Hey guys! "A Light In Arda" has been on fanfiction for over a year now, which was NEVER my intention since the darn thing has already been written (I'm still buffing out the Smaug scenes, but other than that it's already written). Now, I find myself adding and removing things as if I don't have other responsibilities pulling at my time. This chapter isn't quite ready yet, but I've been working on it for months. I ended up scrapping it and starting over, and so I've been at it again for a few weeks. I'm still not THRILLED with it, but I decided it's better to share a mediocre chapter with you than no chapter at all.

Thank you for all those who have reviewed! You're the reason I post.

…

"The best kiss is the one that has been exchanged a thousand times between the eyes before it reaches the lips." -The Khool Haus

~Chapter 31~

A Tumble in the Hay

"You need to reach the mountain, before the last days of autumn," Beorn's gaze settles over us.

We're all gathered around his breakfast table, the atmosphere thick with unspoken questions. After being away for most of the day and all night on his 'patrol,' he's finally returned. But the news he brings is anything but reassuring.

"Before Durin's Day falls, yes." Gandalf nods in agreement.

"You are running out of time." Beorn rasps. "It shall take you a month to reach the mountain."

"But...it's still summer though." Bilbo speaks up, confused. "We have a good three months before the end of Autumn, don't we?"

"It has been an unnaturally warmer year than normal." Beorn disagrees. "We are now in the middle of September. The trees haven't shown any sign of autumn due to the heat."

This is bad. Durin's Day, after calculating it out with Balin multiple times on the road from Rivendell (and then having to mathematically figure out the dwarven calendar which is a lunar calendar, in connection to the Gregorian calendar which is a solar calendar) puts Durin's Day at October 19th. On earth the last day of Autumn is November 30th. (Or in December depending on which country you're in.) That means we really do only have one month left, just like Beorn says!

What once felt like endless days of walking is now almost at an end. In just one month, Smaug will be defeated or the company will be cooked like pot roasts. (Fingers crossed it's the former.)

"We intend to travel through Mirkwood. It will be slightly quicker." Gandalf clarifies. "If we keep to path, we should make it to Laketown within eighteen days."

Beorn shakes his head, already having suspected such a thing, "A darkness lies upon that forest. Fell things now creep beneath those trees unlike any before seen…"

I clench the wood of the table and feel myself start to shrink, slowly sliding down in my chair as he speaks, fear twisting inside my belly. It's happening. It's really happening. I'm going to freak out!!! I can't go through the spiders!

I must.

But I can't do it!!!

I MUST.

"There is an alliance between the orcs of Mordor and the Necromancer in Dol Ghuldor, and I would wager the enchantment comes from him since it has spread from the south." Beorn continues. At those words, the company's shocked and concerned gazes all turn towards me; the resident expert on Middle Earth's elusive Necromancer. By now, I've sunk so far into my chair that only my eyes peek above the table, riveted on Beorn. He notices the sudden shift in attention toward me and turns his intense gaze in my direction. His curious eyes bore into mine as he finishes, "I would not venture there except in great need."

I say nothing, and his eyes narrow, his curiosity growing.

"We plan to take the elven road," Gandalf explains. "Their path is still safe."

"Safe?!" Beorn barks, breaking our staring contest to look at Gandalf once more. I get the feeling he thinks Gandalf's a fool. "The wood elves are not like their kin in the south or west of these lands. They are less wise and more dangerous." His eyes flicker back towards me, "But it matters not."

My eyes widen at his tone, dread pooling in my gut. What does he mean?

"What do you mean?" Thorin echoes my thoughts noticing the change in Beorn's tone as well.

"These lands are crawling with orcs. Orcs...that are searching for you. Their numbers are growing...and you are on foot," His strange eyes are hypnotic. "Azog has gone, but another orc, perhaps even fouler than he, has taken his place at the head of their scout party. Bolg, spawn of the black pit, 'the Chaos Born', has taken command. You will never reach the forest alive."

"Azog is gone??" I gasp, speaking up for the first time this morning. I sit up a little so my head is above the table again, "But why?"

"I know not, save he was summoned back to Dol Ghuldor."

Dang it. I was hoping Beorn would say that he'd killed him like I'd suggested yesterday. The birds and the squirrels must have told him Azog was gone or something. I'm confused by his sudden retreat though, especially since he hadn't given up after losing us on the cliffs. Perhaps Sauron is super pissed that he failed and called him back? Will he kill him out of anger of his failure? Man, I sure do hope so!!

"I shall leave you to discuss your plans." Beorn stands, towering over the company and his table. He lumbers out of the room, many of his animals following closely behind him. Their soft bleating and squeaking make it seem like they are communicating something to him.

I sit there as the room descends into pandemonium.

"We aren't afraid! We can make it!"

"But you heard Beorn! More and more orcs are gathering! Our company only numbers sixteen!"

"We've made it this far! We can't give up now!"

