Dearest gentle readers,
An apology doesn't even cut it at this stage. I'll explain everything about my tardiness at the end for all those interested in my boring anecdotes. Thank you for all the reviews! I was shook by how many people were wanting an update. The reviews all filled me with guilt which pushed me to get my butt in hear and update (as usual). Again, guys, so sorry for the delay. I promise it wasn't on purpose.
...
" We are all faced with a series of brilliant opportunities disguised as impossible situations...I am convinced that life is 10% of what happens to you and 90% of how you react to it." - Charles R. Swindoll
~Chapter 28~
Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do you see?
For the first time since finding myself in the familiar scene of pale, decaying buildings, amusement washes over me. Dol Guldor.
I glance around, for once, untroubled, taking in the haunting remnants of a forsaken past. A surge of courage swells in my heart, fueled by the newly found belief that good will triumph over evil, just as it does in every fairytale story. The encounters with the rock giants, goblins, and orcs have strengthened my once shaky conviction. Everything will be alright! And in this moment, I feel untouchable.
The air hangs still, as if holding its breath, and I break the silence with my bemused voice. But instead of speaking, it's a song that passes through my lips, the only song fitting for the occasion. "Hello Darkness, my old friend… I've come to talk with you again..."
I begin to walk, but this time, I don't head towards the nearest cliff. Instead, I want to find the owner of this forsaken dump. A vindictive part of me wants to throw his failure in his face.
"Because a thought was slowly creeping... left its seeds while I was sleeping… And the voices... in my brain... still remain... amidst the sound... of silence."
The eerie, almost haunting echo of my voice fills the crumbling buildings as I continue my song, "In restless dreams, I walked alone... narrowed paths of cobbled stone. Beneath the halo of a streetlamp... I turned my collar to the cold and damp... When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light... That split the night... And touched the sound of silence."
A familiar prickle runs through me that raises the hair on my skin, sensing the necromancer's presence.
"Ah, there he is!" I abruptly quit my song and raise both arms in a mock celebration of his arrival. A daring move that belies the slight fear still lingering inside me. "How's my least favorite Necromancer in the whole wide world of Arda?"
He stays back, a dark swirling cloud observing me from a distance in the stale space.
A small voice cautions me in my head, reminding me that mocking a supernatural being isn't the wisest decision. I choose to ignore it, desperate to feel in control for once. He can't hurt me in dreams. Can it be that dream-walking only occurs at night? I didn't sleep a wink last night, running from wargs and soaring on eagles. But when I did sleep during the day, I don't remember any dreams.
The Necromancer's mist slowly gets smaller, condensing into his usual creepy humanoid shape. A being of smoke and shadow. "You were absent last evening," he hisses in his unsettling voice. "Anything...unusual occur?"
I raise an annoyed eyebrow, realizing what news he's waiting to hear. "Oh! You mean besides killing the Goblin King, running through the Misty Mountain's tunnels, and receiving a visit from your pet Orc?" I shrug nonchalantly, my eyes wandering elsewhere as if suddenly bored with the conversation. "Nah. Nothing unusual. Pretty uneventful, actually."
The necromancer stands motionless, his dark eyeless form observing me with an intensity that threatens to send a shiver down my spine. The air around him pulsates angrily. "I presume by your... cheerful demeanor... that you are NOT, in fact, captured at this very moment."
I smirk at his agitation. Glancing back at him, I respond with defiance and amusement, "Nope! It was a nice try, though. Better luck next time! You might want to consider hiring more competent followers." I then give him a mock pout, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
The necromancer's form suddenly explodes with a bellowing roar, causing me to gasp and step back as he transforms back into a shapeless mist. He surges upwards and outward along the towering ceiling of Dol Ghuldar's large hall. My eyes widen in regret as his furious wind batters at a large stone pillar, causing it to crumble. He destroyed the stone as if it were dust.
The entire building starts to tremble, as if it will fall. But then he descends back down to my level, and the stone structure holds.
My throat feels dry and I gulp down the fissure of fear tingling through me. I understand the message he's sending — that he could easily do the same to me, tearing me apart as seamlessly as the stone. And yet...
No. He can't do that to me. And that's why he took his anger out on the building. My fear quickly morphs into smug satisfaction.
Unable to contain my renewed confidence, I taunt him once more. "Awww, did little 'Mancy' not get what he wanted? Poor mancy-wancy! Well, you might as well get used to it. Like I said from the beginning, Sauron will dispose of you, and all your plans will be shot to hell." I shrug nonchalantly, my words taking on a singsong quality.
A voice in the back of my mind warns me yet again that mocking a supernatural being has never been and never will be an intelligent idea. I shrug it away again. Good always wins in the end. I'll be fine!
"Oh, he will, will he? You know nothing of Sauron," he goads me, his voice dripping with disdainful arrogance.
I raise an unimpressed eyebrow in response. Psh. Idiot.
"Honestly? You're absolutely right. I don't know much about Sauron, and you wanna know why? Because he was never big or bad enough for me to care," I retort, my voice laced with annoyed disdain.
The stone room suddenly feels colder, as if a chilling breeze has swept through, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. I can't help but shiver, an involuntary reaction to the strange aura that surrounds the room. Nonetheless, I continue, "In the realm of scary story villains? I can't say that he was even on the top ten of my list. I never had an inkling of fear of him! He's just a big stupid eye in a tower."
The Ringwraiths were as scary as hell in the Fellowship of the Ring. But Sauron? A really lame eyeball. Hell, the Necromancer is scarier than he was! Just as that thought crosses my mind, the figure of the Necromancer steps forward, his movements fluid and menacing. Eerie shadows dance across the pale stone around him, accentuating his sinister presence.
A dark chuckle reverberates from him, causing the hair on my arms to stand on end. His emotions are as volatile as the shifting winds, flipping from violent anger to twisted amusement in the blink of an eye.
"Is he now?" he questions in almost a pleasant tone. Even though he doesn't have a face, the malice radiating from his eyeless gaze is undeniable.
I cross my arms, feeling a surge of unease as the strange aura surrounding the Necromancer intensifies. I can't help but feel a growing sense of dread because, despite his agitation, he actually seems darkly amused? Rather than the fierce anger that I'm trying to provoke in him.
"You can still get out of this, you know. Leave Middle Earth while you still can," I suggest, my voice tinged with a mix of desperation and defiance. My words hang heavy in the air, the tension between us palpable.
"Why so concerned?" the black humanoid asks, his head suddenly cocked to the side at an angle that sends a shiver down my spine.
