Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

PART 1

“Some who have read the book, or at any rate have reviewed it, have found it boring, absurd, or contemptible, and I have no cause to complain, since I have similar opinions of their works, or of the kinds of writing that they evidently prefer.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

                The Shire rested in the northwestern region of Arda, or Middle Earth as some would speak of it as. It resided in the remains of the Kingdom of Arnor. But man’s folly and evil wrecked the once prosperous kingdom until it was no more than rubble upon the ground. Plenty of petty and ridiculous wars raged on and their energy exhausted throughout the years. Enemies grew stronger and civil war ensued later in its history. The people of Arnor’s kingdom perished, but in their place the Hobbits took root and the Shire was born.

The Shire itself was as beautiful as it could be. It its center lay a cobbled road used by its inhabitants but at one time had been tread upon by great kings. Stretching fields of golden wheat and other crops spread until the Brandywine river, the knobby road leading beyond into Bree-land. In another portion lay Green Hill country and Tookland where the rolling waves of grassy hillocks rose and fell like the breathing of some beast. The warmth spread through each space; the folk just as merry. They took pride in their harvest and the very soil they tread upon as if it were a part of themselves. If one found themselves among the Shire folk, they would simply just need to ask if there was room and board somewhere and be pointed toward the Green Dragon.

Just around the bend was Hobbiton, Overhill, and The Hill. Within this area resided the Hobbit folk themselves and their beautiful Hobbit holes. Each were full of life and warmth and not entirely like the holes dark creatures tended to fancy. Of course, a Hobbit was far from dark and drenched in shadows. They were carefree and homely, their lack of wishing for adventures causing them to remain where they were rooted.

                In one particular Hobbit hole, Bag End, lived Bilbo Baggins. He was well known and respected among his people, but those who knew him still understood him to keep to himself. He was alone, unwed, and didn’t find any sort of adventures to be appealing. Not that he tended to get any info on them anyway, but if one traipsed upon his doorstep, he would have to turn it down, nonetheless.

                As a matter of fact, that is exactly what occurred one fair morning. Bilbo reclined on a bench just outside his home, smoking the most amazing leaf from his pipe. It was tranquil and cool for a morning in the Shire, the breeze flitting like bird wings through the trees above him. They whispered of something coming his way, but he ignored it. Hobbits didn’t understand the language of trees, anyhow. What would he know of their gossip?

                However, it surprised him to see a tall figure trudging his way with a long, gnarled staff. Bilbo was apt to pay the stranger no mind, until he inquired about the Hobbit’s morning. Bilbo wasn’t particularly having a horrid morning. It was quite the contrary, in fact, that he was having a brilliant morning. The air seemed adequate and the weather was fixing to turn, his favorite season just around the corner. If anything, the festivals in the future were to be the best ones yet.

                But, it seemed the Valar had other plans, as they presented him with a wizard. His beard waggled when he spoke, but his eyes held knowledge far surpassing that of the very earth he tread upon. A worn and pointed hat the same shade as his robes sat atop his graying hair as the wisps of his locks fluttered in the breeze.

                He was Gandalf the Grey, as he was well known to be among the Shire folk. His fireworks were the talk of the town, and talk among areas far beyond their cozy little Shire. But, it seemed, Gandalf was not there for festivities. In fact, he was there for a completely unethical and preposterous reason. The elder blathered on about adventures and his need for a burglar. Of course, Bilbo had no idea of whom he spoke. He figured the man to be lost and seeking that of which he couldn’t find in the Shire.

                But, Mr. Baggins was horribly mistaken. As Gandalf informed him, he sought the very Hobbit himself which caused Bilbo to scoff very horribly through his pipe. He was not the type for any sort of travel and had never burgled anything in his life. Why would he start?

                None the less, this didn’t sway the wizard for he simply informed the Hobbit that he would return or that Bilbo should expect company. Neither sounded to be right, and Bilbo ended their short-lived conversation by slamming the door in the elder’s face. It was highly disrespectful of the Hobbit to do so, but he’d no other choice. Gandalf was anything if not persistent and his constant mutterings of the wish of a certain Vala had Bilbo’s mind reeling.

                So, he shut out the wizard and slid to the floor of his home in hopes the elder would leave. After a few moments, a scratching noise causing the Hobbit to scrunch his nose. Other than that simple sound, nothing else came and Gandalf was presumed gone. So, Bilbo went about his day as normal and sat down for dinner just as the sun dipped behind the horizon and graced the Shire with deep blues and shadows.

                He was not prepared for what was to occur moments later, however. A loud, rather obnoxious know sounded upon his door and shook the internal décor of his home just enough to cause tremors within himself. At his dining table, he glared at the direction of the door with anger and a more shock than he thought he could possess.

                Never did the Hobbit figure himself to be thrust into hosting a party of dwarves. When the first arrived, he merely allowed the stinky fellow into his home with no more than a baffled nod. But, more came. And then more. Soon, his Hobbit hole was full to the brim with twelve of the sodding dwarves reeking of all things fowl and unhygienic. Among them, as Bilbo should have expected, was Gandalf.

                Soon after the throwing of plates and the dishevelment of his lavatory, was the arrival of their leader, Thorin Oakenshield. He was a brooding dwarf with the weight of the world upon his shoulders a permeant scowl. But, he’d found the Hobbit hole to be comfortable and had eaten his fill of Bilbo’s stew since the remainder of the Hobbits stores had been depleted of food by the others.

                There were things discussed and said, a unreadable map presented and a key to some mysterious door in a mountain. Bilbo was offered a contract for the afore mentioned duty of burgling, in which he was unsure of perusing. Then, the actual reason for their gathering commenced and the Hobbit found himself terrified out of his wits. Dragons were mentioned, a creature he’d only heard of in myths, and the possibility of stealing something important right under the mentioned beast thrown upon wooden floorboards at Bilbo’s hairy feet.

                Bilbo, being the soft-hearted creature that he was, fainted and woke later to a roaring fire in his hearth and the dwarves speaking in hushed tones once again. Gandalf tongue lashed him for his lack of adventure, reminding him all too well of his audacious kin that seemed to know no bounds when it came to skirt the countryside in search of a thrill.

                However, the Hobbit found his last awestruck moment to be the mentioning of another party member to meet them later in their journey. Of course, Bilbo had no intentions of joining the estranged dwarves and their need to reclaim their homeland. But he couldn’t help capture the sense of wonder at the thought of yet another person in their midst. Who were they? What was their purpose?

                And, Bilbo couldn’t deny the sudden tug upon his warm heart at the though of the other party member. A sensation of familiarity washed over him, images of this person flitting through his mind. He knew them, or would know them, far better than the company he’d denied joining. Perhaps, he should join only because of this mysterious member.

                “Who is this other person, Gandalf?” Thorin’s deep baritone vibrated across the curved walls of the hole. “What purpose do they have with us if they cannot even show to a simple meeting.”

                Gandalf held his palm toward the dwarf leader. “Calm yourself, Master Thorin. You will see in time. This person will become one of the most essential members to your party. They will come to mean more to you, to all of you, than you can even imagine.”

                “What do you mean, Gandalf?” The youngest of their company asked, inquisition in his eyes.

                “Well, Master Kili, if you must know,” Gandalf nodded. “They will save all of your lives. That is all I can say.”

                “What could possibly cause someone to become more important than our cause?” The blond dwarf scoffed.

                “A mere accident, young Fili.” Gandalf stated, and Bilbo couldn’t help but notice the wizard smirk. “An unfortunate, yet fortunate, accident.”

Chapter Text

Night Trips

“It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

                A stone corridor snugly closed in around her. Darkness clung to the shadows there as one would cling to life. Hidden and dangerous were these shadows. She didn’t trust any of the dark gloom writhing above her head. The flickers of flames danced from the torches lining the walls that seemed to stretch for miles before her. At the very end, a brilliant glow. Perhaps it was safety?

                Her feet were bare against the cold stone floor, stray pebbles biting into the soft skin of her soles as she pushed onward. The wafting scent of mold and rock surrounded her, but she kept wandering. She hadn’t a clue of where she was and only knew to keep mobile.

                Soon, the torches led her into a large cavern. Great archways swooped and scalloped above, carved by great hands of olden days. She felt her eyes grow wide as if witnessing the discovery of a lifetime. To each side were stone stairs ascending into darkened halls she couldn’t see.

                However, the greatest find seemed to spread below her in sparkling glory. It cast its own glow against the shadows, gleaming in waves as if the very spectacle itself was an ocean. She couldn’t fathom the vastness of the cavern let alone the incalculably of the treasure that stretched before her.

                Something rumbled deep within, catching her attention. A hum sent vibrations through her core, a similar reaction occurring to the stone beneath her feet. It cracked and crumbled, sending her to plummet down below.

                Yet, she didn’t fall to her death. It did not come. Something else entirely occurred to confuse her. On either side of her, stretching as far as the gold and jewels underneath, was the most interesting of substances. It glittered as the treasure, a mixture of fire and coal black plates. Its warmth flared beneath her as it shifted.

                A shadow fell upon her from above and she lifted her gaze.     

Only to meet eyes much larger than her own.

****

Aria shot up from her bed, fully awake. Her alarm, a simple vibration she’d been waiting to hear for what seemed like eons, tremored across her modest bedside table. Of course, she’d anticipated it, but she hadn’t expected to receive so little sleep from the previous preparations. She lifted herself from the firm mattress. Sighing and glancing at the brightly lit screen of her cell phone, she dismissed the vibration.

Silence fell thickly upon the little room. Besides the minute scraping of a tree branch against her window, nothing stirred in the quiet. She listened intently to the thundering of her heart in her breast while her breath escaped her moist lips. Licking them again, she starred at the door to her small room. Her pack lay waiting in the darkness, propped up against the baseboard. It was a humble blob of fabric and metal, filled with things she’d need for the journey. Glancing at the plain white walls stained grey with the night, she knew she wouldn’t regret leaving. Even though a roof stretched above her head and there had been plenty of food, the company didn’t serve as anything but a place holder in her life.

She was an orphan left behind long ago by parents who would have rather done better without her. She knew this even though the topic had been dodged more than she’d done in her physical education class. She was older now than her high school days. Her dreams were far ahead, far beyond what others could see. She wanted to learn, to seek her own future. She wanted to own a car and make a living for herself. But, she couldn’t with metaphorical chains digging harshly into her wrists.

So, she’d packed the previous days before. Only including what she could muster for a bus ticket out of town. It was a small city and she wouldn’t miss it. Not entirely. Sure, her friends would hold a place in her heart forever. But, she’d grown apart from them for a while now. They barely left her messages or called, and it had taken its toll upon her. She barely smiled and her happiness had been deprived for some time.

The dreams didn’t help her moods either. She couldn’t shake the familiarity of the stone corridors or the yawning halls full of gold. The torches blazed with light and cast shadows upon the hardened walls and swooping archways, flickering to drive the gloom away. The hall had once known revelry and joy, but it no longer held the light it once did. She didn’t know why the torches were lit in the first. There was no life.

No human life.

Something lurked below. Something large and looming. She could smell the reek stench of rotting eggs and smoke, mingled with the age old scent of earth and the swaying pines of the mountains. It wafted like a breezed, blowing her copper hair from her face.

She’d fall then, tumbling below almost to her death. But, not quite. Her landing became soft, with hard plates of fire and coal spreading on either side. She hadn’t grown scared, only euphoric at her previous weightlessness.

The shadow would fall upon her, and she would meet the amber eyes much larger than her own. And she would wake to her own room, drenched in sweat and clinging to whatever sanity she still held. They never stopped and she didn’t think they ever would. They did, however, become even more real than before. The scents grew more intense, the warmth of the creature beneath her felt even hotter, and the shadows darkened. Watching her. Reaching for her.

Aria sniffed. Turning the light of her phone on to see, she steadily donned a warm hooded sweatshirt and thick socks. Her jeans felt cold against her skin and she questioned whether or not she could press on. But, the snoring below the wooden floorboards gave her the answer she sought in an instant as the hatred for the people causing them rose like bile in the back of her throat.

Aria didn’t hate anyone. She couldn’t. Or, at least, she thought she couldn’t. Not until she met the people who would be her foster parents. It was a cruel word and an act that didn’t settle comfortably within her. However, with every movement, she couldn’t quell the pain splitting from the bruises upon her wrist. A result of an argument over keeping her in their house, or letting her go. Of course, she’d opted to go. She wished to leave the place and never return.

Alfred didn’t see that as very good idea. He’d lose his slave labor if she went to college. But she’d lashed out, fighting with all her might to at least go her own way. Her own way was not their way. Al was a large man, and if he didn’t get his way, no one did.

So, he’d shown her just that while his wife stood by and watched. There wasn’t a day that went by when he didn’t remind her of her folly. She was held there against her will with fear for what he would do to her if she tried to go. At least, that was what she’d felt before.

                She no longer was afraid. After the last time he’d forced, reminded her of how she was nothing but free labor, she’d stomped a metaphorical foot down within herself that enough was enough. He would not press her again, and he would not dare lay a finger upon her. As long as she lived, she would be free or die trying.

So, she’d planned and planned until she couldn’t stand the thought of it any longer. She fought herself to go, and then fought herself to stay. She didn’t know why she thought she needed to remain there, there was nothing left. She didn’t understand the thought that kept her there. It soon fell away, though, and her self-proclaimed mission fell back onto the drawing board.  

The artificial illumination of her phone light fell upon the cheap canvas backpack she’d stuffed with a week’s worth of goods. Seven pairs of socks, seven shirts, and her thick coat her grandmother had gotten her for Christmas filled the thing. Plus, at least five pairs of jeans. She only packed that many given the chance to repeat wearing some twice. Guys could do it, so why couldn’t she?

Remembering her grandmother caused her breath to hitch. She missed her since the older woman had been the only living family she had. However, she’d died not too long ago barely aware of Aria’s presence. She’d only known her granddaughter through luck, but that story still stung and she couldn’t let it stand in her way.

So, she set to work rehearsing her plan. She’d practiced and maneuvered through the squeakiest of floorboards, feeling herself a main character in her favorite role playing game. The puzzles served as a challenge, testing her abilities to move forward with her mission and escape. Sure, she was almost 25, but it still didn’t hurt to play games.

She swung her door open, having greased the hinges with some of Al’s tool lubricant. Its squawk fell on deaf ears, unable to reach those below. Before her spread the vast gloom of the second floor landing of the house. The darkness served as its own challenge, for she’d not practiced at night before. Her memory was sharp, however, and the path she’d marked in her own way gleamed before her in the shadows. The glow in the dark paint might have aided a little. Thank the lord her foster mother had a crafty side.

Lifting her pack upon her shoulders, she switched the light off on her phone. She spotted each small dot of paint she’d applied to each board that didn’t scream the song of its people. She couldn’t tell how many hours she’d spent making sure she knew each and every splinter and fiber of wood before she placed her weight upon it. She remembered each one and the tone it made with certain applications of pressure.

A rumble from outside shook the house, sending vibrations through the floorboards in into the soles of her sneakers. A storm brewed toward the west and she knew, if she didn’t hurry, its contents would dump themselves upon the land before she had a chance to gain any ground. The nightly bus would be there for at least 15 minutes before it left, for any stragglers.

She had an opportunity, bright and open just for her. She needed to hurry before she lost her chance. Staying the night in a train station was not her way of escape. It was far from it, actually. Glancing toward the window opposite her on the landing, a flash from beyond the panes illuminated the small table nestled underneath them. A vase of artificial roses sat pristine in the middle, the petals and plastic dew drops sparking with every flash from behind the glass.

Drinking in the essential oil scent of lavender that still clung to the air, she readied herself. Gripping upon the straps of her bag, she lifted a leg and began the trek across the landing, careful to place her feet where she’d indicated with her fancy paint.

With every step taken, she felt the immensity of her situation begin to drag her down. She kept on, though, pushing through the gravity that attempted to pull her back to her hovel of a room and shut the door upon her dreams. She needed to bust through the sense of false security she’d been made to believe would protect her and burst out into the world just ripe to make dreams out of.

She drew closer to the stair well, the shadows writhing in the places her phone light did not reach. She pressed nearer, closing in to descend down the wood stairs. Vibrant green dots gleamed in the shadows there, too, as her feet pressed into each indicated spot. Slowly edging downward with the speed of an over encumbered snail, she paid distinct attention upon making sure her foot didn’t slip. The stairs were always slick, the wood worn through the ages from the hundreds of feet using them.

Her heart hammered in her chest, her temples pounding. Her breaths fell short, but she tried so hard to focus on the task at hand. However, a creak erupted through the quiet house as a foot slipped without warning.

She froze mid-stride with a foot hovering just above the next step. She held her breath, lungs screaming for respite. Instead of doing so, she listened intently to the house as it groaned in the Oklahoma wind. It rattled the windowpanes, branches from the outside trees scraping like nails on a chalk board against the glass. She stifled a shudder.

                Feeling as if she were in the clear, Aria gradually continued her decent. Carefully peering around the corner of the railing, she saw nothing but blackness envelope the quaint living room. The faint orange glow of a streetlight fell like butter upon the fancy couch her foster mother felt a necessity to have. The slim bookcases rose high to the ceiling, what little fell under the illumination gleaming then wreathed in shadows.

Finally, she felt a sense of relief flood her as her feet met the cement of the bottom floor. No glow in the dark paint, no hassle. However, she knew she wasn’t completely out of the woods. As a matter of fact, her priority was to actually step into the woods. The easiest route to the bus station was a carved path between the stand of trees and the main road. A five-minute hike through the underbrush and she would be right where she needed to be.

In seconds, she met the front door. However, a sudden creak felt like a roar against the thick silence. She froze once again, listening intently for the source. Her breath stilled in her chest, only a ghosting escaping her parted lips. Her fingers barely brushed the knob as she stood there.

Someone groaned and panic split Aria in two. Immediately, and a quietly as she could, the girl rushed to the nearest thing to hide herself. Slipping in the shadows, she hunkered down against the frivolous couch. Her fingers dug into the shag rug, the soft tendrils of material brushing her palms as she crouched.

                The wind howled outside the windows, rattling violently. The storm felt close, but the steps toward the kitchen felt much closer. She stilled as padding could be heard down the hall. Not daring to release a breath, Aria waited until the padding halted. Something bright flashed outside the house, the light in the kitchen flashing just as quickly on. Rustling met her ears, a stifled yawn indicating her foster mother’s presence. Aria felt her blood run cold again, freezing her in place.

The moment seemed to last for eons. Aria heard water, a glass being filled, and a sigh. Aria’s focused on the flat screen TV, the reflection of the kitchen doorway. The glow of the light was but an orange rectangle among the black. The soft streetlamp illumination spilled lightly upon the floor. She grew anxious with every breath, but respite soon came in the form of her foster mother trekking back to the master bedroom.

The breath she held released itself. She remained hidden until she was certain the woman had gone, the squeak of a mattress reaching her ears. She waited again, her heart swelling with anxiety fit to burst through like a frightened deer from the brush. The wind intensified, berating against the windows.

The lightning flashed outside; the boom much closer than before. She had to move. It was no longer an option to wait.

Rising slowly, she scanned the living room for any signs of someone else. Nothing showed, and Aria nodded to herself and began to move once again. Quietly, she reached the door. Gripping the brass know within her fingers, she turned it clockwise. It swung open just enough for her slim form to fit through.

The cool gale from the storm whipped at the chimes upon the front porch, the swing bouncing violently. She shut the door quietly, stepping upon the wooden boards and rushing down the front steps toward the wood across the dirt road.

Chapter Text

An Unlikely Fall

 “There are no safe paths in this part of the world. Remember you are over the Edge of the Wild now, and in for all sorts of fun wherever you go.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit, or There and Back Again

Rain began pelting down harshly. Aria shivered under her sweatshirt, pulling the hood over her head down tighter. The cold drops were the size of quarters, pummeling upon her skull and piercing the thin fabric she used for protection.

Underneath her soaked shoes, she could feel the saturated leaves and moist earth give way to her weight. She didn’t hold many pounds, only what she carried on her back and many of her friends, and her foster parents informed her to eat more. She did, but nothing seemed to help her gain any weight. Her metabolism was just much higher than anything else. Lord knew she needed a cheeseburger more than Alfred did.

The trees above her head swayed violently, thrashing against each other in the wind as the storm enveloped her. Her wild red hair whipped across her cheeks, the pony tail she’d placed it in failing horribly. The path stretching ahead fell into the darkness of the night, a portion of it only illuminated by the artificial light of her cell phone. Luckily, it had been fully charged for her venture. At least, at 95%, she would be able to make it to the bus station and to her next destination while listening to her music to ease her nerves.

                Her thoughts wondered to her plan, or what little she had of one. The entirety of her strategy was to escape, and that was exactly what she had done. There hadn’t been much time in thinking outside of that. Now, with her getaway attempt successful, she needed to move forward but had no clue where to. Her next phase was the bus station. Yet, after that, a whole new country lay ahead and hopefully less heartache than what she’d been dealt with in the past. There were certain places she wished to go, certain things she wanted to see, but she had no money.

                No money, no anything.

                She held at least one destination in mind, though. Far, far from where she was. Further away from her problems and the calloused, bruising hands of Alfred. As she glanced down at her forearms, she could see the remnants of his latest work upon her skin. It still stung as if dealt the day before and not a few days ago and the memory of it had been the straw breaking the camel’s back.

Her visions, the ones they didn’t wish for her to pursue, lay far ahead of her. She’d had them since she could remember. A far, open country of green hills and peace lingered inside of her. It called to as strongly as the pull upon her heart every time she had a dream. If anything, she could start fresh somewhere else. She had everything she needed to create her own ideas. All she needed to do was to find the courage to pursue them.

                An old place resided in her destination. It once belonged to her grandmother and had long been left to Aria after her death. Of course, the Jackson’s never allowed for her to have such a thing. She was never leaving, according to them. Their free labor was not permitted to have thoughts, and they would do anything in their power to stop that.

                It didn’t prevent Aria from knowing about the place. The secret had been hidden in code within various other items the Jackson’s allowed her to have after her grandmother’s death. After receiving that much, Aria had to figure out the rest of her grandmother’s clues on her own. Some of which stemmed from the glimmering necklace tucked preciously under her shirt.

                It’s a fire drake’s scale, her grandmother had written in a letter she’d sent. One Aria had read just before her death. Crafted by the finest hands back in the day. It will guide you to your destiny and protect you.

                Of course, her grandmother was known for her delusions of age-old tales with monsters and elves. She’d even woven the story of a pack of dwarves on a journey to claim their rights to an immense treasure. This treasure, however, was guarded by a fire breathing dragon who coveted it above all else. Its evil kept others from laying claim to the old mine they used to inhabit, an aged town in ruins at its base.

                The company hadn’t been alone either. A small, Halfling creature accompanied them, an old wizard claiming the small person to be a burglar. Their journey was not easy and was filled with various trials and tribulations as they traveled a long distance from the mountain the dwarves claimed as their homeland.  They fought giant spiders, goblins, and many other things that had Aria rolling in fear.

                Aria sighed. The stories were just stories, the truth behind them as believable as aliens. She couldn’t deny the pull, the entire world her grandmother had built alluring in a way she couldn’t describe. For some reason, Aria felt she’d known the place once. In a dream for sure, but far beyond the surreal sensations she knew.

                The rain pounded harder upon the canopy, pelting her sweatshirt. She began to feel the chill to her core, shivering against the biting of the autumn air. Pressing further into the wood, her trail stretched ever onward. It was funny, she thought. She didn’t remember the trail being long before.

                Stifling the worry beginning to nibble upon her heart, she increased her pace. A crack of lightning split the sky in two, rendering seconds of light to illuminate the wood around her. Tree cover shrouded everything around her, casting long shadows and shocking her momentarily. She fiddled with the necklace beneath her rock band shirt, as she would do in situations that made her feel uncomfortable. She was, in fact, sensing the unease rising. Time was running out.

                Her window was closing.

                Hastily, she sped down the path. Thick black fell to her right, a sheer drop off into nothingness. The brush of various branches and limbs scraped across her sweatshirt and she swore if they continued, she be hurting in the future. Yet, the chill seemed to be doing that just fine. She felt herself shiver again as she pushed herself into a run. The slap of the mud beneath her feet seemed to echo loudly in the din of chaos and wind. She couldn’t help but feel it strange, among other things.

                A sudden flash of lightning blinded her for a moment, her entire world seeming to shift abruptly like hands jerking her downward. A lurching upon her heart caused her breath to hitch, heart thundering within her chest. The soft earth under her feet sank away rapidly and in that same instant, she fell sharply.

She felt herself crash into the earth, knocking the wind from her lungs as she slid down a steep slope. Branches and dead limbs cracked and snagged at her sweatshirt. She didn’t have time to scream or shriek in terror, for the emotion didn’t linger too long. The force of gravity seemed to shove her deep into shadow.

A bright flash snapped, illuminating the sheets of rain and glistening woods around her. She slammed her eyes shut, just as something solid struck the rear of her skull, pain arching like electricity in her brain.

Then, the unwelcome loss of consciousness rose to greet her.

****

The silence vibrated and the air shifted. It was sharp, like the blade of a sword. The residual scents he had grown accustomed to seemed to change, altering the normal paths they rode like butterflies upon the unseen rivers of air currents. A thrill tumbled upon the atmosphere surrounding him and for once, he was drug from the darkest reaches of his slumber to listen. And he did so intently, for it wasn’t just anything that caused him to wake.

Something was coming. Something different. In truth, he was not sure if he could understand it and he did not want to. He had grown so accustomed to his dark dreams, the one place he could be himself again. They welcomed his for what he was, who he was, and didn’t not judge him for what he had done. If he had a choice, he would choose another life altogether.

But he had not, and therefore, he paid dearly for it.

A buzz like that of the tiniest of insects tickled the furthest spreads of his mind and he paused his thinking to listen again. Just as quickly, a firm jerk tugged upon his core and the heart fire burning there. In a flash much greater than fire, his eyes flew open to the great hall and its silent ambiance.

What had that been? Who dared to awaken him from his sleep?

The feeling was not near, leaving him boggled. It was far, far away the distance and shrouded in dark shadows as thick as dragon scales. He could sense it upon the shifting air and feel a tinkle of warmth behind it not unlike a bright, flickering light. Focusing greater upon the unknown energy, he found nothing more that could answer the questions turning his mood fowl.

 Then, as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. The light, too, seemed to fade as the darkness wreathed it from his view. Narrowing his gaze, he searched deeper into the gloom, but it failed to yield to him. Something quite unheard of.

With a huff, he expelled the phenomenon as a mere trick of his loneliness in the bare halls. He dared not think any further upon it, knowing it did not concern him in the least. He vowed to find the source, however small he deemed it, and eradicate it if it drew near. That would quell the mild irritation at the disturbance.

Yet, he could not shake the intrigue and bafflement toward the rear of his mind. Closing his eyes to fall into yet another deep sleep, he pondered on the source of the fracas and why it had affected him so. Nothing seemed to have done that before. Not for a very long time.

Something was coming. Something different.

Chapter Text

The Odd Company

“That was the most awkward Wednesday he ever remembered.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit, or There and Back Again

Anger. She felt it as hot as a deep inferno upon her skin. It raged and boiled, toiling like waves when the moon was full. But it wasn’t any emotion she was feeling herself, and the source remained unknown to her. All she could see was the stretching corridor once again and the torch light dancing upon its walls.

She wished not to stroll forward as she had done so many times before. Something kept her from it, but what stayed her feet was indefinite. Her heart thundered in her chest, beating wildly like a caged bird. She could hardly breath, and the pain that sliced through her almost caused her knees to buckle.

“I can hear you, little mouse.” A voice echoed through the stone.

She felt her fear rise like bile within her throat. Who did the voice belong to?

She felt her need to flee building. The voice rolled across her skin, but not as nasty as its tone suggested. Instead, it left her curious. But, that curiosity would only lead to her demise. This thought itself had lodged within her brain like a fishhook. She couldn’t shake the feeling the anger belonged to the voice and it was in her best interest to steer away from it.

Yet, she couldn’t help but step forward slightly. Her body moved of its own accord, slowly slinking forward toward the opening. She could hear a thundering beyond, rhythmic and sluggish like molasses in the winter. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t fight against the pull she felt within her core.

She reached the edge, feeling her nerves burst like fireworks under her skin. She glanced around, but nothing seemed out of order. There remained only the vast oceans of what she’d consider a horde.

Then, a dark shadow fell upon her. Her gaze shifted upward, and she gasped.

 “Was it you who woke me?” The voice asked.

****

 “What in Mahal…” A voice drifted into her dreams. Its soft syllables vibrated her core, filling her with warmth and a comfort she hadn’t known before.

“What is it?” Another voice entered, deeper and more rugged than the first.

“I am not entirely sure.” The first answered with uncertainty. She didn’t blame them. What where they doing in her dreams?

“Oi, who is tha? Looks like a young lass.” Another voice, more cheerful than the others, brought itself into their midst. “Yet, I’ve never seen hair so fiery before.”

“And you never will unless you stand aside.” The deep voice from prior boomed. How odd, Aria thought. Were they arguing over someone?

Warmth spread across her skin. She could still hear the pounding of thunder beyond and the split of lighting. The tapping of rain met her ears, but she felt it not to be the same as what she’d been through. As a matter of fact, it seemed unlike the sensations she would gather from being on Earth. It was foreign, unidentified. The rain had found her again, to her unfortunate luck, but it had changed.

It was something else entirely.

It was also then, she found herself fully aware of her surroundings. The scent of pine and mildew, the shifting of the wind, and the indescribable noises nearby seemed to drag her harshly into reality. A bite of cold nipped at her feet, reminding her how soaked her clothes must have been. She felt the unbridled urge to see what she could, to understand just how she fared. Another part of her, the part born to run, wanted to know the current situation and how botched her plan had become.

But she didn’t dare open her eyes. Something willed her not to. There were, in fact, many voices wafting like a scent upon the breeze. Many, many male voices. She couldn’t help but sense a bite of unease at her current company. Her onlookers, perhaps, were not too friendly and she had yet to distinguish between comrade and foe.

She remained still, feigning ignorance and insentience. She wished only to be left alone to nurse her pride and what injuries she had sustained. Another thing, something deep inside, informed her of the impossibility of such a thing as well.

“Thorin,” the first voice uttered. “She just came out of nowhere. What do we do?”

“Is she alive, Mr. Baggins?” The deeper voice, Thorin, asked.

Mr. Baggins, or the first voice, hesitated. “I do not know.”

“Aye, let me have a look at ‘er.” Another voice entered and Aria began to wonder how many of them there seemed to be.

“Oin, thank you.” Mr. Baggins expressed, voice toppling.

Something warm slipped upon the exposed flesh of her neck, her entire body screaming to fight them away. She stilled herself, reminded of her folly if she chose to act on instinct alone. Aria was not stupid and not desperate to die so soon. She needed to think, to ponder how to fend them off before she could flee.

She soon realized, however, the warmth upon her neck was not going to harm her. It was, in fact, there to check her pulse. Perhaps the gentlemen in question were friendly.

“Aye, she is banged up pretty good.” Oin stated. “I see blood upon ‘er head. She took a wee bit of a hit.”

“If by ‘wee’, you mean a large hit?” Mr. Baggins asked uneasily. “That is quite a bit of blood.”

“Laddy, you best stop.” Oin growled. “If she wakens, that is was we will tell her. There is no need to send her into a tizzy.”

A rustle of something and the crackling continued, many groans and complaints reaching her ears. She remained still, unwavering to the urge to peek at her surroundings. Various thoughts flittered through her head. There were many options she would face once she alerted the voices to her consciousness. If they were healing her, did that mean they were friends?

“The storm is not done with us yet,” A much old voiced announced, groans following. “We have time to rest, I reckon.”

“I thought it was through,” A younger, warm voice wined.

Something flashed behind her eyelids, her nostrils flaring at the scent of the rain tickling her senses. The storm she’d been in previously still seemed to surge beyond her, yet she felt none of it touch her chilled skin. If anything, it was almost as if she were under some sort of protection. But she kept her eyes slammed shut, unsure if she had been given the right of way to sneak a peek at her surroundings.

“She’s quite beautiful,” The voice who had made the comment of her hair seemed allured, and she cringed internally.

“Bofur,” Mr. Baggins warned. “Don’t you dare…”

Something brushed her temple. Her body cringed, her blood boiling.

 The time to act was now.

Immediately, her arm shot like a rattlesnake from her side. Her trembling fingers wrapped around the thick wrist of the hand that had touched her, nails digging into the cloth sleeve adorning the person. She sat up, her entire body screaming and head pounding. However, she pinned the owner of the limb down with a glare, her eyes boring into the green-brown gaze of a bearded man knelt before her. A lush, brown mustache draped across his upper lip, dark hair fanning the pale skin of his forehead from underneath a furry hat with flaps. Braids stuck from beneath the hat, proving a very interesting display.

Who was this man?

“Oi, look there.” Someone huffed. “It took Bofur’s touch to awaken the lass. I don’t know if tha’s is good or bad.

The man’s wide eyes blinked as he nodded. “Aye that it did. It must be destiny.”

“Or,” Another face loomed behind him. “It could be the way you smell.”

Aria released his wrist, the man taking the opportunity to scoot from her and stand. She noticed then how stocky he seemed to be built. Besides the silly, winged hat atop his head, she spotted an earthly shaded scarf fit snugly around his neck. Broad shoulders adorned with quilted material she’d never seen lay securely belted over his frame, hanging beneath like the tails of a trench coat. An axe like weapon hung from the belt, along with a bag for various items. His frame, which appeared much smaller than any other male of her species, reminded her of the beings her grandmother had painted in the story. The man rubbed his stocky hands upon the trousers beneath his coat tails, boots of fur and leather adorning his feet.

Movement caught her eyes. From behind the man, she spied various others. It shocked her to see the variety of them, but similar attributes akin to the one before her. She counted them in her foggy brain, a final fourteen in total leaving her slightly uncertain and squeamish. The thought of so many men in one space caused her gut to wrench.

“Miss,” A fair haired man bent down before her. His hair gleamed in the light of a small fire flickering among them in the center and appeared braided just as the first. However, she could spot ornately carves silver beads tied upon the strands. He was handsome and almost charming. “Are you alright?”

At first, she couldn’t speak. Her voice had been lost for a while. Whether it fell silent from the loss of consciousness, or something else altogether, she wasn’t sure.  If she attempted to speak, she felt she’d fail. At least, it would be nothing but a croak if she uttered a word. For some reason, a sense of confidence needed to be wrought between the girl and the men.

“Bofur,” The blonde snarled slightly. “Look what you did to her.”

“Aye,” stated another dwarf with dark hair and barely any beard. His eyes were playful, just like the blonde’s. He, too, appeared warm and charming. “You made her mute.”

“I did nothing of the sort.” Bofur admitted, the flaps of his hat smacking the sides of his face as he glanced at his various comrades. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

The brunette knelt beside the blond, her body recoiling against until her spine pressed against something solid behind her. As the rain lashed outside, the flashes from the lightning illuminated the craggy surfaces of rock. They were in a cave.

“She does seem a bit odd,” The brunette man nodded, narrowing his twinkling eyes.

“What kind of garments are these?” Asked the blond as he reached forward, metal clinking underneath the long sleeves of a dark colored tunic he wore. Grimy fingers fiddled with the strings to her sweatshirt and she sucked in a breath. “Aye, what are these, miss?”

She attempted to slink away from his fiddling fingers, her heart racing in fear as she built her courage to fight him off. However, she noticed the blond blinking at her. Warm green eyes regarded the cowering girl and a large hand came to wrench the brunette’s hand from her hoodie strings.

                 “She’s scared, Kili.” The blond growled. “You need to stop.”

                The darker haired man, Kili, glanced at his sibling with widened eyes. “Fili, I was doing no harm to her.”

Aria’s narrowed gaze flicked between the two. They were kin. She couldn’t tell the similarities between the pair, but it mattered little in her situation. Her heart  thundered wildly within her chest, her breath threatening to lose itself as she attempted to gain it back. At that moment, she could care less if they were celebrities. She simply wanted away from there.