"How though? How would we make it?"

"We must travel quickly. We must not delay!"

"Peyton?"

I turn, pulled from my thoughts by Thorin who is watching me carefully. He rumbles, "What say you?"

The table quiets down as everyone waits to hear my 'seer thoughts'. I interlock my fingers to keep my hands from trembling.

I can't do this!

Suntear's words come back to me, "True courage is born from confronting, and overcoming, the things we fear...the road you tread is perilous, full of uncertainties...yet these challenges hold the seeds of great courage..."

Psssh. Easy to say when you're as big as an elephant with razer sharp claws and beak and can fly anywhere you want!

I can't go with them. And not just because of the spiders now, but because I tried to get light yesterday and it didn't work. I have to stay away from the Ring, for the sake of the company. Thorin, Kili, and Fili are in danger at the Battle of the Five Armies. So, maybe I can stay with Beorn and he can give me a ride to Erebor since he'll be there too?

I clear my throat, doing a quick run-down of the quest in my mind and murmur, "He's right. On foot you won't make it. But, if we can convince him to lend you his horses, you should get there quick enough." I look back up to Thorin, regret showing on my face, "You also need supplies or the company will starve in Mirkwood before you reach the end."

The company notice my specific wording and stare at me with different measures of cautious disbelief.

"You mean 'before we reach the end'...don't you? Pey?" Kili questions warily, speaking up for everyone.

I look down at the wooden table and start scratching at the edge with my fingernail, shame filling me. I always knew I wouldn't be able to make it through Mirkwood. I never have. Always choosing to skip over that part with my siblings. I guess history repeats itself. "I...I'm sorry. I won't be going with you."

"You most certainly will!" Gandalf snaps, causing me to look up at where he glares at me, his blue eyes flashing. I can tell that I've seriously disappointed him. "You have not come this far to only come this far. I won't allow it!"

He thinks that this is about the spiders. But this is about something far more important. (But...yeah, ok, the spiders are an enormous part of it too that I've spent all my time on this quest trying to NOT think about.)

"Come on, Pey!" Fili guaffs and shakes his head, "You can't let a bunch of spiders keep you from our quest!"

He think's it's the spiders too.

I look back down at the table, keeping silent, not disbanding them of their belief. I can feel Bilbo's dismayed and distraught gaze on the side of my face. And I dare not look at him.

"We'll protect you!" Ori stands up bravely, causing me to glance his direction. "I won't let a spider get near you!" He continues. This time, unlike his comment about the stabbing the dragon in bilbo's house, Dori doesn't pull him down but rather nods in agreement.

"You've come all this way only to give up?" Dwalin growls, his scowl fierce as he echoes Gandalf's words, "Just going to stay here playin' cutsey housewife with the Shapeshifter?"

I blink at him, my brows furrowing in confusion. "What are you talking about?!" I demand, my stomach clenching as the realization hits me.

Oh, he did NOT just suggest that!!!

"I'm talking about ye keeping house with Beorn's animals the other day!" Dwalin doesn't pull back any punches or soften any blows, but rather leans forward. He's never looked so upset with me before, not even when I nearly stabbed his foot while goofing off during a training session. "Were you tryin' to win his affections so he'd let you stay? Ye know he's not yer 'One', right?"

Oh, he just DID.

I ignore the strange tension that seems to come over the company at Dwalin's words and I refuse to look at Thorin. For all intents and purposes, I still have plausible deniability like Ballin does. Noone has directly told me that Thorin is my One, and noone knows that I already know he is except Ballin. None of the dwarves come to my rescue though. A few of them even murmur angrily in Khuzdul to one another so I can't understand.

"Are you serious right now?" I seethe at Dwalin, feeling anger and embarrassment rise inside of me. Calm down Pey. Calm down. "Cleaning had nothing to do with Beorn! It had everything to do with getting more Light!"

Everyone stares, confused.

"What? She wants to start a fight?" Oin asks loudly.

"What do you need 'light' for, Pey?" Bofur asks gently, only for him to be quickly interrupted by an angry Gloin, "How in Mahal's name will being a scullery maid get you more light!?"

"If I was going to get through Mirkwood alive then I needed to get all the light I possibly could. Light that comes from kindness and service." I shoot Gandalf a disappointed look before finally turning to look at Thorin, who's silent gaze has been burning me this whole time. He's remained quiet thus far. I murmur apologetically, "That was my experiment I told you about last night. It didn't work."

It may have, given more time, but it was just one day and we're running out of time. I haven't done enough. Even now the ring silently beckons to me, the only human in the group, from where Bilbo sits.

"Peyton, I speak for the company when I say that we would never let anything happen to you." Thorin finally speaks, his voice firm. Almost cold.

I flinch at his tone, looking down at my hands, "I know you wouldn't just let it happen. You would fight the spiders, but it will happen regardless. Just like with the goblins."

