The Fanfiction website has been really REALLY weird lately and I'm not getting any emails when people review (so I'm sorry if I don't respond until much later!) The system says that my email is rejecting messages from the site, which isn't true. I can't even check my stats to see how much traffic I'm getting, lol, so thank you to everyone who reviews because I know that at least YOU see the notifications!

Taking you all by the hand and leading you on this journey with me is probably my favorite thing about being a writer! I got 7 follows/favorites in one week and I think all this power is getting to my head. Thanks for making it fun! :3

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"Sometimes I wonder if 'Love' is worth fighting for. Then I look at you. I'm ready for war." - Unknown

~Chapter 18~

A Future at Stake

I feel a rush of shock as if a bucket of ice-cold water has been poured over my head. "Are you serious? That's not... how could that... what?!" My words stumble over each other in disbelief. Gandalf watches me, his face turning grim as he realizes that this shouldn't have happened. My fear has come true - something drastic has changed in the story that I knew and loved, more so than the wargs.

Thorin curses in his dwarf language, his expression filled with anger and frustration, as if he wants to punch an orc, or at least an elf. Balin hangs his head as if the fight has been drained out of him, making him appear older and wearier. Bilbo maintains his polite demeanor but, as he looks around at the rest of us, gauging our reactions to the news, disappointment shows as he purses his lips. Gandalf looks pale, his face etched with a sorrow I've never seen before. All his plans have been rendered useless. He closes his eyes, visibly praying in his mind to the Valar, and leans heavily on his staff.

"Well, that's that then." Balin shakes his head, grieved. "Perhaps we can try next year, but..."

I feel a chilling wave of confusion wash over me. How could this have happened? How can they fail before they've even had a chance to begin? This isn't how it's supposed to go! How is this possible?

When I first arrived here all those months ago, I didn't care much about changing Middle Earth's future. After all, it didn't directly affect me since I was going home, so why should I worry? I had brushed it off as someone else's problem and casually passed out secrets of the future as if they were candy. But now, as I gaze upon the crushed faces of those who have become very dear friends, witnessing their determined hope replaced by despair, it does directly affect me. I feel it deep in the core of my very being.

I rack my brain, desperately searching for something that could have thrown off the timing by a single day. And then it hits me like a lightning bolt. It was my fault. I had slowed us down by a day when I succumbed to hypothermia. I am the only variable in this mess. I was sent to aid the quest and all I've done is botch it up. Just like I botch everything up. The entire quest would have been better off without me.

Thorin doesn't know the original timeline, though. He doesn't know what the future is supposed to be; he only knows what is. He looks at me with a hopeful expression, expecting me, the supposed Seer, to have foreseen this. When he sees my gutted expression, he realizes that I didn't know.

"We will inform the company of our departure tomorrow," Thorin says, his disappointment making his voice softer than normal.

I don't understand the look on his face but it makes me feel sicker than sick as he turns and walks off without a second glance at any of us, wanting to be alone. Balin soon follows, his disappointed expression causing me to wilt even further.

Lord Elrond is silent for a moment, and then, "The company's aim was to reclaim their lost kingdom, was it not?"

Gandalf looks chagrined, caught it seems, "I was going to tell you."

Elrond looks slightly annoyed, the first time showing such emotion, "Were you?"

Gandalf, who never admits when he's wrong about anything, straightens up to his full height and changes the direction of the conversation, "Yes...and I really think you should trust what I'm doing!"

Elrond shakes his head at his old friend, seeming to be very used to this sort of thing from him, "You are not the only Guardian to stand watch over Middle Earth. Perhaps it is for the best then that the quest has ended before anyone got hurt." He glances at Bilbo and I, the non-warriors of the company, before inclining his head to us all and taking his leave.

Gandalf huffs, aware that he's probably in the doghouse with Elrond, but does not follow the elf Lord. Now, only Bilbo, Gandalf, and I remain in the courtyard, surrounded by the soft white glow of Rivendell's candles mixed with the light from the stars and moon above. But none of the beauty can reach my heart at this moment; it feels as though my heart has turned to ashes in my chest.

Gandalf turns toward me and demands, "How could this have happened!?"

I shake my head, tears burning in my eyes, "It's my fault, Gandalf. When I got hypothermia, Thorin had the company take a day off to rest. It must have thrown the timing off. I…I didn't mean to..." I can't continue; my throat constricts as tears stream down my cheeks.