                Fili, the blonde, opened his mouth to protest just as a shadow loomed behind them. The two turned to glance at the tall figure standing in the mouth of the cave, lighting illuminating his silhouette. The figure strode forward, something heavy within his grasp. With a swing of his arm, the object was thrown to land between her and the brothers.

                “Leave her be.” The stranger growled, an almost territorial sound in nature.  

                The brothers glanced at each other, turning back to nod at the man.

                “Yes, Uncle.” Fili bowed his head toward the man, his uncle.

                The brothers retreated away from her, the object the figure had thrown resting near her thigh. Cold rainwater soaked through the fabric of her jeans, but it didn’t surprise her. She gazed at the thing, and with a scoff, realized it was her bag.

                In the blink of an eye, she quickly snatched the sopping wet object and unzipped the bag. Inside, she felt the rush of relief at finding her goods had not been harmed. If anything, they were slightly damp from the rain but still in decent condition. Leaning back against the solid rock behind her, she inhaled gradually to regain her resolve.

                However, there wasn’t much she could do to rid the stares of the others. She had been correct the first time calculating there were fourteen of them. There was one thing that she noticed above all else, though. As many of them sat upon the moist ground around the fire, and their eyes bore into her, she was appalled.

                She was the only female of the group.

                Wrapping her mind around it seemed, if anything, a chore. She could only stare out at the crashing rainstorm beyond the rocky opening of their shelter, watching the flashes of lighting crack across the darkened sky and whip violently at what appeared to be tree tops. The rain was at least something she recognized, unfortunately. She’d been in it earlier, but somehow, she’d ended up in a cave with a location unknown to her. She knew of little caverns in Oklahoma, Alabaster being on one of a few. She’d not been close enough to the area to justify arriving in a cave.

                The more she thought on the subject, the more her breathing increased, and the more her heart thundered within her breast. She felt herself at the edge of an abyss, her fragile resolve threatening to shatter all together. She was going to lose her mind in front of strangers. That thought brought a sting of tears to her eyes, her mind reeling with the situation. She couldn’t show weakness, but she had no choice. She couldn’t control her body even if she tried.

                Something entered her vision. Glancing down, she was surprised to see a bowl of what appeared to be stew held in front of her. Curling steam mingled with the rich scent of earth and storm wind, luring her from her ravaging thoughts and causing her stomach to clench in hunger. The fingers gripping the bowl were much smaller than the men from before, her eyes following them up to a warm face with soft brown eyes. They regarded her, blinking with twinkling comfort.

                “Here you go, Miss.” The man spoke. His frame was tinier than the others. A bare face shaven indicated he was not like them at all. Curls of auburn hair hugged the sides of his jaw line, ears jutting from the space between. She blinked again at spying the difference of the features, for they were pointed and vastly unlike her own. Glancing down, she noticed his height coming to about her torso. She was all of five feet and four inches, the clean-shaven man before her a little over four feet. She’d never met someone who appeared so mature but lacked in size. Her eyes traveled to the cloak and shirt he wore and the breeches that seemed to be made for wading through water. What stirred her the most was the fact that the man possessed bare feet. The only covering upon them was a thatch of curly hair. “I’m Bilbo Baggins, by the way. I thought you might be hungry, so I brought this.”

                She tore her eyes from the boggling man to the stew again, she drank in the scent of the broth as it tickled her nostrils. The bowl was wooden and roughly carved. A simple spoon of the same make dove into the contents within. She spied meat of a sort and vegetables, unsure of the sources of each. However, hunger was the beast seasoning and Aria found herself quite peckish. With slight hesitation, she reached forward with her trembling fingers to grasp the bowl. The heat of it instantly flushed her, sending tendrils of its comfort from her fingertips to her toes. A sharp intake of breath seemed to scare the little man kneeling beside her, but she smiled.

                “Right.” Bilbo stated, a quirk of his lips indicating she’d taken a step in the right direction. “Don’t let the others get to you too much. They can be a handful, but they mean well.”

                An inclination of his head meant he spoke of the bearded men around the fire. She blinked at him, returning his smile hesitantly. Her stomach growled, reminding her of its emptiness. She gripped the spoon in her fingers, the wood smooth beneath the tips, and lifted it to her dry lips. Sipping slowly, she felt the heat of the soup flush her insides again. As she swallowed the hearty dish, she favored the tang and wild flavor upon her pallet. Instantly, she began scarfing down the contents like a starved beast.

                “Hold on there, Miss.” Bilbo held his hands in front of him. “Do not be hasty eating that. You might…”

                Aria didn’t get the chance to hear what he stated. Accidentally inhaling a portion of the broth, Aria began coughing incessantly as if drowning. Bilbo shrieked, rising in a hurry and stumbling away. She attempted to breathe as best she could. She rasped and sputtered, accidentally dropping the bowl. The contents splattered across the cave floor, the soil absorbing what liquid seeped into it.

                The siblings leaned toward her, two large hands belonging to both coming down to pat her rather harshly upon the back. She leaned forward; her palms placed flat upon the earth. Inhaling as best she could, she rid herself of whatever she’d sucked into her lungs. Padding of feet rushed to her side, a cup appearing out of nowhere with a form of liquid sloshing within.

                “Here,” Bilbo’s voice interrupting her hacking fit. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, her blurry gaze lifting to meet his. “Drink this.”

                She received the liquid, gripping the wooden cup presented to her. Raising it to her lips, she took a sip and was welcomed by a warm and sweet, tangy flavor zipping through her to flush the cough from her system and bathe her insides with heat. It wasn’t water, but it wasn’t horrible either.

                “Miss, did you eat too fast?” the darker haired sibling, Kili she remembered, chirruped. He was poking fun at her.  

                She pinned him with a glare through the hair framing her face. Somehow, through everything, she’d forgotten to pull her hair up. Through the curtain of red, she continued to shoot daggers at the dark-haired brother, his fair headed sibling grinning incessantly.

                “Even though she can’t speak,” Fili stroked a braid from his mustache. “I think she’s pretty feisty. Even for you, Kee.”

                She eyed the bowl and the splattered contents that it once held. With a sigh, and a slight hiccup from her coughing fit, she collected the bowl and spoon. Bilbo appeared, ready to take them from her. She met his gaze apologetically, attempting to rely the message as best she could. He nodded and she smiled.

“It’s alright.” He reassured her. “I understand you didn’t mean to.”

Aria braced herself, lifting to sit back against the wall once again. The brothers aided her, an odd occurrence in contrast to their playful nature from earlier. However, Aria couldn’t feel any ill intent from them, no matter how scrambled her brain was from everything. Even if she had no idea where she was.

                 “What happened?” The sharp, dark voice asked over Bilbo’s shoulder. The smaller man jerked, wincing at the timbre.

                “I do apologize, Thorin.” Bilbo glanced at the man who stood behind. The firelight flickered upon the planes of his face, and Aria noticed a square jaw and dripping, black locks streaked with silver. Brooding eyes beneath shadows seemed to strike her down, leaving her heart to thump faster. Straitening her spine against it, she lifted her chin to the threatening aura the man gave off.

                The man crossed his arms over his broad chest, a tunic draped across his shoulders, the appearance of what seemed like interlocked plates of metal sheathing his torso glimmering underneath. Covering this was a darker material cinched in the middle with a belt of intricately carved metal. Heavy boots adorned each foot, sparking metal encasing the soles like the rubber clung to the bottoms of her tennis shoes.

                “Who are you, girl?” The man, Thorin, demanded. “I demand your name and why you appeared here.”

                “Uncle,” Fili stood. “She can’t talk.”

                “Can you write, or read?” Thorin barked, disregarding his kin’s statement. The harsh tones of his  voice almost seemed like velvety splinters upon her eardrums. “Ori, come over here?”

                Aria’s eyes shifted to movement in the corner of the cave where a hooded figure stood. Slumped over, he slowly meandered his way toward the group. In his hands he held a rectangular object. In the firelight, Aria made out the leather cover of a book. A feather stuck from the pages; plume well-worn from age. He pulled his hood from around his face, the cloth dropping behind him to reveal a set of gentle, wide hazel eyes set above a large nose.

                “What is it you needed, Master Thorin?” The gentle man halted; the book clutched to his chest like a lifeline. He was uneasy, insecure. He was almost too shy, cowering under the gaze of the brooding man who’s spoken first. Aria immediately felt sympathetic. She understood his body language, for she’d shared similar emotions during her childhood.

                “We need your parchment and quill.” The dark man demanded, “So she can write her name.”

                Aria sighed. The entire thing seemed ridiculous. If she could talk, which she knew she’d have to once she found it again, she would have told them just that. Yet, she still couldn’t feel her voice or lessen the scratchy sensation of it. The liquid Bilbo had offered her served helped immensely, but she still attempted to muster some sort of response to no avail. She didn’t understand the lack of a voice, the only occurrence of such a thing happening when she’d gotten sick. But, then again, she’d only lost it twice in her life. Each event had been far from pleasant.

                She shook her head, indicating she was not to play their game. Of course, the defiance was against what the brooding man before her wanted. His arms fell to his sides, tension rising like smoke from the fire. The others seemed to shrink from the overbearing presence as he strode forward.

                Bilbo stepped in front of the girl; his small body tiny against the impending man. “Mr. Thorin, there is no need for violence.”

                With a large hand, Thorin shifted the smaller one to the side. Bilbo grunted as he landed to the ground rather harshly, a sting of anger slicing through Aria in a second. A fire boiled under her skin, fists clenching to white knuckled rage. A growl escaped her lips as she tremored to stand. The brothers, shock riddling their expressions, attempted to aid her. But she stood without their help, eyes sharpened daggers pointed toward the incoming man.

                He was tall, much taller than her frame. She felt herself tiny against him, the insecurity nipping at the back of her skull. She pressed it down, as she did with her other emotions. Letting the rage take hold for what the man had done to Bilbo, she squared her shoulders to him as he came within a breath of her. The scent of sweat and rain reached her nostrils, mingling with earth. It was something she’d never smelled before. She read his face, observing his details as he stared at her with anger.

If it were any other situation, she would have commented upon how handsome he appeared to be. His face was a rugged work, almost like the walls of the cave had been what he was carved from. There were many things behind his features, many trials and tribulations he’d been a witness to. He bore a great burden and something she couldn’t possibly fathom.

A large, square nose sat between the brooding eyes from before. Deep suspicion and the slow rise of aversion could be detected behind the crisp blue irises. His beard framed his face with darkness, a mustache of the same shade encompassing his upper lip. A patch of the dark hair from under his bottom lip merged with the beard of his chin. He was rugged and wide; unlike anything she’d witnessed before. He was entitled, but not in the way she would be led to believe.

                “You. Will. Write. Your. Name.” He seethed, his warm breath tickling her cheeks. A large hand thrust outward toward the shivering Ori, possibly attempting to grab the quill from the pages of his leather book.

                She only glared into the crystal blues, her greens boring into the very depths of them. She would defy him of whatever he demanded. She wasn’t there to play a game with someone who didn’t understand her situation. She didn’t feel like doing anything. All she wished to do was to find her way out and return to where she’d come from. For the first time in forever, she only wished to be back home.

                “Uncle,” Kili stepped to his side. “If she doesn’t want to do it, don’t force her.”

                The larger man, Thorin, turned to face him. “Do you trust her? She is a stranger. An interloper upon our company. Are you just going to take in every wretch that comes into this cave?”

                “That is not what I meant, Uncle.” Kili held his palms to the man. “I only meant to give her some rest.”

                “I do not wish to allow some female to intrude upon our provisions. She is not even a dwarf. She is human.”

                Fili squared her shoulders. “You can’t just let her starve, Uncle. That is not what we do.”

                Thorin turned, eyes glinting with detestation. “That is what I will do if she does not say who she is.”

                “You cannot do that!” Bilbo announced. He stood, brushing himself from his sudden tumble to the ground.

                It hadn’t been the proper time, but Aria’s mind didn’t care. She was suddenly reminded of something, her eyes roving over the tiny creature as he attempted to defend her. A small scabbard, dagger sized to anyone but the small man, clung to his hip. For some unknown reason, her mind went to the stories her grandmother had woven during Aria’s childhood.

                The sword reminded her of a character within the story, a Halfling. The Halfling had been small, simple and soft natured, but determined to do the right thing. He was a strong character, full of courage and bravery far surpassing the others within the story. Something her grandmother had always emphasized was the fact that he did not wear shoes, hair covering the skin atop his feet. From her previous observation of him, he fit the description perfectly.

                In an instant, Aria’s breath hitched and heart began thundering. The man standing against Thorin was not a man and he wasn’t, then she knew the others were not either. This thought alone sobered her emotions immediately, because knowing what they were left her breathless.

Bilbo was not simply some small person. He wasn’t even human.

                He was a Hobbit.

                “You dare stand up to me, Mr. Baggins, when you yourself have caused more trouble than what you are worth.”

                Hearing the hateful words from Thorin’s lips stirred Aria’s anger again, her reality slamming into her as one would slam into a wall. Despite her sudden realization of what the subjects before her could possibly be, Bilbo deserved nothing of what the brooding being before him had reserved for her alone. She needed to adjust his attentions, turning his loathing back upon her. Bilbo had been nothing but kind to her since she’d awakened, and she needed to protect him.   

                It was then Aria felt something tingle against her skin. Like the tickle of a spider crawling across her forearm and the inability to brush it away, she winced against it. Yet, she couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through her chest. Glancing down, she spied the drake’s scale beneath her sweatshirt. The radiance pierced the thick fabric and the warmth snaked through her, wrapping around her trachea. It felt not unlike the first sip of tea upon her throat, the bliss just as sweet.

                Her voice had returned.

                Eyes widened at the sudden radiation piercing through the thick fabric in spears of light. It gleamed like a gas lamp given full fuel, slicing through the mirk and darkness of the cave. Everyone seemed to back away from her suddenly, but she remained stoic. Her anger began to build again, the man hounding the Hobbit in front of her. The others fell away as she closed the distance.

                “You would allow her into our camp, and jeopardize my kin because you feel sorry for her?” Thorin continued to boom. Bilbo winced against each barrage. “This…this wretch of a girl.”

                Enough was enough.

                Aria squared her shoulders, mustering up her energy before she spoke.

                “Leave him be!” She cried hoarsely; her voice darker than she’d anticipated as it echoed off the cave walls. “And pick on someone your own size.”   

Chapter Text

At Your Service

“He did not go much further, but sat down on the cold floor and gave himself up to complete miserableness, for a long while. He thought of himself frying bacon and eggs in his own kitchen at home - for he could feel inside that it was high time for some meal or other; but that only made him miserabler.”
― J. R. R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

                The silence fell heavy like the rain outside the cave. All eyes widened, swiveling to the redhead as she stiffly closed the distance between her and Thorin. The tall, dark haired man halted his barrage of insults, his striking blues wild when they turned to her. They regarded the girl before him as if she’d grown wings. Her head swooned, blood pounding her temples. Pain sliced down her spine, but she remained vigilant, eyes trained on the man ahead.

                “If you would have waited a moment,” She continued, feeling the strength in her voice returning. “And asked nicely, I would have told you my name.”

                The pendant beneath her sweater intensified, the radiant illumination casting the man before her in brilliant yellow. The warmth spread through her like the first sip of coffee on a winter day. It slipped into her veins, bathing her with heat. With each pound of her heart, the fire spread. A carnal, defensive energy forged its way through her entire being, enveloping in fingers of energy. There were various times she’d experience such a rush, standing up to bullies being one of them. The man before her was just the same and the very thought alone sent her into a rage she’d not know for quite some time.

                “As for why I am here,” She snorted, shaking the crackle from her voice as best she could. “I have no idea. I was running through the rain one moment and in this cave the next. Your guess is as good as mine.”

                Bilbo blinked behind Thorin’s impending frame. But the Hobbit straitened his waist coat with a huff, and stepped away from the man to stride toward her. She glanced at him for a moment, returning it soon to the dark maned being before her.

                “Miss,” the Hobbit inquired from beside her. She turned to him. “What is your name? Let us start with that sort of formality first.”

                She nodded, eyes lifting to glare again into the crisp blues of Thorin. “My name is Aria. Aria Jackson.”

                “Well, Miss. Aria, I am Bilbo.” The Hobbit stated, rocking on his feet with his hands behind his back. “But you know that already.”

                She nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Bilbo. Thank you for helping me.”

                “Well, it was the least I could do. You were, and are, injured. Now,” Bilbo nodded, “Can you explain why your… urm… chest is glowing?”

                She glanced down, the glow simmering. The warmth began to fade and she felt a sudden rush of exhaustion. With a shrug, she sighed. “I don’t know what it is. Something my grandmother gave me.”

                She reached inside her sweater, grasping for the drake’s scale beneath. It felt heavy and warm within her palm as she brought it into the open. It was curved, worn by years of wear and the passage of time. The crimson and black spiraled with amazing craftsmanship, the forger unknown to her or her kin. It was large, but as her grandmother had stated, it was only a bit of its former self. Old runes were carved into its surface, the dialect unknown to her.

                The item was old, much older than her grandmother could identify. It was an heirloom, passed down through generations. It was explained to Aria that the item was much more than it appeared to be, and had never proven itself to anyone before.  At least, it was what she’d explained and Aria had brushed off as little more than her grandmother’s crazy rantings.

 Her grandmother’s story behind it held little sense. Seeing it glow meant something else, entirely, and Aria wondered if the tale her grandmother had spoken of was true. She’d seen the Hobbit, the main character of the story, but who were the others?

“It was a gift?” Bilbo asked, sidling up to her. He was no taller than her sternum.

She nodded. “Yeah, she told me stories about it but I don’t really know much of where it came from. Or if any of them were true.”

The Hobbit inclined his head as well. “Stories?”

“May I have a look?” The blonde man asked. Fili.

She held the pendent in front of him, his eyes sparkling with the firelight as he studied it. He narrowed them, a grim expression riddling the various writings within the depths there. Then, his eyes widened as he took a step backward. She felt a sudden pang of worry for fear he’d seen something she didn’t understand.

“Who are you, lass?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why is that in your possession?”

“I just told you.” She sighed. “It was my grandmother’s and my family’s before her. It was passed down to me.”

“Tha’s not just some normal pendant, lass.” A tall, stout man came before her, shouldering his way to stand close. “Tha’s a dragon scale. It doesn’t look much like it should, though.”

Aria blinked. A dragon scale? Her grandmother had always mentioned it thus, but to hear it from another tongue, and a foreign one at that, seemed to drive home the fact that she was far away from Oklahoma. But, as her mind wandered toward the realization, she began to feel the nervous tension within her breast build. Shaking her head, she focused on the task at hand and the fact that she could not exhibit fear before the odd band of men.

Aria shrugged, her shoulders aching. “Your guess is as good as mine on why it is.”

“There is some writing upon it.” Fili stated, peering closer. Aria slowly receded from him, her personal space infiltrated by a stranger.

                “Aye,” The stout man leaned in toward her as well, his eyes narrowed in concentration. “Tha’ looks like elvish.”

                Some of the others hissed at the mention of a race Aria only knew to be myths. She shook her head, her mind attempting as best as it could to wrap itself around what she was hearing. But, at the mention of such a thing, it was to be expected that the simple human girl couldn’t fathom the thought of something she’d only known in fairy tales to be spoken of as if they were common place.

                “Elves?” She repeated, bewildered.

                “Aye, elves.” The stout man all but spat out the name. “Rotten scum o’ the soil, they are.”

                Bilbo touched Aria lightly upon the shoulder and she glanced down at him. “May I see that, Miss Jackson?”

                She nodded, showing it to the Hobbit. He peered at it for some time, warm eyes scanning the scale as if it were the most priceless thing. The tension in the air great heavy like the rain pounding the faces of the rocks outside, her heart beginning to constrict with the fingers of anxiety. Her eyes remained trained upon Bilbo, but she could sense the unease passing through the group. They were weary of her, and she didn’t blame them. But, it seemed, they were quick to judge. She didn’t know them, and they didn’t know her. But, at the mention of what she believed to have been something they didn’t fancy, she could tell they dynamic between them had already been tainted by their misconceptions of who they thought she was.

                It angered her slightly for someone to critique her that quickly. But, if the lingered upon it, she realized how little she cared. Her situation was much larger than their simple loathing of her. Maybe she, too, was too quick to make her conclusions of them.

                “This was a gift?” Bilbo finally spoke, eyes lifting to her.

“Yes,” Aria nodded. “But I’m not sure if what it is said to be actually exists. It’s a family heirloom.”  

“The writing is not elvish.” Bilbo turned to the others. “It’s something much older.”

The stout man snorted. “Than what is written upon it? Who is this girl?”

“I do not know.” Bilbo shrugged.

The singing of metal echoed from the walls. Her eyes darted to another man, hair as red as hers, gripping a weapon hidden in shadow. “Could it be Black Speech?”

Her eyes widened. The simple mention of such a thing send shivers down her spine, a chill creeping across her skin like spider legs. Within the eyes of every man before her she could see the same sensation. Fear struck deep and, with it, a sense of anger and loathing. The red head gripped the handle to his weapon much harder, and for the first time since she’d arrived, Aria feared for her life.

“No,” Bilbo stated. “I do not think it’s black speech. Gloin, could you please calm yourself. It’s definitely a dragon scale. What it says, we will just have to ask Gandalf.”

The red head narrowed his eyes and mumbled under his breath before placing his weapon back to its original location. A sense of relief passed over her, sending her shoulders to sag. She dropped the pendant upon the front of her sweatshirt, a sudden rush of fatigue taking hold and causing her body to droop.

At the mention of what the scale was, she blinked again and shook her head. A nervous laugh escaped her lips.

 “What do you mean? Dragons are not real.”

                A throaty, malicious laugh trumpeted behind her. She turned to see the dark, brooding man she’d almost screamed at with a spiteful sneer upon his face. The crisp blues all but burned with a sense of loathing she only knew to be reserved for her.

                From beside her, the stout man snorted. The stout man crossed his arms over his massive chest. He was much larger than she, at least by a head. A salt streaked beard draped over his upper lip as did most of the others, another section on his chin. However, unlike the others, a scalp free of hair and tattooed with unknown symbols gleamed in the firelight. Metal coverings she only assumed to be armor clung to every piece of him but his bare forearms, a cloak draped across his shoulders. Heavy leather booths adorned his feet, trimmed with sable fur.

“You are a fool.” The sneering individual growled. “Dragons are as real as I am. What do you think we are doing here?”

She bristled. “This fool has no idea what you are doing here. I could honestly care less. I just know I am not in Oklahoma.”

Bilbo cocked his head. “What is Okla-homa?”

Aria sighed. “It’s where I’m from. Where I was from.”

“Lass,” The bald man’s eyes softened. “There is no Oklahoma here.”

She felt her breath hitch, the thundering of her heart rivaling that of the din outside. She let her eyes fall to her feet, the moist soil of the cave floor coating the latex soles.  Somehow, she knew it to be true. Deep, deep in her gut, the sensation of home had left her. A new, almost sickening feeling filled the void that had been home.

“Dammit.” She whispered.

A small hand touched her forearm. She felt it to be Bilbo’s. “It’s going to be alright. I am certain you will find your way back home soon.”

Was he so certain? She didn’t know where she was. But, she’d been right in feeling the hole that had been home was now gone. She’d known very little of her new surroundings except for the cave and the storm billowing outside, but she no longer smelled the air as it had been where she was born. It felt off, different. If anything, it smelled stronger and clearer. There were no scents of car exhaust, or the smell of gasoline and pavement. She could no longer sense the illumination of street lamps or the overall envelope of the human race. Civilization was not present in this new place and it left the girl feeling lost.

“Where exactly is this, then?” She finally gazed toward Bilbo as he squeezed her arm gently. Something told her she should have known exactly where it was. Another part of her wanted to deny it all together.

“Well,” He stated, dropping it and scratching his chin. “Since you claim to be from somewhere else entirely, I don’t want to shock you anymore.”

“Enough,” Thorin bellowed. “We need rest, Master Baggins. Explain to the wretch…”

Aria bristled again, turning to the dark man they’d named Thorin. “Call me that one more time, and I will make you sorry.”

A smirk twitched upon his face. A challenge, per say. “How so, little wench?”

She squeezed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. An ache began at the base of her neck, a side effect of her fall down whatever she’d tumbled down. The oddasity of the man before her and his lack of respect for anything but himself seemed to make her blood boil. He’d called her things she’d only heard in medevial movies, but they bothered her nonetheless. Perhaps he didn’t know how to treat a female, and that part didn’t bother her. It was the fact that he knew nothing about her, but seemed to hate her all the same. It seemed her temper was beginning to flare, a mild result to having red hair. Or so she’d been told.

 “Another new name, I see?” She sighed. “Well, keep doing it and you will find out.”

Thorin stepped forward. A couple of breaths from her lips flew past, just as he sidled up to close the distance. She could smell the sweet scent of rain upon him, the droplets sparking in his ebony locks. They dripped from the tips of his mane, falling like liquid diamonds upon the soil beneath their feet. His crisp blues ignited beneath his brow, narrowed to the point of slits as she squared her shoulders. Their noses could almost touch, his looming figure almost a mere head taller than she was.

“I am the King of Erabor,” He bolstered menacingly, hot breath fanning upon her cheeks. “Do you really wish to threaten me, whore?”

Aria didn’t exactly know how quick she could be until that moment. All she knew was the fact that anger flared through her hot and white as soon as the word left his mouth. In the blink of an eye, her greens readily observing her targeted area with skills she couldn’t comprehend, her knee flew toward the one spot not covered with armor. She knew it would sting her own body, but the sheer force behind it would also leave him injured as well. The result would devastate him, but it would solidify her statement from earlier. He’d pushed her to that point, and the blame fell solely upon his shoulders. There couldn’t be a way it would not hurt him, but she could also guarantee he’d recover from it.

She moved as quickly as lightning. Knee met metal, all of her strength behind the maneuver.  Even then, she pushed until the acquired target reaction played out in front of her. Her arms flew upward, both hands gripping his broad shoulders as he leaned forward in agony. With another push, she thrust him away from her with a cry of anger. He roared in pain, crumpling to the ground in a heap while clutching where she’d applied her blow.

Standing strait, she glanced down at him as he struggled.

“I told you that you would be sorry.” She stated, un-clenching her fists. “Do not call me names again. I don’t care who you are. You do not know me.”

The silence that followed only seemed to thicken despite his groans of pain. A few of the others went to his side, attempting to help as tried to stand. Yet, in a fit of pure stubbornness, he fended them off, claiming he could do it himself. She figured he would be sore for quiet sometime and couldn’t help stifle a chuckle internally.

Bilbo’s wide eyed shock didn’t help her sense of right or wrong. Somehow, she’d figured already the man she’d kneed in the loins to be a sort of leader. In the rear of her mind, the illogical one believing her grandmother’s story, she already knew him and his company for what they were. Just as she’d figured who Bilbo was, she felt she would know just what their mission was and what they were. But, the logical portion of her brain didn’t want to believe any of it. As a matter of fact, it was in complete and utter denial.

“Mistress Jackson,” Fili stepped forward, the Hobbit starting. Holding his hands in front of him, Bilbo seemed compelled to defend her. She couldn’t help but stifle a smile.

“Please don’t hurt her,” Bilbo demanded. He shook, but she felt his courage. “She was just defending herself. That is all.”

“Bilbo, don’t worry.” Aria shrugged. “If they want to throw me out, then I don’t blame them.”

She didn’t. If the Thorin character was their leader, she could understand their anger toward her. She’d dealt a rather nasty blow to him for his disrespect, but she’d done it nonetheless. No matter who, or what, they were, it was considered taboo to knee someone in the groin. They were built similar to human men and, so, their anatomy was similar. Or so she assumed before. But, after her outburst, she was certain they were almost exactly the same.

“Are women like you always so quick to anger?” Fili asked. There was no loathing upon his face, only the simple expression of curiosity.

Oh, how things were getting to be weird.

She shrugged again, a movement she would possibly learn to adopt quickly as her signature. “He needed to stop calling me name. I’d had enough.”

“No one has ever done something like that to Uncle.” Kili stated with eyes wide as he glanced to his struggling kin. Thorin had not attempted to gather himself to his feet, still fending off the worried hands of his comrades.

“I’m sorry to have done that to him,” Aria stated, “But I will not apologize to him for doing it. I will only apologize to you and your brother if that helps any.”

The two siblings shared a strange glance at each other, their eyes blown to saucer shapes with shock. It seemed to be etched permanently on their face for the time being. The bald man stepped forward, followed by another, more elderly one. His long, white beard flipped toward the very ends. His face shone gentle and wise in the flickering firelight.

“Lass,” The white haired man inclined his head, a smile of disbelief written in his gentle eyes. “This is a first among our company. I can say that none of this has ever occurred before.”

“Aye, I cannot believe my beard.” The bald man stated, scratching the mentioned facial hair with an expression of amusement.

“That being said,” The white haired man continued with a side long glance to his bald companion. “I cannot deny this is a slight sword to our throat, per say.”

“Look,” Aria placed a gentle hand upon Bilbo’s shoulder, indicating he should move to the side. She stepped forward and shrugged. “I am very sorry for what I did, not to him but to you. I know he is your leader and you are close. But, I will not regret what I did or apologize to him for it.”

Fili strode forward, a glint of something she couldn’t recognize in his striking eyes. “You should apologize. What you did was very disrespectful, Miss.”

Aria sighed. “I know.”

“But,” Fili smiled, throwing the girl off. “I cannot deny that he didn’t deserve it. And for that…”

The blonde bent to one knee, the other placed firmly into the dusty floor of the cave. Drawing something from his side, the glint of metal caused Aria’s heart beat to skyrocket. She recoiled, stepping back away from the man as his eyes met hers. In them, she recognized something she’d never thought she’d see from these people.

Admiration.

He planted the tip of the enlarged butcher knife, his sword, into the dirt at her feet. Aria felt unsure of his intentions. Whatever it was, she knew it had to mean something largely significant. From what she’d gathered, they were proud people. Their exteriors were roughly carved as if they were the stone they stood upon. It wasn’t simple to gain their respect. If this was what he was performing, she would accept it.

“I am Fili,” He breathed. “And for your unprecedented act of defense against my uncle, I am at your service.”

Kili, the darker haired of the two, hissed. “Fee, what are you doing?”

The blonde grinned. “What does it look like I’m doing, Kee? Anyone who stands up to Uncle can have my sword and my protection. Especially if it’s a woman, because it takes a lot of courage to prevail against Thorin Oakenshield.”

A few seemed to agree. She blankly stared at the man knelt before her.  His brother pursed his lips, a tight expression riddling the smooth features of his face. His sculpted cheeks rose as he narrowed his gaze, but slowly he seemed to understand. With tentative steps, he strode to his brother’s side and knelt next to him.

“I am Kili,” He stated, drawing a roughly forged sword from his side to plant into the dirt as well. “At your service.”

                 A few strode forward, unease set thickly in the lines of their faces. Bofur, the one with the floppy hat, gave her a quick smile full of sparkle and mischief. He drew an ax, long and shaped unlike anything she’d seen in an axe before. Posting the head into the ground, he knelt before her.

                  Another strode forward and he surprised her, her eyes blown wide in wonder and confusion. A black and silver mane flared on either side of his head, but it was his forehead that brought her attention to it. Off to one side, and stuck deeply enough in there to be considered critical, was the head of an axe. He thrust a spear into the ground as long as she was tall. Bifur.

                  A large, obese dwarf waddled up to the others. A great braid of red hair slung itself across his swollen gut, beautifully crafted like a necklace. He was shorter than most, but his expanding boarders equaled at least two. He, too, knelt as best as he chubby body would allow, thrusting a large, black spoon into the soil. Bombur, as he stated, and correctly it fit him.  

                  She couldn’t move. Her breath fluttered across her dried lips, her temples throbbing. She couldn’t focus on the event kneeling before her eyes let alone comprehend what it all meant. Of course, a part of her felt somewhat unnerved at the entire ordeal. Who were these people and why had something so dumb trigged the act? 

                  “Miss Jackson,” The hobbit cleared his throat. “I offer you my services as well, for what they are.”

                  Bilbo, who’d been standing beside her quietly, placed his hand upon her arm. She glanced at him, blankly gazing at the small fingers wrapped around her forearm. With her free hand, she gripped his absentmindedly.

                  “Thank you,” She stated hesitantly.  

                  As if on cue, the men stood abruptly, a rustle and clink of metal and leather brushing against their frames. Weapons were placed back within the confines of their sheathes or belts they’d been housed in previously. Fili gazed at her, the smile he’d worn upon his face remaining there. He glanced at his once struggling kin, who had now decided to rise and grip the wall for dear life. She could see his broad back from where she stood, sides heaving as he recovered.

                  Served him right, she figured.

                  She noticed a few had remained standing, their shock still apparent upon their faces. She didn’t blame them, however, for their lack of knowledge concerning her. She did know them, either. Caution saved lives of those who were to heed its call. She could feel it radiate from them as it seemed to radiate from her. It didn’t cause her to form any judgement, her focus upon the fair haired man standing near her.

                  “What services are you offering?” She hesitantly asked. A tickle of unease caused her breath to quicken.

                  Fili’s eyes locked with hers. “Well, it is simple. We are here for you if you need us.”

                  “Sorry,” She snorted. “I am not accustomed to your ways. What I meant was what does it mean when you offer said services to someone?”

                  “Tha is blasphemy,” the wild eyed, red haired man announced. “She is a stranger and she had jus defiled our leader. Why would you do such a thing, Fili?”

                  Fili squared his broad shoulders, a sense of defense forming like a barrier between him and the blatantly angry red head. “She had proven to me that she is worthy of my service.”

                  “Aye,” Bofur agreed with a nod. “She is feisty. Perhaps we need that.”

                  She could hear the others chuckle, their eyes twinkling with amusement. But, somehow, the feeling was not mutual. She could sense the fingers of anxiety beginning to grip her heart. It squeezed painfully even though she knew she shouldn’t care of what others thought of her.

                  Her eyes strayed to their leader. Thorin continued to grip the wall as he had done previously. The fire crackled, the wood they’d gathered glowing orange. The ashes swirled among them like leaves in the fall. She could feel the warmth across her skin, trickles of it seeping into her heart for some unknown reason.

                  “I don’t think I deserve…” Aria began, but Fili interrupted.

“Since you have proven yourself in such a…” He stated, eyes swiveling toward the brooding man near the opposite wall, “unique way, you have shown us that you are strong and courageous. You are no dwarf, but anyone who stands up to my uncle deserves my protection.”  

                  Dwarves. Somehow, Aria already knew what they were like she’d already known what Bilbo was. It explained everything from their build to their braids. The various weapons they’d drawn were roughly made, as if carved from the stone they stood upon. They were rugged and coarsely spun, but the aura of good intentions hung thickly upon the air like honey butter. They were a loyal race, according to the stories she’d heard of them, and were the best at protecting their own as if they were the most precious thing.  She could taste their pride and their hardships like she could taste the rain upon her tongue.

                  They were the very company of dwarves her grandmother had spoken of it her tale.

                  This thought alone began to curdle within her breast. She did her best to keep calm, feigning an air of confidence and dashing down the bile rising in the back of her throat. The sudden realization crashed around her, threatening to bust through her fake resolve

                   “It was merely instinctual.” She muttered.

                  Fili laughed. “Well, if you call that instinct, I would love to see how a real foe would fair.”

                  She shyly smiled. “I…I don’t think there will be a chance for that. I don’t plan on staying long…”

                  Bofur clapped a hand upon her sore shoulders.  “You only just got ‘ere, lass. I’ve done pledged for you. You can’t get away from us that easily, now.”

                  “Aye,” Came a unison agreement from a few of the others. Bombur rose a wooden mug, a few following suit. Gloin refrained, as did Thorin and Kili and many more. She didn’t blame them. Her act of instinct was little to be named respectable. They were unsure of her, weary even. She was a stranger, and if she remembered right, dwarves were not keen in welcoming strangers.

                  “Wouldn’t my presence cause an up stir if I remained?” She pressed.

                  Fili shrugged. “Yes and no.”