There are some things we can change, and other things that are beyond our control.

"Thorin is right my dear, we won't let any harm come to ye," Balin says kindly, his worried eyes trying to convey something, but I know that he sees this for what it is: I'm trying to not give hope where there is none.

Bofur speaks up again, this time with a joke to banish the tension in the room, "Don't worry, Pey! If things get sticky, we'll fight our way out of it!"

I shake my head but then Nori jumps in, a sly look on his face, "Aye! As long as we stick together, we'll make it alright."

Then it hits me. "Spider puns? Really?" I raise my eyebrow, not in the least bit impressed.

"Oooph! Guys, I think Peyton's patience is hanging by a thread." Kili jumps in to the delight of Nori and Bofur. None of the other company members laugh at their immature attempts. This is serious.

I roll my eyes in annoyance. This isn't the appropriate time and they were super lame attempts. So why can't I stop the stupid smile that unwillingly creeps onto my face? These guys are impossible! But I'm going to miss them so much when we're seperated.

"I'm sure you'll weave a great tale once we've defeated them!" Bilbo tries this time, looking at Bofur and Kili for approval. Nori gives him a back clap.

"Ok, stop. You're all really bad at this." I snort at Bilbo, finally making eye contact, even while the stupid smile refuses to leave. "And I thought my song was bad."

"It was," Gandalf huffs, his lips quirkly slightly even as he sends me a glare. He has remained quiet in the hopes that the dwarves will convince me where he has failed.

"Besides, Pey! We've got Gandalf with us! What could possibly go wrong?!" Kili adds cheerfully, thinking that his words will buoey me up.

That was the wrong thing to say. The smile I had disapears as I feel the blood run out of my face. Gandalf won't be coming with the company. I'd completely forgotten! Just another reason I can't go! Who will help me with my dreamwalking?? He'll be off doing who knows what while the company is lost and starving in the dark forest. And isn't Dol Ghuldor just south of there? It's basically Sauron's domain!

"Guys. I'm not coming." I say firmly, breaking the tiny bit of levity. "You'll have to go on without me."

Way to ruin the moment, Pey.

"Don't be ridiculous."

I look at Thorin in surprise, as he speaks up for the first time. "Gandalf is right. You've come this far, only to give up?" His expression is calm but serious as he throws my old words back at me, "Don't be a possum."

"I'm not!" I frown, protesting. Yes, I most certainly am. "It's just-"

"You've encountered trolls, run from wargs, climbed legendary rock giants, KNOWINGLY gone into the goblin kingdom, and you have even yelled at my mortal enemy, Azog the Defiler, from a tree." Thorin interrupts, listing off my misdeeds in a no-nonsense way. He levels me with a look. "You've told me, time and time again, that you know we will reach the mountain, that you know we will succeed in our quest. Therefore, you already know that we will make it through Mirkwood forest. Cease this nonsense."

"I…"

I can't breathe. It's the first time he's called my arachnophobia 'nonsense'. Up until now, he's been kind to me whenever I've had an 'episode' even though he's not afraid of almost anything. But now, for the first time he makes me feel…. foolish and small and very VERY stupid for fearing the spiders.

The humiliation is like a sharp dagger in my soul. But I guess one thing I've learned on this trip is to hold my tongue. Instead of letting out the words of anger and pain that bubble up inside of me (words that I will regret) I choose silence. I scoot my chair back from the table to get up, refusing to look back while I walk away.

"Peyton…" I hear Thorin sigh behind me as well as the sound of his chair scraping against the floor as he too stands up. But I continue walking in my original direction without looking at him or the others, making it clear that his advances are not welcome.

All the dwarves start speaking up all at once, frantic, "Peyton! Come on, don't leave!", "Maybe we could find another way around Mirkwood?", "How big are these spiders anyways?", "Well, that could have been handled differently.", "I don't see what the big deal is, you just chop off a leg or two and they should leave us alone.", "You know she's aftaid of them though!", "They won't get near her; we'll give them a taste of our steel!", "Pey, come back!"

Their voices grow faint as I reach the front door. I slam it shut behind me only to feel bad since it's not my door and doesn't deserve my ire. Once I step off the wooden porch out onto the grass, everything starts shimmering in the sunlight from the tears filling my eyes. I grit my teeth and start off in a random direction.

I see Beorn out of the corner of my eye, collecting honey from one of his many beehives. I glance over at him, noticing him watching me. His face is somber as he takes in my gutted expression and shiny eyes, but I don't stop. I should probably go ahead and ask him if I can stay for a few months until 'the Battle' like I planned, but I don't want to talk to anyone right now.

I just want to go home. Back to my world, away from this stupid mission and the stupid king who I love, but is going to die because I'm too cowardly to confront a nest of monstrous spiders and a gleaming, cursed ring.