I've ruined everything.

"There must be another way to decipher that map!" Gandalf growls, his staff clacking against the pale stone as he begins to pace, "The Valar sent you here to help, not to hinder and they're never wrong. There must be something we're missing!"

I sigh, wiping my tears on my sleeve, paying no attention to the white handkerchief Bilbo waves in my peripheral vision. "Even if we find another way to read it, our time is running out. Unless we leave tomorrow morning and push ourselves to make up for the lost day, we'll never get to the Lonely Mountain by Durin's Day. That, and we have no ponies."

"What is Durin's Day?" Bilbo finally speaks up, his voice filled with curiosity.

"Some sort of Dwarven holiday, I think. The map says that 'the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole'. You have to be in the right place at the right time and only then will the door reveal itself." I sigh and shake my head in defeat. "But now it's all over."

A great feeling of despair washes over me. Now that the quest is ruined; will the Valar send me home now? I mean, technically Thorin, Fili, and Kili will survive since the whole quest is off. Unless they try again next year and die? My heart trembles at the thought.

It takes me a while to notice the silence that has fallen upon us. When I look up, Gandalf is grinning at me brightly, his bushy eyebrows raised high upon his face. "Oh, I wouldn't say that, Miss Peyton."

I look at him curiously, trying to comprehend his sudden change in demeanor. He gives me an expectant look back as if waiting for me to realize something. After a few moments of waiting, his expression falls into an annoyed deadpan.

I frown and shake my head, "We can't read the map, so I don't know what you're..."

wait...

"I...I know what the map says!" I whisper, my eyes widening with realization. "I already know! We can still complete the quest, you guys!"

I'm such a blonde sometimes! With how different this experience has been from the original book, I forget that some things are concrete. There are some things that I could never change, like moon runes on a map.

"Come! We must tell the others!" Gandalf sets off quickly in the direction that Thorin and Balin went.

"But, wait! Gandalf! Isn't that, I don't know, like….cheating or something?" I ask worriedly as I rush after him, with Bilbo hot on my tail.

"Cheating?! This isn't a game where we keep score of who does what or how we do it!" Gandalf's gruff voice rings out, annoyed. He doesn't look back as he power walks. "The Valar sent you, and therefore, if you change things, it is meant to happen!"

"But," I huff and puff as I struggle to keep up with his quick legs, my own legs still extremely sore from my earlier running. "Doesn't that, like, ruin the concept of free will? Like, it doesn't matter what I choose - I'm technically not choosing since it's 'supposed to happen'?"

"No, it doesn't. Your freedom to choose is exactly why the timeline is different, is it not? But there's no time for me to explain something that will clearly go over your brain." Gandalf replies, exasperated. For once, I'm not even offended. I'm just immensely relieved that the whole quest isn't a complete bust! Thorin is going to eat me alive though, I grimace.

A soft, airy voice whispers from a path to our side, "Peyton."

I stop and gasp, my eyes catching and holding on to the white glowing elf, like a candle flame slowly moving towards me from the trees. There is no doubt in my mind who it is and I can only stare in absolute shock as THE Galadriel floats closer and stops with a peaceful smile on her ever-peaceful features.

I glance back at Gandalf and Bilbo, wondering if I'm hallucinating or something, but I can't ask because they're far ahead, continuing on their hurried course. They didn't seem to have noticed her.

"Guys!" I call, but they're already disappearing from view into one of the hallways.

I nervously look back at the ethereal figure before me, feeling apprehensive about being in Galadriel's company alone. She isn't even in this story! How does she know my name?

"I know the thoughts and hearts of men. But you already knew that, didn't you?" She answers my unspoken question, giving me a cryptic smile.

I gulp. I never really liked Galadriel as a character. Growing up a tomboy, getting dirty and scratched up with my siblings, I found her inhuman perfection hard to relate to. She was too perfect, too flawless. Like a Barbie doll. Loved by everyone, never making a mistake, and literally glowed with an aura of perfection. It was something I found hard to stomach. Her gliding walk, her lilting voice, and even her soundless breathing were perfect. I bet Galadriel has never farted, burped, or cussed in her entire life. She probably never spilled BBQ sauce on her pristine white dress.