                  “Thorin doesn’t take kindly to strangers,” Balin answered. “Apparently, to our fair haired prince, your act is good enough to win his services.

                  “Goodie.” She pursed her lips. She figured as much, however.

                  “Now that you’ve done whatever you did to him,” Fili continued, “It would be an act of the Valar to get on his good graces.”

                  “Well,” She stated, crossing her arms. “I don’t plan on any of that. I just want to go home, is all.”

                  Fili shrugged, stalking away to join the others. Bombur rose to take a bowl within his grasp, using his large spoon to scoop contents from a huge pot handing over the fire. Lifting his bulk to his feet, he shuffled toward her and presented her with a bowl of the steaming soup she’d almost had earlier. With kind eyes, he nodded as she took it. “Since ya didn’t get to eat some earlier, lass.”

                  The warmth flooded her immediately as she cupped the bowl in her palms. “Thank you so much, Bombur.”

                  He flushed, quickly waddling away. Slowly, she sank to the cave floor near her bag. Eyeing the others who seemed to have found an interest in other things, she gripped the spoon within her fingers. She was hell bent on finishing the bowl if she had to fight until dawn to do so. Hunger curled nastily within her belly, a reminder that she’d not been able to eat anything since she’d ran away from home. Unyielding to the scalding stew, she scarfed the meal in a matter of minutes.  

                  She finished her bowl, and Bombur quickly gathered it from her. She lifted an eyebrow as he scuttled away, unwilling to allow anyone else to “serve” her. Standing again, she took the bowl from his hands, leaving him bemused as she strode toward the mouth of the cave. The rain poured in sheets outside, Aria gathering her first glimpse of the land she still hadn’t gathered a name for.

                  Sheer rock faces rose in front of her high into the flashing sky. She wasn’t sure if the glint of white at the very peak was snow, the thought reminding her a little of the mountains in New Mexico. The tree line split the mountains in half, stopping just short of the very tip. The wind gusted violently, whipping her hair across her shoulders. Strands stuck to her neck and cheeks, dripping as the mist of rain moistened them.

                  Further beyond, a veil of fog clung to even more mountains. The sky was dark, the night falling like black velvet upon the land. She grew curious at the jagged peaks, the air much clearer than that of home. It was pure, untainted by the foul stench of cars and trucks. The quiet seemed only to be broken by the whipping wind and thrashing trees far out into the darkness.  

                  Thrusting the bowl into the torrential water fall before her, she watched as the gunk from inside was quickly flushed away. It proved difficult to keep it within her grasp, however. She gripped the spoon in one hand, stuffing it into the pocket of her jeans for safe keeping. Then, wrapping each palm around either side of the bowl, she allowed it to fill and swirled the contents until clean.

                  Turning toward the company, she flinched to see all eyes but Thorin’s upon her. His gaze had been trained on the ground at his boots, disgust and utter defeat written in the rugged lines of his face. For a moment, she felt somewhat sorry for what she’d done. It passed like the flutter of a butterfly wing. Shrugging, she maneuvered her way back to the area she’d found herself in when she awoke. To her surprised, she noticed a cloak upon the ground that she’d been sitting on. Brown fur flecked with white faced the ceiling. She gazed out into the company, noticing everyone but a particular dwarf had their own fur or armor donned.

                  Her heart jerked uncomfortably.

                   Dammit, it had to be him.

                  She placed the bowl down upon the ground near the fire, stooping to retrieve the cloak. She straitened, striding over to the glowering dwarf who had apparently been able to move from where he’d placed himself earlier. He sat upon the ground, an apparent grimace semi-permanent upon his face. Stopping right in front of him, she felt the ambiance grow silent around her. Tension stretched taught like a string, encompassing her heart. However, she pushed it as best she could to alleviate the sense of nausea threatening to build there.

                  “Here,” She stated, extending an arm with the cloak upon it. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t want to get this dirty by sitting on it.”

                  His gaze shifted outside to the rain storm that raged beyond. She felt the mist of it brush the moist tendrils of hair upon her back. He’d chosen a wall toward the mouth and she understood it to be the one he’d clung to moments ago. They remained in stagnant silence for what seemed like eons, his back to the cave wall and her arm beginning to ache.

                  When she felt herself about to set it at his feet, his crisp blues shifted to her, pinning her there for a moment. Uncrossing his arms and moving to stand, he swiped the cloak from her fingers harshly and stalked off toward the mouth of the cave. She followed him with her eyes as he donned the apparel, standing with his back to the company.

                  Shaking her head, she turned to her spot and slunk down to the floor. Her section of cave wall served as a solidity, keeping her nerves from misfiring and igniting a calamity inside her. She still held no clue as to where she was. As far as she’d gathered, she was no longer in America. She was no longer on Earth. If anything, she was far beyond where no one could find her.

                  The Hobbit appeared at her side, sliding down next to her to sit. He stayed silent for a moment, a pipe between his lips. He puffed readily upon the thing, blowing smoke rings into the cave air. They rippled but kept their form until Bofur found it amusing to break them. He laughed, a hearty sound echoing from the walls. It filled Aria with warmth, allowing her to shift deeper into the earth at her bum and inhale slower.

                  The sweet scent of whatever lay in the pipe lulled her. She realized then how exhausted she truly was. Her aching head in tandem with the sudden energy she’d had to express began to slowly take hold of her. She wanted to relax, to sink into the sweet smell of Bilbo’s pipe smoke. She couldn’t, she knew better. She had no idea where she was located and that thought caused her nerves to scream. But, her body had had enough, its preservation mechanisms kicking into full gear. Her head rolled, meeting the wall behind her with a soft thud.

                  “You are a bit of a calamity, Miss Aria.” A voice, Bilbo’s voice, grasped her from potential sleep.

                  “Why is that?” Her tired voice sounded as if she’d been drinking.

                  “You are not from here, that is definitely true.” Bilbo smirked against the pipe in his lips. Taking it from his mouth, he blew the smoke before turning to her. “And you are very different compared to what we have seen so far.”

                  She scoffed, her lungs clenching from the coughing fit earlier. “Well, I have no idea what you have met so far, but I guess you are welcome.”  

                  “And your humor,” He stated. “It is very unlikely the dwarves will understand it. Perhaps they will, but most likely they will only gain confusion from it.”

                  “Thank you, again.” She shrugged. “I’m really not trying to do much of anything except figure out where I am and why.”

                  Bilbo nodded, gazing out toward the mouth of the cave. Her tired eyes rested on the dark form still brooding near it. The Hobbit puffed his pipe more before he answered. “What do you need to know, Miss Jackson?”  

                  “Aria,” She encouraged. “It’s just Aria.”

                  “Alright, Miss Aria.” He smiled. “What is it you are still needing to understand?”

                  She sighed again. “Where am I? Why am I here? Who are you all?”

                  “I can answer two of them.” He inclined his head toward her. “The other, I would suggest having Gandalf answer whenever the confounded wizard shows his face again.”

                  “Gandalf?” She asked, brow inching upward.

                  “Oh, yes.” He nodded vigorously, “A very unreliable, but reliable man. If that makes any sense. He’s the reason why I am here in the first place. Blasted wizard thinks I’m a burglar. I have never burgled anything in my life.”

                  Aria couldn’t help but chuckle. “I imagine you haven’t. Are you Hobbits very peaceful?”

                  “Well, it would depend on the occasion. But we mostly are a very warm folk.” He stated, eyes cast upwards in thought. “Except when there is merrymaking involved. Then, a few of us may get a bit too jovial.”

                  Aria gazed toward the dwarf leader , his hands clutched at the dip of his lower back. “I think I may have messed up, Bilbo.”

                  “ ‘Messed up’?” Bilbo mirrored. “I have a feeling that means you have made a mistake. Why would you think that?”

                  She wanted to sigh, but seeing as she’d done it so many times, she only shrugged. “I may have made the leader of the group angry with me just enough to where I get thrown out. I have no idea where I’m going to go if that happens.”

                  “Well, I can agree with you on one thing.” He inclined his head toward Thorin, “You have angered him. But, as you stated earlier, he deserved it. Not that I am wishing to see that again.”

                  “Yeah,” She gave a nervous laugh. “You’re right on that. I don’t think I want to do it again.”

                  “If anything, Miss Aria,” His gaze flickered to the others. “A few of the company found something in you they couldn’t resist. From what I have gathered of them so far, dwarves do not kneel before anyone and offer their services. Especially a son of Durin.”  

                  “A son of Durin?” She repeated, unsure of the meaning.

                  “Oh, yes.” Bilbo nodded. “He is a prince, from what I hear. Fili and Kili both. But, I feel that is not my story to tell. Ask them yourself if you get the chance to.”

                  She gazed at him for a moment, a sinking feeling within her gut. She didn’t want to stay and knew she couldn’t. But, the warmth of the Hobbit and his ability to make light of her darkened situation had her second guessing her choice to stay. She’d angered their leader, but out of that, she’d gained admiration from his nephew. Fortunately for her, Fili seemed to be royalty. The thought alone left her slightly bewildered, but if she remained upon it she knew she’d feel the anxiety well within her once again.

                  “I guess I am not so well versed in anything, at the moment. So,” She blinked, moistening her lips. “You’re information is quite handy.”

                  “It’s from experience.” He glanced at her, “They arrived at my home, offered their services, and then they trashed my kitchen. None of them kneeled. Consider yourself lucky to have a few do so.”

                  “Oi, we cleaned the plates,” Bofur offered as he strode up to the conversing pair. “We didn’t leave the entire thing in shambles, Mister Baggins.”

                  “That matters not,” Bilbo fussed. “It took me years to stock that pantry.”

                  “What are you doing over here, Bofur?” Aria asked.

                  Bofur slid down next to the girl on the unoccupied side. She glanced at him, eyes narrowed in confusion. He shrugged, a flippant expression within his eyes. “Well, since I offered my services to the lass, I figured I would start now.”

                  “Aria, Bofur.” She encouraged again. “It’s Aria.”

                  He nodded. “Miss Aria, I will be next to you while you sleep. Nothing can get through me.”

                  “Yes, because you weight as much as the ponies did,” Bilbo whispered. “I’d be more afraid that he would be the issue. His snoring is enough to drive anything away.”

                  Aria chuckled, her exhaustion beginning to take hold. Yawning, she inhaled the scent of the cave and pipe smoke. The others were beginning to do the same, using cloaks or sack like objects to curl within. In a matter of seconds, most were asleep. The steady timbre of snores radiated through cave, lulling Aria to close her eyes and rest her head against the cave wall. She was aware of Bofur’s warmth next to her, and surprisingly, felt the Hobbit’s as well.

                  “Bilbo,” Aria’s voice felt distant. “What two questions can you answer?”

                  Bilbo chuckled. “I can answer where we were and who we are.”

                  “Okay,” She mumbled. “Where am I, and who are you all?”

                  He remained silent, her eyes blinking open to gaze at him. She attempted to gauge his thoughts, the wheels turning within his mind. He puffed with content upon his pipe. She felt a slight twinge of anxiety awaiting his answers, but knew him to be only jesting.

                  “Well,” He began. “If you wish to know, we are currently in the Misty Mountains, south of the Mountains of Angmar. Does that help?”

                  She shrugged. “Slightly. But, there has to be a name for the entire area.”

                  Bofur chuckled. “Master Baggins, the lass isn’t from here. She doesn’t even know where here is.”

                  “Quite right,” Bilbo nodded. “Well, if by here you mean all of here, then I would say you are in Middle Earth. As for whom we are,”

                  “You’re in the company of Thorin Oakenshield, King of Erabor. King Under the Mountain.” Bofur stated, a sparkle within his eye. “And we are going back there to claim what is rightfully ours.”

                  She knew the tale well. She didn’t have to think as to who Thorin truly was. Asking the question would cover the knowledge she’d already gained and the suspicions that would arise lest someone found out. Also, by asking such a thing, it seemed to oddly solidify what she’d thought were only stories. Hearing Bofur and Bilbo state who they were and where they were seemed to lock into place the very thing she was afraid of.  

                  If she were correct, her life felt as if it had shifted. She couldn’t stay in Middle Earth. She had to get home. However, she didn’t feel as if that were the full truth. A part of her, deep down in the darkest and most unreachable portions, began bubbling to the surface. It told her of a place she’d only known in her dreams, a reoccurring one from the very beginning of time.

                  The sensation was a voice, a tiny one. And it let her know she had been wrong. It proved itself right, informing her that the tale of the odd band of thirteen dwarves, one hobbit, and a flighty wizard her grandmother had told her seemed to be true. She couldn’t accept it, even though a part of her wanted to. No, it needed to. Because, the voice informed her that where she was and who she was with were all a part of her intended destiny. They were a piece of her whether she liked it or not.

                  Eventually, the severe fatigue gained ground and she fell into slumber. She faintly remembered softness beneath her cheek before she completely gave in to the darkness. The pipe smoke and scent of leather swirled around her, the crackling of the fire reminding her of how far she’d fallen from home.  

                  Aria Jackson was not in Oklahoma anymore.

Chapter Text

Down, Down, To Goblin Town

“Now goblins are cruel, wicked, and bad-hearted. They make no beautiful things, but they make many clever ones.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit, or There and Back Again

She ventured through the corridor once again, the stone beneath her fingers as she trailed them along the wall. The torches led the way, a path she’d known since before she could remember. Deep energy surrounded her; more ancient than the rock she traversed upon. The power fluttered through her, her heart thrumming within.

Beyond, she could feel the immensity of the ocean of gold. It was a trickle of a sensation; one she understood little about. Yet, it was dangerous and deadly. The very reason why beings would fall to madness. She had no name for it, only that it was a tiny feeling to her but could be immense to another. However, it didn’t cause fear to stir within her. The lack of it felt unnerving, but she continued onward.

 A great entryway yawned wide ahead, the arching ceilings and great carved pillars rising above her as she stepped out upon a carved stone walkway. Her breath hitched at the sight, heart halting within her chest. Massive dips and waves of treasure flowed around each stone column like a fence post in a flood. No matter how many times she stood before the marvel, it never ceased to impress her or take her breath away.

She traversed the stone path, the surface cold against the soles of her feet. Great torches blazed with giant fires to lead her way. It was as if they’d been prepared beforehand, awaiting her arrival. She wasn’t sure if the thought were correct or not, but the sensation stood as tall and as unmoving as the carved rock around her. It whispered of her homecoming, a thought she’d only figured to be a trick of her imagination. Surely this place was no home to her. She’d never seen it before.

The stairs she’d trekked down so many times before, led into the nether. Gold enveloped the carved rock, resting upon each smooth, flat surface. The piles were so large, the true measurements of them unfathomable. She figured it would stretch deeper than what the soft metal allowed.

Her feet halted at the edge between stone and gold, hovering before the border as if awaiting encouragement or an invitation. Even though she knew none would come, she could sense something deep within the blanket of gold. She could feel the aura of power and malic and her skin crawled with a sensation she hadn’t felt before.

“Hello, Little Mouse.” A deep baritone she knew rumbled deep within the confines of treasure. “I know you are there. I can feel your air and hear the thundering of your heart.”

She blinked, shock leaving her dumbfounded. The voice echoed powerfully through the hall, sending vibrations down her spine. A lance of something strung taught like a string caused her to wince, a warmth upon her chest enveloping her body. She glanced down, noticing the scale pendent beginning to gleam with a light all its own.

“Speak, Little Moue,” The voice demanded quietly as if it, too, were unable to process the situation. “I can smell the fear upon you. What are you doing here?”  

She refused to speak, clutching the pendant to douse the light with her hand. However, deep within, she knew she needed to answer. A screaming within her core demanded it of her. She had to refuse, she had to stay quiet. The being speaking to her, ordering her to give away her presence, was not friendly.

But it wasn’t entirely evil, either.

This confused her. The being was lost and completely perplexed itself. Its purpose had been discarded long ago after its birth, greed and pride winning over its complex heart. It longed for something beyond the walls it resided in, something to save it from itself. Perhaps she could help it in a way no other could? But that thought alone seemed preposterous.  

The world seemed to shift before her. She braced herself, wondering if the cavern would topple on her and douse her light. But, in an instant, giant orange orbs emerged from the treasure.  Bits of gold crashed down into the endless heaps below as a giant figure rose from the endless sea. She saw herself reflected within the massive spheres, her crimson hair gleaming in the flickering light of the torches. With wild eyed fear, she blinked into the depths of the cleaved iris, the dark feline pupil regarding her with its own puzzlement.

“Found you,” It purred.

****

                Aria jerked awake, the dream and the voice still lingering within her mind like a nasty smell. She’d not remembered the avid detail of the surreal world before, knowing the experience to be a first for her. If she were correct, the being she usually encountered had finally found her when she’d not expected it. For some reason, however, she wasn’t fearful. The reality of the situation felt as real as the vibrations she felt through her skin.

Aria came to immediate consciousness but refrained from opening her eyes. Instead, she froze against the cave wall as its cold stone bit into her skin. She didn’t want anyone to know she’d awakened, her hopeful heart pining to hear whatever had brought her from her dream in the first place.

Straining as best she could, she listened intently. Soft, almost inaudible noises quietly tumbled through the cave. It was then she also noticed how she no longer leant against the slightly soft shoulder of a dwarf. Instead, as she recalled from earlier, the cold stone of the cave wall nipped into her spine. She scented the musk of leather and sweat wafting through her nostrils to indicate a pack she’d been deposited upon.

Tension tumbled in waves along her skin, the voices growing heated. Their hushed tones did little to quell the spurring confusion and utter betrayal being administered through the octaves. If she were a guessing woman, which sometimes she was, Aria would believe the two subjects were arguing.

Despite her willingness to remain undetected, she peeped through one eye to spy upon the event taking place no too far from where she rested.

                “What do you think you’re doing?” Bofur’s voice echoed harsh uncertainty. The distress within his voice was not modestly given.  

                “I’m going back to Rivendell,” Bilbo’s voice stated firmly.

                Rivendell? Hadn’t her grandmother mentioned a similar name in her story? Hadn’t she described it as a beautiful city amongst waterfalls and moonlight? Yet, Aria had not seen it and she couldn’t help but feel a small sting of disappointment at the lack of viewing its grandeur.  Perhaps, she’d arrived well past those times.

                From what the girl could see, the Hobbit had dressed himself up for travel. Bilbo stood with his back to the cave mouth, burgundy coat over the vest he’d worn earlier. A simple pack smaller than hers snuggly hugged his back, straps cinched tightly to his shoulders. He gripped one, the other hand occupied with a humble walking stick. His expression held one of deep sadness and regret, not unlike a dog that had been kicked. She felt her heart pang painfully again.

                Was he honestly leaving the company? Somehow, Aria felt a rush of disappointment and depression swoop through her like a rush of cold rain water. She’d barely known the creature for a few hours, but she felt as if she’d known him her entire life. In a manner of speaking, perhaps she did. Her grandmother’s story had woven a depiction of him throughout her childhood, but to see him in the flesh held another meaning all together.

                If Bilbo left, it would alter the story. A story she’d heard since the beginning of her time. It was much, much older than she and quite possibly known by many others. Her grandmother almost lived and breathed it as if it were part of her own history as well. Aria knew most of the story like the back of her hand even though, at one time, she could have cared less for the characters.

                Now, facing the actual company in the flesh, she was given a choice. Stopping there would only mean another life altering change. She could allow it to by standing aside, but she knew better. Seeing as how the Hobbit had been the first to show her kindness, she led herself to believe that a personal matter could also play into effect.

So, Aria Jackson chose. Lifting herself from the pack quietly, she rose to her feet shakily and stalked toward them. Bofur’s back faced the oncoming girl, his floppy had having yet to be discarded. His legs spread wide at the base, highlighting his uneasy and defensive stance. Shaking the last slivers of sleep from her head, Aria sidled up to the dwarf’s side and pinned Bilbo down with a gaze. His expression softened as their eyes met, but she could still feel his stubbornness to forfeit just as solid as the rock beneath her feet.  

                “Bilbo,” Aria’s voice cracked. “Where are you going?”

                “Back to Rivendell, Miss Aria. You should think about coming, too. Perhaps Elrond can help get you back home.”

                Bofur gave the girl a sidelong glance, “No, you can’t turn back now. You’re part of the company.”

                Bilbo shook his curly locks vigorously. Anger flashed across his warm eyes,

                She remembered Thorin’s reaction to the Hobbit, read the writing of his figure as it refrained from throwing her out into the rain. She hoped the entire ordeal was not her fault, wondering if the dwarf king held any grudge against the Hobbit or her. If he did, she didn’t blame Bilbo for leaving. Perhaps, he felt himself to be the cause of the ruckus.

                He was not.

                “Bilbo,” Aria stood shakily, every muscle fiber within screaming. “I am the one who doesn’t belong here. I should be the one to leave. Not you.”

                “I disagree with you both.” Bofur whispered, his voice earnest and honesty written within the depths of his eyes. “Bilbo, you signed the contract. The lass needs help, and you seem to know how to do such a thing. You can’t leave. You’re part of us.”

                Bilbo sighed, glancing at the girl with as sad smile. “I am now, am I? Thorin said I should have never come, and he was right.”

                “Bilbo…” Aria breathed.

                “I’m not a Took,” He continued. “I’m a Baggins. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

                Aria stepped forward, reaching for him. “I have no idea what that means. But, Bilbo, you can’t say that. You are needed more than you think.”

                She was referring to the story, but they didn’t need to know that. She remembered how important the Halfling would become to them in the story. He was swift and nimble and most creatures had no idea what he actually was, so their confusion acted as a deterrent.  If she remembered correctly, her grandmother stated in the story that the Hobbit became particularly crucial to finding an artifact that would later become a kick starter for yet another journey.

Bilbo leaned into her hand as it rested upon his shoulder. “I should have never run out my door.”

                Bofur, smiling desperately, stepped forward as well. “You’re homesick. I understand.”

                Bilbo snorted harshly, wrenching himself from Aria’s hand. “No, you don’t understand. None of you do, except you Aria. She’s lost her home, perhaps. We all know she is not from here.”

                The words were not meant to be harsh, and Aria couldn’t help but nod. She hadn’t had the chance to feel homesick yet, but she knew the gravity of it would fall upon her soon. She’d knew she wouldn’t stay long with them, she couldn’t. Even though her soul said otherwise, she would force herself to go home. She had a mission, had planned it for months. It would all fall if she didn’t follow through.

                “You are dwarves,” Bilbo continued, inclining his head toward Bofur. “You’re used to this life. To living on the road, never settling in one place. Not belonging anywhere.”

                His voice cut through the silence like a sword through butter. Bofur winced, the damage clearly done. Aria felt the spear as if it had been directed at her, knowing full well it wasn’t. Still, she couldn’t help but want to understand why Bilbo chose to lash out. He was a warm, humble Hobbit and one she couldn’t ever see throwing violent words at those he’d chose to remain in the company of.

                But, she also didn’t doubt the words Thorin had supposedly spoken to him. If his narrowed, harsh blues shooting daggers her way had been in inclination of his loathing, she also read the stiff features and annoyance written in the syllables he spoke. There were various things that gave the dwarf’s true intentions away. For some reason, Thorin did not fancy Bilbo, and it was beyond her.

                His words still hung sharply like knives suspended from the rock ceiling. She could almost hear the singing of the blades and it caused her heart to beat painfully. She needed to alleviate the tension in the situation. Something inside her needed to make it better, the entire fate the company and the hobbit shared hanging by a single thread. If she could tip it in the favor of the path the story had indicated, it would save them all.

                “Bilbo,” She gripped his shoulder again. “You…”

                 “You’re right.” Bofur chuckled. The girl and the Hobbit glanced at the dwarf in unison, shock riddling their features. Narrowing her gaze at him, she regarded Bofur’s painful expression. His warm eyes held unshed tears. “We don’t belong anywhere,” Bofur continued.

His words were a dagger to the heart. If anything, Aria should know the emotions dripping from every syllable. Back on Earth, she didn’t belong anywhere either. With every home, she found pain or loneliness. No one knew her as they should, or the kind of person she truly was. Somewhere in the midst of the depression and isolation, she’d lost a little of herself as well and knew most of it would never return.

                To not belong to anyone or anything bred a heart full of solitude and anger. She recalled the dreams she’d had, the long corridor made of stone, and the orange orbs cleaved in two by a feline pupil of black. Gazing deep within the eye, she understood the thing to feel isolated as well. Its purpose no longer belonged to its future, a promise long forgotten. It had lost something and, in turn, had lost itself.

                The dwarves were the same, if she remembered the characters within her grandmother’s story. They were from the Blue Mountains, but not originally. Their land, their home, was in charred shambles of broken rock and rot. The culprit was a fire drake from the North that had pillaged their home and left them to die. No one had come to their aid, leaving them to scramble and rebuild themselves later in life.

                The dwarves were nomads, now. They were far from their homeland and as isolated as she was. She, too, understood being uprooted. But, she also understood her mission was not to be given up lightly. She felt the overwhelming need to belong, years of isolating herself having worn down the urge slightly. It didn’t alter her deep desire for companionship, but she knew that in the future and in that search for belonging, she would find herself.

                 Bilbo straitened, adjusting his pack nervously.

                Bofur strode forward, placing a hand upon the Hobbits other shoulder. “I wish you all the luck in the world. I really do.”

                Everything was flashing red flags before her eyes. She couldn’t let the Hobbit leave and, for some reason, she couldn’t go with him if he chose to. Everything seemed to weigh upon that moment. If one moment happened that differed from the story, the whole entire company would be affected. Of course, now that she’d been involved even just a smidge, she would be affected as well.  

                Aria’s lip parted, making to speak her mind a little, when her eyes caught something curious gleaming from beneath his coat. The burgundy fabric sheathed over half of it from view, the dying firelight not the cause of the incessant glowing that seemed to peep from beneath the tweed of Bilbo’s travel cloak. Instead, Aria was aware that the gleam itself came from within. She blinked against it.

                “Bilbo, what is that?” she asked.

                Bilbo glanced down at his hip, pushing back the tail of his coat to reveal an ornately constructed scabbard beneath. Unreadable ruins were gilded in gold and silver upon the leather, a dark wood hilt peeping from the very top. Silver leaves snaked the entirety of it. But, it was perhaps the blade she found most curious.

                Bilbo’s gaze widened in pure horror as he drew the small sword, the sing ringing through the cave. As if it were coated with some bioluminescence, the object emitted the most vibrant of blue illuminations. Among the dark shadows clinging to each rock, it blinded the trio as they gazed upon it. Two pairs of eyes lit upon it in horror, while the other pair’s read intrigue.

                And just as his sword began to radiate its azure light, her chest began to heat, as well. The other two glanced upward, regarding her own illumination the same as they had Bilbo’s sword. She reached inside, grasping at the scale and bringing it into the shadow of the cave.

                Something is coming, rang a voice within her head.

                Suddenly, Aria felt a strike in her gut. It was the most horrible of sensations, the most terrifying of revelations. Deep within her core, she felt fear raise its ugly head to pierce the stoic demeanor she’d attempted to keep so well fortified. The blue light radiating from the sword was nothing short of a horrid sign. An omen, if she were a guessing woman.

                A deep groan alerted the trio, as well as the rest, to the floor beneath their feet. Vibrations sent shivers of fear through Aria, her blood freezing. However, as much as she’d attempted to recall her grandmother’s story, she could not remember any part akin to this.

                Something rumbled, like ancient gears in an old tower clock. One by one, the dwarves of the company began to stir from sleep. Their gazes fell upon the trio, listening lazily to the inhuman groaning taking place around them. She blinked at them and their confused faces. Something was happening beneath them, but it was not jovial or friendly. Deep within, Aria’s soul wailed to them. They needed to move. They needed to run. She didn’t know their fate, but she knew she needed to do something. 

                “Everyone,” She cried through the cave. “Everyone, get up. Now! Something is coming.”

                “Wake up!” Thorin’s timbre boomed against the rocks. He scrambled from his bedding, barking at the others while they, too, struggled to gain consciousness and leverage to stand. “Wake up!”

                All around, the cranking transformed into a roar. The earth at their feet cleaved, the soil and dirt cascading into an unknown abyss below. Echoes arose from the darkness, rocks shattering upon walls they couldn’t see. An evil orange glow clawed its way into the cave, shrieking much fiercer than anything Aria had ever heard, splitting her head in two.

                The fear she felt was akin to nothing she’d ever held before. It was feral and evil, pounding against the recesses of her mind like a hammer upon an anvil. It was painful, white hot slices of agony penetrating the veil of her stoic demeanor. She was impaled by its wrath, left frozen in its wake too harhly to do much of anything other than gaze at the cleaving floor beneath and pray it would not end her.

                Then, in the blink of an eye, they were falling. The rush of air roared in the girl’s ears as she fell weightlessly down into a dark abyss. Nasty warmth snaked its way through her body as she landed upon something rough and solid with a loud crunch. Pain split through her backside, but she had no time to scream.  The solidity beneath her became slick and, before she knew it, they were slipping down treacherous slides made of worn stone. The tunnel whirled and weaved like the innards of a snake, the orange light casting itself in the most precarious of spaces.

                The fear that had nibbled so harshly upon her before now roared to life, bursting through her as one would feel the burst of winter air. She didn’t scream, however. The shouts of the others seemed to drown any means of vocalizing her horror. But, as the tunnel continued to wind and twist, she felt the heat upon her chest become akin to a skillet. It flopped against her sweatshirt, the strings wiggling in the rush of air as they descended. Her heart thudded painfully in her ears from its place in her throat.

                Finally, an opening yawned wide before them and they were falling again. Presented again without a chance to scream, she braced herself as another solid surface rushed to greet them. The creak of wood under their bodies echoed through a vastly different atmosphere. Aria landed roughly upon her backside, feeling the split of pain agonizingly rush through her spine once more. She grit her teeth, however, as the others yelled at the sudden halt to their journey.

                All around her rose the fearful shouts of the company. Bilbo had landed beside her, his coat tails around his head and sword out to defend himself. Bombur landed atop him in a rush of red hair and beard as the girl knelt the best she could to avoid having the same done to her. Bells rang through where everything they’d landed like a type of alarm. It echoed from walls she couldn’t see, striking the already deepening sense of fear.

                A distinct intuition washed through her like a cold bath, something she’d never felt until that moment. She was up in an instant; her wild gaze scanning the area as the last of the group tumbled from the tunnel. Around them, they wiggled in a makeshift catch pen. She dared not let her eyes delve below, a darkness stretching immensely beyond her sight while walls bathed in sickening firelight opened around her shivering form.

                They had fallen into another cavern. Something nasty and dark doused the walls with its poison, a thick layer of it already threatening to slather itself upon her skin. Aria gathered what she could of the environment before her attentions were brought elsewhere suddenly. Shrieks wracked the cavern around them as various dark, barking creatures rolled before them. The opening to the catch cage gave way to a stone path, a rickety wooden bridge heaving as the creatures scrambled forward.

                Their roars echoed across the great cavern. She pushed her way toward the entrance, attempting to gather a better look at what forged ahead. Her feet moved of their own accord. Before she knew it, she gazed at their figures head on. They were nothing but small forms in the distance, the wooden bridges stretching onward beyond her eye line. She felt her heart plummet in her chest, the fear of what was to come beginning to paralyze her.  

                Yet, the creatures kept on. Their pale bodies glowed in the flames cast by the torches affixed to the walls. She could hear them gurgling and hissing. They were smaller, a size not unlike the Hobbit, horrid faces riddled with various malformations and skin lesions. Their bulging, slightly clouded eyes were twisted with malicious intent.  Harelips and incongruous noses caused Aria to internally wince, her hand gripping the edge of the catch cage until her knuckles were white.

                She recalled, finally, the name her grandmother had called them in her story. The beasts boiling forward down the rickety bridge were nothing short of horrible and she remembered the very way her grandmother had described them. Their faces cast in boils and growths, rotting teeth chattering as they shrieked and barked at the new prey within their traps. Their hunched spines and ivory skin wrinkled from the lack of sun.

                They were goblins.

                “Aria,” Bilbo called. “Get down!”

                In the blink of an eye, they were upon the company. Writhing bodies and the scent of rot engulfed her as she was slowly trudged upon by many pairs of dirty feet. The bile rose in her throat, but she held it down. The hissing and wails of the goblins split her skull in two as she tried to fend them off.

Aria was flabbergasted at herself briefly. As the tiny beasts violently attempted to acquire their bounty, she found herself rising to meet them. She wasn’t sure where the sudden influx of energy came, nor was she certain about the source of her willingness to fight. But, she’d believed she knew what it was once before in a small, country home in Oklahoma where she’d found it. Creeping down hallways at night during an escape held no candle to the sudden mythical monsters that were upon them. But, she knew courage like an old friend because she’d had to use it many times before. This instinct suddenly fell into place, something grasping her heart and throwing any ounce of fear aside. She felt stronger, braver.

                She needed to help save them for she knew nothing good was to come of this encounter.

                “What are you doing, lass?” Balin cried from behind.

                “What does it look like?” She threw over her shoulder, just as another goblin lit upon her to sink its fangs in the fleshy portion of her upper arm. She roared, throwing the being across the edge and down into the depths below, its wails fading as it descended. “Find your weapons, you idiots.”

                However, her order fell as fast as it had been issued. Many more goblins threw themselves forward, knocking her from her position. Her knees slammed into the rough stone underneath their feet and they crawled and clawed their way over her spine to the others. Blood oozed from her wounds, but she felt nothing as she attempted to stand.

                Something akin to fingers wrapped around the hood of her sweatshirt and shielded her eyes from viewing the chaos. She was wrenched from the catch pen, her rear and legs sliding through the dirt strewn floor of the path. She fought, flailing wildly like a bird in a cage. Forcefully, she was thrown to the side, the breath pushed from her lungs at the impact. She blinked back the pain, the breath that had left keeping her from screaming as she viewed the abyss before her. But, before she could gain any clarity of the situation, the rocks around her began to loosen, her legs slipping from their scarce purchase of the stone. Grappling as best she could, Aria’s fingers finally secured themselves upon the rough surface, the air cold upon her dangling legs as they swayed above the dark abyss. Her heart thundered, threatening to burst from her chest and leave her to her fate.

                Scrambling back onto the flat stone, she stepped forward on tremoring legs toward the pen. She’d been drug at least a dozen feet from them, the beasts milling through the dwarves and pushing them forward into a line. She spotted Bilbo among them, but immediately lost him as the goblins continued their gathering. The companies cries of shock and disgust rang through the cavern, echoed into her heart to painfully drive a stake there.

                She made to run forward, meant to leap over the rock and stone to reach them but she halted. Her eyes found Thorin, his crisp blues meeting hers. She felt the weight of his gaze upon her skin, felt the consequences if she’d do what she wished to. But, she couldn’t deny the warning that was written within those eyes, urging her to flee for herself. But, she couldn’t. Something kept her there, just as it kept her feet rooted upon the stone. She felt the need to fly far away as great as one would feel the biting cold during winter. Instead of giving into its pull, she clenched her teeth against it and pushed forward to the company. Just as soon as she was near, however, they were swept away and gone within a matter of moment. She watched as they were rushed across the rotting bridge, Thorin’s gaze fading down tunnels and away from sight. She could hear their calls dissipate as well, the shadows dancing upon the roughly carved stone caves.

                Her feet moved of their own accord, rushing toward the path they’d been forced to travel. A nasty quiet followed the company’s abduction, the fear she’d all temporarily dashed away returning with full-fledged force.

                She wanted to scream. She wanted to roar in agony and horror, to cry and wail for the loss of the company. For her very sanity that seemed to have been ripped away in the blink of an eye. She wished nothing her grandmother had told her to be true. The story, she wished she’d never heard it. Her knees flared in pain as she crashed down upon them, fists gripping the air as anger flared to meet the horrified sensations crashing into her mind.

                But, they hadn’t noticed her standing there. They hadn’t returned with their nasty, stinking numbers to nab and grab her. For what reasons, she was unsure. All she knew was the building anger and anxiety began to tighten its fingers around her heart, causing it to pound painfully within her chest. Everything ached, but the worst pain was the realization that she could have saved the company if she’d not paused.

