Chapter 15
Progress
1. movement forwards, esp towards a place or objective
2. satisfactory development, growth, or advance: she is making progress in maths
3. advance towards completion, maturity, or perfection: the steady onward march of progress
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Thorin
It was altogether far less exhausting to attend council meetings, pore over boring documents for hours on end, work at the forge and even reclaim an entire kingdom than to sit through a meal with Kate's family, or so Thorin Oakenshield found when he finally stretched out his weary limbs on the bed Kate's mother had provided. He could feel the brother's resentment simmering in the very air he breathed. The mother was better, but something about her scrutiny of him – even though conducted with kind eyes and gentle voice – made him want to bolt out of the room. Confronting an army of orcs appeared to be the better option.
In a way it reminded him of Bofur once remarking that if forced to choose between an angry Kate and a dragon, he'd pick the dragon. Not that the mother and brother were angry, mind, not in the way Kate was, but something about them still made Thorin think almost longingly about taking on Smaug with a small company of dwarves, one woman and an unbelievably brave hobbit. Considered to how things stood now, the odds had been extremely in his favour then.
This house did not help him in achieving any peace of mind either. For a mannish building it looked sturdy enough, but he missed Erebor already, missed being underground. Without knowing what it would mean, Kate's mother had given them the attic, as far away from the ground as possible. Had he thought her capable of cruelty, he would have suspected her of it. But she had been as pleasant as could be.
'You still awake?' Kate whispered as she came in.
'Yes.' He doubted he would find rest here. It certainly would not come easily to him, despite the weariness he felt to deep down in his bones.
Kate nodded. By now she would know what issues plagued his mind without needing to be told. 'The lads are sleeping and I would be very much surprised indeed if Duria woke before morning.' Their daughter had mastered the art of sleeping through the night rather quicker than her brothers, Maker be praised.
'And your family?'
'Mum's still mulling things over with a cup of tea and I haven't seen Jacko since dinner.' He could hear that her brother's rejection had hurt her deeply. Thorin himself had felt the need to remind himself repeatedly that fastening his hands around Jacko Andrews's neck would do him no favours here. But it had been hard, having to sit through sneering remark after sneering remark, unable to do something.
In a way Kate had been proven right; her family's anger had mostly been directed at her. All his fears to be accused of stealing Kate away had been for nothing. A good few things had been said about her choices and it had also been made obvious that at least Jacko thought Kate had made the wrong one. However, he found he could have endured his fears coming true if it spared her the pain she was put through.
She must have seen his look, because she shrugged. 'It can't be helped. I'll talk with Jacko tomorrow and my mother will come round, I know she will.' It did hardly escape his notice that she made no such claims about her brother.
'Come to bed, Kate,' he told her, gently as he could. 'Fretting won't do any good.'
She smiled. It did not quite reach her eyes, but it was genuine. 'When did you get so wise?' she wondered. There was a mildly teasing tone, because they both knew from whose lips this piece of wisdom came.
'Can't recall,' he said.
This made the smile reach up just long enough to touch her eyes. It was a look he did not see nearly enough. 'You're getting old; your memory's going,' she shot back. She quickly undressed and liberated what little hair remained in her braid from it. 'Would you mind braiding it for bed?' she asked.
He sat up and nodded. It was something that had taken a while to figure out, but eventually he realised that Kate drew comfort from physical contact the same way he did. She would never ask for it directly, and neither would he, but they did not need to; they knew each other too well.
Thorin did as she asked and then held her when he lay down again. Though who was drawing comfort from whom was hard to say. They both had a need of it. Kate hadn't asked him again how he was holding up – he wouldn't have thanked her if she did – but he was sure that she knew. Not all the stories she had told could have prepared him in any way for what he had seen here. The cars, the devices that did things seemingly by themselves, the speed of life itself… It left him bewildered and slightly afraid. There was so very little that looked in any way familiar, that he could in any way relate to. He did not belong here. He felt like drowning.
So he clung to his wife as she clung to him. No words were spoken, nor were they needed. They would not make matters better anyway. Actions had always counted for more. Kate drifted off quickly enough. She always tried to stay awake when she knew his mind was troubled, but her body's need for rest would eventually win out. It had always been like that.
And she did not need to be awake to be a comfort to him all the same. There had been many a night that he had woken from a nightmare to find relief in the simple fact that she was there. Most of his night terrors consisted of disjointed images, memories and worst fears alike. Death was the only constant in them. Of course, never his own. That at least would have been bearable. Having Kate near reminded him that she was alive, warm and breathing. And if she was, so were their sons, their daughter, his sister, her brothers, Fíli, Dwalin and Balin and everyone else.
But even holding her gave him no peace of mind. Not even in all his years of exile had the longing for home been so strong, but then, he had never been in a world he did not understand. Back in Middle Earth life followed certain rules, certain patterns. It had always been in a specific way or something very close to it. There were no such patterns to draw from here. It was too different. And the few people they knew in this world had so far proven to not be all that friendly.