I squint away the tears so I don't trip over my own feet. I desperately want to go where noone can find me, but it's too dangerous to go into the forest with Bolg lurking out there in the shadows. What had Beorn called him? 'Chaos born'? 'Child of the black pit' or something sinister like that? I didn't know he carried such titles.

Can I go home yet, Valar? Have you had your fun with me yet? You can see that I'm not cut out for this! I was never cut out for this! I've tried to tell everyone from the very beginning and noone has listened to me!

The random place my feet leads me to is the barn where I first ran in order to escape the ring. Unlike last time, it looks like someone forked a BUNCH of golden straw down from the loft above and it's just sitting there on the floor in a large soft pile waiting to be gathered. The high pitched cheeps of the chicks and the gentle clucks of their mother greet me once more and I see them scratching around in the straw on the floor, looking for something to eat.

I pause, watching them for a moment. A soft gentle smile comes over my face and I feel my heart unclench. The tender care the hen has for her babies touches my heart in a very deep way. I wonder about how difficult her task is; to care for ten small helpless beings who rely on her for guidance and protection. It reminds me of my own mom, caring for seven kids. Luckily the foxes and cats and dogs here are vegetarian, so I'm sure that helps a ton.

Still, I want to ease her burden if I can.

Glancing around, I walk deeper into the barn where I spy a sack of corn, tied with some twine. After opening it to collect a handful, I bring it back to the small family and sprinkle the corn around me. The mother immediately comes over to me, clucking warily as her babies gather around her. Eventually, she sees that I mean no harm and eagerly pecks at the corn along with her chicks.

A voice clearing behind me, causes my heart to leap in my chest, only to realize that it's none other than Bilbo standing there, watching me with a nervous sort of expectancy.

"Oh! Uh, hello, Bilbo!" I freeze, my eyes widening. After a moment of hesitation, I manage a tired smile. "Um…how are you?"

He seems a bit surprised by my sudden civility and blinks a few times before catching himself. "Oh, uh, I'm...quite alright, thank you." He steps a bit closer, his eyes fixed on my face with a hint of concern. "And you?"

Honestly? I've been better. But instead of being honest, I indicate with my hand to the hen and her chicks, "Just dandy. Feeding chickens."

Bilbo stands there a moment longer before a change overcomes him and he shakes his head in exasperation, puffing up his chest and speaking very firmly, "Alright, Peyton. This has gone on long enough!!"

Now I feel wrong-footed. "Uh, what?"

He huffs in frustration and steps closer, his gaze intent. "Have I done something to offend you? Or…or upset you? I know..." he huffs again, barely pausing to search for the right words before it comes rushing out, "I know that I'm being rather forward, and please forgive me for that, but you have been avoiding me of late! And now you are wanting to do the same thing I almost did. And, well, I simply can't let you!"

The same thing he almost did?

"Uhhh, what do you mean 'almost did'?" I frown, feeling both ashamed but also lifting an eyebrow in confusion.

"Do you remember what you told me in that mountain cave?" He demands, his voice expectant, knowing I very much do. "I was at my lowest point and wanted to turn back. To give up! You wouldn't let me give up, and I won't let you either!"

I realize where he's going with this. "Bilboooo!" I plead with a half groan as the guilt of my hypocrisy sweeps over me,

"Don't 'Bilboooo' me, Peyton Silva! I have some words and you are going to hear them! You and Gandalf dragged me out here on this adventure, and you aren't going to abandon that now! I will have a story to tell once this is all over!"

My mouth opens to protest, because, uh, no? We didn't drag him out here?...but he continues without letting me speak.

"The purpose of an adventure is to become stronger, is it not? You said that people in your world feel small and insignificant, and that my story gives them hope. But what about you?!"

I gape at him like a fish.

"Well?! Does my story give you hope or not?!"

"You know it does," I reply feebly.

He nods, expecting that answer and continues in an agitated fashion, "Well, if I can do it, then...then you can too! You promised me that I would come back from this adventure. And you know what?!" He steps closer, taking both of my hands firmly, stopping my unconscious hand-wringing. "Thorin and Gandalf are right, Peyton! We've already gone through so much already! You cannot give up now when we're so close!"

I open my mouth to once more protest that even though the trip through Mirkwood is going to take a couple of weeks; I would rather travel another six MONTHS than go through that forest. But again, he speaks over me, not allowing me to get a word in.

"What's more," He puffs out his chest and raises his head in a most dignified manner, "I refuse to continue on if you don't."

I stare at him feeling completely riveted by his commanding presence, so unlike his normal pleasant quirkyness. For a moment, I can imagine him as a hobbit general, just like his great-great-grandfather was in the Goblin Wars. But I shake my head and huff in exasperation, his dogged determination wearing my resolve down, "You can't Bilbo. You have go on with the company!"