"I'm not," I scowl at him. As if! "I just don't want you to resurrect Sauron." The whole situation feels stifling, the air thick with an unspoken threat. I wish I had just turned and run like I normally do instead of seeking him out like an overly brave idiot.
"Because... Sauron will control all of Middle Earth?" he taunts, prodding for more information.
"Never," I hiss, my voice filled with determination. Happy to deliver that piece of information, I continue, "His ring is destroyed and he disappears for good. You can take THAT to the bank."
"Why do you seek to stop me from resurrecting him if he is unsuccessful? In this case, it matters not what you think you know..." he steps forward, his misty tendrils extending towards me. I instinctively shrink back, a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. "for everything can change. In fact, I wager it already has."
Confusion and dread mingle within me, a thick knot forming in the pit of my stomach as Lord Elrond's words flit through my memory. 'Her mere presence here can change all things that come in contact with her, therefore making her knowledge obsolete...'
"So tell me, daughter of man," The Necromancer calls my attention back to him, his voice growing darker, more menacing as he demands, "What else do your fairytales say about me, the 'storybook villain'?"
I take another step back, my previous bravado giving way to the customary fear and wariness I usually feel when around him. Something he just said isn't fitting into the puzzle of my mind. My mind races, trying to put jagged pieces together.
I've told him multiple times that he's not going to be around in the long run. But he keeps ignoring that and just alluded to being the main focus OF the stories. THE storybook villain.
I look at him, confusion along with a thick feeling of dread rising within me — far worse than any I've felt in his presence before.
"What is your name?" I demand, feeling a growing fear inside of me. I clench my hands into fists to keep them from trembling and do my best to sound angry, brave. "Your real name, be...before you were a Necromancer."
A smile spreads across his sightless black face, sending a chill of horror down my spine. "I have had many names," he replies, his voice growing impossibly darker. Strange shadows crawl at the edges of my vision, playing tricks on my mind. But when I frantically look towards them, there is nothing there. "You already know two of them."
I take another step back, my eyes widening in realization at what he's been implying all along. "No. NO! That doesn't make any SENSE! You can't be him!" I protest, my voice filled with desperation and anger.
"Say it," he hisses, the sound reverberating through the room. "You already know who I am."
I ignore him, halfway turning and putting my hands in my hair as I try to talk myself through the panic attack I'm now having. "How could he even be a necromancer if he doesn't even have a body? It doesn't make sense! He can bring people back from the dead but not himself?"
The ring. It's what's keeping him tethered here. He's bodiless without it.
My breath catches in my throat as the answer comes to me, and I look over at him still standing there. The stone walls seems to close in on me, the environment pressing against my senses, suffocating me.
"You're not him." I try to assert, only it comes out a whisper. How could he be?
What if he is?
"Say it," He growls, black tendrils creeping outwards.
"N-no." I shake my head in denial.
"SAY IT!" His voice roars out, echoing as his darkness spreads throughout the chamber around me, becoming a terrible mist once more.
"NOO!" I scream back desperately.
I won't. I can't.
The black mist lunges at me.
I jerk awake, gasping for air as I sit up. The remnants of my nightmare linger in my mind, causing my heart to race and a cold sweat to coat my skin. Adrenaline courses through me, making my muscles twitch uncontrollably. The echo of his angry yell rings in my ears. And then...
"You cannot escape me forever," a dark voice whispers in my subconscious, eliciting a horrified shriek to escape before I clap my hand over my mouth.
But the feeling fades, leaving me uncertain if it was real or just a figment of my imagination.
Tears well up in my eyes, and I whimper, my body beginning to tremble uncontrollably. This is worse than anything I could have imagined happening! If he's actually...HIM...
If THE Lord of the Rings has been the one talking with me this whole time...then he's aware that I'm here in Arda!...And if THE Lord of the Rings is the one that sent Azog after me then...I'm truly screwed.
The enormity of the danger sinks in. I glance over at Bilbo, sleeping next to Bofur, his hand laying over his waistcoat pocket with one or two fingers barely entering into the entrance. A eerie feeling originates from the pocket's direction, reminding me of black mist-like tendrils and I quickly look away, rubbing my goose-bumped arm and thinking hard.
Why isn't he in Mordor?! Are they busy on tower construction or something? Why is he in Dol Guldor?
Everyone lies in slumber, enveloped by the quiet of the night. A hand suddenly touches my shoulder and I'm not proud to admit that I let out another frightened shriek, flinching away hard. My should twinges slightly It's only Bombur, assigned to the 2nd part of tonight's watch. His wide eyes meet mine, concern etched across his face as he crouches his hulking figure down next to me. I flinch away from him yet again, trembling all over.
"Peyton? Are you alright?" he asks. His eyes briefly show a confused hurt as he notices me recoiling from him.
I try to breathe out. It's just Bombur. But my voice is shaky with a hint of panic, nerves shot, "Y-yeah, I'm f-fine. I'll...I'll just...just give me a minute." Without another word, I use my one good arm to stand up on wobbly sore legs, my balance teetering before dashing into the forest.
The memory of the black mist curling around me sends a shudder down my spine, a quiet sob escaping my lips.
Where am I even running to, exactly? There is no place in Middle Earth that's safe for me. Maybe Rivendell, but that's a month and half away in the OPPOSITE direction over a freaking mountain range. Maybe Lothlorien? I remember looking over a map of Middle Earth at Bilbo's house. Should be south of here...
The rational voice inside me forces me to acknowledge that venturing too far from the company is foolish and sooner rather than later, I stumble upon a large empty log that forces me to halt as I smack into it with my knees. It's as if the Valar plopped it right there for me to stop. I stretch both hands out to catch myself on it, breathing heavy.
To make matters worse my stomach decides that now is a good time to let out a loud growl, adding to the music of the night. I haven't eaten a proper meal in...what?...two entire days? I'm starving. The last time I involuntarily went without eating was when I stole my little sister's Barbie doll and hid it in the sofa when I was 10 years old. My dad sent me to my room with no dinner, and even then he felt bad for me and came into my room later with a water bottle and an apple. Going without food has never been an issue for me.
I guess that's the final straw because I finally burst into tears, completely overwhelmed.
After a moment of letting my tears run, I give the log under my hands a thorough inspection for any creepy crawlies before forcing myself to sit my butt down. The smooth wood provides an unexpected sensation that helps me to focus. Listening to the soothing chorus of crickets fills the warm night air, their chirping is like a symphony in the darkness.
