There was a moment during my travels with the dwarves where, after a particularly unbelievable encounter with actual, real live giants made of stone, we sought shelter in the hollow of a mountain cave and waited out the storm. I learned a great deal about the willpower of hobbits that night, for even though traveling the mountain pass had nearly killed us less than a day prior, and said pass was now arguably missing large chunks of the trail (having been destroyed by, or was in fact a part of, these legendary stone giants), Bilbo had been all packed up and ready to travel right back the way we came as soon as he thought he could slip away. Bofur and I tried to convince him to stay - we could work so well together when we had a mind to - only to have the entire company literally drop off the face of the world, leaving me behind feeling a peculiar combination of hopelessness in such a situation, and disbelief that the situation happened at all.

That was how I felt now; the lack of any way forward, the loss of control, and a whole new level of vulnerability.

In situations so desperate, I've heard it said that we can do one of two things: we can face the problem head-on in a fight, or we can flee from the problem. In the Misty Mountains, I was filled with rage and stomped along in furious, blind frustration towards whatever end. Now, however, I was feeling the compulsion to retreat from the world I was in - and so I fled - first, inward, as for a long while I simply wept.

Then, when I drew back out of myself, I made ready for the flight from Erebor itself.

In preparation for leaving, I scanned the bedroom, mentally trying to do a quick inventory of what possessions I owned in order to decide which of those I actually wanted to keep. My wardrobe, which had grown considerably, was regretfully deemed of little importance as I remembered that many items would cease to fit me properly in a few months' time. I grabbed a rucksack and shoved in all the elvenwear I'd been gifted, along with most of my undergarments and two warm underdresses, and by that point the bag was nearing capacity. I frowned and then rummaged through the remainder of my clothing, donning as many layers of the more practical items as I could comfortably fit. To be left behind; the dwarven-inspired formalwear, along with a few other more decorative dresses from Méra, a hodge-podge of some of the mismatched dwarven child-sized clothing I had made do with when we'd first arrived, some very tatty old workwear, and my wedding outfit, which I pointedly tried to not look at.

I then stepped up to the dresser and inspected the small pile of books I'd acquired. It was not a big collection by any means, but still, I could not fit them all. I resolutely set aside my ancient copy of Salt Procurement in the Rhûn Region, Volume III, for it would not be allotted any of the precious remaining space in my pack. I did, however, manage to cram in both the books Balin had gifted me at my wedding. The children's book just felt natural to keep as an expectant mother, and since there was no telling what life a single mother might lead, it at least was a small treasure I could impart on my son or daughter as they grew, the light-hearted stories could become a sanctuary, for both of us, even if times were hard otherwise. The transcriptions and translations of ancient contracts, on the other hand, would be for me, to keep my mind busy in the long months before the birth. Surely there would be something of interest to learn from the pages in common, and there was a small smugness I felt at the thought of potentially learning some of the secret script of the dwarves, just to spite them.

I then drew open the top drawer of the dresser to inspect the remainder of my very few sentimental valuables. I pulled out a leather pouch and emptied its contents on the dresser top. I surveyed the jewelry before me and donned my mother's opal necklace, tucking it safely under the neckline of my clothing. I then returned my father's brooch and my childhood bracelet to the satchel and packed it into my bag. It comforted me knowing I had a few priceless heirlooms to pass on, and that I would now have someone to gift them to. Remaining on the dresser was the silver necklace from the troll hoard and a pair of fang earrings Bifur had given me at the wedding. I studied both for a time, but then decided to leave them - too many memories attached to both items, memories I didn't care to have constantly prompted by their presence.

I suddenly remembered another matter that needed to be addressed, and so I retrieved the coin purse Bofur had provided me so long ago when I was first arranging to purchase a custom dress from Méra. A part of me still needed to convince him that our whole relationship had not been a ploy to gain riches and comfort, and so I decided to leave the purse behind as well and tossed it onto the bed where I slept. Even though possession of such gold would certainly make it easier to set myself up, and quite comfortably at that, I would do this without Bofur's support, regardless of how difficult. I did, however, lament not seeking out Gloin sooner and withdrawing my fairly earned wages from working within Erebor during its initial restoration. Of course, I couldn't very well march to his office now and ask for my account to be emptied, not when he had been present for the trial and would therefore immediately guess my intentions. There was little chance he would even be willing to do such a thing anyway; with my citizenship in limbo, as it were, my account was likely 'temporarily suspended' or some such nonsense until my verdict was formally decided. That suited a small part of me just fine though. The dwarves could keep their gold, and I would learn to get by on my own.