"Do not tell me what I can and cannot do, Miss Silva!" Bilbo snaps back, as high and mighty as if he were the Dane of Hobbiton himself. "I don't have to do anything that I don't want to, just like you don't. You are not going to stay behind or else I will too! There is something important for you and I to do in that forest. And we shall get through it! TOGETHER!"

My eyes tear up and my throat clenches. I can't help but feel moved by his words. How can someone so small be so couragous??

"Bilbo," I smile through the tears, opening my arms to indicate that I want a hug.

"Oh, bother and confound it," he huffs, rolling his eyes at my change in demeanor but coming to embrace me nonetheless. "You humans...always finding a way to make things more complicated. And so emotional too!" Though his words are gruff, there's a gentle humor in his tone that makes me smile. I can't understand him very well as he continues grumbling to himself good-naturedly into my shoulder while I hug his short frame, but I hear bits and pieces. "Avoid me for two days...*unintelligible grumbling*...Now you want a hug?...*more inaudible grumbling*...absolutely ridiculous..."

I squeeze him even tighter, overwhelmed by a brotherly love so deep that I wish we were conjoined twins. He's so good to me and everyone else.

As I ponder our situation for a moment, the rest of Suntear's words come to mind; "Stand tall against your fears, Peyton Silva, and find the strength to move forward. Only then will you conquer your fear."

The only way I can conquer my fear is to do what Bilbo did in Gollum's tunnels and what he will do with Smaug: to simply go through it, nomatter how painful or scary.

"Now," Bilbo mumbles into my shoulder, his attitude gentling. "What happened yesterday when I showed you the ri-"

"Am I interrupting something?"

Both Bilbo and I startle and turn to see Thorin himself standing in the open doorway, watching us embrace. A mix of relief and dread washes over me at his appearance. It's perfect timing, actually, since I haven't figured out how to explain to Bilbo my reaction to the ring yet.

Oh my gosh! THE RING! I've been alone with him this entire time!

"No! Not at all!" I say, stepping back from Bilbo in sudden fear of the ring while Bilbo simultaneously says, "Uh, yes, actually, we're talking."

We turn to look at each other, me shocked that he would stand up against Thorin and him confused that my words are at odds with his. I worry, waiting for the ring to tempt me to steal it. Only...there's nothing.

I don't feel...anything?? Did he leave it in his pack? My eyes glance down at his pocket in confusion.

Thorin watches us for a moment before turning his firm gaze on Bilbo, "Bilbo, Balin would like to speak with you." His deep tone is mild, but it brooks no argument.

Although part of me is perturbed by his rudeness (after all, if he has to ask whether he's interrupting, he clearly is) the other part of me is inwardly thrilled that he followed me and saved me from Bilbo's relentless questioning. But I'll be damned if I let him know that.

Bilbo, however, doesn't seem to be losing the backbone he's developed anytime soon. He speaks up, "I'm actually in the middle of a conversation. Perhaps Ballin can wait?"

"It's okay, Bilbo!" I quickly speak up, placing my hand on his shoulder. "Balin needs to talk with you, and I need to talk with Thorin. I'll come find you when we're finished."

I need to figure out what happened to the ring's influence. We were alone but I wasn't tempted by it! It's almost as if I forgot it existed! For a moment, I wonder if it's because he doesn't have it on him, but...no, I can feel the wisps of darkness emanating from his pocket. But the sinister feeling to snatch it from him is...muted. Only noticeable if I put my entire focus on it.

He looks between Thorin and me, then nods stiffly in consternation, walking out the door in agitation. As I watch him go, I frantically rewind through my thoughts.

What happened that made the influence fade? Most importantly, how can I replicate it? Does this mean I can go with the company after all??

The cheeping of the hen and her chicks tugs at my senses, prompting me to glance over at them. Did my selfless act of service help? Even a little? I had done it without expecting any light or recognition in return, simply to serve her for the sake of serving. There's a key lesson in that kind of kindness, but I don't have time to unpack it before Thorin turns back to me, his expression unreadable.

I stand my ground, surrounded by golden straw, staring at him from a distance. As I frown, folding my arms, the amiable facade fades away. I'm back to feeling hurt.

"What do you want, Thorin?" I glare. "Are you here to make fun of me some more? Call me a coward? Make me feel like a weak little human? Well, there's no need. I already know all that."

Pain flashes across his face, and he walks towards me, closing the remaining distance between us, "No. I came to apologize for hurting you and to make sure you were alright."

We stand there, silently assessing each other like cautious animals, each waiting to see if it's safe to make the first move.

"I'm ok," I murmur, inwardly surprised. He's never apologized for hurting my feelings before. Throughout this journey, I've always been the one to apologize. He once told me I was the first human to apologize to him, but he's never returned the gesture. Somehow, I always end up forgiving him, unable to hold a grudge when he shows me through gestures that he's remorseful about something. He's a man of action rather than words.

Thorin is a puzzle to me, full of contradictions. He can be an insufferable jerk one moment, and then the most self-sacrificing soul the next. A fierce warrior, yet a gentleman. Two sides of the same coin. But he isn't finished.