I berate myself silently. How could I have been so stupid? I practically told the Necromancer everything! But good will prevail in the end, won't it? It has to! In every fairytale story, it's the same. Right?
But what if he actually DID get the ring somehow? Then-
"What ails you?" Thorin's voice breaks through my thoughts, causing me to startle. Surprise and embarrassment flood through me and I shoot him a glance, my gaze averted, unable to meet his eyes in my vulnerable state. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid by coming all the way out here! I don't want anyone thinking I'm a weak sniveling girl.
"I... nothing. Just... a bad dream," I stammer, trying to discreetly wipe away the tears. All the unresolved emotions that he causes inside me immediately push to the surface, demanding to be heard. But my pride wishes he would leave; I can only handle one problem at a time.
"You should not wander off alone like this at night," he reprimands, his usual gruffness softened by concern. His words shift my worries about Sauron to the background as I focus on him.
Despite my hesitations, I'm surprised by the unexpected relief I feel that he's here. His willingness to seek me out and make sure I'm alright touches my heart. It shows that he's aware of me and of when I'm gone, perhaps similar to how I'm aware of wherever he is. It comforts me like a warm blanket and I can't help but be pulled to his strength, like a moth to the light. But Thorin Oakenshield is unfortunately the biggest distraction of my existence and I need to focus on Sauron right now.
"I'm sorry, I'll... I'll come back in a second. Sorry for worrying you," I half-heartedly try to brush him off.
Still afraid to leave my 'personal Shire', it seems.
I desperately want to bring up everything Ballin had revealed to me earlier. I'm a very straightforward person, much to my chagrin, and I don't enjoy dancing around a problem, preferring to face it head on. But a part of me is afraid to bring this... whatever this is... out into the open between us. For now I can feign ignorance, feign benign friendship...but I know, instinctively, that if this particular box is opened it can never be shut.
Even now, with the Necromancer potentially being Sauron, Lord of the Rings himself, I find myself easily distracted by the tension that exists in the space between us. It feels...important.
But Thorin remains rooted in place, refusing to abandon me in the darkness. I hear the crunch of leaves under his boots as he comes closer, rather than leaving. The earthy scent of the forest mixes with the musky aroma coming off of his leather armor, enveloping me in a comforting embrace. Similar to the smell of the leather from his belt I had clenched my teeth on.
I grip the log underneath me to keep myself grounded.
"Did you dream of the Necromancer again?" His deep voice rumbles.
I take a deep breath and release it, equal parts frustrated and gratified that he isn't going to leave me, as my gaze reluctantly returns to his dark form. "Yeah."
Words spill out, like they always do around him. "I... I screwed up... something, Thorin. At least...I might have? Something that affects the future. Not the quest, though!" I quickly add fearing he'll demand details. Maybe he should. "Just...something that changes everything I thought I knew about what comes AFTER the quest...and...I don't know what to do about it."
"Something that occurs after the quest?" He repeats, drawing near.
"Yes. Like I told you before the Misty Mountains, this quest is just the beginning to future events. The things that come after are... important." Weariness seeps into my voice, the weight of it all pressing down.
Why me? Why do I have to deal with all of this?
'I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had ever happened.'
Frodo's words take new meaning in my heart as I feel, intensely, what he felt as well. I'm afraid, and tired, and hungry.
"And I'm torn, caught between two worlds." I murmur, staring into the darkness, seeing everything and nothing. "I want to be safe, with my family...but I also want the family I've made here just as much."
I hear Thorin take a step forward, his voice incredulous. "You mean... you wish to stay?"
I blink, eyes widening in panic as I realize what I've admitted. I glance up at him, "No! I-I mean... yes? But I... Ugh! I don't know what I mean!" I lament, clutching my head as I grapple with conflicting emotions. "I mean, I can't! I can't have everything I want." The words are a stern reminder to myself. I have responsibilities back home. How could I abandon my family?
'Fee and I already consider you as family, Pey.' The memory of Kili's words come back to me, causing me to inwardly backtrack.
Ugh! My original family, I mean!
"What do you want, Peyton?" Thorin's question hangs in the air, his footsteps closing the distance between us putting him close enough for me to have to look up at him. Close enough to touch.
I stare up at him, my heart pounding as a mixture of disbelief, uncertainty, and perhaps a hint of terror courses through me. I take in his dark, unruly waves of hair, his beard, his lips, and strong nose. Don't ask me that, Thorin Oakenshield, I think desperately. Don't you dare ask me that!
His words carry a weight that hints at something more, something impossible. Everything Balin said about love and joy, about oneness—a gift from Mahal—resonates within me. Everything I want but can't have stands right here in front of me, close enough to reach out and touch.
I stop breathing as he slowly, deliberately reaches down and gently touches my hand with his own. His touch is delicate, like handling fragile glass or a wild animal he doesn't want to spook. His hands are strong, calloused, and warm from years of wielding a sword and working in a forge. The warmth of his hand sends a surge of electricity through my veins as it envelops mine. I gaze at the action, my lips parting in astonishment.
I can feel it! The bond! Or, at least... I think I can? Maybe I'm just imagining it, but it's like a steady thrum in my veins, as if my heart finds completion with him. And, truthfully, I've always felt this way around him: safe, warm, and... right. Or maybe it's just my imagination because I have a name for it now? Somehow, names make things more real, more powerful.
He gently tugs on my hand, pulling me along with it. Silently, I comply, rising from my seat with curiosity, my heart racing. Whenever our hands touch, it feels like he's lifting me up. Up and away from anything that troubles me.
Memories flood back of when I felt his hands—lifting me onto his pony, pulling me from under a dead warg, raising me up after CPR on Nori, gripping my wrists in frustration after the trolls, yanking me into his protective embrace as we fell down the catwalks, holding me when I thought I'd lost Bilbo, cradling me when my arm was popped back in...
"Stay, Peyton," he whispers, his eyes reflecting the same longing I feel.
I must be dreaming. It feels as if my heart is singing inside my chest, a smile curving my lips beyond my control. Our eyes locked in a breathless moment filled with uncertainty and possibility.
But before my brain catches up, so I can plan out what I'm even going to say, Thorin's gaze abruptly shifts, his body tensing. He listens intently, eyes focused beyond my shoulder.
"What?" I ask, confused at his sudden stillness. We were having such an incredible moment! "Thorin, what is-"
"Shhh..." He motions for silence, his eyes urging me to listen as well. I hold my breath, straining to discern the distant sounds of the forest around us. It's quiet until...
Dogs baying?
