well, holy shit, it's been 5 years. I found this chapter in the depths of my computer, written somewhere around 2020, and thought, eh fuck it, i'll post it. so here, take it


Six days after the enchanted stream, and hauling sleeping Bombur around, Thorin ordered Bilbo to climb a tree and see how far they were from the edge of the forest.

Bilbo found a good, sturdy tree (of which there were far too many) and began to climb. Everyone else camped at the base of the tree. Dwalin and Bofur set Bombur down rather roughly, but one couldn't blame them for it; they'd been hauling him for some hours by then.

Andrea sat with her legs hugged to her chest. Kili offered to rebraid her hair, disheveled from the stress of the past days. She let him.

Nobody spoke in a voice louder than a murmur. The forest swished and hummed about them, too alive for anyone's liking.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Bilbo came shuffling back down the tree.

"What did you see?" asked Dori. "Are we close to the edge?" asked Gloin. "What was up there?" asked Bofur.

Nothing but a sea of green, reported Bilbo. Trees as far as the eye could see. He reminisced about butterflies and cool breezes, but none of the Dwarves would hear of it. Weary and despairing, they all took up their burdens and continued on.

That night, food ran out. Andrea ate her last ration of crusty bread and dried meats, refused the scraps Fili and Kili tried to give her. The Company sat in silence for some minutes, each thinking, no doubt, of how much they wished to be out of this forest and sitting at a table laden with rich foods.

The next day only hammered home their lack of food, what with no breakfast to eat to stave their gnawing stomachs. There was, however, one relief, in the form of Bombur's awakening.

Halfway through their readying to continue their journey, Bombur sat up. He stared about, very confused. His confusion increased when cries of joy and relief greeted his newly wakened state. Andrea could only muster a wan smile.

When told there was no food left, Bombur let out a despairing sound. "What a cruel truth to wake up to, after the dreams I have had!" he said. When pressed, he said, "I dreamt I was in a forest, lit by torches, and there was merriment and feasting."

The Dwarves were quick to silence any more talk of Bombur's dreams.

With everyone's backs lighter for lack of food and Bombur's weight, they walked on.

The sun rose high but unseen above the canopy. The air in the forest grew hot and stifling without breeze or brush of wind. Then the sun set, casting the world into ever increasing darkness. The whole day had felt like all those previous to it; dreamlike, never-ending, torturous in a vague, detached sort of way. The only difference was Andrea's hunger.

"What's that?" said Ori, pointing out into the dark.

They all looked to where he pointed. A twinkling light bloomed out of the black, followed by another, then another.

"Torches!" exclaimed Bofur.

The Company hurried along the path until they drew abreast to the lights, which had by then grown to be so many that they could see the silhouettes of figures against them.

"We should investigate," said Bombur. "It is just like the dream I had!"

Thorin frowned. "If that is so, then we should not investigate at all; your dream was caused by dark enchantments."

"All the same," Balin said diplomatically, "The occupants of this forest would know more than we of how far we are from the edges."

"The occupants are Elves," Dwalin growled. "I say we leave well enough alone and slip past unseen."

"Unseen and unfed," said Gloin. "We shall starve before much longer in this endless forest."

The arguments circled, each Dwarf switching from one side to the next as first their hunger and then their dislike of Elves overcame them. Even Thorin and Dwalin said a word in favor of going to the lights, before quickly switching back to vehement denial of such a course. All about, the heavy, Mirkwood air sat too-warm on their shoulders, filling their lungs like smoke.

"What say you, Miss Chen?" Thorin turned to Andrea. "You've been unusually silent."

Andrea stared at the lights and their dancing figures, flickering and jumping deep in the forest. She couldn't quite remember why going over to those lights was a bad idea. Her mind felt thick, and her stomach clenched painfully on nothing.

"Perhaps," she said quietly, taking a step forward, "For just a moment."

