Super long chapter! The story is halfway over!!! This is also the longest chapter I have written so far Special shout out to my reviewers for chapter 26: Moonlight Starlove, Nana, Guest (capital G), and guest (little g)! I appreciate you all!
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"We all need to decide whether to 'play it safe' in life and worry about the downside, or instead take a chance, by being who we really are and living the life our heart desires. Which choice are you making?"
— Charlie Badenhop
~Chapter 27~
Crossroads of the Heart
"Now, my dear, we must have a very important conversation. The Necromancer, yes?" Gandalf's expression carries a stern and worried undertone as he carries me in his arms.
Nodding, exhaustion weighing on me, I confirm, "Dreamwalking."
The company had only allowed me a couple of hours before it was time to descend since the dwarves needed to sleep too, preferably in some shade.
My arm was put in a makeshift sling to help stabilize the shoulder and the company deemed it to be too dangerous to climb down one-handed. And so, here I am, cradled in Gandalf's embrace, feeling small and vulnerable like a child. I wrap my good arm around the back of his neck for stability.
"Yes, I gathered that," Gandalf murmurs, his voice troubled as he navigates the stone steps with caution. Many of the steps require careful consideration. "How long has this been going on?"
My brow furrows as I struggle to sift through my tired thoughts for an answer. "Since..." I begin, my voice trailing off as I search for the first time. "Since the night before the quest began. It's what made me willing to travel alone to Rivendell. But it wasn't until I spoke with Galadriel and saw the future that these dreams began occurring every night." Worry creeps into my voice as I look up at Gandalf. "What do you think it means?"
Gandalf's bushy grey eyebrows furrow, his clear blue eyes focused on his footing as he continues down the steps, lost in thought. After a long moment of silence, he doesn't provide an answer but instead asks, "What occurs in these dreams of yours?"
I shake my head, unable to tell him the truth about the Necromancer's plans to resurrect Sauron. "He talks to me, asking questions. He wants to know the future," I admit reluctantly.
"Have you told him anything?" He inquires, concern etched on his face.
"Nothing that is useful," I sigh, closing my eyes. I'm grateful that I didn't dream on the carrack, perhaps due to my lack of sleep. The respite, however brief, is appreciated.
Gandalf falls into a pensive silence, his focus on the steps ahead. Eventually, he murmurs reassuringly, "Do not trouble yourself, my dear. Dreamwalking is a common occurrence for us wizards. But perhaps your ability stems from being from a different realm? Your soul is not as tethered to this world as others'. It may mean nothing. Forgive the worries of an old man."
I raise an eyebrow at him, amusement tugging at the corners of my lips at his 'old man' act. The guy is literally carrying me down a mountain. He responds to my look with a pleasant smile, his blue-grey eyes open too wide.
I shake my head with a snort, unable to resist teasing him, "'Innocent' is not a good look on you, Gandalf."
He chuckles, amused before murmuring in a voice that no one else can hear, "I forget that excuse doesn't work on you." He gives me a meaningful look.
"Damn right it doesn't," I retort with a smirk.
Suddenly, Bofur's laughter erupts from behind us, his unique voice piercing through our quiet conversation as we descend the carrack. "Indeed, Gloin! But methinks Thorin would have preferred the CPR, to be honest!"
Aw, crap. And the morning was going so well too...
"Bofur!" I turn, leveling a glare at him over Gandalf's arm. Both he and Gloin and a couple of the other dwarves are joking amidst themselves a couple of dwarves back. They stop abruptly in wide-eyed anticipation, aware that they've been caught. "Shut...up!" I insist with narrow eyes.
Bofur gives me an unrepentant smile, while the rest of the company chuckles at my predictable response.
Thorin, climbing alongside Gandalf and me, has been listening intently to my explanations about the Necromancer and now turns to look back at the members of the company. "What?" he asks Bofur, confusion written across his face.
Oh, right. He was unconscious for it all.
I sigh, debating on whether or not to just tell him. He might as well hear it from me. Otherwise, the company will spin it into a wild tale. I swear, they gossip more than old biddies at a quilting bee.
Glancing over Gandalf's arm at Thorin beside us, I admit, "While you were unconscious, I noticed that you weren't breathing. Same situation as what happened with Nori. And I was going to perform CPR on you, but Gandalf stopped me."
Thorin stumbles unexpectedly, surprising everyone. The entire company surge forward, their hands reaching out to help, but he steadies himself before they can. My heart races at the unexpected clumsiness. What was that?!
"I'm alright," Thorin mumbles, waving away the concerned looks and questionable smirks of the company. He resumes his climb in silence for a moment. I watch with wide eyes, my heart still racing. He looks up at me, and his eyes are filled with a mixture of incredulity, "You would do that?"
"Of course I would!" I reply, turning my head away to hide my flushed face. Trying to sound nonchalant, I add, "I mean, what? You think I would just let you die or something?"
"No, but..." He seems at a loss for words.
A wicked thought crosses my mind, and I decide to turn the embarrassing focus off of me. Turning back to face him, I give a mischievous smile across Gandalf's arm. "Actually, Dwalin was going to help me."
The company erupts into shocked chokes and laughter at my innuendo, fully aware of the truth behind the situation. But their mirth is abruptly cut off as it's now Dwalin's turn to trip. Once again, all the people behind him surge forward, their hands grasping at anything to prevent his fall. Thankfully, Dwalin regains his footing before they reach him as well.
I huff out a laugh in shocked disbelief at how clumsy these warrior dwarves become at the mere mention of kissing. I mean, CPR!
...It's NOT kissing!
"No, Thorin, I wouldn't have. She would have kissed ye, not me." Dwalin growls, his face turning a deep shade of red that suggests a possible burst blood vessel.
"It wouldn't have been a kiss!" I laugh, fearing for poor Dwalin's health. "I've already told you! It's just..."
"Breathing air into his lungs?" Bofur finishes my sentence, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now where have we heard that one before, Nori?" He nudges Nori, who cackles in response.
They aren't helping matters as the company erupts into laughter.
I roll my eyes and growl to myself, "You guys are impossible." Nodding towards Thorin as he carefully selects his footholds, I tease him by addressing the company with mock indignation, "At any rate...you're embarrassing your poor king over here! Royalty isn't allowed to be teased, in case you've forgotten! You can't just discuss things like that in front of him!"
"I can handle discussions like these just fine, thank you," Thorin remarks dryly, glancing up at me with laughter in his eyes.