I stood in the center of the room, once again looking over everything rather critically to make sure nothing was forgotten. I was just turning to leave when my eye landed upon the small wooden dog figurine Bofur had crafted for me, poised in the thrill of the hunt where it perched on a stone shelf set into the wall behind my nightstand. I didn't quite know how I felt about it - it had been given to me as a peace offering, an apology after Bofur's bout with goldlust, but now I didn't think there was anything he could gift me that would start the healing process. I feared it would be a constant reminder of the hurt Bofur had caused, on more than one occasion it would seem, and yet… I ran my hand over where my child - our child - now lie within me, and sighed, and then shoved the carving deep into my pack. It wasn't by my choice, and certainly not the child's, to be without a father. It would be good to have something to remember him by, something from his own hand.

I left the bedroom, intending to head straight to the kitchen to pack some provisions, however I felt drawn to the balcony and so took a moment to step outside. A cold night wind immediately whipped my hair about my face and set my teeth on edge. I stepped up to the rail, gripping it with cold hands, as I stared at the distant lights of Dale. While gazing out at the human settlement, I was frustrated to feel nothing; no sense of peace, no security, no hope. I wasn't sure where I was meant to be anymore if it wasn't by Bofur's side. He was my plan, my home, my One. I wasn't sure there was anything else, I wasn't sure I wanted anything else. I stood there, frozen, until the cold leached into my bones despite my many layers, and my shoulder started to ache. It still hurt, from time to time, underneath the scars from when Azog tore it apart, but yet the pain was nothing compared to the wrenching in my heart. An agonized cry tore from my throat as my utter defeat finally pried an escape from my body, but the wind carried my lament away from the cliffside, unheard by anyone. Finally I could take no more, so I backed away from the edge of the precipice and returned to the task at hand.

I entered the kitchen, taking a moment before the embers of the fire there to shake the chill that had set in, though after overcoming the physical tremors I found that most of the cold that had settled in my core was emanating from within – the same cold that threatened to overcome me many times since learning of my pregnancy, and one which I found could only be vanquished with action, and so again I set to work, finding it easier and easier to get back on track every time I risked falling back into grief. I left the fireside and filled a new canvas satchel with as much non-perishable food as I could carry. I wasn't sure if any one particular plan of mine would work out, so I wanted to be prepared for anything, and given my resolution to avoid any contact with dwarves at all for the considerable future, it would far better for anyone snooping around (Bofur especially) to think that I'd packed for a long journey, just to keep them from tracking me down so easily.

I piled all my items at the front door, and then retrieved my sword and my elven cloak. Not anticipating any conflicts in the mountain, and wanting to be as secretive as possible in case I was spotted, I wrapped my sword in the cloak and strapped it to my pack, and then there was nothing left to do but pull on my boots and heft my bags. I turned to face the rooms, a melancholy settling over me in the sudden absence of anything left to do but leave.

My eyes cast over all the various details Bofur had put into our home, memories of all our time together, and then simply shook my head sadly.

I didn't expect I should return.

In fact I meant not to.

If Bofur chose to abandon me after going through so much together, he could live with the consequences.

And as for me, who knew? If a wizard once said I had a touch of fate about me, maybe that was what this was - fate.

Comforted by that thought, I turned and left the rooms without a backwards glance.

My flight from the mountain was calm and collected. Perhaps it was that I had already fled once from a life I no longer felt safe in, and so I was reassured that I could survive now, just as I did then. Perhaps it was that a small part of me always longed to return to my people, and so fanciful details of my departure had been slowly etching into my brain ever since I set aside Eleanor and returned to the mountain. Nevertheless, while I felt I should have been overwhelmingly distraught, instead there was a sharp clarity to it all.

My first stop was a risky one, but one that I felt needed to be done. I had managed thus far to avoid being seen by following a few less traveled routes that I discovered in my time cleaning rooms throughout the mountain, and from occasions that Méra and I had secreted away for training using old servants' passages and stairwells, but now my destination was so far from nondescript that I knew I shouldn't be heading there at all. So it was with great trepidation that I entered the hallway once occupied by the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, sneaking in from a small alcove at the end opposite that which I usually approached. Even at this unfamiliar angle, my breath caught at the sight of it. My first home here under the mountain. My first home in a long time, really, as Laketown burned before I ever really settled into my childhood dwelling...

I walked the length slowly, my eyes trailing from doorway to doorway as I thought back to arguably less stressful, happier times, and as I did I recited the names of their original occupants in my head: Óin, Gloin, Dori, Nori, Ori, Kili and Fili, Dwalin, Balin, Bifur, Bombur…Bofur…

A thought then occurred to me, one that almost scared me right back the way I came.

