GUYS! I'm at 94 reviews! This has been a dream come true. Thank you to everyone who has followed along so far and followed, favorited or reviewed! (Especially my sister who commented as a guest and read to chapter 5, lol. It means so much to me!) I'm so sorry that this has taken so long to get out! More in the comments at the bottom.

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"The best things in life are free. And it is important never to lose sight of that. So look around you. Wherever you see friendship, loyalty, laughter, and love...there is your treasure." -Neale Donald Walsch (Thorin also said something similar as he lay dying in the original timeline.)

~Chapter 20~

Forging Bonds and Facing Shadows

Once again, my senses are assaulted by the monotonous grey stone and the matching grey sky. I find myself back in the sinister castle, where shadows lurk in every corner, appearing darker and sharper in contrast. Strange voices whisper menacingly from all directions, making my skin crawl as the mist-like figure before me approaches, resembling a dark wraith.

Fear courses through me, but anger also simmers within. I do not want to be here, and I am frustrated that this situation seems beyond my control.

Instead of lunging at me like before, however, the tendrils of mist creep towards me without making contact. It becomes clear that he wishes to speak with me, but this realization does not bring any comfort.

"Who art thou? And how didst thou come to be here?" his strange accent and archaic speech resonates around me like a growling melody.

"I'm nobody," I reply immediately, glaring while taking a step backward. "Just an insignificant and very boring person."

The memory of Galadriel's mirror is still fresh in my mind when the image of Sauron emerged from the mist. What kind of being possesses the power to resurrect souls from the dead?

"And yet, thou walkest among dreams," the dark figure contradicts. "How dost thou know of me? From whence dost thou travel from?"

"A place FAR from Middle Earth." I raise an eyebrow and fold my arms, acting brave, "So far away that you'd doubt it even existed."

But inwardly I pause, trying to comprehend his words. Walking among dreams? Is that how I keep ending up here?

Though he lacks eyes and a face, his outline resembles that of a human. The very fabric of space seems to contort around him, creating a terrifying sight. The Necromancer remains silent, but I can sense that he is studying me intently.

"From which world dost thou originate?" he questions.

I gape at him, wondering how he could possibly know I'm from a different world. Admittedly, it doesn't require a genius to realize that I don't belong here. Every time I "dream-walk", I find myself wearing the same clothes I arrived in: blue jeans, a hot pink hoodie, and white sneakers. Fortunately, this is also how I know that I'm just dreaming, since those items are located at the very bottom of my pack. I haven't worn those clothes in a while.

But still! I could be from another land in Arda! So how does he know I'm from an entirely different world?

I glare at him, attempting to muster bravery. However, it feels akin to glaring at an oncoming tornado. "What makes you think I'm from another world? I'm from Middle Earth! But I'm-I'm from across the ocean! Not Valhalla, I-I mean Valinor, but uh...some other place. It's called the United States. So, you may think you know everything, but you don't. Clearly!"

Laughter echoes through the castle, emanating from the Necromancer, sending shivers down my spine. "Foolish mortal. You underestimate the darkness that resides within me. Thinkest thou can trick me? I have witnessed worlds crumble and civilizations fall."

I frown, confusion swirling inside me as I try to understand how he could be so powerful. The Necromancer isn't even mentioned in the Hobbit and he doesn't exist in the Lord of the Rings story. Will he bring Sauron back from the spirit world and then fade into oblivion? Will Sauron kill him?

I shake my head, "Sauron will use you as a pawn and then discard you. But he will be destroyed within the next 50 or so years so don't waste your time!" I snap back.

The darkness begins to swirl in agitation before suddenly calming, the Necromancer silently processing my words. And then, he speaks, "From what source comest thy knowledge?"

"I just know things." I scowl, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more pleasant dreams to get to." I halfway turn from him and glance down the very tall wall I'm standing next to. If I jump, it should startle me awake, right?

"Wast thou sent here by the Valar?" He growls, seeming to grow agitated by my sass.

"Yes," I respond, glancing back up at him with a feeling of hope and power from that knowledge. "And if I can, I will prevent you from resurrecting Sauron."

The dark mist surrounding the Necromancer swirls with anger, his form growing even more menacing. "Thou darest to challenge me? A mere mortal?!"

"Yes," I say, my voice filled with determination as I face him head on. "I may be a mere mortal, but you can't hurt me. Not here. Otherwise, you would've already done it."

The Necromancer's eyes, or what I assume to be his eyes, narrow as he contemplates my words. "So be it. If thou wishest to challenge me, I shall grant thee that chance. But know this, thy hope shall be shattered, and thy dreams transformed into nightmares.

His dark laughter reverberates through the castle, causing my knees to quake as I fall to the grey stone floor, trembling before him as he continues, "The Valar hold no sway in this realm. They send others to perform the work they themselves cannot accomplish. Do not place your faith in beings who posess little interest in thee and thy fate."

Fear consumes me, intensifying as his dark humanoid figure looms over me.

"But... perhaps I can assist thee where the Valar cannot," he declares.

I freeze at his proclamation. Wait, wait, wait...assist me? As in help me? HIM?! He is almost as malevolent as Sauron! There's got to be an ulterior motive.

