Chapter 23

I can't sleep. The unease in my chest won't let up and it feels like it could consume me from the inside out whenever I close my eyes. 'I shouldn't have let Gandalf talk me into this.' Guilty regret leaves its oily presence on my conscience, making me feel awful about sending the twins away and even worse about feeling guilty when the cause is so justifiable. What's done is done and cannot be undone, so I'd best stop beating myself up about it and go to sleep... 'But I feel so awful.' I sigh for the hundredth time before kicking off the silky sheets and leaving the horribly comfortable bed behind.

For all the luxuries the room provides, it does nothing to keep me behind the closed doors as my legs carry me throughout the darkened halls. The morning is a long time coming but I wish it was here already so we could just get this over with. 'I feel like Mario from all the times I've had to save this princess Peach impersonating world.' Why aren't the original heroes enough? I kick at the floor; scuffing it before rubbing the black mark out (manners) and continuing on. Coming to a sealed door I peer at the blockade curiously, wondering what is behind it but turn away with a shrug. A pulse runs up through my stomach causing me to freeze before turning towards the door again. It isn't painful, nor is it a pleasurable sensation, however it is… insistent. I've had this feeling numerous times since I came back and I'm growing tired of it.

"Why have you brought me here?" I ask angrily, figuring that something in my subconscious mind must have brought me down this dead end corridor and isn't ready for me to leave just yet "What's behind this door?"

"It is the storage chamber where your belongings from your previous voyage have been kept." Elrond's voice drifts to me from down the hall and I glance in his direction, giving him a nod. I'm not surprised he's here, though why I'm not surprised is unknown to me. He does not seem surprised to see me either. His light footsteps signal his approach until he is standing beside me and we both stare at the door in silence. I wait for the tan robed elf to break the stillness, feeling as though he has more to add to his previous statement "It also houses the mace of Azog the defiler."

"O-Oh?" I stutter as another chillingly warm pulse rushes through me, drawing me closer to the door "Why have you kept it?"

"It was you who brought it here, your highness, and therefore not mine to dispose of without your permission."

"I see." The two of us face the door again, once more without speaking. I know he is waiting for my permission to throw it away but I can't give it. Not until I'm done being afraid. The mace is just an object, not even a cursed object, and I refuse to let it have any power over me. The ring is enough of an annoyance "I need to see it."

"… As you wish."

He pulls out a large set of keys, unlocks the room, and leads me into the darkness lit by his single candle. I spy the mace easily enough and quicken my pace to stand before its menacing spikes. The black iron is just as rough as the day I took it, for it was never all that smooth to begin with. Of course, then again, why would it be? An orcish weapon by design, the mace is crudely made to intimidate. I'm sure that I'd skin my palms on the dents and uneven ridges if I attempted to lift it. Still, I reach out and touch it simply because I can. 'Because I have to.' The metal is cool against my palm but that's all. It doesn't leap up and bite me, not that I thought it would. It can't without the will of another. Even as I think this, my head snaps back suddenly as my mind is filled with information.

It is a serene scene for Azog to gaze upon but soon... soon he decides that enough time has passed and joins into the fray. With a mighty roar, he smashes any that is close enough for his mace to reach. To him, there are no allies or enemies; there are only those who will fall to his might. Spying his prey battling against a lowly goblin, the mutation draws his mace back and strikes the dwarf before he has time to acknowledge his presence. Such force is put into the blow that Thror's head is nearly wrenched from his neck. As he falls, it hangs on by thick cartilage and fleshy meat before the pale orc rips it completely free.

"Father, no!"

A horrified bellow is let out and it draws Azog's attention to the new uncrowned King. However, he finds the passion that he seeks in a much younger dwarf. The same one who attempted to defend the former king's honor. Smirking cruelly, he hefts the head of the dead king to show it off to the young prince. The stunned dwarrow watches the bloodied sphere bounces toward him, leaving behind wet imprints on the already blood soaked ground. The other dwarves call to him, giving the orc the name of his next kill: Thorin.*

I'd call to my husband if I could find my voice but I am forced to be a silent watcher as the images burn across my vision.

