Chapter 29

Into the Past Part 3: Hard Truths

You know, the very powerful and the very stupid have one thing in common. They don't alter their views to fit the facts, they alter the facts to fit their views, which can be uncomfortable if you happen to be one of the facts that needs altering.

Doctor Who

Thorin

No.

That thought took up residence in Thorin's head and repeated itself over and over again. It was the only thought he was capable of, because everything else had come to a sudden standstill. And he could only watch.

He had no real memory of his father being this young, without quite so much grey in his hair. But other than that he was exactly like the last time Thorin had looked on him. It made it that much harder to separate this dwarf from the dwarf he would become, the one Thorin both fiercely despised and desperately longed for.

No.

But here he was. And nothing that had caused such complicated feelings in Thorin had taken place yet. Thráin had done nothing yet to warrant the anger, the grief, the powerlessness. This was the beginning of the story. And still, Thorin was unable to see anything other than the father who had failed him.

His grandfather did not seem to be in any way aware of what was happening right under his nose. 'What brings you to my doorstep this early in the morning?' he asked, then backtracked. 'Wait, you had breakfast yet? There's plenty to go around. Pull up a chair and join us!'

No.

It was one thing to know that somewhere under this Mountain Thráin existed. Thorin knew that in this time his father yet lived and breathed, blissfully unaware of the tragedy that would be visited upon them, that which in turn caused his own fall. But if he had made any plans at all, they had involved hiding until the wizard had been found. It was hard enough being around his grandparents, but at least the memories he had of them were mainly positive. He would not have to pretend that he cared about them, that he missed them. But he was no elf that he could put on display an emotion he did not feel. Nor could he hide those that he experienced.

'It seems you have visitors,' Thorin's father observed. The sentence hadn't been a question, but it was clearly intended as one. He looked at Thorin and his brow furrowed in puzzlement. Thorin clenched his hand into a fist under the table and forced himself to meet his gaze.

Thráin's stare was as uncomfortable and penetrating as he remembered it, always disapproving no matter what he saw. Thorin recalled always striving to make it give way to some sort of approval, maybe even pride, but that had always been beyond him. Frerin and Dís had made him smile sometimes, but Thorin never had. And he had searched his memory long and hard for it. You disappoint me. Those were the only words of Thráin's that Thorin could recall with perfect clarity, as vivid now as all the times they were spoken.

'Have we met?' Thráin asked. The tone of voice was more suspicious than curious. That too was nothing new.

'In a manner of speaking,' Freya said. 'Thráin, darling, I think it would be for the best if you sat down for this conversation.'

'I'm no man that I would drop into a faint at the first bad news.' He looked pointedly at Kate, who equally pointedly ignored him. 'Amad, whatever is going on?'

'Sit down, lad,' Thrór invited. 'I get pain in my neck having to look up at you, and we'll be here for a while.' In a strange way this reminded Thorin of how Kate would get things done. If his way – stubbornly insisting it should be done the way he wanted it – failed, she'd somehow present said way as the most practical manner in which a thing should be accomplished. And folk mainly obliged.

Thráin did not. 'I'm not accustomed to discussing sensitive business in front of men, and their women. Not even when they have been given a place at your breakfast table.'

This was odd. Thorin recalled that his father had never been particularly fond of men even before their exile. He found them lacking in every area compared to dwarves. But he had no recollection of him ever being so vehement and outspoken about his disgust for them in the days before Smaug came and made them homeless. Had he simply been too young to remember? Had he been shielded from the less pleasant sides of his father? That could well be possible. Erebor had thick walls that could conceal and hide. There had been no such luxury on the road.

And the anger reared its ugly head, as it always did when Kate came under attack. 'I would advise you to speak with more respect about my wife,' he said. It took considerable effort not to snarl the words.

Thráin seemed taken aback by this. 'Excuse me?'

Over the years he had often wondered what his family would have thought about his choice of bride, had they lived to see that day. And Thorin had always firmly believed that he would have displeased his father. And this had caused discomfort, because for some reason that made no sense to him, his approval was the one thing he had never been able to stop himself craving, no matter how unobtainable it was, no matter what had happened.

But that longing died. It died quick and easy. Had his grandparents expressed any sort of scepticism, it might have put up more of a fight, but they had not. No, the first one here to criticise was his father. And all of a sudden his opinion no longer mattered.