I narrow my eyes, confused as I slowly stand back up. "You? What could you possibly know about inter-dimensional travel and other planets? How could you help me get back home?"

The entity's darkness swirls around him, and I catch a glimmer of excitement and interest before his aura returns to normal. "I know many things. I am the Necromancer, transcending dimensions and harnessing power from unseen realms is what I do best. From which world dost......do you hail?"

Realizing my mistake, I curse inwardly. He is good, I'll give him that. He managed to make me admit that I am from another world. Or, I just suck at keeping secrets. But what's worse is that he's starting to speak modern English! I need to stop talking with him, asap.

"I'll take my chances with the Valar. And your English sucks; no-one's talked like that in forever." I scoff at him before turning and gazing down the stone steps beside the sheer cliff. If I jump, it should startle me awake, right?

Suddenly, a dark cold mist seizes me from behind, causing my soul to recoil.

The jump scare works though and I'm finally jolted awake. I lie there, panting in the darkness, the elven sheets tangled around me, soaked with my sweat. My nerves feel frayed, tingling and spasming. My back clenches and flinches, as if still feeling the touch of the Necromancer.

I force myself to relax, taking deep, shaky breaths. I'm safe. I'm in Rivendell.

But the Necromancer spoke to me! He mentioned 'dream-walking'?

...

"Mom? Why didn't Peyton just block Sauron out? That way he wouldn't be able to learn more about her and then he wouldn't kidnap her?"

The mother blinked, coming out from the storytelling world, and met her son's inquisitive gaze. TJ had been remarkably patient during the tale as she told it this time, sitting under his covers with his head on his pillow like he was supposed to. But he was only six years old, and his curiosity couldn't have held off forever. He now had sat up, gazing at her earnestly.

Because he had done so well in remaining quiet, she actually appreciated his engagement. After all, it was a testament to his sharp mind that he posed such questions.

"Well, sweetheart, at that time, she didn't know he was Sauron, remember?" His mother paused, a gentle smile gracing her lips as she smoothed the creases on his bedspread. "And the ability to block him out wasn't something she'd learned yet. That comes later, in Mirkwood."

"If I was there, I would have stabbed him through with her powerful sword! Pssssheew!" He narrated his words with a stabbing motion, "And then, I would have punched him in the head!" He punched the pillow on his bed while making a comic-book punching sound. "Psssh!"

She tilted her head, an amused smirk curving on her lips. "You can't punch him, bud. He's like a ghost. And while her sword was special, she couldn't have killed him with it. Maybe just temporarily hurt him, but it wouldn't have been permanent. Only destroying the One Ring can hurt him."

"Can you skip to the part where Dwalin teaches Peyton to use Varzsiel?" T.J. inquired eagerly, still pretending to slice with a sword.

She laughed, "Are you sure you want to skip the part where the Dwarves sneak out of Rivendell and Peyton freaked out about Gandalf staying behind?"

"Sword! Sword! Sword!" the little boy chanted, bouncing with enthusiasm on his bed with each word.

Boys will be boys.

His mother chuckled. "Alright, since it moves the story forward faster. Her first lesson with Dwalin happened on the same day they departed Rivendell. And it was with a stick."

...

A relieved sigh escapes me as we finally stop for camp that night. My feet throb, my legs ache, heck- everything aches!

It's been a long day, walking nonstop. Instead of our usual two-hour break, we only had one hour because we don't have any ponies that need resting anymore. Our packs have gotten three times heavier with all the extra food we're carrying now. AND! To top it off, Thorin's got us moving faster than usual, trying to make up for lost time.

How on earth did Frodo and Sam manage to walk to Mordor for TWO YEARS?!

I unroll my bedroll and plop down with an exhausted sigh, just grateful this day is finally over. "Ugh, I'm never getting hypothermia again," I grumble.

The others chuckle, equally worn out. Then suddenly, two boots come into view beside my bedroll. I look up to see Dwalin's stern face and bald head above folded arms.

"It's time, lass," he says gruffly. "Up ye get."

"Huh?" I ask, confused.

"Ye think I forgot about it? Yer sword training was supposed to start last night, but we had that map issue. Ye won't get out of it this time."

My mouth drops, and I immediately turn to Thorin, feeling betrayed. But he's purposefully avoiding my gaze, deep in conversation with Ori about his scribe work. The others give me sympathetic looks but don't step in.

I turn back to the grizzled warrior. "But Dwalin, I'm so tired! I hardly slept last night because of bad dreams, and we've been walking for ten hours with barely any rest! I can barely stand! And now, after gathering firewood, helping cook dinner, and finally getting comfortable… you want me to learn how to use a sword?" I try to keep my voice calm, but I'm just sounding like an exhausted mess.

Dwalin (cursed be his name) remains firm. "If ye want to survive in this world, ye need to toughen up, lass. I won't be coddlin' ye. Come along now." He turns and walks to a clear spot a little away from the company, expecting me to follow him.

Dwalin's no-nonsense demeanor informs me that I really don't want to die on this proverbial hill. Heaving a pained grunt, I get up and

"Fili? Do you still have my sword?" I ask him tiredly. Please say no. Please have left it in Rivendell...

"You will not need it." Thorin responds for him, seeming to stop using the ruse of speaking with Ori. "You will be practicing with sticks."