And then the sound of a distant howl sends a chill down my spine, and my blood runs cold with realization. Azog is coming. He hasn't stopped hunting us.
Fear floods my mouth with a metallic taste. He hasn't given up?! He will kill Thorin, take me to the Necromancer... and then...
My chest heaves with gasping breaths. The weight of impending doom suffocates me.
Thorin's sweet and gentle grip on my fingers turns into a firm vice grip on my hand.
"Come! We must wake the others!" His voice reaches me through the rush of blood in my ears. He thankfully doesn't let go, pulling me back toward camp along with him.
I feel cold as we hurry, the sensation of his warm hand gripping mine the only thing that grounds me in the moment. I focus on that, my traumatized brain latching onto this piece of information like a lifeline. His grip is firm, but gentle, as if he's taking great care to not crush me with his strength as we weave through the underbrush.
Then it hits me—Thorin asked me to stay.
He asked me to stay!?
The realization sends both elation and frustration flooding through me at the interruption of what we'd been about to discover between us.
Aaaarghh! Why can't you just let us vibe, world!? But...what would have been my response?
"Wake up! All of you, get up!" Thorin demands as we reach the others, his voice rough with stress that he attempts to keep as low as possible to not be heard. The urgency in his tone slices through the air, immediately waking everyone.
"What's going on?" Gandalf's asks, his brow furrowed with concern as he makes to stand.
"The wargs. They've found us again," Thorin seethes, his words dripping with anger and frustration.
The company is instantly alert and on their feet, the tension palpable like a tightly wound spring ready to snap.
"We need someone to scout it out. See how many are still after us," Gloin growls, hefting his axe.
"He's right. The eagles threw a bunch off the cliffs." Dwalin agrees.
"If there be less than five then a fight might be the best and only way." Bofur nods, looking around the company.
But this is Azog! I think to myself, worried even as the dwarves start getting hyped up for a battle. I can't save Thorin from him right now! I can't even use my arm!
Psh! Girl, you can't even save him with two arms.
"Bilbo!" Gandalf's sharp voice cuts through the tension and murmuring of the company. "You will seek out this information for us!"
"M-...me?" Bilbo does a double take, blinking away sleep.
"You're the lightest on your feet. And you have that invisible ring, do you not?" Gandalf insists gruffly, his voice urgent at the delay. "Go. Peek over those rocks on that ledge. Tell us how far away and how many, but do not be seen!"
Bilbo looks at me, uncertainty etched on his face. I nod, silently reassuring him. He heaves out a breath and then turns in the direction Gandalf had pointed him to. My heart beats fast as I watch him fiddle with his pocket for a moment before he pauses, squares his shoulders, and the marches off in the direction of the wargs, still clearly visible. I feel both relief and disappointment that he didn't put it on.
Suddenly the horrible thought hits me...The RING! What if Azog gets The Ring?!
Why didn't I just leave it down in the stupid Misty Mountains while I had the chance?! Panic grips my heart, its icy fingers tightening. I clench my hand reflexively as well, only to realize that Thorin's hand is still holding mine. The realization sends a jolt through me, and I look down at our joined hands.
Oh shiiii-...take mushrooms!
I look around at the company with wide frightened eyes, wondering what they think about me holding their king's hand. I want to discreetly pull my hand out of Thorin's before they notice (if they haven't already). But... I really really don't want to stop holding onto him! The comforting warmth of his touch gives me strength, making me not feel so afraid or alone. He also clasps mine as if unwilling to let me leave his side.
Argh! Stupid, stupid Peyton! How do you keep getting into these situations?!
I have to let go.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly release his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch linger for a fleeting moment before I pull away. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch his head snapping to look at me, a silent question in his gaze but I ignore it and walk with feigned casualness towards my coat. The weight of his eyes burn into my back, sending a tingle through my spine and I can't help but replay the words and emotions passed between us earlier.
What would I have said if we weren't interrupted?
Could I have found the strength to utter 'No' even if I had wanted to? Or am I already bound by these unspoken forces that seem to guide our every interaction? It almost feels like... the hands of fate are orchestrating everything to where the decision is being taken from me, if I ever held it at all. Like thin strands of thread wrapping gently and delicately around my wrists, winding with every glance we've shared, every smile, every conversation, every touch...binding me in a knot of emotions until it's as thick as ropes and impossible to break.
And, while part of me feels like I should be upset about it, like Thorin had been about the Goblins being something he couldn't control, there's another part of me that is ecstatic (and a little terrified?). Dare I say, joyful even? He wants me to stay!
"Is this normal, Peyton?" Gandalf asks, coming over to where I'm shaking my coat out as if I could shake out my distracting emotions. "That they are still in pursuit?"
"No," I mumble, barely audible. I look toward where Bilbo disappeared, a sense of foreboding settling in my chest. "No, this is because it's Azog. If it were just regular orcs or goblins we had encountered at the cliff they wouldn't have come this far. But he refuses to give up." My eyes shift to Gandalf's, and worry grips me once more. "Something else I've changed, it seems."
I told him. After Nori and the lightening I told Gandalf that I don't know what to do if the story changes too much. Where do we go from here? What comes next?
"And I told you to not rely too heavily on your story." Gandalf murmurs back, his voice too low for the dwarves to hear. "A great many things must change if you are to save Thorin. It is like a landslide. Remove a few rocks and the whole landscape changes. Let us hope that these changes will be ones needed to affect the final outcome."
I say nothing, the Necromancer's words echoing in my mind, causing me to feel a little faint. '...everything can change... I wager it already has.'
What Gandalf doesn't understand is that wrong changes could have disastrous consequences for the Fellowship.
The company remains mostly silent, a few conversing quietly amongst themselves as we wait and listen. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Bilbo comes running back down the hill, his ragged breathing the only thing that alerts us of his presence. His giant feet make no sound at all as he reaches us.
"How close is the pack?" Thorin demands, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
"Too close!" Bilbo breathes. "A couple of leagues. No more. But...there's something worse."
"What? Did they see you?" Bofur asks, panicked.
"No." Bilbo's response brings a collective sigh of relief from all of us.
"See? What'd I tell you? Light as a feather!" Gandalf chuckles breathlessly, his voice carrying a sense of triumph. "Perfect burglar material."
"I say we take 'em!" Gloin growls, lifting his axe.
"No... wait... listen..." Bilbo tries to say but gets drowned out by the noise.
"There are sixteen of us and maybe five of them," Fili agrees, pushing for a fight. Bifur growls something encouraging in Khuzdul, which riles up the company even further for battle.
