Hey guys! Took me a while but I'm back. 100 reviews!!! Hey, look ma! I made it! Jk.

Thank you to my recent guest reviewers for getting me to that amount! Next time, be sure to login so I can message you my thanks, lol! I'm so grateful for everyone's kind words! I'm also thankful for the negative critiques! I don't mind, and I appreciate the feedback on how to improve my story. As the Joker from "the Joker Blogs" once said: "Art is all about an emotional response." So whether it's joy, sadness, disgust, anger, curiosity; if someone takes the time to review then I've done my job as a writer even if it was a negative review! Lol.

It's show time!

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"I have completely fallen for you. Everything you do, everything you say, everything you are. You're my first thought in the morning, you're my last thought before I fall asleep, and you're almost every thought in between." -Unknown.

~Chapter 22~

Summer Nights

Five minutes of laughing and teasing later, nature's call becomes urgent. I need to go to the bathroom, like, immediately. Excusing myself, I dart into the dark woods, searching for a secluded tree.

I find the perfect hideout when I suddenly remember that Thorin and Gandalf are somewhere out here. I pause, straining my ears for any whispers, curious about what they could be discussing while also worried that I might accidentally stumble upon them with my pants down. Hearing nothing, I quickly finish up and try to navigate my way back to camp with the scant light that remains. I've ventured further than usual this time.

It's so interesting, I think to myself as I walk, how Thorin and my relationship has grown. There's such a crazy pull toward him! He's always on my radar, even when I'm not looking at him. I'm always aware of where he is, tracking him by sound. His footsteps, his voice, the flash of his dark hair in my peripheral vision, all draw my attention towards him. The idea of "the One" that the dwarves believe in comes to mind, but I quickly dismiss it.

Sounds great in songs and stories, but I gave up the idea of finding "the One" as a fantasy a long time ago. I'm almost 29 in a couple more years! I'd be lucky to find SOMEone at this point. Besides, It's absurd and somewhat narcissistic to think that I could be soulmates with a fictional dwarf from a fairytale.

Yet, here I am, impossibly in a fairytale.

I shake my head at myself. Thorin's become my safety net, basically. That's all it is. I mean, who WOULDN'T fall head over heels for someone like him? He's been there to protect me through every near-death experience I've had in Middle Earth, besides almost being run over by Timothy's cart.

I think of his strong arms, his stronger will, the crinkles near his eyes that melt me when he smiles, his teasing, and his terrible attempts at jokes. Especially the peace I feel around him. He doesn't talk to hear himself talk or to try and impress me. When he speaks, it's logical and thought out and intelligent. He's a great conversationalist during the times that I'm able to open him up. And the sense of peace and safety he exudes is like a warm blanket, it makes me want to always be near him.

I sigh with longing and then frown with annoyance at myself. This is pathetic. I'm pathetic.

Imagine landing in Middle Earth, an impossible feat in itself, and what do I do? Develop a hopeless crush on the most unattainable dwarf around! I'm so-

"Ridiculous. How can you even suggest such a thing?" Thorin's low voice startles me from my thoughts and I realize I have indeed stumbled right onto their intense tête-à-tête. It's surprising to me that they missed my clunky approach since I haven't tried at all to be quiet. Must be a very heated discussion. I pause and listen, curious.

"A human as the Queen Under the Mountain? My Grandfather would roll in his grave to hear of it." Thorin grumbles, staring off into the distance. "Most would never accept her. They would..." He trails off, but I catch the tension in his stance, even though he is faced away from me.

My eyes widen, and my insides feel eloctrocuted with horror. They're talking about me?! And about him? As in…me with him?!?! WHATAREyOUdOING GANDALF?!? NOOOOOO!

"Your feelings are the only ones that should hold weight, Thorin," Gandalf insists with sincerity. "Why should the ideas of others concern you in such a personal matter?"

Thorin whips around, his figure barely discernible amidst the foliage. "It does not matter what I do and do not feel, " He says the word through his teeth as if it is a curse and disgusts him, his tone resolute, "That is irrelevant. The notion is an impossibility, Gandalf!"

My throat prickles, feeling scratchy and tight and I clench my teeth, trying to rein in the storm inside. I have the urge to burst out of the trees and start beating on Gandalf with his own staff!

Thorin and I had something special! We were bonding, laughing, relishing each other's company. Sure, it wasn't flawless, and sure there was a barely perceptible charge in the air when I looked at him for too long but...but...why did Gandalf have to interfere? I thought he only followed the will of the Valar?!? Now our friendship is ruined!

"I have known elves and humans to fall in love, why could a dwarf and human not do the same?" He asks gruffly.

Thorin's voice cuts through the air, raw and exasperated. "And what kind of love would that be, Gandalf? A tragic one! A human lives a quarter of a dwarf's lifespan and a mere fraction of an elf's. I am 195 years old!"