'What if Bofur was staying in his old rooms right now?'

My mind scrambled, burning like wildfire through a dozen different scenarios I had rehearsed in the days leading up to the trial. Perhaps I could confront him right now. Perhaps I could try one final time to persuade him… But did he even deserve it? Did he deserve the possibility of a second chance?

I hadn't ever been able to bring myself to answer that question, which was part of the reason why so many of my plans had been left so unfinished in the end.

I took a few small steps towards his door and then hovered there a moment, allowing my thoughts to drift between happy memories of us, moments that brought a small smile to my lips. Yet before I could reach out, to try the handle or knock, a cold chill ran down my spine. My thoughts began to turn darker, and, in my mind's eye, I suddenly found myself facing the king and his tribunal, being condemned for a crime they could in no way prove I was guilty of, but which stemmed from their uncompromising bias towards the one thing I could not change - the crime of being human. I could still see Bofur standing there, doing nothing, refusing to defend me even as they accused me of the most deplorable acts of wanton promiscuity, of being so grossly hungry with greed and of possessing such desperation to advance my pathetic and poor human existence by any means necessary. They treated me as a villain, a whore, an oathbreaker... and still, he did nothing.

He simply looked on as they broke me.

Why?

I still couldn't make sense of it. If he had truly loved me, why didn't he do anything? What of all the oaths and promises he had made me? Did he truly believe he was trying to save me from myself? He'd once smugly announced to me that dwarves cherish their women, that they would never strike them like some human men might, and yet Bofur had hurt me more than any man ever had.

I could never forget that.

And so I had my answer.

I shook my head and set my shoulders, then with newfound resolve I left his door to go stand before my own, or what once was my own, I had never thought to ask Bofur if they were still in our possession after moving to our shared quarters. I reached out to try the latch and found no resistance, and so I pushed in, only a little, but then paused. If I reopened this door, with all the old memories that came with it, I feared I might be drawn in, ensnared by the lure of sweet nostalgia that was already threatening to snuff out the newly fanned flames of determination I had felt only a moment ago. I did allow myself a moment of weakness though, and for a few breaths I simply let my mind linger, thinking of times when we were all together, when it felt so much like I had finally found a real family, times when we were happy… but only for a moment, and then I pulled the door closed for the very last time.

I was about to re-enter the alcove and take a spiral staircase down to levels closer to the main gates, when a crashing sound came from down the hallway. I turned to see dim light in Balin's audience chamber spilling out through the half-closed door. At such an hour, I doubted Balin would be awake, and with my mind still fixating on treachery and betrayals I hurried quietly as I could down the hall to ensure nothing was amiss, only to be stopped dead in my tracks across the junction from the doorway by a familiar voice seething from within.

"…know as well as I do that the lass was being thrown to the wolves in there. If Thorin were here-"

It was Dwalin.

My heart raced, and I stilled my movement as best I could knowing full well a dwarf's sense of hearing was far better than a human's even on a poor day, and underground, well, it was likely only the fervour with which Dwalin spoke that saved me from being detected already.

"But he's no' here, is he?!" Balin snapped with an uncharacteristic lack of composure - and was that the tell-tale slur of intoxication I heard? I couldn't make out the second part of his response as he dropped to conspicuously hushed tones, and so I inched a bit closer to lean against the doorframe, being careful to keep my breathing as quiet and even as possible.

Dwalin was clearly not placated by Balin's response, and his voice remained tempestuous in anger.

"No! Balin, I have seen her heart, as have you, and it is as loyal as any dwarf's. I cannot believe she would commit such an act of betrayal."

This time I could discern Balin as he spoke up once more. "Nor could I, but the impossibility of what she proposes!" Balin sounded strained, as if he was desperately trying and failing to wrap his head around my earlier defense. His words quieted then, and I only just caught them. "Ah, brother, I wish I could have as much faith in her word as you…"

"Aye, you say that, but you couldn't hardly look at her!" Dwalin hissed. "You were too ashamed, and you should be - you owe the lass a life debt for Durin's sake, and this is how you repay her?! By threat of banishment?" At that point Balin tried to reply, but Dwalin cut him off and continued. "Maybe I was the only one, since the rest of you lot were blinded by your own self-righteous anger, but I was looking at her. I saw no deceit in her bearing, though it was clear as day the very heart and soul of her was being dashed upon the stones of this accursed mountain."

Balin tutted. "She has a choice though. She could remain here-"

"An impossible choice!" Dwalin interceded angrily. "No mother would knowingly do harm to her child, you know that as well as I. She will not go down that path, no matter what the consequence."