"NO! LISTEN to me! Something else is out there!" Bilbo yells, frantically trying to be heard.
Everyone quiets, looking at him in confusion.
"What form did it take?" Gandalf asks cautiously. "Like a bear?"
"Y-" Bilbo does a double take, "Yes! But bigger, much MUCH bigger. How did you know?"
Gandalf glances at me through the side of his slanted eyes, watching my reaction.
A bear? My eyebrows raise as I smile in hesitant excitement, "Beorn?"
Could it be him? Why would he all the way out here instead of at home?
"Who is Beorn?" Thorin demands.
"Great guy, very tall, loves animals...kinda grumpy. I'm sure you two will get along." I shoot a sweet smirk at him. "Oh! And he can transform into a-"
A loud, horrible roar echoes through the mountains, causing us all to gasp and turn in fear. It doesn't sound like a warg or even a bear. It sounds... more like a dinosaur?
"I don't know what Beorn you are speaking of," Gandalf calls my attention back to him, his expression grave. "But the Beorn I have heard tales of...would as likely kill us as he would help us."
My eyes widen and my brow furrows as I ponder this new information. The Beorn in the book was rough around the edges, sure, but had a good heart. Surely that's not something I could have changed with my presence here, right?
"Uhhh, maybe he's just misunderstood?" I swallow, slightly terrified of whatever made that sound. "But... what choice do we have?" I glance around at the company. "Azog's not willing to return to the Necromancer empty-handed. We need a place to hide."
If I was Azog, I wouldn't want to go back to The-Necromancer-Who-May-Or-May-Not-Be-Sauron if I didn't deliver 'the goods' either.
"Then let us depart. We must make haste to his home, lest we be overtaken," Thorin says with determination.
"Very well," Gandalf says, realizing that we really do have but one choice. "If we run, we may reach Beorn's house before noon."
Noon?! A sense of helplessness rises within me as I glance at the not yet risen sun. I haven't had the best sleep in the past two days. Or anything substantial to eat in the past forty-eight hours. Besides the duck Gandalf had found and two pheasants Kili took down, I've been running on empty. And now, I'm supposed to run for six or more hours?
A human woman has less stamina than a dwarrow-dam or an elleth. How in Middle-Earth am I ever supposed to make it?
"Gandalf..." I come over to him, speaking lowly to only him to not alarm the others. Maybe he can give me super powers with his magic? "I've never run for so long! I don't know how I can possibly make it to noon!" I don't look around to see what any of the company's reactions might be, "I'm not sure if I can-"
"Enough." I startle, turning to see Thorin glaring angrily at me, having heard me despite my attempt at discretion. "Do not speak like that. You will make it."
"Aye, talk like that again, lass, and I'll rake you over the coals during your training," Dwalin adds, his thick arms crossed, eyes fierce. "You will run, and there is no other option."
Dwalin's a trainer of warriors, a survivor. He doesn't allow weak talk or self-doubt in his ranks.
"Ok, Ok!" I raise my hands in surrender, feeling both annoyed and worried. I don't mention that there won't be any more training if I can't run for that long. "I never said I wasn't going to run, but I don't have the stamina of a dwarf! What if I pass out from hunger?"
"We'll carry you, lass," Balin says gently. I cringe, not liking the idea of slowing the dwarves down. "But no more talk of 'can't.' Defeat starts in the mind. Don't allow it in."
He then steps forward, extending a sword's hilt toward me with a no-nonsense look on his grandfatherly face. I glance down at the sword he offers. Varzsiel. Hesitant, I accept it, holding it up to my face. The flawless metal mirrors my worried eyes within it, but it serves as a stark reminder: failure is not an option.
I glance up at Thorin, meeting his intense gaze, before shifting my eyes to Kili and Fili, who mirror his seriousness.
If Azog won't give up, then I can't either. Galadriel said that only I can save the line of Durin.
I nod, humbled.
Gandalf humphs in agreement to all of their sound advice, his face set in determination, "Gather your belongings quickly. We leave at once."
I look around, as does the company, and we're reminded that there's nothing to pack. Just the clothes on our backs and weapons in our hands.
As we set off, Gandalf takes the lead, and we charge after him.
We dash through fields of lavender, splash through small streams, and weave through patches of forest, all while following Gandalf in his grey robes and pointy hat. My legs ache and my lungs wheeze, but adrenaline propels me forward. I focus on my breathing, determined not to pass out. If I ever return to my world, I should become a marathoner. I know I can do it now.
In some strange way, perhaps the Valar secretly blessed us by making us lose our belongings? Without my dresses and books, I can travel faster. Same goes for everyone else and their stuff. I would have lost them by now anyway, purposefully dropping them on the ground and leaving them behind.
The odd image of a goblin female wearing one of my hobbit dresses tickles my mind, and I chuckle breathlessly, sounding deranged to my companions.
"You mean that's what I was carrying for you the first time we ran from wargs?!" Fili gawks at me, annoyed when I explain what I'm chuckling about.
I give him a cheeky grin, trying to joke, "Well, yeah. I mean….I couldn't just meet THE Lord Elrond wearing just anything….You know?"
"Stop talking. More running," Thorin growls, unimpressed by my elf-loving comment. He and Dwalin have taken my earlier comment about 'not making it' to heart, not allowing me to rest or slow down. Kili and Fili haven't even needed to help me this time, besides carry Varzsiel and my coat. We've been running non-stop for hours.
"If I had known I was carrying books and dresses, I wouldn't have bothered!" Fili groans, frustrated.
Kili just laughs, giving him a brotherly smack on the shoulder, "She's a woman, brother. They always pack the nonessentials."
I cackle at the joke, exhaustion, hunger, stress (and lack of oxygen) making me more silly than normal. But then his comment hits me and I raise an amused eyebrow over at him, "And what would you know about women, Kili?"
Kili winks, "It's a common enough trait for females. You're like ravens; can't leave behind a pretty bauble or a sentimental item."
I gasp, rolling my eyes and laughing, "Oh please. Did you even see the useless crap in Bilbo's pack? I'm more manly than he is!"
"Peyton!" Bilbo cries in indignation, to which I laugh some more.
"Enough." Thorin orders, frustrated as he notices that my laughing has changed the breathing rhythm I had going for me, and now I'm not getting enough air. "Focus, Peyton. Do not speak until we are finished running."
I huff but obey, struggling for air. At least now Fili is running much lighter, his speed evident from losing some of his armory and my pack. We all are. And I'm stronger, I'm actually proud of myself for how well I keep up my pace!
