Chapter 34

Into the Past Part 8: Returning

'You are not of this world.'

'No, but I've put a lot of work into it.'

Doctor Who

Thorin

Kate was a bloody awful patient.

She could at least own up to her own failures. Thorin thought that counted for something. And he understood. He had been climbing the walls – not literally of course – when he had been injured by Smaug and later again on the battlefield. All folk would tell him was that it was in his best interests to remain stationary. It had been good advice even though he had been reluctant to accept it. Likewise, it was good counsel for Kate as well, but she was no more pleased than he had been to live by it.

In some ways, it was worse for Kate than it had been for him. She was always in motion, even in sleep. Now she could barely turn her head without screaming. Of course, she tried to hide how much pain she was in, but he knew. At least when Thorin had been recuperating, it had been because he had been injured as a consequence of something he had chosen to do. He had taken on the dragon, knowing he might very well die, of his own free will. There were times he was surprised to find he had survived at all. The same sentiment applied to the Battle of the Five Armies, perhaps even moreso because Kate's book had predicted his death.

But this was different. Kate hadn't been meant to be in danger. She hadn't chosen to take the risk, because there had never been supposed to be one. Yet still, here she was. And it was only because of Kate's own stubbornness and Elvaethor's skill that she was not dead.

And speaking of Elvaethor… 'The elf has deserted us,' Thorin observed about a week after he had last seen Elvaethor. The captain of the Mirkwood guard had just disappeared. A few inquiries turned up that he had retrieved a horse from the stables and that he had ridden off without telling anybody where he was going.

'Perhaps,' Kate allowed. 'But he isn't our Elvaethor yet, is he? He told me he was this close to running away and never looking back when we had just met him. And that's two centuries from now.'

Thorin knew that it was true, and yet felt his trust had been flung back in his face. He had learned to trust Elvaethor, especially after he had come to his aid in the campaign against the orcs two years ago when he was under no obligation to do so. He had taken a blow for Thorin and then tried to inform him that it was nothing. He'd gained Thorin's respect and perhaps even his friendship.

And even though the Elvaethor of this time had done none of these things yet, it felt like a betrayal.

'He promised to tend to you,' Thorin insisted. What vexed him was that Elvaethor's conduct neatly fitted the pattern of elvish behaviour that he had no longer come to expect from this particular elf.

'He just didn't say for how long,' Kate pointed out.

For someone with a head injury she was remarkably sharp, but she still had no recollection of the day leading up to her fall, which worried Thorin. Perhaps he should count it a blessing that the memory remained out of her reach, but he knew that it bothered Kate, that it alarmed her to miss something that should be so easily accessible to her on any other day.

'Elves!' he spat.

Reason dictated that he could not hold this against the Elvaethor he knew, who had gone above and beyond to help them, who had yet to let them down. Perhaps he had only done so for the lack of care he had demonstrated in the past, Thorin had thought when he had been in a particularly uncharitable mood.

Kate however was firm in her defence of her future friend. 'Let's cut him some slack,' she said. 'He's lost friends before. I reckon he's not too keen to throw himself headfirst into another friendship that's bound to end in heartbreak, especially considering that I was in something of a predicament when he first saw me. Must have brought back all sorts of painful memories. It's no wonder he ran.'

Thorin understood grief far better than most, but he had never run. No, instead he had been about to tear the timeline itself to shreds when it appeared as though he might lose Kate.

It was as though she had heard his thoughts. 'Grief isn't exactly rational.' She smiled apologetically.

He was forced to concede that point. He knew full well that he had only been capable of sanity once he learned that she would live. It had been a warning and one he would be a fool to ignore. Whatever stain was in his blood, whatever penchant for madness lurked just below the surface, it hadn't died. It was there and it could come out. He should have realised that some weeks before, when he had been foolish enough to wish to unwrite his whole life in his present to rearrange the past. Only Kate's sensible words had brought him back from the brink. And only Kate's survival had stayed his hand.

She was his tether to sanity. My life in her hands.

It both frightened and reassured him. He knew he had not made the wrong choice when he married her. If anything, the Maker had made his blessing on their union more than clear. But times like these reminded him that what they had was also fragile. He had come so close to losing it all.

'I was not.' They were alone, which was the only reason he could admit to it aloud.

'Truth be told, if our places had been reversed, common sense might not have made it to the top of my priorities either.' Kate shook her head, then inhaled sharply as the pain struck her again. She was on the mend, but any sudden movement would cause severe headaches. 'Bloody hell!'

