Chapter Nine
A Promise
She was running through the dark, blind and terrified. Her bare feet snagged on sharp rocks and the stone on either side of her scraped at her arms, drawing blood, but she dared not stop. Something pursued her, something foul and evil, she could feel it – but she never turned back to look, never once paused to think about what might be behind her.
There was light now – a glowing, pulsating light at the end of her path. She hurtled toward it, willing her legs to pump faster, faster. The ground began to shake, and there was a roar from behind her – then a burst of flame, white-hot and searing—
Kate jerked awake, looking around wildly, frightened that the thing pursuing her had caught her when she heard a distant roaring. There was nothing, though – nothing but her ragged breathing and the cold sweat on her skin. Still uneasy, she sat up carefully but winced when a sharp pain tugged at her right forearm.
She looked down and noticed first that she was in a cot. A white blanket light as feathers covered her lower body, and her alarm increased when she realized that her leathers and furs were gone, replaced by a thin sleeveless shift instead. Her forearm was now throbbing, and she ran her fingers over a tightly wound bandage that stretched from her wrist to her elbow. The skin underneath tingled when she skimmed over the wrappings, and she hissed at the dull ache that emanated from the injury.
The orc, she remembered. The stupid orc cut me.
Though that didn't explain where in the hell she was. She glanced up from her arm to take in her surroundings, seeing that her cot was one of many lined up in a row. There was another row across from her, and she guessed she was in some sort of infirmary – if infirmaries counted as large open-air pavilions smack in the middle of a valley.
There was no roof above her, allowing her to see the night sky and the stars, the light from the crescent moon shining down upon the landscape. Cliffs soared high on either side of the valley, and some of them gave flight to thundering waterfalls, which explained the roaring sound she'd heard earlier, at least. She suddenly started to have a faint inkling of where she might be as she forced herself to her feet, intent on exploring a bit more to confirm her suspicions. No sooner had her feet touched the floor, however, did an all too familiar voice speak from behind her.
"The Valley of Imladris," Mahal said, and she turned to see the Vala looking around the infirmary with mild disdain. "Rivendell, they call it in the Common Tongue." He snorted, gesturing to the winding river below them on the valley floor and the waterfalls that fed it. "Can't imagine why."
"The dwarves," she said, having to clear her throat a few times to get the words out. Her mouth was parched, and she reached for the cup of water that had been left on her bedside table, taking a few sips before continuing. "Where are they?"
"Oh, they're here," he said, waving a hand. "Unhappy about the arrangements, of course, but here."
Well, that didn't surprise her. Thorin had practically spit venom whenever Gandalf had brought up the idea of the Elves of Rivendell, though it seemed the wizard had somehow gotten his way after all. She fingered the edge of her bandage, frowning, and Mahal followed the movement, his eyes glowing softly in the darkness.
"Ah, yes," he said. "Your task is not yet done, Kate Miller. The others now need to hear your story and believe."
"Not until you tell me everything," she said, narrowing her eyes at the Vala. For such a formidable figure, he certainly looked uncomfortable as he turned his head, staring out at the moonlit waters around them. "You're keeping something from me. You called me the Heart. What does that mean?" When he said nothing, she scowled. "We made a deal. If you don't start talking, then all bets are off. I walk away from the quest and your precious dwarves, and they're on their own."
"Break our deal, and you will never be able to go home," he countered.
"I've been here five years and done just fine," she retorted. "Try me."
His eyes flickered when he turned back to her, blazing gold and orange before simmering back to a deep red and blue.
"You drive a hard bargain, Kate Miller," he said, amused. "You would do well as one of us." When she only stared back, unimpressed, he sighed. "I cannot give you the answers you seek."
"Why not?" She crossed her arms, ignoring the pain that shot through her injury as she stared the Vala down.
He fiddled with the ends of his black beard, his fingertips curling faintly with smoke, refusing to meet her eyes. "I told you the first time we met that the others were unhappy with me bringing you here, even though it was foretold that you were the one we must call upon." He frowned. "The others debated, but I was the only one who acted. I brought you here, just as the prophecy said."
"The prophecy?" she repeated skeptically. "What prophecy? You never mentioned any prophecy before."
Mahal snorted. "Prophecies. Bah. They're useless. You can never get a straight answer from them."
"Yet you decided to trust this one and bring me to Middle-earth anyway," she said. Her confusion was growing by the second, as was her aggravation with the Vala and all his vague answers. "Why? What about this prophecy is so important?"
"That is what I cannot say," he said. "Telling you would change things too drastically – it would alter the course of this world forever."
"Bullshit!" she said. "My entire purpose of being here is to change the Line of Durin's fate! You said it yourself!"
Mahal turned back to her. His eyes glowed brighter, the flames within fanning to new heights.