"Oh, I'm sure you can, Thorin," I shoot him a sweet, innocent smile, "But can you handle Dwalin's breath?"
Now all the company are in danger of falling off the trail, deep laughter echoing off the rocky walls from Thorin and the others. Even Gandalf chuckles under his breath, his chest shaking with suppressed laughter as he struggles not to drop me to my death. Strong old man. I mean maiar.
"I'd watch your words, lass," Dwalin growls in warning, a hint of a smile playing on his stern face.
"Or what? You'll perform CPR on me?" I retort, quick as a flash, sending the company into a fit of chuckles and inappropriate jokes (that I shall not disclose!) yet again. The journey suddenly doesn't seem as tiresome as it did before. I really need to get to sleep though, since I'm saying way too much loopy stuff.
"No, but yer sword practice is tonight. I might be inclined to make it more interesting if ye don't tone it down." Dwalin insists.
"Sword practice?! With my shoulder the way it is? Hah! Good one," I scoff, rolling my eyes defiantly. I won't do it. Point blank. Dwalin will just have to deal with my refusal.
Thankfully, the others back me up.
"She's right, Dwalin. She can't!" Kili speaks up, grinning handsomely. "Not with a sword, or an axe, or even a bow! Poor thing is helpless!"
I'm nodding in smug agreement until that last part and I send him a scowl.
"She won't be able to practice until she's healed. Another few days or so and she'll need to start again for her arm to strengthen." Oin adds pragmatically, close enough to actually hear Dwalin this time.
Dwalin hrmphs! and grumbles something inaudible about how I didn't hurt my sword arm, just my left one. But it's obvious I have nothing to fear as his threat suddenly loses its weight.
I give him a cheeky smile and haughtily proclaim, "Besides! I claim Thorin as my sword teacher, so you can't touch me!"
My eyes meet Thorin's and a small smile graces his face, warming my heart. But just as quickly as it appeared, his expression changes, and he closes off, looking troubled. He averts his gaze, focusing on where to walk, refusing to meet my eyes again. I watch him, concerned by the sudden shift in his demeanor. It's clear something is deeply troubling him, likely related to the situation with Azog.
The rest of the descent is filled with more laughter and teasing amongst the others, making the precarious climb down the rocks all the more dangerous. Every stumble becomes a reason for a joke, every misstep a cause for mirth. And as we finally reach the forest at the bottom, I can't help but feel relieved as Gandalf sets me down on my feet.
The dense forest envelopes us, its towering trees casting long shadows that dance on the forest floor.
I stretch my limbs that aren't in a sling, feeling the strain of the journey in my muscles. But despite the weariness, I can't help but feel a sense of joy.
We've come so far, and despite the dangers we've faced, we've managed to keep our spirits high. Every-time we escape death it only seems to knit us tighter together, like a well-made sweater. By the time this journey is over, I wonder if we'll be so closely tied together that it'll be impossible to untie us. Where will my identity begin and end? Or will these dwarves become so much a part of me and me of them that it'll be hard to even distinguish ourselves from one another? I'm part of this strange, wonderful company, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
"Alright," Gandalf declares, turning to face the company. "We've had our amusement, but now it's time to rest. We have a long journey until we arrive at Mirkwood."
I grimace.
Once more, the weather is as it was before the Misty Mountains, very hot. The air hangs heavy and stifling under the canopy of the trees without the wind from above. The almost midday sun beats down mercilessly, its rays piercing through the thick foliage and casting dappled patterns of light on the forest floor. Beads of sweat form on our brows, and we can't take off our thick coats fast enough. Incredible that we managed to run with these things.
After struggling with mine for a bit, Oin comes over and gently helps me remove the sling and slip my arm through. I scan the area for my pack to store it in before the terrible realization crashes over me...there are no packs. There are no bedrolls to sleep on. There is no food to eat.
All of our packs, clothes, and supplies were taken from us and abandoned in Goblin Town. And if it hadn't been for that horrible storm before the Rock Giants, we would have all left our coats and heavy clothing at the bottom of our packs while traveling. Now all we have are the thick clothes on our backs.
"Is there anything to eat?" Bombur's innocent question hangs in the air, his hopeful gaze searching the company for any sign of food.
The happiness and mirth that had filled the air moments ago dissipates like a fleeting breeze, replaced by a somber silence that settles upon us all as we realize our loss. Just our lives and our swords remain with us now.
"Get some rest." Gandalf rumbles again, "I will see if there are any berries nearby." And with that, he sets off into the forest.
With sad and resigned expressions, the members of the company find spots in the coolness of the forest shade to rest, their movements slow and weary. I roll my coat up to make a pillow and think sadly about all the things I lost in my pack. My three Shire dresses, extra clothes, my books, my university hoodie, jeans, and yup, even my cellphone – all gone.
Everything that was a piece of my old life AND this new one is just...poof!...gone. Except for Varzsiel and...
I put a hand into my pocket, wondering. My fingers touch a hard circular lump and I pull it out with a sigh of relief, revealing my gold Malkuzdar coin flashing in the sun. I always carry it on me. I'm surprised however when, in my other pocket, I uncover the little wooden elephant I had been whittling with Bifur a week ago.
Random. And useless.
Nori has lost his cherished 'keepsakes', Bombur is without his cooking gear, which affects us all, and Bilbo's heartbroken over his silver spoons, his mother's homemade mittens, a feather pillow (plus the one I had taken too), a cat figurine carved by his father when he was a boy, and various other completely useless trinkets. Like two teacups and matching saucers from his great aunt that he brought for 'company teatime' (Which he learned on our first day that it would never happen).
Bofur's lost his lucky underwear but somehow kept hold of his ugly hat, and Gloin's mirror and comb from his wife are gone but he still has the photo of her and Gimli. Oin lost his medic bag but thankfully managed to keep his (now damaged) ear trumpet. Surprisingly, Kili seems unaffected by the loss of his belongings, displaying a lack of materialism that sets him apart from the other dwarves as he still has his bow. Very strange.
Fili, on the other hand, has lost an array of weapons, including an axe, spade, one of his dueling swords, a mini-cimitar, and a pair of knives given to him by Dis. However, I find it difficult to feel pity for him, as he still has his main sword and seven or eight knives hiding in crazy places on him.
Dwalin refuses to even talk about what he lost, and Bifur, well, who knows what he lost since I can't understand him.
Thorin's shield is missing, and Ori...dear little Ori...well, he lost all of the papers that he (and I) painstakingly worked on for months to document the quest. His ink, quills, writing table--everything is gone. The weight of his loss is palpable.