Thorin silently echoed the sentiment. The colour had drained from her face and she looked as though she was about to pass out. Any other person probably would, but Kate was usually a good deal more stubborn than most folk and would try to prevent such an event through sheer determination. It was one of the aspects about her that was entirely dwarvish.

'Don't move,' he told her.

His efforts were rewarded with a withering glare. 'Don't ever become a nurse. Your bedside manner stinks.'

Her spirit at least had suffered little from her injury. Thorin was grateful for that. And while he was a little vexed at her manner, he also knew that he had been the same, if not worse. It allowed him to keep a tight leash on his temper. And he was far too relieved to have her still with him to be seriously put out by her sharp words.

'What on earth…?'

Kate looked past him, mouth falling open in what appeared to be shock. Thorin quickly turned around and grasped for his sword. Thráin was standing in the doorway. He was alone and, from what Thorin could see, unarmed, but he had been unarmed when he had attempted to murder Kate, so that counted for nothing.

He was on his feet in moments, blade pointed at the dwarf he had once called father. 'Out!' he snarled.

Contempt was writ large on Thráin's face and he did not budge. 'Put that away,' he said dismissively. 'I am here to talk, no more.'

'You'll forgive me if I don't believe a word that comes from your lips.' He was utterly untrustworthy. Thorin had learned that lesson the hard way, but at the very least he learned from his mistakes.

'You'll find that I have never not told you the truth,' Thráin pointed out. Strictly speaking that was true. After all, he had never attempted to hide his hatred of Kate and of Thorin's choices. But that did not absolve him.

'Get off your high horse,' Kate snapped. 'So maybe you're not a liar, but that doesn't change the fact that you're something worse.' As long as she did not move, she could still very much hold her own in an argument. Thorin was even relieved that she finally seemed capable of summoning a decent amount of anger towards Thráin.

'Be that as it may, I am only here to talk,' Thráin said. 'You can take my word for that. But keep the sword close if it helps you.'

The patronising tone made Thorin want to run him through on principle.

'Speak, then, and be gone.' As it was, he had to control the urge to grab him by the collar and forcefully escort him from the room.

Thráin looked at Kate. 'You.'

'She has a name,' Thorin interjected. 'I'd advise you to use it.'

Thráin appeared to ignore that, but the fact that Thorin was still holding the sword made him think better of it. 'Kate,' he began again. 'What do you get out of this?'

She frowned, hissed in pain and then focussed her attention on him. 'I've a head injury, as you're probably well aware. You're going to have to be a bit more specific, because I'm not following.'

'This marriage. What is it you want from it?' The tone was decidedly demanding.

And he could not stay his tongue. 'Perhaps that's the question you should have asked before you tried to kill her.' Who could know what went on inside that head? And Thorin could not escape the feeling that he only asked now because he hoped the result would enable him to cook up more mischief.

Thráin ignored him. 'My father tells me you came from a different world. Why not return there? You have no business here.'

Thrór should not have told him that. He would have had his reasons, but it wasn't wise. The more information Thráin had, the more harm he would be able to do.

'You know what, that's actually none of your bloody business,' Kate told him.

Thráin appeared taken aback.

So Kate continued: 'No seriously, you've got some nerve, coming in here and demanding answers out of me. You tried to kill me. I don't owe you anything, least of all answers and certainly not when you're standing there demanding them as if it's your God-given right. Piss off.' Incredulity mixed with Kate's unique brand of rude anger. Naturally, Thráin deserved every last scrap of rudeness she had to offer and much more besides.

'Tell me.' Thráin was unmoved and unashamed.

'I think you'd better begin with apologising for the hell you put us through.' Of course, Kate was equally unmovable. Elvaethor – the future Elvaethor – had once said that Kate could easily out-stubborn any dwarf and he was right. 'That'd be a good place to start. And when you're done with that, you could perhaps grovel for forgiveness a bit. Maybe then, if you asked nicely and said please, I might have a think about doing anything for you at all.' There was sarcasm there, but also boiling fury.

Thráin exploded in rage. 'Grovel? For your forgiveness? You presume much, woman.'

Thorin had often referred to Kate by that title before they came together. He wondered now if it had ever sounded so derisive from his lips as it sounded from Thráin's.

'Yeah, well, so did you when you pushed me down the stairs.' Kate may not be able to move, but there was fire and passion in her words. 'You lost the right to the moral high ground, pal.'