There was silence for a moment, and I became aware that my cheeks were wet with tears I hadn't known I'd even begun to shed.

"You need to find something." Dwalin's voice was lower and calmer now, but the edge was still there. "Search the archives, send for records from the Blue Mountains and the Iron Hills, write to the Ironfists and Stiffbeards if you have to, there must be something, anything out there that could vindicate her."

"Don't you think that with all our records, if something such as this has ever happened before, the Loremasters would have heard of it?" Balin snapped, sounding a bit irate now. Dwalin, however, did not seem discouraged.

"Come on, brother, think! You're supposed to be the smart one of the pair of us! The tomes those dusty old bureaucrats collect have no room for tales of common folk - the sort of dwarves that might dare to dabble in unconventional relationships. I can all but guarantee that she's not the first human maid to bring comfort to the mind and body of a homesick dwarf far from his clan - find those dwarves. Look for journals, war records, travel diaries, anything but the personal histories of highborn houses, for I doubt the Line of Durin will ever think to mention Kili near on pledged himself to an elven maid. The royal lines would never risk such dishonour."

There was a long pause before Balin spoke again. "Aye, you could be onto something there." he agreed reluctantly. Another silence. Then Balin continued, sounding somewhat sceptical, as if he were just coming to the conclusions himself. "It could rightly be argued that the lack of any common knowledge regarding progeny between dwarves and humans could mean one of three things; the most accepted being that we simply cannot interbreed. The second is that no such pairing has ever existed until now, which, as you say, is unlikely. The final outcome is simply that no children from such a union have survived full term… this third scenario is even more troubling, though, when we consider the longevity of the mothers themselves…"

"Go on…" Dwalin growled.

"To put it simply, human women may not survive the experience." Balin concluded, so somber and hushed that I needed to lean in slightly further to hear. There was a short pause, where the sound of my breathing seemed all too loud and so I held it, worrying that I had been heard.

My heart started beating again when I heard Dwalin.

"You'd best get to work then."

I wished Balin had time for a response. To know whether I had another ally against such insurmountable bias displayed by the dwarves would have been a salve on the wound they had ripped open in my heart, but as it happened I was forced to make a hasty retreat down the into the shadowed alcove of the next doorway over when Dwalin suddenly left his brothers' rooms without further conversation. He walked to his rooms, and true to his character he never looked back.

All the better, for if he had I was sure he would have seen me.

The rest of my trip through the mountain was unimpeded and when I arrived at my office several of my half-made plans began to weave together. My additional travel gear was there already, having been cleaned and then stored there after our caravan returned from Windrest, but that was not the only reason for my stop. I opened one of my desk drawers and drew out several draft letters and some blank paper. I crumpled a few, fleshed out a few more in a deliberately hasty fashion, penned a few others, and then left them scattered about. Some were real letters I had penned to Bard and Kura with promises to visit. Some were created to deceive, written to Tauriel and Bilbo yet left half-finished, and others were completely farcical and addressed to such recipients as Lord Elrond, Beorn (how I would have directed post there was anyone's guess), and even the young ranger who had arranged my escape from Bree (who's name I never actually got, so this one was also unaddressed). I left my ink, quill and parchment in a state of disarray, looked about at my work once more, and then set about packing a few remaining essentials.

I left my office fully outfitted for travel, with my sword and cloak fastened about me. I'd even went so far as to pack several old trade documents and maps which, if glanced at, would lend credence to my purpose, and so I proceeded with false confidence to the main entrance, where I was thankfully allowed to pass through unimpeded on 'diplomatic business' to the woodland realm.

I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as I stepped out of the oppressive shadow and weight of the mountain. I was free. And yet… I bit my lip hard as fury and sadness swelled up within me. The bonds of fellowship I had made during the unexpected quest to reclaim Erebor, they now lie broken behind me. It had all meant nothing as they had forsaken me, shamed me, and driven me away. I risked a glance over my shoulder, up the wall to the battlements where despite the darkness I could picture the grim faces of the Company staring down at me in full armoured regalia, their faces stoic, steadfast, resolved, in the face of almost certain death before the Battle of the Five Armies. I reluctantly leaned into the bittersweet sadness of the memory…

"You have to go." Bofur said breathlessly into my ear as he quickly pushed me along the narrow pathway past the others, not allowing me to stop until we reached the ledge where Bilbo had recently climbed down. "Follow Bilbo; find a safe place in Dale."

I swung around and looked at Bofur in shock. "What? No. I'm not leaving." I rebuked.