I brace myself against a tree trunk, fighting the tightness in my chest and the burning in my eyes. 1/62 of an elf's life to be exact, I quickly do the math to myself.

"Well, it simply means that both of you have the same amount of time left," Gandalf replies, his voice laced with a deceptively innocent smile.

Thorin shakes his head, his gaze averted from the grey wizard. "It can never be," he mutters, his low voice barely above a rumble.

He's right.

Of course he's right, I chastise myself, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill. How could a 200-year-old dwarf king possibly fall in love with a twenty-seven-year-old human? The whole idea is so ludicrous it sounds like a bad joke. But, for some reason, knowing that doesn't make it hurt any less. I swallow hard, trying to push down the painful lump in my throat.

This entire trip, I'd always convinced myself that it was ok that Thorin and I are just friends. But now, as a wave of crushing sadness washes over me, sucking me into its dark depths, I realize that the impossible desire to be more had snuck into my heart without any conscious effort on my part. Planted, without my say-so, somewhere along the trail. Perhaps that seed was planted even before that, such as in my childhood as I reclaimed Erebor with a stick sword.

"It sounds to me like you are attempting to persuade yourself more than anyone else," Gandalf observes, a hint of sternness in his voice. "If it is indeed love, then it is a battle you must wage! Persuade her to remain!"

"No." Thorin replies, his voice suddenly devoid of emotion, as if he was hollow, "She has a family waiting for her. I will not."

Gandalf continues to mumble something inaudible to him, but I've heard enough. I turn away, covering my mouth to stifle any pained sounds from escaping as I quietly retreat back into the trees.

I'm angry, disappointed, and hurt, but mostly... I feel ashamed. Ashamed of my own naïveté and immaturity in letting myself develop feelings for THE Thorin Oakenshield. Like a foolish child with an impossible crush. The King Under the Mountain with a mere nobody from Nevada? Why did I do this to myself?

Honestly, I've never expected anything. Truly! I just... genuinely like him. I just can't help myself! I like him for who he is, and not for anything he can potentially give me.

The worst part is I've never felt this way about anyone on Earth. The dates, the guys I've fancied, even my two past boyfriends—none of them hold a candle to this one dwarf. Thorin's like a magnetic force, and I'm helpless against it, unable to resist.

I've been foolish to hope, against all odds and despite our glaring differences, and despite the VERY IMPORTANT fact that I will be leaving, that maybe, just maybe, he feels something for me like I do for him.

There were moments when I thought I wasn't alone in my admiration. Moments when we'd glance at each other and share an unspoken amusement at something immature or silly that one of his nephews would say or something the company would do. When playing pranks on the company, I'd notice him watching me and I'd let him in on the joke with holding a finger to my lips and sending him a wink. He would unwillingly smile and I would feel my heart beat just a little faster.

I thought... but I must have misread him entirely. Thorin, he's just one of those genuinely great guys—the type who treats any woman the way he treats me. He's good. That's all there is to it. I try to stay quiet, but my body feels heavy, like someone's poured a load of wet sand into it.

It wasn't a logical hope, I'm well aware. But like Penny from the Big Bang Theory once said: the heart wants what the heart wants.

"You're going home, remember?" I mutter to myself, trying to steady my emotions. "Family's waiting for you, back home." It's better this way, truly. Even if, by some incredulous twist, he had reciprocated feelings, it's not like we could ever act on them. And that would be so much worse, right? Just as Thorin said, it can never be.

Tears blur my vision, and my heart aches, but I clench my jaw, forcing myself to breathe evenly and focus on where I put my feet so I don't trip. I can't afford to return to camp in this state, but the dangers lurking in the darkness make it too risky to stay away. But I also can't risk anyone noticing that I'm upset. If word somehow gets back to Thorin, he might realize I overheard his conversation. That's the last thing I need. I don't want him to feel obligated to explain or apologize. I have to salvage what little dignity I have left. And the next time I see Gandalf, his stupid grey hat is going straight into the river.

As I wrestle with my emotions, voices cut through the silence of the forest. I see Bifur arguing heatedly with Fili through the trees in Khuzdul. I pause at the edge of the camp, taking a deep breath and wiping at my eyes until they're dry.

Ok Peyton… Act. Natural.

I walk into camp, making sure I'm loud enough that the company knows it's just me and not an intruder.

"Peyton! There you are!" Fili's voice rings out.

I freeze, a wave of panic washing over me.

"Tell Bifur it was you who borrowed his whittling knife last! I used it before you!" Fili's voice carries over from where he's locked in a dispute with Bifur.