Fili gives me a reassuring smile, "I still have it, Pey. I'll just carry it for you until you need it."

I place a hand over my heart and mouth the words "Thank you" to Fili before sending a glare in Thorin's direction, before following Dwalin nervously to the center of the field. My heart pounds in my chest and my anxiety spikes when I notice everyone has stopped what they're doing to watch. Great. I'm even worse when there's an audience to critique me!

He hands me a stick, seems he picked it earlier, and my hands tremble as I grip the wooden "sword". I take a few deep breaths to try to calm myself down.

Pull it together Peyton. You've got to defeat Azog and save Thorin, Fili, and Kili! NO PRESSURE!

Dwalin faces me, carrying himself with a more stern demeanor than usual, his eyes sharp and focused. He then approaches me, a mix of impatience and determination on his face as he notices me quivering like a lamb. "First things first. Your fightin' stance. Stand with yer feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. Keep yer weight balanced."

I gulp and then nod, taking a deep breath to center myself and focus on the task at hand. I try my best to mimic Dwalin's stance, but my legs wobble, and I struggle to maintain my balance.

Dwalin eyes me sternly, "Steady yerself, lass. Ye can't be swayin' like a sapling in the wind. Plant yer feet firm and solid."

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I focus on my feet, imagining them rooted to the ground like the sturdy trunks of trees.

Dwalin doesn't offer any praise, merely moving on to the next step, "Now, grip yer sword. Hold it firm, but not too tight. Ye need control, not a death grip."

He demonstrates the proper grip, his hands covered with his intimidating knuckle dusters. I notice with fascination the gnarly ropes of scars on his forearms, evidence of him being hacked at by swords, no doubt.

"Focus, Lass." He says, noticing where my eyes are.

I blink, forcing myself to watch his posture closely, trying to replicate his technique.

He begins to demonstrate defensive moves, showing me how to block and parry incoming attacks. He moves with agility and skill, his movements a testament to his years of training.

Thorin couldn't have picked a better teacher, I think to myself as I try to follow along. My movements are initially clumsy and slow. Then Dwalin turns, facing me and strikes my stick with his.

The movement vibrates the stick sharply, "Ow!" I yipe.

"Copy my movements." He orders before attacking.

I struggle to keep up with Dwalin's pace, and my frustration becomes more and more evident on my face. Soon, I'm dripping with sweat. My muscles cramping, my breathing labored. And yet Dwalin doesn't stop.

His gruff voice sounds out, "Ye need to be quicker, lass. Ye can't be dawdlin' like a snail. Pick up the pace!"

I try to push myself harder, but I'm not making much progress. What did he expect?! I'm not a dwarf! I'm exhausted! My frustration starts showing in my moves, lacking power and accuracy. Finally, with one last strike, I drop the wooden 'sword' and collapse on my hands and knees.

I gasp for breath, feeling defeated, "I can't do it. I'm not strong enough."

I hear Dwalin come up to me and feel more than see him kneel down next to me, "It's not just about brute strength. It's about technique and precision. Ye need to move with purpose." his voice becomes softer, "Patience, lass. Ye can't be expectin' to be a master overnight. It takes time and practice. Keep at it."

A sense of hopeless overwhelms me as the grass beneath my tired and trembling hands starts blurring from my tears. I can't! I can't do it!

You have to.

I take a deep breath, blinking away my tears and letting my frustration turn into determination. I nod, bracing myself to continue training. Suck it up. The Valar sent you and there must be a reason for it.

"Ok. I won't give up. Let's keep going" My body has finally started to shoot endorphins into my system, because it thinks I'm dying. I start to feel slightly better.

There's a slight hint of respect in Dwalin's stern expression. "That's the spirit, lass. Forge yer strength through perseverance. We'll keep workin' on it, day by day. Off to bed with you now. That'll be enough for tonight."

I'm exhausted as the company rouses the next morning. But even though I'm not a morning person, it's become a habit after all this time. Especially when thirteen active dwarves don't bother to be quiet AT ALL in the morning. When you have loud voices all around you such as "Come and have breakfast, lass.", or "Get up, Pey, we'll be leaving in the hour", or "Peyton if you don't get up in ten seconds I swear by our maker Mahal, I will dump this entire water pouch all over you!"...it eventually grows on you. Like brothers. Like family.

Which reminds me of my own brothers! And as we walk along, I recount to the company many crazy and embarrassing pranks we've played on each other.

"But we always got REALLLY wild during sleepovers! My friends and I would stay up late until 3am in the morning and then paint my brothers' toenails with nailpolish...oh, it's a sparkly paint used for women's nails…anyways, when they had sleepovers they would sneak into my room and draw all over my face and hands and feet!" I laugh, walking along with the company, all of us sweating underneath the hot sun. "We could never play pranks on my sister though, because she was the baby of the family and was very sensitive." I roll my eyes and give a snort. "She'd always tattle on us whenever we did something like that, and our parents would get mad that we were 'picking' on her."

"Hah! That's nuthin! Why, me and Bifur once put lapis lazuli powder into oil and mixed it in Bombur's hair while he was asleep! He had green hair for a week he did!" Bofur jokes, grinning over at Bombur who shakes his head with a scowl at the memory. Bifur laughs and starts speaking in Khuzdul. Bofur nods and laughs, "Aye. Mother was furious with us."