Raining blow after blow on the dwarf's recoiling form, Azog aims to carry out his oath. The tired dwarf offers little resistance against the battering of his enemy's mace. Thorin lifts his shield to block the first blow only for it to be knocked from his grasp. Tucking into a roll, he raises his sword as a means of forcing the blood thirsty creature back but the weapon quickly follows the fate of its counterpart. The force of the blow flings the dwarrow down a slope and Azog leaps after him, ready to continue the battle. Slamming his mace in a downward arch, the orc barely misses the dwarf as he rolls out of the way. Azog grins as Thorin lifts a small branch of oak against his melee, knowing it cannot hold out under the onslaught for long. It only takes a few strikes before the orc's rival is revealed once more. Standing over his heavily breathing opponent, the defiler's chest fills with dark glee at what is coming. He stares down into eyes he has met many times before.*

"Ah!" I throw down the mace, successfully knocking myself out of the memory before those twin ice glaciers can lock onto me. Shaking, I wrap my arms around myself tightly "No.. I … no."

"My lady…" Elrond's hands are gentle as he bends down to grasp my shoulders. I don't remember dropping to my knees but sure enough, we are on the floor as he strokes my back softly "A memory not of your own but of the old has plagued you. Be calm, you are safe."

"I-it felt s-so real l-like a... a memory?"

"It was just that: a memory of the weapon itself."

"A memory." I repeat, trying to force down the shaking of my limbs "Did you… did you see it too?"

"No." His response is clear and to the point. Solid. It helps to ground me and I think he knew it would "However, I have no doubt it was unpleasant. Would you like to share your vision?"

"Uh uh. I mean, um, no." My childish reply has the elf offering me a small curve of his lips before helping me to stand "Sorry about that."

"It is of no consequence. Many, myself included, have experienced unsavory visions forced upon us from time to time." he dips his head gracefully, once again giving me spacious privacy "It is a burden common of those who are to guard Arda."

I nod in acceptance, as I suppose I am a sort of guardian now but thankful that he isn't going to push me into revealing what I saw. The battle of Azanzulbar. 'It felt like I was there.' The vision was much more realistic than I've had thus far... they get stronger each time and its... frightening. Peaking at the mace with renewed fear, I force myself to approach again. The image may have been imprinted on the item but it was my gift that allowed me to see it and I can't fear myself.

This weapon has taken so many lives and would have taken more if not for its removal from Azog's hands. Hand; he only had the one. It would have killed Thorin and stolen my chance of ever having my twins. Killed my hopes of ever being truly happy but here it is; unbroken despite its previous owner's demise. Clenching my jaw I grip the handle and I lift it with ease that should have been impossible, even with my gifts. After a moment of nothing attacking my retinas, I grow bolder. Twirling the spiked staff like a baton, I offer Elrond a quizzical glance, finding him far across the room.

"I shouldn't be able to lift this." I state, giving it a test swing

"It would seem that the ring of power is altering... or corrupting your gifts from the Valar."

"...By how much?" the question is met with silence as I give Elrond my full attention "To what end?"

"The outcome of this is… unforeseeable." he stares blankly at me for a moment before gesturing towards the door. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was uncomfortable. Taking the hint, I exit the room with the mace in hand regardless "Why take it with you?"

"… I want to throw it into Mordor." I say, ignoring his intense examination. He's studying me, I know, but I'm not in the mood to call him on it "That's the closest I'm ever going to get to hell but it's where this thing belongs."


As morning peaks over the horizon, we march. Four hobbits, an elf, a dwarf, a wizard, and two (or three if I count myself) men. It's... boring. No one jokes like Bofur did or mothers like Dori or teases like Fili and Kili. We just… walk. Sure Legolas offers me a grin every once in awhile when Gimli tries to pamper me as Boromir torments me without mercy but it's not the same...

I never fell in love with the LOTR like I did the Hobbit or rather, Thorin. I don't belong here and I think about him often. I ruminate on how he would have dimmed his scowl as the fellowship exits Rivendell, more than happy to be away from the elven city. I reflect on how instead of Gimli, he would offer his hand to help me over the rocky paths. I imagine what we would talk about to make the time go by, and what we'd do when talking wasn't enough.

The nights are the worst; often leading to me waking in the dark hot and unfulfilled, scrambling to cover my chest before the others notice the burning light. Though meant to symbolize pain and courage, it has always burned brightest when concerning Thorin, regardless of the reason attached.