There's a part of me that wished I could be her, but the other part of me, the Peyton who enjoys eating cereal in her pajamas for lunch, never will be. And I think I'm okay with that. Just before coming to Middle Earth, I had a burping contest with my siblings during Christmas break while drinking soda. So Galadriel, as a character, was just too unrealistic. No one could be that perfect.

Except for Galadriel.

Her serene smile fades as she listens to my unkind thoughts...and I feel a wave of mortification wash over me. Mind reading should never be a thing. I watch her, feeling frozen like a deer caught in headlights.

"You know many things, Peyton of Earth," she speaks softly "Many things about your world…and apparently many things about ours." Her eyes narrow, "But you judge others too quickly… and you do not know what is in their hearts."

I lower my head, embarrassed as I feel the sting of her reprimand. I'm well aware of my pride and ego, as evidenced by Thorin and my arguments. My intelligence, which made school a breeze, has only helped fuel my pride. It's led me to judge others based on their appearance and immediate actions, deciding if they're worth my time or not.

"Yes." She answers my unspoken thoughts, "And while you are very intelligent...you are immature for a young woman of your age. But perhaps that is common in your world? You are at an age in this world where you should already have children. You desire marriage, and yet you shut potential suitors out for fear of getting hurt… your fear of emotional intimacy hinders your happiness. Resourceful, yet lazy. Knowledgeable, yet very hypocritical."

I feel like shriveling up underneath her gaze, many of my flaws laid bare. She's right.

"But, that is not all….you are compassionate of other's pain. You try to be a friend and a help to those around you. You are determined, And you are kind, when you remember to be.

I look up in surprise as she speaks and I feel wonder as she smiles gently down upon me.

She continues, "You want to see people succeed, and harbor no jealousy towards those who have more material possessions than you. You rejoice in others' happiness and empathize with their failures. You strive to be honest and just with others, and it pains you when they do not reciprocate. You have a great capacity to love. Indeed, I have hope for you yet, for you are adaptable and willing to change. You have a light uniquely your own."

I feel incredibly humbled as she lays out my many flaws but also my virtues. She gives me a wry smile, almost playful, "Strange, is it not, that there are two sides to every coin?"

She knows about the coin then?

"I'm sorry." I whisper, speaking aloud for the first time, "You're right. There's more than what meets the eye with each person, it's just that…well, I've always believed you to be fictional. So, it only makes sense that you were only two-dimensional to me. Until now, there was no reason to believe you were anything but fictional. But, as you said, I tend to do this with real people in my world as well."

She simply smiles once more and I get the feeling that she was never truly offended to begin with. She is, after all, thousands of years old and is probably above being offended by the opinions of young, ignorant humans… such as myself.

I sigh, shaking my head, "There are so many things that I didn't think possible that actually are. Things that I never imagined could happen have happened!"

Does two plus two even equal four, anymore? Everything is so confusing. Everything I thought I knew has been turned upside down and inside out. My whole time here has been one thing after another and I don't understand why I'm even going through something like this in the first place.

"Like you said, I'm not special." I finish, feeling small.

"I never said you weren't special, Peyton." Galadriel softly speaks, her voice rising and falling like a wave, "Merely, that there is much to improve. You have extraordinary potential if you only don't get in your own way."

"Thank you." I blush at the compliment from someone as special and perfect as her.

She merely smiles as she hears my thoughts, then turns around, "Come. If the Valar have sent you to change things, then you must prepare. I fear your task shall not be an easy one."

"Don't I know it," I murmur as I begin to follow her graceful, lilting steps.

I pause momentarily, looking toward where Gandalf and Bilbo went. I worry about Thorin's reaction and feel anxious about what he might think. Will Gandalf and Bilbo think I was too afraid to face the company so I ran off?

I have no choice but to turn and hurry after Galadriel who has not stopped. She glides through the lush trees, along paths that I seem to stumble my way on. I realize we are headed to the river. The moonlight is otherworldly, casting a silver glow upon the leaves and plants around us, intensifying Galadriel's luminescent glow even more.

She stops at the edge of a gurgling silver stream where a calm pool lies off to the side, the moonlight reflecting in its gentle ripples. The pool is more of a large puddle, really. I watch, fascinated, as she gracefully bends down next to the moving stream to cup a handful of water in her pale white hands. She pours it into the puddle like a silver ribbon flowing from her hands, barely adding anything to it. She turns to look at me silently and I know what's next.