                “Miss Aria,” a voice whispered from behind her. She stiffened, turning to see the source.

                Not five feet behind her, toward the mouth of the catch pen, knelt Bilbo. He huddled close to the stone, elbows flat against it and back facing the ceiling. Bats fluttered around them, their echoing calls reminding her of the thick silence as his widened eyes blinked back the horrors of what he’d seen.  

                In an instant, her anger fell away in pieces at the sight of her friend. She couldn’t deny the relief flooding her, dashing her building stress, just short of wiping it away completely. It dashed away just enough to free her rigid limbs. In an instant, she rose swiftly and rushed to his side. Dirt smeared his face, the glowing sword gleaming from its within his fingers. Lowering herself, she assessed any sort of damage to him but found none.

                “Bilbo,” She exclaimed breathlessly. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

                He sat up, brushing himself off. “I think I’m alright. Are you hurt?”

                She shrugged, feeling her shoulder and knees throbbing. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

                They stood in unison, turning toward the path the others had been dragged down. More bats flapped their wings beyond their line of sight, shrieking horribly into the darkness. Other things echoed across the cavern, the immensity of each sound heightened ten-fold. She scanned the area around them, seeing nothing moving amongst the shadows.

“What do we do now?” Bilbo asked, drawing the sword toward his torso.

“I’m not sure,” She replied. “But I feel we need to follow them. They could be in trouble.”

“They are goblins,” He scoffed. “Of course, they are in trouble. If we plan on saving them, we must get to them fast. We are hardly even prepared.”

“Did our things make it?” She glanced at him hopefully.

He shook his head. “I’m not sure, Miss Aria. I don’t think so.”

She deflated, knowing full well that she was without anything she’d gathered for her trip on Earth. Disappointment mingled with the other emotions coiling through her, the feeling of being lost closely following. She tried to stamp them down; figuring panic would join as well. For what little sanity she clasped onto, she needn’t lose it too quickly. She needed to remain calm and think.

Bilbo strode forward with his sword thrust before him, her eyes widening at his sudden courage. He halted, glancing back at her with an expectant look. “Come on, follow me. We can’t wait any longer.”

She nodded; thankful he was by her side. For whatever reason, Aria knew she was only just beginning her sudden and very unjustified adventure.

Chapter Text

To Become Stronger Than Before

 “You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit, or There and Back Again

                “I’m afraid I’m poorly armed, Bilbo.” Aria sated as the Hobbit gestured to follow him.

                “Well, perhaps,” He shrugged, turning toward their intended path, “If we can sneak in amongst them, we can find their weapons and use them.”

                “The question is,” Aria huffed. “Are we going to be able to sneak into wherever they are?”

                Bilbo paused, eyes rising to the ceiling above their heads. It was a surprise the both of them how calmly they took the shock of the previous events. She felt herself attempting to fold, but the presence of the Hobbit aided in keeping her mind from flaying like a filleted fish. Focusing on the task at hand helped her mind, as well. Keeping their mission toward the forefront disposed of any doubt.

                Except, of course, how to actually rescue the subjects they needed to rescue.

                “Drat. You may be right,” Bilbo stated, scratching his chin. “We have to come up with a way to get in there without drawing attention to ourselves.”

                There were many options but Aria found herself blank on how to proceed. She’d never fought goblins, let alone planned a mission to rescue thirteen dwarves from their clutches. Sure, she watched movies where heroes enacted the bravest of deeds to save a princess or their comrades. The plots were brilliant, but the main actor couldn’t die. They were too crucial for the role.

                This situation was much different than a movie plot. There were actual enemies and death clung against every stone to remind her that her end could fall upon her any time. Aria was no hero. Perhaps, Bilbo was the hero of their story, but she didn’t belong. As an interloper, she couldn’t tell whether her ideas or intention were good. She could only do as she felt was right. Despite her wish to find a way back to Oklahoma and stay there, she couldn’t fight the feeling that it wasn’t right to leave. If anything, her grandmother’s story wouldn’t play out as it should if the dwarves were to die. Aria paid no attention to this section of the story, the scary goblins rendered by her grandmother giving the little girl nightmares. So, she’d tuned most of it out.

                Now, when she needed it most, she was unsure of the outcome. She knew it was not to be good, but what was the actual fate awaiting the dwarves?

                Knowing nothing only spurred her rising need to help them. If she only knew the outcome, she could determine her course of action. But, she didn’t. Because of this, she could only rely on the Hobbit for support and the idea that she was not returning home any time soon.

                A thought occurred to her. A thought so idiotic, but vastly important, that it broke her of her brooding thoughts. She’d read about similar plans, how there couldn’t be any other choice. It struck her with fear as deep as the abysmal void beneath them. Yet, she couldn’t think of any other way.

                “What if one of us posed as bait to draw them off?” She thought aloud.

                Bilbo paused, stiffening. She knew how it sounded. She knew how ridiculous the idea truly was. Yet, as she’d pondered upon the deed, she couldn’t help but find herself agreeing with it. Sure, the entire thing meant possible injury. The Goblins seemed to be nasty, hurtful creatures and she didn’t doubt their viciousness. Still, the more they lingered, they more the dwarves would fall victim to them.

                “I don’t know how I feel about that.” Bilbo affirmed. “It seems very dangerous.”

                She nodded. “Yeah, I agree. But what options do we have?”

                Bilbo pondered, his eyes roving the ceiling again. “Not very many, to be honest.”

                “Well,” Aria stated. “At least we have each other for now.”

                “That is very true.” He nodded, glancing at her with a faint smile.

                “Just promise not to go where I can’t follow,” Aria snorted. “I’m not as little as you are. I can’t fit into tight spaces.”

                The Hobbit chortled in hushed tones, shaking his head. “I promise, Miss Aria.”

                “There you go again with the ‘Miss’ thing.” Aria mumbled. “You make me feel old.”

                The Hobbit only laughed quietly to himself, his eyes roaming the cavern before them. Aria did the same. Despite the light banter between the two, she couldn’t shake the heaviness of her heart. The adrenaline she’d felt earlier began to wane; the courage she’d held previously all but dispelling into the fear that had already been there. But, she squared her shoulders to it and pushed it down as best she could. She’d been faced with horror before. Every time her foster father grew angry at something she’d done; she would know fear as one would never know it. She’d learned to accept it, think through the clouding of her mind and focus on a way out.

                This time, however, other lives were at stake. There were more beings involved that needed saving other than her own. It would take some getting used to, but she’d never been one to focus solely upon herself. Given her past, it was all she had, though. No one had ever come to her aid while dealing with her horrid foster family.

But, the girl was resilient. Because of this tough armor, she raised her chin and greased the gears of her persistence. This extra bit of courage coursed through her veins, allowing her mind to clarify itself and a plan to form even sharper. She would offer herself as bait just enough for Bilbo to slip in and inform the dwarves of their plan. Of course, they would have to fight, and Aria was not skilled in that category.

                But, if fighting meant staying alive, she would try her best to do so.

                With a nod, she filled Bilbo in on her idea. The plan molded and took shape, the Hobbit agreeing with what he could and asking for clarification on others. Eventually, a few minutes passed and they made for the bridge. It swayed in an unseen breeze before them, Aria’s anxiety nipping at every limb of her body. She inhaled the stale scent of stagnant sewer water, dirt, and other things she couldn’t identify in an attempt to flush the unease from her mind. She focused on the task ahead.

                “This way,” Bilbo whispered as he headed in the direction of the rickety bridge.

                Aria nodded, following suit. She was unsure of the quality of the suspended crossing, worn boards having seen better days before. However, it had held more than a dozen goblins and dwarves. She’d suspected if it wished to crumble and fall, it would have already. It still didn’t quell the anxious sensation that nibbled at her feet. She wasn’t a fan of heights and she was no fan of the dark abyss below.

                But, Bilbo pressed on. He showed little sign of being fearful, but she knew he felt it. How couldn’t he? The atmosphere surrounding them loomed with shadow and darkness, the orange torchlight dancing just enough to allow for some light to penetrate. She needed to follow his lead, both externally and internally. If she didn’t, she would likely fall to her death or allow the dwarves to die. If she didn’t allow the darkness inside, she would become confident and her ability to press forward would become even stronger than she’d imagine.

Bilbo’s sword gleamed azure against the old wood of the bridge, the rope supports and railing frayed with age and use. She whimpered internally, every nerve ending firing like fireworks within her. She wanted to run, to scream until her lungs no longer held air. But, she followed, attempting to ignore the creaks of the old boards under her shoes.

She placed one step in front of the other and then two steps and then three. They held her weight as they did the Hobbit. Her heart hammered in her chest, thumping loudly in her temples as she attempted to even her breathing. Fingers closed white knuckled over the rough rope of the railing, her grip tightening to reduce the tremors.

Eventually, they arrived securely on the other side. Stone met her shoes and she wished to kiss the ground but thought against it at the sight of dirt and who knew what else at her feet. Bilbo turned to her, nodding. They had made it. For a few, horrible moments, they’d crossed over a chasm she couldn’t fathom and had landed safely to the other side. Aria let loose the breath she’d held, before regarding the trail ahead.

Her heart sank.

Another bridge stretched before them. Beyond that, even more bridges. The path ahead stretched farther than she could divulge, leading to an unknown destination. Where the goblins had taken the dwarves, she presumed. The duo would be in for a longer journey than she’d pictured. If she were being honest, she wasn’t ready.

In any other situation, she would have turned and bolted. She couldn’t deny that she wanted to multiple times. She’d never been thrown amidst dwarves, rolled down into a goblin cave, nor had she ever attempted a rescue. But, there she was, staring down a trail of rickety bridges and following a creature she’d only heard of in stories.

But, he was real and so was her predicament. So, with a steady inhale of the stale air around her, Aria mentally prepared herself for the worst and whatever lay ahead. The Hobbit seemed out of sorts as well, but she could only hope he had done the same. She’d seen movies and read books pertaining to dark, dank caves. There would be fighting. There would be blood. At that point, she wasn’t sure what color it would be. But, she knew she’d have to defend her life and the life of the others.

                Even though she clearly wasn’t male, it was time for her to man up.

                Bilbo indicated the need to move and Aria followed. As they did, she heard something scuffle above, the shadows providing ample cover. Aria’s gaze shifted upward, the shadows veiling everything from her sight. She was unable to detect anything, knowing if she did it would only damper her building courage.

So, she shrugged, her mind automatically filtering the noise as that of a bat. It was a cavern and the nocturnal critters listless fluttered in the shadows. It was, without a doubt, to be expected of a cave. Their noise was inevitable. She couldn’t deny how her nerves sizzled at the slightest ounce of noise, though, even if what she heard could simply be classified as just another figment of her anxiety and the situation at hand.

                However, she threw the idea from her mind just as a dark figure landed with a loud thud on the rock ahead. The firelight of the torches cast an orange glow on pale, bulbous skin as the figure turned toward them. A horrid growl slithered through the dank air, putrid smells emanating from an even nastier maw.

                A goblin.

                Aria panicked and the creature squalled, its hideous face contorted into that of rage. It rushed forward; beady eyes full to brim with malic. She couldn’t move, shock rooting her in place as the thing scrambled toward them. A rusty blade was held in its crooked fingers, aimed toward them, and ready for battle. Aria, on the other hand, was not prepared. She faltered, her steps retreating toward the bridge they had just crossed.

                With a roar akin to a squealing pig, the goblin lurched forward into the air, landing just in front of them. The duo retreated a safer distance, only to be met with its horrid eyes and sharp sword. Bilbo thrust the blue blade toward the creature as it lashed out, metal striking metal. Sparks flew from the discord, the sound echoed across the cavern as the duo repeated the same action again and again.

                Aria was surprised at the Hobbits ability to fend off their attacker. The goblin was vicious, striking at Bilbo with power and certainty. It was trained for battle, for defending. Bilbo was not. Even so, the little Hobbit kept it at bay as best he could. Aria scanned the vicinity, attempting to find her own weapon.

                Her eyes landed upon a rock just behind the assailant. Glancing once again at the battling pair, she launched herself forward toward the object. Its grit met her fingers as they wrapped around the dense stone. She lifted it, turning toward the pair. Her face paled.

                They were awfully close to the edge.

 Far too close.

                In a moment far quicker than she could react to, the goblin struck at Bilbo. The Hobbit ducked, avoiding the assault. However, with the power driving the action, the goblin had gone too far. The dirt beneath loosened, the traction beneath its feet altering its trajectory and suddenly pitching it backward. Soon, its arms flew upward in a miserable attempt to right itself, the sword flying from its fingers and into the darkness below. In the matter of moments, the creature was falling, grappling onto anything it could as if to break its descending over the edge.

                To Aria’s horror, the goblins flailing hands grasped at the fabric Bilbo’s cloak sleeve. The gravity and weight of the creature pulled hard upon the tiny Hobbit. In an instant, the Hobbit disappeared over the edge and into the gorge with a simple release of air after the shock. Aria wished to scream, and in her sudden horror, she did so. In a flash she rushed to the precipice, her heart shattering while she watched in shock as both the goblin and Hobbit descended into the dark. She heard the distinct clink of metal as the blue of his sword was swallowed by the blackness.

                Silence fell heavy upon her with sudden swiftness and her heart sank with every ounce of muteness that oozed around her. She could hear nothing as she peered into the inky blackness of the abyss. A creeping sensation of dread caressed her with icy fingers, her mind a slowed cog. It halted to a crawl by the cold of sudden shock, emotions dead like the very being she’d just lost over the edge. She could only stare into the blackness and feel the sudden sensation of loss that began to trickle inside her.

                Panic began to take hold, her body acting on its own.  She yelled into the gloom, into the horrible disquiet that fell around her like freezing raindrops. Even then, she attempted to cry for him.  Tears began to form in her eyes, blurring her vison. She couldn’t go after them. She couldn’t follow. Their promise not moments before burned like paper in her mind.

                He’d gone where she couldn’t go after him.

White hot panic shot fireworks of anxiety through her entire system, rooting her to the edge in frozen fear. Pain formed within her eyes, a pounding in her temples pulsing like her heartbeat.  She shrank away from the edge like it was made of burning magma, no longer wishing to stare into the abysmal shadows. The tears continued to fall, streaking her face and drying within minutes only to be wetted once again by a new trail.

                Her hopes shattered right then, falling down into the deep darkness like her comrade had done. The bats screeched in the distance, but she didn’t hear them. Her focus, her attention, remained upon the chasm’s edge she’d scooted so quickly from. She blinked, attempting to gain purchase on any sort of sanity she figured she had. When finding none, even more tears began to stream down her dirt caked cheeks.

                Bilbo was gone and with him, any sense of companionship she’d felt. The world her grandmother had woven for Aria in her childhood had just been a story. The land was harsh and the predicaments the company had gone through were dreadful, but Aria had been in the comfort of her grandmother’s home then. She had been warm and under the security of cozy blankets, tucked in deep and ready for dreamless sleep.

                Now, as the crippling awareness of how feral the world was began to tear away at her soul, she realized just how naïve she’d been in thinking Middle Earth to be harmless. The story had been just a story, told in the hopes of entertaining a growing mind. Never had the young girl hiding behind the safety of her fuzzy pink blanket thought such a world to exist.

                She’d been wrong. She’d been so, so wrong.

                Streams of tears fell unending from her eyes, her gaze trained on the darkening dirt wetted by the product of her sobs. She sank to the ground, her chest heaving. She wanted to vomit, to cry harder, or faint. Whatever her body wished to do to rid it of what she’d seen. She felt the need far stronger than she’d ever felt before. Instead of moving, she sat there in a dazed state riddle with horror filled shock.

                A single thought occurred to her, then. One she hadn’t allowed in thanks to the overwhelming depression that threatened to swallow her alive. She’d lost Bilbo. That was true. But, they’d given themselves a mission that needed to be seen through to the end. Even if the end was not possible, it needed to be done.

She couldn’t afford to stay upon the ground. She couldn’t afford to remain static, allowing the demons of depression to scrape away at her sanity. She had something she needed to do, she had various lives that needed saving. She needed to move. Her tears fell for him, but she’d lost the immediate point of their mission. She’d fallen from the path, their true intentions lost.

With a deep sigh, she attempted weakly to regain her composer. Her mind felt muddled, scattered and torn with horrid thoughts of what she’d seen and what was to come. The sobs still wracked her body, causing her diaphragm to heave in spurts.                She felt the streams of dried tears caking her cheeks, her eyes tired and encrusted with the remnants of her sadness.

Through the shattered pieces of her consciousness, she thought of Bilbo. She pondered upon what he would have done and immediately knew he wouldn’t have allowed her to cry. She could feel his warm hand upon her shoulder, the fear deep in his voice even though he’d tried to hide it. He would have told her to keep moving, to save the dwarves even though they had no idea what waited for them toward the end. He would claim to be a hero, and she would, too.

He would have reminded her of their mission. Aria had always been one to do what needed to be done. To finish a job that had already been started. Bilbo would have prompted her in his own way of how they needed to remain focused.

                The girl wiped her nose and eyes, lifting her chin. Her remaining tears could wait. She would cry more later if she made it out alive. For the time being, the dwarves needed rescuing. She knew little of them besides what had been told in her grandmother’s story. Their leader had little use for her and the others barely knew her. She was, in theory, far from obligated to save them.

                But, Bilbo had needed to save them. She would finish what he’d started.

                It was at that moment that Aria Jackson, a simple girl from Oklahoma, threw her fear to her feet and rose against its crippling darkness. Even though she felt every inch of it upon her skin, nibbling and biting like a poisonous bug, she shook it away. Turning toward the intended path, she inhaled the stale air once more. The shadows licked at the edges of firelight, dancing jovial and menacing. She would fight them, too, if meant saving the others.

                She lurched forward, reluctant to do so even as her feet shuffled in the dirt. She had to stand strong. She had to move ahead. Her companion was gone, but he was not forgotten and neither was the need to save the unfortunate dwarves. She would bring swift hell upon the greedy goblins if she could and deliver safety to the company. 

                It’s what Bilbo would have wanted, after all.

Chapter Text

You can yammer and yelp
But there ain't no help
Pound pound, far underground
Down, down, down in Goblin Town

-“Down, Down to Goblin Town”- J.R.R. Tolkien

The shadows writhed like snakes all around her, coiling in corners and in the black abyss below. She’d crossed so many bridges that she’d lost count ages ago. The world itself seemed to tilt, her shock seeming to press her into a state of muteness. Her mind fell blank, but she continued in a absentminded stupor. For what felt like eons, she stumbled forward into the endless caverns. She felt the eerie atmosphere closing in upon every inch of her skin, and chill air smelt rank with mold and goblin filth. She’d never nosed something so horrible. But, it was there and, soon, she’d grown blind to its scent.

Aria tried desperately not to dive into her own thoughts as she trudged on. They were gloomy and menacing, depression hanging from them like inky black slime. If she dipped even a toe within the horrid cacophony that was her mind, she’d be drawn into its terrifying embrace and never return to who she was before. In a sense, she’d already changed a bit since she’d arrived. She knew after her experience, she would never be able to un-see what had occurred right before her eyes.

 But, she needed to think through her situation. She knew as well as anyone what loss meant to her emotional state, but she also knew that allowing the mournful feelings to envelope her and bring her down would also bring her closer to her demise.

So, she chose to remain stoic and steeled herself against the bout of depression nibbling at the rear of her mind. She would not let them enter nor would she allow herself to believe they were not there. To deny them would make her weak and weakness did not help save her comrades. It sure as hell did not bring Bilbo from the darkness. She wasn’t sure how else she could move on besides trudging forward and into the throng. Bilbo was gone. It was final and there was nothing she could do to bring him back from the dead.

She hoped he wasn’t, but she didn’t feel sure of his rate of survival. A plunge like what he’d endured would have killed anyone. Aria tried not to let the waves of sadness at thought of his face or  his dissention cause her to falter her steps. She pressed on down the pathways, unsure of what led her besides the pull upon her heart. It was purely instinctual, if she were being honest, and something she wasn’t quite certain of following. But, she didn’t have much of a choice if she was to save the others. They needed someone and that someone happened to be her.

Eventually, her mind returned to her little by little the further she delved. There were many rocks and stones scattered about and Aria believed she needed some sort of weapon. If anything, she’d encounter something along the path that would require violent action. She strode through a few palm sized rocks, stooping to fetch a few before continuing on. She stowed them carefully within the front pocket of her hooded sweatshirt.

She was surprised from the lack of goblins the further she ventured. She expected many to be milling about the dirt covered pathways or skulking in the shadows just beyond her line of sight. She didn’t want to push her luck with lingering thoughts of her fortuitous situation. But, every step brought forth a thanks sent skyward toward the heavens. With every breath, she grew stronger and her confidence began to hammer down upon the writhing picture of her companions’ demise. 

                Eventually, the silence gave way to a new sound entirely and provided her with something she could follow. A din of roaring and chanting caressed the dirty halls bathed in orange firelight. They were distant and faint. She halted her steps, growing still to listen. The noise echoed from everywhere, her ears confused as to where the source derived from. Her eyes roamed the ceiling and paths. They were still free of life, the inhabitants most likely occupied with their new prisoners. Without thinking much upon it, Aria bent down and gathered a few more rocks within her trembling hands and stowed them with the others. It would do little among a rampaging horde, but the thought of something helped her nerves slightly.

                She followed the bridges further on, the cheers and roars growing in intensity. With every step, she felt her heart plummet to her feet. Warning shots fired within her nerves, fireworks of anxiety spitting like sparks from the tip of a gun. Every sense she processed became hyper aware, intensifying every whisper of bat wings and flicker of flame.

                Soon, she found her eyes deceiving her. When happening upon anything, she stiffened at the sight of writhing shadows. Wielding a rock like it was the sharpest of swords, she would step closer and ready herself for battle. But it would only turn out to be shadows and nothing at all. She relaxed then and continued her path.

                Eventually, she stumbled upon a larger bridge stretching before her. A noise akin to a horn trumpeted deeply, the source seeming to be on the other side of the crossing. The old crossing contraption swung back and forth, the ancient boards creaking as if only recently used. She blinked, a sudden rush of discovery flooding through her. They had been through this direction. She could sense it. Glancing around herself, Aria scanned the ceiling and cave walls for any sign of life. Nothing showed itself and she swallowed the nasty lump within her throat.

                She stored her rocky weapon inside her sweatshirt pocket once again, stepping foot upon the old overpass. Her fingers wrapped around the rough ropes for support, arms shaking beneath her sleeves. Stray tendrils of the material stabbed her palm, but she paid it no heed. She planned one step in front of the other, then two, then three. She evened her breathing, heart thundering against her temple. She focused on the noise ahead, its din growing louder with ever foot she placed forward.

                The other side was a gleamed like a welcome relief, her shoes kicking puffs of dust into the stale air. She straitened, retrieving the rock within her pocket and wielding it ahead of her again. In any other situation, she would have found her visage comical. But, she wasn’t sure what to expect from the shadows. So far, they’d proved void of life. However, she couldn’t be sure they would remain that way.

                A curve lay ahead of her, her pace growing slow as she gradually turned around its edge. It was sloped like the blind turn of a highway, sharply veering to the left. Unease of the same caliber she’d felt earlier nipped at her heels, pressing her forward only to be reined in because of her nerves. The noises grew even greater, a loud pounding like a giant heartbeat.  She was getting close. Her own heart thundered even more, breath fanning frantic across her dry lips. Licking them, she blinked back the bitter fear threatening to rise like bile in her throat. Her mind attempted to keep its wits about it for as long as she could, but the thought of what was to come filled her with a sense of dread she knew too well.

                In the past, she’d learned to fight it. With every shout from her foster mother, or clench of a fist followed by blinding pain induced by her foster father, she recognized dread like an old friend. But, that friend did little to comfort her and she’d done her best to push it down. Now, as she inched closer to the corner, she felt its sticky fingers begin to wrap around her heart. They were dirty, tainted by the anger she’d used to stamp it down into submission. It was hungry.

                It was ready to tear her apart.

Thumping and groaning reached her ears as she trailed up a dusty, well-trodden hill. Like the heartbeat, she felt its vibrations through the walls of the cavern enough to bump tiny pebbles. The din was at its loudest toward the precipice, Aria figuring the source to be just over its peak. She halted as she topped the hill, crouching before she continued. She ascended it with careful steps. At the point of the incline, she glanced down to absorb the new area set before her with wide eyes of awe.

                Stretched below her fell a large, torch filled cavern. Various wooden structures clung to the rock faces, roughly strung together to make platforms and footholds for their makers. Sloppily looped foot bridges extended overhead, and Aria ducked as goblins scrambled atop them. She clung to the shadows for fear of being seen, her breaths fast and rampant. However, they didn’t seem to hear her. A thunderous voice matched with others of smaller stature rang through the hall, a clear indicator as to why she’d not been noticed.

                Throughout the cavern, a rumbling echoed against the moist stone walls. Along with this, a horrible noise reached her ears. It grated across her brain, running ragged claws of discomfort down her spine like nails on a chalkboard. She wanted to cover her ears, guard herself from the terrible din. Illogically, that would have been the proper thing to do. But, logic proved to be her best friend and she refrained. She needed her senses to remain unhindered.

                Gazing down into the cavern, she felt herself blanch. If she stepped forward, her intended path would become the long swinging bridge that extended forward. It stretched toward a large platform set as squarely in the center as best as it could have been. Her eyes traced along many other paths, most of which were barren except a few who held goblin onlookers that scurried atop each other for a better view.

                She clung harder to the rock and shadows at her back, inhaling sharply with every patter of goblin feet across the overhead paths. Her gaze still remained trained upon the center of the cavern, absorbing all of what she could. It seemed the platform leaned against a large, pointed rock face for support. Along with this clung a roughly cut wooden structure representing a chair. And, to Aria’s horror, sitting atop that proved to be the most hideous of creatures she’d ever beheld. Her stomach knotted at the sight; nose wrinkled in disgust.

                But, her disgust vanished as soon as her eyes landed upon her intended targets. A small sense of relief flooded her at knowing they were unharmed. A few she could see were exhausted, shoulders drooped with defeat. Some others jerked at the sight of the ugly creature, perhaps even more attempting with all their might to resist batting violently at the prodding goblins by their sides.

 She was at their backs and much farther away than she would have intended.  Their heads were turned toward the monstrous creature as it swung its bulky appendages vigorously. A rough, wooden object akin to a crown sat atop the beast’s bald head. A waddle of skin far greater than any double chin she’d seen swung upon its bulbous belly. Warts and many other skin deformities splattered across its face. It was half naked, covered only by a thin loin cloth slung across its expanding boarders.

                She realized, with revulsion, the thing was singing. Its graveled voice rang through the hall, the other goblins joining in with gusto. From what Aria perceived, it was more of a chant than a carol. Its words rose and fell almost mockingly, some of which she couldn’t understand besides the very malicious tone it had taken.  The larger creature continued with a nasty smile, stepping upon the goblins at its feet that were much, much smaller than it. She heard the sharp crack of bones and squeals of the unlucky, wincing with every thump of the beast’s massive body. It swayed with a giant, skull capped staff, the onlookers of its party nearly bludgeoned by its massive force.

                Each word caused the company to jerk. She couldn’t see their expressions, but she didn’t need to see them to know they were horrified. Of course, she didn’t blame them. The entire scene branded itself within her mind, unwarranted and horrible. The creature finished its song and the hall grew quiet. She blinked a few times, attempting to rid her mind of the ear splitting song.

                “Catching, isn’t it?” The creature spoke with the warble of a half-drunk sailor. It turned from the dwarves to step upon the goblins groveling in front of the chair-like structure. She heard snapping and popping again, wincing. It sat upon the seat. The throne, she figured.

                Was this creature some sort of king? It made sense.

                “It’s one of my own composition.” The creatures continued.

                “That’s not a song,” Someone shouted. The white-bearded dwarf. Balin. “That’s an abomination.”

                The goblin king chuckled deeply, the sound raking across Aria’s ears. “Abominations, mutation, deviations. Its all you’re going to find down here.”

                The goblins pushed and shoved the company roughly, the dwarves shouting and cursing at the creatures. They surrounded them from all sides. They prodded and poked the dwarves, yelps of fear and shock ringing through the cavern.

                A few goblins strode forward with armloads of objects she couldn’t see. They bowed to their king, throwing the oblong things upon the wooden platform. She heard multiple clangs, signifying what they had been carrying were the dwarves’ weapons previously confiscated. The king gazed at them with red rimmed, watery eyes blown wide with madness. The dwarves never faltered or shrank away.

                Aria smirked. Of course, they wouldn’t. They were dwarves. From what she’d encountered of them so far, they wouldn’t falter in the face of a dragon. The thought caused the girl to scoff aloud. She froze, clamping her hand to her mouth quickly. The sound hadn’t been loud enough, but she wasn’t familiar with how well a goblin could hear. From their singing and jovial banter, she’d figure their audible range slim at most. But she didn’t wish to risk it.

                As if to read her mind, a stray goblin bystander above her inclined its head toward the spot in which she stood. She clung to the rocky face close to her path, breath still in her chest. She didn’t dare let loose anything for fear of being detected. The creature’s eyes probed the dark suspiciously, and she knew immediately it could see past the shadow.

                How stupid was she to figure the darkness was her friend? They were cave dwelling creatures. Their vision in the dark, perhaps, was much better than she could fathom. Yet, as she remained still under the goblin’s gaze, it failed to find her. It twitched its horrible, pointed ears, and then turned away from her.

                She almost sighed with relief but chose against it. She wasn’t going to risk having her time cut short by her inability to remain stealthy and quiet. She wasn’t in Oklahoma anymore and there were threats around every corner. Most of the threats were ahead, distracted by their new prey. It still didn’t aid her in her situation and she was more at risk than she’d perceived. She was on her own and against more goblins than she could count.

                She was bringing rocks to a moshing spear fight.

 Gazing at the back of the spectator who’d almost spotted her, she attempted to divulge a plan as the goblin king warbled on below. His voice boomed about trespassing into his kingdom. She was surprised to hear Oin, the healer, bellow at the beast. Somehow, they’d crushed the horn he used for hearing. She peered carefully at the dwarf as he demanded the king to speak louder. She could almost chuckle again at their rash actions, but held it inside. She hoped she would have time later to laugh until her sides ached.

                For now, she had to gain cover. She regarded her surroundings just as Bofur’s sultry voice rang across the hall. The king had demanded they inform him of their intentions. The dwarf with the floppy hat fumbled on his words, nervously rambling on. She could sense the fear laced within, the unease riding the air around them like mist upon the foul smelling air. She didn’t blame him. She knew she would falter in front of something so massive and grotesque.

                “We were on the road,” Bofur announced. “Well not so much a road, but a path. Actually, its not even that. It’s more like a track. Well, the point is, we were on this road like a path or a track and then we weren’t. Which is a problem because we were supposed to be in Dunland last Tuesday…”

                “Visiting distant relations,” Another dwarf, Dori, interjected nervously, nodding all too vigorously. 

                Bofur agreed, mumbling something about the relative. She could see the fumes almost spewing from the goblin king as Bofur continued, his protuberant eyes bulging even further in rage. She internally wished Bofur would stop talking, but it seemed the king’s patience had worn thin.

                “Shut up!” He roared, slamming the base of his staff upon the boards at his giant, crooked feet.

                Every goblin cowered, ducking at the fury of their king. The dwarves did not follow, their eyes trained on each movement from the massive creature. Only Bofur seemed to jerk away slightly king, and Aria could tell his mouth hung open like a cod fish. He’d been silenced and from his expression, it had been a first.

                “If they won’t talk,” The king announced to those surrounding him, a lopsided grin roving across his disciples. “Then we will make then squawk.”

                Aria felt her blood freeze. What could he mean?

                An excited hum fell across the goblin crowd. A building sense of anxiety welled within the girl’s heart. Her mind attempted in vain to dissect the words and, of course, it leaned more toward the negative. If she was a guessing woman, which seemed to be the case right then, she’d pegged the statement to be of the malicious sort. She would soon see as the excited hum morphed into a full roar as rhythmic thumping sounded across the cavern. Aria grit her teeth, jaw tightening in fear. Her fingers felt numb as they absentmindedly fidgeted with the rocks she’d stored.

                “Bring the Mangler!” The king roared, raising the staff above his head like a gladiator in front of a crowd. His voice vibrated with nasty pleasure dripping from his words. “Bring up the Bonebreaker.”

                Cheers erupted throughout the cavern, the roars and squeaks from the goblins signifying the choice to be a delicious one. A look of utter pleasure washed upon the goblin king’s face, eyes roving over the dwarves before a dirty sausage of a finger directed itself toward the smallest of the company. Ori.

                “Start with the youngest.”

                No! She screamed to herself. She had to do something. A carnal, protective instinct flashed through her like lightning. She couldn’t let them hurt anyone, especially the innocent Ori. He was kind, much unlike his leader. If she were correct, she could see the fear within him. He’d been asked to come against his will, or his better judgement. She wasn’t sure.

                They wouldn’t harm him. She wouldn’t allow it.

                However, Aria couldn’t run into the throng as she was. She needed the aid of coverage. She needed to distract them without being seen. It was almost impossible task, but the urge to protect threw any impracticality from her mind. Wracking her brain, she thought of different scenarios she’d seen in movies. With a silent scoff at herself, she made the smallest of head shakes. They were horrible guides, but it was all she had.

Mostly, heroes in films would fly into the heat of battle and come back unscathed. Even more so, they would brain storm the most brilliant ideas out of the blue. Her brain seemed to have a short circuit. There was nothing there she could grasp from.  Would the element of larger size be of use? No. She could see that flopping like a fish upon the dry earth. Could she possibly be able to slip into the shadows near the throne? She could also picture that working as well as flippers in the desert.

                She felt compelled to gaze around the area she stood in, her eyes trailing over the dank cave walls for any source of inspirations. She turned her head slightly, spotting a gleam of water within a basin of some sort to her left. The firelight flickered upon the still surface of the tub. There were no ripples as one would find upon the exterior of a lake, but something else stirred the waters of her murky brain.

Her eyes dropped to the dirt upon the trodden pathway. It was scattered and caked, but it was there. Surprisingly. Her gaze flipped to the bowl, and then back to the dirt. This occurred thrice before the gears in her mind began to clank into action.

Would camouflage work? It seemed a very farfetched idea, but by that time she felt desperate.  She blinked a few times, the grease of her thoughts slipping into the muggy portions of her brain to allow for clear and logical thinking. She heard the creak of wood above her, noticing movement upon the stretched platform feet above her head. The onlookers’ attentions were fully trained on the goblin king as those down below moved and mingled to gather whatever instruments he had ordered them to.

They were distracted already and unaware of the shadow stirring beneath them. A silent sensation of glee rushed her like heat upon numb toes. She relished in the feeling of power as she slunk within the darkness and prepped for the fruition of her idea. Be it hell or high water, she would try as hard as she could to enact the plan and reap the rewards.

                Slinking as quickly but as quietly as she could, she made her way toward the basin of liquid. Using her nose, she sniffed it. Relief flooded her when no smell came and she realized it to be water. Figuring the basin to weight no larger than a five-gallon bucket, she rolled her sleeves down and dipped her arms into it. She doused her head and neck, wetting her hair. It fell limply upon her shoulders and she cringed at her next idea.

                With her eyes trained upon the goblins above, she began to rub the dirt at her feet upon her skin and the fabric of her hoodie. To her relief, it smeared darker with the added moisture. She continued this for a few moments, coating her hair and neck as well as her cheeks and brow. She added smears to her jeans, the fabric clinging to her cold skin. Glancing into the basin of water once again, she saw the reflection and shook her head. Bending down for the second time, she added another coating to the first. Checking her reflection in the water, she deemed it suitable enough. The visage looking back at her gazed out muddy and incomprehensible.

                The camouflage would have to do.

                Her skin felt odd beneath the mud mask, her clothing gripping to her uncomfortably. Her only question was upon her next move. Gazing out into the cavern, she felt a slight bit of relief that the others had not been harmed. Her time was dwindling, however. She had to act fast.

