Here's the new chapter, as promised.
This is the start of a new multi-chapter project and it's something rather different from what I've done so far, but this little idea has been demanding my attention for a while now and I thought I might as well go ahead and write it. Technically it's a crossover with Jasper Fforde's Thursday Next series. If you don't know it, I can highly recommend it.
If you're not familiar with it, don't worry. I'll give you the basics. Imagine that there is this whole world, the BookWorld, on the other side of the pages of every book. It looks like an enormous library filled with every book in existence, twenty-six floors above the ground with published books and twenty-six basement levels where books (and characters) are constructed, called the Well of Lost Plots. In this AU, The Journal is a published story in the BookWorld. Within those books the characters live/play out the story, almost like actors in a film. That is, if all is going well…
Of course, this being a story about Thorin and Kate, not all is going well. Obviously.
Lengthy author's note over. Enjoy!
Chapter 36
The Oakenshield Affair AU Part 1: One of Our Thorins Is Missing
Kate was not entirely sure what made her come back to the world of the waking in the end. It could not have been the light, because when she opened her eyes there hardly was any. There was more light than there had been – not that it could be less – but still everything and everyone was painted in greys and blacks. But at least she could see something again and that was a relief, more than she felt ready admitting to anyone.
For a little moment she felt disorientated. Her neck was hurting because… No, hold on a moment. There was no pillow…
Kate
It was a very unpleasant surprise to find that when she woke up, Kate's husband was missing. This would not usually be cause for any alarm, but the second part of chapter 36 was about to start and he was supposed to be there. After all, when Kate's own point of view began, her head was supposed to be lying on his lap. Her head was on the ground now.
A quick study of her surroundings revealed that she hadn't merely slipped off during the night. Thorin was not here.
She only briefly entertained the notion that he'd gone off to do something else between the end of his own point of view and the start of hers, but dismissed it almost right away. Thorin was a professional, as she was. Sneaking off during work was not the mark of an A-grade character, which they both were.
She sat up and surveyed the scene. It was hard to see anything in the dark of Mirkwood, but she was ninety-five per cent certain that everybody else was still asleep, as they were written to be. So far, so good. Except usually Dwalin was awake at this point. He was supposed to be watching her, which would lead to a conversation between the two of them in a couple of paragraphs. But Dwalin was passed out on the forest floor.
This is not good.
Kate Andrews considered herself something of an expert on books and what could and could not be changed. It was the way she was written and one of the reasons Jurisfiction had approached her about joining, an offer she'd accepted without a moment's hesitation. After all, there were well over sixty years between her written wedding and the moment she died and very little of it was documented. She had to fill that time somehow.
She was good at her job. So she knew that whatever it was that had happened between the line breaks of chapter 36, it was not boding well for the story.
She got up and roused Dwalin.
'What time's it?' he asked, speech slurring. There was a bruise on his left temple.
'Thorin's gone,' she reported. There was no time for beating around the bush. 'And I think you were knocked out.' Though probably not by Thorin himself. That would have made no sense.
It was the quickest way to wake him up. 'Where is he?' Dwalin was on his feet almost immediately. 'The next part is about to begin.'
'I know,' she replied. At this point in the story she was not really supposed to get on well with Dwalin yet, but they had been through the story many times now and they had become good friends. And as long as they observed the proper behaviour when they were being read, none of the readers would be any the wiser.
But readers would certainly know something was wrong if they didn't sort this mess out before the narrative started, so acting quickly was of the essence.
'I'll go and get us moved to the Well of Lost Plots,' she said. It was not an ideal solution, but it would have to do for the time being. At the very least it would give them some time to figure out what had happened.
And, more importantly, where Thorin had disappeared to. There was an unpleasant niggling in the area of her stomach. It felt a little like dread.
Dwalin frowned. 'What about the readers?'