"It was dishonorable to call your bravery into question. You have proven your worth and resilience on this quest and I spoke out of turn. I ask for your forgiveness," He looks contrite; his head slightly bent. His voice subdued and gentle.

I swallow, the same desire to give him a hug that I felt for Bilbo overwhelming me. But instead, I hold back, offering a shaky smile. "Of course. Don't even worry about it. As the company's expert on talking when angry, I'd be remiss if I didn't forgive you like you've forgiven me."

A sad smile graces his lips, and he looks down again. I sense he has more to say as I watch his facial expressions, noticing the internal battle reflected in his face. I have a hunch about what's coming next. I swallow down my panic and wait, allowing him the time to process his thoughts. I owe him that much.

"When we spoke in the woods that morning, before the wargs picked up our scent... I know you felt it." He takes another step toward me, closing the distance just a little more. "The connection, just as I did."

I can't suppress the quiet inhales and exhales of my breaths, and my heart races as I struggle to maintain composure under the weight of his gaze. I try to respond with detached emotion, simple and curt, but it emerges as a breathy whisper. "I did."

He pauses, his eyes scanning me, before continuing in a low murmur, "And... have you decided what you want?"

I hold his gaze, my heart aching. I just don't want to hurt him. I don't want to hurt any of them. But deep down, I feel unworthy of him…a warrior, a leader, a king. No one should have a queen like me.

"I... can't." I drop my gaze, lifting a hand to cover my weary face, but not before catching the flash of hurt that crosses his features before he masks it with his kingly demeanor. "I'm not worthy of such a request."

His hurt turns to confusion. Of all the things he was expecting me to say, this clearly wasn't it.

He gives me an incredulous look. "Worthy!? Peyton-"

But I interrupt before he can say more. "Wait... Please, I... I need to explain, Thorin. It's time that I explain the real reason I'm here. The one event, or... rather... the three events that I was sent here to change."

His eyes remain on mine, unreadable. "Go on."

I swallow hard. This is it. The moment I've been dreading. I thought it would come after we reclaimed Erebor, but now I have to give him some sort of explanation for my distance. I hope it will keep his mind off me and more focused on himself.

I try to carefully choose my words, but I stumble all the same. "In the original tale, things are... different." I roll my eyes at myself and gesture to the air. "I mean, obviously. But... I... w-what I mean is... the Thorin Oakenshield from the story...the one I always read about..." I pause, chewing my lip before releasing the word into the air, allowing the sword to metaphorically fall. "Dies."

I freeze, watching his reaction, ready for my words to take effect. But when his expression doesn't shift, I'm momentarily stunned. Confused, I try again, thinking he hasn't understood. "You die in the battle after reclaiming Erebor, Thorin. The Valar sent me to stop it."

He nods with an unsettling calm, as if this isn't news to him.

I gasp, my eyes wide, growing frustrated at his apparent indifference. "Do you hear what I'm telling you?! I'm here to save you! To save the line of Durin!"

Finally, Thorin reacts, but his bitter puff of laughter and sardonic smile throw me off, even though there's no mirth to it, only bitterness. "I already suspected that was the case." His weary blue eyes drink in my stunned reaction. He quickly switches the conversation back to what he feels is most important, frustration morphing his features. "And you feel unworthy to accept my offer because of that?"

But my mind is still reeling from the fact that he's not reacting like a normal person would to hearing about their own death.

"I..." I shake my head, suddenly realizing his misunderstanding, and my cheeks warm. "I'm not here to continue the line of Durin. I'm here to save you! From Azog!"

He sighs, takes a final step into my space, and places both hands on my arms in a reassuring gesture. He looks deeply into my eyes and repeats, "I understand." His gaze is gentle, if slightly pained.

"How?! How do you already know?" I ask, gripping his arms in return, stunned. "Did Gandalf tell you? Did Bilbo?!"

"You already told me. In a way." He murmurs gently, brushing his fingertips delicately on the skin of my arm, sending goosebumps wherever his fingers touch. His hands reach down and take my hands in his own. I'm momentarily distracted by the zing I feel in my blood at our connection. The sweet feeling from before swells inside my heart as he stares at our joined hands, transfixed while he continues, explaining how he solved the puzzle. "You have been very open about the future, telling Bofur about the trials we would face from the very beginning, warning me about the rock giants and goblins before we encountered them, never once hiding the fact that there are spiders in Mirkwood or that the dragon in Erebor is alive. But you've always been very tight-lipped about what you were sent here to change. At Bilbo's house, you told me the quest would be a success, but it was what comes after that you were needed for. And you would let me know if there was something that needed changing."

He finally looks up at my face, and I can see the intensity in his gaze. "On the cliffside outside Bree, do you remember when you pulled me aside? You spoke of Azog. You vowed to help me defeat him."