"Uhhh," I stammer, forcing my body to move and my mind to focus on the issue at hand. I had noticed Bofur whittling once and I'd sat beside him, wanting to know him a little better. I couldn't understand his words, but I read his body language, guessing at what he was saying while Bofur helped translate. He had been a toy maker before Smaug came and was whittling a bird toy. After that, I began whittling with him sometimes. "But, didn't you use it to scrape off a tiny edge after me?" I ask, grateful for the distraction.

"No! It wasn't me!" Fili protests.

"Oh, wait a second!" I snap my fingers as my memory finally kicks into gear. "I think it might have been Kili!"

Bifur grumbles something that sounds like a string of curses in Kuzdul, stomping off to address his grievance with Kili. Fili rolls his eyes, flashing me a relieved grin. I offer a small smile in return.

However, Fili's expression shifts as he studies me, "Hey... are you alright?"

Shoot. Not natural enough!

Quickly, I feign a yawn, exaggeratingly raising my arms above my head. "Oh, I'm just exhausted, you know? So many horrible songs today... my eyes feel sore. I'm beat. Goodnight!"

Ignoring Fili's concerned expression, I head to my sleeping bag, conveniently placed near his, Kili's and Dwalin's spots. I'm not sure exactly how this little arrangement came about, but it began after Fili and Kili started training with me so we naturally just began sleeping in the same vicinity. Thorin always sleeps nearby and he is one of the few dwarves in the group who doesn't snore, as I discovered the night of my hypothermia.

Grabbing my bag, I move to the opposite side of the camp, near Bifur's pack, ensuring I'll be away from where Gandalf and Thorin will return. I grab Oin's bag next to Bifur's and toss it gently to where mine had been by Kili's and Thorin's.

I can feel eyes on me, and I glance up to see Nori observing me as I unroll my bag. His head tilts in a silent question. I muster up a smile and give him a friendly wave, but it feels so forced that I'm certain he can see right through it. I wish he wasn't so perceptive. Can't he just mind his own business?

Bifur has the loudest snore in the company so I know it might look a little odd, but I need to make sure no one will overhear if I cry tonight. The mere thought threatens to overwhelm me, and I focus on taking deep, calming breaths as I unroll my bag.

I concentrate on the small tasks at hand, desperate to distract my mind from the tears threatening to spill. Inhale. Exhale. I undo the bindings on my bedroll, smoothing out the creases and clearing away any pebbles.

"Off to bed, lass?" I hear Bofur ask.

I don't turn to face him, making my voice sound cheery, "Yep! When my eyes start to hurt, that's when I know I'm more exhausted than usual."

"Ok, Pey. Sweet dreams."

"You too," I lay down on my side, facing the Misty Mountains, and allow the tears to finally escape. In another day or two, we'll be trekking through the mountains and navigating Goblin Town. I snuggle deeper into my sleeping bag, stewing in frustration over my naive heart.

The voices of the dwarves filter through the thick fabric as they tease Bilbo, trying to make him guess who has his missing silverware. I'm betting that Nori snuck them. Bilbo had brought five of his silver spoons at the beginning of the quest, due to the incorrect assumption that everyone ate 5 meals a day. His spoons have since then been at the bottom of his pack, much like my shirt in mine. Suddenly, Bilbo's frustrated hiss sounds out right by where I lay.

"Gandalf! I would have a word with you!", Bilbo complains quietly, and I stiffen automatically realizing that Gandalf and Thorin arrived without me noticing it.

I close my eyes and try to give the illusion of rest. Relax the shoulders, slow the breath. But my body doesn't want to obey me, and my shoulders refuse to relax no matter how hard I try.

"Some of the company have taken my spoons I brought on this quest!" Bilbo whispers frustratedly, close enough for me to hear. "And they won't tell me who has them! No matter how many times I guess!"

"What do you expect me to do, Master Baggins?" Gandalf replies curtly. "I can't fight your battles. Stand up for yourself if you want respect! Besides, you only need one spoon, not five. And no, don't ask Miss Peyton for help. You must assert yourself!

Cracking my eyes open, the silhouettes of dark trees glowing from the light of the campfire greet me since I'm still facing away from camp.

Without consciously deciding to, I block out their conversation and listen for the rich baritone voice I've become accostumed to tracking. Yet, it doesn't come. Either Thorin hasn't returned with Gandalf, or he's in a foul mood, causing everyone to avoid him except for offering respectful nods.

For what seems an eternity, I gaze into the darkness, listening as the company settles into their sleeping arrangements. Finally, after things seem to have settled down, I roll onto my back, looking up at the stars.

Middle Earth has some of the most breathtaking sights I have ever laid eyes on- lush green valleys, cool silver streams, giant blue lakes, snow-capped mountains, and forests whose leaves sparkle like emeralds in the sunlight. The Shire was lovely and The Valley of Imladris was heavenly.

But, my most favorite sight of all, is the one I get to witness every night that there aren't any clouds.

