A.N. Hello readers! First thing's first, for those of you who are new to this story, it is a sequel to my other story, "Dreamwalker." I suggest you go and read that one first, as this is a direct follow-on, and you will be rather confused if you decide to read this one alone. To those who have already read Dreamwalker, hello! Glad to have you back, and thank you for continuing with Danica's story. And to those of you who had read "The Witch of Dawn," this is my rewrite of that story. There are still some elements that are the same, but I wasn't happy with the way the story was going, and I think many of you felt the same. One reader also let me know that there were certain aspects that were incredibly AU, that I missed in my research. I will probably stick to the movie timeline for sake of moving things along better.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except my original characters, and plot points.

She was a mythic legend. One that spanned nearly sixty years, and was known by all races. Most called her "Dreamwalker," or "Nightingale." Some thought she had been sent by the Valar; a white witch who traveled through time and across worlds to save those she deemed worthy. She was a woman of love, justice, and war. Only she knew the paths of this world, and only she could alter them. The great King Under the Mountain had been saved by her grace, and become her husband. Their reign was cut short by an orc ambush. At least, that's what the dwarves and the men of Dale say. Those in the south and east know better. The witch is alive, and took her husband with her to another place where they would be safer.

She had to leave, for one darker and more powerful than her began hunting her. He, too, knew that she was alive, for it was his spell that had pulled her away from the mountain. His servants had spent the better part of sixty years searching the world, and waiting for word of her return. They were diligent and thorough, leaving no stone unturned. When she returned, for there was no doubt in their master's mind that she would, they would be there. She belonged to the One, and once she was his, nothing, and no one would stand in their way. So, while the rest of the world moved on in oblivion, they kept their ears open. No one could have expected word to come from the sleepiest place in Middle Earth.


Danica sat at a small, wooden table, with a small cup of tea in her hands. Everything was small in this house, including its owner, Bilbo Baggins. He was apparently a hobbit, and Thorin was a dwarf, and she, Danica, was human. She and Thorin had managed to carry the hobbit further inside, and gently wake him. When he came to, he nearly burst into tears at the sight of them. He hugged them both around the neck as they knelt beside him, which left Danica in a near panic. Thorin managed to calm them both down, and Bilbo led them into the kitchen. So, she sat at the table, in the house under the hill, and listened to Thorin and Bilbo talk while she fiddled with the red scarf that had been in her hands.

It had all been so strange. When she had woken up, the name Thorin had been echoing in her mind, as well as a light, warm voice, encouraging her; telling her that everything would be alright. Thorin had been there with her, but she did not know who the other voice belonged to. Though she knew she should be suspicious, she wasn't. She had felt calmed by whoever it was, as well as by Thorin. He was striking, and the more she looked at him, the more striking he became. She wondered at the bruises and bandages on his nose, and the ache in her jaw. Although, to be honest, every part of her ached, but her jaw felt like it had been deeply bruised. They had already cleaned some blood off of her face, and though Bilbo had seemed unsurprised by their other injuries, the blood had him concerned, though he couldn't tell her why.

From what she'd heard, her name was Danica MacKay, and she was from another world. This one was called Middle Earth. Her own world, was just plain earth, and if she focused past the headache, she could see a snow-covered house surrounded by trees. As for their injuries, the last anyone had seen of the two of them had been right after a battle with another dwarf. None of this information seemed to bother Thorin or Bilbo, but Danica wasn't quite sure how to feel. On the one hand, she felt overly bothered by everything, but on the other, she was rather content to just let everything play out. If she was, indeed, from another world, then she seemed to have very little control over what happened.

"Bilbo, how long has it been?" Thorin inquired, the uncertainty in his voice pulling Danica's eyes from her tea. Another cup of tea sat by Thorin as well, but remained untouched. His sword, however, was close by his side.

Their host pressed his lips together for a moment, then sighed, setting a plate of food on the table. "Sixty years,"

Thorin's face went white, making the bruises around his nose stand out, and, for a moment, Danica was worried he would be the next to pass out. Bilbo must have felt the same, for he reached out, but Thorin put up a hand. "Sixty years…" he breathed. "How…"

"I wish I could tell you. All I knew, from a letter I'd received from Fili, was that you and Dani had been ambushed and killed by orcs who had survived the Battle of Five Armies,"

"Battle of Five Armies? Tell me what happened, Bilbo. As much as you can,"

Bilbo sat back, preparing for what would be a long tale.

It all sounded too fantastic to be real, yet she couldn't fully question it. However, despite the masterful story-telling of the hobbit, Danica could tell that he was leaving details out. She suspected they were personal details pertaining to herself and Thorin, but was too afraid to ask. By the pull in his already-stern brow, Thorin noticed as well, but allowed Bilbo to continue. The tale led them through dungeons, rivers, and dragons. Apparently, Danica had helped slay the dragon, and brought about a truce between two races that had been at odds for over a century. After being rescued from a kidnapping, she had been a part of this Battle of Five Armies, though Bilbo had to admit that he didn't remember much, seeing as how he'd been unconscious. He was able to relay what he had heard from others, and, for some reason, what really surprised Thorin was that he had survived.

By the end of Bilbo's story, there were still so many questions left unanswered, that Danica didn't know where to begin. She looked down at the emerald on her left hand, knowing that was one of the details he'd left out. As she looked at it, she realized how bony her hand seemed, and thought she must have lost some weight recently, for the ring slid easily around her finger.

"So, Fili is still King Under the Mountain?" Thorin asked, gaining her attention again. He had gotten up a while ago to pace, looking pained at the news of the death of his youngest nephew, Kili.