For all intents and purposes, I'm not exactly hiding my gifts. Gandalf and Legolas know I have them and Gimli ad Frodo suspect, but neither am I flaunting them. 'I bet Boromir would have a cow.' With boring days and unsatisfying nights, I quickly begin losing what very little cheer I stored up from my rainbow and unicorn days. (Also known as NONE to begin with.) By the time the misty mountains rise high on our left, I've worked my way into a melancholic mood that spreads to anyone foolish enough to venture too close. This is why it takes me so long to realize that I'm having a hard time understanding anything anyone says.

"We must hold to this course west of…. If our luck holds," luck? We are in possession of the world's foremost evil object to date and he says something as silly as 'luck'? We obviously have none "the Gap of Rohan will still be open to us. From there, our … east, to Mordor."

"Gandalf." I call, feeling a tad bit nervous when the entire procession halts. I hold my ground, figuring this is probably something I should mention "Can I have a word with you?"

"Of course my dear." he dismisses the others and I roll my eyes at Boromir's suggestion that I've broken a nail "What can I do for you?"

"Thisisgoingtosound-"

"I'm sorry but if we are going to speak, please use a language I can understand, hm?"

"I'm trying but it's doing that on it's own."

"What is?"

"My gift of language. Furthermore I'm going to mention that your plan, while I'm glad you have one, will ultimately fail disastrously." I say it so flippantly that the wizard only has a moment to huff in annoyance as I rush to finish before no one can understand me again "AND, I'm worried."

"Oh? About what?"

"My kids. I just… I feel like something is wrong." Rubbing my arms, I look up at the mist capped mountains "I can't 'feel' them, or anyone for that matter. I nearly freaked out the first time I tried but found that it's not just them."

"Hn." tapping his chin in the thought, Gandalf leans on his staff. His weight pushes the rod into the dirt, leaving a nice little circular imprint on the ground "Have your other gifts been affected? Your growing language barrier included."

"Ah.. um ok. A little. Elrond said that some would be corrupted by… you know…" I shrug and vaguely gesture at my stomach. I'd been staying as far as politely possible from Frodo and his burden, but it doesn't seem to make a difference "The language isn't gone but… muffled or blocked at times."

"I see. Does this occur often?"

"A couple times a day maybe. I haven't been paying much attention to you guys. It's usually a chunk of time rather than spread out." I hang my head at having to admit that I've been so in my own head that I didn't notice I wasn't speaking the same language as the people in my group "My gifts of protection don't seem affected but i'm not sure about water."

"And your teleportation?"

"Well…" I make sure the rest of the group isn't watching before I jump as far as I can, letting out a depressed sigh when I only make it about a hundred feet. Returning to the wizard I sigh again sadly "It's here but not as strong. Limited."

"It is possible that the ring will not let you go very far from it."

"..." I force myself not to blame him for that "Yes, well..."

"A shame. That would have come in most useful in times of peril."

"Tell me about it."

"This is unfortunate news."

"Mmmm. Strength has clearly been altered, but so far i think that's only in the case of the mace. Ah, what else what else…" I try to think of any other disturbances while watching the hobbits. Even with the impending doom that is fast approaching, they seem full of life. Each smiling face is like a tiny beam of sunshine and I feel a little warmer with them around. Their warmth never really reaches the deep ache in my chest though. That gift has yet to even wane. My love for Thorin causes me the most pain when we aren't together but I welcome it, lest I forget "I think that's it for now."

"You appear to be taking this quite well, my dear."

"No I'm not." I correct swiftly arching a brow of mine when he cocks his "I lost my mind with worry, gathered it again, and put it into place before I came to you."

"That is an impressive feat to have happened right under my nose. I HAD thought you were much too quiet these past few days. We will see how your situation progresses before making any drastic decisions." his hum is low as he smirks with a wink, before redirecting the conversation "Have you any suggestions since you believe my course of action will ultimately fail?"

"No. Let us go your way. No one dies so I've no real problem with it but know we will ultimately go through Moria."

"Moria-"

"Yes, I know of its destruction."

"Then why-"

"I just don't want you to be disappointed is all."