I can't help but laugh. Just the thought of Bombur's ridiculous hairstyle with a green shade has me in stitches.

"That was a mean thing to do!" Dori protests, looking aghast. Ah, he's the sensitive one of the company. The Dwarves seem very particular about their hair though, so it I guess it would be very mean from their point of view.

As our laughter subsides, I steal a glance at the back of Thorin's head, the morning sunlight casting a glint on his dark hair. "What about you, Thorin? What sorts of pranks happened to you when you were younger?' I joke, trying to draw him into our conversation.

Thorin however continues to face forward, his focus fixed on the distant peaks of the Misty Mountains. "None," he responds, his past as guarded as the treasures of Erebor.

"Ha! I don't buy that for a second. You were a young prince once, without the responsibility to rule a kingdom. I bet Dis could remember something." I tease with a roll of my eyes.

Thorin continues walking ahead, but his posture hints at a trace of reminiscence or contemplation at my words. Ah, so he DOES remember something!

Before he can speak though, Bofur speaks up for him, "He's royalty, lass. No one would be brave enough to do such a thing."

"Ah, so that's why he's such a grump," I tease. "I guess I'll have to dye his hair myself. What was that dye you used? Lapis Laozye powder?"

The idea of dying Thorin's hair green is absolutely hilarious. I would never do it, of course, because I don't have a death wish and I love his hair... But he doesn't know that!

Thorin shoots a stern glance back at me before looking ahead once more. His voice is wry when he speaks though, "Wouldn't work. My hair is too dark."

I grin at the back of his head, hearing the smug banter in his voice.

Bombur adds to the conversation, adding clarification in case I didn't understand, "Lapis Lazuli is a blue powder. It made my hair green for a week because my hair is orange. But in his majesty's hair, it wouldn't take. Might give it a slightly dark blue sheen in the right light, but nothing drastic."

I laugh, "Dang it. I'll have to think of something else. Maybe I'll draw some glasses on his face while he's sleeping and bribe everyone to keep quiet."

The company responds as I predict with choked, quickly-covered up laughs and gasping, shocked snickers. I sigh in mock happiness and look up at the sky, "It's so convenient that Middle Earth doesn't have a lot of mirrors!"

We'd have to tell him before the Goblin Tunnels though. Can't have him facing the Goblin King with ink-glasses drawn around his eyes. Just the thought makes me snicker to myself.

"I wouldn't recommend that." Thorin is no longer teasing, and he has slightly slowed his steps so he can level me with a serious expression, "If I am asleep, I could mistake you for an enemy. Do not attempt it."

All is quiet for a somber awkward moment in the company, and I realize it could actually be dangerous for me to try and do something to him while asleep. I quickly scramble for something to try and bring the levity back, "That's ok. I'll think of something." I continue walking until somehow, he and I are walking beside one another.

Thorin sighs and shakes his head, resuming his stride even as he walks next to me now. "Woman, you are impossible." He rumbles.

"Dwarf, you need to lighten up." I grin back and lightly smack him on the shoulder. He tries to shoot me another stern look before shaking his head in frustratio, a quirk to his lips that the company can't see. I think I'm growing on him. I try again, "Ok, you don't remember pranks that happened to YOU, but as the oldest in the family; did you play any pranks on your younger brother or sister?"

"Aye, Pey!" Kili says eagerly, and I turn my head to look back at him, "He once told us that he and Uncle Frerin were visiting the animal yard where the livestock for the kingdom were raised. It's located on the north side of the Lonely Mountain and He and Frerin were looking at the pigs in their pen. Frerin started teasing the pigs, but then Uncle opened up the pig pen without telling Frerin, and one of the pigs started chasing him! Frerin had to hold the pig by the head as he ran to keep it from biting him, while they went around and around in a circle. Frerin was squealing louder than the pig, but Uncle couldn't help him because he was laughing too hard!" Kili and Fili started laughing, practically falling over themselves as they remember their uncle telling them the story.

For the first time that I've been here in Middle Earth and known him, I watch the side of Thorin Oakenshield's face as he laughs. His cheek presses crows feet up into the edges of his eyes, and his white teeth gleam as a huff of laughter bursts out of his chest unbiddenly, the memory an obviously cherished one. He can't help but glance back at his sister's sons who are still laughing, his eyes sparkling as the three of them relive the memory together of a warmer, happier time for just a moment.

"That was so mean!" I laugh at the image of a younger Thorin playing a prank on his kid brother. "I love it!"

His eyes turn to me, happy crows feet still at the edges and I get to catch a glimpse of his full smiling face. Something grows inside my chest, a warm glow from inside that squeezes my heart. Who is this person before me? I've never met him before.

We're just friends! Friends laugh. And feel warm fuzzies while looking into each other's eyes. There's nothing else happening. He's a really really good friend!

I smile back at him. And the warm feeling grows.

The grueling days go on, turning warmer and warmer. Eventually, our coats become redundant baggage, tucked away in our backpacks, serving only as makeshift pillows at night. As the weeks pass I continue my sword training, I mean stick training, with Dwalin offering guidance and corrections as I persist, my progress very slow. Slow but steady. Determination fuels my ambition to grasp even a semblance of competence with the stick sword especially when Dwalin has Kili and Fili help spar with me as well. I can't let them down.