The stars.

They twinkle like bright, sparkling diamonds clustered together. A dazzling array of light that seems to dance across the night sky in colorful nebulas of gas. The fact that there is zero electricity in Middle Earth makes the night sky so bright that there's no need for a flashIight. I can see orange, purple, blue, light blue, and pink swirls in the sky. Not a patch of darkness exists; even the farthest reaches of space appear sprinkled with faint white dust. Shooting stars streak across the sky regularly, a nightly spectacle that enthralls me.

I wish I could reach up and cup those clouds of glitter in my hands, only to blow on them to watch them scatter and swirl back up across the black canvas of space.

Before coming here, I was shaped by a diet of instant ramen and peanut butter sandwiches, an unlikely hero for this epic quest. But Galadriel spoke of a power within me, a power inherent to all 'children of light.' I have to believe in myself, to find the strength to face Azog. But what is this power?

"It must be a sacrifice of your all, driven by the greatest of powers...All Children of the Light have the 'greatest of power." Her words echo in my mind.

But what is the "greatest" power? I always thought a black hole was the strongest force, stronger than even light. But maybe, "greatest" doesn't necessarily mean physical strength? What is this mysterious force that I need to tap into? It's the key to everything, I'm sure of it..

A sacrifice of your all…..the greatest of powers...the greatest of powers.

WHAT IS IT?!

Lord Elrond's words come back to me, about light being sacred and residing within each of us. It's a beautiful notion, one I wish were true. What is that light though?

Staring up at these stars, clearer and brighter than any in my polluted world, makes me feel small…and yet, it makes me feel connected to that greatness. Like I'm in the presence of something so ancient, so vast and enormous that I can't possibly begin to comprehend even a portion of it. It makes me feel like I'm part of that 'more' I sensed during Thorin's song before the quest or, at the very least, that I've come closer to it.

The sight fills me with peace and keeps me from plunging down into a black pit of hopelessness and inadequacy. I take a deep, soothing breath. Tomorrow will be a new day. I can start fresh. Everything will be ok. I can still save the line of Durin.

The sun bathes the grass in brilliant green hues, warming me in my short-sleeved shirt. Thorin, too, dons something lighter—his royal blue long-sleeved shirt. We're sitting very close together on a grassy river bank, alone, which is strange and I briefly look around wondering where the company is.

"Amralime," he whispers softly, his familiar large hand finding mine.

I look at his face, feeling warmth and joy spread through my heart and body as brilliant as the sun overhead. "Amrali-what?" I give a confused smile, tilting my head with affection, "What does that mean?"

In response, he delicately brushes his hand at something on the side of my face. I reach up, finding a braid where none existed before. Confusion clouds my thoughts, but before I can question him, he vanishes, and I'm suddenly back in the desolate city.

I sigh. "Not even a moment's peace, eh Necromancer?"

Fear prickles my senses, a familiar sensation that is now laced with a bitter taste of irritation. I don't want to be here! With a growl of frustration, I break into a sprint, my eyes scanning the desolate fortress for a cliff to leap from. An echo of drumbeats sends a chill down my spine, a haunting reminder of the Moria incident from the Fellowship of the Ring. As I race up the pale stone steps, a sense of dread gnaws at me, my heart pounding in sync with the ominous rhythm. My path ends abruptly, trapping me in a dead-end and he finally appears, materializing in a whirlwind of darkness.

"Ok, Necromancer, let's wrap this up shall we? Just lunge at me so I can wake up." I snap, glaring at his dark cloud. I'm eager and ready to move on to more pleasant dreams. The fact that I haven't had a single dream of my family since Rivendell worries me, and I'm clueless to what it means.

"I have become accustomed to your energy signature. I know where you are in Middle Earth now. You are about to cross the Misty Mountains." His ominous voice is calm, almost casual, but it sends a shiver down my spine.

I clap my hands together, deciding that I'll just have to provoke him to anger until he loses control. I don't want to be stuck in this dream any longer than I have to. "Bravo, Sherlock. Now hurry up and attack so I can wake up and enjoy better dreams."

"I think not."

His shadowy figure condenses to become that of the human shape he sometimes chooses to portray. The air vibrates in strange patterns as he approaches. I step back instinctively, my heart pounding despite knowing he can't hurt me. It's just a dream.

"I'm not telling you anything about the future. Or my world. Or anything about me!" I hiss, my voice muted like the sound is being sucked into the void around him.

He's like a black hole.

"You will. When my servants capture you." He responds simply, his tone matter-of-fact.

"Servants?" I squint, puzzled. "What servants? You mean that weird hairy thing you keep trapped here? You might wanna seek better employment."

"I have legions of servants, all of which stand ready at my command," he replies, amusement lacing his words. "One of which is on your tail as we speak. He is seeking one of your companions, with orders to bring you to me."