A very heavy price.
"Could have given us a warning, lass," Bombur grumbles, his voice laced with hunger and frustration, echoing the sentiment of the entire company as we all lay down to rest.
I feel awful. "I'm sorry, Bombur. I miss all my stuff too, but we had no other choice. We had to go through Goblin Town," I sigh, avoiding the looks of the company.
"But if you had warned us then we could have saved some things!" Dori agrees with Bombur, his tone reprimanding and angry.
"She did," Gloin comes to my defense before I can say anything. He levels Dori with a look, "But you don't believe in seers, remember?"
"I didn't until I met her!" Dori shoots back.
Suddenly all of the dwarves are standing and arguing amongst each other, just like at Bilbo's house.
"We had to get the ring, guys!" I yell, trying to calm down the mayhem and make them see reason. "Without the ring, we wouldn't survive the rest of the journey! At least Ori can write about the whole thing after we reclaim Erebor! Bofur get can get new underwear, and Nori will get new cards!"
"But you should have told someone, Peyton!" Ori insists, his voice laced with a hint of betrayal. "I trusted you as the assistant scribe!"
Ouch. Can't say I blame him for that, honestly.
"I'm sorry, Ori! Because Thorin tried to change things, I didn't even know if we would reach the goblins until the last second!" I raise my arms into the air in defeat, finally at my wits end, "But I really DID tell people!"
"Ah eh? WHO??" Oin rumbles in anger, which isn't fair since he can barely hear anything I say to begin with.
"Thorin, Fili, and Kili!" I exclaim loudly. "AND Gandalf. AND Bofur! And I know they all told the rest of you because you all talk!"
The company settle down just a little bit, trying to remember.
"Aye. She told us we'd be meeting Goblins along the way." Fili nods solemnly, "And we did tell everyone." I shoot him an annoyed look and he shrugs a shoulder, "They wanted to know why you were upset at Thorin!"
Nori huffs, and petulantly mumbles, "Yeah, but she didn't mention that we'd lose everything, now did she!"
"What do you think happens when you're taken captive by goblins, Nori?!" I round on him angrily. I haven't slept as much as I need and at this point I'm belligerent. "That they would just send us on our way with a pat on our head and a cookie? In the original timeline they even ATE our ponies!!"
The company give a bunch of Hurmphs! and grumbles. Never mess with a hungry group of dwarves, you'll never win.
"She told you all more than she told me." Bilbo speaks up, surprising everyone. He shoots me a frustrated look and gives a half shrug, "I've been kept in the dark more than anyone."
"Bilboooo!" I groan, feeling even more guilty and completely overwhelmed. Honestly, he's lost more belongings than anyone but that's because he brought a bunch of stupid items on this quest! "I'm sorry! Ok? I really am! I wish I could tell you everything, but I can't."
"Now, now, gents," Bofur steps in with a hand on Bilbo's shoulder before he can argue back at me. He tries to smile in an attempt to bring the cheer back to our group, "If ya'll remember, way back, I did tell ya that 'the lady seer' had said we would meet trolls, orcs, rock giants, and goblins. And none of us believed it was true. Including me! The only one who believed was Gloin and Oin and Bilbo."
"Oh!" Bilbo frowns in contemplation before his eyes light up, "Oh yes, I do actually remember you telling the group that. Very long time ago."
Where was I during that conversation?
"She did." Thorin agreed, his frustrated glower returning from before, not having enough sleep either. "However, if I had been successful in avoiding them we would still have all our supplies. We faced them regardless of my desire to do so." He glances at me, his expression strange.
I raise an eyebrow at him, annoyed that, even now, he still wishes we had gone around them. I understand goblins better now though, so I don't blame him. That whole thing could have been an absolute disaster.
Still, his head is so hard!
I lift both hand to the sky and drop them in resignation, "Yeah, then we'd all be dead from Azog hunting us down sooner and wouldn't be able to use any of the supplies anyways! How does THAT fit into your plans?"
The annoyance I feel is replaced by anxiety when he looks away from me, seeming subdued at the mention of Azog rather than facing me head on like he usually would. Why is he acting like this?
"That's quite enough. All of you." Gandalf thunders out, hitting his staff to the ground, silencing all of us. I didn't even notice that he's come back from berry hunting. "Peyton bears no responsibility for the Goblins as Thorin, the leader of this company, admits to having avoided her counsel and advice. Which..." Gandalf looks suddenly confused and gives me look, "Which was to go through the Goblins and would have resulted in the same scenario...?" he hurumphs, realizing his speech wasn't lifting anyone's spirits and tries a different approach, "At any rate, it is for the best! Do you not remember we have wargs hunting us down? With less belongings we can travel lighter. Most of what you brought along was nonsense anyways! You only need one pair of clothing, not five. I mean, look at me!" He holds his arms out, indicating his grey Snuggie.
It would be comical the way all of our eyes lower to the grey robe on his body at the same time if we weren't so upset about our stuff missing.
I shake my head at the tattered bathrobe he wears everyday, "Gandalf, that's not as much of a flex as you think it is."
He huffs, properly offended now, "Never mind that. The point is, stop bickering like a bunch of children! We must exercise caution going forward as I fear our troubles have not reached their end. Come. We must rest, and we shall continue toward Mirkwood at first light."
"You heard Gandalf," Thorin speaks in low authority to all of us, "It is time to rest."
And with that, the argument is over.
The sun is bright, but the company are all asleep in the shadowy trees. The leaves above us rustle softly, as if whispering secrets among themselves, while rays of sunlight fight their way through the dense canopy.
I'm not sure how long I've slept for but certainly not enough, if the scratching burning in my eyes and foggy headache is any indication. But sleeping in the day has never come easily to me and now I lay here, eyes closed, listening to the horrible relentless chorus of cicadas buzzing in the background. Their continuous hum adds to the discomfort in the air.
After the goblin tunnels however, the fresh air is bliss, thick with the 'green' scent of the surrounding forest. I quietly look around at the sleeping dwarves, their snores resonating around the space. It amazes me how they can find solace in sleep on any terrain we encounter on this arduous quest. And yet, one of them is missing.
He sits on a log, a distance away, his signature glower etched on his face. He meticulously sharpens Orchrist which gleams in the bright light of the day. His turmoil is palpable, and I feel an overwhelming urge to reach out and alleviate his inner demons. I know he must be exhausted.