"That is not your only purpose, Kate Miller," he said. "To save Oakenshield is your main task, yes, but your purpose stretches far beyond just that."
Her fingernails dug into the bare skin of her arms. "Tell me the prophecy. If you don't, then I swear on everything in this world that I will not help you."
"And walk away from Oakenshield? Leave him to die on the slopes of the Lonely Mountain?" He smiled sardonically. "Come, Kate; you would not leave an innocent to suffer. I know you better than that."
"You don't know anything about me," she hissed.
"I know your heart." He gestured to the bandage on her arm, where his mark resided just below, prickling her skin. "Abandoning others, just like you were abandoned? It is not in your nature. You care for Oakenshield. You would not leave him."
She looked away from his molten gaze, swallowing the lump in her throat. "What is the Heart?"
"You," he said simply. "Anything more, I am forbidden to say, but you are the Heart, Kate Miller. You will carry this quest on your shoulders and give hope to those who have none for themselves. You must if you want to succeed."
"So, that's it?" She gritted her teeth. "You're just going to make up some shitty inspirational answer to keep me going on this insane task, to keep me from questioning anything? What is it you're afraid of?"
"Afraid?" He scoffed. "I am of the Valar, child. I do not fear."
"You fear something if you won't tell me what this stupid prophecy is about. Will there be repercussions if you tell me what the hell is really going on? Some sort of retribution?"
"Your persistence is grating."
"And your reluctance to answer my questions is beginning to look like cowardice," she said, the ice in her voice meeting the flames in his eyes.
"Mind your tongue, Kate Miller," Mahal said. His voice was a deep rumble of thunder she could feel in her bones, shaking her core. "Your insolence will not go unpunished after this. Next time, I will not be so lenient."
And with that, he disappeared between one blink and the next. She stood dumbly for a few moments, but when she absorbed his sudden absence, she took her goblet and hurled it against the far wall.
"Screw you too!" she screeched.
There was no answer.
She sat down heavily on the edge of her cot, cradling her injured arm. Foolishly, she'd used it to chuck the goblet in her moment of rage, and now she was paying dearly for her mistake as it smarted and throbbed.
"Miss Miller?"
She looked up, wondering if Mahal had come back to torment her with more non-answers, but the figure that emerged from the shadows was Thorin, as dark and brooding as ever.
"What?" she snapped. Her fight with Mahal had zapped what little energy she had to begin with, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to crawl back under her blanket and fall into a dreamless sleep.
Thorin approached her with slow steps as if she were a wild animal who might attack him at any moment. She ignored his hesitant approach, rubbing at her bandaged arm and wincing. He stopped just beside her cot, his deep eyes boring into her with a curious intensity, and she released a tight breath.
"What all did you hear?" she asked.
"Everything."
There was no apology in his tone, no shame at having been eavesdropping, but she found that she didn't really care. At least now he knew what a prick his Maker was.
"If I knew how much of a bastard he was five years ago, I never would've made that deal with him," she said bitterly. She gave him a sideways glance. "No offense."
He smirked faintly. "None taken." After a brief moment, he sat down beside her, crossing his arms and ankles while she hunched over, her elbows resting on her knees. "After the things I overheard, I cannot blame you for your frustration."
"All I wanted was to help," she said. "It was a simple deal; I would go on the quest with you, make sure all of you survived such a suicidal task, and then I would go home. There was no mention of a prophecy, nothing about me being the Heart." She shook her head, cursing at the tears brimming in her eyes. "How did this get to be so complicated?"
Thorin said nothing. She glanced up to him and saw the shadows upon his face, the iron hardness in his eyes, and she suddenly remembered what all he heard.
"Oh, no," she said, the blood draining from her face. "Thorin – what you heard Mahal and I saying about you—"
He held up a hand, and she clamped her lips shut. Her heart thundered like one of the waterfalls around them, and sweat began to pool under her arms and on her hands. Thorin had heard everything. Everything.
"I am not…angry at you, Miss Miller." His brows hung low over his eyes, his mouth twisted into a deep frown. He seemed to be struggling to find words. "I think…I think, deep in my heart, I always knew what outcome awaited me at the end of this quest." He breathed deeply. "Fate…has never been kind to me. I did not expect this time to be any different."
Kate shook her head quickly. "No. No. Don't say that. That – that's why I'm here. To make sure fate is kind to you."
Thorin gave her a small, sad smile. "You are one woman, Miss Miller. Perhaps you were chosen to save me, but if death by dragon fire is my fate, then you can hardly change that."
Kate felt as if she had suddenly been slapped. "You don't think I can do it?"