'They'll find something else to read.' They weren't her biggest concern right now. The BookWorld was massive; there was more than enough to choose from. And if they wanted fanfiction, well, there was plenty of that too. 'And without Thorin, there isn't much of a story anyway.'
'And the ones already reading?' Dwalin asked.
'They'll suddenly remember that they have an essay due or a grandmother they haven't visited for far too long or a cat that needs immediate feeding. Or they lose their Internet connection all of a sudden. Something like that. They won't be able to find the story once the Text Grand Central moves it.' Say what you like about them, but they were thorough.
Dwalin did not seem very happy – then again, neither was Kate – but it was the best she could do for now. Of course, it would actually help if people took her seriously. After all, The Journal, Duly Noted and The Book were only works of fanfiction. They were the black sheep of the BookWorld; people were forced to accept that they were there, but they would very much prefer to pretend they didn't exist. It wasn't until Kate started waving her Jurisfiction badge in their faces that they adopted something approaching a helpful attitude. Of course, at that stage Kate was about ready to strangle each and every one of them.
This mission completed, she read herself into Sense and Sensibility to brief the rest of the Jurisfiction agents, who had their headquarters in Norland Park.
'Good morning, Kate!' called Commander Bradshaw. 'How are you?'
'Could be better,' she replied. In fact, it couldn't be much worse.
'I heard your series got moved to the Well,' he said, completely missing Kate's actual mood. 'You up for maintenance?'
'You could say that,' she said. 'Thorin's disappeared.'
'Your Thorin?' Bradshaw asked. It was a justified question; with the amount of Hobbit fanfiction out there, there were a great many Thorins in the BookWorld today, though granted, there weren't many high-quality ones.
Kate nodded. 'I have no idea what happened,' she confessed. 'He vanished between the line breaks of chapter 36. Dwalin was knocked out when I woke up and Thorin was just gone.'
Up till now the panic had been remarkably absent. The immediate crisis of having a story without its main character had taken precedence. It had been easier to focus her efforts on that and the obstinate morons at the Text Grand Central had made it all too easy to bypass her fears and head straight on to anger.
The fear was settling in comfortably now. Where was he? Was he all right? Unharmed? Alive? How would she ever find him again? Her hands started to shake, so she clenched them into fists and shoved them in her pockets so that nobody would see.
'I thought you might have gotten swept up in that grammasite infestation,' Mrs Tiggy-Winkle remarked. 'It's a dreadful business, with so many works affected.'
Kate shook her head. 'It's over in the slash section of the Lord of the Rings fandom.' It had kept her busy all hours lately. Fanfiction always needed more resources, but because it was only fanfiction, they weren't anyone's main priority. As per bloody usual.
'Well, at least most people can't tell the difference.'
And with attitudes like that, nothing would ever change.
But as far as Kate was concerned, the whole slash section and its grammasites could go hang. She had more pressing concerns.
'That's not the point,' she said impatiently. 'Thorin has disappeared without a trace. He's not anywhere in the series at the moment.'
'PageRunner?' somebody suggested. It was a good thing Kate couldn't see who had spoken; she might have ripped their heads off and damn the consequences.
Even so, she sent a withering glare in the general direction of the speaker. 'Have you met Thorin?' she growled. 'He's a professional. This is not his style.'
Besides, if he wanted to leave his own series, he could. While he was not a Jurisfiction agent as Kate was, he often accompanied her on official business. They worked well together and Kate would sooner go on a mission with him than with Emperor Zhark, for example. It wasn't entirely legal, but it was conveniently overlooked because she got results that way.
'I am not entirely sure what you mean, Kate,' Commander Bradshaw said.
Neither was she, but she was starting to have a theory. Because if Thorin hadn't left of his own volition – and that was extremely unlikely – that must mean that he had been taken by somebody.
And unfortunately, there was a precedent for that.
Kate took a deep breath and shared it with her colleagues. 'I'm sure you all remember Jane Eyre being taken from her own book and held to ransom,' she said.
Judging by the shocked looks she received, everybody did.