I take a deep breath of the warm air, gathering my thoughts before I stand, struggling with one arm to push myself up.
"Hey." I whisper, approaching the log where he sits on guard duty.
"Peyton," he acknowledges in a low rumble, his gaze fixed on his blade, somehow already knowing that it was me. A slight nod of his head is the only acknowledgment of my presence. I settle down next to him, though slightly apart, and he shifts uncomfortably, avoiding my eyes. The frustration and resignation etched on his face speak volumes.
"You should rest. You need your strength," he murmurs. But I shake my head, dismissing his suggestion.
"Slept all day. Not tired," I lie with a shrug, wincing slightly at the soreness in my shoulder. It's not painful, but the swelling sensation reminds me of the strain I've put on my muscles.
"How is your shoulder?" he asks hesitantly, observing me as I massage it. I offer him a small smile in response.
"It's better. How's your chest?" I inquire, my concern mirroring his. His answer is simple yet vague.
"Better," he rumbles, leaving me unsure of the truth behind his words. I worry about how deep those teeth wounds go. Without Oin's medic bag, the threat of infection looms over us. I have plenty of goblin scratches on my arms that have started to itch.
The weariness of our journey lingers in the air, but my unspoken feelings for him hang even heavier on me. I'm just so glad he's safe!
As I gaze over at the sleeping company, curled up in their makeshift beds, I gather my thoughts. I was hoping for this exact situation, grateful for this moment alone with him.
A sigh escapes my lips as I glance back at Thorin, the heaviness of his emotions evident. "You're upset at me. What did I do this time?" I ask, my voice tinged with frustration. He stiffens, but remains silent, his gaze fixed on the ground. With the past few days swirling in my mind, I attempt to decipher the cause of his discontent. "Are you upset that we went through the goblins?"
"No," he denies, but then, with a hint of irritation, reluctantly admits, "and yes." His indecisive words reflect the turmoil within him. I huff and fold my arms, giving him a pointed look.
"You ordered me to tell you, and I told you the future. I told you what you wanted to know and you tried to avoid it! So why are you angry at me?" I question, my voice laced with frustration. Thorin turns away, his hands clenched into fists, still refusing to answer. Growing impatient with his brooding and confusing demeanor, I lean over and place a firm hand on his forearm, gently shaking him. "Tell me why!"
"Because I can't CHANGE IT!" he growls, finally releasing the pent-up emotions. I stare at him, wide-eyed, as he abruptly stands and begins to pace, unable to contain the torrent of emotions any longer. "I chose a different path! I chose to go a different way to protect the company, to protect you, but it meant nothing! The path is already set before us, and I..." he heaves a sigh, his shoulders falling. "I am hopeless to change it," he finishes in a bitter murmur.
Warmth floods through me as my heart is touched by his concern. A rush of sympathy also brings clarity as I recognize his frustration and desperation to fight against a path dictated by a book. He longs to escape the confines of a predetermined fate, to break free against the constraints placed upon him.
"It's okay, Thorin," I smile gently, suddenly understanding. "I know how you feel."
"No," he snaps with sudden aggression, startling me. He stops pacing to turn his back to me. "Do not presume to know how I feel." His voice drips with petulance and anger, surprising me. The word 'feel' escapes his lips with a growl, as if his own emotions are unwelcome intruders that refuse to leave him in peace.
"You feel trapped, don't you?" I murmur, my gaze fixed on his back. He says nothing, still facing away from me but I know that I'm correct.
"You feel confused and lost and maybe even afraid," I continue calmly, staring at my hands as memories of my own struggles when I arrived in Middle Earth and then in Michel Delving resurface. "You feel as if everything is spiraling out of your control and there's nothing you can do about it and it's not fair."
Thorin turns to face me, his expression intense but with a hint of uncertainty. I nod, a sense of connection forming again between us. "I know because I've felt like that too. I still do, almost every day. Coming to Middle Earth? Not my choice. Coming on this quest? Gandalf's decision. Being chosen by the Valar for a task I am completely unqualified for? Yep, didn't have a single say in that."
Falling head over heels for a handsome dark-haired King? Completely beyond anyone's control, really.
He blinks, hesitates, and lowers his gaze, a gesture I've come to recognize as his response when he is unsure or ashamed. Warmth and affection for this stubborn, remarkable man wash over me. Throughout the quest, he has carried the weight of the company, striving to be the pillar of strength his people need.
"Thorin," I whisper softly, trying to comfort him, "fate may have brought us all together on this journey, but it does not define our choices or our destinies."
His piercing blue eyes meet mine, filled with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "What do you mean, Peyton?" he asks, his voice tinged with frustrated confusion.
I can't help but laugh gently at his stubborn nature, allowing my adoration and longing for him to seep into my tone as I stand up and come closer to where he had been pacing. "I've seen your strength and resilience," I tell him, my voice unwavering. "You have the power to shape your own path, to forge whatever future you want! And even though I felt like all hope was lost when you told me that you were going to take a different path, perhaps this is the better path."
He doesn't respond, and my hand reaches out against my will, gently touching his arm, longing to be close to him. "We ARE free to change the future, Thorin. And things have changed in many ways from what they could have been. But the things that we can't change? We have to work around them."
Thorin's brow furrows under the weight of his perceived limitations. His eyes remained locked on my hand on his arm as he speaks, "You told me that I will reclaim Erebor. That means that I will fulfill your prophecy whether I like it or not. It's my duty to protect my people." He sighs, his voice heavy with the burden of responsibility, "I seem to have no decision on what my destiny is."
I cluck at my teeth, struggling with how to comfort him. "Yes, your duty to your people is important, but..." I frown, trying to give voice to the confusing concepts and thoughts inside. "But...I think...that destiny is not a prison. It's more like... a path? One that can be shaped and altered by our choices."
Thorin's gaze softens, vulnerability and hope lacing his words. "Do you truly believe that?"
"I do," I say firmly, nodding with conviction. "There are some things we can change. You changed the encounter with the rock giants, after all! And the Goblin tunnels were VERY different than how I thought they would go. You are strong enough to embrace your fate while still enjoying the unexpected moments. This whole journey has been changed, but the basics are still there, which is good! The battles we will face will be hard, but we're not just defined by prophecies or the constraints of fate. We have the power to create our own stories."
Wow! I can't help but notice that I'm a lot better at giving pep talks than I was at the beginning of this quest!
"Create our own story," Thorin repeats my words in a rumbling murmur, contemplating their meaning. I watch him for a moment before noticing how close we are. I get nervous and let go of his arm, looking down.