My heart drops. What?

He chuckles, a low, menacing sound that sends shivers down my spine as he notices my expression, "Indeed. One of my most feared servants is after you. And he will not stop until he has you."

I shake my head, refusing to believe him. "You're lying. You're just trying to scare me."

"Am I?"

"So, torture?" I ask him, unamused, "That's your plan for me? Don't you have anything better to do with your life?"

The Necromancer doesn't have facial features, so I only know his emotions based on the aura I get from him. But if I could give him a human face with emotions, I would imagine him as a confident individual, maliciously amused. "You'll find out soon enough."

His tendrils of black mist creep towards me but do not touch me.

With that, he disappears, leaving me alone in the desolate city for the first time. It's disconcerting. He has never done this before. I wake up with a start, my heart pounding in my chest like it always does.

I sit up and look around, finding myself in the familiar surroundings of our camp. The others are still asleep, their faces peaceful, their snores filling the night air. They're oblivious to the danger that might be lurking nearby.

My mind races. Could the Necromancer be telling the truth? Is one of his servants really after us? After me? And if so, who could it be? I have no answers, only a growing sense of dread. Azog?

I turn to look over at Kili, Fili, asleep, wishing I was next to them with Bifur's bear like snores louder than And finally, my eyes flicker to where Thorin lay. He is asleep, his eyes closed, his chest slowly lifting.

I can't help but think of the nice dream I had with him before the Necromancer appeared and the strange word he whispered to me. Amralime. I have no idea what it means, but it felt... special. Like a secret shared between us.

I stay awake longer than I should, since Bombur is already on the first watch. But I can't help it. I'm jittery, feeling a sense of urgency to protect my friends from whatever threat might be out there seeking to destroy them. My eyes scan the darkness for any signs of danger but after one hour passes, I find myself nodding off, unable to continue.

The soft light of dawn signals our departure, but this morning, I feel anything but refreshed. Exhaustion clings to me like a second skin, my body heavy and drained of energy. Despite this, I rise without complaint, packing away my sleeping gear with bleary eyes.

My gaze instinctively finds Thorin like I do every morning, but I quickly look away when I realize he's watching me too.

Dang it, I looked away too quickly!

Come on Pey, don't act suspicious. Keep it together!

I force myself to look over at him, offering a tired but friendly smile.

I've made a decision; I'll be on my best behavior. No more romantic thoughts. I'll be 'a true friend', as Galadriel suggested. I'll focus on the quest, save the line of Durin, steer clear of the Necromancer, and then get my butt back home. Simple, right?

Throughout the day, I do my best to appear normal and I engage with everyone. I laugh at Kili and Fili's jokes, chat with Bilbo about what our Shire acquaintances must think of his prolonged absence, discuss electrical phenomena with Nori, and learn about Dwarven holidays and traditions from Balin. Even Dwalin earns a shoulder punch and a huff for a comment about me being 'defenseless as a baby bird.'

(He's right though. My hand actually hurts and he probably thought I was just brushing some dirt off his shoulder or something.)

I engage with everyone except for Thorin, that is.

Normally, I include him in my conversations. I'll always try to pull him out of his quiet melancholy, in an effort to get him out of his comfort zone and usual silence. But today I don't trust myself to not make longing star-filled eyes at him if he smiles, or to blush if he does something kind or gentlemanly.

I make a conscious effort to be everywhere he isn't. During lunch, I discuss food from my world with Bombur while purposefully sitting on the opposite side of the group from him. As we march towards the looming Misty Mountains I turn to engage Ori in conversation about his favorite books as Thorin walks on my other side, ensuring I stay distracted.

I'm fine. Everything is fine.

When we stop for camp that night, I walk off in the direction of the stream.

I know that if I TRULY wanted to act normal, I would talk and walk with him like I do every day. I just need…a day. Just one day to pull myself together and reset my mind a little. Tomorrow, I promise, I'll go back to-

"Is our next foul run-in with orcs close at hand, then?" Thorin's unexpected voice startles me, causing water to splash as I whirl around to see him standing quietly by a tree nearby.

He must have mistaken my evasive actions all day as my fear of upcoming events. I was hoping he wouldn't notice.

"Uhhhh. Yes!" I nod quickly, perhaps overly eager to let him believe that's the reason. "How did you guess?"

Thorin's expression clears slightly, straightening up, "Something felt different today, and I could not account for it. Can you share what sort of trouble it will be?" He takes a step closer, visibly concerned.

I sigh, "It's better if you don't know. If you do, you'll only worry more."