'You will not speak in that manner about my wife,' he repeated. 'For I would make you give answer for it if you did not.' As he would any other who presumed it was their right to speak so derisively about the woman he had wed.

Opposite him he could see Kate's eyebrow jump up almost to her hairline. Why would she be surprised at all? They had been in similar situations before and Thorin had never failed to defend her. Yes, it was from his father that he attempted to shield her now, but surely she knew she mattered far more to him than he did?

'Sit down, Thráin,' Freya repeated. The tone of voice gave away that she had been somewhat taken aback by Thorin as well. Perhaps his words had been spoken in a more heated manner than he had intended.

He obliged at last. 'What in Durin's name is going on here?' he demanded. 'I have never met this fellow or his wife before, yet you allow them to tell me my business in your home. I assume there is a good explanation for this.'

Of course there was. Thorin was just very relieved he was not called upon to give it. His grandmother was by far the best suited to explain the matter. She even managed to make it sound as though it was not the strangest thing that had ever taken place in Erebor. Thráin listened to it, frown ever deepening as the story got told.

'You believe this?' he demanded of Thrór when Freya fell silent at last.

'No reason not to,' Thrór replied easily.

Thorin remembered this aspect of his grandfather before the illness only too well. There were times when it seemed as if nothing could faze him. He could take anything in his stride and keep on going. But then Freya had died and the illness had overtaken him. And in that state he had been when Smaug had laid ruin to Erebor. And he had not recovered from that.

'No reason not to?' Thráin boomed. 'How could you ever believe it in the first place? It's beyond far-fetched. Time travel? Have you heard of such a thing before?'

Thrór shrugged. 'There are stories, aren't there? They have to come from somewhere, I reckon. Besides, look at him. Looks like you, looks like Theyra. Stands to reason he has to be your lad, with the way he looks.'

Thráin looked at him again. Thorin did not look away, though it took a lot of strength not to. Now that the anger had been given the time to reside, he could feel the emotions warring within him again. How many times had he wished for a second chance, a chance to make things right, to say goodbye properly at the very least? He had lost count long ago. And now his prayers had been answered at last, but nothing like the way he had imagined it. He could see now that he had wished for something he did not fully understand.

Thráin laughed a humourless laugh. 'If that is my son, then I should believe that he has chosen to wed this woman.' He looked from Thorin to Kate and back again. 'No son of mine would ever dream of marrying one of that race.'

'But I did,' Thorin said, taking care to keep his voice calm and steady. He had to speak, because Kate was quiet. Normally when someone voiced sentiments like this, she fought them off with words. And she was strong, so strong. She had never been known to remain silent when she was attacked in such a way. Thorin knew her well, so he knew how to read her silence now.

Kate was not thought to be a gentle or considerate woman by many. Truth be told, she generally wasn't. But she made allowances for him and those she knew he cared for. For them she would bite her tongue to stop herself from verbally reducing them to rubble. She did not do it for them, but rather out of concern and respect for him.

And he wished she didn't. Thráin had lost all right to such consideration long ago.

'And you have no right to judge,' he added.

'But apparently I am your father,' Thráin countered, still more than a little disbelieving, though Thorin thought that the doubts were disappearing quickly. 'Of all people, I should be able to tell you that you made a mistake, even if your grandparents apparently shirk that responsibility. What were you thinking, boy, marrying a mannish girl? Are you mad?'

The blow landed and punched the air clean out of his lungs. Thráin could not know what that accusation meant and he could never tell him. With a sudden certainty he knew that Thráin would not leave a stone unturned to change the future if he were given the knowledge Thorin and Kate possessed. And he could not allow that to happen. Because he would unwrite Kate and the children.

'Oi, back off!' Kate's eyes blazed with fury. 'You are his father, no doubts about that, but that doesn't mean you get a free pass to call him every dirty name under the sun.'

She now had Thráin's undivided attention. 'You have no business speaking here, woman.' He was back on his feet.

'Oh, I really do.' Kate got up as well. 'Because like it or not, Thorin is my husband and I really couldn't care less if you're his father, the King under the Mountain or Durin the Deathless himself. And if you think I am just going to sit here twiddling my thumbs while you're having a go at him, you had better think again. Now, back the hell off.'