He stared her down. 'What I did, I did for the greater good of my people. Can you claim the same?'

Kate did not avert her eyes. 'Funny enough, all I did was get married. People for some incomprehensible reason can't seem to stop making a fuss about it.'

'You should have stuck to your own,' Thráin snapped. 'You reached too high, polluted our line with your blood.'

Thorin would happily have run him through for that alone.

Kate made a gagging noise. 'Good morning, Herr Hitler.'

Thráin of course did not understand – Thorin himself was slightly more educated on her world and its history and understood better – and went on as though she had not spoken at all: 'I had heard that men will go far in their pursuit of power, but I did not think they would ever go this far.'

Kate laughed without humour. 'Really? That's what you think this is? A stupid little power play?'

Thráin's face spoke volumes.

'Hate to break it to you, but really all I ever did was marrying the person I love most in the world. Wasn't easy, wasn't convenient. And I certainly wouldn't have bothered with any of it for a little bit of power. Honestly!'

Thorin knew that it had been much harder on her than she let on. He'd held her the nights she cried herself to sleep because the longing for her family was that strong. He'd stood by her every time she was criticised for her marriage and her place in Erebor. He knew how much it hurt sometimes, how hard it was to always have to fight for everything, how exhausting it was. But she still stayed.

'This is not your world,' Thráin insisted.

'It is,' Kate said simply. 'I've put time and effort into this world, fought and bled for it. I belong to this place now as much as you do.'

'You have no right!' Thráin snapped. He took one step into the room and Thorin stepped into his path, blade still steady in his hand. Thráin looked at it, then at Thorin.

'She has every right,' he spoke, taking care to keep his voice calm. 'She has the right I gave her when I married her.'

'You have no right to extend such privileges.' Thráin was relentless.

Thorin drew himself up to his full height. 'I am the King under the Mountain in my time. Such privileges are entirely within my gift.' Never would he have believed that one day he would pull rank on his own father.

Then again, there had been a time when the title of King under the Mountain had sounded equally foreign and unobtainable to him. And when it was finally his, not just by right but because he had fought for his Mountain and had retaken it from a dragon, it took time to get used to it. It was like a new coat he put on, all stiff so that he couldn't move properly, with the collar sticking into his neck when he walked so he couldn't manoeuvre. But he grew used to it and more or less comfortable with it and he had seen the same process with Kate. At first she'd remained in the background, uncertain in her new position as Queen under the Mountain. Only when she was properly riled would she stand up and claim it. But, like him, she had grown into it over the years. She now stood with quiet confidence and spoke with authority. And she had earned what she had a hundred times over.

Would that the same could be said about Thráin.

'You dare…'

'Yes, I dare.' It was odd, really. Thráin was so much younger than he was, lacking both experience and wisdom. In his mother, her youth had stood out to Thorin, whereas he had only been able to see Thráin as the older, bitter dwarf he had been at the time he disappeared. And still that had not changed.

'Are you rejoicing now that you have taken everything from me?' And there it was, the reason why he was here.

'I am rejoicing that my wife still lives.' Thráin did not know the first thing about loss yet.

Thráin's face twisted in a sneer. 'All this time, you must have known,' he insisted. 'You must have known that I would never succeed my father.'

In a way he had and in another he had not. When he was younger, all he knew was that his grandfather was dead and his father gone – either to the halls of their forefathers or to some unknown place in Middle Earth – and that the burden of kingship had come to him. Thráin would never be King under the Mountain, whether he had a right to that title or not. It was the only reason why Thorin had permitted his grandfather to do that. And that had been strange in and out of itself, Thrór looking at him to approve his idea.

'I did,' he replied at last. Though not in the way you think. It was infinitely more complex than that. And after the battle he had so often wondered why he had to shoulder that burden, why it all fell to him. He was inexperienced, not well enough prepared, mourning. He did not think he was what his people needed. But he was what they had, so he had put one foot in front of the other and he had done what needed doing.

And now he knew that perhaps it was good that he had been the one to lead his people and not Thráin. Of course he could only say this with the benefit of hindsight, but at the very least he understood now. Thráin would have broken under the strain. Thorin had often felt as though he would, but he never had. And that was the difference between them.

'Though I did not know why,' he finished. How could he, when he had never known that Thráin had been disinherited? The situation being what it was, the subject had never come up. It might even be that it had been kept from Thorin deliberately.

Thráin's gaze settled on Kate. 'What have you done to him?'