I step forward and look at the small pool nervously, seeing only my wide-eyed expression and the pinpricks of stars in the sky behind me. Without consciously meaning to, I remember what Lord Elrond said about gathering light from said stars in pools of water or mirrors, and my attention flickers to them, twinkling behind my reflection.

The pool's image begins to shift and I stare slack-jawed and wide-eyed as I see myself laying peacefully in the strange round ditch-like hole I woke up in when this whole mess started. The dirt from the ground looks like it's smoking faintly around me. The vision changes before I can fully evaluate the steam coming from the ditch. I see Thorin and I meeting on the road, the two of us with cautious expressions as we stand warily across from one another as we study the other's appearance. I see Bilbo serving me tea in his parlor, our walks through Hobbiton, and then Gandalf's face when he peeks through the door the first time we met. Scenes of me interacting with the members of the company play out and I watch Thorin and I conversing on the trip here, glancing and smiling at one another. It almost looks like a romantic movie montage with the way I laugh at him and the way he shakes his head and tries not to smile at me.

I blush and briefly wonder why I am being shown this. I can't look up to see Galadriel's opinion, however, as my eyes seem to be glued to the image of Thorin's blue eyes crinkling at the edges in amusement. My heart gives a small squeeze.

Suddenly the friendly faces of the company change into a large grotesque face with bulbous eyes and a crown of bones on its head. A creepy king? It quickly shifts into an even more menacing creature, a pale face with red scars drawn upon it, sharp teeth, and cruel icy eyes seeming to glow in the light of a fire. A sickening grin spreads on his pale scarred face as he stares up at something.

My breath comes out in a shaky exhale, full of amazement. Could THAT be Azog? He's far more menacing than any Orc I've ever seen!

But then I see spiders, and I wish the scene had stuck to the Pale Orc.

A cold sweat breaks out over my goose-bumped skin as my whole chest clenches and my heart tries to escape. The eerie, creepy-crawly feeling skitters up my back. My nerve endings tremble and shiver inside my body as my fight-or-flight response kicks in. My vision starts going wobbly and I think I'm going to faint. They're enormous.

I'm about to muster the strength to turn my face away from the sight of the spiders wrapping the group in white spider silk when a familiar blonde elf's face suddenly fills the screen, his expression cold. Transitioning from spiders to Legolas gives me whiplash as I stare at his handsome face in shock with Thorin's face scowling in the background.

Legolas isn't even in this story! So how...

Another elf's face appears, the most beautiful I've seen. He makes the elves of Rivendell seem like homely folk. His pale cornsilk hair is similar to Legolas's but without any braids or adornments. His eyes are also cold and his expression haughty. Who is HE?

A man's face is next, a human, with dark brown hair and a mustache. He has a long bow aimed at something. My mind is drawing a blank. I don't know who he is? Maybe Bard? Then Smaug fills up the screen. I stare wide-eyed at the beautiful and terrible red dragon, towering over Bilbo. Smaug's flames fill up the puddle causing a gasp to part my lips. I can almost feel the heat through the water and the whole pool turns a deep molten yellow. The shimmering light from the gold reflects onto my face, entrancing my eyes with its overwhelming color. I see Thorin speaking to me, both of us translucent in the golden light as if it's a dream. His expression is angry and he holds my wrist with a dark expression.

The gold swirls away to become grey swords clashing against one another at the Battle of the Five Armies. Blood and carnage sweep the landscape with pale snow capped mountains in the distance. And then…I see Azog, his hand on the back of Fili's neck, on top of a black tower.

Without any warning, a sword pierces through Fili's middle.

I choke and shriek in surprise, "NO!"

What is happening?!

It feels like my chest has been stabbed as well. I'm unable to breathe as I watch his expression of shock and pain as he dies quickly.

No! No!

But there's no chance to recover from the horrifying scene. Another grotesque orc, with a milky white eye, now stabs Kili through the chest with a long spear-looking object. There's an elf crying in the background, her long hair the color of red autumn leaves, as she lays weakly on the snow.

"NO! STOP!" I cry aloud, my emotional anguish intensifying as yet another son of Durin fades. Someone stop them! Anyone!

But there is no mercy. The images change to Thorin being crushed to the ice under one of Azog's feet.

I can't watch this! "PLEASE!"