                Below the platform she stood upon swung various others of the same kind. Bridges strung themselves under the main thoroughfare and into the distance. She only assumed, and hoped, it would stretch as far as the main dais in the center. Aria could only pray it to be so since she’d covered herself in mud just to find something that represented a way to go. It was, if she were honest, her next move.

Aria touched the pouch with her weapons, certainly understanding they were not what she needed in that moment. She needed a weapon far greater than a rock, but the rocks would come in handy as she grew closer to the entrance underneath. Luckily, darkness bathed the bathed the boards of her intended path and she steeled herself against the rising anxiety building within her breast.

She felt everything swirl around her, her stomach cramping with nerves and the pain of the unknown. They threatened to cause her to cave in upon herself, but she bit her muddy lip against it. She couldn’t falter right then, knowing if she did, she would turn tail and rush away in fear. She hadn’t done that so far, but there also hadn’t been a chance to. Now, given the opportunity, she felt as if her body would betray her and her feet would find the quickest away out.

Instead of flee, she blinked and sighed. She gripped upon what little sanity she held and closed her eyes against the fear rising at the back of her throat like bile. Then, she opened them and Aria slowly slithered her way onto the bridge like a snake in water.

Despite the thundering yells and chants all around, it seemed the ambient noise fell away as soon as her tennis shoes touched the aged boards of the bridge. She was relieved to find nothing upon it and figured it to be way too convenient. She couldn’t allow herself to linger upon it, however, as she maneuvered herself under the main bridge toward the throne. If she did, she felt something would appear.

Even so, with every shadow that crossed her path, she froze and crouched. She was shadow herself, blending with the dark as the footbridge. No light touched down upon her, and she thanked God for it. From below, she could see strips of the flickering torches. On occasion, she winced up at the gross sole of a goblin foot. This caused her to step backward, her foot slipping from the bridge to teeter over the yawning blackness below.

She blindly slung her arms above her head to find the sturdy rope railing, her fingers meeting it before her entire body spilled over the edge. However, to her discouragement, a few of her rocks fell into the darkness below. She watched as the plummeted into the inky abyss before she pulled herself up and scanned the area for any signs of detection. It took a moment for her heart to quell its rapid beating, her breath coming in short gasps of shock. Feeling inside her pockets, disappointment stabbed her heart at the realization she held only three more rocks. Cautiously, she took one from her hooded sweatshirt pocket and placed it within the pocket of her jeans in order to ensure its safety. If she decided to slip again, it wouldn’t fall so easily.

Aria continued on, stomping the anxiety nibbling at her once again. She felt hyperaware of everything around her while she crept slowly along and forward. Her hands tremored, her muscles screaming with ever inch she moved.  She only assumed her intended goal to be ahead, hoping against hope her assumption was correct. With every step, her gaze flipped upward either to be met with the orange glow of flames or the crusty pad of a goblin foot.

                Finally, after what seemed like eons under the showers of dirt and debris from above, she glanced upward one more time to see the gleaming steel soles she didn’t recognize as goblins. At first, she felt confusion. If they didn’t belong to a goblin, they had to belong to something else entirely. Something that didn’t belong there.

                A dwarf?

Suddenly, she felt the thunderous roars of the goblin king as he sang a nasty lyric above her. she felt the vibrations of his movements through the floor atop her head, the boards beneath her own feet quaking with every stomp and thunder of his voice. It was gravel against her ears and she bit back the immense urge to cover her ears. Instead, she trained her focus upon the steel soles above her head. Who did they belong to and would they know of her intention and remain calm if she were to raise a distraction?  They needed to know her intentions, but how would she go about doing such a thing?

                The boards above her head held a gap no bigger than a finger. Strips of light fell in steams of orange moats that shafted through and broke off before spilling upon the dusty boards at her feet. She drank in the stench of goblins and soil, feeling the grit sink itself like fangs into her skin along with the cling wrap of mug beginning to dry upon it. She eyed the space, attempting to calculate her next move. The boots were thick soled but perhaps one could still feel the steady prod of a finger upon it.  Her heart hammered within her chest, pounding against her sternum to threaten flight. If there was any time, it was now.

                Using a finger, she prodded sharply at the boot. The owner flinched a moment, a small and almost minute movement undetected by the enemy. It scooted backward, allowing light to cast itself down upon her before being blackened by the sudden frame of a dwarf. In an instant, Aria swallowed the lump within her throat. It was either fate or luck at who gazed back at her quickly with searing eyes of blue.

                She must have been damned lucky to be gazing up into the blazing gaze of the dwarf king.

Thorin’s eyes widened at the sight of something, his chin lifting to stare at the goblins above. Then, he glanced down again swiftly and she took that as a sign to make her intentions clear. Her finger waggled from the space, but the dwarf only blinked blankly at the spot her finer occupied. Her heart stopped, listening for any sign that he knew of who the finger belonged to but it seemed her concealment deemed too great. She bit back a curse.

He couldn’t see her.

Frustrated, she waggled her finger again just as a goblin foot hovered above. She retreated, watching as the goblins scrounged around the dwarves. Thorin’s eyes pierced the space she’d previously occupied, searching. The time window seemed so slim, her nerves gnawing and slashing at her feigned calm. She needed to act quickly, her time to act quickly draining.

                The goblin had left and Aria swiftly produced her finger again. He glared ahead for quite some time before dropping his gaze in concealed boredom. He wasn’t stupid, this Aria was thankful for. This time, the dwarf understood that it was, in fact, someone else. A goblin wouldn’t do what she had done. They were too preoccupied with their prisoners. Glancing upward, the dwarf king regarded the horrible creature bellowing lyrics and met her gaze again. Slipping a hand into her hoodie pocket, she brought forth the rock she’d wielded earlier. Stored in front so she could cover herself with mud, it had remained dry even though the rest of her had been soaked. Its stark pale color gleamed against the darkness.

                The dwarf king watched as she pressed the rock to the space for him to see. He blinked, the expression of understanding flashing behind his fierce blue gaze. She could have signed deeply at his interpretation of her wordless explanation, but she held her breath. Instead, she drew the rock from the gap and stowed it back in its pocket. The dwarf king gazed up at the goblin king again, eyes trained upon the jovial monstrosity.

                Thorin knew she was there and it left her feeling accomplished in a way. It seemed as if an unspoken agreement had passed between them. He knew she was at work below and she prayed he would not do anything to hinder what she had planned. Of course, she couldn’t rely on the tiny feeling of accomplishment for very long and allow it to settle. There were other steps to her plan that needed action. Dropping her gaze, she inhaled slowly to calm herself.

                Scanning the area, she sought the next step to her plan. Before her, the bridge opened to a similar platform mirroring the one above. It lay in shadows still, much to her relief, and encircled the rock in which the throne sat atop. She slowly crept under the deck-like structure, eyeing the scene before her. The platform felt akin to the wrap-around porch of a home. The view of the cavern fell all around her in soft oranges and dark bridges. She hugged the shadows again, keeping within the darkness to keep from being seen.

In the cavern, she glanced around. The walls rose high to the ceilings, stretches of bridges and similar platforms to the one she’d stood upon earlier housing many of the enemy. Various items rested upon each stand of boards; items used by the goblins such as the water basin she’d doused herself in. A smile formed upon her face, the mud cracking a little at the corners of her mouth.

                Her target had been acquired.

                With the briefest of hints of intention, she dug a rock from her pocket. Her fingers flexed around it, the rough surface digging into her sweaty palm. She narrowed her gaze, gauging the distance as best she could. The muscles within her arm tensed, the rust thick underneath the dermis. She’d not done such a thing in what seemed like eons, knowing if she missed, it would at least cause a stir enough to gain the dwarves time.

                Her plan was not to miss, however.

 Aria remembered playing softball when she was younger and when her grandmother was still well. At the time, she’d lived with the elder. She would take Aria to games and be there until the very end, no matter what time that may have been. Aria had been one of the best pitchers in the league, for a middle schooler. Her arm and speed were unrivaled. But, as her grandmother’s health waivered, the girl had lost interest in everything she used to love. Her nanna died, leaving her behind to be auctioned off to foster homes. Her passions became defiled and tainted by hatred for the system, and she lost all hopes to ever return.

                It had been years since she’d thrown a pitch. And the anxiety of that faltered her focus. The stomping and chanting above her rang loudly, barraging her brain with nonsense. A dull pain pricked her consciousness, her fingers trembling on the rock. She was scared, the fear threatening to cripple her.

                But, her brain recalled the Hobbit. She remembered his bravery and strength and glow of his sword against the goblin that attacked him. She recalled as he descended into darkness and the sense of loss that washed over her at his absence. She never thought she’d admired the Halfling. But the fires of respect caught aflame within, causing her to smile. She remembered his fall and his sacrifice to protect them both from their assailant.

                She wouldn’t let the fear keep her from avenging him.

                She inhaled as quietly as she could, recalibrating her focus on the water across the way from her. The clearance seemed distant, but she had more rocks to spare. If anything, the projectile would fall to the abyss and be forgotten. There were, in fact, many other noises she could hear that would trump a single rock’s pattering.

She blinked; her calculations complete. Flexing her fingers again, she gripped the rock now slick with her sweat. Digging deep within her mind, she recalled every exercise she’d used to prepare for a pitch. A slow, steady breath fanned her dried lips and she slid her eyes closed. The world fell away and it was only her and her target. The steady thumping of her heart drummed slowly against her rib cage, her breath leaving her lungs.

Time seemed to halt.

                Then, with every ounce of her energy, she propelled the rock forward toward its target. It sailed with the dexterity of a dove flying headlong into the gusting Oklahoma winds. She observed it, feeling the dwarf king to be doing the same. It continued its trajectory, the tension building within her breath. Had she giving it enough power? Was the gap too much? Anxiety rose its ugly head again, the dull pain in the back of her brain nibbling intensely.

                Would it make it?

                Her questions fell and so did the rock. It plummeted into the abyss, leaving her heart to drop to her feet. The panic threatened to form again, her fingers trembling. She’d failed, horribly. The thought caused tears to sting her eyes, but she bit them back. She refused to give into the tower of disappointment and shame erecting itself suddenly.

                She recalled the instances she’d failed horribly during her first game. She’d beat herself up, striving to perfect her form or land the flawless pitch. With that failure, she’d torn herself apart in anger. Her grandmother understood the feeling, telling her that she would become great if she remained strong. It had only been her first game.

“Rome wasn’t built in one day,” she remembered her grandmother saying with a smile. “You sure as hell will not become the best pitcher in one, either.”  

Her grandmother had been right, as she always seemed to be. Aria practiced and busied herself with correcting her flaws until her coach could not tear her apart. She achieved her goals of bettering herself, aiding her teams wins across the board. She pushed herself to become better, but she dropped the sensation of needing the perfection right that instant.

With another inhale, she dug into her jeans pocket for second rock. Her fingers lit upon one akin to the size of her palm, fingers still slick with sweat as they gained purchase. Her heart hammered inside her, pounding against her temples. The dull ache she’d felt earlier formed into a stab of pain, dots of white flicking in and out of her vison. She needed focus. She needed to breathe.

                She exhaled again, the nervous breath unleashing into the stale air. The king kept on with his merriment, the cheers and roars of his subjects unaffected by her failure. She could feel the slight tinge of hope illuminating a portion of her soul. They hadn’t noticed. But, she didn’t have much time to waste on another. Her target loomed ahead, thundering sounds of wheels echoing from the very depths of the cavern.

                She silenced her thoughts, ridding her mind of the noises enveloping her. Her eyes focused on the mark once again, her hand gripping sternly upon the rock. She wound herself as she did before, twisting carefully and quietly. With a thrust, she unleashed it across the distance and watched it sail.

                And fall into the void.

                Stunned, Aria bit back the panic as it screamed again. She felt the need to perform the same, her heart plummeting further to brush the tendrils of shadows in the chasm below. Letting her eyes slide closed, she sighed quietly, attempting to ignore the pressure building in her skull. She was tired and sore. Her head pounded with agony, the white flecks from earlier becoming steaks of light across her vision. The panic threatened to burst through her, sending her into oblivion.

                She glanced down into her jeans pocket. The last of her weapons bulged through the fabric, her fingers grasping it and bringing it into the open. She starred at it, her mind reeling with the pressing headache and horrid thoughts of her previous failures. She had one last chance to help the others. She had one more try before they joined Bilbo in the darkness. She had no inkling of what the king’s Mangler or Bonebreaker were, but she knew they were not friendly carnival games.

                In her grandmother’s stories, she described goblins as nasty, bad-hearted creatures. They found pleasure in torture and death, using their various caves to trap passersby. The Misty Mountains were riddled with their caves, the floors cleaving just as the one she’d seen. They were evil, malicious. She didn’t doubt they would do such things to the dwarves if she failed again.

                Clutching the rock in her fingers, she inhaled shakily. She could hear the voice of her grandmother telling her about perfecting her form and the time it would take. The girl had not thrown a ball in eons, it seemed. But, she knew she was better than her failures. If they were anything, they were teachers. She would not fail again because others’ lives depended upon her success.

She didn’t feel the pressure upon her shoulders. This time, the burden weighed upon her hand. She steadied her breathing, slowly inhaling the foul stench of the goblin caves and mud caked upon her skin. The mingled and mixed together, bathing her nostrils with the oddest of scents. She felt the world fall away as she had done in her most successful games. Sliding her eyes closed, she listened to the beating of her heart and the rattle of her breath as it exited her lungs. Something dripped in the distance, splashing upon the hardened surface of rock. The beat of a drum thumped in time with her heart. The muscles in her arm sang in sync with the rest of her. Her mind sharpened as she breathed slowly, calculating the previous failures and solutions to change them.

                Her first throw had been too short, falling feet from the intended target. The other had been too long, but still much shorter than she’d figured before. She needed more power, more energy. She breathed again, letting the pressing fingers of doubt slide from her heart as water would dripple from glass. She needed to be smooth, to recall everything she’d learned in all of the years she’d played.

                This was her only chance.

                Winding herself up, she twisted and threw. Her heart followed, her will praying the rock to bend to it. The stone sailed, the tension behind her breast raising its ugly head. She watched, wide eyed, as the rock crashed into its target with speed and power, shattering the fragile wood station it rested upon. The noise echoed loudly through the hall as the water basin sloshed its contents, leaning forward before pitching into the void. Its crashing could be heard as it tumbled down into the darkness.

                She’d succeeded.

                However, she had little time to celebrate. Silence fell thickly upon the cavern, all attention upon the calamity she’d produced. With movements as swift as a falcon, she dashed to the edge of her platform. Peering over the edge, she saw a window and hoisted herself up among the others and careened into the goblins surrounding the company. This portion of her plan she hadn’t thought through, if she were being honest. It only went as far as to cause an opening.

                As Aria barreled into the goblins closest to the edge, she realized just how many of them there were. It didn’t dampen her, however, and the dwarves soon comprehended her intentions. They, too, began bashing into their captors. Taking her lead, they gripped a few of their assailants and thrust them over the edge into the darkness. Cries of distress and anger arose through the chaos, adding little aid in ebbing the pain behind the girl’s temple.

                “Grab your swords,” She cried to the shocked dwarves as she rushed to the pile of weapons the goblins had gathered.  “Arm yourselves.”  

                They listened; surging forward to grip the weapons she’d begun rifling through. However, a few goblins met some midway, broken from their shock to block the path of their victims. She glanced at them, clenching her teeth. Bofur and Bifur rushed to her side, grabbing swords and axes from her grip as she handed them to each. They thrust themselves into the goblin blockade as others met her to grab some sort of weapon. Gripping the hilt of a sword, she tossed one behind her to an awaiting Nori.

                Soon, the pile had been reduced to nothing. The weapons had found hands to use them and the battle raged on. Aria, however, still remained without one. The clang of steel against steel, and screams of war pounded against the pain in her head. Another slice of pain followed the headache, reminding her heavily of the encounter of their initial fall into the goblin caverns.  

                She’d been bitten by a goblin and she’d forgotten about it.

                Adrenaline was a funny thing.

                “Miss Jackson,” Bofur cried from across the platform. His voice was sharp, full of warning.

                Suddenly, a shadow loomed behind her and she froze. A stench more potent than anything she could imagine caused her nostrils to wrinkle. She turned, eyes wondering up a grotesque body and locking with those of the goblin king. His gaze was watery and mad, bloodshot eyes regarding her.

                “Well, hello there, little mouse from the shadows.” He purred with seething fury. “Where might you have crawled from?”

                “That’s none of your business.” She cut.

                His eyes widened; a nasty sneer written upon his face. “Oh, your female. And human, too. How delightful.”

                She shuddered, his nasty body growing closer. She stepped away, retreated slightly from his stench and the very towering presence of him. He was tall, much taller than a grizzly bear. Thick, stubby legs held his immense bulk, the staff within his fat fingers aiding in keeping him upright. She stepped away as best she could, finding solid objects in her path and tripping slightly as she retreated.

                “Don’t you lay a finger on her!” She heard from the throng of bodies behind her. Fili?

                “I might lay more than a finger upon this fine specimen,” The king growled. “She looks mighty yummy.”

                Shear disgust washed over her like the stench of sewer pond in a heavy wind. Fear rose like bile in the back of her throat, clutching at her heart and causing her to falter. She needed to flee or fight, knowing not of which would aid her best. Against the massive brute before her, she couldn’t tell.

                He couldn’t outrun her, of course, given that his bulk wouldn’t allow for such a thing. She couldn’t fight him, the weapons she’d held earlier either given to the dwarves or laying at the bottom of the massive abyss below. If she chose to run, her entire mission would be compromised. She would have sacrificed her time and risked her life for nothing.

                But she had no weapon. She had nothing to fight back with.

                It was then Aria felt heat upon her chest. She didn’t dare glanced down for fear of what the king might to if she did so. However, she watched as his eyes widened even more, protruding out from the wrinkled sockets as if threatening to burst. An illumination as bright as a flashlight cast a white glow upon his ugly features. His pupils blew wide, the radiance seeming to blind him.

                The pendent?

                Aria’s arm jerked to her breast, the necklace beneath singing with fire. She thrust her arm inside her hoodie, bringing the trinket before the king. It burned brightly, penetrating the darkness of every shadow. It resonated from her fingers, a slicing sound ricocheting from every rock face and every goblin.

                Then, it began to vibrate in her palm. Shoots of heat shot down her spine, pulsing through her veins like a heartbeat. She felt powerful, strong, as it sizzled through every muscle and down to the very tips of her fingers and toes. She felt it in the roots of her hair, the energy causing tiny ones to raise at the nape of her neck.  The pain she felt dissipated completely, leaving her body feeling newly empowered with rushes of energy.  It gave her courage, coursing through her like a blast of heat on a cold day. And within the throng of song that caroled from it, something formed at the tip of her tongue. Something that seemed to hold as much power as the very object itself. A name.

                “Drayuik,” She whispered. “The Fire Bringer.”

                A flash of light burst forth and the song transformed into a scream. The sound raked across her eardrums, but her grip didn’t falter. She closed her eyes to the sound, feeling the fire within the scale begin to morph beneath her palm. A warm material as slick as steel met her skin, a ringing noise like the song of an unsheathed blade reaching her ears. She heard a sharp roar, felt the blaze of power rush through her, and the light faded instantly.

                She opened her eyes slowly, watching at the goblin king retreated a few steps back and away from the girl. At first, she thought it funny witnessing something so large stricken with terror at the sight the mere female he’d leered at only moments before. But, she soon noticed the direction of his gaze.

                In her palm and brandished before her, was the most beautiful sword she’d ever seen. Movies and books hadn’t touched upon a weapon as elegant and powerful as the one she wielded. A long, curving hilt of black warmed to the touch of her palm, the blade as red as the crimson locks laying limply upon her shoulders. It was formed of the same substance and solid to her fingertips as if carved from one, singular piece of steel. Or scale.

                Her surprise fell rapidly, as another blinding flash of white light sliced through the thick air like a knife to butter. With it came a harsh thrust of air, pushing back the goblins and causing the girl to tumble onto her rear. Her eyes slammed shut at the sudden pressure, arms and sword rising to shield her from whatever impended upon them. Darkness fell upon them all, the flames of their tall torches snuffed out in an instant.

More silence, deathly and hallow.

                However, upon the thick quiet, Aria felt something she hadn’t before. A new, unimaginable sensation washed upon her soul. It carried with it a white, simmering light as peaceful as the gentle rays of the sun. She inhaled it, felt its warmth flood her. A voice entered her, ringing among the others with a deep baritone derived from divinity.

                “Take up arms,” Came the voice, and Aria opened her eyes to it. “Fight…”

                The voice fell, confusion lacing the syllables.

                Before her stood a tall man dressed in robes of grey. A pointed hat sat atop his silver hair, a beard of the same shade growing roughly upon his face. He was old, much older than what she could fathom. His eyes cast themselves upon her with wisdom and warmth and a knowing she wished to discover.

                It was as if he pictured her there all along.

                “Well, it seems I don’t have to tell you twice.” He mumbled under a gentle smile. His large nose wrinkled.

                When she remained upon her rear, the man presented her with a strong but wrinkled hand aged with years of use. She glanced at it, unsure of what to do next. But, as she met his eyes, she seemed to know the next step. It also seemed that he stood there asking her with his eyes if she had the courage to do such a thing.

                “Well, Miss. Jackson,” He breathed. “What are you waiting for?”

                She nodded, a force far greater than herself causing her body to act on its own. She took the stranger’s hand and he lifted her from the ground to stand beside him. She glanced at him, spotting a staff of twisted wood darkened with age in his other hand. From beside him and with the hand he’d used to help her with, he produced a gleaming sword. Unsheathing it, he raised it into the air and rushed into the throng. Aria blindly followed.

                Aria had never fought before. She’d never used violence or weapons. Her heart, though it had been calloused by her experiences, remained warm and gentle. As she blasted amongst the warring dwarves and goblins, her body reacted on its own. Her feet placed themselves in spaces she hadn’t willed them to, the blade in her palms sweeping down with deadly accuracy she’d never obtained. The cries of goblins perishing to the companies fight filled her head, leaving her numb.

                “Follow me!” The old man announced, turning toward a wooden walkway. Bodies of their enemies littered the boards at their feet. “This way!”

                Aria felt dazed, her body unwilling to move. The dwarves rushed after the man without hesitation, but try as she might she couldn’t break the metaphorical cement attaching her to her spot. Then, a warm hand found her upper arm, another wrapping around the other. She met the brilliant blues of Fili and the soft browns of Kili as they swept her from the platform and after the elder.

                From every crook of the cavern, movement flooded into the corners of her eyes. She was instantly reminded of bees swarming in a hive. Roars and shrieks reached her ears, thundering loudly against the walls as plethora of goblins scurried from every shadow and dark place. Internally, she wished to scream, but the brothers kept her feet from the ground and carried her away from the horde of goblins closing in.

                After a few moments, she felt them halt. They panted beside her, chests heaving and weapons drawn.

                “Are you able to run, Miss Aria?” Fili asked, blues locking with hers. Sweat beaded his forehead, slicking the stray hairs upon his brow.

                She nodded firmly, still dazed. “Yeah, I think so.”

                “Very good.” He answered with a smirk. “Let’s see what else you are made of, then.”

                With that, he launched forward. Kili inclined his head, rushing after his sibling. She followed, having no other choice. Before them stretched the longest darkness she’d ever seen dotted here and there with torchlight. Floods of goblins impended upon them, the elder leading the throng of the company directly into the sea of nasty bodies. For a moment, she felt a sense of admiration for the elder’s dexterity, but it was soon forgotten as she pressed herself forward.

                She sliced and slashed with her sword, felling many as she followed the dwarves and the elder. Her body moved on its own, hearing nothing but the pounding of her heart and the cry to survive. Her feet were sure, launching over bodies as they toppled before her. Ahead, Thorin slashed through a dozen goblins, using his mass to send them over the edge. He was graceful, battle bred.

                Another path branched ahead, a handful of dwarves and the elder following. She chose not to take the path, unsure of what she would encounter. Fili and Kili, Oin and Gloin, as well as Balin, as well as Aria chose another path. The group rushed wildly, the brothers leading the throng through even more shadows swarming with movement from the swarm of goblins.           

As they approached another set of platforms, Aria’s gaze fell upon something ahead. To one side hung a rotund log as large as Bombur suspended above the path by frayed ropes. Without much hesitation, her mind jumped to the possibility of using this as a weapon of sorts. She was unsure of the source in which this thought arrived from, but she grabbed it with desperate hands and ran with it.  She called the dwarves in her party, indicating the oncoming goblins ahead and the suspended log above.

                Eyes of comprehension met hers and swords cut the bonds binding the log. Her arm latched onto the heavy thing, the others following suit. In an instant, they were rushing forward with the intensity of a battering ram, using the log to knock the goblins off their feet and into the darkness. It worked splendidly but they were not out of the clear just yet. Using the same tactic as before, they sent them to their deaths. The pain in her shoulder returned, arm threatening to give way. But she knew she needed to keep going. The others weren’t faltering. She couldn’t be the weakest link.

                They did this for what seemed like ages. Every swipe of their log brought a swift decent to their enemies. Group by group, they blasted through the throngs of goblins. By the time they’d felled what seemed like their last, more would come. Aria felt the white-hot agony slice through her shoulder, but she didn’t let go. She couldn’t.

                Above them, shouts from the other dwarves rang through the cavern. Aria caught scraps of the elder’s booming voice as well, directing them through the maze. Twists and turns threatened to break her party apart, but they remained vigilant and glued to each other. The brothers fell in step with her, reminding her to keep going and encouraging her over their shoulders. She felt grateful to them for their direction.

                Still, the goblin swarms continued. There were hundreds, thousands of them filing in across the walls and down the pathways. Eventually, their log fell to the depths below and they were left to their own devices. She surged onward, slicing each enemy with one swing of her sword.  

                The blade was powerful. It sang as it cut, the edge razor sharp death upon each goblin that flew into her path. To her astonishment, but also her thankfulness, it glowed with a brilliant light she’d never seen. As she fled with the others, it bit back the darkness like the slicing white light of an overpowered flashlight.

Aria soon realized she knew more than she thought. Her hands reacted to things she didn’t remember understanding, her body following suit. It was instinct. A pure and unaltered form of constitution branded into her mind like it had always been there. She followed each inclination within in her brain, unwilling to doubt even for a moment on where to place a foot or where to strike. It baffled her, but she couldn’t feel it for long. The enemy fell upon them in greater numbers than she could fathom, her urge to live far surpassing that of her wonder.

                However, she was soon thrust into an impasse. Her group halted, panting breaths ragged with fatigue. Beside her, Balin’s red face glowed with a sheen of sweat, drops dripping from the tips of his beard. Fili and Kili bent low, clutching their sides. Hers ached as well, but she knew they shouldn’t stop. More throngs arrived, rushing on either side.

                Something caught the girl by the hair, jerking her violently backwards. Her feet flew from beneath her, sword clanging to the ground as she felt herself slip over the edge of the walkway. She scrambled for purchase, fingers locking into the splintered boards she’d previously stepped upon. The brothers cried out for her as a dead weight pulled her legs and hindering her ability to hold on. She was being dragged backward toward the edge, the abyssal darkness below.

                She gripped blindly at the ground, her fingers striking the hilt of her sword. She latched upon it, dragging it toward her as she attempted to use it as some sort of stopping point. But, it was no point in trying. The wood would break and her attempt would fail.

                Something continued to drag her backward, the culprit unknown, the scraping of the sword echoing throughout her mind. The brothers shot forward, arms outstretched as they tried with all their might to grab on to something to keep her upright. Soon, her legs were dangling with the dead weight upon them. She had slipped over the edge, her fear all but screaming through her to save herself. Her weakened arms were failing, her fingers slick with sweat and half full of sword. Her body roared in agony, every nerve numbing. Another slice of pain shot from her dangling legs, the darkness yawning below her as she glanced down to the source. A goblin hung there; dagger tip sunken into her flesh. Warm blood streamed down her skin, darkening the fabric of her jeans.

                It was then that Aria realized she’d met her end. Of course, she felt the need to fight and flee. But, as she gazed at the goblin dagger and the beast that hung from it, she knew she couldn’t keep going. Her eyes flew to her group. Another horde of goblins flooded the brothers and the dwarves of her party. They fought and sliced, Fili’s eyes still attempting to reach her as he pushed through the throng. He still wanted to save her, to rush to her side and aid her up from the yawning chasm below. But, they were outnumbered. Their fatigued blared as loud as a the wailing goblins swarming among them, written as clear as day upon their faces as they struggled.  

                They were staying behind because of her.

                She’d thought she’d become stronger. The idea had been delicious. But, as she observed them before her fighting for their lives, her fingers slowly slipped. The muscles in her body became lax even as she willed them with all her might to strengthen. She tried to gain purchase upon the boards, only to slip once again. She was growing weaker as she hung there, her heart thudding painfully in her breast.

                Thorin burst through the swarm with the majestic grace of a born warrior, bashing through the goblins that surrounded her group until he reached them. He searched the area desperately as the brothers called to him. Then, his blues met hers. His face fell into a sudden expression of worry, an emotion she didn’t deem proper for him. Despite this, the dwarf king barreled through the enemy and directly toward her, arm extended and palm facing the ceiling in an attempt to help her. But, the pain became too great. Her grip weakened, digits lifting from the boards. Her nails scraped against the wood, leaving trails in their wake. Splinters lodged beneath them to slice her fingers open.

Her eyes locked with Thorin’s one last time and her fingers slid from the boards, the weight of the goblin and her fragility sending her body into the yawning abyss below.

Chapter Text

This, Too, Shall Pass

“The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

He was falling. Slipping into darkness. All around lay silence like death upon his ears. The rush of wind slated him, his heart plummeting into oblivion.

                Use your wings, he scolded himself. Why don’t you fly?

                There were none, and he descended into the shadows. To his death? He wasn’t sure.

                In any case, there was no turning back now.

****

                She remembered the silence but not the descent. The darkness loomed all around her, a cool but stale rush of air sending her hair in tendrils across her face. The plummet she didn’t share alone, but she felt isolated and doomed. The goblin that had stabbed her dropped below, the first to die she presumed.

                Her thoughts were scattered things, muffled only by fear and the anxiety of what was to come. Why had she been thrust into this world only to die in it? She only hoped it to be swift and painless, her body riddled with agony already. Her gaze fell fixated upon the dark above, the fading orange of torchlight like the dwindling of her life. She wished the others the best of luck on their quest, honored to have helped them with as much as she could muster.

                Something broke through the silence, a voice she didn’t understand. It drummed in her head, deep like velvet.

                Use your wings. It demanded. Scolding. Why don’t you fly?

                It was oddly placed and oddly misused. She had no wings. If she did, she wouldn’t be falling to her death. The thought almost made her laugh. She refrained, clasping onto the remaining strands of her sanity as she descended into oblivion.

                It wasn’t long until something squalled beneath. A crunch split through the quiet, sickening and nasty. She closed her eyes and prepared for her death.

                Her air escaped her as her body crashed hard into something. She had no chance to regain composer. Blackness came and she fell into it.

****

                Pain. Pain everywhere. He could feel it in his bones, a searing in his legs and shoulder. It rattled his scales with agony, the very limbs roaring with discomfort.

                Why hadn’t he used his wings?

                Because he had none. He’d fallen like a mortal to his death.

                No. He wasn’t dead. He could still feel the life roaring inside him. A fire he’d thought had been crushed. It sparked and sang, calling to him. He reached for it through the folds of time and place, touching a talon upon the heart as it attempted to beat.

                It wasn’t his. It belonged to someone else. They were dying and he was their savior. Somehow, goodness beckoned him forward and he listened. Pressing down upon the organ, he drew forth his own fire. Thrusting it into the dying light, it sparked and lit the kindling there. The pain faded and it glowed.

                He’d saved it. It was important. A crucial part of him he’d yet to discover. But something told him he would know. Soon. He only had to wait just a bit longer.

                It would all make sense soon. Soon.

****

                Aria’s conscious stirred and she felt a rush of heat crash through her in waves of pure pleasure. It wasn’t the kind of pleasure one would gather from such a feeling, the source unknown as well as the idea of reacting to it. It was comfortable and safe, harnessing her to its security and fighting away the cold and damp that threatened to devour her.

                Was this Heaven? Had she passed into the nether and left the world of the living so soon? She’d so much to do, though. She felt a heavy sense of dread even as the warmth engulfed her. It caressed her like hands upon her skin, leaving trails of heat in its wake. If she could see, she would notice the rise of gooseflesh as the warm fingers traveled up and down dermis. But, then, as soon as it arrived it vanished.

It was then she felt her mind awaken.  

Soon, a voice vibrated through her mind. It will all make sense soon.

At first, she remained still in order to calibrate the damage she’d undergone. She felt her arms and legs only slightly, a sharp cold pricking the tips of her fingers and toes. She wasn’t dead, knowing that if she was, she’d be unable to feel anything at all. For a brief moment, she missed whatever warmth she’d felt earlier. It had left her as quickly as it had appeared, leaving an eerie quiet that seeped in deafening strands all around her. Only a faint plop of water droplets echoing from unseen walls seemed to break the maddening disquiet.

A foul, stomach clenching stench reached her nostrils as she slowly drank in a breath. Of course, if she were dead, she wouldn’t have felt the nausea begin to form at the very whiff of the rank smell. It was vile, almost too vile, and the need to vomit reared its ugly head. The awful stench burned her nasal passages and she coughed. Instantly regretting the action, she sucked in another breath on instinct.

Everything hurt. The top of her head ached, slicing down her spine to web its way on either side to her rib cage and arms. The biting cold she felt caused pinpricks of numbness to form at the tips of her fingers, her body automatically clenching fists in order to gain dexterity. Even the bones of her knuckles ached as she moved. She unclenched her fist and her palm met something soft.

Aria gulped the lump in her throat. The soft object under her palm, from what little she could actually touch, felt sticky and wet. Immediately, her mind went to water. But, she couldn’t remember a time when water felt like dried soda on a table top. She pressed her fingers together to gain even more access to the state of her hands, feeling a nasty and viscous substance smacking between the pads of her digits.

She disregarded the foul stench for a moment while she gained enough strength to sit up. She paused, a tingle of fear spiked along her spine at the possible damage that could have been inflicted from whatever she’d been doing. What had happened earlier? Why was she surrounded by a vulgar and sticky substance? Why was it so dark? She barely remembered anything prior to it and all she seemed to recall had been the shadows and the cold.

Despite the promise of pain, she had to move. Another fear laced through her sore brain, the fact that if she didn’t remove herself from wherever she sat upon, she’d be stuck in the shadows for eons. Her mind already felt a nip of sanity being chipped away by the thick blackness. If she didn’t assess something, she’d lose what little stability she held.

 So, she bit the inside of her cheek and gathered enough courage to move once again. She kept herself stable enough to sit up, making sure nothing was broken. The pain seared through her, igniting her skin ablaze with white hot agony. Yet, surprisingly, she did not feel it all over. Instead, the hurt came from her shoulder and one of her legs. Her skin felt like fire around those areas, as if it had been cleaved in two. She didn’t sob even though she wished to. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, but she dared not let cries accompany them as they fell in warm trails down her cheeks.

                She managed to open her eyes, blinking back the tears. Darkness seemed the only one to greet her, further disorienting her as to what she’d been doing previously. She wasn’t sure where she’d ended up, knowing that if she were dead she would not have felt any sort of pain. The soft surface she sat upon spread all around her, and could have been the source for the stink. She hoped against hope that she’d grow nose blind to the foul odor, the stench too toxic to endure for long periods of time.

                Lifting herself as best she could to her knees, she noted the squelch of whatever she had landed upon reaching her ears. As she moved, she withheld the urge to cry out against the lances of discomfort slicing through her shoulder. Each muscle burned, feeling shredded underneath her cold skin. Still, she attempted to stand and found she couldn’t. Her knees quacked, muscles weak and Aria fell back down upon the soft surface loudly. This caused even more aches to erupt all around, her calf muscle throbbing. A sudden sensation of wetness soaking through her jeans caused discomfort to crawl like nasty spiders across her skin. She dug her fingers slightly into the soft surface she’d landed on and felt the bile rise in the back of her throat.

