl and hands it to me with a sober nod, understanding my intention to offer an olive branch.

Off to battle it is, waving a white flag.

I take a deep breath and walk over in his direction. He hears my approach and looks up, gaze fixed on me from a distance. Embarrassment courses through me as he watches me, and I wish I could just appear before him, instead of allowing him time to contemplate the possible reasons I'm coming over. I can feel the surprise and wariness rolling off of him, his emotions palpable in the air.

Attempting to exude confidence, I try and give him a smile, "Hi. I brought you dinner." I say as I sit down across from him without permission, trying to face him directly.

His gaze flickers down to the second bowl I have, confusion etching his features.

I can't help but try and add some humor to ease the tension, "And I poisoned it." I hold it out to him and quirk a smile to let him know I'm kidding. "You know, for friendship?"

Thorin raises an eyebrow at my casual mention of regicide, but after a moment, he accepts the bowl with a hesitant nod of thanks. Glancing back at the camp, I notice curious glances directed our way, and it seems like things have gone a little quiet for the most part. Everyone in the company seem to be wondering how our conversation will unfold.

This whole situation is painful...but not as painful as having this strange unresolved tension between us. Time to eat my humble pie.

"I, um...I want to apologize...for what I said back at Bilbo's house." My words tremble just a little as I look down at his thick leather shoes, unable to meet his questioning eyes. "I regretted my words the moment after I said it, and I've been working up the courage to come to you about it for the past few days. I was...I mean, I knew better. Not only did you NOT deserve to be talked to like that, but we all have issues in our family."

Thorin listens quietly, and I can feel his unwavering attention, "And...and our family's mistakes don't reflect who we are as a person. I spoke thoughtlessly, as well as in anger. And I was angry because..." I go ahead and lower the metaphorical axe on myself, "well, because you were right. I was stupid for thinking of traveling on my own. The idea was reckless and dangerous and I'm a very foolish human." There. I've completely destroyed my pride. It's lying in the dust, bleeding and broken. "I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

Silence hangs in the air, and I glance up at Thorin, my heart pounding in my chest, my face flushed. I marvel at the change that has come over him! His expression has softened, the tension in his shoulders (that I didn't realize was there) dissipates, and the hard lines in his face relax. A flicker of surprise even crosses his features and I realize that he didn't think I had it in me to apologize.

I feel chagrined. I didn't know just how much my comment had affected him! My guilt intensifies and I internally kick myself, wishing I had just gone ahead and done it sooner. This quest is already hard enough for him, and I'm here to help him.

He takes a deep breath, his voice now devoid of the anger I had come to expect from him, "I appreciate your honesty and your willingness to admit your faults. It takes courage to face one's own mistakes." Thorin's gaze shifts away momentarily, and a mix of contemplation and understanding crosses his face. "You are the first human to apologize to me for an offense given."

I blink in surprise, "No human has ever apologized to you? You mean, like, ever?"

He looks back at me, repeating himself with conviction, "You are the first. However, no human has ever known about the gold sickness that plagues my family either. Which means you are either a frightfully good spy...or you spoke the truth about your foreknowledge." His tone is firm, but not harsh, "We must remain focused and united. Your presence here, despite the doubts and mistakes, shows a willingness to rectify your errors and contribute to our cause. I witnessed what you did for Ori, and believe your intentions are genuine."

I relax and feel almost weak with relief.

Thorin notices my visible reaction to his words and his eyes soften further. He locks gazes with me, and his voice carries a hint of respect, "I accept your apology. We all have our flaws and moments of weakness. It is how we learn and grow from them that truly matters. We must move forward, and face whatever challenges lie ahead."

A feeling of peace envelops me, sweet and overwhelming.

"Thank you, Thorin." I nod, and swallow down the tightness in my throat. "We're all just trying to get home, right?" I ask, realizing that we're all together in this. United by a common goal.

He graces me with a gentle smile, a rare sight that warms my heart, "Yes. Yes we are."

And with that, he finally takes a bite of the stew that I brought for him. It's as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders as well, and I can't help but feel a surge of gratitude for his willingness to forgive.

Even though we spoke low enough so no-one would hear, the company seems to sense the shift in the atmosphere. Their curious glances have transformed into looks of relief and contentment. The noise picks up somewhat as they talk and laugh amongst themselves. It's as if the tension that had lingered among us has dissipated, replaced by a renewed sense of unity and lightness.

I sit there and eat my soup with Thorin, feeling a warm peaceful feeling, happier than I've felt since the quest started.

I'm surprised, to be honest. This whole time I thought for sure he would carry a grudge a lot longer than that. It was one of the reasons I didn't apologize until now. Wasn't there a quote somewhere about how he never forgave and never forgot? Or, maybe...I've judged him all wrong? Maybe he would forgive his grudges against orcs and elves and dragons too, if they actually apologized and sought his forgiveness.

Ok, not Dragons or Orcs. There's only so much forgiveness to go around. But maybe he'd even be willing to forgive Thranduil if the elf actually apologized and sought to gain his forgiveness and make restitution for the lack of compassion.

Not that it would happen in a million years, but still...it's a nice thought.

The stars and moon cast a gentle glow over our campsite as we settle down into our bedrolls for the night. It's a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there is always a glimmer of hope. And for the first time, I can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the opportunity to be part of this extraordinary adventure.

End of Chapter

What are your thoughts? Should I have dragged out the apology for longer, or was 3 days too long and she should have apologized immediately? Lol, this chapter was 11,000 words and I had to freaking cut it in half and then tweak it A LOT. I'm glad I did though, because it's already 8,000.

Good grief Peyton! Can any of you relate to Peyton taking her sweet time to apologize? I usually apologize right away, personally. But Peyton is her own character, lol.

This chapter was one of my more difficult ones so PLEASE let me know what you think! Reviews are amazing!