"Um, I also want to clarify something I said on the carrack," I glance back up at him, noticing his undivided attention fixed on me. I continue with regret in my voice, "The situation with Azog was not your fault. It was mine."
"Yours?" Thorin repeats incredulously, clearly taken aback by my statement.
"Yeah, like the Goblin King said, the Necromancer, the one from my dream, put a bounty out for me. If it wasn't for me, you never would have met Azog until after reclaiming Erebor."
Thorin shakes his head, his expression already stubborn. "The bounty was on my head before you and I met. He was searching for me. You bear no responsibility for that," he insists, frustration and annoyance evident in his voice as he rebuffs my attempt to take the blame.
I ponder his words, deep in thought.
"Will that be all, then?" he rumbles, his tone weary. Confusion clouds my mind as I look up at him, studying the strange expression on his face. What else does he want?
"I...also want you to know that I don't blame you for wanting to avenge your grandfather and father. I would have done the same in your place," I softly murmur.
Thorin stares at me silently for a moment before his gaze drops to the ground once more. "I was a fool," he murmurs, his voice laced with regret. "Driven by rage, I didn't think about the company, as I should have. I was ready to die at that moment, caring for nothing except killing that monster." He looks up at me, his face etched with pain. "It was my fault that you were harmed, Peyton. And I... I cannot beg your forgiveness enough."
My heart beats fast at his words, the expression on his face, and the tenderness in his voice. "No, Thorin," I murmur back. "It was your fault that you were harmed... but it was my choice to face Azog. I'm an adult and I make my own decisions."
He doesn't respond, merely shaking his head stubbornly. Dwarves.
Leaning closer to him, I adamantly insist, "It's true! I blamed you on the carrack because I was in pain and afraid of more pain." I roll my eyes and wave a hand nonchalantly, attempting to lighten the mood. "And I hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours, so you should never EVER trust anything I say at that point!"
He huffs, a flicker of amusement breaking through against his will, and I smile back, savoring my small victory. But I quickly regain my seriousness. "I've given it some thought...and...I think you actually saved the entire company by facing Azog. If it weren't for you buying us that extra time, we might have ALL fallen from that tree."
"What do you mean?" he murmurs, his confused gaze intent on my face.
"We needed a distraction for the eagles to reach us in time. Gandalf called for them much later than he was probably supposed to. If you hadn't bought us that extra time..." I shrug, leaving the rest to his imagination.
Thorin remains silent, studying me intently. I notice a subtle change in his demeanor, and he appears more at peace. I'm glad. I can't bear to see him so downtrodden and do nothing.
I lower my eyes, breaking contact with his handsome gaze as I suddenly become nervous once more and unsure of my actions. What am I trying to achieve? What do I want?
I just want him to be happy. I just want...
Something crawls next to my foot, sending a surge of electricity through my body and causing every hair to stand on end. "SPIDER! AHHH!" I nearly jump six feet into the air and find myself landing on Thorin. Quick as a flash, he immediately moves his sword out of harm's way to prevent it from injuring me.
It's a wolf spider. One of the many we have encountered on this journey. Ugly ugly creatures! My heart beats so loud inside my chest that it reminds me of a loud drum as I watch it. Oh gosh...oh gosh I'm gonna... I'm gonna faint!!!!
"Look at me, Peyton. Look at me!" He says, forcing me to ignore the spider that is scurrying away as fast as its hideous demon legs can scurry. "Breathe. It's gone." The second I see his blue eyes, my brain starts to forget about the spider and I can only focus on how close he is to my face. "Breathe."
"How are you so good at that?" I ask after my frantic breathing has finally calmed. I glance down to see that my fingers have been tightly clutching the fabric of his blue shirt. I let go and try to smooth the wrinkles I created.
"Good at what?" he rumbles gently, his deep timber sending a slight shiver down my spine.
"Good at calming me down," I respond, my throat dry as I realize how close we are pressed together. "This is the second time you've done that. Where did you learn?"
"My sister used to have panic attacks every night after the Dragon's attack on Erebor. I learned through trial and error what calmed her down." His voice is a soft rumble and his words carry a weight of experience and empathy as his strong hands gently press against my back.
I am on the verge of kissing him, consequences be damned, when a loud snore jolts me back to reality. I turn away from Thorin, only to see someone's dark leg kick out at Oin who was the one snoring.
"Wha?! What?! What's going on?" Oin snorts himself awake.
I step away from Thorin and he releases me. When had he put his arms around me?!
"Well, uh, anyways," I stammer, my voice trailing off as I blush furiously. "I just... thought you should know that I don't blame you for my shoulder." I feel the need to say it, to ease any guilt or burden he may be carrying.
I turn to walk away, but suddenly, my hand is captured in his. I stare down at our joined hands in surprised disbelief before meeting his gaze.
"Thank you, Peyton," he murmurs, his expression sincere, a hidden turmoil lurking in his eyes. My heart skips a beat as I swallow. I smile, squeezing his hand in mine, relishing the warmth and roughness of his touch. I could hold his hand forever.
"Anytime, Thorin." I feel my heart sing.
Reluctantly, he releases my hand, allowing me to walk over to where my coat is rolled up. My stomach flutters with nervous excitement, and my hand tingles from our brief connection.
And then I notice that none of the dwarves are snoring like they should be except Oin who has promptly gone back to sleep. I don't think the company could have heard my conversation, but I must have woken them all up when I screamed about the spider. Which means they all probably saw me jump into Thorin's arms like a ninny.
Ugh! Kinda hard for me to get back to sleep after that.
The crackling fire releases a cascade of golden embers into the starry night sky, twinkling and disappearing among the colors and swirls of the universe. After I thankfully managed to get a few more hours of needed sleep, the cool of night is now upon us. My thoughts and emotions are gnarled in knots and I glance over at Thorin. He's sitting on a log next to Dwalin, smoking his pipe. Dwalin sits at his side, his eyes scanning the surroundings, always watchful. I can tell from the murmur of their lips that they're talking.
The only sustenance Gandalf could find is a single duck, hardly enough meat for three dwarves, let alone a company of sixteen. We each get a bite-sized portion of the duck meat, unseasoned and without any pot to make a stew with. There are no vegetables either, and Bilbo was unable to find any mushrooms. Our stomachs now ache and growl, yearning for something more substantial after all the running and fighting we did yesterday. Already my pants feel looser.