Thorin managed to snatch bits of sleep throughout the night, never longer than half an hour at most – often far less – together, lying awake for what felt like hours for the rest of it. It was nothing short of a blessing when a floor below first Duria began to fuss and then inevitably, Thoren and Thráin followed in her wake. Kate didn't stir and so he let her be, found his clothes, dressed and left the room. She had been exhausted and she was a daughter of Men, meaning that she needed the rest far more than he did. His mind might crave the oblivion of sleep, but his body could go without for longer than hers.
He collected the boys and lifted Duria into his arms before he made his way downstairs. Not that he knew what to do when he got there; he'd only caught glimpses of what certain things were used for. How to use them was a different matter entirely. But he could think of a way to keep his offspring occupied until the other people in the house woke.
As it happened, he was not the first to come down. Or maybe he was, because it seemed like the lone occupant of the living room had never gone up in the first place. Kate's mother – 'Call me Helen, please' – sat curled up on the sofa, the way her daughter did. The pose was one familiar thing at least. So was the pensive look in her eyes.
'Good morning,' he said.
She looked up when Thoren and Thráin enthusiastically echoed the greeting. 'Good morning indeed. Early risers, are you?'
'The lads generally are,' Thorin replied. And as a consequence, so was he. Or Kate, whichever one of them was woken first. 'We did not mean to disturb you.'
Helen left the sofa in one fluid motion – especially considering her age – and shook her head. 'You didn't. You're just a little earlier than my children, which comes as no great surprise.' The amusement became more pronounced. 'When they were teenagers, I had to practically beat them out of bed with a stick. Who knows, those days may still be in your future.'
The suggestion that any dwarf would ever spend his days lazing in bed set his blood to boiling. He knew better than to shout in the woman's face, though. She could not know what it meant. Kate had made more than one such error when they had first met. Sometimes, when she wasn't really thinking about what she was saying, she still did. It only served to emphasise that she had been raised in a world and a culture not his own.
'I don't believe so.' The words sounded wooden and awkward to even his own ears, but it was far better than exploding in rage.
Helen must have sensed that something was amiss. It was right there in the brief furrowing of her brow, but it was not there in her voice when she spoke again. 'Well, if I know Jacko and Kate, we'll be waiting a while still, but there's tea and I've found The Lion King lying around when I cleaned up a week ago, so I reckon you boys will like a spot of movie-watching before breakfast, don't you?'
Thorin did not understand a single word of that last sentence. Or rather, he knew what the individual words meant, but all of them put together had him struggling to find any semblance of coherency. Neither did Thoren and Thráin by the look of things, but that had never put them off. Not knowing was the quickest way to awaken their curiosity.
He nodded his approval. What was the worst that could happen? Helen seemed like a responsible kind of woman. It did not stop him from trying to work out what she was doing on his own. He failed, naturally. He had better resign himself to be forever baffled by this world's mysteries.
Nevertheless he had to consciously stop himself from doing a step back in shock and astonishment when the screen – he remembered that word from one of Kate's explanations about her "phone" – came to life with sound and motion.
Thoren and Thráin were equally surprised, but visibly far more happy about it. 'Oh, adad, do you see?' Thráin exclaimed at a volume loud enough to drown out the sudden noise and to quite possibly wake the dead as well.
'How's it doing that?' Thoren wondered. 'Is it magic?'
Helen shook her head. 'No, it's not. I'll explain later. You two enjoy the story now.'
She did not need to say it twice. Thorin's sons were already staring wide-eyed at the screen and its goings-on. A story, Helen had said. It brought up a memory of discussing the wretched book on the road and Kate making frequent mention of another version, a movie, as she had called it. He had been unable to imagine what it was like and when asked, Kate had explained that it was a different way of storytelling. It seemed to Thorin that different was the key word indeed.
'Why don't we relocate to the kitchen for a cup of tea?' Helen suggested. 'And maybe a glass of milk for this shy young lady?'
Duria showed her face just long enough to reveal a delighted smile, which was all the answer that was needed. So he followed Helen to the kitchen. The lads did not even seem to notice their departure. In a way he envied them their curiosity, their willingness to explore new things. It was still a good thing for them. As for Thorin himself, his exile had burned all his excitement for new things right out of him, because in his experience they were only very seldom good.
'Your people drink a lot of tea,' he observed. He always thought that it was just Kate, but since he had been here, he had seen both her mother and her brother consume incredible amounts of it. Of course hobbits were well-known for their love of tea – it would be hard to forget Master Baggins's many lamentations about the regrettable lack of his beverage of choice on the quest – but hobbits were strange creatures. 'I assumed it was mostly popular among hobbits.'
This gained him a chuckle for his efforts. 'Hobbits could have been British. Or the British could have been hobbits. Take your pick.'
He sat himself down on one of the kitchen chairs, not quite knowing what to make of a comment like that. Kate would have responded with some kind of witty remark that would keep conversation flowing, but Thorin had never been blessed with the gift of words, especially not among those he barely knew. Helen, for all the traits she shared with her daughter, was a stranger.
He settled on a curt 'thank you' when his tea was handed to him after a silence that had lasted far too long. By that time Duria had found enough courage to climb down from his lap to inspect a toy her grandmother had found for her. Slowly but surely his little girl was overcoming her shyness. It was hard not to, with all the adoration she received. If he was anyone else, he would have found Kate's mother a difficult woman to dislike as well.