Walking to Erebor is not all bad though, I think to myself, as I now find it easier to interact with the company than before while riding ponies. The ponies would ride in a straight line and I could only talk to the one person in front or behind me, or yell loudly so everyone could hear. As we walk together though, it's easier to hear one another instead of the clopping of horse hooves.

Thorin, who has usually led at the front of the company, now has Balin lead the way. He and I often find ourselves walking next to each other now, and I do my best to talk and joke with him to make him feel included.

And all the while, every night, the Necromancer shows up.

I don't understand why, and I fearfully wonder if by looking into mirror, Galadriel somehow unleashed something in my mind without meaning to.

Eventually it gets to the point where I find myself at the castle and immediately hurry to find the nearest cliff, only to then throw myself off to wake up. Sometimes I make it before he can locate my presence, and other times I have to talk with him as he blocks my exit and I do my best not to reveal any information. I'll wake up with a gasp from the jump-scare and my body is racked with shivers and I shake for a little bit before going back to sleep. I'm lucky though, because after the initial dream I don't dream of him again for the rest of the night. Otherwise, the lack of sleep wouldn't allow me to function during the long grueling journey. Thorin and the others have started to notice my odd habit of gasping awake at night though.

After a particularly nasty night where the Necromancer showed me a strange hairy gollum creature that had lost his mind, I am trudging along, lost in my thoughts the next day. I ponder the strangeness of my situation of dreamwalking. The Necromancer is really starting to piss me off from my nightly conversations with him, and my fear of him slowly has started to ebb away. He can't hurt me, besides the creepy feeling the seems to seep into my skin when I'm around him.

"Any advice for what's ahead?" Thorin queries and I look at him, surprised by the concern I see on his face. He must think my uncommon quietness today means that something bad is going to happen. Glancing around at our attentive company, I lean closer to him, speaking softly to avoid prying ears. This prompts him to lean-in to catch my words, piquing the curiosity of everyone.

"No, nothing until the Misty Mountains. It's going to be nerve-wracking, of course," I murmur. "But everything will eventually turn out fine, thanks to... Gandalf?!" I exclaim in joy at the sight of the grey wizard appearing on our trail. "You're finally here!"

Thank goodness!

"Of course I am. Where else would I be?" Gandalf raises an eyebrow with a smile. Cheeky old man.

Relieved, I beam. "Where were you? You were supposed to travel with us from Rivendell!"

I sense the palpable relief within the group at Gandalf's return, all of us grateful to have our resident wizard back with us. We crowd around him and happy greetings and questions are offered by the dwarves, Dori in particular.

He nods to us all, "I refrained from joining you to avoid drawing suspicion to the company." Turning to Thorin, he assures, "Elrond isn't following you. We can proceed with the quest unhindered."

Thorin, both in a satisfied and dangerous tone, gives him a look, "He wouldn't have been able to stop us regardless."

I frown, "Why would Elrond try to stop us?"

Gandalf's frown deepens, "Saruman summoned the White Council after learning of the dwarves' quest. He was going to call an end to it."

"Wait, wait, wait... Saruman was in Rivendell?!" My mind reels, surprised by Saruman's knowledge. That explains Galadriel's presence! "And he called the White Council together? And you didn't even TELL me?!" I furrow my brows deeply at him. "You said you were too busy to call them!"

They could have found a solution to send me home! Probably not though, since I pretty much have met the White Counse. Gandalf, Elrond, AND Galadriel have all told me in one way or another that the Valar are the only ones that can send me home. And Galadriel's vision in the mirror made it very clear - Thorin and his nephews need me to change their fate.

Gandalf, however adopts a gruff and evasive stance, as he realizes his blunder. He deflects blame with a show of exasperation, stating that he IS too busy to remember such things. It's his typical response when he knows he's at fault but refuses to admit it.

"Gandalf," I growl at him. Despite my frustration with this sneaky wizard, I'm glad he's back. I need to ask him about what I saw in Galadriel's mirror.

Sooner rather than later, Thorin has us all continue our 'walking holiday' since we haven't walked the full allotted hours yet. Gandalf has no trouble falling in pace with us with his long legs, and proceeds to tell us about what he's been up to the past few days.

"I hope you gave Elrond my regards, " I say, walking beside him with a worried look, "I feel bad for leaving without even saying goodbye. I would have gotten a goodbye message to him if I could." I never did get him to read my sword and tell me its name.

Gandalf smiles gently even as the other dwarves scoff in annoyance, "He knows, my dear. He knows. I do wish to speak to you about Rivendell, though..." Pulling me to the side, he allows the others to walk ahead of us, clearly showing that he wishes to speak with me alone.

"Galadriel told me she glimpsed some troubling aspects of your future," Gandalf leans in, his lined face drawing closer. "She saw more than just the pool's visions."

"Yeah, she spaced out and looked like she was in a trance. She saw how I can rescue Thorin," I frown, her tired and concerned face flooding my memory. "She said something about using my powers and giving a sacrifice. But I'm still trying to figure it out. It's like a riddle. What is a 'child of light'?" I look at him, hoping for some clarity.