It's not a lie, but what's curious is that despite it being a genuine concern, the goblins haven't really been on my mind like it was a couple of days ago. With Gandalf absent, I should be more concerned about the timeline. But instead, Thorin has been occupying my mind all day. It didn't matter that I was laughing with Bofur, talking with Dori, giggling with Kili, or discussing medical procedures with Oin…. Thorin was on my mind for all of it. I wasn't able to turn off my 'Thorin tracker'.

"But if I don't know, I'll worry regardless," he counters, his posture tense from my cryptic words.

"Not as much as you would if you did know," I counter back, feeling a thrill from finally bantering with him again.

Once again, we find ourselves standing close, and I can't help but wonder why this always happens.

"Peyton." His tone is gentle, and the dream from the other night flashes in my mind when he called me a different name. His blue eyes are sincere and my insides do funny things when he says my name like that. My strange dream of him the other night returns and I'm half tempted to ask him what, if anything, 'Amralime' means or if it's just a silly word my mind made up.

He maintains a soft tone as he continues, "I order you to tell me what will happen."

My eyes widen. Oh no.

Why did I ever make that stupid oath?!And why is THIS, of all things, so important to him that he's ordered me? Avoiding him all day must have affected him more than I thought it would. I had no idea he would care so much, especially after what he said to Gandalf.

Avoiding Thorin is exactly what Galadriel had cautioned me against, but old habits die hard. I'm supposed to let him in, not shut him out. Instead, I've spent the entire day distancing myself from him.

But...how can I let someone in when I already know they won't like what they find inside?

I sigh, feeling the weight of my predicament. It's all so complicated! I'm supposed to be his friend, and it would be nice to unload a little.

"Fine. I'll tell you, but you can't avoid it," I say, studying him carefully. "It's crucial to the quest. If it doesn't happen, we might as well turn back now and save ourselves the trouble."

He immediately straightens up, his eyes fixed on me, hearing the gravity of the situation. He's a good King. He wants Erebor back, but he doesn't want any casualties.The safety of the company is his primary concern.

"I'll take it under consideration."

I gape at him, surprised, "Not good enough, Thorin! You have to promise!" I insist.

"You made an oath, but you did not require of me an oath in return." He reminds me, raising an eyebrow. "As King and leader of this company, it is my decision."

Ugh, he's right. I should have required an oath from him in return, but I didn't think of it at the time. He was so upset because of the map, th elves, and the fact that I hadn't trusted him with the information sooner, so I wasn't about to start making demands at the time.

He steps closer, and we are nearer than before. My heart palpitates as he gently asks, "Do you not trust me?"

I assess him carefully, gauging the sincerity in his blue eyes. If I want him to trust me, I have to trust him. And I have to keep my oath regardless.

"Rock giants," I say with a sigh, pausing before reluctantly adding, "And... uhhh, something else."

I desperately want to leave out the goblin part. I can't risk him trying to avoid that. But, I have to let him in. I can't block him out if I am to save his life.

He raises an eyebrow, his expression annoyed for a moment, "Rock giants? Those aren't real. They're just a legend."

I smile at him, "So is a magical place called Middle Earth."

Thorin gives me an unimpressed look, "You still believe this is all a fantasy?"

I grimace, and shift in place, "No, these sores on my feet are unfortunately very real."

We both give wan sympathetic smiles to each other before he folds his arms, giving me a look to remind me that I STILL haven't told him everything and I made an oath. I have to keep it.

I finally sigh, "And... we're going to get kidnapped by Goblins and taken into Goblintown."

Thorin's sympathetic smile vanishes.

"But we'll make it out okay!" I quickly add, feeling anxious at the expression on his face. "Gandalf will save us."

Thorin takes a step back from me, his eyes fixed on my face, silent.

"I promise, everyone in the company will make it! I'd sacrifice myself before I would allow any of you to be hurt." I add, hoping it would make his expression ease. If anything, his expression turns more severe.

"No, Peyton," he responds gravely.

"What?" My stomach twists.

He gives me a solemn look, his expression regretful but firm, "I cannot allow this company to be captured by Goblins. I am sorry."

"But! Thorin!..." I'm aghast, utterly stunned. He can't avoid the goblins! He could avoid anything else he wanted to on this trip EXCEPT for them!

Suddenly, he strides forward, invading my personal space, offended at the betrayed expression I'm sending him. "You know nothing of the vile things of this world! Do you have any idea what goblins do to women?" he growls.

"No, but it doesn't matter! We have to—" I start to argue.

"It DOES matter, Peyton," he snaps, furious now. "Do you recall the trolls? How they reacted to your presence compared to ours?"

He shakes his head as if the thoughts pained him greatly. "You'd be torn apart, subjected to far worse things before they got to that point. They wouldn't spare you."

"Thorin, we don't have any other choice!" I frantically answer back, my voice rising. "If we want to succeed in this quest, we have to go through!"

"We will go another way." He states resolutely. He turns to walk away from me back to camp.

Oh no, you don't!