'The Written Word is not Jane Eyre,' a dismissive voice said. Kate knew it well. It belonged to George Warleggan, from the Poldark series. He had been written as a pompous little prick and never failed to act accordingly, even outside his own series. He never let the opportunity pass to lord it over her that he, unlike her, came from published original fiction. It had been a trial to shut him up once he found out that his series was due for a boxed set. 'It is only an inferior work of fanfiction. Who would ever go to all that trouble to steal a pale imitation of the original when the real one is available as well?'
Needless to say, George did not have a good relationship with his fanfiction alter egos.
'Oh, I don't know, George,' Kate sneered sarcastically. Normally she tried to ignore him, but her nerves were frayed and the tides of panic were rising rapidly. 'Perhaps somebody who would like to see if their methods work.' Honestly, the fact that she had to explain this at all did not endear her to him. 'And if they do, they can move on to bigger and better, to works like Jane Eyre.'
So far, it was the only theory that made any sort of sense at all. Thorin was invaluable to her, but not to a great many others. After all, George was right; Kate's series were only fanfictions. The characters in those stories were better developed than some others she could name and they were still relatively well-read within their little corner of the world wide web. But they weren't on any bestseller lists and they would never have so much as a paperback on sale in a real book shop. And George was always first in line to remind her.
She had lost her temper with him only once. He had made another patronising remark and she had turned around and told him that he only acted that way because he was jealous that she, unlike him, was happily married without the complications of a spouse's first love hanging around.
George had almost had a stroke.
Kate had felt rather smug.
'It is possible,' Commander Bradshaw admitted. 'We don't want another disaster like that on our hands.'
'We already do,' Kate reminded him. It came out a little bit sharper than she had intended, but she'd had it with the inferior status of fanfictions. True, a good portion of that work was inferior, but the same was true for many published works. Fifty Shades of Grey was a name that sprang to mind.
'You think that somebody found a way into the BookWorld?' asked Beatrice, clearly shocked at the suggestion. Benedick was not in attendance today, which made communicating with her so much easier; usually they had a battle of wits which only the Bellman could put an end to before anything useful came out of their mouths.
'Or somebody from within the BookWorld with a penchant for kidnapping characters is at work here,' replied Kate. It wasn't unprecedented either and she had spent a solid three months on Heathcliff Protection Duty that had taught her precisely that lesson. 'I don't know and until we investigate, I'm not going to know. All I know is that somebody took him and I don't know where.'
'Kate is right,' Bradshaw said, coming to her rescue. 'Something is amiss.' He patted her fatherly on the shoulder. Normally Kate found this a little annoying, but today she needed the support. 'Kate, can you go and make the rounds around the Hobbit fandom and see if anybody else is missing a character?' She nodded and Bradshaw continued, sending Jurisfiction agents to the neighbouring fandoms and Tolkien's original works to see if anything odd had gone on there lately.
'Rotten luck,' a male voice commented when roll-call had ended and Kate was packing her bag near her own desk.
She turned around to see Vernham Deane. He had taken some years of absence after he'd gotten married following the plot realignment of his book The Squire of High Potternews, but claimed that since their readership had dropped somewhat - meaning that these days it was all but non-existent – there wasn't much for him to do in his own book and consequently, he had come back to Jurisfiction.
Kate had gotten more agitated with every minute and "rotten luck" really was something of an understatement. 'Just that, is it?' she snapped at him. 'Listen, Vern, I'm not in the mood for this. Can you just go?'
He didn't. 'We'll find him,' he said confidently.
'You know this how?' She really wasn't in the mood for this. And empty promises weren't going to bring Thorin back. She needed something more substantial.
'Because you would sooner tear down the whole BookWorld book by book rather than give him up,' Vernham replied easily. Kate liked him, generally. He'd moved heaven and earth to get the plot realignment that allowed him to marry the woman he loved, so he knew a thing or two about holding on in the face of adversity.