And yet, I do. Azog stabs Thorin in the chest, the sword piercing through his clothing and skin as if the strongest dwarf I know is made of butter. But then Thorin reaches up, sword in hand, and stabs Azog in the chest as well. Azog dies quickly even as Thorin stands up. For a breathless moment, I wonder if he's miraculously going to make it before he collapses on the frozen bank of the lake. Bilbo is suddenly there with him, despairing over his now lifeless gaze, a bloody acorn clenched in his shaking hand.

A raw, burning sensation engulfs my heart as I gaze upon a huge cavern that must be inside Erebor. In its center lie three large rectangular slabs of onyx stone, upon which rest the lifeless bodies of Thorin, Fili, and Kili. Their pale, lifeless faces, adorned with majestic swords clasped in their hands, evoke a profound sense of pain. Witnessing the noble and majestic Thorin Oakenshield devoid of life is truly agonizing. The tear-soaked faces of the company reflect the immense loss they all feel.

Tears stream down my own face, and a single drop falls from my nose down into the water.

Strangely, the scenes from the pool do not cease. The anguish I feel from their fate transforms into a terrible fear and I gasp as the outlines of the dark and evil city from my dreams materialize in the water. The strange and malevolent voice fills air, speaking in an unfamiliar tongue. Black mist consumes the pool's surface, intertwined with whispers of darkness and hissing words. Suddenly, a figure emerges from the black mist that has haunted my dreams...a man? The mist around the man explodes into a fiery shape that I recognize as Sauron's eye from the Lord of the Rings movies. The pupil of the eye is different. The figure of Sauron emerges from within the fire, extending a clawed black hand towards me through the pool.

The spell that had held my body captive, forcing me to watch these haunting images, finally releases its grip. I pull back from the scene, but my limbs tremble, my lungs gasp for air, and I collapse to the floor, falling into a heap. Anguished cries escape my lips, muffed by my hands, "No, no, no...!" I lay my head against the ground, as I shiver and cry. All is silent, except for my muffled sobs.

Fili is so brave... Kili is so vibrant... Thorin is so strong. They do not deserve to die at the hands of Azog. They deserve longer lives to contribute to making the world a better place.

Eventually, I raise my gaze to find Galadriel standing there, silent and wide-eyed. Her large troubled eyes reflect her shock of what we both witnessed in the reflection of the water, as well as what she can read from within my mind.

"Is there no other way?" I plead desperately, my heart consumed by the images burned into my mind. Can I change what I saw, just as Frodo altered his own fate in the mirror?

Her voice grows heavy and low, the pupils of her eyes dilating as if in a trance, seeing something that I cannot. "In order to change the future, you must summon all your courage. If the line of Durin is to survive, a great sacrifice will be required at your hand."

"At my hand? What do you mean?" I implore, my mind racing at a million miles per minute, my body trembling like a leaf. I wipe away the tears from my cheeks, feeling a glimmer of hope.

"Nothing is certain," she whispers, closing her eyes as if in immense pain. "Everyone can alter their path... but only if they change the course that leads to it. But...I must warn you, child..." Galadriel opens her eyes, weariness permeating her gaze, making my bones feel like dust. "Death is not the worst outcome of a story for those noble dwarves. Indeed, there are fates worse than their honorable deaths, where they would find solace in the Halls of Mandos in the next life. It is not as tragic an end as your world may believe. Death is not the end. Not truly."

Confusion furrows my brow. Is she suggesting that their deaths might be a preferable alternative to their continued existence!? That can't be what she's saying! What fate could be worse than death?

"How do I change their fate?" I ask, my resolve hardening. I force myself to stand, even though my legs feel as unsteady as a newborn deer's. "I will do it. Whatever it takes, I will do it. Please, tell me," I plead, my voice filled with anguish.

Galadriel hesitates, and for a moment I'm uncertain she will help me. But then, she seems to be unwillingly pulled back into the trance, and in a low voice, she speaks, "It must be a sacrifice of your all, driven by the greatest of powers."

"But I... I don't have any powers!" I choke, a sense of hopelessness overwhelming me once more. Again, doubts on whether I am truly the right person for this task dampen my soul. "I'm just a human! All I have is my limited knowledge of the story, and it's not even deep knowledge! There's so much I don't know about this world! Things that the book and cartoon never explained!"

Galadriel turns away from me, taking a few unsteady steps. I watch her movements and my eyes widen at her lack of grace. She appears weakened ever since the pool, and I suddenly realize why.