And it's a good thing too, because this time we don't have a weirdo with super-fast bunnies to draw the wargs away. The baying of the wargs grows louder, closer, urging us to move faster. They're well and truly hunting us, having caught our scent.
Just when it feels like I can't go any further, my blood sugar at an all time low of negative 100, Gandalf raises his staff. "There," he pants, pointing ahead. "Beorn's house."
A large wooden structure looms in the distance in the sunlight, its walls fortified and imposing. Relief washes over me and I am ready to collapse. I've lost feeling in my legs about an hour ago, and I'm so tired!
Suddenly, a monstrous roar echoes behind us. The dinosaur roar.
"Run!" Gandalf yells in panic, fear on his face as he sees something behind us. Cries of alarm echo from the company.
I try to look back, but Thorin yanks me forward, refusing to let me turn around. We sprint the last mile across the field to the large wooden house, and Bombur suddenly passes all of us, running as if he's seen the devil.
He doesn't slow down as he reaches the door. He barrels into it, attempting to shove it open for the rest of us like a bowling ball. But the large wooden door to stay resolutely shut, bouncing him back.
Shoot, Shoot, SHOOT! We're all counting on it being unlocked!
We reach the door, shoving and pushing at it. NO! The dwarves crowd around, heaving and grunting at the thick beams of wood.
"Open the door!" Thorin bellows, panic edging his deep voice.
"We're trying!" I yell back, frantically shoving with all my strength alongside the company. My exhausted muscles scream. It's no use. It's locked. I move out of the way for the stronger dwarves to have more access to it. This can't be happening!
I glance back and see it—a massive, black shape barreling towards us across the field. Beorn.
It's like a scene from a horror film, where the killer is closing in and time is running out. The enormous bear charges at us, a force of nature ready to tear us apart and paint his porch red with our blood. I've always known that if I placed inside a horror movie, I'd be one of the first to go. Not because I'd go towards the sound, but because I wouldn't be able to get away by opening the door, or closing the door, or 'getting to safety' in time.
My heart pounds in my throat, the blood draining from my face. It's over.
Thorin, however, isn't a minor character. Unlike me, he has learned to master his emotions in the heat of battle. He pushes us aside from the door and lifts a latch we hadn't noticed in our panic. We waste no time rushing inside.
The bear is upon us, huge, menacing, and inevitable. My heart drums in my ears, my breath ragged as I quickly back away from the enormous wooden doors, the dwarves rushing to push the thick wood closed. It's too late. We're not going to make it.
Thorin strains at the door with the others, pushing with all his incredible strength.
But then, an enormous black muzzle pushes through the crack, followed by a roaring bear head. I scream, closing my eyes and covering my face, unwilling to watch the company's imminent deaths. Fili has my sword, so there's not much I can do. Once a head fits through, the rest of the body can follow.
But the roaring bear seems to pause at the sound of my frightened scream. I glance up just in time to see enormous brown eyes, almost human, on a hairy bear face before they push him back out, and the doors slam shut. His brief pause gave us the precious seconds we needed.
I stand there, limbs shaking from head to toe, staring at the wooden doors in disbelief. We... we made it? How?! His HEAD was in the door!
My shaking legs finally give out, the blood rushing out of them and I collapse to the wooden floor, wrapping my arms around myself, feeling as if I'm going to fall to pieces. Everything is blurry.
"Peyton! Are you hurt? Are you ok?" Bilbo asks me, kneeling down where I'm at. It feels like there's no air in the room. This is not how it was supposed to go. It's all changed.
"Peyton, are you harmed?" I feel Thorin at my side, his hand on my arm which causes me to notice my lungs are not working.
I force myself to breathe in, feeling dizzy from the lack of air. "I'm... I'm alright. I'll be alright."
Wargs, giant spiders, bears... there's something undeniably terrifying about the idea of being eaten. A primal fear of being consumed by another creature. I never thought I'd react that way to a bear, always thinking they were so fluffy and cute on Animal Planet, like an oversized dog. And sure, I know they're dangerous but I guess that's just my toxic trait. I've never had to face a situation of a wild animal like wargs and bears chasing me in my world to kill me. A deep part of my heart is traumatized.
"Why did he stop?" I hear Bilbo ask breathlessly, turning to look up at Gandalf. "He was strong enough to push through that door. He had us!"
"I am unsure." Gandalf replies, his tone of voice surprisingly casual and breezy as he looks around at the room, as if we hadn't just been running for our lives and almost torn to shreds. "Although… I have my suspicions. I rather think our host is a gentleman."
He then looks at me, giving me a knowing quirk of his eyebrow, before making his way further into the house.
I don't respond, but my mind races as I think back to the encounter, trying to understand it myself. The bear's eyes. They were a man's eyes on a bear's face. I feel myself calm even more. If he's right, then it's a relief to know that Beorn doesn't kill women or children, unlike the goblins, orcs, and trolls who enjoy consuming them.
Suddenly I notice we're not alone. The room is filled with animals, both wild and domestic, their ears pricked and eyes intensely locked on us. The air is thick with a curious silence, even a cow watches us with wide eyes, hay hanging half out of its open mouth as if frozen in mid-chew. Two dogs stand alert, neither growling nor wagging their tails, their eyes sharp and unblinking. Cats, with their silent, calculating gazes, sit perched on various surfaces, while a raccoon and a fox peer from the shadows, their eyes glinting with an almost human-like awareness.
"Umm, hey guys." I wave my trembling hand from where I sit on the ground, trying to make my voice as friendly as possible. I know what the dwarves don't—that these aren't ordinary animals. "We come in peace. We just...need a place to escape some orcs. We'll be gone once we speak with, uh, your master."
My words seem to break the spell. The animals, as if waking from a trance, slowly return to their previous activities. The cow resumes its mechanical chewing, and the animals lower their guard, eyes blinking hesitantly. I breathe out a sigh of relief and smile shyly at one of the dogs. He responds with a tentative wag of his tail. I turn to look up at the company, their faces plastered with curiosity.
"Beorn's animals are intelligent. They aren't like normal animals, so be polite." I explain.
"Excellent advice, my dear," Gandalf calls from further into the room, tipping his hat respectfully to a possum carrying her babies. "We best be on our best behavior."
The dwarves, ever the curious lot, begin exploring Beorn's home. Unfortunately, Gandalf has to repeatedly remind them that they are guests and should act accordingly, even in their host's absence. Bilbo and I exchange a knowing look, wondering where this admonishing attitude was while they were guests in his home.