Perhaps she had been too harsh with him just now. 'Sorry, Vern. It's just…' She trailed off, because she didn't know how to put it into words.
Fortunately he knew. 'I know. We'll sort this out. And then we'll deal with the fiends who took him in the first place.'
'I would be happy to lend you my death-ray once we catch them,' another voice chimed in. Emperor Zhark loomed over Vern's shoulder.
Kate suppressed an exasperated sigh. Emperor Zhark was the lead in a series of cringe worthy science-fiction novels with an unfortunate tendency for annihilating entire star systems to make a point. Outside his books however he was a good Jurisfiction agent, albeit a little too eager for solving matters the violent way. Still, she appreciated the sentiment. 'Thanks, but I wouldn't want to destroy the entire Library to kill a few criminals.'
'I could get my hands on a few Eraserheads in a pinch,' Vernham pondered. 'Of course, it would be extremely careless of me to leave them lying around, but I could just be so busy with paperwork that I might take my eyes off them for a minute or two.' He gave Kate a meaningful look.
'Careful with what you're offering,' she warned him. It was highly illegal, but suddenly strangely appealing.
'You were helping me defeat the Rambosians when the criminals were shot,' Zhark suggested, providing her with an alibi she hadn't asked for.
Vern rolled his eyes. 'I don't think committing mass murder is going to help her case, Your Mercilessness.'
Zhark reconsidered. 'You were helping me prepare my defence for my court case,' he amended. What with slaughtering entire galaxies on a regular basis, he always had a pending court case, sometimes more than one at the same time. So far, not one judge had dared to convict him.
'I was offering some sound legal advice,' Vernham chimed in.
It was just the tiniest bit unsettling that neither of them appeared to be fooling around. They were completely serious.
Kate clenched her fists. 'You should not be making that kind of offer to me right now.'
'Why not?' Zhark asked, clearly unable to wrap his head around the idea that somebody could ever turn down the opportunity to torture, maim and kill.
'I might take you up on it.' If Thorin was found in anything other than the state she last saw him in, she might be in exactly the right mind-set for that kind of violence.
Thorin
Thorin woke up tied to a chair. It was not the way he liked to wake up. The pounding headache usually didn't figure into his ideal morning routine either. And the last thing he remembered was falling asleep in The Journal, midway through chapter 36, with Kate's head in his lap.
This was not Mirkwood. And Kate was nowhere to be found.
He did not believe he was even in The Journal anymore.
The room he was in was dimly lit and mostly empty. There were no windows, so he could not determine where he was, but the solitary light bulb hanging from the ceiling was more than enough to suggest that they had left both the Fanfiction and the Fantasy genre behind.
Comprehension came slowly but surely and he realised that he had been kidnapped. It was unexpected and almost without precedent. Almost. Everyone in the BookWorld had heard what had happened to Jane Eyre years ago, but as far as anybody knew, that had been the only time.
'Ah, you're awake. That's good.'
The voice came from somewhere behind him and he couldn't turn his head around far enough to get a good look at his captor. He could make out a tallish shape from the corner of his eye and the voice that belonged to it was definitely male.
'It speaks of cowardice to not look me in the face,' Thorin snarled. The more he started to understand the situation he was in, the angrier he became. It didn't help that none of this made any sense whatsoever. Jane Eyre being stolen had been an outrage, but one that could be understood. She could have been held to ransom. But Thorin was well aware that he was not the original Thorin and that made him far less valuable. The original was probably still safely in The Hobbit. So what would anybody want with him?
'I suspected you might be a bit cross, but you'll thank me in a minute,' the voice said.
Thorin seriously doubted that.
'If that is the case, why don't you untie me?' he demanded.
His captor ignored that. 'I've done you a favour,' he insisted. 'You're wasted in that worthless drivel of a fanfiction. We've seen it all before. Girl drops into Middle Earth, meets one of the lead characters, they get off on the wrong foot, end up seeing the other for "what they really are" and fall in love. Blah, blah, blah.'