Bombur, who is normally cheerful, wears a frown and adamantly avoids looking in my direction. In fact, the entire company seems distant, even Bilbo, who is very upset about losing his grandmother's one-of-a-kind quilted blanket that was in his pack.
I know that the company would have lost all their belongings with or without me here. If not in Goblin Town, it would have been in Mirkwood with the spiders, taken by the elves in the dungeon, or ruined during the barrel ride to Laketown. But the company doesn't know that. All they know is that I knew we would face goblins and I should have warned them more effectively. The growling pain of our empty stomachs, combined with our lack of good sleep, creates a volatile mix.
This is the problem with knowing the future. People tend to blame you when things don't go as planned.
Sensing movement at my side, I turn to see Balin settling down beside me with a weary sigh. The white hair on his head reflects a faint orange glow from the fire, casting him in a warm light. Unlike the other dwarves, his hair lacks intricate braids, a detail that holds my curiosity. I can't help but wonder what significance, if any, that it holds.
His gaze meets mine, and a kind smile curves his lips, accentuating his distinctive dwarf nose. "How are you holding up, lass?" he inquires.
Returning his wan smile, I gesture toward my arm, which rests in Oin's makeshift sling. "Ask me again in a couple of days," I reply, my words carrying a weight beyond just physical discomfort. The accusations from earlier weigh heavily on my heart. In a way, the company is right. I could have done a better job of warning them, even if it wouldn't have changed the outcome. It would have absolved me of their blame for the loss of their belongings.
Balin nods, his gaze drifting beyond the fire, lost in the distance. "Aye, I understand the feeling," he murmurs before his eyes return to mine. "Don't worry yerself too much, dear. The company just needs some time. Dwarves are a very materialistic race. Our possessions hold great sentimental value to us. It speaks volumes of your character that you were willing to sacrifice your own belongings as well. Deep down, the company is aware of that."
His words bring a small measure of comfort, and I offer him a grateful smile. Balin's wisdom and understanding always seem to provide solace amidst the turmoil. "Thank you, Balin," I say softly.
It feels almost embarrassing to complain about my problems in front of someone like him. Considering what he has experienced and witnessed in battles; and the devastating losses that he has endured in his life...it makes me realize I need to toughen up a little. It's just some clothes and a non-functional cellphone that I lost, after all. At least I'm alive.
"Out of curiosity," Balin suddenly asks, turning and giving me his full attention, "What do you know about dwarven courting customs?"
Balin's sudden shift in conversation catches me off guard, but I find myself smirking in amusement, "Besides the fact that you bicker and argue with your 'One'?" I question with a playful tone. "Not much. That's about it, really."
He chuckles, giving me a side-eye. "There's a lot more to it than THAT, Peyton," he remarks before growing more serious, his eyebrow quirking. He discreetly nods towards Thorin, who sits alone on the outskirts with Dwalin. "Some in the company might not want me to share this with you, but I believe I must. Otherwise, you will be forever blind."
"Blind?" I question, my brow furrowing with curiosity and a hint of concern. What is it that Thorin doesn't want me knowing?
"Aye, lass," Balin begins, his tone carrying wisdom. "As you already know, male dwarves outnumber females significantly. There's an entire process of courting one's 'One'."
"But... wait," I interject, confusion evident in my voice. "What's the point of courting if you already know that your One is... well, your One? Why not just get married right away?"
Balin shrugs, his expression thoughtful. "A formality, I suppose. Every culture has its rituals. But also, because some courtships do not last."
"They don't?" I struggle to grasp the concept. "How can a courtship not last if your One is your ONE?"
I thought it was clear as crystal to the dwarves who they're supposed to be with. Set in stone, so to speak. Now it sounds more 'human' than before. More guesswork.
"Rarely does Mahal grant the foreknowledge of one's 'One,' lass," Balin explains kindly. "It's a gift you must pursue. You always are given clues though before entering a courtship. Clues such as what we discussed before about how your One will transform your life. Dreams and the like. However, much like a dwarf's knowledge of their craft, it grows with time."
Balin is such an interesting dwarf. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I have to ask, "What did you do for your craft before the quest?"
A sparkle lights up his grey eyes as he shrugs, a hint of pride in his voice. "Oh, this and that, dearie. But my main job was and still is a Contractor."
"A contractor? Like, for building things?" I tilt my head, trying to envision him in that role.
Balin chuckles, correcting me. "No, no. I write contracts and legal documents for my people, lass. Whether it's a private matter between two merchants or between two monarchs. But my specialty lies in courting and marriage contracts."
Marriage contracts? A suspicion creeps up inside me, but I push it aside. Instead, I let out a surprised laugh. "I've never heard of a 'contractor' like that. In my world, you would be called a 'Legal Writer,' I think."
"Aye, whenever a dwarf needs a contract written, they come to me," Balin says with a regal nod. "There is only one official Contractor for each of the Seven Dwarf Kingdoms."
I nod feeling impressed. Balin's diplomatic and advisory personality to Thorin aligns perfectly with his position as the Legal Writer for his people. I'd thought it's just because he's old and wise, which he certainly is. But now as I recall the way he'd delicately placed Bilbo's contract on the chair before we set off on our journey, it occurs to me for the first time that he must have wrote it up himself.
Add that to his incredible warrior persona and versatility...Balin's skills are truly amazing.
"Back to this courting business," Balin continues, not allowing himself to be sidetracked. "Dwarves do not enter courtship lightly. It carries immense responsibilities. A suitor, always a male, is tasked with protecting his One with his body at all costs. If any harm befalls her, he is deemed unworthy, and the courtship may end at either party's request. However, if both the suitor and female are harmed in the situation, the courtship may endure."
"The suitor is always a male?" I listen carefully. "But what if a female wanted to court a male?"
Balin's brow furrows, and ponders the question. "A female never needs to prove her worth, Peyton. We all know that she is priceless, beyond any gem. If the females of our race were to pursue their desired partner without any fuss, there would be no need for courtship."
"Without any fuss?" I raise an eyebrow at him and wish I could fold my arms and level him a glare, but with my arm in its sling it doesn't look right. "So, you're saying that female dwarves are more blind and stubborn than male dwarves?"
"Aye," he laughs, amused by my annoyed reaction. "But now I believe it may just be females of any race." He winks, assuring me that his words are meant in good humor.
I roll my eyes at that. I'm not angry, just annoyed. I still don't know what it is he thinks I'm blind about, though. I'm a very observant person!