Helen looked pensive for a moment, but then seemingly settled on what she wanted to say and spoke. 'I didn't say yesterday, but thank you.'
Well, that took him by surprise. 'What for, may I ask?'
'Staying with Kate,' Helen said.
If that had been intended to clear matters up, she had failed. Either way, it didn't. 'Beg pardon?' He sincerely hoped that it was just his imagination reading an insult in her words.
'It was something she said yesterday.' He knew that thoughtful look; Kate often wore it right before a deep and meaningful insight, when she had spent a long time thinking about a subject beforehand. 'She said that at least one of the reasons she married you is that you stayed, because you stand by her and always will.'
He should not have been surprised that Kate had confided in her mother of all people. She did not usually share personal affairs with anyone but him and those very close to her, and she had not seen her mother for eight years. Then again, knowing Kate, she could have said it in a fit of temper, defending him because she was sick and tired of folk making assumptions and sticking their noses where they had no business being.
When he did not reply, she went on. 'I think she'll have told you that her father left and that she has been unlucky in love before she met you?'
'I am aware of it.' It was one of the things where they had found common ground. Both their fathers had disappeared and while their cases may otherwise be very different, both fathers had gone because they gave up the fight, because the family they had was apparently not enough reason to keep on fighting. And neither of them were strangers to people leaving them.
'So someone staying because they want to and not because they have to, that's rare for her. Or at any rate, it used to be. I can thank you for that at the very least.' The words were clearly genuine, if unnecessary. Of course he stood by Kate. She was his wife. Then again, part of the reason he loved her was because she had chosen to stay even after she had fulfilled her vows, because she wanted to, not because she had to, like Helen thanked him for doing.
He nodded, accepting the compliment. He would not say 'you're welcome,' because he had not done it for her. Quite the contrary, most days he was only too aware of how selfish he must have been to keep her when in another world there were people he deprived of her company. But he also recognised a peace offering when he encountered it. Kate took after her mother like that, apologising without actually saying the words.
And so he could make an effort, couldn't he? He owed it to Kate to at the very least try to get on with her family. All things considered, the mother might be a far better place to start than the brother, who had given every impression of not wanting to have anything to do with him. Of course the feeling was entirely mutual.
'You have a good instrument,' he observed, referring to the harp he had seen in the living room. It could not hold a candle to the instruments his people could craft, but as mannish work went, it was surprisingly good.
He knew at once he'd struck gold. Helen's face lit up and she smiled. 'You know about harps then? The book mentioned it, but you know better than I how unreliable they can be.'
It might not be so bad as he had feared after all.
Kate
When she woke up, Kate could not for the life of her remember where she was and how she had come to be here. The mattress felt wrong and it was by far too light in the room. Her bedroom in Erebor had windows – she would never stop being grateful to Thorin for suggesting they stay in those airy rooms instead of the royal apartments deep inside the Mountain itself – but they had heavy curtains that never let in that much daylight. Come to think of it, the bed was too empty.
It was then that consciousness caught up with her and it all came crashing back, instantly chasing the last remnants of sleep from her mind. She was back. After all these years, she had come back at last. She was home. No, not home. Erebor was home. She chose that. And still there was that little voice in the back of her head that kept referring to this world as home, because it was where she had been meant to make her home. That of course was before the grey wizard had come meddling in things he should have stayed out of.
She opened her eyes to find that it must be later than she had intended to sleep. No, scratch that, she hadn't intended to sleep at all before Thorin had found some rest of his own. The previous day had been a trial beyond compare and she'd wanted to be there for him when they finally got a moment alone, bugger it all.
She groaned in frustration. That had not gone as planned.
Having said that, there was nothing she could do to remedy that now. And seeing as Thorin had already gone down and her mother had always been an early riser, if there was some kind of disaster going to happen, it would be safe to say it already had and she had managed to sleep right through it. Jacko on the other hand had never risen early unless he'd been held at gunpoint, so there was that. Small mercies and all that nonsense.
'Well done, Andrews,' she muttered. She'd somehow stuck with her habit of chastising herself with her old surname, given the fact she hadn't exactly gotten a new one when she married, because dwarves didn't hold with that sort of thing. No, because using their fathers' names to tell them apart is such a splendid idea.
In all the chaos and emotional turmoil of the previous day she'd hardly had the time to really stop and think about it. Only now did it really start to sink in that she had really made it back. It somehow still felt too good to be true, a mere dream she could wake from at a moment's notice. When had she ever had such good luck without a price tag attached? Luck only ever seemed to happen to other people.
'I'm back.' She spoke the words out loud to see if they made it seem any less surreal. They didn't.
Well, there was hardly any point in lazing about while the day was wasting. Now you know you've spent too much time among dwarves, my dear. Either way, there was a shower a floor below her that Kate decided had her name on it. Honestly, the baths in Erebor were heavenly and no exaggeration on that count, but to have flowing hot water again? That was a different kind of heaven altogether. Maybe she could even persuade Thorin to try it with her. Preferably when no one else was home, naturally.