Walking away, I don't mention that I also needed someone to be my sound board. I'm worried and speaking about it helps. During the quest with the company, I was basically bullet proof. With a butt load of protection both God and earthly given, I was more worried about everyone else than myself. But now, the ring is screwing with me. My companions, while not bad company, are not as numerous or well-rounded as the previous ones. If I step wrong, that's it. I've no real world training (though I have some basics) with a weapon and have spent most of life in a classroom learning how to divide fractions. I've never killed anything larger than a mouse and even that made me want to cry. With a heavy hearted exhale, the realization of my inadequacies drive me to asking Gimli to give me a few tips on how to use the mace the next morning.

"My Queen, ye needn't know how to defend yerself!" he chortles loudly, as if the thought of me fighting was more than laughable. It brings unwanted attention to us, much to my embarrassment "I am here! That's all the strength ye'll be needin'."

"Aw come now, Master dwarf. Humor the Dragon Queen." I glare at Boromir and he smirks in return. The man just loves to get right under my skin and make a home for himself. It would seem that annoying me is his way of staving off the boredom, much to my displeasure. Our staring contest lasts until Gandalf clears his throat purposefully, causing Boromir to continue "The way you drag that mace around, like it is a snake, I'm surprised you haven't hurt yourself. Wherever did you get the ungodly device?"

"Azog the defiler."

Heh, no need to tell such stories."

"It's not a story, jerkface."

"Now is that any way for a Queen to speak?" if his patronizing tone wasn't enough, he comes over and pats my head as though I am a child. I swing the mace at him, missing by a wide margin "Come now. Had you really met the defiler of old, you would be standing before us. Unless perhaps you went willing-"

"I would not finish that thought if I were you."

Legolas has a sharp arrow pointed at Boromir and Gimli, not to be outdone, is pointing his ax at the man. While not my intention to cause inner strife, I am glad to have people on my side. Precious seconds tick by before Merry dashes over and takes hold of my arm gently, totally unaware of the tension in the air.

"Mister Aragorn is helping Pippin with his swordsmanship." he chirps happily, with a slight hint of pride for his friend "Perhaps he could aid you as well?"

Thus I begin my training. I allow Merry to lead me over to Aragorn and after explaining the very little of weaponry that I know, he helps me work on my stances. We don't talk more than we have to, understanding that the other prefers silence when available. Soon we move on to actually swinging my current weapon. Gimli aids me in this, since he is the only one who has much experience with this bludgeoning type of device. I enjoy it; working through my stress with physical activity. It must have shown because on our break from the ever going walk, Pippin jokingly asks me to spar with him. Competitive thing that I am, I agree. It's nothing serious, as neither of us are able to wield a weapon properly, but it's fun nonetheless. Calls from my companions spur me on with Boromir even making bets on who will get cut first.

"Do not hurt yourself, Dragon Queen!"

"Please be careful you two." Legolas adds, before climbing atop the rocks we rest beside "We still have a ways to go!"

"She is the Queen of the Dwarves!" Gimli cheers, puffing his chest out and walking off "Rode a dragon; bested an orc lord; she needs no concern of an elf. There is no way she could lose."

"There are not any dragons here. Return home if you are looking for something to ride, Dragon Queen." the annoying man is sure that anyone who could maim him for his words is out of earshot before he hisses them. I ignore it, focusing on my task and soon enough he gets distracted and begins coaching the hyper active hobbit. "Get away from the spurs, Pippin...on your toes...good, very good...I want you to react, not think."

"That's cheating unless you offer Miss Queen some advice as well." Frodo murmurs from his spot beside Sam "Be fair, Boromir."

"Alright, little ring bearer. Move your dainty feet, Dragon Queen." Boromir snorts and I'm two seconds from throwing the mace at his head and being done with him "You can't escape a dragon like that."

"Enough about the dragon!" I growl but keep my eyes on the little hobbit across from me "You aren't helping."

"He isn't?" Pippin asks with an adorable pout "I thought I was a little better."

"I think you are doing quite good, Pippin." Merry cuts in, reassuring his friend "And you too Miss."