Bombur took her side, then others. Soon, the consensus was to go all together to the lights (no one wanted to be left behind in the dark). Tentatively, one by one, they all stepped off the path. Nobody remembered Gandalf and Beorn's warnings, nobody at all.

The Company crept through the trees, slipping through the black until they could see quite well the dancers in the firelit clearing. Elves they were, tall and willowy and clad in green. They laughed and ate of roast and fruits, sat upon felled logs and stumps about a great fire.

No one could say who was the first to step into the light, but all knew what happened next: the lights winked out, and the fire was kicked out and dampened.

Andrea stumbled in the dark for far too long before finding the rest of the Company, her world all black and full of shouts and cries. They found one another in time, everyone gripping the hand or shoulder of someone else. Andrea found herself with Bifur and Ori, and together they found the others, and all they sat upon the ground.

"Foolishness," came Thorin's voice from the pitch darkness. "Foolishness, all of it. We have lost the path."

"And our heads," said Balin sadly.

"And our stomachs," said Bombur.

There was nothing to do but remain where they were, for fear of getting lost to one another again. Andrea hugged her cloak close and wished for the cool black of a darkened room rather than this suffocating blanket.

Then Kili spoke. "There! The lights are back! And more than before!"

Far into the forest, the flickering lights sparked up again. There was no talk this time; the Company arose as one and made their way through the forest again. And again, at the first step into the clearing the lights were snuffed out, leaving them to scramble for one another in the dark.

This time, there was more confusion. Andrea only barely managed to find Fili and Dori, and they found Kili and Dwalin soon after. The most difficult to find was Bilbo, who did not answer to any of their frantic calls. In the end, it was Dori who found the Hobbit by tripping over him; the fellow was sleeping like a log.

"I had the most wonderful dream," Bilbo said upon being wakened. "I dreamed we were at a great feast, and-"

"He's gone like Bombur!" groaned Bofur.

They all settled to rest, for there was nothing more to do until the night ended. Andrea sat against a tree with the Durinson brothers on either side of her, their shoulders pressed against hers. She couldn't say how much time passed, but her head had begun to nod when Nori, who stood watch, spoke up:

"The fires are lit again!"

There was more apprehension in the Company this time around, but still they started forward towards the lights. This feast was far more brilliant than the last two, with more dancers and more feasters and more torches. Andrea stared at it all, too muddied of mind to understand more than her weariness and her hunger.

Out stepped Thorin into the circle of light, and the merriment halted as though flipped by a switch.

A nervous fear gripped Andrea's heart, and though her mind was foggy she knew something was terribly wrong. "Thorin-" she said, stepping out after him.

The lights went out.

Andrea fell asleep.

She dreamed of entering her mother's house, walking into the kitchen to find her mother cooking dinner. Her mother smiled, took the wok pan off the stove and scooped out two helpings of home-cooked food. They sat at the small dinner table under the yellow lights. One bulb flickered, almost dead.

"I want to go home," Andrea said to her mother.

Her mother smiled. "You remember your father?" she asked. "I love him so much. After he was gone, I was lost. I'd found my home in him, and without him, I'm only a wanderer." She reached over the table and took Andrea's hand. "When I go to him, I will be going home. Who are you making your home, Andrea?"


A lot has happened since I last worked on this fic. I have moved four times, one of those due to a house fire and the latest because I got married. I have written quite a lot, and consider myself marginally better at the craft.

The chances of me returning to this fic are pretty low. Every now and then I get a little urge to rewrite it (and by god does it need a rewrite. There's the bones of something good here but there are also sections that I cringe away from) but I have moved on from this fandom, and have other wips that interest me more.

Alongside this chapter I found a document with some scattered scraps of drabbles, anticipating later events in my story. I have decided "fuck it" and am going to paste the two longest below the break. They lack context, except that the first takes place during Thorin's madness in Erebor, and the second would have been the very, very end of the story.

You don't have to read them if you don't want to. I found them endearing when I read them, and maybe someone else will enjoy them too, as half-finished as this entire project is.