When she came down the stairs she noticed that the door to Jacko's room was already open. Now there was a surprise. But there weren't any noises indicating World War Three coming from downstairs, so maybe everyone had decided to be sensible for the day. Or maybe not a whole day, but she would be happy with just about thirty minutes more. Or maybe an hour. If she had to go and play peacemaker for the day, she'd prefer to do it on a full stomach.
Taking a shower was every bit as delightful as she had expected it to be. And to think I used to take it for granted. It wasn't until she had gone on a quest in a medieval sort of world that she realised how much she missed those luxuries she hadn't even stopped to properly appreciate until then. Well, better make the most of it, because it won't last.
Turning off the shower took a considerable strength of will. The hot water raining down on her skin felt good. It relaxed her tense muscles and at long last made her feel as if she was a twenty-first century woman from Earth instead of a thirtieth century of the Third Age of Middle Earth noblewoman.
Dressing the part also helped. Kate could hardly believe her mother kept her clothes, much less that they actually still fit. She knew she had gained some weight since her questing days, not much, but some. She'd kept in shape. Traipsing all over the Mountain all the livelong day every day would do that to a body.
No Middle Earth fashion for me for six whole weeks. Have I died and gone to heaven? She'd never been the dress-wearing type, but her position demanded it of her and so she had complied. But this was not Erebor, she would not have to sit through council and court for six blessed weeks and there was no call for dresses or skirts around these parts. But in the interest of not giving Thorin too much of a culture shock – well, more than he'd had already – she chose a short-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of jeans ending just an inch above her ankles. It was summer after all.
When she was done she took a good long look at herself in the bathroom mirror. And there, that was how she used to be. There were no braids in her hair and there was not a dress in sight. She wasn't even wearing any jewellery. If one overlooked her scars, particularly the one on her face, it looked as though she had never left at all. And isn't that a somewhat frightening thought in its own right? Thorin no doubt would think so. And fret about it something awful.
For now however peace reigned in the house. In fact, when she came in, the adults were nowhere in sight. Instead she was met with the sight of her wide-eyed sons sitting on the couch watching the television with rapt attention. As chance would have it she came in just as Timon and Pumba launched into their life's philosophy of Hakuna Matata. And didn't that just bring back lots of happy memories?
It took Thoren a whole minute to notice her, he was that caught up in the events on screen. 'Amad, do you see? Do you see that?'
She laughed. 'Yes, I do, sweetheart. I used to watch this when I was your age.'
He looked at her as though he could barely believe it. 'You didn't.'
'I did,' she assured him. 'And The Lion King used to be one of my favourites.' She'd loved Disney movies, all of them, although she had a slight preference for the stories that weren't about the love at first sight couples. 'Pay attention, darling, you'll miss the important bits. I'll call when breakfast's on the table.'
She did not need to tell him twice. Bless.
Assuming that the rest of the family had made themselves comfortable in the kitchen, she headed that way, humming the song under her breath. Goodness knew she'd love to have no worries for the rest of her days, but that was unlikely to happen. But it was a hard fact that she felt less like she was dragging a ball and chain of guilt behind her. Some of her load had been miraculously lifted. Either that or she wasn't quite awake enough to realise it was there yet.
On the other hand, maybe she was still dreaming. It seemed the only reasonable explanation for the sight that met her eyes when she entered the kitchen and found her husband and her mother deep in conversation about harps. Duria was playing with Lego bricks at their feet. So much for not handing that out to children below the age of three, Kate thought wryly, although she was probably lucky; Duria had never had the questionable habit of putting things in her mouth.
'Morning,' she greeted.
Her mother echoed the greeting. Thorin acknowledged her presence by sending a quick smile her way. Had she blinked, she might have missed it, that and the genuine relief in his eyes. Nope, there hadn't been any war in her absence. That was good to know.
'Where's Jacko?' she asked. He hadn't been abed, but he was not anywhere to be seen either.
Her mother frowned. 'I thought he was still sleeping.'
Kate shook her head. 'His door was open and the bed was most definitely empty.' She might have said not been slept in had it not been for her brother's habit to make the bloody thing so neat not even Dori could have criticised him for it. Still, she wondered. 'Did you hear him go to bed?' Somehow she doubted her mother had broken herself off the habit of staying up all night with huge amounts of tea when there was a Serious Matter that needed thinking about. Her bed had definitely not had an occupant last night and Kate knew well enough that she might have been the Serious Matter in question last night. At least it seemed as though she had arrived at a favourable conclusion.
'Truth be told, I can't recall him coming in after he went outside.'
Kate groaned. 'Not this again.'
When her brother was seventeen, there had been something of a fight about… well, she couldn't even remember what it had been about. Afterwards he had stormed off. That had been nothing new. Jacko needed to blow off steam when he was mad and it was for the best if there was no one in his way when that occurred. But after four hours they had gotten worried. He did not come back and he wasn't answering his phone. And matters did not get better when they realised he had swiped the car keys and had made off with the car, never mind that he did not have a driving licence. The next evening he had come strolling back in, totally calm, apologised and went on as if he had not put his mother and sister through the worst day of their lives. Apparently he'd driven all the way to Dover in an attempt to clear his head. Now that he had done so, he'd come back.