                It was spongey under her fingers, moist to the touch while she gathered more strength to get to her hands and knees.  Even more of the moist substance clung to the fabric of her jeans while her knees dug into the soft surface. She dashed the urge to vomit again, the rank sensation engulfing her nostrils. She began crawling forward and across the springy surface. Every so often, something hard encased in what felt like rubber or a similar substance as she crawled. Other things met her palms, but she closed her mind to what it possibly could be.

                Lifting her eyes blindly upward, she attempted to rove the area for any sort of light or direction. Of course, the veil of black felt inky and thick against her pupils and she could not see anything ahead of her. However, as she continued to move forward along the spongy surface, her eyes finally latched upon a faint glow through the thick dark. She blinked a few times in order to quell any doubt that she was, perhaps, viewing a source of illumination she could use.

                Steadily, and as best she could, she crawled upon the soft surface and in the direction of the glow. Its brightness grew in intensity as she neared it, shafts of white-red light piercing through the horrid shadows. She could almost see tendrils of the gloom attempting to douse the illumination, but the glow never failed.

                Finally, she reached it. A sense of relief washed over her as she reached for it, realizing it to be a sword. It felt familiar somehow, like she’d known it before. Her fingers brushed the warm hilt, heat radiating from the blade like a campfire. A shock split through the pads of her fingers, bringing about a sudden influx of memories she’d failed to recall.

                Drayuik, the Fire Bringer, she heard her thoughts say. She could feel the sensations of fondness fluttering through her veins and exiting from her fingers. It was a familiar sense of knowing, as if the blade itself had been a part of her long ago.

                Then, Aria realized the reasoning as to why she recognized the weapon. It had been a piece of her previously before. Prior to the darkness and gloom, she’d been in procession of the blade. Slowly, like the trickle of water in a slightly frozen stream, she pictured various other things that were all fantastic and horrifying at the same time.

                Eventually, the rush of fear and the final clip of what she’d seen before the darkness caused the tears to fall again. She sat atop her legs, knees digging into the soft surface she rested upon. Her breath came ragged, the scent inducing even more tears to flow down her cheeks.

                She’d fallen. She’d been injured. She’d been torn. Loss and heartache slathered her core, leaving her ragged and broken slightly. She could see the face of whoever she’d lost even though she’d not known them very long. Along with the face were others, bearded and serious. A pair of cool blue eyes regarded her with judgement and hatred.

                Then, there were other faces. Horrible and twisted features that she could only remember comprising her nightmares as a child plagued her mind’s eyes. Their glazed eyes blazed with malice. She’d never felt fear so deep, but she recalled pushing onward to face an even worse foe than before.

                She blinked at the glowing sword in her fingers. Her tears blurred her vison as she recalled the events prior to her fall. But, as she gazed at the sword and the fingers wrapped around the simple hilt, she felt suddenly thankful for having all of her fingers and her life. The loss she’d powered through, aiding the other faces  It was an odd thought to have at that moment but very logical at the same time.

                Aria blinked at her hands. Against the glow, she noticed something dark coating her hands. It had been the sticky substance she’d felt earlier. Gripping the sword tight, she lifted it up to illuminated her skin, rubbing the substance between her fingers once more. It gleamed like ink in the radiance, still as slimy and viscous as it had been before. Her eyes trailed up her arm, realizing how it caked the entirety of her forearms and bicep. This wasn’t the mud she’d smeared upon herself earlier. It was darker, thicker.

                She felt her heart thud against her chest. What was the substance? Why was it so thick and cold? There were dozens of possibilities, but none seemed to reach her mind at that moment. Instead, a rising sense of dread muddled her mind with thoughts of the horrific. Unintentionally, she felt the sword drop and the glow from the blade splashed what she sat atop.

                Aria bit back a scream of terror.

                Dead, cloudy eyes stared back unblinking and cold as a squirming creature she couldn’t identify crawled from the gaping hole. Gleaming white bone shown from dark openings that oozed with puss and the inky black substance slathered upon her arms. Yawning maws with lolled, swollen tongues painted the picture of terrified gazes the subject beheld before death. At her palms, even more of the slithering, slimy things that made her own skin do the same. She wanted to retch, to unleash the contents of her stomach. Some of the horrifying creatures clambered up her arms and she flailed wildly to rid herself of them.

In an instant, Aria flew from where she’d sat and landed upon her feet, the pain she’d felt earlier long forgotten. She stumbled across even more soft objects, her legs wobbling and unstable while she attempted to gain purchase upon solid ground. She did the best she could to put distance between her and the corpses. There was no denying how dead it actually was.

                She felt solid ground beneath her and let out the breath she hadn’t realized she held. But, it was short lived as her eyes traveled along the dirt strewn floor to spot yet another dead goblin. Then, another body sprawled mere feet from the first fell under the illumination of her sword. As she spun around slowly, she felt the horror build within her at the sight of many others strewn all around. Her knees trembled while she continued to back away, tripping over the twisted limbs of the bodies in her attempt to escape the carnage before her.

                Using the swords light once again, she bathed herself in its illumination to find that she was, in fact, covered in the black ink from the bodies. It didn’t take much for her mind to conclude where she’d landed after her fall. It was, perhaps, a very odd situation. Her horror ridden mind attempted to form a conclusion from her unwarranted tumble over the cliff, knowing the bodies before her had served as a soft landing pad. The thought alone caused her stomach to clench. The urge to vomit rose again, threatening to dump onto the soiled floor whatever she had left from her brief meal with the dwarves.

                She frantically clawed at her arms, trying to rid her skin of the inky blackness that clung to it and the sensation of the insects she’d presumed were still there. She failed, however, and fell to the despair that she was covered head to toe in something from a decaying corpse. She felt her sanity slowly begin to chip away and she took a moment to regain her composure, breathing through her mouth in an attempt to avoid drinking in the awful stench of death and the burn that followed.

                For a few breaths, Aria hung her head and allowed her eyes to slide shut. She gripped the hilt of the sword in her hands for dear life, listening to the thundering of her heart in an attempt to quell the blind panic. She inhaled through her mouth and exhaled through her nostrils, the burn still clinging to her throat. Eventually, the beating of her heart slowed and she blinked open her eyes.

Using whatever logic she held on to, Aria lifted her chin and began assess her location. It gave her mind something to do as it tried to absorb her current predicament. The glow of the sword cast itself upon stone that rose high on either side of her. On both her left and right the ground stretched into the distance, indicating there happened to be other paths away from where she’d landed. The ever faint cries of other beings rang from above, her eyes lifting upwards. No matter how faint they were, they were living things. And she was surrounded by the dead. Stepping in a grave.

                My almost grave, she thought as she gulped down the lump in her throat.  

                She should have died. She should have perished in the fall.

                Why hadn’t she?

                This thought caused her heart to thunder once again. She bit back the tears that threatened to pour from her eyes, the intolerable feeling of her predicament and the sudden realization of how close to death she had been begun to claw at her once again. Her skin tingled, threatening to paralyze her with fear. Her mind spit fired warning flags, and she scrambled even further away from the mass of death. Her lungs ached, her ribs creaking. The rank scent of death bathed her, covered her from head to toe. Tremors wracked her limbs as she found a solid wall to plaster herself against. Her eyes wildly glared into the shadows the sword could not fight.

                It was all closing in around her. Her breathing became labored once more, her heart threatening to burst forth and fall upon the rocky, blood covered floor. She couldn’t purge the visceral images from her mind no matter how hard she tried. This coupled with the fact that she’d almost perished appeared to be an even greater foe. She attempted with all that was left of her sanity to fight the ravenous fangs of the insanity.  

                It wasn’t fair, she thought. It wasn’t fair that she’d been thrown to the metaphorical wolves to fight for survival. She was just a simple girl from a simple town in Oklahoma. She’d never asked to be thrust into a place she’d only known from stories. If she were being honest, she’d only fancied them when she was younger. Teenage angst and other events in her life had dulled her sense of imagination. Perhaps being in her current pit of darkness was her punishment for not believing.

                Either way, Aria Jackson was not a warrior. In the matter of minutes in a fairy tale world, she’d managed to have been almost captured, almost killed, and potentially driven insane. She had no clue what to expect from the dank dark that surrounded her. If it was her luck, she’d die. Perhaps that was the greatest adventure among the shadows. But, if she’d been thrown into the world, why would she be taken so quickly out of it?

                But, perhaps, her purpose was not to survive. Maybe, it was as she’d thought earlier. A punishment. That would explain everything and nothing at all. There were so many questions, but none shined their light upon anything in the gloom. Only the glow of her sword seemed to fight the clawing madness just writhing within reach.

                Impending doom gripped at her heart, claws of her fate sinking into the supple flesh of her upper arms and shoulders. She felt the prickle of pain and almost the warm trickle of blood, but it seemed to be only within her mind. If it were up to her, it didn’t matter where she felt it. It was all too real, too sudden, and almost over.

                She was stranded. She was abandoned in the dark to only hear the cries of the others from above. Fate mocked her as she sat against the damp wall of a cavern, tears streaming down her face that she’d realized had not been there before. With every beat of her heart, she felt herself accept the fact that no one was coming to find her. There wasn’t a way to. She was shadow now, nothing but a memory. That thought hurt, stinging her heart enough to draw forth a wince. 

                She hung her head even more and let the sobs wrack her body. She leaned forward on her knees, allowing her shoulders to hunch in defeat. She wept vigorously, the hot tears streaming down the encrusted trails of their predecessors in torrents. It ached to cry, but she paid the pain no heed and contained. The thought of hope left her mind. Her fingers clenched around handfuls of dirt and the solid hilt of the sword, her fingers growing numb along with her entire body.

                Soon, her lungs ached. Yet, she remained where she knelt and allowed despair to take her. Her bones ached as she crumbled inside. Her heart began to crack as her resolve had did long ago, splintering against the pressure of the darkness. She would run out of tears, but she kept weeping until there was nothing left but the numbness of acceptance.  The silence that followed fell like a heavy mist and settled around everything.

                The only sounds were her heart and her breath.

                But then, something tickled her mind. It was faint, but she could feel it like a whisper of wind against one’s brow. She blinked encrusted eyes open, glancing around her to find nothing but the inky black. She shook herself; lifting her knees just enough to slide back to the solid wall behind her. She felt tired, fatigue beginning to settle into her bones as she leaned her head against her rocky support.

To her annoyance, the tickle returned. She shook her aching head, her brain mush against the pounding pain that throbbed against her temples. The tickle felt like a fly, buzzing incessantly no matter how hard she tried to rid herself of it.

                Then, it changed. Something whispered all around her. It ebbed and flowed in waves like the faint whisper of the sea. She’d never been to the ocean back on Earth, but she’d seen and heard enough of it through media to know the sound or at least a little of it. A faint crashing echoed against the walls, causing tiny tremors to play upon her black skin.

                She could almost hear what the whispers spoke of; her head tilted just a little to capture anything she could. Was she growing even more insane or had insanity taken her already? She wasn’t sure, but the faint mutterings began to morph into something else entirely. It was then that Aria realized she wasn’t imaging anything as a voice began to form in the darkness. It was, perhaps, in her head but it rang loud and decipherable against the damp stone she leaned upon.  

                You’re lost.  It told her. It was a sweet voice, faint and angelic. She narrowed her eyes against it. Hope has abandoned you.

                That was obvious, she snorted.

                But, it continued, do not forget the sacrifices you and others have made. Would you let the darkness take you so quickly?

                “It has already done so,” She growled, bringing her knees to her chest and resting her arms atop them. “I’m not meant to go on.”

                What makes you think that? The voice asked. Its tone felt concerned. What makes you think that you can give up so easily?

                “Because I am down here and the others have survived.” Aria murmured into her arm. It didn’t help that she was speaking with herself almost. The fact that it was questioning everything stirred slight anger in her breast. “I wasn’t meant to be with them.”

                Perhaps, the voice seemed thoughtful. You were not meant to accompany them on this leg of their journey.

                Aria lifted her chin. “What do you mean? You’re not real, how could you know?”

                 I am more real than you believe, The voice scoffed. If you trust what you have seen so far, then I am as real as everything else.

                “Then, who are you?” The girl probed.

                That answer will come in time. It stated. What matters now is that you stand and move on from this darkness. You are the only one that keeps yourself from rising.

                “What is even the point?” Aria huffed.

                Because, the voice sounded angry, your role is far greater here than it ever would have been on Earth. You didn’t come to this place by accident.

                Aria lifted her chin to the darkness. “What?”

                There are others who need you. It affirmed. And you are doing nothing for them by wallowing in your self-pity. Now, rise. You did not arrive where you are at by giving up. You are strong. Use that strength and go.

                With that, the voice seemed to fade into the blackness. She felt it wisp away like the breeze through a fog. But, its words remained. Aria felt them stab her, her slight bit of anger igniting into pure rage. Who was the voice? What right did they have to speak to her like it knew her? She only wished to be left alone to her own devices. Her hope had faded and all motivation with it.

                But, as she sat there, she let the words sink into her heart. Splinters of meaning lodged deep within her core, spreading the vibrations of positivity where dread had once been. She shook her head against it, wishing to allow herself to stew on her horrid demise. It seemed, though, that whatever had been inside her head had left its mark upon her for the better.

 Yes. Hope was gone. It had left as soon as she’d fallen upon the dead corpses sprawled before her. But, she’d moved on prior to that because she’d willed herself to. She’d steeled herself against the sudden loss of a comrade, and she’d fought against goblins as certain as if she’d done it millions of time before. Plus, she’d also moved forward with courage she’d not know. Her body just knew.  The very idea caused her to chuckle in its absurdity. But, it wasn’t untrue.

                She’d witness someone die, falling over the edge as she had done. She’d heard the crash and the screams. She’d tracked down dwarves through goblin tunnels, concocted a plan to rescue them only using ideas on she’d pulled from thin air. She’d sacrificed her own life for them without even knowing who they really were, and she’d fought for them. She’d even fought with them as one of their own.

                She hadn’t been in the new world for a day and she’d already done more than she ever could imagine. She’d gone over the edge, giving herself to the darkness. And she’d survived. It was either a cruel joke, or divine intervention. No matter what way it was, she couldn’t let the gore and shadows strike her down. She’d been through so much already. The voice had been true when it had demanded for her to rise. It was all she could do in that moment.

                It was what she had to do. Because, she’d survived what others had only dreamnt of. She’d been placed there for a reason. Sure, that reason was not known to her, but she had a goal. To her sudden realization, she had what she’d thought she lost.

                She had hope. Now, all she had to do was take it and run.

                More cries rang from above. A loud crushing split through the dull ringing, spluttering like a fish from water. Thrusting the sword ahead of her, Aria’s gazed followed as a dark shape fell from above. It crashed where she’d been moments before, spluttering like a fish before growing silent.

Another body.

She prayed it didn’t belong to a comrade, but the guttural sounds it made were far from that of a dwarf. She wouldn’t know what one sounded like if they perished and refrained from thinking on it further, but it was feral noises escaping from the tortured soul atop the others. It was not one of the company. That much she was certain of. Nevertheless, Aria turned from it, choosing not to witness its final moments. It was dead, the nerves still attempting to connect with its body as it fizzled from existence. She didn’t need to view it to know.

                Instead, she cast her gaze upward again. The dwarves were still above. The hope the voice had spoken of spiked through her. They were still alive as well as she. She wanted to call to them, to let them know she’d survived. But, how far was she down in the dark? Her voice couldn’t possibly reach them. They would be long gone by the time she’d decide to climb the walls. Her body ached at the thought.

                Where else could she go? Ahead and behind were the only ways. She turned her head toward where the last goblin had fallen, noticing the pitch-black shadows writing against each other. Shaking her head, she faced where she figured forward would be. Shadows slithered there, as well. Either way, she’d faced the darkness as she moved forward. But, she needed to go somewhere. She’d been given hope and had no other way of using it other than to move ahead. It gave her a small sense of power that bubbled beneath her skin and ignited the need to stand.

                Rise, the voice had demanded. Use that strength and go.

                She inhaled through her nose, the rot and ache of her ribs sending her into a coughing frenzy. She sputtered as she attempted to breathe, the scent she thought she’d become numb to far more intense than it had been. Moving forward seemed a brilliant idea compared to remaining in the decrepit stench any longer than she could bear.

                Weakly, Aria got to her feet. Her entire body screamed with discomfort as she stood to acclimate herself. Her soiled jeans were cold, her toes numbed underneath the leather of her tennis shoes. She flexed them, attempting to gain feeling back. Her arms and shoulders throbbed along with her head, but she straitened herself anyway.

                Even if the dwarves didn’t know her, she still felt the need to save them. Some of them had shown her kindness while others held her in contempt. It didn’t shake the overwhelming fact that she had to move forward and find them. In a sense, she needed to. Deep within her core something sparked, a powerful urge to protect and do what was right. It didn’t matter if she felt the stab of pain coursing through her and it didn’t matter if fear attempted to crawl across her skin just as the horrid insects had done earlier.

                She had to move. No. She needed to move. In her own way, she needed to get out no matter what cost.

                 In that moment, Aria Jackson grabbed her fear as hard as she could and ripped it from her person. Using what strength she had, she threw it against the rock wall and witnessed as it splattered against the hardened surface. She vowed to herself that in the darkness she would try her with all her might to never let bother her again. She shoved the old person she used to be down into the dirt at her feet. The courage she’d lost a moment ago began to bloom, a single spark to light the flame of her strength igniting. It sank its fangs into her soul, inflaming her core with the hottest heat possible.

                Forward was the only plausible way to go, she figured. It was the best solution. She hoped it to be the right one. And, she trusted the light of her sword would continue to guide her just as the voice had done earlier.

                This, too, shall pass. She remembered someone saying in her past. In a book or a movie perhaps. The darkness doesn’t last forever.

                She only prayed her sword’s glow would follow that.

Chapter Text

Hidden and Found

 “A hunted man sometimes wearies of distrust and longs for friendship.”
― J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

                She walked for what seemed like eons. The walls remained stoic and dark, passing by without so much as a hint to her direction. She continued, inviolate for the better part of an hour, but it she were honest, she didn’t know what time it actually was. Time seemed to halt in its path when it came to the darkness and she realized it was dumb to even consider keeping track.

                She limped horridly, the pain in her leg feeling as if the knife were still there. She did her best to ignore each stab, focusing fully upon the path ahead. If she were being truthful, she knew she’d experience worse from her foster father. His attacks had done so much damage in the past, but Aria had done her best to rid her mind of those memories. The wounds were sporadic and done whenever he’d gotten angry, but they had never been all at once.

Eventually, the bodies soon diminished and left a stone path to stretch before her. She skimmed the remaining corpses, spotting useful items on them. More specifically, she hesitantly relieved a corpse of its bow and quiver of arrows. There were more arrows scattered around her, her fingers trembling as she gathered as many as she could see.

She slung the roughly constructed across her shoulders, using the string from her sweatshirt hood to tie the arrows into a bundle and construct a makeshift quiver. Of course, it wouldn’t work in combat. But, if she came in contact with anything, it would be face to face and close. There would be no ranged attacks within the darkness.

Aria clenched the rough string to the bow as it snugly secured itself against her breast plate. Long ago, when she was younger and for reasons she couldn’t comprehend, her grandmother had insisted she gather skills that no one practiced in modern times. There were various activities the elder had suggested, but none were as attractive as the thought of the skill that could be acquired with a bow and arrow. Even if the girl found it pleasant to know such a thing and practice it, at the time, Aria wasn’t sure how useful it would be.

 But now, if it proved to be anything like her throwing arm earlier, she would at least try to knock the rust from that skill as well.  She’d never been very good at it like she’d been at softball. If she remembered correctly, she failed horribly when trying to hit her target. It was mostly her fault, her passion for the activity little to none and it was much to her grandmother’s disappointment the girl didn’t better herself. Eventually, Aria quit archery all together but it didn’t eradicate the fact that the girl knew some of what it would take to use the weapon. Besides, having it could always work to her benefit.

                Aria continued onward, leaving the grave behind. She lifted Drayuik, as she now begun to call it, high above her head like a torch. The sword proved trustworthy, its radiance widening as far as it could into the dark to illuminate her path. It hummed a pleasant sound in the silence, ridding her ears of the deafening disquiet that threatened to drive her mad. Along with this, the warmth from its hilt pressed to her palm and fought the chill threatening to slow her down. She was thankful for the weapon, no matter how odd it seemed to be and where it had derived from.

                During her trek, her mind wondered past the shadows and darkness of the gravesite she’d landed in and lingered upon the matters that had occurred prior to her fall. She picoted Bilbo and questioned herself again if he’d survived his fall or if he’d perished as she almost had. If she did see him again, it would be a joyous reunion. They not only would feel the overwhelming sense of seeing one another alive, but they would also become survivors of the same kind.

 They’d both fallen and had faced the darkness. She wasn’t sure if he would face the horror she had, but dark caves were not the friend of the light hearted. They were, in fact, their worst nightmare. Bilbo was warmth and light, his place was not that of shadow and gloom. If he still lived, he would split from the darkness a changed Hobbit.

Until then, she prayed that wherever he had landed, he was unharmed.

                Her mind drifted to the company after that. She thought of the fight they’d all faced before the Goblin King. Each one of them had fought so hard and she’d aided them as best she could. She hoped they’d escaped, praying none had died. The dwarves were stubborn, pig headed creatures. In her grandmother’s story, they were proud but rough. Their manners were lacking, and their cultures were much different than the culture she’d grown up around. However, they were fierce and loyal and fought for the betterment of their group, defending those they cared about. She wondered if she fell into such a category, shrugging it away before she worried herself for nothing.

                Eventually, the path grew narrower. She nervously continued, feeling the walls growing closer as she pushed forward. Various things skittered in the shadows, Aria swinging the sword to illuminate what could possibly be stalking her. Nothing showed, however, and she swallowed the lump in her throat anxiously as she stepped onward. She blamed her skittishness on the darkness, her eyes playing tricks on her in the deepest recesses where the light didn’t dare touch.

                She felt the build of tension in her breast. She wondered if she’d ever end up somewhere. She’d been walking forever, feeling the brush of rock against her skin. The path was growing slimmer, her destination unclear. She wasn’t sure if she even had one at that point, wondering if a dead end would mark the finale to her trek. She shook her head against such a thought, unwilling to give into the crippling anxiety threatening to drag her into the shadows. She would walk on until she couldn’t anymore, and then she would rest and walk again.

                Gritting her teeth, Aria picked up the pace of her stride. She’d not survived a fall or been stabbed in the leg just to die in a pit of death and decay. It was against everything she stood for, or at least what she’d stood for since she’d after she’d arrived. Even if she had no idea what lay ahead, she was willing to push herself until she met something that signified she was going in the right direction. She welcomed anything at that point, however, knowing a small sign meant she wasn’t meandering blindly.

                To her surprise, the stone walls suddenly rushed away from either side of her. The illumination from her sword spread across the stone floor, unable to reach further into the darkness which meant she’s entered a larger space. She assessed the perimeter, making certain there weren’t any other passages branching from the original.

                She found two darkened doorways roughly carved from the stone. Her previous path ended before them, and Aria was left with a choice. Her eyes flickered between the two, noticing writing above each door. Spewing curses under her breath at her ignorance toward the goblin language, she stepped to the door on her left.

                Aria delved deep into her mind to remember the reasoning behind her actions. There were various movies, information documentaries, and stories that told of those who were lost using the silence and the air to determine the correct direction. If she had an actual torch, it would prove much easier. She didn’t, though, and could only use what she had which was herself.

                The left passage reaped no rewards. Silence remained within the writhing shadows. She gazed into the darkness, hoping for anything that to aid in her decision. But nothing came and she sighed. Turning the glowing sword toward the other doorway, she listened intently to its silence.

 She was astonished to feel something cool brush against her cheek. Passing her sword to her left hand, she fanned her fingers against the shadow as if it were made of something more solid. Intently, she focused on the chill as it wafted again against her sweaty palm. The lingering black liquid upon her hands cooled to her skin and her hopes sparked within her.

                It was wind.

                Aria almost jumped for joy. Her body surged with the euphoria of a possible exit. At that time, she’d never felt so giddy in her entire life. The right passage was her option, and the girl didn’t hesitate. She couldn’t. She had little time to do much else. So, she pushed into the throng of darkness, fighting back the shadows with the glow of her sword.

                The walls glinted in the illumination, moist with condensation. The floor narrowed on either side of her, stretching forward as the air she’d felt grew colder. It veered to the right, her steps muffled against the smaller space. She was lucky she wasn’t claustrophobic.

                To her delight, the air pushed with more intensity as she pressed forward. If she remembered various movies correctly, it only meant the exit was near. Her steps hastened, her sword shoved in front just in case of an unwarranted visit. She’d not experienced anything in the tunnel, her mind cautious. If she knew anything, she knew not to feel too hopeful all at once. Her discovery was joyful, but she wasn’t completely free of danger just yet.

                Another draft of air caressed her face, smelling sweet like the pine trees on Earth. Whistling met her ears as the gusts pressed through tight spaces. Aria grew alert, knowing the sound meant there was an exit ahead. She couldn’t quell the thundering of her heart, now. It caused her blood to race and ignite with the flames of hope. She could feel a small smile cracking the black goo upon her face.

Faster she trotted, her footfalls growing quieter with the promise of a wide door and escape. The echoes against the stone walls fell silent compared to the intense gale that seemed to rush the interior of the cavern. She could almost hear the trees whispering to each other and see the bloated moon spill its silvery light upon the rocks. She’d missed the sky, having not seen it in this new world yet other than the sneak peek she’d spotted before their capture.

What she would do if the sky opened up above her. What she would exclaim to the stars, arms open wide as she would twirl underneath them. Her pace quickened, her footfalls dying and no sound bouncing from the rocks. She was gaining ground upon her goal, and soon, she’d be out into the open air.

                Something flashed against the wall as it jerked to the right once more. Aria pushed herself into a lope, pressing her free hand against the chill rock of the wall for support. Her heart thrummed faster beneath her breast, the sword’s glow striking down the shadows as she rushed forward. The air grew colder and more intense the closer she got.

It was then Aria felt something lift from her shoulders. A weight she’d felt in the darkness seemed to take wing and flutter away. The pressure upon her chest faded and she allowed herself a moment of respite, halting her stride. She could smell the chill breeze. It danced upon her skin, causing gooseflesh to form. She knew immediately the reason, a combination of excitement and the chill raising the skin upon her forearms.  The wind lifted the nasty, viscera covered tendrils of her hair. Upon it, she scented the earth and rainfall. She could hear the creaks of trees in the distance; feel the tension of storms brewing beyond. The spray of moisture fluttered across her cheeks and her breath hitched.

 Then, a flicker of white illuminated the yawning mouth of a cave ahead. It was brilliant and powerful and the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen thus far. Her heart clenched inside her chest, her free hand moving to clutch the area above.  Aria felt the sting of tears in her eyes as another flash of white illuminated the opening again.

She didn’t hesitate, her body moving on its own. In an instant, Aria rushed forward while brandishing the sword ahead of her like a torch. She could feel the chill creep down her spine, but she ignored it. She’d fought the darkness and the death that she’d encountered. She’d moved past everything that she’d thought would bring her down so far. In the end, she’d won.

And, in the blink of an eye, she exited the cave and stepped on the moist earth beneath her feet.

At that moment, Aria couldn’t go any further. Crumpling down to her knees, she let the sword fall to its side as she kissed the dirt. A chill damp seeped through the soiled fabric of her jeans, but she engulfed it greedily. Joy and happiness coupled with the surging rush of relief flooded every ounce of her while she gathered fistfuls of grass and soil within her shaking hands. She sobbed into them, feeling the substance between her fingers and savoring in the fact that it was real. She tasted the salty liquid leaving trails upon her dirtied cheeks and the bitterness of the pine sap lingering upon the wind as it danced through her hair. She could scent the moist earth that she clung fingertips, rich and almost black under the night sky. For a moment, she was reminded of whatever substance came from the bodies in the pit. But, with great effort, she pushed past it reveled in the smell to bring her mind from calamity once again.

  Aria remained as she was for what seemed like years, appreciating in the feel of the dirt beneath her fingers. Her nose drank in the rich aromas around her, letting it bathe her insides and rid her body of the decay that threatened to remain. She hadn’t noticed how much she would miss the scent of soil and foliage, or even the bite of the chill upon her skin. But, as she inhaled deeply, she knew she’d never take the substance for granted again.

 She raised her eyes to the sky, the stars brilliant and sparkling against the inky blue velvet of the night. The darkened silhouettes of the trees swayed in the chilly breeze, the craggy ridge of the mountains encircling her from all sides like teeth in a dragon’s maw. Various noises erupted throughout the trees, sending shivers down her spine.

She couldn’t stay there. She had to move.

With a sigh, she blinked back the moment she’d savored and began to gather her thoughts to assess her location and situation. She could feel the sudden pressure of the hour glass ticking away within her mind. She could allow herself to revel in the savory moment, but not for long. There were creatures lurking in the darkened caves behind her and various others she couldn’t identify in the dark. She was in a foreign place and she felt then that the goblins were not the only ones that she needed to worry about. If she were a guessing woman, which at that point she was, she would figure there to be far greater things lurking within the wood at night.

She was certain of a few things, however. The earth was damp beneath her fingers, indicating it had rained. However, it had stopped some time ago in the night. If she were correct, morning was not too far ahead but she had no knowledge of Middle Earth’s night and day cycles. She would either be correct or suffer more darkness. Either way, she wasn’t sure what to expect. She’d left her home on Earth in the early hours of the morning. But, perhaps, Middle Earth contained a different time.

It mattered little whether it rained or not. What mattered to her then was getting as far away from the goblins and the darkness as possible. She had to find the company. Their lives were at stake if they couldn’t find a way out. That, if she were correct, would prove to be even more of a tedious plan. Without knowing if they’d made it out alive, she would be searching for twelve needles in a thousand bales of hay.

Aria stood, grabbing the sword in her fingers once again. It began to dampen its illumination, which Aria had not wished but found somewhat understandable. The angry clouds in the distance had uncovered a heavy moon. The silvery light spilled upon the trees and the earth she stood upon, illuminating rocks all around her. To her luck, she could see just fine. There wasn’t a need for the sword’s light and it seemed to understand that.

Glancing around her, Aria’s mind began to work. The cogs within her head spun slowly as she continued her analyzation of the area. She delved deep within her mind, attempting to recall anything that would help her in her situation. She would need warmth and fire soon, the chill beginning to bite through her simple sneakers and hooded sweatshirt. It didn’t help the fact that she was soaked to the bone in the black, viscous substance.

 As she studied the slope she stood upon, she found herself recalling her grandmother’s story. It was the oddest thing to come to mind, but at that moment, it seemed fitting. There were too many instances she’d encountered that were very close. Aria had once remained firm in believing in coincidences, but the fact that everything seemed to fall into place just as her grandmother had described left Aria doubting herself. The only difference in the timeline had been her very presence.

In the tale, her grandmother had mentioned exactly what had occurred in the goblin tunnels. She’d told Aria about the unfortunate capture of the dwarves and the near death experience each of them shared. She’d also described just how treacherous the caverns had been, the smells, and the hideous king. She even had told the girl of the sudden appearance of aid. Who had been the white haired elder from earlier? Had that been another aspect of the ballad?

Gandalf. Had his name been Gandalf? For some reason, it clung at the tip of her tongue and remained there. He was a powerful person, if she remembered the tale correctly, and served as a great help to the dwarves in their quest. Of course, he’d shown at the best of times right before they’d been inches away from death.

The only thing that seemed to stump the girl was her arrival. What purpose did she serve if she were not in the tale her grandmother had told? Aria’s support seemed to offer enough help to the company, but the elder’s gaze had been knowledgeable as if he’d known she’d be there. Perhaps her interruption had not been foretold as was what her heart informed her of, but she couldn’t deny the feeling that she was somehow supposed to be right where she stood.

Aria’s mind switched gears, clanking to another subject concerning the tale. If the accounts her grandmother had described so diligently were correct, the girl could use it to her benefit. Bits and pieces began to flow back to Aria, her grandmother’s voice filling her mind as it wove the tale like wicker to a basket. She’d made it past a point she could barely remember, knowing she’d not seen what had occurred after she’d fallen. If she were correct in thinking their enemy had been defeated, she found herself feeling confident in moving forward.

If what her grandmother had spoken was to be true, the dwarves would make it out of the mountain alive. They would defeat the hideous goblin king with barely enough sanity, however, which didn’t seem to alter their plans. Perhaps, they were still inside the mountain as she stood there dumbly. The more time she wasted, the more time she lost awaiting an answer when it seemed to be handing right in front of her mind.

She needed to move forward. But, without much else to use other than her grandmother’s story as her guide and a mysterious glowing sword she’d had her entire life, she felt a slight blip upon her courage. That seemed to be only just that, though. A small and insignificant alteration to what she needed to grab onto to keep going. If anything, she felt her mind wondering back to her grandmother and what she would have thought of her granddaughter’s current situation. If anything, she would aid Aria to the best of her abilities.

Those thoughts only seemed to stir an ache within her belly, her heart clenching painfully. Tears began to sting at the corner of her eyes again, an overwhelming sensation rising and mixing between sorrow and anger. She’d felt it before, right when her grandmother lay dying. The emotion of loss was a flash flood of sadness and heartbreak. The gaping hole left behind had barely filled itself in the years after she’d passed and Aria busied herself with life to compensate.

Her grandmother had been all she had. The only person who had respected her for being herself and had encouraged her to do what defined Aria as herself. Having lost her had caused her heart to harden to those around her, raising the rumors among her peers that she was emotionless and “hard to handle”. Of course, some were correct, but not all.

If she recalled, she’d been labeled stubborn because she wasn’t willing to give into temptation or the pressure stirred by others. She was not a sheep to be stewarded through life. She held to her own goals, and she’d passed at least a step without a hitch. She’d escaped her horrid home life. But, at what cost. She no longer remained within Earth’s borders. She was far beyond.

The fact was, she wasn’t sure if it was a positive or negative thing yet. So far, the latter had been decided for her.

Bilbo came to mind then. Aria’s grandmother would have fancied him. Besides the fact that she would have lost her wits in meeting a true Hobbit, she would have fancied his spunk and warmth. Aria was drawn to them like a moth to a flame, basking in its comfort. She missed him even though she didn’t know much about him yet. She hadn’t received the chance to. She knew he would have loved her grandmother’s stories, especially the one about him.

Aria squared her shoulders, biting back the impending rush of sorrow nipping at her heels. That very story would keep her moving forward. It would guide her. If she were being honest, she wondered if her grandmother had told her the tale with the intentions of doing just that. At first the idea seemed farfetched, but now as she stared upon the mountain side covered head to toe in viscera, she couldn’t help quell the sensation of truth.

Again, the cogs in her mind began to knock the prior shock she’d carried. A possible trajectory came to the forefront of her mind while she gazed across the tree line. If she remembered correctly in the tale, the dwarves would end up at the opposite end of where they started. There was a fire, and something else she couldn’t recall. She cursed her tired mind, knowing her luck soon would run out if she continued to tax it so often. If anything, she needed an end point to begin her trek forward.  She needed to find a way to the opposite end where the dwarves would find themselves, but not knowing which way. Was she already there, or was she placed further away than she needed to be? That thought took a chunk of hope from what seemed to be building within her and she pursed her lips.

Scanning the area for any type of clue, she noted the swaying trees as they whipped in the stormy breeze. Boiling clouds flashed with rickety sticks of lightning struck the ground farther away. She was upon a slope, perhaps the foot of one mountain and down below the mirth of blackness, no moon or stars reaching forward to sweep the ground.

She gazed at her feet, noticing the rocks under her shoes. Shrubs dotted the side of the mountain, dipping into the tree line and far from sight. She glanced on either side, noticing the same trophic areas. Her best bet would be to descend into the pine cover below, perhaps finding something to set her course within the thick cover of the wood. She was not plagued by a slathering pack of goblins at her heels, remembering prior to her fall that their unwarranted hosts had been at their backs in pursuit.