Some of the tension melted out of Thorin's body as at last one thing became what it always was. Silence had never suited Kate. He rose to his feet, gave her the briefest of reassuring smiles and wrapped an arm around her waist in a very public show of support. No, a show was the wrong word; it suggested pretence. And Thorin meant his every action.

This course of action brought him eye level with his father. He looked at him, looked for the smallest hint of affection. He came up empty. It was not there. He liked to think that perhaps it had existed. After all, fathers loved their sons. It was the way of the world. Thorin would no more know how to stop loving his children than he would know how to stop his heart from beating. It stood to reason that Thráin had once felt the same way, before the world had gone so horribly wrong.

But there was nothing.

There were only words. 'You disappoint me.'

As Thráin turned and left, Thorin could only sink back into his chair. The room felt like ice.

Thráin

Impossible.

That was the first thought that came into Thráin's head when his mother explained the situation. There were so many impossible elements in her explanation that he did not rightly know where to begin. Time travel was the most obvious first on the list. True, as his father said, there were stories about that and all those stories had to get started somehow.

And he could not really keep disbelieving it, because then there was Thorin. He'd looked at him, like his father suggested, and that had decided the matter. There was something of Theyra about his mouth and the shape of his eyes. And he had her smile as well.

He might have missed the smile altogether if he had blinked, but it had been there and it had erased all the doubt from his mind. Anger and disappointment had very quickly taken its place when he realised that if all of this was true, then he had to believe what was said about the woman as well.

Impossible.

How had his own son sunk so low? Thráin had never liked men much, though they were their neighbours to the south. On no level could they ever hope to be the equal of the dwarves, yet this had never stopped them from believing themselves superior instead. There was no humility about them, even when they had so much to be humble about.

And sometime in the future one of that race would overreach herself and bind one of Durin's line to her. Given Thorin's age and the way he held himself, Thráin thought it more than likely that he was King under the Mountain by now. And so a mannish girl ruled by his side. Worse, she behaved as if she had every right to be here. There was no humility about her either.

Impossible.

How could his own son, his own flesh and blood, have ever consented to such a match? He could tell there were no political reasons involved. Thorin's hand had rested on the woman's waist as if it was meant to be there, as if it was a place it touched quite frequently. And the way he had smiled at her had left little room for doubts either.

Even if the woman was not a witch and had not bound him with an enchantment, Thorin should have shown better judgement. He was a King – presumably, granted – and his actions should be led by duty, not personal desires. And how any dwarf in his senses could ever desire a woman of the race of men was far beyond Thráin's comprehension.

He might have felt a measure of pity if Thorin had been addled in his wits, but it was becoming increasingly clear that he could lay claim to no such excuse. His words had been heated, but chosen with care. Admittedly Thráin had never seen madness up close, but he liked to think he could recognise it when confronted with it.

Impossible.

He found the way back to his own place by mere instinct alone. His feet knew the way and carried him to where he wanted to go. He had no recollection of the way home.

'You are back quickly,' Theyra observed when he closed the door behind him. 'Are your parents quite well?'

That was the reason he had gone to them so early. His father and to some extent his mother had been absent-minded during the meeting yesterday. It wasn't too out of character for his father. He could never be bothered about the business of court, no matter how often Thráin stressed that it was important. But his mother, though she had hidden it well, had been out of sorts as well. She had missed things she would usually notice straight away.

'They are well,' he replied brusquely. Physically there was nothing amiss with them. They had gone mad, if anything. How else could they sit there calmly and welcome their grandson and his wife from the future into their home? Especially his father had demonstrated a notable lack of shock or any sort of reaction really. He had just been sitting there, eating his breakfast as if this was an everyday occurrence.

Perhaps his father had truly gone mad at last.

'I sense a contradiction between your words and your tone,' she said. There was a slight frown on her forehead.

There was. And he saw no reason not to explain this to her, except that he had no clue how to tell this news and not sound like a raving madman himself.

'They have taken leave of their senses,' he declared. That was the truth. And if that wasn't the case, it was something very close to it.

Theyra did not give the impression that this had provided her with any more clarity. If anything, her confusion only increased. And she would have asked more questions if a baby's wail had not drifted into the room at that precise moment.

'Hold that thought,' she said before disappearing into the nursery. The infant should have kept her busy for a while and should have given him sufficient time to come up with a decent explanation. But of course the whole world conspired against him. Thorin's wailing ceased and Theyra returned quickly, the child in her arms.