I rush in front of him, planting myself in his path and pressing my hands against his chest to halt his movement.

He stops, not because of my strength, but to avoid running into me and knocking me over. I had trusted him, like Galadriel told me to do, and this is what happens?

"You HAVE to listen!" I plead desperately. "If we skip the Goblin tunnels, we might as well head back to the Shire RIGHT NOW! We'll never make it to Erebor, Thorin! You could decide to change ANYTHING else, but you can't change THIS!"

He raises his hands to mine and rather than swiping them off his chest and away from him, to my shock, he places them over mine, gripping them gently in his warm calloused ones. My heart beats fast and I look into his eyes, confused where this gentleness is coming from. Our position could be mistaken for a passionate lovers' quarrel.

"I've been reflecting on what Lord Elrond said to Gandalf," he murmurs, his chest rumbling against my hands like a large cat. "About how everything you come in contact with changes. The future isn't set in stone, and things have shifted. You admitted it yourself."

His words send a chill down my spine. The river with Honey. Nori and the lightning. The trolls. The ponies. The wargs. The map. The Necromancer. What else might have changed that I've come into contact with? I glance down at my hands, resting within his own hands, pressed against his firm chest. He's not wearing armor, and I can feel the heat radiating from his solid muscles beneath my touch. A faint vibration under my fingertips alerts me to his steady heartbeat.

My heart races as he continues to hold my gaze. What is he doing to me? What have I done to him?

"Don't you trust me?" I echo his earlier words to me back to him. My voice is barely a whisper, feeling an unsettling sensation in my gut as I take a step back, putting a step of distance between us.

His gaze on my face is tender, a look I don't trust myself to interpret. My heart does strange things in my chest, and my breathing is shallow. The air seems thick with his presence.

"I trust that your intentions are good. You mean well," he begins. "But you've acknowledged yourself that you don't know what you're doing. Your comment of sacrificing yourself for the safety of the company clearly shows that Goblins are something you have no understanding of, just like with the trolls. It might have been possible in the original timeline you're aware of...But you weren't part of the original story, and I won't risk—"

He stops what he was about to say, closing his mouth, his blue eyes intense. Is he saying what I think he's….no. He said it wouldn't work out! That it was an impossibility! He said he didn't feel anything and that he wouldn't fight for me to stay! He isn't implying anything, and I'm reading too much into this.

I look down at his steel-toed boots, my mind racing. If Bilbo doesn't get the ring, we won't get past the spiders, escape Thranduil's dungeons, or manage to get past Smaug to burgle something. If he doesn't have the ring, then Frodo won't either. Which means Middle Earth is doomed.

But what if...

What if the ring stays in the Misty Mountains with Gollum? What if it doesn't resurface for another 1,000 years? Maybe that wouldn't be such a terrible outcome... right?

But no. Eventually, somehow, the ring will resurface. And if Frodo doesn't have it when it does, it will fall into the wrong hands. But couldn't the Valar find someone else instead of Frodo to carry the ring? Yes, probably.

But then, what will happen to the story that I know and love? What will happen to MY world without that story to inspire generations of people? The books and movies that were inspired by the Hobbit in a hole in the ground? The entire fate of Middle Earth rests on obtaining this one ring. I don't know how it affects Earth's fate, but I certainly don't want to live in a world without this story.

My gaze shifts back to Thorin, who remains silent, his eyes locked on me, awaiting my response. I carefully select my words, each one heavy with meaning, "Thorin, If we don't go through Goblin Town, then Bilbo will never get...an object that is crucial to helping us complete our journey."

"What object?" Thorin's brows knit together in confusion.

"A ring." I say slowly, carefully.

"A ring?" Thorin echoes, disbelief etched on his face.

"Yes. A ring that helps him save the company."

"What makes this ring so special?" He inquires, a note of wariness entering into his voice.

It's the One ring. Yeah, don't say that. He must know the story. He knew about Isildur from Rivendell and his grandpa had a ring from Sauron, one that he would have inherited if his father had not been lost. He has more right than he knows to be wary.

"Uh, It makes its wearer invisible." I hedge, hoping that this particular attribute of the ring is not widely known.

Thorin's eyebrows shoot up, "I've never heard of a ring possessing such power."

I inwardly relax, relieved, before pondering it myself, "Yeah, I don't know why it makes people invisible either." It didn't make Sauron invisible when he wore it...so why does it affect everyone else? I've never really questioned it until now.

I don't mean to, it's just where my eyes seem to land, but I find myself staring at Thorin's lips as I continue, "It's in the caves underneath the mountain. Bilbo is destined to find it. We won't get past Smaug without it."

When I meet his gaze, I realize that Thorin's sharp eyes have caught me staring at his mouth. I momentarily forget the reason for my earlier distress. His eyes seem darker than usual, the blue barely visible. It could just be the dim lighting, but everything is starting to look dark with the sun having set.