Still, thank you all of those who read this fic in the past. I'm glad I entertained people, as clumsy as it oftentimes was.


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"I think it is time I told you your story."

"My story?" Thorin glanced up from his brooding. The treasures of Erebor reflected in his eyes. "Ah, yes. You said once that it was not time for me to hear it. Is it time now, woman?" He struck a noble picture, seated upon the throne, cloaked in furs and finery, a crown on his head. Andrea didn't recognize him.

She took a tentative step closer. "Yes. But there are two endings to this story, and I don't know which one is yours, not yet."

Thorin scoffed. "Then tell me the happier one."

"They are both equally sad," she said in a near whisper. Her voice carried through the great hall. "And they end the same way. It's only the manner of ending that is different."

"Then sit here, at my feet, Storyteller, and tell me both."

Her steps echoed despite her best efforts to be silent. She sank down by Thorin's feet, her shoulder leant against an armrest. Her skirts spread out over cold marble, a contrast to the echo of Rivendell pavestones and fallen leaves.

From above her head came a whisper, hushed, rough. "How beautiful you look." She felt fingers brush against her head, trailing through her hair. "A treasure worthy of Erebor." Then the hand fell and the Dwarf king sat back.

"Tell me your tale, Storyteller."

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They built her a wheelchair a few years ago, when her joints grew too weary to traverse all the vaulted halls of Erebor. There was always some young dwarf willing to wheel her wherever she wanted to go. Today, it was a young man named Darin who pushed her chair up to her favorite balcony.

"Thank you, Darin." Andrea tilted her head back, drinking in the light of the setting sun. "Would you be so kind as to fetch Thorin for me? And Gimli?"

"Of course, Missus Andrea." Darin darted off.

Andrea sighed, and let her eyes slide shut. It had been a long day. Every day was long, now. She was tired.

"Andrea?"

She opened her eyes, reached out a hand. Thorin took it, kneeling down beside her chair. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Is it wrong of me to want to see my husband?" Andrea replied, smiling. She reached out with her other hand, ran it through Thorin's silvered hair. "But you're right, I wanted to talk to you. And to Gimli, is he here?"

"Right here, ma'am." Gimli stepped forward.

"You'll be going with the company to the Council at Rivendell, yes?"

Gimli nodded.

"Would you take a few messages for me?"

"Of course."

Andrea smiled. Her bones ached with weariness. "Tell the little ones to stick together. Tell the man of Gondor…" she paused to gather her thoughts. To watch the sunlight shine on Thorin's face. "Tell him that he is forgiven. And tell the ranger that Miss Andrea Chen says hello."

"I'll be sure to pass on your messages."

She turned her face to Gimli. "You're a fine dwarf, Gimli. There is no one better for this quest than you."

"Thank you, Missus Andrea."

Andrea smiled, sighed. "You'd better go get ready, Gimli. It'll be a long journey."

With a respectful bow, Gimli left, leaving only Thorin as her company on the balcony.

"That was mysterious," Thorin said, squeezing her hand gently.

"When have I ever not been?" Andrea managed a laugh, but it was weak. "There are dark days coming, Thorin. You've heard the reports. Black things are crawling out of the earth."

"Don't concern yourself with such evils," Thorin said. "You need your rest."

"I'll rest soon, my love." Andrea beckoned him closer with a twitch of her hand, pressed a kiss to the furrow on his brow. When she pulled away, there was pain in Thorin's eyes. He knew, just as she knew.

"Listen to me, Thorin." Andrea squeezed his hand with as must strength as she could muster. "The darkest days lie before you. But hold fast. You will prevail. The evil will be cast away and all will be well again. Remember this, remember that it will pass. And when he returns, tell Gimli I am proud of him."

"I love you." Thorin whispered.

"I love you." Andrea sighed, let her eyes slide shut. She turned her face to the sun, and watched the gentle glow from behind her eyelids.

She felt the bristle of a beard and the softness of lips against her hair and brow. She smiled, and held Thorin's hand, and fell asleep.