It was an odd thing, Thráin thought. Only yesterday he had felt himself glow with pride when he looked at his son. Little Thorin was the apple of his eye, a symbol that his line would continue, a promise for the future.

And now he could hardly bear to look upon him.

The promise was false. He will only bring us shame and disappointment.

Of course the infant had no way of knowing what he would grow up to be. But Thráin knew and he could never not know it. He could never look on his son the same way. He read only dashed hopes and bitter disappointment in the little face.

'Will you not explain?' his wife asked gently, rocking the baby. 'Hush now, little love,' she added to the baby. 'You are perfectly all right.'

Thorin was as far from all right as he could be. Nothing about him would ever be good again. Knowing the future had spoiled that chance forever. And yet Thráin would always prefer knowing what was to come over ignorance. At least he would not now place his faith in his son. He would know better.

'It is not for me to explain,' he said. He did not have the words to describe this. 'You ought to ask them.'

Theyra clearly found his answer lacking. 'I am sure you make it sound it more serious than it is,' she said. There was a hint of disapproval in her voice. 'Why, I only saw your father the day before yesterday and he appeared perfectly sound of mind to me.'

Because that encounter pre-dated the arrival of adult Thorin and his thrice-cursed wife. Part of Thráin longed for the relative simplicity of that day. But there was no use in wishing for things he could not have. He was faced with a grim reality. It would not do to hide from it.

'Common sense has since abandoned him and my mother both,' he said. How in Durin's name had they been taken in by that girl? Was he the only one who could see clearly, who had the capacity to recognise the danger this woman posed to the future of his people?

'You have lost me,' Theyra confessed. 'Will you not explain?'

He would not. 'Look to them for clarity, if that is what you seek.' And it would change her too, knowing what was to become of the son she now cradled so gently in her arms. 'But it will bring you no joy.'

Hurt bloomed in her eyes. He'd spoken too unkindly, he knew that, but he did not know how to be kind now. His heart ached, for her and for him. They had imagined a different future, one in which their lad would be a dwarf to make any father proud. And perhaps he had done things to merit such pride, but his choice of wife would overshadow it all. It was a stain on him that would never be washed away.

'I will judge that for myself, I think,' Theyra said. He tasted incredulity and hurt in her words. It was beyond his power to take it away. Soon enough she would understand why and when that moment had come, she would wish for ignorance. But Thráin had never believed in shielding his wife from the uglier sides of life and she in turn would not thank him if he had. Some things had to be faced.

'Do as you see fit,' he said.

At last she became fed up with him. 'Very well, I shall. If you would mind Thorin for a bit, I shall leave immediately.' She held out the baby for him to take.

Yesterday, this morning even, he would have met her halfway to hold him. He would talk to him and hum him songs when he believed nobody else could hear. But all that had gone now. He had no more songs to give this child, no more words of comfort to offer. They had all turned sour in the span of minutes.

He did the only thing he could do: he took a step back.

If she had been annoyed before, Theyra was heading rapidly towards anger now. It took a lot to rile his wife, but it appeared he had managed to do so at last, even if it had not been his intention. 'I am beginning to believe that you have taken leave of your senses, and not your father. Well, if you won't hold him, I shall take him with me. You're no fit company for anybody a present, not even for an infant.'

She marched out of the room. The door fell shut behind her a little harder than was strictly necessary.

Thráin sank down into the nearest obliging chair. The implications of the discoveries he had made this morning were at last fully starting to sink in. The heavy disappointment almost made him feel nauseous.

Then a thought occurred to him. There are many years yet between now and then.

It was as if he had been given new life. And it was so simple that it was quite frankly mind baffling that it had not occurred to him before now. What he had seen was perhaps not a vision of the future that would be, but the future that could be. He had been given a warning and, having received it, it was his duty to act on it. If he did not, the blame for whatever followed would be his.

He now wished he had not sent Theyra to his parents to learn the truth. After all, he now knew it would not need to happen. There was a very easy way to prevent Thorin ever having his head turned by a mannish girl. If he worked hard enough to impose on Thorin how much less men were than the dwarves, surely Thorin would never be able to look on one of them as a bride. His disgust of them and their ways would be too strong. And that girl, whoever she was, would lead an insignificant mannish life and wed an insignificant man. And even if she tried her wiles, such as they were, on Thráin's son and heir, they would fail.