"Someone aligned with goodness, Peyton. Not a child of darkness. It's one or the other." He says as we continue walking.

I grimace, "Gandalf, the world isn't all bad or all good. It's not black and white."

Gandalf shrugs, "True. But when you strip away the layers, at the heart of the matter, it is either good or evil."

"Is consuming soup good or evil?" I arch an eyebrow, attempting to show him the absurdity of his argument. Life's taught me that there's a spectrum of color, not just black and white.

"It depends on the soup," he smiles cryptically, "And after that, how much of it you consume."

I scoff, "That's preposterous, Gandalf. There's no such thing as an 'evil' soup."

"Oh? So, consuming human soup wouldn't be evil?"

My jaw drops. Where on Middle Earth did THAT come from?

"But...but people change!" I interject, upset, and suddenly confused. "Forget the soup example…..If we're talking about people then they aren't black and white. We have bad days and good days! Sometimes people will listen to the light, and sometimes they'll listen to the darkness!"

"What a wishy-washy way of existence," Gandalf scoffs gruffly to himself, before leveling me with a look, "Then I hope, for the line of Durin's sake, that the day they need you is a day you are listening to the light, Peyton."

That night, after getting my butt handed to me by Dwalin, and a very intense conversation with Gandalf about him needing to save us from the Goblins ("But why must they be captured? Why not take an alternate route?", "I can't tell you, Gandalf! Just trust that it's crucial. Perhaps the most crucial aspect of this journey, if I'm honest. Just show up and save us or we're dead.") the company at last gather around the fireplace over a hot rabbit stew that's savory and filling. I feel more awake than usual, due to Gandalf being here. So instead of immediately going to bed after eating, I remain sitting on the ground against a log and listen to the company tell stories, sing songs, and joke as they always do.

I can feel myself getting stronger. My body is being pushed to the MAX every single day. Walking all day to then practice dueling for 30 mins to an hour each night would be impossible if not for Bombur's nutritious meals. Who knew that a boiled potato, a slice of carrot, or a chunk of meat could taste sooooooo good after walking all day!?

Bombur then sings a story about his Dwarven love and I suddenly, almost offhandedly, notice that none of the songs I've heard the company sing so far are about cheating. Like, at all! No revenge songs or 'I'm better off without you' songs. This is a huge genre in my world.

When I inquire about it after Bombur is done, the company all react with horror, unable to fathom the concept.

"And betray your ONE?! That's abominable!" Gloin bellows in outrage, with sounds of the same and nods from the others.

"A One? What's a One?" I ask curiously, intrigued by their use of the term.

There's a pregnant pause as the dwarves look at one another, having an unspoken communication.

I raise my eyebrows with an excited grin, sensing something juicy by their expressions. "What?" When they still silently debate with one another on who should speak, I laugh, "Okay, now you've GOT to tell me! It's something big isn't it? Come on, what is it? What's a One?"

"Your One is the person you are destined to be with, lass," Dwalin explains in a gruff droll voice, seeming to be the most nonchalant one about the whole thing.

Balin then speaks up, shooting his brother a disappointed look as if his younger brother isn't giving the subject it's due respect. "It's the other half of a dwarf's soul, lass." He looks at me, his eyes filled with reverence.

I raise an eyebrow, "Soul? As in a soulmate? That's silly," I shake my head with a confused smile, unable to fully grasp the concept.

Balin's expression turns slightly offended as he responds, "Why, Miss Peyton? Having a One is a sacred thing! It is a gift from our maker, Mahal himself!"

I can tell by his voice that it means a great deal to him, and perhaps even to all of them, so it's a clear sign that I need to tread carefully on this subject. I don't want to offend their culture.

"It's a beautiful concept, Balin, no one can deny that." I pause and try to find the words to convey what I mean, "But, it just doesn't seem... realistic? I mean...let's think about it logically...Nori has mentioned once that there are fewer female dwarves than male dwarves, correct?"

"Aye?" He responds, still frowning.

"So...mathematically, that means that most dwarves will never find their One! And Nori said that those dwarves dedicate their entire life to their craft."

"Aye, Lass. That's why I said it's a gift." Balin nods. "Not every dwarf will find their One in this life."

"Why not? Are there MORE female dwarves in the next life or something? That's, no offense, a little depressing, for lack of a better term. I mean, dwarves need to continue their race and if there are fewer females then males, that means that your race is dwindling. Especially from the wars that occur with the orcs and goblins."

"Are there more females than males in your world then?" Bombur asks, curious.

"No, it's about the same, I'd say." I muse aloud, thinking. "About 50/50, surprisingly."

"So, all humans in your world marry their soulmate?" Dori asks me, eyes wide.

I frown and shake my head, confused at why they aren't getting it, "No? Like I said before, it's silly. I don't believe in soulmates."

With more than 50% of marriages ending in divorce, it's hard to. My parents do give me hope for a happy marriage though, but it'll take work. It's unrealistic to believe in soulmates.

The company gasp in shock, finally understanding what I mean. I give an amused grimace, worried about crossing a line but also not able to help but feel amused at their silly expressions.