It appeared that the man liked the sound of his own voice, which in turn led Thorin to suspect that he could be dealing with a classic villain, either B or A-grade; they were all rather prone to endless monologues and patting themselves on the back.
'Nobody writes any good Hobbit fanfictions anymore,' he went on. The tone of voice became decidedly more whinging. 'It's all romance and pining, badly written too. It'd be enough to make anyone want to bleach their eyes. And quite frankly, you were rather decently written, well worth salvaging.'
'Excuse me?' He could hardly believe his ears.
'You deserve a far better story than a useless romance. Hell, you probably deserve a medal for being stuck in that story, if you can even call it that. It's a good thing I managed to extract you before things got too serious between you and the girl you were supposed to be paired up with. Can't even remember her name. Not that it matters now.'
Thorin was very quiet for a moment while he processed that new information. 'You are an Outlander,' he said at last.
It happened, occasionally. Some people in the Real World were born with the ability to enter books, but they were usually recruited to Jurisfiction. There were only two agents from the Real World with Jurisfiction at present and both of them were women. So who in Durin's name was this?
He had shocked the man into temporary silence. 'What makes you think that?' There was a defensive tone in his voice, which told Thorin he had reached the right conclusions.
'Because only Outlanders have memories that are so linear,' he replied.
They moved steadily from start to finish, with no option to skip either ahead or backwards. That was a strange concept in the BookWorld. Thorin could experience his own death today and attend his wedding tomorrow, and do the same the day after that if he so chose. As long as it was written, he could live it. Granted, he needed to be inside his own book for that to be possible and he wasn't, not now. He struggled against the ropes that bound him, but they did not give way.
'I demand to be returned to my book and to my wife,' he commanded when his captor did not utter any sort of response.
He snorted in annoyance. 'Blimey, mate, cut it out. She isn't your wife, not at the point where I took you from. That wasn't supposed to happen until chapter 95 and that's not ever going to happen now.'
Thorin had just told him that his memories did not function the same way and yet the fool still insisted he knew better. And he did not suffer fools lightly, especially not when they had abducted him.
'You have made a grave mistake,' Thorin said. Much as he did not want to be here, he also knew that his stay was unlikely to be indefinite.
'Which is?'
'My wife is with Jurisfiction,' Thorin informed him. Knowing Kate, she would have the whole BookWorld on full alert by now. 'She will track you down.'
The man scoffed. 'She couldn't do anything to me,' he said. 'I read enough to know that she is not a fighter.'
If he meant that Kate was not very skilled in the wielding of a sword, then he was absolutely right. However, that did not mean that she was a hopeless case with each and every weapon. The narrative of The Journal unfortunately didn't allow any room for the use of a gun. If that had been the case, this Outlander might not have underestimated her. And either way, swords were all good and well, but they were not usually the deciding factor in the BookWorld.
And so Thorin laughed. 'But you are in the BookWorld now,' he said. 'And here the pen is always mightier than the sword.'
The silence from behind him was deafening.
Kate
'Well, thanks for your help,' Kate said to another fanfiction Bilbo before she read herself back into the Library. This was the fifty-sixth story she had been in today and in every single one she had been told the same thing: every character that was supposed to be there was present and correct and not a single odd thing had happened in forever.
It was utterly disheartening.
Of course, it was good news in the sense that the damage was likely to be contained to Kate's own series. It also meant that there were no witnesses, no leads and very little hope of picking up Thorin's trail.
'Damn them all to bloody hell!' she growled, kicking the table in frustration.
She felt like she was wasting her time with this. Then again, she couldn't exactly think of a more productive thing to do either. And all the while she was busy here not getting results, Thorin was out there somewhere. And whoever had taken him was unlikely to have just invited him round for tea and biscuits.
'Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd,' a cackling voice announced behind her.