I nod, eyes wide, recalling bits and pieces of that moment. Dang, he has a better memory than I do for sure. It was literally months ago at the very beginning of our quest. I don't even remember the full conversation, mostly I just remember how it ended; with him and Dwalin enjoying my embarrassment.

His striking blue eyes, framed by dark lashes, meet mine, an eyebrow arching. "You. A small human woman from another world... promising to help me defeat 'The Defiler,' with no weapons experience and not nearly as strong as a dwarf. I thought you were mad but kept my thoughts to myself after seeing how I offended you with such words at Bilbo's home. But what you said...how you didn't want me to be surprised when he showed up after we reclaimed Erebor... it was what first made me suspect your purpose."

No one can ever claim that Thorin Oakenshield is an idiot. He's extremely observant, and we've traveled together for months, which has given him plenty of time to work out the situation in his head. I had unknowingly spelled it out for him, because I'm horrible at keeping anything secret, on purpose or not. He actually put two and two together. All the late nights he sat far from the fire, smoking his pipe, brooding in silence, watching me interact with the company...a thrill shoots up from my stomach into my heart that he had undoubtedly been thinking about me, and what I was supposed to change.

"Why didn't you say anything?" I ask in amazement.

"I had not the courage to ask," he murmurs, his voice laced with a hint of shame. My fearless dwarf. "Often, I'd see it in your eyes whenever the company queried about your future purpose. You'd glance at me with a grimace and offer some vague explanation. And then... when I almost fell off the cliff in the Misty Mountains," his eyes grow intense, "I asked what you were meant to change...your face confirmed everything I suspected...and feared."

In an action that steals my breath away, he lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the back of my hand. I watch in surprise at the unexpected gesture, even as his eyes remain on mine, gauging my reaction. Fire seems to engulf my whole body from just the simple press of his lips against my skin. It's terribly distracting, making it hard to think through the swirl of emotions. His expression softens and grows more intense at the same time. "Whatever darkness you face, you don't have to face it alone. I'll always stand by you."

Desire and relief wash over me as I meet his gaze, a silent understanding passing between us. Despite the turmoil and uncertainty surrounding our quest, there's a flicker of hope in his eyes. A promise of unwavering support and love.

In that moment, I believe him. With Thorin beside me, I believe I can find the strength to face the challenges ahead. I can resist the ring's pull and increase the light already within me.

And then, I remember something remarkable.

Of all the people in Arda, of all the races to exist in Middle-earth, there was only one who rejected the ring at first sight; who was never tempted, not even a smidge. And if that wasn't impressive enough, he was the only one who attempted to destroy the ring.

Gimli, son of Gloin.

A dwarf.

Looking at Thorin's face, I feel a surge of hope. Perhaps he, the King of Dwarves, can help me. I need to tell him about the ring.

"There's more," I whisper, my voice trembling with urgency. "And, as hard as it is to believe... it's worse. It's the main reason I don't feel I can go on with the company."

Thorin stills, leaning slightly back, which makes me acutely aware of just how close we were just moments ago. His expression shifts, curiosity mingled with concern, but then his eyes suddenly widen at something above me. Before I can process what's happening, he grips my arms and spins me away to the opposite side of him.

In the next instant, both of us are knocked off our feet as an enormous pile of heavy straw covers us like a golden avalanche.

"Oomph!" I exclaim, the breath knocked out of me as I'm buried beneath the soft yet surprisingly heavy mass.

Thorin doesn't let go of me, drawing me into him with his powerful arms. He deftly maneuvers us so that he blocks most of the straw from falling on me. It's momentarily dark under the cascade of golden hay, and I can sense the weight of it pressing down on him but then we both pop our heads out of the large pile, choking and sputtering from the dusty straw in our mouths. The sweet smell and taste of alfalfa is overwhelming.

"Thorin!" I cough, the adrenaline from the suddenness of it all still racing through my heart. "Are you okay?!"

"Aye," he quickly works to free himself while brushing the straw off my face so I can breath better. "And you?" he demands anxiously.

He lifts me out of the pile, but the straw is unstable, and we can't find solid ground to stand. I cling to his solid frame to keep from falling.

"I think so," I reply, chuckling breathlessly as we struggle to regain our footing, I can't help but laugh, the tension of our earlier conversation dissipating in the chaos. "This is not how I envisioned our serious talk going," I say, trying to keep my balance as the straw shifts beneath our feet. "What just happened?"

The bleating of sheep reaches us, and we look up to see two thick-horned rams peering over the edge, the obvious cause of the avalanche. Their woolly heads bob in curiosity, and I can't help but chuckle at their innocent expressions.

Thorin's glare is baleful as he looks up at the two rams, who seem to have the grace to look embarrassed. As embarrassed as animals without eyebrows can look, at least. How'd they even get up there?