"Anyways, a suitor must go through a process. After deciding to court his One, he gives her a bead to braid into her hair in a specific type of braid that signifies to all that she is taken. It would be very unfortunate if a dwarf unknowingly flirted with a female who already had a suitor. The braid and bead help distinguish her. The duration of the courting period can be as long as the female desires, and is written in the contract," Balin explains, his voice carrying a touch of nostalgia. "Finally, when the time is right, the courtship turns to marriage as we partake in the sacred oath-taking ceremony. It is a sacred event, where both individuals pledge their undying loyalty and devotion to one another. This oath and new contract is witnessed by friends and family. There are a lot of other details, but those are the basics.
"Balin, this is all very fascinating, but I don't see how any of it relates to me," I confess, a tinge of sorrow lingering in my words. "I'm going back home when this is all over, and there aren't any dwarves in my world."
A strange pang resonates in my heart at the thought of returning home. I inwardly sigh, wondering how I could have allowed myself to develop these feelings. Or rather, I know HOW it happened but...how could I have let this happen?
"I'm flattered that you think I'm worthy of courting a dwarf, though!" I try and add graciously. There's only one dwarf I'd be interested in courting and he isn't interested in me beyond friendship.
Balin is silent for a moment, his grey eyes studying mine beneath his white eyebrows as he processes what I'm saying and thinking who knows what. His gaze is intense, and his words carry weight, "I advise caution then, Peyton. Dwarves are an emotional race. We feel deeply and our blood runs hot like the blood of the earth. We express our emotions through actions. Do not give hope where there is none."
My mouth drops open in stunned silence, cheeks flushing with heat. I had never expected such a reprimand. I open my mouth to protest, but the words die in my chest at the look he gives me. Balin knows. He knows that I have feelings for Thorin. But does Thorin know? Does he hope?
That small glimmer of hope that I thought I had extinguished after overhearing Thorin and Gandalf suddenly ignites and blooms within me, as if it had never been destroyed in the first place. Damn it!!!!
Hope? What am I hoping for? And more importantly, when have I given hope?
"But... but I haven't entered into a courtship with anyone!" I weakly protest, confusion and panic intertwining in my voice. Have I unintentionally entered into a courtship and done something taboo?!
Balin sighs, his voice tinged with embarrassment as he acquiesces, "No, you haven't. However," he glances over at the rest of the company who take no notice of us, seeming hesitant to discuss the matter openly, "someone is treating you as if you were in a courtship. They bestow upon you some of the privileges and respect that come with it, even though no contract has been signed and no bead given." Balin sighs again, as if disapproving yet unable to fully halt the unfolding situation. "He can't seem to help himself, and I can't entirely blame him, lass. None of us wish to see you come to harm, and extra protection is good...However, when you mentioned that your injury was his fault, it deeply affected him. You bear no responsibility for his emotions, of course, but he took it to heart."
My thoughts start to spin inside my head, making me feel dizzy. But more than that...the rush of warmth and happiness flooding my heart, almost painful in its intensity. Has Thorin talked about me to Balin or is Balin simply observant?
Balin continues softly, "I share these things with you so that you can understand more about our culture and make informed decisions. Without this knowledge, you would not be able to decide how to proceed."
Balin and I lock eyes for a moment, and I notice something intriguing. He hasn't mentioned Thorin's name, not once, even though it's evident that we both know who he's talking about.
Plausible deniability, I realize. Clever.
I glance over at the dwarf king, my emotions a mess. Why hasn't he asked me to court him then? Probably because I'm going home.
Am I going home?
"I don't know what to do, Balin," I whisper, tears welling up in my eyes as I finally admit, for the first time, that I'm struggling with the idea of leaving Middle-earth. It strikes me as interesting that it's Balin's grandfatherly kindness that breaks through my defenses, allowing me to admit something I haven't been able to admit to anyone, barely even myself. Perhaps it's because I know Balin can exercise discretion and I trust that he won't speak of this to anyone. "I just... I don't know anymore. I..."
His stern expression softens immediately, and he places a large hand over mine, offering comfort. "There, there, my darlin'...I understand what you must be going through, and my old heart aches for you. To be torn away from your loved ones, with the possibility of never seeing them again?... 'Tis an agony that no one should have to bear." He pauses, his kind grandfatherly face turning earnest as he leans closer, whispering with great emotion, "But... perhaps!... there is a reason for it all? Hmm? A reason why you, of all people, were sent here with knowledge of the future? Why you were sent to him?!"
I meet Balin's kind gaze, feeling a mixture of warmth and shock as the words of Gandalf and Bilbo finally hit me like a lightning bolt. I can't believe I didn't see it before! How blind I've been, just like Balin said! I think back to Bilbo's words on the carrack and Gandalf's hints from the very beginning. They both believe that the Valar sent me to Middle-earth not only to prevent the deaths of the line of Durin, but also to continue it.
Oi vey.
Quickly, I look down at my hands, preventing Balin from seeing the tears welling up in my eyes. "But, Balin, I'm not special! I'm just... Peyton! Peyton Silva! You guys have no idea how ordinary I am. Less than ordinary, even! Besides being transported to another world by a coin from a magical book and knowledge of what happens on our journey, I'm really not as amazing as you all think I am." I certainly sound amazing, as I give voice to all the incredible things I have done so far and have yet to do.
"You are special, lass, make no mistake," Balin replies with utmost sincerity. "Human or not, you would be most welcome amongst our people in Erebor."
His words have the opposite effect as the warmth and hope fade into heavy disappointment as I recall Thorin's words to Gandalf. A disbelieving, bitter laugh escapes me unintentionally, and I lean back, gently pulling my hand away from Balin's warm grasp. Resting my elbows on my knees, I stare into the distance, my expression serious and distant. "Your king doesn't think I would be," I admit, my voice tinged with sadness.
"What?!" Balin exclaims incredulously, leaning away from me in shock.
"He doesn't think I would be welcomed among the people of Erebor," I clarify, a mix of disappointment and confusion coloring my voice.
Balin looks utterly flabbergasted, but he seems to choose his words carefully. "And... he told you this? Directly?"
My brows furrow, pausing to consider his question. Did Thorin really mean that or did he say it to mislead Gandalf? I mean, that's something I would do, honestly. Could it be that Thorin actually likes me but denies it, just like I do?
"Most people would never accept me, being human and all," I weakly try to evade Balin's question, quoting what I overheard in Thorin's conversation with Gandalf. But my mind races as I revisit the conversation in a new light. You know what they say about eavesdroppers - they rarely get the full story. Lost in my thoughts, I barely register Balin's next words.