'Nothing,' Kate replied. 'Thorin's quite capable of making up his own mind.'

'What in Durin's name are you doing here?'

So, it appeared, was Thrór, who had come in behind Thráin and was clearly very displeased to see his son where he was told very explicitly not to go. He grabbed Thráin unceremoniously by the back of his tunic and hauled him out of the room. Thorin should have done it himself, might even have done so. But it would have involved removing himself from between his father and Kate and if Thráin had broken free… It did not bear thinking about.

Thrór came back a moment later, muttering angrily about the uselessness of the guard on the door. 'Apologies, lass, Thorin.' He nodded at them. 'That won't happen again.'

Thorin suddenly realised he was still holding the sword and put it away at last. There was no need for it now.

'How are you feeling today, Kate?' He came closer and sat down on the chair Thorin had vacated when he jumped up.

'Little better,' she replied, tension melting out of her shoulders. Thorin knew she liked Thrór, a fact that pleased him. To his relief she got on well with most of the people she met in this place, this Erebor of the past, with only one notable exception. 'Head's not pounding so much, so long as I remember to keep it still, which is not one of my natural talents, it seems.'

Thrór chuckled. 'You're a dwarf at heart,' he declared. 'We're none of us made to be idle.'

'Absolutely,' Kate agreed.

'Well, nothing I can do about it, but I reckon I found you something better,' Thrór announced, quite enigmatically. 'A couple of visitors have just arrived at the gate, requesting to see the two of you.' Before Thorin had much opportunity to wonder who would know them well enough here to want to call on them, Thrór had already bid them enter.

Two tall figures stepped inside, one of them all in grey, the other with bright red hair: the grey wizard and Elvaethor.

Kate

It took Kate a moment to process the fact that Elvaethor and Gandalf were both here. News from the latter had been all but non-existent, so she hadn't expected him for months yet and she hadn't allowed herself to hope for a quicker arrival.

And Elvaethor? She had not thought to see him again in this era. It was hard to find him gone, but she had understood. Kate herself was something of an expert when it came to running from heartache and so it was nothing she could hold against him in good conscience. And her elvish friend felt things deeply, with his whole soul. The very risk of engaging in a friendship only to lose it again must have terrified him. He wasn't ready now, but in the future that would be different. That being the case, she wasn't going to force him into something he did not yet want.

But here he was again. What's more, he had brought Gandalf. Kate recalled that she had discussed the wizard with him before he vanished. But she had never even imagined that the reason he had left was that he had set out to find Gandalf for them.

Now that she saw them both here together, it did make sense. After all, the reason why Elvaethor had initially helped them was because Gandalf asked him to. That more than implied friendship, because as far as Kate was aware, Elvaethor had never once asked why. Of course, in her state she hadn't thought to ask Elvaethor if he perhaps knew where Gandalf was, even though he was clearly the one best placed to known.

Stupid concussion. She was decidedly slower in the brain department since the attack.

'I've brought you the wizard, my lady,' Elvaethor announced with a half bow in her direction.

'Thank you,' she said, meaning the words with all her heart.

She looked at Gandalf now. It was odd, because he looked just as she remembered him. Two centuries before she met him he looked no different from the first time she set eyes on him at Bag End. Time never touched him. Of course, it was the same for Elvaethor, speaking in terms of appearance. But with him she could tell the difference between past and future by his eyes – so sorrowful now, however much he tried to hide it – and his conduct, not to mention his annoying insistence to call her by titles and overdo the courtesies.

But Gandalf was the same now as he would be. For all she knew, he was even wearing the same clothes. If he wasn't, there wasn't any noticeable difference.

'Gandalf,' she acknowledged. 'Thank you very much for coming.'

He looked at her face and Kate wished she could hide it. When the healer had changed the dressing yesterday, she had requested a mirror, just to know why people always winced when they looked at her these days. When he had obliged, she kind of wished he had refused her instead. The whole right side of her face was a rainbow of discolouration and scabbed over wounds. In short, she very much looked like she had fallen down the stairs.

'Please sit,' she invited when Thorin didn't speak. Hardly a surprise, because Thorin didn't like having to ask for help. It was even worse, because this was Gandalf. And they all had quite a history. It just hadn't happened yet.

Elvaethor and Gandalf both did and Thrór announced he would leave them to it, as he had some urgent business to attend to. Kate suspected he would be having a few words with Thráin in private. He had it coming as far as Kate was concerned.