"Please, please, listen to me." Bofur urged, his face contorted with worry as he shoved the rope into my hands. "You must leave. I can't protect you here."

I studied him for a moment, staring into his sad brown eyes.

"Come with me." I begged, taking his hand, but he didn't respond. "Amrâlimê." I whispered pleadingly.

His expression became even bleaker as he shook his head and I realized with sudden clarity that he was shaking.

"I can't." he said quietly with a grimace. "Please. Do this. For me."

I finally nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat as I began to carefully lower myself over the edge of the rock wall. I stopped when I had found a foothold and looked back up to Bofur, who kneeled down and placed a trembling hand on my cheek.

"I will find you again. When it's all over. I promise." he said.

If only that were true now, I thought with a sigh, and even if that were true, he would have a lot of searching to do. After all, I could go anywhere I wanted now, anywhere…

Just not home.

I crossed the bridge departing the gate and turned west, towards Ravenhill and the borders of Mirkwood, following the track of the River Running until I was well beyond the sight of the guards at the gate.

From there I descended down the riverbank itself. The steep water-worn and weathered stone was slick in places, but it would serve me well in hiding my tracks, and so I painstakingly followed it down its length until I neared the city of Dale. It was there that I had a dilemma, and so I ducked into the relative protection of the causeway to consider my options. Stretched ahead of me, the river passed right up against the northern wall of the city, and though the banks were steep and provided some cover I would be very close to the guards above. To leave the river, though, would mean traveling on the ring road and surely being spotted, either by the sentries or some other early morning traveller. Neither choice was ideal, but I knew I at least had a chance of keeping hidden by staying off the beaten track.

I pressed ahead, and thankfully the light of the half-full moon provided me two blessings. First, it illuminated the wall such that I could see the men upon it. To my surprise, there were only three visible, and then it dawned on me: of course they wouldn't be expecting any trouble facing Erebor. Second, and more importantly, it fell upon the bank above me and shrouded me in shadows, making my progress difficult to spot. Moreover, I was eternally grateful for the 'drabness' of my cloak from Rivendell, for the hue of it blended into the rock and earth about me. With everything working in my favour, I circled the city unnoticed and continued southward until only the glow of the city remained. Then I peered over the bank, and once certain there was no one to spot me I hauled myself up onto the road and began the long walk back the way I came.

I approached the city's south gate in the early hours of the morning, well before the sun had crested the southeastern spur of the mountain, where I gave the two guards there a fake name and alibi. I told them I came from Keldun, traveling to seek what work I could for the summer season. It was not an uncommon occurrence for unmarried daughters and spinsters during the fairer weather, from what I understood, and I could even recall in my childhood an influx of migrant workers in Laketown before it's fall. My claims were supported when I let slip a few colloquialisms and references to details about the village that I had become familiar with during my stay earlier in the spring. There seemed to be some worry at my traveling alone, especially appearing unarmed with my sword concealed beneath my cloak, but the early spring raid on the village provided me with an excuse to this as well.

"My brothers… the attack in the spring…" was all I had to start with, before falling silent and letting my eyes fall. They seemed to take the bait, nodded soberly, and spoke some of the same hollow words of comfort they'd had to utter dozens of times this year.

"I thought the dwarves made the road safe?" I ventured in feigned naivety, and they assured me that I would be safe within the city at the very least, with their tones only a little bit patronizing. I thanked them profusely, and they let me pass, and I found myself despising men - no matter the race - just a little bit more for being so ready to treat me as nothing more than a helpless back-country maid.

Despite the sky still being in the very early stages of dawn, the main streets of the city were a bustle of activity as folks busied themselves with preparing for the day, and I got the impression that many (the city bakers, for example) had been up well before my arrival as they were already doing a fair trade to people going to and returning from work. I ducked off of the main road as soon as I was inside to reduce the chances of being spotted, and followed the inside of the wall where the alleyways were narrower and the houses much smaller, eventually giving way from the repaired stone structures prioritized along the main thoroughfares to wooden shacks, and then in many cases only canvas stretched between crumbling ruins.

Save for going to and from the dwarven safe house, I hadn't spent much time in the parts of the city that were run down like this, and according to Hall I had been led to believe there were relatively few people living here back in the cold winter. It was clear to me now, though, that the story I had provided at the gate had been a very common one now that the weather was milder. It was also clear that while Bard was letting anyone and everyone into Dale, available shelter within the city was dwindling, and it was likely growing more and more difficult to earn an honest living as jobs were snapped up. I allowed my cloak to fall open as I threaded my way through the narrow corridors, just in case I had need to defend myself, yet that proved to attract more trouble rather than discourage it.