'This happened before?' Thorin asked.
Kate grimaced. 'Unfortunately.' A quick peek out of the window told her that, unsurprisingly, her brother's car had done a vanishing act along with its owner.
Her mother looked resigned and slightly uneasy. Her unease was not unfounded. Jacko was a safety hazard behind the wheel at the best of times, and anger made him worse. It was not that hard to imagine his drive had come to a sudden standstill against a tree, or a house, or at the bottom of a river. 'I'll try his phone.'
He'll have that turned off, Kate knew. He was a grown man, but he could be so bloody childish sometimes. That had not changed, she found. 'I'll try Jane. He might have gone back home.' She retrieved her phone from where she had left it the previous night. 'Hang on, you try Jane. I don't have her number. I'll give Jacko a ring.' And give him a piece of my mind on his voicemail if he has the guts to ignore me. Going off the radar without a good reason – a good reason meaning here something along the lines of being abducted by a wizard to another world – was not acceptable and her twin really should know better.
Her mother left the kitchen to make the call, leaving only Thorin and Kate with their daughter. Duria had no interest in the affairs of the adults. Her new toys were far more captivating.
'Are you…?' Thorin began.
'Okay? Worried?' she asked, filling in the blanks. When he confirmed that he had indeed meant to ask that, she replied: 'No to the first, yes to the second. Jacko's a bloody fool and a danger behind the wheel. Especially when he is angry.'
It was testimony to how much he had relaxed already that he smiled. 'He truly is your brother then.'
Kate snorted. 'I'm a much better driver, thank you very much.'
'I beg to differ,' her husband remarked. 'You drove so fast I felt as if I had left my stomach behind in… Cardiff, was it?'
'Oi, I'll have you know I stuck to the speed limit.' And everything was fast compared to transport on horseback. 'You just haven't experienced being a passenger when Jacko's the chauffeur and if I have a say in the matter, that'll never happen. I like you in one piece. And him too, preferably.'
He must have read the worry from her voice and eyes. 'Call him, Kate.'
So she did. The phone rang once, twice… Kate was surprised he hadn't switched the thing straight to voicemail. 'Pick up,' she growled into the phone.
Her brother promptly did. 'Jacko Andrews.'
She didn't bother returning the courtesy; he'd know who she was from the caller ID. 'Where the bloody hell are you?' she demanded.
'I had an errand to run.' His answer was annoyingly and suspiciously evasive.
'All night?' He could probably deduce from her tone that she wasn't buying what he was selling. 'And you didn't think to, oh, I don't know, leave a note? You paid attention in school, you can set pen to paper, can't you?'
'Like you did, you mean?' came the sarcastic response.
'Well, if you had gotten abducted by a meddling wizard I might have been sympathetic, but you're obviously still a free man.' Couldn't he see what he was doing? 'You're damn lucky mum only just realised a minute ago that you'd gone or you would have had her fretting all night. Again.'
'I needed to clear my head.' Was it just her or was he really giving her an impression of a sulking teenager?
'Which stopped you from writing a note or telling anyone where you were going how exactly?' It was all a load of bullshit.
'Good grief, Kate, you're such a hypocrite sometimes,' he complained, still keeping up the charade of the spoiled kid. 'You can tell mum I'm on my way. I'll be there in ten.'
He hung up before she could comment on the suggestion he was driving whilst making a phone call.
'He's on his way apparently,' she reported wryly. 'He'll be here in ten minutes.' Her mother had come in just as she mentioned his expected time of arrival and immediately passed it on to Jane, so at least she wouldn't worry when there was no need. He had managed to survive the night, so it stood to reason he would also survive the next few minutes, after which Kate might just knock him unconscious herself.
'Where's he been?' her mother asked.
'Maker knows,' Kate replied. 'Dover? Cardiff? Narnia?' She didn't think she imagined the quick upwards motion of Thorin's lips at the last name. Well, he would know it; she'd taken to reading the stories to the boys recently. He had never paid much attention when she read to the company on the quest, but he'd become well acquainted with the book afterwards. She'd even caught him in the act of reading it once and his argument that it could not be worse than trade agreements had not fooled her for one second.
She got a snort for a reply. 'That'd be the day. Both my children hanging out in other worlds.'
'Jacko without his morning fix of caffeine and no phone to distract him from that?' She shuddered at the thought.
'It would seem that Gandalf selected the right Andrews for the task after all,' Thorin observed. And if he was getting relaxed enough to joke, that must mean he actually got on pretty well with her mother. No great surprise there – it was impossible to remain angry at her for long and her mother could never maintain anger for any length of time herself either – but a relief all the same. Now she'd just have to focus on bringing Jacko around.
'Wait, you mean the one who doesn't want to get out of bed in the morning and talks before she thinks? I suspect that one went over well with the elves.'
More surprising was that her mum was bantering right along with him. At her expense. And Thorin did not seem to find that an issue like he normally did. She'd been praying for a miracle, but she hadn't actually expected that it would happen. Miracles happened to other people and on the rare occasion that they did happen to her, they always seemed to take place around Durin's Day. This particular one had come months ahead of schedule.
Thorin did not miss a beat. 'She serenaded them on first encounter.'