With a nod, Aria carefully began to descend the side of the mountain toward the tree line. She’d not climbed down many moutains before, the footing beneath her shoes proving looser than she’d anticipated. Many times as she dug her heels into the rocky substrate, she felt it give. Thanks to her arms and the sword she carried, she prevented a tumble down the side. Soon, she’d reached the timber and entered without hesitation even though the darkness veiled most light from sight.  

The trees whispered as she stepped forward, the sudden alter in atmosphere causing the flesh upon her arms to raise under her black paint. It was silent despite the chattering and groaning of the ancient timber, her foot falls almost a blaring horn within the shadows of the spruce and pines. She inhaled the night air, the chill burning her nostrils. The scent overwhelmed her, but nothing compared to the stench of herself.  There wasn’t much that would quell it, she figured. It reminded her of getting sprayed by a skunk, the idea alone causing her to cringe.

                In the back of her mind, she silently wished for rainfall to wash the viscera from her skin. Her stomach rolled, mouth closed out of habit. Usually, when a rank scent met her nose, she’s clamp her mouth shut to avoid flies and other bugs that swarmed the dead or otherwise nasty things from entering her maw. She wasn’t sure if there were bugs in Middle Earth, but old habits die hard.

                She lifted the sword before her once again, its glow beginning to penetrate the shadows. The darkness that surrounded her pressed from every angle, Drayuik barely able to pierce through the veil. Along with this, she heard rustling past her own footfalls. A tickle of unease began nibble at her heart as it began to thump nervously within her chest. The further she dove, the more she swore the existence of things living farther in the shadows than her sword’s light could penetrate. Instead of giving into the temptation to fear, she remembered it splattered against the wall of the cave, and pushed onward. She ignored the whispers of the wood, warnings in her gut letting her know the way ahead could possibly be tainted.

Aria glanced upward after what seemed like eons in the wood. She noticed the breaks in the canopy allowing her to capture a view the sky. She could feel her bones quake, her heart all but pulsating from her breast. The silence of the wood felt almost deafening, her eyes attempting to adjust to avoid colliding into the solid trunk of a tree. She’d felt her shoulder brush past a few, the sword’s light doing just enough to encompass a small portion of her path. However, there were various things that brushed her body that didn’t seem to belong to a tree. Aria just ground her teeth and kept moving.

                Suddenly, the girl’s eyes caught the faint hint of a glow within the deep shadows of the wood. Halting in her tracks, she observed it for a moment in an attempt to assess what the glow belonged to if it did to anything. The air around her seemed still, keeping its secrets as to what the light actually was.

                Even so, the woodland around her seemed a cacophony of noise. The trees erupted in sound, rustling against each other like hushed voices in the distance. A small piece of her wanted to heed the whispers of warnings in her head, wondering what the light meant if it did at all. This part was weary of the glow and who had created it.

                It could belong to another being, she thought. It could be someone there that could help her. She pondered on who could possibly be out upon a mountainside in the middle of the night. Whoever it was, she wondered on their sanity. There likely was not a dry piece of wood in the area. Yet another observation stemming from knowledge her grandmother had taught her long ago.

                But, the likeliness of that situation was very slim. There could not possibly be a sane person, or creature given the world she was in, that would find themselves out in the chill of a mountain slope. Still, the lure of a possible warm camp drew her away from her hesitation and toward the illumination that shone like a beacon in the deepest darkness.

                As she drew closer, she spotted a stand of bushes to her right. Scooting near them, she used the leafy cover as a means to spy upon the land below and the mysterious glow. A larger portion of her wanted to see what the illumination actually was. It was Middle Earth. There were many reasons why a random glow would alight in the middle of the wood. It could mean help, and help was exactly what she needed at the moment.

                What she didn’t need, though, was another attack. Her nerves fired warning shots, reminding her that she was not on Earth anymore. Everything was not friendly and pleasant as it had been before. There were, in fact, things that wanted to kill her and many other creatures looking to add her body to their food supply.

                She glanced at the sword, its gleam like that of a star. If she wished to listen to the small part of her that wished not to move forward, she had to douse her light. The curiosity and desperation to find aid began to grab a hold of her, attempting to quell the cautious side. She couldn’t rid herself of that logic; however, knowing if she did it would cost her.

                As if reading her mind, or feelings, the sword grew dim and morphed. The sensation wasn’t unlike the thrumming of a cell phone vibration, warmth spreading through her palm. Finally, the sword had transformed back into the ornate scale pendent she knew well. The chain she’d thought lost draped across her fingers. She didn’t understand any of it, but was thankful for it nonetheless.

                Placing the jewelery upon her neck and in its rightful place beneath her sweatshirt, she peered out over the bushes and toward the glow. It was farther down than she’d anticipated, but she could see things clearly from where she crouched. Figures moved against the light, casting long shadows upon the rocky substrate. Beyond that, she couldn’t discern if the figures were friend or foe.

                She did, however, recognize the orange hue as that of a campfire. The shadows of the figures danced upon the ground as smoke curled from the warm tongues to mingle with the canopy. She could smell the acrid scent and hear the faint pop and crackle as the fire consumed its wooden prey. Along with the ash and smoke, she smelled something else entirely. She scented something that caused her nose to wrinkle against it given the fact that she couldn’t stand to smell herself.

                Her logical side began to scream as the air seemed to shift. A chill swept up the girl’s spine, reminding her of the horrid darkness she’d just escaped from. Deep within her heart, she felt the same shadow radiate from below. The fire was not a beacon of hope or friendly aid. Was it perhaps evil? Her skin prickled at the thought, the cold fingers she’d felt earlier all but clawing at her mind now.

                The leaves of the trees whispered harshly above her, a negative air suddenly causing her stomach to turn horribly. They were warning her again, she thought. Their voices were harsh words filled with tidings of malice and ill content. It was heading straight for her, but she wasn’t prepared for what was to come afterward. Gazing into the thrashing canopy, the wind blew with gusto. It sent the trees into a spiral of chattering. For some reason, she could hear it all. She always could no matter how hard she tried to deny it.

                Right then, she wished she’d never ignored them.

                Vibrations in the soil alerted her to something approaching from behind. Aria stiffened, turning swiftly to find the source. However, in the blink of an eye, the air left her lungs as something hard and blunt made contact with her chest. She was thrown along the ground, unable to comprehend exactly what was taking place. A horrid smell more potent than what she’d detected earlier wafted into her nostrils, causing her stomach to knot painfully as she attempted to catch her breath.  

                A retched growling entered her ears, clawing its way down her spine like the sensation of a nails on a chalk board. She slammed her eyes shut just as sounds she couldn’t understand began barking around her. Eventually, she figured it to be some sort of language she didn’t know. Words dripped with malice and a meaning far deeper than she could fathom.

                Black Speech. A voice whispered in her head. A voice she knew from her dreams.

                Black Speech? What did that mean?

                She had no time to think on the subject. Something ripped her upward harshly by the collar of her sweatshirt, the fabric clamping upon her throat. Her trachea closed, her airway shut. She struggled violently, hands flying to her neck to alleviate the obstacle ridding her of her air. Her legs thrashed out, striking whoever held her. The pressure vanished and she fell again, her eyes flying open.

                Before her stood the gleaming eyes of what she initially thought to be a wolf. However, it was far bigger than any normal one would have been. A large, sloping forehead spanned the width of both of her hands set side by side and a long, fang filled muzzle with black gums spilled drool upon the earth at its paws. An inky black nose crusted with what appeared to be dirt flared wide nostrils toward her, scenting her sudden shock. Sharp ears swiveled atop its head to listen as she felt her heart leap into her chest with the fear she’d thought she smashed upon the cave walls.  

                It stepped forward with massive paws, black claws gleaming in the glow of the firelight behind her. The great thing was built as large as a horse if not larger. Massive sloping shoulders rippling with bands of muscles gathered as it took another step forward. The claws sunk into the earth, leaving deep gouges in the moist soil. Its hunched withers and entire body was covered with mangy hair that swayed in the stormy breeze.  A slight orange hue bathed the beast in the weak firelight.

                Upon its back sat the most hideous creature Aria had seen yet. Dark armor covered a course, squatty body. Short arms grew nasty hands that gripped the mane of the creature it sat upon. It was humanoid in its build, but far from being human in nature. A foul, deformed face and black, beady eyes squinted in a smirk. Tar stained pointed teeth peeked from under dark lips as it smiled menacingly at her.

                From its side, it drew a rough sword before barking at her in the language she’d heard earlier. For some reason, it wasn’t attacking. Instead, the tip of its rusted sword tipped toward her harshly as if the creature itself demanded something of her. This action only made the girl confused, her lack of knowledge of the words it hissed at her. Besides the fear rising again in her mind, concern began to solidify as well.

                The words flying from the creatures mouth suddenly grew heated. It spat them toward her, its tone demanding. The tip of the sword drew closer to her face, her heart leaping within her throat. The more she remained silent, the more the creature figured she was not going to speak. Its eyes glinted violently and it suddenly called across the wood. The pitch split the night air and Aria did everything in her power she could to remain where she knelt. She glanced around the area for any form of escape.

                But, she was too late. From what she figured, the creature had called for reinforcements. In the blinded fear she’d felt, she’d been unable to answer the demands of the mounted rider. Even if she’d not known the language it spoke, she felt she could have done something different.

However it mattered not. Roars erupted from deep within the wood, the dark shadows writhing and parting from the inky mass to reveal even more wolves emerging from all sides. They howled and slobbered like famished beasts as she whirled in her spot to meet the slanted eyes of the creatures. Each wolf held a rider of the same type as the first, nasty leers upon their disgusting faces causing her stomach to lurch. Weapons were drawn and pointed her direction, allowing for zero chances of drawing her own.

                Despite the burning need to flee, Aria chose life in that moment. There were various types of sharp blades pointed in her direction and fangs ready to rip her into shreds. She could hear the panting breaths and feel the puffs of hot air upon her cheeks. Everywhere she seemed to look presented no option for escape. If she chose to, it would likely mean her death.  

                So, she gave in.

                Raising her hands above her head, she placed them upon her head in an act of surrender. Immediately, she was lifted from the ground by the bow upon her back. The rotted cord ripped immediately, rendering it useless. She crashed to the ground harshly, her lungs immediately eradicated of air. Something stabbed her shoulder, the pain shooting through her like a bullet. She had no chance to suffer her injury, however. Something slung over her neck, gripping tight like the coils of a snake. It stabbed and prodded like the frayed tendrils of a worn rope. She couldn’t breathe, her airway crushing beneath the pressure of the coils around her neck.

                She was being dragged. The rocks scraped and battered the girl, leaving rashes in its wake. Her head lolled horridly, the strength she’d had earlier leaving her quickly. Everything flashed in a blur of pain and darkness, the howls and hollers of her attackers swimming within her mind. Everything screamed, her vision dotted with the gleam of fangs and bent metal. She blankly recalled the party halting finally, the warmth of a fire licking her wounds.

                The barking and wails continued to erupt from all around, the pounding ache in her brain adding another layer of agony to the injuries she already felt. She blew dirt from her lips, attempting to lift herself upright. Something else grabbed her from behind, flinging her forward and closer to the fire. She landed upon stomach. Her teeth sank into her tongue, the copper tang of blood flooding her mouth. She spit, groaning against the spike of discomfort.

                Blinking against it, she weakly attempted to lift herself again, noting the blurry shapes of figures writhing before her. Grunts and shrieks pierced her ears, the clang of metal against metal signifying their weapons were drawn. Panic had yet to set in, the knowledge of her predicament only reaping the fact that she was not in a good place.

                Her mind swam but not with the promise of respite. She hurt as she drank in the stink around her, her breaths sharp and shallow. Agony stabbed her lungs, the possibility of cracked ribs not going unnoticed. Her vision didn’t cease to clarify, blobs of dark mass stomping in front of her and around her. The fire was but a simple, dancing blur of orange. She felt the heat upon her numb fingers, wishing the sensation to be felt under different circumstances.

                Despite the fact that she couldn’t see, she could hear the roars and wails erupting like sonic booms in all directions. She felt their movements in her bones, her skin touching the moist soil beneath her. The din was almost deafening, her mind already muddled and numbed by the pain threating to split her body in two. She labored to breathe against the ache in her ribs. The throbbing discomfort in the places she’d been attacked served as a reminder of what she’d already been through. If anything, another blow would end her.

                She felt tremors beneath her palms as something approached. The ruckus about her fell away suddenly, signifying something was about to occur. A growing sense of dread approached as the silence hung among the woods once again. She could only hear the snap of the fire as it consumed its prey. Futilely, she attempted to scoot away as a sudden wave of nausea began to form knots in her stomach.

She blinked, attempting to add clarity to her vision. Pieces of clarity began to trickle in, bringing parts of the world into focus. She spied the horrid figures she’d encountered earlier standing to either side. Their demeanor remained placid, their eyes trained upon something standing amidst them.  They were a large, hulking figure that towered above the others. Malice radiated in waves from the figured as it strode forward from the rest. She blinked a few times while the individual closed the distance between them, assessing every angle now that she could see.  

                She was surrounded. Every angle and every direction equaled more and more of the creatures. Their wolf mounts stood not too far away, fang riddled maws clacking. A very large, very hot fire roared in the center of what she figured to be their makeshift campsite. A roughly made cage rested upon the moist earth, hidden by shadows and tree cover.

                Blood spattered portions of the earth around her, white bones of animals strewn throughout the area and cast orange in the firelight. A few of the wolves gnawed upon them and Aria found her skin crawling at the sight. The creatures around her seemed far more advanced than the goblins down in the mountain but it didn’t aid her situation. They were evil and malicious.

                And they would kill her if she didn’t do anything.

                What could she do? There were many escape routes throughout the camp, but it was actually taking them and the process to prepare that would cost her. The creatures were armed greatly, sharp swords drawn or waiting within battered scabbards at their sides. Some held double headed axes, others with single heads strapped to nasty belts.

                The large figure moved again, casting itself in firelight. The quiet around her grew even more so as the creature regarded the girl upon the ground. It swiftly nodded and instantly, arms snaked their way under each of hers to bring her upright before the figure.

                Its skin glowed pale, scars carved deep into its face. It sported a sharp jaw cut to a blunt, square chin, a heavy brow hanging over gleaming eyes of ice blue. They narrowed her way, sparking in the flames of the fire. A wide bridge of a nose ran down to even wider nostrils. They flared, drinking in her scent. Pointed ears sprouted from a bald head, a thick neck and shoulders laced with even more scars cut even sharper than stone. It stood tall, much taller than any man she’d seen before in both worlds. Granted, she’d not seen any men in Middle Earth besides the elder in the goblin caves. The creature was male, she was sure of it; given the fact it only sported a simple cloth and belt around its hips. Thick thighs bulged from under the leather loin cloth, rough spun boots adorning massive feet.

What horrified her was the contraption hanging beside the leather slung upon his hips. Where a hand and wrist had been, a claw like object jutted from the gnarled stump. A sharp point thrust away from where it appeared to have been lanced by a third party. Corded muscles writhed under the pale dermis of his arms, long clawed fingers and a normal hand on the opposite appendage.

                It was malice incarnate, evil in its truest form. Gauging the gazes of its fellow comrades, or its servants, she gathered the sensation of arrogance and confidence to signal it was some kind of leader.  Besides fear, she wracked her brain for any sort of details she would know about him. She couldn’t recall her grandmother’s stories speaking of a pale figure or anything similar. Her mind was lost as to what she could do, or how she could escape. Fear she thought she’d left in the tunnels now gripped her heart in a vice. She was frozen with it, paralyzed to her very core.

                The large, massive chest of the creature heaved and a bellow escaped his maw. Fangs glowed in the firelight, shadows dancing across the gouges in his face as he shot orders to the creatures holding her. She was forced harshly to her knees before him. She hissed in pain as the white figure crouched down within inches of her face. She cut him a glare, but knew in an instant it wouldn’t affect him.

                He spoke again, to her this time. It was low, a deep growl that rattled her bones. She only glowered, eyes narrowed to him and ever watchful. A smirk revealed the fangs beneath his pale lips, sadistic joy fluttering within his ice blue eyes. As he drew closer, he reeked of death and decay. His breath brushed her cheeks, raping her nostrils with its foul stench.

                A large hand came to the back of her head, taking a fist full of hair and yanking it backward hard enough to where she feared her scalp to detach itself. She refrained from crying out in agony, feeling they would pleasure themselves in her screams. Instead, she whimpered silently as the creature leaned forward to plant his nose within the crook of her neck. She felt her skin crawling as his breath tickled the sensitive portion below her ear.

                He inhaled deeply. Her heart thudded in her temples, feeling the beast inhale her scent once again. She felt her eyes widen as something wet began to trail across the soft skin between her neck and shoulder. Perhaps it were blood, but the warmth of it felt off. It felt disgusting.

              It felt like his tongue.

                Tiny pinpricks suddenly shot pain through her. She gasped as it sank deeper like needles seeking a vein. She felt her whole body tense beneath it, her survival instincts screaming for her to wriggle and fight. Warmth slowly trickled down, captured by the nasty heat of his tongue that snaked against the skin of her clavicle.

He’d bitten her. There was not a doubt in her mind as to what he had done. The very thought caused her entire being to shiver.  She didn’t dare question why because she couldn’t care. The pain sliced through like a blood donation gone wrong and she felt her skin crawl against the unwarranted sensations. She was a bundle of fireworks, threatening to burst forth and explode. She shuddered, her nerves firing warning shots as she pressed down every urge to move deep inside her.

                A large, rough hand began to slide up the side of her sweatshirt, ghosting the skin encasing her ribs. The other hand joined on the others side, mimicking the same motion. She shuddered, her skin aflame with disgust and the need to flee. But, she dared not move lest she allow something even more horrid to happen to her. However, the hands soon found themselves near a spot she wished not to go any further. She’d had enough.

                In an instant, she shot upward against the restraints and thrust forward with a foot. Boot met skin as she pushed as hard as she could. The creature detached itself from her with a hiss of pain, jerking backward to crash onto his rear. She twisted violently against her restraints again, shocking the two other creatures that had held her still. They were torn from her and, instinctively, she placed her hand upon her heart. The pendant glowed beneath her fingers.

                Drayuik formed in a blink of white light, blinding all those around her. She didn’t hesitate to monitor the reactions of her enemies, however, swirling the blade around to slice the duo that had held her against her will. A few more followed, the sword cutting them down as they attempted to parry her blows. She roared angrily, blocking advances from even more creatures. Each blow landed caused her body to scream in pain, but she did her best to ignore it.

                She whirled around to stop another blow, only to find the claw of the white figure had blocked her attack. It clamped down like a vice upon her sword, ripping it from her hands. He was stronger, much stronger than she. His raw power wafted from him like fumes of gasoline, and she could feel it as he slung her blade away from her.

In the blink of an eye, she was thrust down upon the ground near the edge of the fire, the white beast pinning her against the moist earth. She was lucky the ground felt soft, the creature upon her weighing more than herself. Her breath left her lungs painfully, every wound she held screaming with hot agony. She could smell his horrid musk, her stomach convulsing.

He’d pinned her with an arm against her chest, two giant knees planting themselves on either side of her hips to keep her from squirming. He lowered his own pelvis into her, the pressure of him causing her to sink even further into the moist soil. She heard a groan deep and menacing against her own rib cage, heart thundering within her while she attempted to escape.

                She thrashed beneath him, the hulking creature taking both of her arms and pinning them beneath a large palm. She kicked violently as she could, but nothing seemed to affect the massive being pinning her with his pelvis. Fear spiked through her while she fought. She roared again, bucking her hips but realizing too late that it could affect him in the worst possible way. She couldn’t, to her horror, do anything. He was too heavy and far too powerful.

                She became hyper aware of the heat of the flames near her head. The fire snapped and crackled maliciously like a maw awaiting its dinner. She glanced to the side just as the white demon upon her lifted his clawed arm toward the flames. Dipping the metal shaft into the fire, she could only watch in horror as the evil being allowed the metal to become angry and red. She could only guess what was to come from the action.

                He withdrew his metallic arm, the metal glowing with ravenous heat.  He eased it toward her face, ice blue gaze wild with sadistic pleasure. She knew immediately there was no other way her situation would go. She couldn’t move or fight. It was just a matter of time as to where the scalding piece of metal would go.

                She swallowed a large lump in her throat. It was all she could do. She could hardly breathe, her life mere inches from extinguishing. She’d never, in her life, imagined it closing so quickly. She’d thought earlier that it could have happened, but she’d been faced with imminent darkness. She figured herself to starve and rot away in a pit full of death. A quick ending felt slightly different.

                The beast breathed words at her, thick and menacing. He growled, grinding into her. Pain coursed through the flesh of their adjoined hips, but she bid it no mind. Her focus lay upon the blazing poker inching nearer to her face. She felt its heat, her eyes watering with tears as it scorched the supple flesh of her cheeks. He breathed the words again, but she didn’t know their meaning. It seemed to anger him and the silence broke, erupting in hollers of his peers. Roars and clanging metal met her ears, sending jolts of fears to spike through her body.

                He pushed his metal arm forward, closer to her cheeks. She couldn’t move her arms, his large palm encompassing them with iron clad strength. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard she struggled, she simply could not break his hold. The poker landed upon her cheek and she finally had the excuse to scream.  

                Pain erupted through her veins as the sound tore from her throat. She felt the searing heat dig into her skin like a branding iron, sizzling as the flesh was cooked right under her eye. The agony her body as she fought against it. She lashed her legs about behind him, but it only seemed to push his body further into her. He trailed the hot metal toward her chin, the pain enveloping her entirely. Her vision blackened, spots forming in front of her eyes as the smell of her burnt flesh met her flared nostrils. Her stomach convulsed. She was cleaving in two.

                Suddenly, the monster jerked upward and the red hot metal lifting from her face. Through the spasms of pain, she heard roars of the unknown words. The beast atop her vibrated, his spoken dialect spewed like vomit from his maw. She thought she heard a name she knew, her lids heavy as she met the gaze of the creature atop her. He narrowed ice blues, claw hovering above her still glowing from the fire.

                He was contemplating her end, she could sense it.

                But, instead, he rose from her and stood. Adrenaline blazed within her body as she attempted to scramble away. Her cheek stung horribly, ever movement from the muscles within her face causing it to smart. She could only imagine what he’d done, knowing she needed to focus on how to get far from where she’d been. However, hands grabbed her harshly at the orders from the white beast. She was drug backwards as the thing called a white wolf to his side. He mounted, gazing back at the girl, before calling a few others to join him. In a breath, the party appeared to be fully mounted and flew away from the camp into the darkness of the wood.

The rough hands upon her arms pushed her mercilessly, her vision blurred once again due to the pain. She was thrust forward, pitching her forward and deposited upon a hard surface. She fell, her legs weak under her. Rough boards greeted her palms. She wished to wince in pain at the contact, but knew best not to. A loud metal clang met Aria’s ears, and she blinked at a worn wooden floor eye level with herself. Shaking her head as best she could, she shifted and turned to find bars of metal as high as the trees rising around her and sealing her inside. She sputtered; dirt spewing form her lips.

She was in a cage. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind. The bars were rusted, sprouting from around her. the ceiling above she could barely see, portions of it illuminated by the faint firelight. She felt every ounce of her being scream in pain while she remained prone, attempting to gather her thoughts as well as her strength as she lay there.

But, she knew she couldn’t remain still for long. An internal timer ticked away within her, reminding her that she needed to be elsewhere. If she stayed, the others would suffer. She could feel the constricting pressure upon her heart begin to intensify. With a hiss, she lifted herself upward to stand, grappling to steady herself upon the bars.

The cage overlooked the campsite, trees hugging either side. It was a massive containment object, spanning lengths she couldn’t fathom. Open sides with metal bars for walls served as the means to hold her. Peering out into the campsite through brick sized holes, she spotted the roaring fire and the space she’d been brutally molested. She hadn’t been dragged very far.

                It seemed she’d been spared for a time, the white creature having seen to it she wasn’t slaughtered on the spot. There had to be a reason, but she’d failed to figure that much out before the beast had flown from the campsite. If anything, it didn’t matter much as to why she’d been left to live. What truly mattered was that a door had been opened for her and she needed to plan on her escape before it slammed shut.

                She couldn’t stop her mind as it wondered, though. What has spurred the beast to leave? Why had it been so hurried? It had to mean something, but she couldn’t for the life of her understand. Were they hunting? Searching and scouring the slopes of the mountains for something or someone?

                Aria’s heart halted and she stiffened as a thought began to cloud her mind. Hadn’t her grandmother mentioned in the story about an ambush upon the mountain side? Hadn’t she spoken of something that almost turned the tides of their journey? If she wasn’t mistaken, she’d recognized a name among the rambling words she couldn’t understand. The sudden realization caused her blood to freeze. It had been the very company’s leader she’d been attempting to help.

 Thorin.

The bits of the story she’d forgotten came whirling back into her brain, and she cursed under her breath. A creature sitting near the fire glanced up, her eyes locking with it. With a snort, it returned its gaze to the flames and ignored her.

                They were searching for the dwarves. There wasn’t any other thing upon the mountain that would draw them away so quickly. If they sought Thorin, that meant they sought the brothers, Bilbo, and the rest of the company. A surge of fear engulfed her and she shook the bars of the cage with what little strength she had within her. A roar escaped her lips, tearing from her throat to like a piece of her.  The creature at the fire continued to ignore her and she realized just how idiotic her reaction actually appeared to be.

                She needed to think, not react. She knew her situation to be dire, but the very fact that she had been captured still caused her emotions to flare. What seemed worse was that she had been placed in an immobile spot and rendered useless to the company. The longer she remained, the worse their chances of survival were.

Aria was on her own, as well. She couldn’t expect anyone to save her. It hadn’t happened yet and she didn’t expect it to. Her situation was not something from a fairy tale, no knight in shining armor was to find her. Instead, she needed to carve her own path. Perhaps, that path was meant to save the company. As far as she was concerned, she felt her heart stick true to that.

Pushing off from the bars, she stumbled backward and turned from the opening. Her tired eyes scanned the interior of the cage for anything useful. The floor beneath her feet was bare and solid minus scuffs and scratches that gouged the hard material. She followed a few of the grooves toward the rear of the cage, thinking them simple spots worn into the timber from years of use. Eerily, it was cast in shadow, a sense of unease swooping inside her breast.

                She stepped forward, something hard crunching beneath her boots. Her eyes dropped down and she felt the color drain from her face. Her gaze then ran wildly across the outer reaches of the gloom in the rear of the cage, noticing similar objects as the one she’d cracked beneath her feet. Dark spots stained the hardened wood of the floor, the bile rising in her throat. The long gouges that ran spanned the ancient timber stretched into the darkness, white wood gleaming beneath. She shrank  against the bars, the metal digging into her skin.

                Bones. Dozens of bones peeped from the writing shadows before her, the deep cuts within the wood gleaming like angry claw marks. The dark stains she knew were none other than blood, but she wished she hadn’t guessed correctly. She’d seen stains similar to those, ages ago on some television show she’d watched. There was no mistaking the grim taint of the crimson liquid after it had been spilled.

                She felt her breath halt as something suddenly shifted in the shadows. She could hear course respiration, puffs of steam shooting from deep within the gloom. She starred into the inky black, blinking against the throbbing pain in her cheek. The cage shook, violent vibrations sending jolts of horror down her spine. Gooseflesh rose upon her tainted skin, sending her heart into overdrive. She recoiled, pressing herself against the door of the cage. Something chortled behind her and she gave the noise sidelong glance. One of the creatures knew something she didn’t and, at that moment, she really wished she could understand them.

                Tremors shook the cage once more, the girl gripping the bars behind her until her fingers were numb. A rumble vibrated the metal, permeating the darkness. A loud thump sent shivers through her spine as it pressed firmer against the door of the cage. It rattled, sending bones to scurry across the floor toward her. Another thump followed the first. Then, another. The rumble transformed into a snarl, splitting the darkness in two and rendering her frozen with fear. Her heart raced, thundering loudly against her breast plate. She inhaled sharply, attempting to make herself as small as possible.

Then, the shadows parted and a paw parted from the dark. It was large, claws of ebony gripping the  worn wood of the floor. Aria felt her skin crawl, recognizing the razors that had dealt the blow to the hard flooring of the cage. She could only imagine what it would do to flesh if allowed. But, she didn’t dare. She couldn’t. Another paw followed,  and even more began to split from the inky darkness. The fur cloaking the hard tendons and muscles of the arms that followed glinted the deepest of darkness in the firelight.  

Still, more of the creature came. Piercing teal orbs cleaved the gloom. A glint of pearl caught the fire’s light, saliva pooling at its feet as it pressed forward. Following the arm was a snout. The shining black of the nose blended well against the inky darkness of the fur as the snout pointed toward her. A white scar shone starkly against the dark fur of its eye, a stark contrast to the deep black of its hide. Nostrils flared, inhaling her fear as it radiated in waves through the cage, sharp ears pointed forward to capture the thundering of her heart.

She was a hare caught by the wolf, shivering under its steeled gaze. If she were the actual animal, she could only image what was to come after. If she didn’t die by its fangs, she would have died of a heart attack. Yet, she remained before it as it slowly stepped forward.

Then, the thing halted, glaring daggers her way. Its large forehead lifted, eyes almost level with hers. She shrunk under its teal gaze, the bars of the cage digging into her spine. She didn’t feel the bite, however. The thing before her would do more harm to her than simple metal could.

For a moment, the monster contemplated her. Its gaze traveled across her and she reemphasized the sensation of a hare caught in a trap. Was it sizing up its next meal, thinking through the best possible ways it could consume her? Did it happen to prefer a certain portion of her body than others, or did it happen to eat beings like her whole?

Aria didn’t know.  All she did know in that moment was the very thread of her life hung against the sharp edge of a blade. It dangled there, inches from her face and centimeters from being sliced. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t think. She was simply the rabbit waiting for the predator to pounce.

All she knew was that it better like its meat tough.

Chapter Text

Tane- The Forgotten One

“his old life lay behind in the mists, dark adventure lay in front.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

There was a sound of choked cackling erupting behind her. Her heart leapt into her chest, the heavy weight of the animal’s gaze directly ahead and burning into her like the white beast had done earlier. She was pinned, unable to move for fear if she did and what it would do. The thing tensed, its bundles of sleek muscle and power radiating malice. Or was she mistaken?

Another bout of cackling came from behind, drawing closer to the cage. Aria couldn’t see them, but she’d known their intent. They were watching the predator with its prey in hopes to receive some sort of entertainment. Aria would not dare give them any, but the beast in front to her could possibly have other ideas. She wasn’t keen on discovering them, but she could assume the worst.

They had placed her in there as food.

Behind her, the duo continued their guffawing like a couple of hens. She felt the shift of the air at their approach, the sound of heavy boots upon the ground indicated their approach.  A sudden nasty, warm breath brushing against the shell of her ear and she shivered. The movement caught the attention of the beast before her, its eyes shifting upward, a gleam of hatred spearing the air. Something brushed her hair, something hideous akin to a finger, and she chose to jerk then. This seemed to cause another spike in the atmosphere.

A sensation of loathing flowed around her. It dripped from the bars of the cage and slathered upon her skin like butter. She stiffened at the fingers of whatever stood behind her twirling into the stiff strands of her hair. She wanted to break free of it, but fear paralyzed her against the bars of the cage. The beast before her would likely recognized her movements as fleeting, its instincts devouring it. She knew that in one, swift move, she would perish in its jaws.

But, again, the creature had other plans.

Suddenly, the creature rushed forward. Aria’s body moved on its own, dipping beneath the thing as it slammed into the door. Snarls and claws ripped at the metal gate, the girl scooting from under the beast to a less compromising position. The creature’s large body bashed against the side opposite her as it roared at the thing on the others side. She quickly moved again as the  wolf like beast thrashed, lilting to the side and bashing into the area she’d just vacated.  

The creature outside the bars yelled in its dark tongue, anger flashing across its beady eyes. Its comrade flew to its side, bringing with it a sharp spear. This it stuck through the bars of the cage, thrusting the point at the beast clawing upon the metal door. The clang of the bars from its attacks were deafening, vibrations shooting up Aria’s spine. She felt her stomach clench, heart pounding painfully.

Suddenly, the beast howled. It was a blood curdling, painful sound that cleaved Aria’s soul. She could feel the agony upon the air just as one of the creatures outside thrust the spear into the beast’s shoulder. The tang of blood arose upon the air and Aria shook her head against its nasty aroma. She’d smelled too much of it recently, the entire thing causing her insides to lurch horribly.

 Yet, she couldn’t shake the hurt she felt. It wasn’t hers, she had her own wounds she brandished. This pain was phantom, a ghost upon her skin that lingered there menacingly. She clutched at her shoulder where it stung the worst and lifted her wild eyes up.

The beast whimpered and snarled, snapping its jaws at its attackers. The duo outside the cage seemed to find pleasure in the beast’s agony, blades of their crude swords slicing the tender flesh of the animal with even more vigor than before. Pools of its blood spilled upon the hard wood floor, splattering upon her cheeks. Aria could feel every fissure of flesh open upon her own and every bite of the rusted metal, the pain growing even more agonizing with every second. She wanted to scream for them to stop, realizing she could spur on even more pain than before.  

An overwhelming sensation engulfed her. It fluttered through her heart, igniting a flame deep within. As if done so by another force, her vision suddenly shifted from the darkness around her to a brightness that could have blinded her. Swirling images of vibrant green valleys and animals began to flip through her vison like a motion picture . Her dream state surrounded her, her skin basking in the buttery light of the sun. She inhaled the sweet scent of pines and earth, the green of the grass tinged blue with sparkling dew drops.

Help him. A voice echoed. Help him before it’s too late.

The voice had been sweet and desperate, begging her to do something. What could she do, though? She wasn’t a fighter. She’d never wielded any weapon prior to that night. She’d been lacerated and upended, sent into a darkness she’d only dreamt of in nightmares. But, what she’d realized was that she could fight. She could defend herself and others. She’d done so in the most recent hours, proving to herself that she could endure the worst.

But, saving the creature before her that was not entirely and “it” but a “him” seemed to floor her. She’d no weapon upon her. Held no sword nor a bow, and she couldn’t think of what could possibly helpful against two larger creatures that feasted upon bloodshed. They took pleasure in the wrecking and ripping of the weak, devouring the good souls that trekked upon the world. They were evil and they would never stop.

She’d felled some. Aria of Earth had slain the foul creatures that threatened her life as well as strangers she didn’t even know. Even if she did, she would have done what she’d done ten-fold without a hint of hesitation. Would she choose to endure the darkness all over again? No. But she would fight the throngs of goblins she’d already dove through.

What about this creature seemed different? Why had the voice inside her head told her to save him? Who was the being who belonged to the voice anyway?

Aria was suddenly and hurriedly thrust back into reality just as the beast’s attackers speared the flesh of its shoulder again. It wailed in agony, rage filling its booming roar with dripping pain and loathing. That same anger flared within her, the flames she’d felt earlier igniting and burning brighter. Whatever they were doing, and whatever the wolf creature before her was, she couldn’t allow them to continue. But, she was powerless. Her sword had been ripped out of her hands to who knew where.

Still, her eyes fell to the floor for anything she could use to stop their attacks. She skimmed the plethora of bones at her feet, eyes finding a large femur inches from her hand. With the quickness of a snake striking prey, her fingers wrapped around the solid object and she lifted it. She surged upon her knees and crawled, rushing forward to get herself between the beast and its assailants. She shouldered through its front paws, rising to glare at the attackers with enraged eyes.

The two creatures on the other side blinked back, flummoxed. The sword and spear they held within their hands were caked in the blood of the beast behind her. This seemed to infuriate her more and, though every ounce of her felt on fire, she scrunched up her expression to seem feral. She cut the tension with her own body, using herself to stave off anything else. She wasn’t sure what compelled her to become a blockade, but the others seemed to halt.

Silence fell among them immediately, only the roar of the fire behind the creatures broke the thick quiet. She felt the beast receding into the shadows behind her. The weight of it gaze fell heavy upon her nape, shivers running down the length of her spine. However, she ignored it. She couldn’t think deeply upon something she was trying to protect. Its attitude, his attitude, couldn’t affect her in that moment.