A man who had been leaning up against a crumbled corner of a structure straightened up as best he could and blocked my way. I stopped with a huff, knowing full well I did not have the patience to deal with this effectively right now, so I simply hefted my pack a little higher and glared at the man.

"What?" I spat vehemently. When he didn't respond right away I grabbed the strap of my bag with my left hand, keeping my sword hand free, and intended to sidestep the man, but he mirrored my movement.

"Wot's in the bag?" He asked menacingly, but I had faced far worse than this little man.

"Don't." I threatened, my hand gripping my sword hilt and bringing his eyes down to it.

"That's a nice sword…" he yammered, hitching up his belt. "I fought in the battle you know, let an old vet show you how to use that." He moved towards me and I took a step back, subtly shifting my weight into a fighting pose while accommodating the weight of the pack. My free hand left the backpack to the hem of my cloak.

"Don't." I urged again, this time just slightly pleading. With so much on my plate I desperately wanted to avoid adding this to the chaos.

He didn't heed my warning, opening his mouth to speak once more while continuing to advance. I didn't give him a chance, and before the first word left his mouth I flicked my cloak back, drew the blade clear of its scabbard and smacked the man with the flat of the blade so hard on the side of the head that he was toppled over back into the ruins, nursing a shallow cut where the blade's point scraped across his cheek. I lowered the sword towards him and he devolved into desperate begging as he scrambled back over the rubble.

I spat a khuzdul curse under my breath, a small thing I had heard countless times throughout travelling with the Company and in my time spent in Erebor that had apparently finally wormed its way into my vocabulary, and while I thought nothing of it, the man stilled with fear for a moment before resuming his pleading much more earnestly. I hadn't the time to think anything of it, so I simply sighed a heavy sigh and shook my head before storming off. I didn't sheath my blade for a good long while after that, and no one bothered me on my way to my destination; my old safe house.

I reached the safe house as the sun climbed over the rooftops and hastily slid my key into the lock of the heavy wooden door. I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, then waited while my eyes adjusted to the dim light beaming in through the narrow windows. As I surveyed the room, I noticed that Hall's reference once to the room falling into disrepair had been exaggerated. On the contrary, despite a fine layer of dust that had settled over things, the room seemed untouched since my departure. That suited my needs just fine.

I wasn't sure if anyone would come looking for me here, but to my knowledge only a handful of Dain's spys knew of the location, and I was sure that neither he nor they would be at all interested in finding me. That only left Hall and his family, who didn't even know I was missing and might just assume someone new had moved in. It didn't matter, I didn't intend to stay, and I was careful not to disturb anything as I moved to the window and gently worked free a thin stone beneath the windowsill. There, tucked right where I had left it, was the purse of money I had earned as Eleanor, including the gold coin Bofur had tipped me - or rather Eleanor. It pained me to take it, as no matter if it was dragon gold or dwarven gold, it was still his gold, and I didn't want to go forward feeling as if I were indebted to him. Yet, it was freely given, fair pay for services rendered, he would also likely never come looking for it, and so he would have no knowledge that I might use it to fund my living expenses for the following few months. I didn't know what I'd do once my money ran out - but that was a worry for another day - in the meantime I would just have to be very careful with my spending habits.

With a nod of assurance to myself, I returned the stone to its original spot and left the house, leaving the door slightly ajar. With any luck some I'll-fortuned yet deserving denizen of Dale would find it and occupy it, erasing all evidence of my being there.

Next, I began to climb the many stairways that Darus, Baz and I had once taken to reach the upper levels of the city. I took it slow this time around, not wanting to arouse suspicions, and after being awake and travelling most of the night I didn't have the energy to move quickly in any case. I even dared take the time and risk to return to the Main Street after the second stairway to purchase a fresh loaf of bread for breakfast after I began to feel faint. I relaxed in an alcove off the road while I ate, all the while idly watching the people moving to and fro while deliberately ignoring the mountain looming in the distance.

Feeling better, I hauled myself up the remaining levels and hurried towards the house of the city's ruler. If Bard's schedule was anything like it had been back when I was undercover, he liked to get an early start to his days - a throwback to his time as a working bargeman no doubt, when getting up before sunrise often meant being loaded and out on the Long Lake to make the most of the winds that picked up as the day stretched on - and I was counting on him already being across the way at the Great Hall by this time. I didn't have the luxury of waiting to find out though, as guards and important citizens were more numerous here and anyone lingering around watching the house of their lord would no doubt stick out like a sore thumb, so I approached the back door with purpose.