'They serenaded us first.' Kate had only ever responded. She hadn't made up the songs. She merely altered the lyrics. And the elves had been asking for it. So had the orcs, and the men of Lake-town. And the Taylor Swift song in the car had just been too good an opportunity to miss. 'And I responded at your request at least two times, if my memory serves me right.' She fixed him with a stare. Two could play this game after all.
'Aye, but it was you that did the singing. And you did not protest the notion.'
'I questioned your sanity instead,' she retorted.
Meanwhile her heart was soaring. They had sort of grown used to this, this bantering when they were at ease. Uncharacteristically it had been Nori who had once observed it was how they showed affection. They didn't really say things like 'I love you' but they had this instead. Well, this and the physical side of things, which they kept well away from anyone, especially the likes of her brothers. Neither of them was demonstrative about it, which Kate was grateful for. Even after years they still made her feel slightly awkward. Or rather, it made her feel awkward, because the memory of the last one who had been so outspoken about his affections had turned out to be a right bastard in the end. Thanks for that, Marc. I'll punch your nose in gratitude if I ever happen to run into you again.
'No news there, sweetheart,' her mother smiled. 'Ah, that'd be Jacko,' she said when she heard the doorbell.
Speaking of those waiting in line for a punch in the face. 'You'd better open the door,' Kate advised. 'I'm not sure I wouldn't throw him right back out again.'
'Kate…'
'Mum, he ran off. Again.' Her mother's ability to see the best in people was admirable, if a little annoying. 'He has a phone. He could have called, texted. Hell, he could even have written an old-fashioned note. He did none of those.'
Neither had she done any of the aforementioned. But her situation had been different. She'd had her phone, true enough, but she had been only a world out of reach. And it was not as if she had been able to send a note. Though if you had asked Gandalf sooner, would he have let you? It was just one of those questions that had been on her mind a lot lately. The answer was that she didn't know. The idea had never occurred to her. She had been too focused on getting home to settle for a temporary solution. All or nothing. She was such a person.
But Jacko did have a point. There might have been a possibility for her to let them know where she was – question remained if they would have believed it – and that she was alive and as well as she could be on a quest to battle a dragon. She had not used it. Those were the facts and they did make her feel like a hypocrite for going at Jacko like a bull after a red flag. Well, you never laid claim to sainthood.
Thorin's amusement had yet to abate. 'Notes are old-fashioned?' It was how they communicated when one of them was not where they would normally be at any given time.
'In Erebor not so much,' Kate replied easily. 'Here? Definitely. You've seen how we communicate here.' It went without saying that he did not like it. There wasn't any need to state the obvious.
Although she might make an exception in her brother's case. Her mother would be too relieved to tell him the truth, but Kate had no such reservations.
It was however not Jacko who walked into the kitchen a few moments later.
'Laura?' Kate's jaw dropped. Running an errand? Collecting her lifelong friend more like.
'Hey there, Kate.'
Laura had not changed, not one bit. It was a bit unnerving really. A bit more mature perhaps, but that was only expected. And even then, one should probably take care to stress the bit in that previous sentence.
The next moment she was all but lifted off her feet and crushed in a hug whilst cringing at the volume of delighted laughter penetrating her left ear. 'Good to see you!' she exclaimed. 'Bloody hell, Kate, I'd never expect to see you again.'
'You might not if you won't let me breathe soon,' Kate reminded her. Being friends with Laura had always been easy. It had never once gotten awkward or uncomfortable between them. That being such a difficult thing to come by these days, she was all the more thrilled to find out that apparently the eight years of not seeing each other, of not even being on the same planet, had not changed that.
Laura let her go and held her at arm's length. 'You weren't joking about that scar on your face.'
Kate rolled her eyes. 'You're looking good too, by the way.'
'Why, thank you.'
'Really, why am I friends with you again?' she asked in mock exasperation.
'Because I'm a wonder and a delight and you love me for it,' Laura immediately responded. 'And I feed your cat.'
That effectively side-tracked her. 'He's still alive?' Fidget had been four years old when she got stranded in Middle Earth, so she hadn't dared to hope he would still be alive. 'Good on him.'
'Mind you, he's still bringing home mice and birds and then expects me to congratulate him on a job well done.' Laura wrinkled her nose in disgust, but she could not hide the affection underlying the remark. Oh, you've grown fond of him, all right. 'You should have taught him to at least kill them before he drags them in, you know.'
'Yeah, that didn't work out,' Kate agreed. 'You really look well, you know.'
'So do you.' She did sound sincere this time. 'Life in Middle Earth must suit you. Haven't run out of people to shout at yet?'
Kate aimed a hit at her head, which missed. 'How many times do I have to tell you I don't thrive on conflict?'
'At least a hundred times more,' Laura informed her sunnily.
She had that annoying grin on her face that said you know very well that I am right and you are wrong. Trouble was, Kate knew she was at least half-right. She did not thrive on conflict, but neither did she avoid it and a battle of wits and words had always been right up her street. And of course her best friend would remember that. She could hardly expect any different.
'Well, aren't you going to introduce me to your husband?' she asked.