Without the light, my other senses naturally heighten in order to feed my brain information about my surroundings. I feel our breaths mingling, the scent of his clothes and hair more pronounced, my hands tingling from where he had held them against his warm chest.

Thorin's demeanor has also shifted, causing my heart to race. His gaze holds an intense, almost predatory quality as we stand close together in the dark. Part of me just wants throw caution to the wind, say 'YOLO', and kiss the infuriating dwarf. The other part wants to strangle him for the confusion he's causing me.

But I get intrusive thoughts like this all the time, and I've had practice ignoring them. Like that urge to run my car off the road out of curiosity or take up ballet as a hobby. Kissing Thorin Oakenshield in the twilight hours of the night has unforeseen consequences, and yet, despite my inner protests, I find myself swaying towards his face a few centimeters anyway.

"I think she went this way!"

Bofur's jolly voice breaks the heavily charged atmosphere between Thorin and me. Thorin turns toward the sound while I quickly bend down to pick up some sticks as Bofur approaches.

"Here ye are! Come on, lass! Dwalin's ready for your—" Bofur's voice trails off in surprise as he notices Thorin's presence, "Oh! Thorin! I didn't realize you were with her!" His voice turns innocent yet I detect a hint of slyness as if the fact that we're out together alone is scandalous.

Given the strange almost-kiss that nearly transpired, his insinuations aren't entirely unwarranted.

I almost kissed the dwarf that I've been trying to avoid all day so I could emotionally tuck him into a box and forget about him. Plus, he said it's impossible to be together! But, isn't that kind of my fault though? Since...I'm leaving, he's right.

I try to act as casually as possible, closing my tangled emotions and thoughts as best I can until I can analyze them later and pretending nothing out of the ordinary has occurred. "Yeah, we were just... discussing some... uh... tactics," I say, mentally berating myself for the awkwardness of my explanation.

Bofur, and I'm unsure if he's aware of the thick atmosphere, chuckles, "Ah, discussin' tactics, eh? Well, you better hurry on over, Dwalin's getting impatient."

"Right," I reply quickly, trying to suppress the flush creeping up my neck. "We'll be right there. Just...need to finish up our discussion."

"Alright, Pey, but be quick about it." He gives the two of us a stern look, as if he were a concerned parent before leaving.

"He's right; we must be getting back." Thorin's says gruffly. When I glance back at him he refuses to meet my eyes, his whole demeanor now subdued as if regretful.

I shake my head, done with playing around, "Fine. But we will be going through the Goblin Tunnels. We will be getting the ring. And we will be reclaiming Erebor!"

That does the trick and he turns his gaze onto me. His eyes are hard, his jaw set in a firm line at my tone, the two of us in a heated glaring contest.

"I will not risk your life, Peyton," he says, his voice low and resolute. "I will not let you be taken by goblins."

"I won't be taken by Gob-...Have you not been listening to A WORD I've said?!" I gape, frustrated beyond belief. "I'm not going to be taken by Goblins! The whole company is! And we will be JUST. FINE!"

"Are all human females as hard of hearing as you are?" He growls. "As leader of this company I say we shall not."

"But you don't understand!" I cry, my voice breaking. "It's the only way!"

"No," he denies, his voice firm. "I don't believe that. There is always another way."

"But there ISN'T!" I insist, my heart pounding in my chest. "You stubborn, hard-headed mule! We have to get the ring! Do you want to reach Erebor or not?" I feel a lump forming in my throat, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. "Please Thorin," I beg, my voice barely a whisper. "You have to trust me!"

Thorin closes his eyes, taking an inward chill pill and a deep breath. He's doing a much better job than I am of speaking calmly and reining in his emotions. When he comes out of his mental exercise, he looks at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. His eyes soften, as well as his voice, "I do trust you," he says, his voice barely audible. "But I won't trust Goblins. I am sorry, Peyton."

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing alone in the fading light. I watch him go, my heart aching with a mixture of frustration and despair. I've failed. I've failed to convince him, and now our quest is doomed.

I sink to my knees, my body shaking with silent sobs. I've failed them. I've failed them all. And now, I have no idea how to fix it.

End of Chapter

Dun dun DUUUUN!!!!!! Will they find another way to Erebor?! Will Bilbo ever find the Ring? Will Thorin and Peyton ever acknowledge the feelings they harbor for each other?!?!?

WILL THEY?!?!?

Nope. Not unless you review XD Jk. You don't have to. Brownie points if you know what song inspired this and last chapter's titles!!!

Poor Pey! Finally learns to keep her big mouth shut only to become beholden to an oath she made without thinking about it, lol. And c'mon Thorin! Quite trying to control everything and everyone! Sheesh!