From what I can see from where I sit on the floor, the house is a marvel, an almost whimsical blend of barn and home. There is a kitchen with shelves lined with jars and pots, a sturdy wooden table surrounded by mismatched wooden chairs, and a larder bursting with foodstuffs. Yet, there are also stalls for horses and cows and goats, and straw covers the wooden floors, which surprisingly don't carry the stench of animal waste. Instead, the air is filled with the fresh, earthy scent of alfalfa and grain. The smell causes my stomach to growl louder than I've ever experienced, pain shooting through me.
Running for five hours is a personal record for me, thankfully shorter than Gandalf had initially predicted. I don't think I could have lasted much longer. Only after a month of walking, climbing the tallest mountain range in Middle-earth, and then running through the Goblin tunnels for our lives was such a feat even possible. Now, I can't move; my glycogen stores are completely depleted, and no one better ask me to. Wooden floors and straw have never felt so good before. I heave a bone-weary sigh as I lie down on my back and close my eyes, my body shutting down.
"There are some more comfortable places to sleep, Peyton." Bofur's voice sounds somewhere to my right. He sounds very chipper for a guy who almost got eaten.
I would smack him if I had the strength.
"No, there's not Bofur!" I point my finger in his general direction without opening my eyes, indicating that he should shut up. "No. There's. Not. Just 'shoosh'!" I put my finger to my lips, emphasizing the need for quiet. I sigh again, allowing my back muscles to relax on the firm wooden floor. The floor has never felt so gosh darn comfortable!
I feel the floorboards creak under the weight of someone approaching and suddenly, I'm enveloped by the scent of leather and musky sweat as strong arms wrap around me, lifting me effortlessly.
"Wha—hey!" My eyes snap open in irritation, only to meet Thorin's handsome face. Instantly, warmth floods my cheeks, adrenaline reinvigorating me. I instinctively wrap my tired arms around his broad shoulders for support, feeling his strong, steady grip secure me as Gandalf did descending the Carrock.
"Ugh, dude. Just leave me on the floor; I've found where I belong," I groan, attempting to downplay the flurry of butterflies in my stomach at his closeness.
"A lady does not belong on the floor," Thorin remarks with a rare smile.
"Umm, I've literally been sleeping on the floor every night since day one! And who are you calling a lady?!" I retort, giving him a look. Inwardly, I tremble. Oh dear. You can't smile and hold me close at the same time, Thorin Oakenshield! There needs to be a law against that sort of thing.
"—WHEN there are other accommodations," he finishes, brushing off my lady comment.
He gently settles me onto a wooden bench that has a small, padded cover. The fabric is covered in animal hair, clearly a favored resting spot for Beorn's animals. If I thought the floor was comfortable, I feel like I'm floating on a cloud now. The filling in the thin pad might actually be soft feathers, if the ducks and geese that just waddled by are any indicator. There's even a wool blanket nearby that I swear I saw the cats lounging on just moments ago.
"Better?" Thorin murmurs, placing me carefully on the makeshift bed.
"Thank you," I whisper gratefully, at a loss for words or actions. My gaze lingers on his, knowing there's much we need to discuss and decide. Am I going to stay?
The comfort of the mattress eases my weary body, but it's Thorin's gentle care that truly soothes my soul. With a sigh, I relax completely into the softness, already drifting off to sleep before he even moves away.
"How come you here?" Beorn's gruff voice questions Gandalf from outside.
"Oh, well, we've actually had a bad time of it, I'm afraid." I hear Gandalf reply, attempting to garnish some of Beorn's empathy against a common enemy. "Terrible scuffle with goblins in the mountains."
"What did you go near goblins for? Stupid thing to do!" Beorn berates Gandalf, unimpressed. No empathy today, it seems.
"You're absolutely right!" I hear him quickly agree with him, attempting to backtrack. "It was a terrible idea...certainly wasn't mine."
I blush from where I lean against the wooden wall as all the dwarves turn to glance at me, their expressions a mix of agreement. It would be comical if it wasn't directed at me.
"Ok, guys. I got it." I huff, folding my arms in embarrassed annoyance. "It'll never happen again. We can move on now!"
Thankfully, Bofur announces to us all that Gandalf gave the signal, ending the judgmental looks as Balin and Dwalin step out.
I sigh, looking down at the straw covered floor. The day had begun with so much promise, too. Enormous bees the size of my hand buzzed lazily around, the rooster had crowed, and warm, inviting sunshine streamed through the windows. Bombur found a bucket of oats and had made us all some hot oatmeal. The horse that the oats belonged to was very gracious to have allowed him to to take them. I wanted to cry as I shoveled warm, plain oatmeal into my shriveled belly.
What more is that I didn't dream-walk last night! Thanks to briefly waking and asking Gandalf for help staying tethered to my body, but I did have a dream that a very large giant loomed over us, watching the company curiously while we slept.
The oatmeal was still in our mouths when the sound of someone chopping firewood made us pause. Gandalf was very nervous about the whole thing and I can't help but feel like an intruder. We were supposed to come to Beorn two at a time, as Gandalf told him our story. Now, it feels backward. We've arrived at his home, and now have to go out to meet him two at a time. Gandalf and Bilbo walked out to meet Beorn with explicit instructions for us all to wait for his signal and not freak him out.
I peek through a large crack in the door. He is, without a doubt, the tallest man I've ever seen anywhere. His hair is huge, his beard up to his cheekbones on his face. He's like a freaking NFL player, standing next to the already very tall Gandalf.
"Do you call two, several?" Beorn questions, and I see him resting his arm on the bottom on his axe his demeanor easy. He strange eyes glance over toward the house to the crack where I watch him and I instinctively duck.
Did he see me?!
"Well, ah, no, there are...there are a few more than two." Gandalf admits.
"Go!" Bofur encourages and two more step out.
"I don't want your services." Beorn mutters darkly, scowling at the dwarves when their services are offered.
"Completely understandable!" Gandalf says, attempting to placate him.
"Go!" Bofur says yet again. And two more come out. I look up at where Bofur stands, confused. The conversation doesn't sound like a signal would be given at this point.
"And, uh...yes, there are a few more to our merry troop." Gandalf's voice sounds strained, as if he's internally sweating bullets.
"A troop, aye? You call six a troop?" But Beorn's growling voice sounds amused...as if the whole thing is ridiculous and he's playing along for our benefit.
"Well, you know, heh." Gandalf tries to laugh it off awkwardly.
"What are you, a traveling circus?" Beorn asks, a tinge of annoyance in his tone.