Really? Kate hadn't thought it was possible for this day to get any worse, but the addition of the three witches from Macbeth was not exactly an improvement.
The second witch carried on: 'Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined.'
'Harpier cries: - 'tis time, 'tis time.' And the third completed it.
The witches were mostly harmless. They left their book from time to time to make a little extra cash on the side by peddling prophecies, with varying measures of disaster as a result. Granted, it was known that their prophecies always turned out to be true, but whether that was because of their powers or people making them come true on their own – and just look what they had done to poor Macbeth – that was still somewhat unclear.
'By the pricking of my thumb, something wicked this way comes,' she remarked sarcastically as she turned around, whipping out her Jurisfiction badge. 'Peddling prophecies again, ladies? May I see your license?'
The witches, who could very convincingly pretend to be half-deaf when it suited them, came closer.
'Prophecies, kind lady?' the first witch asked. ''t Will only cost a shilling.'
'I don't go around carrying spare change when I'm on Jurisfiction business,' Kate told them brusquely. Part of her longed to ask about Thorin, where he was kept and if he was still alive. But even she knew better than to get involved with these three. Trouble always followed in their wake and she had more than enough of that already.
They ignored her.
'All hail, Kate Andrews! Hail to thee, agent of Jurisfiction!' cried the first witch.
That death-ray of Zhark's would have come in handy right about now. Kate did not have the patience for this today. 'Everyone in the BookWorld knows that. Now, clear off.'
But the witches weren't done. 'All hail, Kate Andrews! Hail to thee, Queen under the Mountain!' the second witch added.
'I already knew that as well. Now, are you going away on your own or do you need me to come back with a warrant for your arrest?' She wasn't sure what charge she'd put on it. Obstructing the course of justice? Unlawfully preventing a Jurisfiction agent from doing her work? There were so many stories she had yet to go through and here she was, listening to the endless prattle of the witches.
'All hail, Kate Andrews!' the third witch exclaimed. 'Thou shalt be Bellman hereafter!'
'The Bellman isn't due to retire for another eight years.' If she strangled the three of them now, would she be able to get away with it? 'And try your luck on a more gullible fool. I'm not Macbeth; I've no intention of killing the current Bellman to take his position. Now, sod off!'
'Double, double toil and trouble; fire, burn; and cauldron, bubble!' the three of them chanted.
Realising there was no easy way to get rid of them, Kate selected the next fanfiction on the shelf, pulled it out and opened it. She was experienced enough that she didn't need to read the words out loud in order to bookjump. All she had to do was concentrate and ignore the witches.
Sure enough, the Library disappeared and she found herself on the shores of the Long Lake just as the company and the resident OC came crawling out of their barrels. The chapter was still in progress, so she waited until it had finished before she approached them.
'Kate Andrews, Jurisfiction,' she announced to the nearest dwarf, Kíli in this case.
'We don't see one of your sort around very often,' he said, studying her badge.
'Good,' Kate said. 'You only usually see us when you've done something wrong or when there's any sort of problem with your story.'
Kíli snorted. 'This story has more than enough problems, if you ask me.' He sent a not so subtle look of disdain in the direction of the OC, who was all over his brother. 'You'd need a dozen holesmiths to fix all the plotholes in this piece of shit.' He gave Kate an interested look. 'Are we up for maintenance anytime soon, do you know?'
Kate smiled apologetically. 'Not my area, I'm afraid. You'll need to take that up with the Council of Genres.'
'Worth a try,' he shrugged. 'What brings you here, Agent Andrews?'
So Kate explained.
'A character, stolen?' he repeated incredulously when she was done. 'Like Jane Eyre?' Even in this backwater they knew about that, even though it had been decades ago.
'We don't know yet.' That was the diplomatic answer. Unfortunately it was also the truth. 'What we are trying to find out is if there have been any more incidents like this.'
Predictably, Kíli shook his head. 'No, everybody is still here. Though I wouldn't mind if we lost her,' he added, indicating the OC.