It was the way things ought to be.

And if these matters needed a firm hand to make sure they came to pass, then Thráin would not think such a task beneath him. The future of his line was at stake.

Kate

Kate's blood boiled. If she'd had the possibility she'd have strangled Thráin on the spot. It was either that or bash his head against a wall repeatedly to knock some sense into that thick skull. She'd met her fair share of people who hated her guts. But Thráin, she found, had reached whole new heights of disgusting.

His behaviour should not have altogether been a surprise. After all, there was a fairly good reason why Thorin had such issues with his father and the memory of him. Kate had been given to understand that he had not been a particularly pleasant individual even before the Mountain fell. Meeting him today had made it very clear that unpleasant was the understatement of the century when it came to describing Thráin.

She had tried to keep quiet for Thorin's sake. In spite of everything, his relationship with his father was ambivalent at best. He loathed him for leaving when he should have stayed, yet had also always craved his approval.

Even after such a short time Kate could tell that approval was not going to be in the cards.

And Thorin had surprised her. The moment Thráin had attacked her, he had been on her side, calling his father to the carpet for how he treated her. The only emotion she had seen was icy, freezing anger. It was the kind of anger he reserved for folk he really couldn't stand. Of course it would have been beyond Kate's control to keep her own mouth shut. Then again, there had been very little choice. When Thráin had started throwing the m-word around and Thorin had made no attempt to defend himself from such a blatantly wrong accusation, she'd had to step in.

Good riddance to bad rubbish. Thráin had left shortly after, but not before one last kick below the belt. You disappoint me, he'd said. Kate was one of the very few people in all the world who knew what those words meant to Thorin.

She should have killed him for that just on principle.

Thrór and Freya had lost the plot somewhere along the way. They hadn't said so in as many words, but the remainder of breakfast was a tense affair. Their hosts were turning things over in their minds; it was plain enough for all to see. Kate was just grateful that they did not ask any questions. Perhaps they knew Thorin and Kate could not answer them. There was a long history between father and son. Thorin's resentment had grown and festered for well over a century. It was a wound that only ever healed on the surface. Then something would remind him and it would be torn open and bleed anew. Kate understood this because at least in the father department she came from a similar background.

Breakfast was over and Thrór had retreated into his study. Freya busied herself in the kitchen, which left Thorin and Kate alone in front of the hearth. Her husband had made it as far as the chair Kate had occupied before breakfast and had not left it since. He was staring into the flames, lost in his thoughts. Kate could hazard a relatively educated guess as to what was going on in his head, but there was no way to tell for certain.

She took the other chair and sat with him. No words of hers could make it better. All she had to offer were platitudes and she knew better than most how useless and empty they were. Words could only tear the wound open further. The pain went too deep.

To her surprise Thorin spoke almost as soon as her backside hit the chair. 'You said we are setting the future in stone.'

'It's a theory, yes,' Kate replied carefully. Just because she knew the rules of time travel in fiction didn't mean she knew the first thing about the genuine article. All she had to offer were theories. But so far, this one was holding up to scrutiny.

She weighed the evidence in her mind. And really, the fact that she was here at all spoke for it. Gandalf could not have chosen a worse person for the job as advisor if he'd tried. Well, he could have erred worse if he'd picked one of the squealing fangirls, she supposed, but still, her point was a valid one. There were tons more people more qualified, and willing, to have taken on the job as advisor on Thorin's quest. But if one took into consideration that Gandalf was preserving the timeline as he knew it, then and only then did his choice make the slightest bit of sense.

'I believe you are right,' Thorin said. He looked away from the fire and into her eyes. It had been a long time since he had looked so haunted. It broke her heart to see it and at the same time it fuelled the fire of her rage. All of this was so horribly unfair. Hadn't he been through enough? Didn't it ever bloody end?

'How do you mean?' she asked, almost hesitantly. The decision to speak of this would always have to be his. She would not force him, just as he had never pressed the point with her. They both knew the other's pain; the knowledge of it did not have to be mentioned to be therapeutic. The companionship of someone who simply understood was often enough.

'You heard his words,' Thorin said.

It had been hard to miss them.