Sauron.

She, too, had seen Sauron come back to life in the mirror. She's not stupid; she can likely guess what that means for Middle Earth. The black mist that I saw, the one that has been haunting my dreams, must be the necromancer. He's the one who will bring Sauron back to the mortal plane, isn't he? Why show me this? Am I supposed to stop him before he can bring Sauron back as well?

Galadriel turns back to me, seeming to regain some measure of control over herself, "All Children of the Light have the 'greatest of power'. With time, if you do not shut the Dwarf King out, as you have done with others, it will blossom and flourish and will lead you to what you must do." Her voice is barely a whisper, "You have the power to change the course of this story, but it will not be easy. It will require sacrifice."

"But what does that mean? What kind of sacrifice? I don't understand!" I cry, my voice filled with desperation.

I need a straight answer, not parables or riddles!

"You will understand when the time is right," Galadriel responds, her expression filled with sadness. While she doesn't look 'old' per se, no one could mistake the elleth of being young as her eyes radiate a weariness of thousands of years. "For every death averted, a life will be required to balance the scale."

"Why me?" I whisper, confusion swirling within me. Her words tangle in my mind, not making any sense and I feel myself grow pale. "Why a girl from Earth and not someone from Middle Earth?"

"I do not know," she replies simply, but not unkindly. "But I am not one to ignore my own advice; there is more to you than meets the eye, Peyton of Earth. Come to know Thorin Oakenshield as a person, not a character. Be a true friend to him and do not shut him out like you tend to do with others. If you can keep that connection open, you will be able to use your greatest power to save him. You are his only hope."

"But... what if I fail?" I ask, my voice trembling.

She doesn't answer directly, but the look in her eyes tells me that she may personally believe that my failure wouldn't be such a terrible thing. I shake off my self-doubt, refusing to let it consume me. I grab it by the collar and smack it in the face, metaphorically speaking, before telling it to sit down and shut up.

My hands clench into fists as determination surges through me. "I won't fail. I will do whatever it takes."

I'll just have to drug Thorin, Kili, and Fili, so they'll pass out. I'll tie them up, lock them in Erebor, and bar the door for three days. If they hate me for it, so be it. It's better for them to hate me than to be dead. Now, where can I find a sleeping potion?

Galadriel stares at me, listening to everything I'm thinking. There is a soft, sad smile on her face. "I have often wondered if humans do not live as long as elves or dwarves because they are more adaptable and learn more quickly than we do. Their time doesn't need to be as long because they are less stubborn. You are so young and yet you already possess so much knowledge. Your opinions and character are constantly evolving, growing, and being re-evaluated every day. And you will learn even more before the end of your journey."

Her words humble me, and I slightly incline my head to her. Galadriel isn't even half as bad as I thought she was. She reminds me of a kind and eternally young-looking grandmother. Like a fairy godmother, only less silly.

"I will take your words to heart."

"I know you will," Galadriel says. The strange depression that had momentarily taken over her lifts and she smiles more warmly, her face radiant and peaceful once more. "From your conversation with Lord Elrond, I see you are already beginning to learn much about not judging others based on appearances. I trust you will come to learn the same about many others."

"Thank you, Galadriel." I whisper, overcome by gratitude.

Without her coming to me today, I would have no idea how to save Thorin. I know the future once more! Galadriel reminds me of Gandalf in that she does selfless acts of kindness for people without expecting anything in return. I wish I had her light.

She offers me a mere nod, accompanied by a serene smile. I get the impression that this was a very difficult thing for her and she was following the will of the Valar. Otherwise, she would not have come. With a graceful turn, she departs, and I watch her back until the gentle glow of her long wavy hair is no longer viewable. Everything is silent beside the soft gurgling of the river.

I turn, feeling shaky as I try and find my way back to my original path. Finally reaching the cobblestone walkway, I take a deep breath and try to take stock of myself. I feel strange, like traveling through a Time Machine or something, and I try to pull myself together. Wiping at the salty tracks on my cheeks, I walk unsteadily in the direction of the company's rooms, trying to make myself look less of a wreck.

As I walk to where I know the company's guest quarters are located, my resolve hardens.

I won't fail. I will do what it takes!

End of Chapter

The next chapter used to be connected to this chapter, but someone told me the chapter is too long (they're right, so I'm not complaining) and so I cut it in half. Enjoy!