"Go!" Bofur signals again. Ok. Now I know FOR SURE that Gandalf isn't giving any signal!
"Bofur! What are you doing?!" I hiss up at him where he's at in the window. "Gandalf isn't giving any signal!"
"Yes he is!" Bofur says, looking down at me in confusion. "He's doing this, see?" He indicates with his hand the motions Gandalf was making.
"No! You- OhmyGOSH! He's trying to calm him down!" I say, frustrated and worried. Although, I have to admit that Beorn doesn't seem angry. He doesn't even seem upset, just grumpy and annoyed.
"Oh." Bofur's wide-eyed expression reminds me of a fish. He makes his way to jump softly down. "Well...shoot. There's nothing for it now, I'm afraid. We might as well go out too then."
"Oh Bofur." I groan, rubbing at my face.
At least he has the grace to look chagrined. Until he doesn't and is back to his cheerful self. "Tell you what, you two come out last once Gandalf gives the actual signal. Ok?" I turn and see that Thorin is the only one left besides me, Bifur, and Bombur. Bofur gives us a thumbs up. And with that, he, Bifur, AND Bombur go out together!
"No! Not Bombur!" I hiss, moving forward to stop him. Gandalf said for Bombur to go alone!
"Leave it, Peyton." Thorin says gently, halting me. "It's too late."
"Ok, Bofur is NEVER to do signals again." I growl, both amused and worried at the same time. "He's the worst!"
Thorin says nothing, just looks at me.
"What?" I ask, wondering if there's oatmeal on my chin.
"How are you feeling?" He asks, his expression gentle.
I smile, suddenly feeling shy and I give a small shrug, "Good. Really sore, but I'm alive. You?"
"I am well."
He and I stare at one another, suspended for a moment in time as we find ourselves alone for the first time since our conversation yesterday. My fingers twitch and I want to reach out and hold his hand again.
I clear my throat, "Are-"
"Is that all? Are there any more of you? Where is the female?" Beorn's voice sounds annoyed now that we've tried to fool him and calls us out on it. I glance over at the open door in shock, heart pounding and I meet Thorin's stormy gaze once more. The dream of a large giant looking down at us now seems like less of a dream. He must have come inside in the early morning only to find his floor covered with dwarves. He's known how many members of the company was here the whole time. He did, after all, chase us into here. Some of his bear memories have to be still intact. Suddenly, Gandalf's little game of signaling out more and more dwarves seems embarrassing and a bit pointless now.
Gandalf sputters and stutters, sensing the same thing, but I choose to save him from himself and walk out just then. Only for Thorin to brush past me, appearing in front and to the side of me in a protective manner, his steely eyes sizing up the Bear man. My heart patters in my chest, feeling cared for, but I stand to his side so that Beorn can see me. But Beorn isn't looking at me, his strange eyes are fixed on Thorin.
Beorn's eyes narrow as he scrutinizes Thorin, as if recalling a distant memory. The air grows tense, and the dwarves shift uneasily, obviously wishing they had their weapons just in case.
"Thorin Oakenshield," Beorn rumbles, his voice a deep, resonant growl that seems to vibrate through the very ground. "The tales of your lineage reach even these wild lands."
Thorin, ever proud and unyielding, stands tall, meeting Beorn's gaze without flinching.
A flicker of respect passes through Beorn's eyes as he recognizes Thorin's pride in his ancestors.
Gandalf acts once more as the spokesman for the company. "Beorn, we deeply apologize for our intrusion but we are on a quest of great importance and find ourselves pursued by orcs on wargs. We seek refuge in your home."
Beorn's expression darkens at the mention of the wargs. "They have grown bolder of late," he mutters.
Then the shapeshifter's piercing eyes finally turn to me, and I can't help but stare back, entranced. His eyes are brown and deep, fascinatingly so. Animals always have very deep eyes.
He studies me back as well for a moment before his gaze suddenly darkens with anger as if suddenly realizing something, and he turns to Gandalf once more, "There is deceit in your story, Gandalf. Goblins would not have allowed her to pass unscathed." He then lifts his axe, both hands holding it to his chest, intimidating and dangerous. Gandalf steps back, nervous at Beorn's change in demeanor as he regards all the dwarves with a scowl, "Know this: my house is not a safe haven for liars who bring trouble to my doorstep. Begone!"
The blood drains from my face as the story shifts before my eyes once again.
End of Chapter
Please consider leaving a review if you liked the chapter!
Ok, so here is my long sob story of why I haven't updated in forevers and evers...Reason #1: I just bought a house! I am FINALLY part of the homeowner's club! This is the MAIN reason since it took me two months of A LOT of focus and effort (and paperwork. And packing.) to make it a reality but I PROMISE on my LIFE that it was NOT my intention to make ya'll wait for two months. I've wanted to own a home all my life and I've honestly been so depressed about this horrible economy since COVID because owning a home has been beyond my reach (I had to donate two kidneys to get one, lol. Jk. But seriously. Not cheap. Basically sold myself into slavery to the loan company for the next 30 years.) and now I'm so happy to have accomplished my dream! But now I'm officially... poor.
(I mean, I was already poor living in a cheap 2 bedroom apartment in the ghetto, but now I'm even MORE poor living in a beautiful 4 bedroom house in a peaceful neighborhood! XD) I'm a happy poor though, so don't worry 'bout little old me. There's a difference between sad poor and happy poor.
Reason #2: You all know how I was getting sick all the time? So, I decided to do something about it! I've had Dr's appointments and just had a surgery on my sinuses (septoplasty and turbinate reduction) done! I've had problems breathing since I was 14, always getting sick and now I finally got my surgery! So, I got one week off of work, and (honestly) that's why I'm finally able to update because I have nothing else sucking my time away, lol.
And lastly, Reason #3: When I DID find the motivation to write; I kept procrastinating by getting sucked into writing some chapters from Thorin's point of view! I didn't ever plan on writing from his POV since this is about a mother telling a story to her son, but the ideas and thoughts and emotions kept coming into my head and I had to jot it all down or lose the images coming to me. That's how I know if it's good writing. It'll come to me like a movie in my brain, and I just have to capture it on paper. If anyone is interested in me including those (even though I dunno how to spin it, since it'll be a little odd with the mom telling the story) let me know! I could always post them at the VERY very end as well, after the Epilogue?
Anyways, ya'll are amazing, you know that? If any of you have stories that you would like me to read or edit just let me know. (I'm a horrible procrastinator when it comes to editing my own stories, so I would LOVE to help you with yours! XD)