'I never pleased him,' he continued. The words sounded as if they took great effort to speak. 'He was never proud of me, nor did I ever gain his approval for anything I did. I never understood why. But what if…?' He trailed off.

But there was no need for him to finish that sentence, because Kate heard him loud and clear. What if the reason for Thráin's mysterious constant disapproval of his son was only due to this visit, because he knew that Thorin would marry a woman of the race of men, a race he obviously did not think highly of?

The implications of this were staggering.

'I am sorry.' The words did not cover it, not by any stretch of the imagination, but they were the best she had to offer under the given circumstances. Good grief, she had been the cause of the rocky relationship between father and son all these years? Long before she had even been born, Thráin had resented his eldest son for a marriage aforementioned son would not make for another almost two hundred years.

Curse this whole time travel mess to the deepest circle of hell! Kate thought furiously. No, she would not blame herself, because that did not make one ounce of sense. This was not on her, and it wasn't on Thorin either. This was Thráin's doing and the fact that he was doing it at all painted him as a spiteful and vindictive fellow in her eyes. How could anybody be like that and not go mad?

But he did. Or he will at least.

Thorin shook his head. 'It isn't for you to feel guilty over.'

'I'm not feeling guilty,' she replied quickly. 'Just… angry.' It wasn't an adequate description of her current emotions and so she corrected herself: 'No, that's not the word. I'm bloody spitting mad that he's treating you like that and I would love to bash his brains in, but that's not going to help right now.'

To her surprise this coaxed the smallest of smiles from him.

'What?'

He explained: 'Your elvish friend would say that you have taken on many dwarvish mannerisms, including but not limited to the urge to solve every problem with violence.'

Elvaethor would say that. In fact, he had already said it, and more than once at that. 'Would that it solved anything. Sorry, I shouldn't have said any of that. Whatever happened, he is still your father.'

Thorin shook his head. 'He lost that right.'

That silenced her. She'd said the same thing about her father, despite having given the man more second chances than she had fingers and toes to count them on. She had to make that decision in the end because it was the only one that made sense, the only option that was healthy and wise for her. But Thorin had never gone that far. Kate reckoned it was because Thráin had been lost to him and he still mourned him. It was hard to hate the dead.

But Thráin was very much alive now.

'What a bloody mess.' And even that felt like an understatement.

'You remember that when we met, I hated men,' Thorin said.

The change in topic was sudden, but Kate was sure it would lead to something. 'Yes, I do.' He hadn't had a good word for men in general. That Kate belonged to that race and was female besides had not done her any favours at first. 'It's hardly strange after the experiences you had with them.' It was the bane of men everywhere that they could be small-minded and stupid in any world, an affliction that was also often visited upon elves and dwarves, no matter how much they denied it.

'My father fuelled that hate,' Thorin continued. 'More in exile than he did before, but maybe my mother tempered it then. He never ceased such talk until the day he… disappeared.'

And now Kate understood. 'He was trying to drive a wedge between us long before we even met.' Just trying to understand that reasoning was giving her a headache, but it made sense, in a sickening sort of way. 'Bloody hell.'

The one reason Thráin had never really approved of Thorin – she privately doubted if he had ever actually loved him now – had been Kate's presence here today. The reason why he had preached about men and their failings until he was blue in the face was the fact that he had been made aware that his son would marry a woman of the race of men.

In a way, I'm at the heart of all their problems. And yet there was not a single thing she could do about it. It made her feel very powerless and livid at the same time. None of it was fair. Neither of them had asked for this. And for the longest time Thráin had been trying to orchestrate their separation without either of them knowing it.

Setting the future in stone indeed.

And then she realised something. 'Hold on,' she said, trying to force her thoughts into a semblance of order. 'It didn't work. I mean, we met, didn't like each other for a multitude of reasons, but we still ended up right here. Despite your father's meddling in things that hadn't happened yet, we're still here. And I don't think anything has changed, because you remember him trying to poison you against men.'

Thorin nodded slowly. 'Indeed. His efforts were wasted. He failed before he had even begun.'

Kate frowned. 'Not entirely, though. You hated my guts when we met.'

'And then I learned to see beyond what I thought to be true about you.' Thorin looked like he wanted to find the right words to make his point, not an easy task given that they were both up to their eyeballs in uncharted territory. 'His teachings were not strong enough to prevent our marriage.'