"Yes. He has not married, and has named Dain's son, Thorin Stonehelm as his heir,"

Thorin made a sound in the back of his throat. It wasn't a completely happy sound.

Pushing some of her own curiosities aside, Danica asked, "Is there a way I could get in contact with this Gandalf? Maybe he could help us get our memories back,"

"My 111th birthday is in a couple of days, and he is likely to be there," Bilbo smiled. "If not, we can send a letter to him,"

She nodded, briefly shocked at how good the hobbit looked for his age, but assumed all hobbits must live that long. Thorin opened his mouth to say something else, but paused at the entrance of another hobbit.

"Uncle, we have more replies to the party invitations, but-oh, hello. I'm sorry, I didn't realize we had guests,"

This hobbit was young, with dark brown hair and startling blue eyes. He had a soft face, and warm smile.

"Frodo, my lad, let me introduce you to Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, and the Lady Danica MacKay,"

Frodo's eyes widened. "That's impossible…"

"Yes, it's not every day two people come back from the dead to knock on your door," Bilbo chuckled. "Unfortunately, neither can recollect how they got here,"

"Bilbo, is this your…?" Thorin's eyes softened as he looked at Frodo.

Bilbo shook his head. "I took him in after his parents died. His birthday is in a couple of days as well. He will be coming of age," the look of pride Bilbo had was one Danica could see any parent giving their child. No matter how they were related, it was apparent that they loved each other dearly.

Thorin smiled, and something within Danica stirred uncomfortably. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Frodo Baggins,"

"The pleasure is all mine," Frodo responded enthusiastically. "I've grown up on tales of the Company, and the King and Queen-"

"Frodo!" Bilbo's warning came one word too late.

Mouth popping open, Danica looked around the group, and seemed to be the only one truly surprised.

"Queen?" she choked out.

Sighing, Bilbo looked at his nephew. "Not only do they not know how they got here, but they have also lost their memories. Thorin only lost a few months, but Dani lost all of hers,"

Frodo's eyes grew wide and sad. "Oh. I am so sorry,"

"I think you need to give us the full story now, Master Baggins," Thorin said, voice low.

Both hobbits glanced at each other nervously.

"I'm not sure," Bilbo started. "It's all rather personal, and doesn't seem like my place…"

"Are we married?" Danica asked, having seen a band on Thorin's left hand.

Bilbo frowned with concern, but nodded. "Yes,"

It felt like all the air had been sucked from her lungs. With a faint, "excuse me," she left the table, and made her way outside. The front yard was too exposed to the road, and she didn't want anyone asking her if she was alright. She climbed up to the tree she had woken up under, and collapsed in its shade. She put her head in her hands, and closed her eyes, willing the memories to come. Who were these people around her? Who was her husband? Who was she? It hurt, like a large needle pressing slowly through her skull, but she pressed on. A voice echoed softly through the fuzz, warm and comforting. It was humming, or singing, and brought forth an image of Thorin. He was sitting next to a fire, holding his smoking pipe.

"Bree…"

"Danica,"

She looked up to see Thorin walking toward her. He looked more familiar now, like getting to know someone you haven't seen in a few years. She may not remember exactly how she knew him, but she definitely knew him, and cared about him. Any doubt about that had mysteriously disappeared, especially when she felt a desperate need to be in his arms.

"You sang to me," she said, stopping him in his tracks. "In Bree. We were in a room together, and you sang to me,"

He nodded. "Yes. For me, that was only a few months ago,"

"I remember caring for you. Do you…that is, was it a…you said we were friends," she wasn't sure how to go about asking the question that was laying heavy on her heart and mind.

Thorin had begun walking again, but she could see his discomfort at the forward nature of their conversation, and seemed to know what she was really asking. "Yes, though apparently I cared for you more than either one of us bargained for,"

Her eyes went to the ring on her finger. It wasn't quite the answer she had hoped for, but it was all she could really expect. That didn't keep her eyes from prickling slightly.

"I'm sorry I ran out, but it's all a bit…"

"Overwhelming. I can understand that," he sat beside her. "Do you remember anything else?"

"No. I wish I did, but searching for memories feels like pulling my skull apart. It's probably best if I wait for Gandalf before trying again," she tried to run her fingers through her hair, but got caught on of the braid. Frustrated, she moved to undo it, but Thorin caught her wrist before she could.

"Don't. Those are an important symbol in dwarrow society,"

He looked so serious that, at first, she didn't know what to say. She lowered her hands into her lap, and thought back to the conversation inside.

"How did you know we were married?" she asked. "You didn't seem at all surprised by Bilbo's answer,"

Thorin rested an arm on one of his knees, looking out at the other hills. "The braid in your hair is held together by one of my own beads," he gestured to his own braids. "Only I would have given it to you, and only if we were getting married,"

"So, the braid is the equivalent to the rings?" when he nodded, she felt a spear of guilt. "Then I'm sorry for trying to take it out,"

The corner of his mouth lifted. "You didn't know," he glanced down at her hands, and sighed. "I should tell you; you were married to someone else before me. He died a few months before we met,"

Her breath caught, but she managed to let it out slowly and controlled. "I'm not sure I want to remember that. Lord, there are just so many questions. As my husband," the statement made her blush, "you would normally be the person to go to, to answer those questions, but you don't remember much about me either,"

"No, but I learned quite a bit about you in the months I do remember," he turned toward her. "What would you like to know?"

She hesitated, the question getting stuck on her tongue. "Am I a good person?"

P.S. Sorry for the abrupt ending! I wanted to try and keep some of these chapters shorter, and this was the best place to stop. Thanks for reading! Comments and reviews welcome. :)