"I'll talk to him, lass," the old dwarf declares solemnly.
"Balin, no," I shake my head frantically. That's the last thing I need right now. "Let me figure this out on my own. Let me... let me think about this. I do have a mission the Valar tasked me with, and... yes, it does involve him, but... it's not in the way that you, Gandalf, and Bilbo seem to think!"
Galadriel's mirror confirmed that I am here to physically save Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli. There was nothing beyond that, except... a fiery eye and an evil hand reaching towards me...
I shiver, absentmindedly rubbing my sore shoulder as I allow myself to remember my disastrous encounter with the Defiler. If I thought I couldn't defeat Azog before, I now know with certainty that I can't defeat him now. And if I can't do that... then what's the point of dreaming of a future that can never exist? The whole situation makes me want to scream and tear my hair out.
"Just... think about what I've said, hmm?" Balin requests, his eyes filled with sadness as he misinterprets my words. "Love and Happiness are worth more than all the gold in Erebor."
I nod, offering him a genuine smile, "I completely agree."
Balin studies my expression, seemingly pleased with what he sees, and relaxes ever so slightly. His voice turns conspiratorial, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "You would be fulfilling a lifelong dream of mine," he says, leaning back with his hands folded comfortably across his chest.
I tilt my head in confusion. "And what dream is that?"
With a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, Balin responds, "I was the Contractor's apprentice when he was born. My lifelong dream since he was a wee babe has been to write up his courting and marriage contract."
A few minutes later finds me collecting wood slowly, enjoying the excuse to have a moment of quiet to myself away from the watchful eyes of the company. With my arm snug in its sling, I'm not that effective at it, but finding moments of solitude while traveling with fifteen attentive companions is almost impossible. Balin said he would cover for me.
The events of the past day press down heavily on my mind. Once again, I've come face to face with Death's sharp toothed grin, and watched Thorin and the others almost die. I had gone through the torture of believing Bilbo to be lost to us in the depth of the mountain, and went through the awful despair of thinking Azog was going to win.
It's moments like these that change a person, shifting priorities and granting a new perspective. It reminds me once again of what is most important to me- love, family, and friendship.
Even though Thorin and the company have narrowly escaped being devoured by trolls and torn apart by wargs...the close call of almost being beheaded by a Goblin King AND an Orc King on the SAME DAY is simply too much. What's up with evil creatures and heads?! (And what a handsome head he has too...)
And at last, I reach my main problem...
I believe that this overwhelming, confusing, obsessive feeling of adoration and devotion and longing I feel for Thorin is Love. It's the strongest and most confusing range of emotions I've ever had for anyone, causing my heart to ache at the mere thought of leaving Middle Earth. Again, I find myself questioning how this happened? Why did I allow myself to fall into this predicament?
And now, against all odds, he might actually feel something for me in return?! It's all so incredible and magical and wonderful and...
Maybe… I should stay?
I pause in my stick gathering, frozen by the idea. It's as if I've become two people, one side questioning the other. "Stay in Middle-earth? With wargs, orcs, trolls, goblins, and necromancers?! How can you even entertain such a notion?!"
But the other side argues back, "There are good things here too. The hobbits, the elves, the dwarves, and the breathtaking scenery. The air is cleaner, the food fresher. No cellphones to suck away your soul, but instead, you can focus on the deep friendships and relationships you've formed. Not to mention the heart-stopping adventures!"
I let out a sigh, leaning my back against a sturdy tree, allowing the peaceful sounds of the forest to envelop me. The distant voices of the company reach my ears, their laughter occasionally punctuating the tranquility.
I always had a suspicion, with the way Thorin looked at me and the soft blushes he sometimes got for no reason. But I forced myself to believe it was for some other reason, never allowing the idea of someone like him falling for someone like me.
But the conversation with Balin made it clear that Thorin feels something for me, even without mentioning his name. I would be a complete fool to ignore that. From the beginning, he has shielded me and protected me over and over again at all costs. It's why I subconsciously seek solace in his presence and confide in him more than anyone else. And when he failed to protect me, he believed he had failed to prove himself worthy according to their dwarf customs which is why he started acting weird.
Wow.
Falling in love with a guy like Thorin Oakenshield has been as natural as breathing, while not falling in love with him would be equivalent to climbing straight up the Misty Mountains and bypassing the trail. It's an all-consuming force, and now I must decide what to do with it.
But what about my other family?
What they would say if they could see me now and knew that I was ok? If they knew that I was...happy here, even? They would want me to be happy, I know that. So, would they begrudge me staying even though it would mean never seeing them again?
I ponder what they would say.
If any of my brothers were suddenly dropped into Middle Earth, they would stop at nothing to get home to their wives and children. And rightfully so. Perhaps they would even handle it with less of a mental breakdown than I have had.
But this whole time, I have been trying to do what they would do in my place - complete the quest and then return home. Like a video game or something.
But...is that what I should do? I don't have any children to come back to. Not even a boyfriend. I love my nieces and nephews as if they were my own, but they have plenty of other uncles and aunts. They don't necessarily need me to be happy...right?
The memory of their saddened faces in my dream of the birthday party flashes through my mind, causing me to wince. Ok, ok, fine. I do bring happiness to their lives. But that's only because I'm a freaking cool aunt!
But sad things happen all the time. Death is an inevitable part of life. Just look at Thorin! He has lost everyone he held dear, except his little sister, and he turned out ok!
Well, scratch that... he definitely needs some major therapy. But apart from that, he turned out ok!
It would undoubtedly be difficult for my parents, but could they eventually move on? (After therapy, I mean.) And they have five other children and a growing number of grandchildren to ease the pain...
I find myself caught between two worlds, with the journey now halfway complete. What will my decision be once I reach its end?
End of Chapter
Lots of fluff in this chapter! Character growth and character backgrounds expanded! Next chapter is Beorn's house! Hooray!
I loved hearing the guesses from my guest reviewer on the 20th, lol! Hate to break it to you...but no, his name isn't Thorin Jr. XD I knew you people would think that though! Muahaha! It IS a Middle Earth name, though. Any other guesses? You'll be very surprised with the ending. Hehe. I've read stories where the heroine goes back to earth with Thorin, but like I told you before, this story is unlike any that I've read before. Just don't hate me (please)!
Hope this cleared up the confusion from the last chapter where Thorin was acting weird. I don't take credit for any of the courting information. It's all from Nathalie_95 on Wattspad.
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