His love for her had been stronger. Despite all the odds being against them, they had still made it this far. Despite Thráin's meddling, Thorin's prejudices and Kate's best intentions not to get attached and go home, they had ended up right where they were now. It was enough to amaze anyone.

What we have is strong. She had known that before today. But that opinion had been strengthened just now. Because they were so unlikely to ever happen. Everything argued against it: their people, their upbringing and plain common sense not the least of those reasons. She had forsaken a world to become his wife, he had risked the wrath of his own people to marry her. Their love had to be that strong to withstand all that the world could throw at it.

'A cheesy romance novel would call that fate,' she reflected. 'Or destiny.' Just the words made her wrinkle her nose in disgust. In fact, if she remembered right fan fictions had always been very liberal with those words as well. That thought made her shudder.

'What would you call it?' Thorin asked.

Kate had to think about that for a moment. 'Just love, I think.' It was common knowledge that it had turned otherwise very sensible people into idiots. 'And our pig-headedness.'

That prompted a smile, a real one this time. 'Aye, it must be that.'

Had they been allowed to continue in this vein, Kate was reasonably certain there would have been kissing in her immediate future. Alas, that was not to be, because the door opened and a dwarrowdam let herself in. She had light brown hair and a very nicely braided beard. There was something just a little bit familiar about her, but Kate couldn't place it.

'Oh, hello,' she said when she spied them, clearly not in the least bit surprised or alarmed to find two strangers in the living room of the King under the Mountain. 'You were not who I was expecting.'

Kate recovered from the shock of the unexpected visitor first. 'The King's in his study, if you're looking for him,' she supplied helpfully. 'And I think the Queen has gone to the kitchen to make tea.'

'That was just who I was looking for,' the new arrival said. 'Theyra, daughter of Onur, at your service.' She made a half-bow, as far as she could with the baby she had in her arms.

'Kate, daughter of John, at yours,' Kate returned the favour before her thoughts came to another sudden halt. No, she can't be.

But it appeared as though she was. And the fact that Thorin had gone rigid as a statue once again only confirmed that idea. She'd known that his mother's name was Theyra, but she'd never been able to really picture her. But she looked every bit as friendly as Thorin had described her.

And if she was Thorin's mother, that would make the baby in her arms a very young Thorin himself. And once she realised that, it was impossible to not look at him. He was asleep, calm and content in his mother's arms, so very unaware of the things that happened today that would shape his life in so many ways.

This is so strange. Surreal almost.

Theyra had noticed her watching. 'And my son, Thorin,' she introduced the child.

I know. And she couldn't say. It would sound absurd and far-fetched.

'Pleasure to make your acquaintance,' she forced herself to say. She must be that good of an actress that Theyra didn't think anything of it, because she seemed to take Kate's remark at face value. 'Both of you.'

'I'm pleased to hear you think so,' Theyra replied cheerfully. 'Here, will you hold him while I find the King?'

Kate's eyes widened to the size of saucers. 'I am not sure that's a good…'

She wasn't allowed to finish that sentence. 'Thank you!' Theyra said and she pushed her son into Kate's arms.

There was nothing she could do. And Kate had handled too many babies for her to act any different. Instinct took over and she grabbed the child the moment Theyra let go. She adjusted her grip so she held him more securely.

Theyra dashed off to the study almost immediately and she was left standing there with a very young Thorin asleep in her arms. Panic rose fast and threatened to overwhelm her. This was never meant to be. Two versions of her husband at the same place at the same time was probably not a very good idea. The world hadn't imploded yet, so they were probably safe in that area, but the emotional carnage this could wreak was considerable.

She looked at her husband from over his younger self. He had been struck dumb as well. She saw her own alarm reflected in his eyes.

And at the same time, it felt very natural to hold a baby, even if it was this particular one, yet another thing she could add to her ever-growing list of things she had never thought she would ever do. He was just a helpless baby now. He couldn't help it that the world had just stopped making any sense overnight.

Still the unease remained.

Thorin was still looking at her. Their eyes met.

'This is not good,' Kate heard herself say.

In the category of understatements, this one is a winner.

Next time: meet Theyra.

The Book is not cooperating with certain details, so you'll get another chapter of this next week.

Reviews/feedback would be much appreciated. I'd love to hear what you're thinking about this.

Thank you for reading!