She was wondering how to explain what had caused them to look for Gandalf in the first place, but it appeared that Elvaethor had already taken care of it. That too made sense, because Kate knew Gandalf and there was no way that he would let himself be dragged off anywhere without having a very good reason to do so.

'Time travel?' he asked. It was hard to tell from his face if he was shocked or surprised. He seemed to take it all in his stride. Then again, he'd had the shock when Elvaethor brought him up to speed. He might have had days to let the news sink in already.

'About two centuries,' Thorin responded. 'It was 2950 of the Third Age where we came from.' It was not information he would have volunteered easily, but Gandalf may be the only one who could get them home.

Gandalf nodded, then turned to Kate. 'What happened to you, dear?'

Kate grimaced and instantly regretted that excess of movement. 'The past disagreed with me,' she replied, only too well aware that there were multiple ways to explain that comment. Unfortunately they were all true.

'Can you heal her?'

Kate would have swivelled her head around if she had not just had a reminder that would be a very bad idea. Thorin wasn't given to making requests of anyone, least of all Gandalf. But he was making one now.

Gandalf looked at him.

And Thorin did not withdraw. 'Or take the pain at least,' he said, meeting Gandalf's eyes. 'Please.'

At last it looked as though the grey wizard was slightly taken aback. Then again, dwarves only seldom asked for help. And if they did, they asked for themselves. Whatever thoughts he had on their marriage, Maker only knew, but he hadn't so much as blinked when he first saw them.

'Healing is a natural process,' Gandalf said. 'That will take time. But it may be persuaded to hurry along.' He looked at Kate again. 'If you would permit me?'

'Of course,' she replied, still somewhat on the back foot. In all the time she had known him, Gandalf had never so readily complied with any request. Then again, she had usually asked him to send her home and he couldn't have done that.

Going home was never an option. It hurt to know that. Even though it had been her own choice in the end, she had perhaps been at least coerced into staying long enough to make it. And it wouldn't have helped her at the time to know that Gandalf only did what he did to maintain a timeline. Honestly, if she had known it, she would have fought that much harder. Who knows, she might have even succeeded. And that could have had all kinds of unforeseen consequences of the unpleasant kind.

So where did that leave her? More specifically, where did that leave her resentment towards Gandalf? She had low-key hated him for years, and had felt at times uncomfortable with that, because what he had done, he had done for the good of his world. And it now turned out that he had orchestrated her life even more than she had believed at the time. All to preserve a timeline.

Logic dictated she resented him more than she did before.

Except Kate loved her life. She had been terrified of losing it all when Thorin had indicated he wouldn't mind rewriting the past when they had just arrived. She had fought tooth and nail to hold on to what she had. And she had done that because in spite of everything, she wanted it. So could she truly hate the person who had set her on her path?

It was a difficult question to answer.

Gandalf put his hand against the injured side of her head, closed his eyes and muttered words she didn't understand. Judging by the deepening frown on his forehead, it took a great deal of effort.

Which sums up all my interactions with him in a nutshell.

At first there was nothing much. Gandalf's hand was pleasantly warm, but that was it. But then the tingling started, first only where the hand made contact, but rapidly spreading. The stinging and pain followed shortly after and Kate inhaled sharply.

As soon as it started it was over.

'The pain is gone.' Or well, not all of it. Her ribcage was still sore and she felt it would be better to postpone moving her leg for a bit, but she was fairly certain that at least her head was feeling much better. She'd gotten so used to the low-level pain – and not so low-level when she stupidly tried to move – this past week, that the absence of it almost made her feel like she was missing something essential. Her head was feeling strangely numb.

Gandalf nodded. 'Good,' he said. 'Very good.'

'Thank you,' she said, realising that was the thing she should have started with. Honestly, that was just rude.

The wizard nodded. 'Can you tell me how you came here?'

They did. Of course, there wasn't much to tell. Kate had gone over it in her head so many times now, and never once had she gotten something that resembled a reasonable explanation. Right up to the moment that she realised there was no carving in the wall where there should be, she hadn't even considered the possibility that she was no longer in her own time. It was supposed to be impossible, and Kate had been dragged into The Hobbit, not Doctor Who.

Gandalf listened attentively, nodded every now and again and frowned an awful lot.

'I have never heard of something like this,' he pondered when they were done. Kate's heart was already starting to sink, when he added: 'But there is no reason to lose hope just yet. No, there may be a way.' He looked long and hard at the both of them. 'One spell in particular might work.'