"Thanks." Pippin and I chant sweetly

We continue on for a few more minutes before Pippin's stomach growls so loudly that I can't help but laugh. Separating, we go and grab a bite to each. I watch as Gimli manages to corner Gandalf, and go over to hear how things may have changed. Since I know for a fact that Balin didn't die, I wonder if that means someone else did since that's been the theme so far. 'A life for a life.' The only reason why I have no intention of stopping Boromir's…. end. If I save him, who will take his place in this Russian roulette of fate? I can't be his friend because it'll hurt when he's gone, not that he's making it difficult. But that's the future and I'm thinking of Balin and his not death in the past. I know someone had to die, as the small convoy of dwarves was not nearly large enough to survive an intense orc infestation. With this in mind, who then would Gimli offer to visit?

"If anyone were to ask for my opinion, which I note they have not, I would say we are taking the long way round."

"It is my understanding that our current path was chosen with good reason." I walk up with just enough noise not to startle anyone. Glancing between the males, I lift an eyebrow "Is there a reason we should not continue?"

"Of course, my lady! We can pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin, Thorin III dubbed Stonehelm, would give us a royal welcome." A smile tugs my lip at the name, even if it isn't my Thorin. Gimli notices the small change and lowers his voice an octave, trying to persuade me "My cousin, Thorin, would be most accommodating. Would that not be best, majesty?"

I almost laugh at his obvious ploy but puff out a hum instead. My mind easily filters through the known list of Durin's line, placing the name without much trouble. Stonehelm is the son of Dain and eventual father of the supposed reincarnation of Durin, if one were to believe in it. If Stonehelm is alive and well, then we've nothing to worry about. We can travel on through easily, Durin can be reborn, and all that jazz. But if Stonehelm is dead…

"No, Gimli." the wizard answers for me as I'm contemplating my ripple effect "I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice."

"But-"

"What is that?" Sam asks, suddenly breaking into the conversation "Over there…"

"Nothing." Gimli answers paying little attention. We all stare at the little cluster of black dust forcing him to look simply not to be left out "... It is... just a wisp of a cloud."

"That is not a wisp of cloud." I warn, clamoring up the rocks to gain purchase "I suggest you all hide."

"The Dragon queen may have a point." I resist the urge to suck my teeth at the clearly stuck nickname "It's moving fast...against the wind."

"Legolas!" I call to him as loudly as I dare "Get your butt down!"

"Crebain from Dunland!" he responds with a hiss before snatching up Frodo's arm "Come."

"Hide!" Aragon assists the hobbit in snuggling down in a crevice, unfortunately beside me, before rushing out to aid the rest of the group "Boromir, up here."

"Merry… Pippin...Sam..." the man names each hobbit as they pass him, even silently mouthing Gimli's name before hiding himself. Its little instances like that, that I feel bad that he'll be slain by a bunch of orcs "Take cover!"

It's not really hiding in the best sense of the word. It's more, trying to blend in with the shadows casted by the rocks. As the Crebain pass over head I can't help but notice they are an odd type of crow. Molted black feathers clump together on each of the birds making them truly look like literal rats with wings. Trying to focus on anything they may say, I flinch violently when Frodo grips my shirt sleeve in fear. I cant understand what he whispers but I get the gist of it. Taking pity on him, I hesitantly stroke his hair for a moment before returning to my task. I know I can get something from this if I try hard enough. One of the bird's angles its head towards the rocks and Sauron's eye flashes in my mind but I quickly shake it loose. 'Not today either, buddy.' Straining my ears, I'm just able to hear a solitary squawk before the birds begin flying back from their place of origin.

"Thia Malcolmson!" Gandalf calls as we crawl out of our hiding places, all titles forgotten in his urgency "Did you hear anything?"

"They didn't see us" I confirm and he nods thankfully "but they know we are here and they will tell them whom they were sent by."

"And how would you have known that?" Boromir asks, seeming genuinely curious "Can you speak with the animals now?"

"I can do a great many things, including minding my business." I snap but without my usual bite "You should try it sometime."

"What were they?" Sam asks shakily as he helps Frodo to his feet, ignoring the glares being exchanged over his head "Gandalf?"

"Spies of Saruman. The passage South is being watched." the wizard looks to Aragon and the others but pointedly ignores me. I told him not to be upset "We must take the pass of Caradhras!"


~~~~~~~~~~Shishi~~~~~~~~~~


*These are actually exerts from one of my other stories, A hate for all things Durin, which the title kind of explains. It's follows Azog and is super awesome if I do say so myself. It's completed and is only like 5 chapters long, but I felt like slipping some in here.*