"Oh, come on you guys!" I groan, trying to get the company to stop looking at me like I chopped their beards off, "I believe that you can make any relationship work if there is compatibility, attraction, connection, similar interests, and communication! Oh! And mutual respect. Very important." I list these things off on my fingers as I go along.

The dwarves are still shaking their heads at me and tutting. Kili and Fili look at me like I kicked their puppy, so I roll my eyes, "Ok, fine. How do DWARVES know if someone is their 'One' or not?" I fold my arms and raise an eyebrow challengingly. This ought to be good.

Gloin speaks up, clearly reciting something in his thick brogue, "Your One is not someone who comes into yer life peacefully. It'll be someone who makes ye question things. They won't sugarcoat the truth and tell ye what ye want to hear."

Balin speaks, his eyes on the burning fire in the middle of the group, "Your One will come into your life and set things on fire. It will be someone who changes your reality, someone that marks a before and after in your life. It is not the being that you have idealized but an ordinary person who manages to revolutionize your world."

My heart stirs at his words and I cock my head to the side, intrigued.

Bombur nods as well, "Your One will come into your life and help you grow. They will come into your life and challenge you in positive ways. They will come into your life and help motivate you. And they will also come into your life and help pull you out of your comfort zones."

After that beautiful poetry, I blink and then let out an amused huff, "Well, that doesn't help me much! That applies to A LOT of people in my life. Based on those qualifications alone... heck, even GANDALF could be my soulmate!"

I look over at Gandalf with a playful glare, "I've got my eyes on you, dude." I point two fingers at my eyes and then back at him.

Gandalf humphs in amusement and shakes his head at me, eyes twinkling.

The company laugh and scoff, my joke easing the serious mood a little. "Hah! Gandalf?!", "That's a laugh! See? I'm laughing!" "Psh, Lass.", "Gandalf?", "What?!"

"Are you attracted to Gandalf, Miss Peyton?" Balin asks me, also amused.

A snort comes from my nose before I can cover my mouth, but to no avail. A series of laughs and undignified snorts come from my mouth and nose. The idea of being attracted to Gandalf is...well, it's ludicrous and the company join in the laughter.

"I guess, Pey here is into older men!" Nori jokes with a mean smile and a quirk of his eyebrow.

I guaff at him as the company laughs, before shaking my head and chuckle, "Ok, ok, settle down guys. So, my 'One 'would need to be someone who makes my life hell AND I'm attracted to him?"

I know this is about dwarves finding their Ones, but I can't help but apply the same standards to me to show them the inconsistency. If anyone notices, they don't say anything.

Bofur barks a laugh, "Pretty much, Lass!"

I chuckle at the absurdity of it all and shake my head at the sky. But I consider their words. The idea of a One is still fantastical to me, but I can see the sincerity in Balin's, Gloin's, and Bombur's eyes. Perhaps there is something beautiful in the belief of finding one's true match, someone who compliments and completes them in every way. It's a notion that I've never truly entertained before, seeming a bit of a ridiculous way to view relationships...but in this world of magic and adventure, maybe such extraordinary connections DO exist? For Dwarves, of course. Not humans.

"Anyone in particular catch your attention, Peyton?"

I glance over to see Nori still grinning at me. He looks like he knows something I don't know.

I raise an eyebrow and narrow my eyes in a joking glare, unable to keep the smile off my face, "Definitely not you, Nori. It was NOT a kiss!"

Hushed chuckles again from the company, but Nori just smirks back at me, not seeming offended in the slightest. Neither does he appear deterred from his strange train of thought. "Oh, I know. But are you saying that not a SINGLE other person comes to mind?" I blink at him, frowning. Then it hits me.

Don't glance at Thorin. Do NOT. glance. at. Thorin. Crap. I glanced at him.

I quickly glance at everyone else as well to try and cover my mistake.

"Nope. Not a single person comes to mind..." I look back to Gandalf with a grin, "Except dear old Gandalf here, like I said. I loooove you, buuuuddy!"

"Away with you." Gandalf waves his pipe in consternation at me and my childishness.

Some of the group snicker, but Nori shoots me an unamused look. He's the most observant one of the company, due to the fact that he's usually silent and sneaky. Ever since saving his life, he has unfortunately been more attentive to my words and actions than before. I've caught him watching me more than once as Thorin and I laugh or talk together. And when I think I'm being discreet when I watch Thorin interact with the company, Nori's shrewd glances have me quickly looking away.

Before, I didn't think anything of it. But now, I'm worried. Does he know my feelings for Thorin go beyond the simple friendship I'm attempting to portray?

"You're not going to mention Bilbo?" A deep baritone voice asks. A voice that, up until now, has been completely silent.

I freeze before plastering an amused smile on my face as I turn to look at Thorin, my stomach doing summersaults. He's sitting against a fallen log across the way, where I know he has been this entire time. I'm always aware of where he is, unfortunatly.

"Bilbo and I get along like 'peas and carrots'." I shake my head in mock severity and sigh sadly. "But he's my brother-in-law twice removed! It's a forbidden love."

Bilbo shakes his head frantically at the confused looks the company gives him, "No, no. She's joking gents! She likes to tease!" He looks worried. "There's nothing forbidden going on! The brother-in-law thing is a running joke we have between us. We're very good friends. Only!"