Kate couldn't blame him. She looked like she was in her early twenties and she was far prettier than any woman had any right to be. Unfortunately she was also extremely clingy and clearly hadn't been at the front of the queue when the intelligence had been handed out. To be honest, she looked like she had a far lower rating than was recommended for a leading character.
'C-grade?' she asked.
'C-8,' Kíli confirmed.
She cringed inwardly. That was even worse than she'd thought. 'What's she doing in a leading role?' Kate asked. C-grades usually were the small speaking parts, a few lines at most. They simply did not have the emotional depth to carry the leading role, which would go some way in explaining the quality of this story, come to think of it.
Kíli grimaced. 'Budget cuts.'
Kate winced sympathetically. 'Tell me about it.' Fanfiction was notoriously underfunded. No matter what she did, that hadn't changed yet. It probably wasn't likely to any time either.
'Couldn't we just… Well, you know, do something about her?' Kíli asked, still looking at the simpering blonde who was clutching Fíli's arm. Fíli himself did not seem to mind her; he looked at her with pure adoration. He couldn't help it; he was written that way.
'I would advise against that,' Kate told him sternly. 'That'd be a Fiction Infraction and they really don't like that up at the Council of Genres. You'd be arrested and reduced to text, worst case scenario. And I might have to be the one doing the arresting.'
He was nothing if not optimistic. 'And the best case scenario?'
'A story of this calibre without its main character would be dismantled and auctioned off in parts, those parts that can still be used anyway.' There wouldn't be many from what she could see. 'The same for the characters. You'd either be auctioned off or if there was no use for you, you'd be reduced to text. I really wouldn't risk it, if I were you.'
He sighed, resigned to his fate.
'You could always sign up for the Character Exchange Programme if you want a change of scenery,' she suggested, trying to soften the blow that way. 'You wouldn't be the first.'
Kíli thanked her from the bottom of his heart, shaking her hand to express how much that opportunity would mean to him. It took thirty-seven words before he was done and Kate could ask her other question.
'Have you seen anything odd around here lately perhaps?'
'Odd?' asked Kíli. 'How do you mean?'
'Anything out of the ordinary,' Kate explained. 'Details that are different from how they usually are, people you don't recognise. That sort of odd.'
'Oh, well, then yes,' Kíli replied. 'There was this fellow a few days ago, in Mirkwood. Now that you mention it, he was behaving a little strangely.'
This was the very first time she had gotten even the smallest bit of success. Of course, it could still be a PageRunner – there were several on the Jurisfiction wanted list – hiding out in a place where people would not quickly look.
'Can you describe him to me?' she asked.
He did. The stranger had been tall, definitely a man, with longish fair hair and freckles. 'Freckles?' Kate asked. 'You're sure?' That kind of detail was usually only seen in B or A-grade characters. Or in Outlanders, she thought, but it seemed wiser to keep that thought to herself.
'He had a fair amount of detail,' Kíli nodded. 'There was a tear in his shirt and his boots were looking like he'd gone to give them a scrub but lost patience halfway.'
Bloody hell. If it wasn't an Outlander, then it was almost certainly an A-grade. Only they would ever have that much detail written in. And there wasn't an A-grade on the PageRunner list at the moment.
'Listen, would you mind coming back to Norland Park with me and repeat that statement to my colleagues?' Kate asked. It was the best lead she'd found so far – not to mention the only lead – and her colleagues would need to know.
Kíli favoured her with an incredulous look. 'Do I want to get out of this book for a time? You are joking, aren't you?'
Then again, if she had been in his shoes, she would have been keen to leave as well.
'Follow me.'
I'm really rather nervous about this whole thing, so any feedback you could give me would be very, very much appreciated. Is it any good, is it rubbish? Should I continue, delete it? Do please let me know.
Next time: Kate's search continues, while Thorin is trying to figure out what has happened to him and why.
Thank you very much for reading!