He frowned. "I did not mean it that way—"
She stood abruptly, cutting him off. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. She was furious all over again – at Mahal, at herself, and now Thorin, for being so blasé about his own death, for accepting his fate, like he had no desire to fight against it.
"I am here," she began, her voice trembling, "because I chose to be here. Prophecies aside, Mahal still gave me a choice – either help save the Line of Durin, or go home and leave things alone. I stayed because I was selfish. I have no problem admitting that. I didn't want to be the poor orphan girl anymore. I wanted to be something more – to make a life for myself that for once I could have a say in. And I'm staying now because after meeting you – all of you – I can't just walk away. You deserve to have a life of your own choosing, too. I don't want that choice to be taken from you because you – you died before you could reach that point where you can choose."
She turned away from him, blinking back angry tears. Her chest heaved with emotion, and she stalked toward one of the tall, open archways of the infirmary, so he wouldn't see. She didn't know why she was getting so worked up, but Thorin's complacency was like a sharp blade twisting in her belly.
Despite the season, the night air was cool against her skin, and it helped her compose herself, clearing her head and chasing away her tears. Anger still simmered inside her, mixed with a deep hurt. Thorin did not believe she could save him. After earning his trust only that morning, it had suddenly been revoked, and that hurt her more than she cared to admit.
"You're upset."
She flinched; she hadn't heard Thorin's approach, too absorbed in her own thoughts. He was looking intently at her face and the lingering tears on her cheeks that she hadn't bothered to wipe away. He unexpectedly held out a handkerchief to her.
"Thanks," she said. She didn't meet his eyes as she took the handkerchief and dried her face, but she could tell he was still watching her.
"Forgive me," he said. "I did not mean to cause you such distress."
She didn't answer him, for she feared she would start yelling again if she opened her mouth. Thorin remained by her side, equally silent, and for a while, all that could be heard were the sounds of the waterfalls and the crickets outside the archway.
"I told the Company about your mark," he said finally. Kate turned to him, shocked, but he was frowning out at the landscape.
"Well?" she said. "What did they say?"
Thorin heaved a great sigh. "I don't know."
Kate lifted a brow. "You don't know."
"I…left, before they could say anything. I wanted them to absorb the information first and reach their own conclusions without me influencing them."
"So, that's why you were wandering around by yourself and eavesdropping?"
He cast her an annoyed glance. "I was coming to see you, anyway."
"Why?" She raised up her bandaged arm. "Surely the healers informed you I wasn't in any danger of dying?"
His jaw tightened, and she wondered if he was grinding his teeth. "You were the only person I could think of who wasn't angry with me, and I with them."
She leaned against the archway, crossing her arms. She tried – and failed – to keep the smug smile from her face. "I told you that you should've been truthful about the mark from the get-go."
If possible, his teeth ground harder. "Yes, thank you for the reminder, Miss Miller."
She rolled her eyes. "Must you insist on calling me that? I have a first name, you know."
"I'm aware."
Mahal, he was aggravating.
"Then please use it from now on."
He sighed out his long nose. "I think my Maker was correct when he said that your persistence is grating."
She snorted. "I live to give him hell."
His mouth twitched. "So, we finally discover your true purpose for being here, after all."
"I must have died from that orc's blade if Thorin Oakenshield is making jokes," she said, raising her brows. He made no reply, but she glimpsed a flicker of amusement in his eyes. She jerked her chin at him. "Get some sleep. You need it."
He raised a brow at her, and she realized that he probably wasn't used to taking orders. She only stared back pointedly.
"Very well," he said after a few moments. "I shall see you on the morrow."
She nodded. He moved away from her, but after a few steps, he stopped.
"Kate," he said, hesitant. She turned, surprised. Hearing her name when they were not in danger of dying was strange, but she quite liked it. Thorin was staring at her, a thousand questions haunting his eyes. "When you were speaking with Mahal, you mentioned the Line of Durin's fate." She winced. "I know what the future might hold for me, but what of my nephews? Fíli? Kíli?"
Thorin Oakenshield was not a desperate soul. But at that moment, he looked like a drowning man begging for a lifeline. It broke her heart.
"I won't let anything happen to them," she said. "Nor will I let anything happen to you. I swear it, Thorin."
She had cast him the lifeline. Now it was his choice whether to accept it or continue fighting the waves that threatened to drag him under.
"Then I will help you," he said quietly. "And I swear that I will protect you and my Company from the fate that awaits us."
A lifeline – a bond that now joined them together, entwining their destinies.
Kate watched Thorin walk out of the infirmary before she turned her face back to the stars. They seemed closer than before, pressing down on her like the new weight of her vow to Thorin. Her eyes picked out one of the brighter stars, and suddenly she was not in Rivendell or Middle-earth, but in a group home in Boston on Christmas Eve.
But instead of a wish, she made a promise.