Kate sent her a warning glance; Laura wasn't quite the screaming in glee type of fangirl, but neither did she hide that she could obsess over books and movies. She kept it within reason generally, but having a "fictional character" in the same room might cancel reason out of the equation entirely. 'Behave,' she ordered. 'Also, my husband. And I'm the jealous type.'
Thorin and Laura looked both thoroughly surprised to learn it.
'Well, it's not as if girls are throwing themselves at your feet, so there's not much cause to show it now, is there?' she defended herself. Good grief, was he smiling? Well, smirking more than smiling, but it amounted to the same thing. 'Anyway, Thorin, this is my best friend Laura Porter. It is still Porter, right?'
Laura nodded. 'Not for long, though. I'm getting married in three weeks.'
'Congratulations then.' Kate made a mental note to make sure she attended the wedding. She owed Laura that at the very least. 'And Laura, this is Thorin. I'm sure you'll get along very well. And if she chatters too much, you can block her out.'
Laura arched an eyebrow. 'That's what you did, then?'
Kate shrugged. 'That would be telling.' Of course she never did, but they'd loved teasing one another. And it was always nice, never nasty. Kate had always been grateful for that. There had been enough nasty in her life as it was, and not nearly enough niceness. Her friends had always done their best to remedy that.
'Indeed,' Laura chuckled.
'Well, I'll leave you two to get acquainted. I'll need to have a few choice words with that empty-headed brother of mine.' It was a good thing she did not have the strength of a dwarf, or Jacko would find himself in dire need of a hospital within the hour. What in the world had he been thinking?
As it happened, there was no need to go and find her brother; he entered the kitchen, followed by her mother. Kate was sorely tempted to give him a piece of her mind all the same, never mind the audience, but her mother's subtle shake of the head made her change her mind. It probably could wait. Surprisingly, Jacko already looked a bit chastised, which could mean that their mum had finally been able to rile herself enough to make her displeasure known. Good for her.
'Tea,' she decreed and it was so British that it set Kate to smiling.
It should have been one of the most awkward moments in her life. Thorin by rights should have urges to flee the room, Jacko would be making unpleasant remarks and her mother would do the sad puppy eyes. But none of that happened. Laura helped with that. Unlike Kate, filling the silence with happy chatter came easy to her.
'You know what, the movies were a bit rubbish,' she declared. 'The Hobbit movies,' she clarified when Kate did not immediately follow. 'Especially when compared to your letters.'
It had been years since anyone had felt the need to discuss The Hobbit story with her. She had not even read the book since Lord Erland had gone insane and had taken off with his wealth into the wilds, the last bit of book-truth that had actually come to pass. But she had once studied it so intensively that the knowledge had yet to disappear from her mind. It was always there at the tip of her fingers, ready when she needed to call on it. Of course she never had to these days, but it was there all the same.
'Not all the time,' she disagreed. 'I mean I only saw the first one, but that came true every now and then. Sometimes at the same time as the book, which was confusing.'
Laura's smile widened into a grin. 'Well, you never saw the second and the third. Didn't have much to do with the book, I can tell you that.'
Kate knew that this was an invitation to curiously inquire what exactly had been so different, but she wasn't going to take the bait. 'Neither did reality, for that matter.'
'Well, I was surprised you actually found out the name of the Master of Lake-town,' Laura nodded. 'You know, since he didn't have one in the book.'
She snorted. 'Of course he had a name. It's not Doctor Who; people don't go around calling themselves the Master. Sounds a bit pretentious, doesn't it?'
Laura rolled her eyes. 'You haven't seen that for eight years and you're still going on about it?' She looked at Thorin. 'Does she do that with you as well?'
Thorin looked like he did not quite know what to make of her – Kate suspected he was mentally counting the similarities between Laura and Thora and was rapidly running out of fingers and toes to count them on – but he was certainly polite, if a little formal. The joking mood had taken a hopefully temporary backseat. 'She does.' But the fact that he confirmed Laura's assumption had to count for something. He wouldn't do that if it was someone he truly could not stand.
Her friend barely acknowledged it. 'Well, like I said, the book doesn't give him a name. Nor does the movie. He's just fat and scheming and unpleasant.'
Kate snorted. 'Sounds like him, all right.'
'Of course, that is where the similarities pretty much end.' Laura sounded entirely too pleased, as if she knew that what she was about to say would not please the ones who'd hear it.
'Oh, for heaven's sake, get it over with.' Kate aimed a playful hit at her head. 'You know you want to.'
'Well. As a matter of fact, there was that scene where the orcs attacked Lake-town,' Laura began, instantly confirming what Kate already knew; she was having way too much fun and her audience wasn't.
'Beg pardon?' Kate knew for a fact that never happened.
Laura was on a roll now. 'And according to the movies, Kíli had a thing with that Tauriel girl.'
Drinking tea had not been one of her better ideas, for she almost choked on it. Never mind that no one in their right mind brought up Kíli in such a casual way around Thorin, especially when he hardly knew them, but even not considering that, the concept itself was utterly bewildering. As far as Kate knew, Kíli and Tauriel had not even really known each other. They might have known the other by face, but that was as deep as the acquaintance ran. Romance surely did not come into it.