"Ouch, Bilbo! Just stick a knife in my heart why don't ya?" I give him a playfully wounded look, pressing my hand to my bosom. Why is he protesting so much? Everyone knows we're just friends!

Bilbo lets out an amused laugh at my antics, but then seems to remember himself and is worried once more. He gestures at the company, "Again! She's teasing!"

I roll my eyes at him, "They know, Bilbo."

Of course they know I'm teasing! Psh. Way to make it awkward, buddy. As the conversation continues on around me, a thought comes to my mind and I turn to ask Balin.

"But, back to the One thing….what if you get sick and die?" I ask, my voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "Is your One destined to go on without you? All alone for another two hundred, or however long, years? That sounds so depressing!"

Balin's eyes soften, understanding the weight of my question. "Aye, that is a difficult fate. But the joy that comes from having a One is beyond anything imaginable. It is a bond that transcends time and even death."

I contemplate Balin's words, my mind grappling with the concept of having a One, a destined partner. The idea of finding such a profound connection with someone is both intriguing and daunting. I remember Galadriel's words; that my fear of emotional intimacy hinders my happiness. Even if I don't believe in a "One", I need to allow my heart to open up if I'll ever find SOMEone.

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I inquire further. "Do you have a 'One', Balin?"

He nods, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "Yes, I do. It was a long time ago."

The way he says it makes me pause, sensing a deeper meaning behind his words. "Sooo, you do have a One? Or you did have a One?"

Balin's gaze meets mine, unwavering. "I do still have a One, Miss Peyton. She's waiting for me in the grand halls of Mandos."

"Oh! Ok, uh, that's nice! So what did she say when you told her you were coming on the quest?"

Balin's expression turns solemn. "The halls of Mandos are where souls go after this life to await their next, lass."

My head spins with the realization, "So, she did die then?"

Balin gives me a gentle smile. "As I said before, it is a bond that transcends death. Death is not the end, Miss Peyton. If your One dies, you will still be with them after this life. It is a bond that continues past the mortal realm."

I pause at that, falling silent. That's actually really beautiful to think about. "Wow, Balin...I never pegged you as a romantic."

Balin gives me a stern look, as if I should know better, but I catch the joking twinkle in his eyes. He then heaves a chuckle, "I may be old and grey now, Lass, but I was quite the Dwarf back in my day. My Zundush was Betrila and she was the most beautiful dwarf in all the world of Arda."

Gloin scoffs, "So says you! No Darrow can compare to me Muirva."

"Your wife?" I hazard a guess.

Gloin's eyes brighten, "Aye. Let me show you a picture of her!"

The dwarves all groan, as if this is something he does all the time, but this is news to me. I haven't heard much about her. I come over and sit next to him on the log. He opens up a portrait to show me a drawing of a woman with a thin beard.

"She's beautiful." I smile politely and hand the picture back

.

He doesn't accept it but rather enthusiastically flips a glass inside and there's another picture, one of a little boy who also sports a beard.

My eyes widen, and I grin at the photo in amazement, "Is this your son?!"

I can't believe it!

"Aye, my wee lad! Gimli." Gloin puffs out like the proud parent he is, pleased at my excited reaction. "He was wantin' to come on the quest too, but I'm not a pushover like Thorin is. I wouldn' let 'im come." He shoots Thorin a look.

Thorin comes as close to an eye roll as I've ever seen him as he shakes his head, continuing to eat his stew. It's obviously something that has been discussed so much that it's obsolete now. I can only imagine all the drama that occurred in the Blue Mountains when Thorin asked those with a willing heart to come on his quest and his nephews volunteered.

Bringing the subject back to its original line, I ask, "So, you knew she was your 'One' because she came into your life and wreaked havoc?"

Gloin burst into loud belly laughter, and nods enthusiastically, "Aye. Turned my whole world upside down, she did."

"Well, I'm glad it all worked out." I shake my head and laugh. What a strange custom. Despite myself...their words have stirred something within me, allowing me to appreciate the beauty in the concept of having a One.

Gloin smiles and nods, his voice gentle and sincere, "It always does."

End of Chapter

Some people will say that the "One aspect" of Dwarven culture is a cop out when writing a relationship. And I say...yeah, kinda? Lol! XD But I always have intended to include that very ambiguous and difficult element into my story. In a way, each fanfiction that has Thorin Oakenshield connected with an OC from the modern world HAS to have a sort of supernatural "destiny" reason for it because why ELSE would they land in Arda and fall in love with him?

Of course, relationships have to grow and develop like a normal one would. Perhaps the dwarves feel that it's a "soul" thing because once they've dedicate their hearts to someone, they can't imagine dedicating it to anyone else? They devote themselves entirely and there's only ONE, which is why they call them a One. So, perhaps both Peyton AND Balin are right? Once you work hard at a relationship with mutual respect and it grows into love, that person BECOMES your soulmate rather than them being destined to be your soulmate to begin with? Jk. Dunno. XD

Anyways, this chapter was difficult to put out. Between being sick for a week, and then my son and hubby being sick, as well as starting at a new location at my job, as well as house hunting (only to discover that we can't afford a house and we're crazy for even considering it, but we still really really want one...) I've had to go back and edit/smooth out this chapter. Thanks for reading!