"Aww, it was just an accident," I look at Thorin with a chuckle. "Thank you for saving me." The golden straw is at odds with his inky dark hair. I lean forward and start pulling out pieces of straw caught in his hair automatically, trying to help him back in some way. I tease, "I didn't think straw could be so dangerous."

His head snaps to mine, his eyes wide, but I don't stop my mission to fix his thick hair. The pieces of straw shimmer like gold against the dark backdrop as I untangle them. The sensation of the wavy strands against my fingers distracts me as I brush and tug gently at his scalp. I can feel the warmth radiating from him. I've admired his hair since the moment he walked through Bilbo's front door.

An electric current hums inside me.

Pulling the last pale straw from his dark, wavy hair, I lean back, only to notice that his dark beard still has some dust and straw in it. "Your beard is very soft," I say absentmindedly, a smile tugging at my lips as I begin gently plucking the golden pieces out of that next. I remember the feel of his beard between my palms as I held his unconscious face on the cliffs.

Suddenly, I pause, noticing his expression for the first time and my heart gives a small jolt. His blue eyes are so dark that I feel I could be swallowed up by them. His gaze is intense, and I belatedly remember that for dwarves, hair and messing with hair is a very intimate thing. Whoops. It's not like I combed his hair or anything! Judging by his face, it doesn't matter. My heart gallops at the hungry look I see on his face, something dangerous straining against the bars of it's self imposed cage. His throat bobs, but he remains silent, his focus fixed on me.

My stomach gives a tremble, and for a fleeting moment my senses let him in. His scent is intoxicating, fresh from washing in the river yesterday, and I want more than anything to release whatever it is that Thorin keeps locked away. I want to lean in closer, to press my nose to his cheek, to feel his skin on my lips and his beard on my face.

I should move away, but I'm frozen, unable to retreat even an inch. He doesn't move either, gaze locked on me like a wolf with a rabbit. We're so close, only a foot apart, and my heart races in my chest. I'm captivated by the longing in his eyes that mirrors my own. Balin's words echo in my mind, reminding me of all I want but can't have. It's as if the universe has conspired to bring me to Thorin, only to cruelly remind me of the barriers that stand in our way. Yet, at this moment, it feels like the impossible is standing right before me, within reach.

An overwhelming desire floods my mind, hot and potent. I want to push him back onto the hay and make an even greater mess of his hair as I kiss him senseless. I hope he doesn't see the pure want in my face, but I think he does because his dark gaze flickers to my parted lips.

Stop torturing me!

"Thorin," I breathe, my voice barely more than a whisper.

"Yes?" he rasps, his eyes no longer on mine but seemingly transfixed on my mouth.

I wait desperately for him to make the first move, but he remains still, though I notice his breathing has quickened, more rapid than usual. Perhaps it's another dwarf custom, something Balin didn't explain? Thorin has self-control and discipline like no one else I've ever known.

But not me. Perhaps resisting the Ring has weakened my resolve, or the stress has become too much, or maybe I've grown too comfortable in his embrace. Regardless, the urge is too strong to resist, even if I wanted to.

"Forgive me," I murmur, my hand still frozen in the air between us with the last piece of straw from his beard. I stare resolutely into his face.

His eyes snap back up to mine. "For what?" he whispers back, his deep voice sounding strained.

"For this…"

Slowly, resolutely, I lean in and press my lips gently against his, breathing him in.

End of Chapter

Whoo hoo! (Dances around the room) We did it! We did it, yeah! We di-di-did it! We got to the kissing part! How did you like it? If you want to continue with all the spicy goodness, which is in the next chapter, (which was much easier to write than this one believe it or not!) please consider leaving a review!

I was planning to keep going with the juicy goodness, but SOMEBODY cut off the kissing moment too soon in their story, so I decided to do the same in retaliation! You know who you are!!!!!! XD jk jk.

In all honesty, though, this chapter is already at 8k words, so it felt like a good place for me to stop. I also went back and revisited previous chapters, and despite dedicating countless hours to ensure the story flows smoothly, I found that many places feel choppy and have TONS of spelling errors! So frustrating! I wish I could write this on a computer to utilize spellcheck, but I write using my cellphone, which doesn't alert me to misspelled words. If anyone has tips for checking stories for spelling errors while using a phone, please share them in a review so we can all benefit! Regardless, I plan to edit the last three chapters to improve readability and enhance the overall flow. Peyton tends to say "I did this," "I noticed this," and "I feel this" too much, so I'll be changing the sentence structure to avoid sounding narcessistic with "I this", and "I that" and "Me, me, me." Lol!

Just a little reminder: I like to let my story build up a certain number of reviews before moving on to the next chapter. No pressure to leave a review, but if you skip it, you'll just have to hang tight a while. After all, I didn't sacrifice months of my life crafting this story just for it to be 60 chapters long with only 25 reviews like some of the stories floating around here, right? Reviews help any author post faster! :)