'Please tell me you're joking!' She'd lamented more than once that Gandalf had taken her away before all three movies had been released, but it seemed now that maybe the wizard had known what he was doing all along, because from what Laura was telling her, the last two would have had very little to offer in the way of actual advice.
Laura cheerfully assured her that she was not and went on to tell her that, if the movies could be believed, the company had found the side door within a day of leaving Lake-town – and how that was possible with distances being what they were Kate would very much like to know – and that the company had attempted to more or less drown the dragon in gold – which quite proved that at least the movie-versions of the company members were quite insane. By the end of it, Kate was quite ready to switch to coffee.
'And I did wonder, because you never mentioned in your letters, does Dáin really ride a pig instead of a pony?' her friend finished.
'Come again?' They must have been drunk when they thought that one up. On second thought, they must have been drunk a disturbingly long time if that actually made it to the big screen. Of course, it was a movie. Kate knew this. It had nothing to do with reality. She knew that too. Still, so many other things that should have had nothing to do with reality had happened. She really should not take it personally. 'No, he thinks that a pony is sufficient. How would one even go about riding a pig? It must be very uncomfortable.' Now that her initial shock had subsided a little, she could almost picture it. But it would look laughable and it was unthinkable that anyone wishing to see the next day would ridicule Dáin. He was not one to be trifled with, she knew that.
Thorin had not enjoyed the talk as much either. His brow was furrowed in a frown that had been known to send recalcitrant envoys searching for an excuse to get away as quickly as possible. And he had gone all silent and brooding, too, which was decidedly bad news. Of course, Laura had been focusing her attention on Kate, so naturally she hadn't noticed, but Kate knew better. And she knew that look. The sooner she could get the conversation onto a different topic, the better it would be.
'Imagine that, Gandalf might have known what he was doing when he abducted me after the first movie, after all,' she said, giving voice to the thought she'd had just before.
It had been quite the wrong thing to say. The silence that followed her words made her realise that she had just brought up her abduction in a more or less positive way when to most people around the table it had been anything but. Well, shit.
It was already far too late to save face. She'd said it; there was no taking it back. And at least it had been honest. Now it was for certain that she had been hanging around dwarves for far too long. Even so, dancing around a subject had never been her strongest point. Beating around the bush was for liars and politicians.
'You know what I mean,' she muttered. 'In my role as company advisor it wouldn't have been helpful to know about the other movies.' And for Durin's sake, stop looking at me like I've kicked your puppy.
Naturally it was Jacko who took it upon himself to reply. 'Well, that's just the thing, isn't it? You just forgot what it meant to us.'
'I didn't.' How could she? How could he think that she ever could? 'I just talk before I think, that's all. And that's nothing new.' She had done that since she had learned how to talk. And her brother should know that better than anyone.
Jacko barrelled on as if she had not spoken at all. 'You just don't get it, do you? We were searching for you for months, even after the police had more or less given up because they were at their wit's end. We did appeals on the telly, we distributed more posters with your face on it than I can count. Dad even hired a private detective, who of course couldn't find you either, but…'
'Hang on, did you say dad?' she interrupted. He couldn't have, could he? As far as she was aware, Jacko had cut their father out of his life completely and couldn't care less about it. There was no way that he would ever willingly contact the man. In the end, Kate had agreed with him of course, but it had taken her a long time to get there and even then she couldn't summon up the complete disinterest her brother displayed. She'd rather settle for anger instead.
'Yeah, he helped,' he admitted. 'Wasted lots of money on it too.'
Kate frowned. 'Hang on, are you on speaking terms again?' Her twin's silence was all the confirmation she needed, even when it made no sense at all. 'What is this? A parallel universe where our father by some miracle isn't the biggest bastard known to man?' And people never changed that much. Of course they changed little bits, but her father would have needed several lifetimes to get from utter prick to a halfway decent human being.
'Surprising enough it was your disappearance that made him sit up and pay attention.' Stranger still, Jacko was on the defensive. 'He was the one who hired the private detective.'
'You said.' It also explained exactly nothing in her opinion.
'He cares, Kate.' Yes, that was definitely his defensive tone. What the hell was going on here? 'No one did more to find you than he did.'
'If about ten years too late,' she retorted. 'Don't you think it odd that he just abandons us, disappears entirely and then tries to get back into your good graces again the moment it looks as though he might become a suspect?' She had really been doing too much politics lately. That did not mean she was necessarily wrong, though.
'Do you have to think the worst of people right away?' he complained. Great, pouting. And here she was hoping he had outgrown that after puberty.
'I find that in my line of work it generally works,' she answered. Especially in her dealings with Thranduil and cronies. Since she put them in the same mental box as her father, the same treatment in her mind more than sufficed. 'And you ought to know better.'
'You haven't seen him for well over a decade,' Jacko pointed out and were they really fighting over their father of all people? This was beyond ridiculous. Jacko should be the last one to fight his corner.
'I don't need to.'
'Too bad. I called him. He's on his way.'
Time seemed to freeze. 'He's what?'
And will you look at that, progress at last. Some of it anyway.
Next time: reunion.
As always, thank you for taking the time to read this monstrosity. Reviews would be most welcome.