My heart caught in my throat when I heard the front door open, but my luck seemed to be with me as I saw only Bain and Tilda emerge, followed by Sigrid's voice.

"Bain, make sure Da' comes home for lunch today!"

"I will!" Her brother called before hurrying across the square. Tilda then bid her sister farewell and also skipped off down into the city, leaving only my target within. I made it to the back door unseen and knocked.

Sigrid opened the door.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, clearly surprised by my unexpected presence.

"Good morning." I greeted, and then pursed my lips. I had spent so much time and energy getting to this point that I hadn't had a chance to rehearse what I was actually going to say. I must have come across as rather awkward and disheveled, leaving poor Sigrid to try to puzzle out what to do with me.

"Um… would you like to come inside?" she ventured, to which I nodded and bustled past her with all my gear. Once inside, I was still at a loss, so she relieved me of my packs and map cases, and then asked if she could take my cloak. I relinquished it, and she folded it over one arm before eyeing up the sword at my belt. I could see her confusion even more clear as she sucked at her cheek for a moment before beckoning for it.

"I'll take that too. No weapons in the house - I don't make exceptions for Bain or Da' either, so I'll leave yours with your things." I unbelted my scabbard and passed it to her, and now rather overburdened she smiled. "Right then. Tea?"

"Yes please." I smiled back sheepishly and waited while she deposited my effects, then she beckoned me along to the kitchen and sat me down at a small table there. As she prepared our drinks, I took a moment to look about the place, having never been inside their new home before. The kitchen was, despite the architecture's best attempts to remain ornate and decidedly upper class, succumbing to the charm of being occupied by more worldly folk - herbs and dried foods hung from the ceiling, trinkets and cooking implements adorned all available counter space, and it was all cramped around the well used table I was sat at. Through an archway I could see a glimpse of their actual dining room, much more lavish and decorated in similar style to where Hall's family lived, and imagined I could see, even from here, the layer of dust from disuse of the room.

Sigrid noticed me looking down that way and grinned wryly. "You can take a fisherman from the lake, but you can't take the lake from the fisherman."

"In Bree we said; you can take a hobbit from the Shire, but you can't take the Shire out of a hobbit." I said, accepting the cup offered to me and taking a slow sip. Sigrid sat down across from me and set her drink on the table, beginning to add cream and sugar to her own, though I could see her sidelong glances and the concerned curiosity she was trying to mask beneath what stoicism she might have inherited from her father.

I took a breath to compose myself, and then made the request I had come here to make.

"Would you be able to help me find a place to stay? I need somewhere I won't be bothered. I would also prefer if no one knew about any of this, or where to find me - except us - if that's possible." I cut my ramblings short, and she thought on it for a moment, but then I quickly added "Nothing fancy, I know space is at a premium here, just a room with a bed and a fireplace would do… for the days when I get tired of dwarves and the mountain?"

"You've packed for longer than just a visit here to arrange this. Does this mean you're tired of dwarves right now?" she ventured, and I inwardly kicked myself. Of course she would be clever enough to make that assumption. I took a deep breath, and then sighed heavily.

"I think I'll be tired of dwarves for a good long while." I admitted sombrely, gripping my mug so that my hands would not shake and give away the sheer rawness of my emotional state.

When she could tell she could get no more out of me she sniffed and took a drink of her tea, then nodded. "Let's get you sorted into lodgings then." I could tell she was hurt by me not confiding in her, and I promised myself I would tell her everything eventually to make myself worthy of her friendship, but for now it was all too fresh.

I slid my gold coin across the table, wanting to do this right and avoid charity if I could. "I can pay - will this cover a small apartment for a few months?"

Sigrid took the coin and inspected it, then tucked it away into a pouch beneath the table.

"I'll need some time to make arrangements. If you want to keep your being here a secret…" she paused and looked at me imploringly, but I simply nodded a small nod. "You can't wait here then. Bain and Da' are a stone's throw away and should be back for lunch, if not earlier, and who knows when Tilda will pop in. Is there somewhere I can meet you?"

I was reluctant to return to my old house, but suspected that it would be the most private spot for me to hide out until Sigrid returned. I gave her directions, and then hastily finished my tea. We rose and stood across the table from each other for a moment, before I moved around the table and hugged her, clearly catching her off guard after being so emotionally closed off for the rest of our meeting as it took her a moment to hug back.

"I'm sorry, I will tell you everything, I just… need some time to myself right now."

After our rendezvous, Sigrid led the way north around the bottom rung of the city, staying close to the western wall and thankfully going in the opposite direction from my earlier encounter with one of the city's less savoury denizens. The buildings here were functional, far from fancy, but just as far from crumbling ruins, and still likely better than most Laketowners were used to (myself included, not counting my stint in Erebor).