Kate could read the impatience on Thorin's face that was likely a mirror image of her own.

'It's called a There and Back Again spell,' Gandalf announced.

Kate couldn't have stopped herself from gasping if she'd tried, and she was far too shocked to try. 'I thought that was meant to transport people from one place to another. Just across space, not time as well.' After all, it would be useless to try and conceal now that the name did not mean anything to her. Never become a spy, Andrews. You'd be completely useless at it.

If Gandalf had opinions, there was no evidence of it on his face. Elvaethor had no such reservations and stared at her with badly concealed curiosity.

'It is meant to take people from one place to another, dear girl,' the wizard said. 'There is no reason time should be an obstacle.'

'I have never heard that time travel was even possible,' Kate said. It was good and well in stories, but in real life? Well, she had seen the chaos it could cause first-hand.

'It is not meant to be,' Gandalf replied. 'But forces greater than I placed you here.' Is he suggesting the Valar are involved? If so, Kate wouldn't know why they had bothered with Thorin and her. They'd done an important thing or two in their day, but nothing that warranted that kind of attention, she felt.

Then again, perhaps they had a timeline to maintain as well, she thought wryly. After all, after everything that had happened to her, she couldn't rightly rule anything out anymore. It's like the moment I think that something is impossible, someone sets out to prove me wrong. First it had been Gandalf, disproving both the notion that Middle Earth did not exist and that travel between worlds was impossible, if there were other worlds to begin with. And now it was time travel and all its complexities. And Gandalf had more or less suggested the Valar had some hand in it.

Kate really didn't like it. After all the times we've asked the Maker to be good, it would be about bloody time he humoured us for once.

'You can send us back?' Thorin asked. He, unlike Kate, did not seem very interested in how it was possible that they were here. He had never been comfortable here, not even before Thráin had attempted murder. It had been worse this past week. He'd been restless, something he tried to conceal from her, rather badly.

That didn't mean Kate was any less anxious to go back; Erebor had become something of a hostile environment so long as Thráin was in it. And she wanted to go home, see all her loved ones, hold her children and rest assured in the knowledge that everything was as it was supposed to be.

Because ever since their arrival here, there had been this nagging sense of being stuck, of history repeating itself. She had been dragged kicking and screaming from one world to another and there had been no return trip. True, it had been her own choice in the end – more or less – but she had been unable to squash that little voice saying that it would be no different now, that she would be forever cut off from everyone she loved again.

Gandalf nodded. 'Without a doubt.' That of course was the only answer that would settle Thorin's frayed nerves.

'How soon?' Thorin was in no mood to beat around the bush. Now that he had what he needed within reach, he would no sooner let go than a dragon would abandon his treasure.

Gandalf gave him a long look. 'Perhaps it would be best until your wife has healed.'

That wouldn't stand. 'I can recuperate as well at home as I can here,' she was quick to say.

Thorin wouldn't say it, because Gandalf had used the one thing that would ever cause him to delay: her health. And Kate did not want to delay. For so long she had felt like their efforts to return to where they were supposed to be were going nowhere. She wanted to go back. Besides, if she was home, there was no risk of Thráin barging in at some point to finish the job. Even the guard on the door had not been enough to keep him out and if Thorin had not been here, who knows what might have happened.

Kate certainly didn't want to spend too long thinking about that.

Gandalf looked at Kate this time. He was reading her face, almost as if he was measuring her up, making up his mind about whether she was strong enough for this magical journey or not. Personally she felt that she would make it even if she fainted at the other end of it, even if it meant that she had to keep to her bed for another year.

Just take me home.

She had tried to banish the longing she had felt since they arrived, because if she let it take over, she would break down where she stood. But now she let it fill her, top to toe. And every last bit of longing washed over her in waves, every scrap of hope that she hadn't dared to let herself believe in, just in case that it would prove to be a disappointment. The strength of it brought tears to her eyes.

Thorin was, as always, more guarded, but she could read the emotion in his eyes, as strong, or stronger even, than hers. 'Take us home.'

There's one more chapter left on this project, of farewells, returning home and tying up loose ends.

I've got a few more things planned, including the AU I mentioned a couple of chapters ago. But if you have ideas for things you'd like to see, feel free to let me know.

Apologies for the long absence. Much of it had to do with the nightly trouble of my noisy downstairs neighbours and the resulting lack of sleep and focus. If you're still here, thank you very much.

Thanks for reading. Reviews would be lovely.