"I've secured you a room in a row of apartments we cleared for essential shift workers - folks who work at night cleaning streets, hauling rubbish and the like, and then sleep in the day, while foresters and weavers and such are off at work, then they switch. The night shift will be asleep this time of day, so no nosey neighbours to worry about."

We turned and crossed through an alley between a pair of long narrow buildings, which I assumed to be the houses Sigrid spoke of, and emerged to a whole street lined with them. Those in the far side backed onto the very wall itself, which reminded me a bit of Erebor, and that was when I realized it was parts of Erebor. The wall was fortified with large slabs of excavated stone, and the buildings themselves made entirely of the green marble in places, replacing whatever had been here before. Sigrid frowned at the irony of what she saw me witnessing.

"I know. Not the best place to forget your troubles…"

I smirked and shook my head. "It's fine." I assured her. "It will help if I ever need a reminder of what I left behind." I explained, but the thought continued in my head: Nothing but cold, hard stone.

"The houses tend not to disturbed by vagabonds for fear of waking some burly man with an axe, so there's that at least." Sigrid eventually pointed out after studying me for a moment, clearly trying to focus on the good - which to her credit was all very well thought out. "Tilda has also mentioned a few of the orphans have taken to providing for the lodgers - delivering food and water and such, since most don't have time to visit the markets themselves. I'll have her make arrangements to get you the same service, without telling her it's for you, of course. So long as you pay for the groceries and tip well you shouldn't have a problem with privacy."

We stopped outside a solid wood doorway on the row running parallel to the wall, one of dozens like it, and she handed me a set of iron keys.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" she asked then, some concern reaching her eyes as she looked at me more intently. "Or do for you? This is me asking as a friend, so I want you to be truthful."

Touched by her offer, I took a moment and thought on it. "If it's not too much trouble, please just don't tell anyone I'm here… and thank you. I'll repay you somehow, I promise."

"Our da's looked out for each other, didn't they? And you took care of us when the orcs attacked Laketown, and again at the Great Hall during the battle." She flashed me a small, grim smile, and I knew she was reflecting over our fortune to both come out of all that on the other side, both stronger for it - though the memories might forever remain a scar in our minds. "Let me take care of you for once."

I bit my lip to fight back tears, overwhelmed by such selfless kindness in the face of all I had gone through lately. I managed a smile though, and to nod gratefully. We embraced once more, and then she left me standing alone. I watched her go, and when she was well beyond sight I turned and entered my new home.

The dwelling was nearly black when I crossed the threshold, and it took my eyes a moment to adjust to the depth of darkness brought on by the thick solid stone walls. At first I marveled at how light and airy Erebor had been made to feel, until of course I realized that the cause for the darkness was was that small window I had seen from outside was curtained behind two layers of fabric; the inner curtains were thick, heavyset, and of fashioned some dark colour that I could only guess at in the twilight. I drew these aside, revealing the second - sheer and of lighter colour to allow light in without revealing too much to prying eyes. I left these closed, and then turned to face the four walls that were to be my life, for at least the next several months I reasoned.

The room was large in comparison to where I had stayed in my last trip to Dale, almost as large as the central room of my apartments in Erebor, though the symmetric layout of the furniture explained why. Broken into four quadrants around a central table and kitchen, this was meant to be shared between four occupants - no, eight, if shift work was considered, but nevertheless, the 'personal space' of each person (or pair of persons) was no more than that enjoyed by Eleanor during her stint in the city. Four beds, two chests at the foot of each bed, eight cubbies for boots, work clothes and gear - four on either side of the door, and yet despite being set up for so many workers, none of it seemed dirty. Actually, the room was in immaculate condition, completely unused in fact, if my work in cleaning and restoration had taught me anything.

To have sequestered such a valuable piece of real estate, in a city with an apparent housing shortage, and forego rent from no less than eight patrons, suggested two things: Sigrid had gone out of her way to ensure my comfort and uphold her promise to keep my secret, and that the value of of dwarven gold was once again not to be underestimated.

I spun slowly to take it all in, and when I completed my whirlwind tour of my lavish abode I dropped my bags where I stood, locked the door, took off my many layers of clothes, closed the dark curtains, fell into one of the beds and slept for what felt like an age.

A/N: Please leave feedback! Reviews really are what make this very lengthy process worth it! Also, I loved T. Swift's songs: My Tears Ricochet and Hoax, as a backdrop and inspiration for these latest chapters.