The accosters recovered from their shock in a moment’s time. Something jangled quickly, and the door flew open before her. She retreated, the warm breath of the beast reminding her how dire her situation had gotten. Brandishing the bone before her like a weapon, she braced herself for any sort of oncoming blow. One creature rushed into the cage, thrusting its spear into her face.

There were times Aria had imagined her demise. She’d dreamt of it numerous instances that day alone. But, once again, Aria found her mind lingering there. She’d never figured it to be between a rock and a hard place, between both a malic in front and behind. Since she’d arrived in Middle Earth, she’d only been faced with danger head on. And even though she fought to keep harm from occurring to the wolf-like creature behind her, she couldn’t help but feel herself only fending off the least of her worries.

 The ugly face of her assailant contorted with anger, beady eyes glinting as it retracted its weapon. Blackened fangs spewed words she still didn’t understand. Spittle formed on its disgusting lips, running down the length of its blunt chin. The beast behind her growled low but she focused upon the thing ahead, holding the giant femur up like a shield. She couldn’t defend herself from both, wondering which would decide to strike first. She would fight no matter what because that seemed to be what had settled inside her head that day.  Deep inside, however, she hoped against hope the dwarves had made it far past their oncoming enemies that had departed the camp moments before. She only wished she would have been able to help them.

With wild eyes, she roared along with the creature before her. The femur shook in her hands, the shaft of the spear coming down upon the thick bone. This occurred again and again, Aria’s make-shift protection beginning to splinter. With abandon, she thrust it again and again in front of her. Occasionally, the creature would attempt to use its sword. The constant berating upon the surface of her shield soon took its toll. Various cracks and shards of bone had been hacked loose from the femur, the threat of it crumbling all together imminent.

Pain split through her hand as another blow brought forth what she’d feared. The femur itself fell in shatters upon the wooden floor of the cage, clattering across the pools of blood. She didn’t have time to turn and find another one, the beast behind her still breathing heavily against her shoulder blades. She wasn’t sure why it remained in shadow, but at that moment she couldn’t care.

With narrowed eyes of loathing, she straitened herself. Her enemy’s eyes twinkled as best as they could, indicating the sudden shifting in dynamic. It had won. She no longer held onto something she could use against it. She spotted its grimy fingers tightening around the worn shaft of the spear, unleashed energy to thrust it forward tickling the brim. Its excitement to end her was apparent. She knew the types, had watched them on the television. It seemed they sadistic side of a human didn’t fall far from these creatures.

It would enjoy watching her bleed, as would the others who she’d encountered before. For a brief moment, she wondered if she were to perish within the cage. She pondered on the white beast she’d seen atop the white wolf. Had he issued her death within the cages? If anything, they would have figured her for dead at the fangs of the animal behind her.

                Closing her eyes, she squared her shoulders and ignored the bile bubbling in her belly. A lump in her throat formed, tears brimming at the corner of her eyes. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream out for them to end her. Again, she recalled how much she’d seen and how much horror had been dealt to her. No one could ever live past the visceral images still burned within her brain.

                And again, she was reminded of how far she’d come. She had gone to the greatest lengths in order to help the others. If the stories her grandmother had told her were to come to pass just as they had done already, then they would make it to their mountainside without her help. But the impending doom of the white beast and his cronies only caused her heart to clench painfully.

                So, Aria Jackson stood her ground once more. She’d fight and die fighting, no matter what would occur and what fate had in store for her. She would stand tall, or as tall as her fatigued body would allow, and remain there until she had slain her enemy or they cut her down. She’d seen too much and had been through even more. She wouldn’t die a pitiful death.

                She slid her eyes closed and waited.

Death did not come, however. Tremors coursed through the wooden floor of the cage, shooting up through her veins and igniting within her heart. A gust of air with the scent of pine upon it whisked her hair from her shoulders. A sudden force slammed her against the walls of the cage, knocking the wind from her lungs. The bars bit painfully into her ribcage, her eyes flying open as she did her best to bite back a cry of pain.

The animal had broken free of its confines in a flash of ebony fur. Pearly fangs flashed with the speed of a hummingbird, sinking deep in the neck of the creature who’d previously been inches from ending her life. It choked a vain cry of agony as its black blood spurted from its neck and pooled upon the earth. The black beast lifted the assailant in his powerful jaws, the tips of the enemy’s toes inches from the ground, and slung  it to the side with ease. Its body flopped like a fish upon the soil, rolling to a stop where it remained motionless.

To be honest with herself, Aria was not shocked the creature had blasted from its prison. She didn’t blame it nor did she wish to remain while it took out its frustrations upon the enemy. She had to move lest she stay and allow horrid things to happen to the company. She’d been given another chance, another moment to move and press forward. She wasn’t going to waste it by remaining still in shock. There would be other times for such trivialities.

In an instant, Aria gripped the edges of the cage and lifted herself up on shaking legs. Her body felt spent, sore and tire. Even so, her mind began to push through the goring pain and focus on anything to get her mind from it. Her gaze fell past the wolf creature and to the camp beyond, scanning for anything she could use to escape now that the cage was open. There were no other mounts left, the weapons bundled into one corner for proper monitoring. There were various other things scattered about, that of which she couldn’t divulge the purpose for. She only assumed them to be personal items.

Another screech brought Aria’s eyes to the battle afoot. The wolf had found the other assailant attempting to fight for its life. The black wolf eased forward, his movements slow and measured. He appeared akin to a cat stalking its prey. Each maneuver had been calculated, each breath strategically deciphered. His hackles glinted in the firelight, shadows casting a sinister gleam in the teal eyes of the beast. Saliva sparked from his maw, mingling with the black blood to drip upon his large paws. The second creature fumbled with a sword, trying with all its might to defend itself.

But, it did so in vain. The wolf leapt across the distance between them, landing upon the unprepared creature in a matter of seconds. The enemy shrieked horribly, the sound piercing through the forest. Aria had never heard such a sound before, din causing her head to split with pain. Then, in an instant, it halted only to be followed by a nasty crunch. It unnerved the girl, but she continued on with her mission.

She moved immediately and swiftly, hoping the black wolf to be too occupied by its other prey to focus upon her. Her eyes darted all around for any sign of a weapon. Without her pendant, she needed something to defend herself. She felt vulnerable and almost naked without the sword now. If anything, she was a sitting duck awaiting another enemy to come and attempt to end her.  

Despite the building panic with in her breast and the pain biting through her, a new energy ignited her limbs. This sudden sensation blasted through her like a gasoline fueled flame, her body bursting forward with the speed of an antelope. She was unused to the pull she felt upon her heart and aiding in driving her forward, but didn’t bother lingering upon its source for too long. The need to act, to run, to flee engulfed her as one would be engulfed by water in a pool. She was drowning in the want for a better location. Anything was better than where she was now.  

Something glinted in the corner of her eye; she halted her trajectory. She turned toward where she believed it to have been, but nothing appeared. Narrowing her gaze, she tried again. It was to no avail. A tiny bit of hope bloomed at the prospect of finding what she needed. She knew exactly what the shine had been. It was calling for her.

Her eyes  fell to the ground, sweeping desperately back and forth to catch the glow once again. She came upon the body of first assailant sprawled upon the earth, black blood splattered across its nasty face. It was a morbid scene, but one she’d witnessed countless times before. she’d been hardened to such a visage and only had to steel herself against the initial revolt within her gut to move forward.

But, perhaps what caused her heart to skip was the sudden glint she caught before turning away from the corpse. She eyed the dead creature again, knowing the slain being to not be made of gold or silver. Soon, her eyes were met with a luminescent glow that pierced through the thick layer of its armor.

Scurrying over with hope at the back of her throat, she bent down. There is where she spotted her pendent tucked beneath a tattered cloth slung around the dead creature’s neck. Stifling a huff of joy threatening to escape from her blood crusted lips, she reached forward to grasp it. Its glow split through the dark cloth, her fingers wrapping around its warmth. She disregarded any doubt she’d had of finding the weapon, detaching the pendent carefully from the creature’s cold neck.

She was very lucky in that moment and she hoped her luck wouldn’t run out.

With her pendent successfully acquired, she set her sights upon finding another weapon. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her sword, but the fact that she needed something for ranged fighting still held council within her brain. She’d had a bow and arrows before, the security of having another way of protecting herself being what kept her moving forward with more confidence than she’d had earlier. It wouldn’t hurt to have one, she thought. She was experienced with them and even more so over a sword. It was better to be safe and secure than sorry.

He eyes once again began to sweep across the camp. If she’d been correct in noticing the weaponry of her enemies, she recalled those carrying bow and the others carrying swords. She wasn’t sure how many held onto each, but she’d noted that at least some held the ranged weapon she needed.

To her excitement, and her relief, she found one tasseled upon the ground. The quiver lay not too far away, arrows strewn upon the soil as if the owner had been disrupted in haste. She was thankful for the creatures’ inability to remain organized. She’d noted that previously as well. They’d left in a hurry as well as leaving things sprawled about without a care in the world.

As for the bow and arrows she’d located, she was sure the weapon had been knocked to the side in the scuffle earlier. Forgotten like many others things in the camp. Almost like she would have been if the horrid beasts had not opened the cage and almost like the bones that had been scattered upon the wooden floor.

Dashing the annoying recollections from her mind, Aria’s bent herself over and felt her fingers wrap around the battered wood of the bow. It was aged but the string felt taut beneath her palm, her heart easing its madness for a moment to recognize that tiny detail. She quickly collected the strewn arrows until the quiver felt heavy with them, dark leather and buckles gleaming in the firelight. She slung each over her shoulder, relishing in the addition of another weapon.

As the girl straitened, she sucked in a breath. Blinking, she realized the campsite lay empty. She stiffened, recognizing the wolf had gone too. For a moment, she was thankful it had been freed. She comprehended the actions he had done as not being aggressive toward her. He hadn’t tried to slaughter her right then and there, and in a way, he had aided her in removing the obstacles that threatened both of their lives. She wondered for a moment if the two at the campfire, the nasty beings that had poked it and prodded the wolf, had done so various times before. It was not a surprise that the beast had reacted the way he did. Any animal purposefully and consistently treated horribly would one day find a means to end that suffering. Some bent to the will of whoever caused the pain in hopes it would satisfy the brandisher, but she knew that giant wolf had only been biding his time. She hoped, after their prison break, he strayed far away from the company and its companions and found greener pastures at safer distances. The thought alone brought a sting of tears to her eyes. She only hoped it found solace elsewhere, knowing her battle had not been in vain and her struggle was not ill assimilated.

A warm gust of air tickled her ears, a hand reaching up to brush back the nasty tendrils of her hair from them. Thinking it to be a breeze sending the heat of the flames upon her, Aria ignored it and busied herself by placing the pendent over her neck and safely where she’d stored it before. she assessed herself another time, finding that she possibly needed to gather other things for her journey. But, if she did that she wouldn’t have time to find the others. This thought left her at a standstill, caught in a web of uncertainty in which she either needed to move or stay. Either way could become disastrous.

Another gust of warm air hit her again, this time accompanied by a growl. 

Her heart leapt to her throat, pounding inside her heat painfully like a blacksmith with a hammer upon metal. Her breath became shallow, her mind fearful of moving too fast suddenly. She wasn’t sure what compelled her to become one with the static trees, but she felt if she moved an inch that it would end her.

Another growl vibrated the air, horror arising like smoke from a fire. It rumbled behind her, the source closer than she figured it to be. She had an idea of what the source could be, but she wished with all her might to be wrong. Aria wasn’t stupid or dense, her gut informing her that the being that growled behind her was not just some trick of the air or anything else. It was, in fact, what she’d hoped had been long gone moments before.

The scent of blood reached her nostrils, the normal copper tang mingling with a scent she’d smelled but couldn’t recognize. It held tones of what covered her body and what she’d scented in the deep pit in the mountain. Another scent, Earth and pine, wafted through the air. The smoke of the fire swirled around the camp, her nostrils flaring to fill them with the aroma.  

Beyond her better judgement, she couldn’t stay in the same spot for long. She was running out of time. So, Aria did what she didn’t want to do. Using her feet, she swiveled slowly to meet whatever had sent the growl behind her. She could feel her entire being wishing to flee, to fly as far as she could in order to protect herself.

But, she recalled that the animal she knew the sound to belong to had not shown her aggravation. He had not tried to slaughter her and, in a way, he had kept her from dying at the hands of the creatures he’d had slain earlier. He’d been an abused beast only willing to spring from his hold to put down his enemy and flee as far away as possible.

But, Aria had only been assuming the creature didn’t want to hurt her. Perhaps he’d changed his mind. In a way, it didn’t surprise her. She was no ally to him and even though she’d done her best to place herself between the two warring sides, maybe the giant wolf wasn’t one to allow such a thing. Aria remembered she was in a new world and, knowing not the cultures of other things and knowing more of the actions of wild animals, she felt that she’d done something she shouldn’t have.

She felt her interior scream as her eyes the sharp teal of its gaze as it cut through the shadows cast by the firelight. It flickered within the depths, fear growing with the bile bubbling inside her. They remained static for what seemed like eons, each gazing into the others eyes. Was the beast waiting on her to flee, or was it planning something else? Aria wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she’d started to slink away from the creature and step backward in retreat. Perhaps he would allow her leave if she proved to be docile.

She gasped low as something solid pressed against the quiver upon her back. The cold of the buckles stabbed her skin uncomfortably, her eyes growing wild and heart beating horribly against her breast plate. She felt the squelch of the leather as she continued to push herself into the tree, her palms stinging with sharp jabs of bark that were driven into her flesh.

“Please…” She whispered. She wasn’t one to beg for her life, but the words escaped her nonetheless. At that moment, she’d been through too much and had seen more than her fair share of death. She’d welcome  it, but she was tired. She was tire of everything wishing to end her. All she wished to do was aid the company and see them to a safe path. She’d given herself that mission, bestowed it like one would give a quest to another. If by arriving in this God forsaken new world were to reap anything, perhaps saving the others would be her purpose.

The wolf halted, heavy breath hitching. He seemed confused, taken aback by the sound of her voice so suddenly. Maybe he assumed a creature like her couldn’t talk. His pointed ears flattened, however, and he shook his head. Was he possibly driving away things from its mind, or something else? Aria wasn’t sure and she didn’t care. The air shifted, however, and she felt something akin to what she’d felt earlier in the cage washing over her frame. The warm, almost secure feeling that had bid her to save the creature seemed to press into her once more. A sensation or two of recognition filled her mind like information from a news article. 

This creature was unlike the throng of those used the nasty beasts from earlier had used as mounts. He wasn’t mindless or filled with a lust for killing things. He had defended himself, eradicating all who posed a threat to him.  And yet, something deeper hung behind the teal eyes as they cast themselves in shadow. Something darker. She saw the scars riddling his skin, noted the matted and blood soaked fur upon his shoulders from his prior assailants. There was a history there she couldn’t fathom.  

Suddenly, like flood gates being opened, Aria felt despair so thick she gasped. Waves of it crashed against her psyche, sending her heart to ache painfully. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes while the sense of depression so large seemed to press down upon her. The creature knew pain, it knew how close his life had been to ending various times. He knew nothing of emotions or any sort of affection. He had always been thrust into a dark cage and left to die, fed minimal scraps to sustain him.

Aria knew this well for she had seen it through her own eyes.

The wolf had been abused. Like a dog with a horrid owner, spavined and skeletal. Whatever reason he was there for, she couldn’t comprehend. Instead, all she knew was its pain. All she could feel was that he had never been truly treated as a mindful being. He was sentient and, from what she could fathom, he was intelligent as well. But, no one around him cared.

The beast stepped closed within inches of Aria’s face. His black, dry nostrils flared to inhale her scent. Within his wide teal gaze, she could see the past. She could sense why he’d been dealt the heavy blow of abuse and neglect. He was a different type. He wasn’t like the other and he had paid dearly for it.

She couldn’t help feel some sort of unspoken connection. Perhaps all beings tied to that treatment felt that way. She knew what it felt like to be regarded as filth or ignored. She’d been shown love before only to have it taken away by death. For ages, she desired she could die. There were times when she wished to take it upon herself and meet the great reaper by her own hand. But, something kept her from it. Something she didn’t know stilled her hand.

Even so, it didn’t quell the thought that she shared something similar with the beast. They were, without a doubt, survivors of the same kind.

Aria’s body moved on its own, her hand rising from where it remained pressed into the sharp bark of the tree. She hovered it above the beast forehead, eyes trained upon him and his actions. The pointed ears flattened against the planes of his skull, gaze distrustful and warry. She didn’t blame him, though. She would do the same thing. For some reason, she wanted to show the beast that he was not going to be harmed by her in any shape or form.

Slowly, as not to cause any sort of panic from the wolf, she placed her hand upon the course fur of its temple. A groan sent vibrations through her fingertips; the creature’s eyes sliding shut. A scar struck through the hair there, causing the hair there to twist oddly. The warmth of the beast’s skin flowed through her palm, shooting down through her veins as she began to run her fingers through the fur of its cheek. This caused another groan, a clear sign he had been starved of such warmth.

She continued to stroke his head, her fingers fanning the span of his temple to his crest. She trailed them across the scars there, learning them. The sorrow and despair akin to a shower of boulders crashed into her. She gasped sharply, flashes of his past life swirling like a whirlpool within her brain. Her hand halted upon the  hallow between his eyes, her own gaze finding the darkness and shadows of his horrid life within his teal orbs.

Years of lashes and pain burned there, eons of being forced to perform tasks unwarranted and vial flashing like lightning against the dilated pupils. He was an ancient beast, a pedigree running deeper than the most ageless lines on Earth. He had been esteemed as the greatest of his age, a leader and king among his people. But, the evil she’d been accosted had desecrated the wolf’s home. They’d demolished his kind and driven those who didn’t fight into serving them. He’d fought them, sacrificing himself for the betterment of his people. She could see how his family slowly succumbed to the years of servitude, a flaming eye almost blinding her.

She gasped, her mind reeling. Something far darker belonged to that eye. It was powerful, all seeing and dripping with malic. A history far deeper than she knew ran like a river across time and space. In that time a space, things far bloodier that she could fathom flipped through like a motion picture across her mind’s eye. She saw many forms and figures, various shapes and colors, and fire. Everything became wreathed in fire. Then, blackness. A deep, darkness blanketed the world and feelings of hopelessness bathed her insides with dread. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes, her lashes fluttering across her cheeks as she blinked them.

The creature had seen this as well, knowing all too well the darkness that had plagued his people and him for centuries it seemed. Yet, he remained alive. He stood when others of his kind had perished. He wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t sure if it were to prove a point, or if it were out of spite. All he knew was that when his family had been slain, he watched their blood spill upon the soil and he’d remained.

A lust for vengeance born from the countless scars and death arose, spurring the inferno of madness and anger she now saw behind his wild eyes. He stood there before her, blinking at the human that had protected him. Yet, she could feel his confusion. Nothing could sate his anger, she knew this. But, at least she could try.  He needed to be heard. He needed to be understood.

He needed to be free of his pain.

Immediately, her mind fluttered to images of her. As if scented by her own nostrils, an immediate flash of anger swelled within her breast. He’d thought her one of them and the very reason he loathed as deep as he did. But, then, she’d proven to him that she was not one. She was human in all of her flawed perfection.

 She then saw her antics within the cage as he would have viewed her. She saw the fear she’d felt as plain as day flash across her face, a feeling of unease spreading over her. He’d felt pity, knowing what his duty could have been. But, she’d protected him. She’d done something no one had ever done for him before. This seemed to cause the wolf pause. This had stayed his fangs.

Perhaps, in his mind, she was far different than what he’d first thought. She felt the sensation of anger ease within him as she’d continued to keep him from harm. She’s stopped the poking and prodding, the pain all but numb to him now. She’d shown him that not everything was as horrible as it had been.

Aria inhaled, her lungs aching, reality returning to her like ice water dumped upon her head. She dropped her hands, the creature jerking at the sudden change in action. Immediately, its sharp ears pricked forward. Aria felt her heart rate increase, knowing her time to be running short. If anything, she was lucky to still be alive. But, she couldn’t help but sense something had shifted slightly. A small, almost minute feeling but one she could almost touch nonetheless.

The deep anger she’d detected from it peeled away, another emotion beginning to take its place. The beast no longer labored to keep itself from hate, allowing the feelings to fly high and dissipate upon the wind. Perhaps it had been a simple touch, the warmth of  her fingers drawing the seething hate from his very bones. She wasn’t sure she held that kind of power. But, the wolf felt different.

Aria returned the wolf’s intense gaze. His eyes narrowed to slits, the gleam within the teal orbs sparking with uncertainty once again. She needed to do something before her time ran out. A ticking clock in the back of her head indicated she’d overstayed some sort of welcome. She was playing a dangerous game and its hourglass held very little sand.

Help him. The voice she’d heard earlier spoke again. It was sweet but demanding and the girl gasped. Save him.

What did it want her to do? She wasn’t sure she’s been spared. The wolf regarded her with contempt, but it stayed its fangs. A thin line spread between them, each moment she released a breath seeming to be a sharp blade threatening to cut the string. But, if she tread with certainty ahead, perhaps she’d be kept alive. There was little choice in the matter if she wanted to keep breathing.

Maybe, by understanding the creature as Aria thought she’d done, that was what the voice wanted.

She stepped forward.

 “I’ve seen your past.” Her voice was foreign to her almost as if she had not the one speaking. “I know what they did to you.”

The wolf stepped back as if understanding her words. Or maybe, he understood her thoughts. Either way, she wasn’t sure. There were many things she questioned doing, reaching out to the animal before her being one of them. To have the beast  understand her thoughts should have not been a surprise. Still, she couldn’t quell the sudden unease of the situation. No matter what she’d aided with, the wolf could still end her with one clench of his powerful jaws.

“I’m sorry,” She told him. “I’m sorry for what was done to you. I am sorry for the pain and the anger you feel.”

The wolf’s eyes grew wide, sparking in the light of the fire. Shock read plain within them, and she gave him a smile.

“I’ve been through the same agony before,” She stated, “I have seen the darkness as well and I know what you feel. But, it’s okay. You are free now. You are free to go and find your place again.”

The wolf blinked, eyes wild. The teal sparked in the firelight, flickering shadows glinting from his ebony fur. The air remained quiet minus the crackling of the inferno behind his haunches. The trees even stilled their whispering, a tense audience awaiting the verdict of what they were witnessing. She, too, couldn’t deny the sensation of her nerves as they heated and pulse with anxiety.

“I have to go now,” The statement came as more of a question than a statement. “I’ve got to go find my friends and help them from the others. They want to kill them. I can’t let that happen.”

The wolf blinked. Even more silence fell between them and Aria quelled the urge to just flee. Once again, her time was running out. The company would soon find the doom that came their way and she wouldn’t be there to warn them. With how much time had passed since the white beast had left, she was sure the dwarves had been found. And Bilbo? She couldn’t imagine what had happened to him. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as his face showed within her mind.

She looked away, tears threatening to fall once more.

Movement signified the wolf had remained and she blinked. She’d thought he’d go and leave her alone. He’d been given his freedom, but why did he still remain? Aria couldn’t care unless the beast planned on ending her. Somehow, that didn’t appear to be the case. But, it didn’t answer why he remained before her.

She felt the wolf step forward, something solid entering her peripherals.  She heard his breath and felt its warmth upon her cheeks as her gaze lifted to meet his. For the first time since they’d met, she found understanding within them. This beast no longer felt anger and pain, that was sure. But, he also suddenly seemed concerned. She was thankful he’d chosen not to kill her, but she was concern as to why he still stood there.

The wolf stepped forward, growing even closer than before. He was millimeters from her face, warmth encompassing the chill and driving it from her skin. He was large, as towering as a bear if not larger. Grizzly bears back on Earth would have cowered in the presence of such a beast. She, too, felt herself cower slightly. But her stubbornness kept if from showing upon her features no matter how hard the task seemed to be.

Something else seemed to spread across the deep teal gaze the wolf pinned her with. The dark pupils were large, spanning almost the width of his vibrant irises. Emotions ran rampant, loosening the tension he felt and allowing something other than hate to spill. She recognized, and felt, admiration and respect. She wasn’t sure why or toward whom, but it spread warm like butter across her skin.

Then, the wolf pressed his muzzle against her cheek. The very cheek that still seared in pain, the brand that had been left by that horrid monster she’d been accosted by. She winced as the warmth spread through her entire being, calming her erratic heartbeat and slowing her breaths.  For a moment, Aria remained still. She no longer felt the pain within her cheek nor did she feel the pain anywhere else. The heat of him pressed into her warry bones and allowed respite.

Then, he backed away.

You are a long way from home. A deep baritone fluttered inside her mind. It felt like a though, flitting through like a bird. But, it didn’t belong to her.

She blinked. The words had flickered like a flame in a breeze, causing her breath to hitch. Had he spoken to her? Had she heard him correctly? At that point, she didn’t doubt it. She’d heard and seen too much to begin doing such a thing. Yet, she couldn’t help feeling the spike of surprise.

You are not from here. The voice said again. I have not seen the likes of you. You are no goblin or orc even though you smell as such.

She shook her head despite the crimson flags of warning whipping within her. Hesitantly, she replied in her own voice, feeling ridiculous if speaking to nothing in particular.

If she chose not to answer, she feared she would anger him. She wasn’t sure how he spoke to her and felt shock at how crisp the words formed within her brain. She’d been correct in realizing his drastic variation from the others. If they spoke, she couldn’t hear the other creatures. How their riders controlled the wolf like beasts was beyond her. But,  she only hear the one standing in front of her. He was wise and he was ancient. Those two in tandem sowed the seeds of intelligence and the beast’s ability to speak should not have surprised her.

Yet, it did.

"Yes. I am far, far from it." She whispered. The wolf's ears twitched, catching the loss within her words. He seemed calm, pity swarming within his teal gaze. 

Do you slay goblins, Little Cub?  He quirked a hairy brow, choosing another subject. She noted this, finding it odd but somewhat alluring. Was the subject of home too painful for him as well?  You reek of their deaths.

“I didn't chose the trade willingly,” She lifted her chin, her heart thundering in her chest. She’d never imagined speaking with an animal. “It’s purely out of defense. I may have fallen into a pit full of their dead.”

That would explain the blood that coats you. The wolf’s eyes sparkled. Is it custom for your kind to bathe in it in the blood of your enemies?

Was it joking with her? The tone seemed light, a hint of playfully mockery within the syllables. The entire exchanged felt deeper, far more so than any conversation she had outside of her mind. It felt raw, every emotion exposed.

“No,” She huffed. “It wasn’t my first choice of attire.”

Your attire is odd, but so are you. You’re a daughter of Man. He told her, eyes doused with a look set far away. I have seen you. 

“You have seen me?” The girl felt a sudden need to back away, her heart aching to flee. “No one knows me.”

The Giver of Fruits spoke of you to me. In my dreams. The wolf replied, noticing her sudden change in attitude. She said you would come to aid me in my time of need. There is no need to fear.

Aria was keen not to trust the word, but her curiosity peaked. “Who is the Giver of Fruits?”

You do not know? The wolf’s tone indicated shock. Was he referring to the woman’s voice she’d heard in her thoughts earlier? The one from her dreams?

“I hear a woman’s voice in my dreams sometimes.” Aria whispered. “Would that be her?”

Aye, it might just be. The wolf inclined his head. I smell her on you. It’s as if she is a part of your spirit.

Aria felt curious and slightly bewildered. But, like most things she’d heard that she couldn’t believe at the time, it was thrown away for the task at hand.

“You’re not like the others.” She stated, lifting her chin.

 You saw the pictures in my head. He narrowed his eyes. I am much older than their mindless wraiths. I am  Warg, but I am not theirs.

                “Warg?” She asked.

                The wolf, the Warg, dipped his head.  That is what they call us. I am different from them, however. I am from a far older, a far greater line than their ingrates.

                “You’re very well spoken.” She smirked.

                I cannot form words as you do, but I understand them. He stated. The ways of the mind is mysterious. It can comprehend things that elude it even though you may not comprehend.

                “I noticed that.” She stated, dipping her head. “You were a leader among your people?”

                The Warg nodded. I was their chief before the darkness fell and took my family. They kept me as a means to break me.

                “It seems they hadn’t fully.” Aria inclined her head toward him. “That is very admirable.”

                The Warg remained silent for a moment as if lost.

                “I would love to stay and speak with you,” She told him. “I mean no disrespect but I need to…”

                You must go save your comrades. The wolf finished for her.

                She nodded. “Yes. I don’t know why, but I need to save them from that monster who went after them.

                Then we must go. The Warg’s head rose high as he scented the air. They are not far.  

                “But, your injuries?” She inquired, glancing at the cuts upon his shoulders.

                You, cub, are in a far worse position than me. He snorted. I have lived through my scars. These will pose no issue.

 “Then, how do you suppose we get to them?” She narrowed her gaze.

He pushed her lightly with his muzzle. We will ride.

She shook her head. “No, no. Wait…”

Before she could protest, however, she felt the wolf shove her to the side. The soft fur covering his ribs brushed against her cheek, his snout tapping her as if to indicate where to mount. His ears pricked, amused. All signs of anger before had turned into something different. If she knew better, a purpose showed great within his teals.

There was no other way. She had to ride.

This caused Aria pause. Of everything she’d done so far, this had to be the most interesting. She never pictured herself riding a giant wolf, but she failed to realize the vast contrast in culture and creatures. She shouldn’t have been baffled by the turn of events. In the end, she should have felt a rush of relief at how it seemed to have made a turn for the better. Having him at her aid would prove the most beneficial in perhaps more ways than one. He was likely faster than she would be on foot and far more dangerous in battle if that was to come. Besides, she couldn’t hardly fathom how painful the journey would be if she would trek on her own. Her body would soon break, the pool of luck she’d stumbled into possibly running dry. It would be the stupidest thing for her to refuse the Warg’s invitation because of the way she felt. Nothing about it caused her any sort of unease.

She was scared. She couldn’t deny it. She’d barley ridden a horse when she was younger. She’d lost all memory of how to properly mount anything. However, she felt another bump upon her hip. Gazing at the wolf, she saw his understanding written within his teal eyes.

You are scared. He told her.

She nodded. “I’m guilty as charged.”

 The wolf  snorted before he nudged her even more. His fur smelled of pine and soil and his warmth enveloped her like the wind of a spring afternoon. It was comfort and security, not the cold and dark as she’d encountered before. It was not the harsh hands of those creatures who had thrown her in the cage. He was sincere and he was loyal.

 I will not harm you. I owe you my life and my protection. There is no need to be fearful. His words wove a blanket of hope within her heart, filling each void that had been thrust into the chill and shadows with buttery sunlight. That is why you were placed on my path. It is my destiny to keep you safe.

His words touched her and she felt her heart swell. Destiny wasn’t something she normally dabbled with. Ever since her grandmother died and Aria had been thrust into various states of living, she’d focused on the fact that her own future was not within four white walls. Her future was far beyond the cities and the streets of Oklahoma and starched even further than that. She pictured mountains and streams when she was younger and tasted the ice cold dew upon leaves in ancient forests.

But, abuse had sent her into the shadows and she’d long forgotten what it felt like to dream. Now, as she viewed the Warg before her and reviewed the prospect of destiny, she suddenly felt unsure of what she’d always wanted. She’d always wanted freedom from the hands of pain and the scornful glances of others mocking her new bruise. She wanted away from the lies and deceit that her teachers had failed to recognize.

In the end, however, she knew she couldn’t focus on that. Perhaps her destiny lay much further than her boundaries. After all, she wasn’t always one to remain within her comfort zone.

She nodded right then, her mind made up. The Warg’s eyes sparkled with delight at the prospect of a new journey. For a moment, she couldn’t blame him. But, she couldn’t douse the worry nibbling at the back of  her mind. There were lives to save and she was the only one standing between the companies demise and their survival. At least, she was the only one who knew what was coming their way.

Gripping the fur atop his shoulders, she relished in his warmth again. His snout lifted her atop him with a sudden thrust and she found her butt seated upon his back. Her nerves fired warnings hots underneath her dermis, causing  her heart to beat even faster than she’d ever imagined it could. The wolf moved under her, each creak of bone and breath causing the girl to become hyperaware of her predicament.

But, the others needed saving and she needn’t feel an ounce of fear. Instead, she let worry wash over her in crashing wave. Even though they’d had their differences, she owed them something. They’d fed her and kept her warm. Not everyone had treated her with contempt. Bilbo had done  so much as to befriend her, treating her as an equal more than any human had done before. The company needed to know what was coming and she needed to push down her fear and slam it against a wall again.

It was time she found justice for Bilbo and aided the others.

 “What is your name, sir?” She asked the Warg.

He glanced behind her, ears swiveling to hear. I am Tane, the Forgotten One.

“Well,” She smiled, allowing her fingers to run through the long strands of fur upon his nape. “Hello, Tane. I am Aria Jackson. It is nice to meet you.”

The pleasure is mine, Little Cub. His tone was almost happy.

Aria inhaled the chill air, glancing back to campsite to assess her situation. She had her weapons and she had her self. Her aid shifted beneath her, readying for the surge forward. The night was crisp and damp and the fire sputtered within the woodpile and ash. The bodies lay motionless before them.

What an odd sight it was and something Aria wished to leave behind.

“Okay, Tane.” She inhaled deeply.  “Let’s go save those dwarves.”  

Chapter Text

 Running Scared-Fighting Blind

“Cold be hand and heart and bone,
and cold be sleep under stone:
never more to wake on stony bed,
never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead.
In the black wind the stars shall die,
and still on gold here let them lie,
till the dark lord lifts his hand
over dead sea and withered land.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

Riding a horse had been nothing compared to being upon the back of a Warg. Although, Aria had ridden little in her past, she remembered briefly the lessons her grandmother urged her to take. There were various ways to mount one, but in the end, the ride was relatively rough. She’d been jostled too much, her legs aching something awful.  She hoped, for a brief second, that she wouldn’t feel the pain she recalled from her brief lessons.

Tane was a powerful being, his body blasting through the trees with unmistakable vigor. His gait was smooth while she bent over his nape, eyes closed as he bounded forward. Her fingers wrapped into the fur above his shoulders while he climbed hills and rocks. He swept through the underbrush, leaping with ease over downed trees that threatened to block them from progression. The sound of her heart and his breath mingled as one while they galloped through the timbers.

                She’d been scared before learning how to balance herself atop his proud back. Of course, he’d helped her as best as one could. He was tall, much taller than any horse she’d seen or attempted to ride in the past. Scrambling to get on him left her with a sense of disgust, her upper body strength weaker than anticipated. But, with a boost from his forehead upon her rear, she found herself seated just behind the lurched shoulders. Her fingers wove themselves in the long strands of ebony upon his great neck.

                The first steps he’d taken allowed her to acclimate herself. Eventually, she’d gained more balance as if she’d been made to ride something such as him. It was an odd sensation, but one she shoved to the back of her mind for a later thought. If anything, she didn’t allow herself any other thoughts besides moving forward. She could revel in the feeling of what it was like to ride a creature she’d never known once she’d successfully found the dwarves.

                Tane followed his nose. She’d told him of whom she sought and he’d lifted his muzzle to the air. After she’d gathered herself as best she could upon his back, the Warg lunged into the thicket and the darkness.  Immediately, they started off after the orcs and their Warg mounts. She felt the chill breeze begin to shift, bringing with it the first scents of dawn. Tane could sense it as well, his movements urgent as he surged across the moist soil.

 They were miles away and he was injured. But his pace remained constant as they flashed through the trees. She clung low to his hide as they rode, flowing with each movement of his thundering gallops. She turned her head to the side, pressing her ear to his shoulder. The wood passed by in blurs of grey and black, the lack of sunlight leaving a monochromatic visage to whip by.

                I scent your dwarves. Tane stated. They are still leagues ahead. The orcs are close.

                During her brief lesson with the Warg, she’d also inquired about the creature’s Tane had referred to as “orcs”. They were filthy, nasty beings that he found as evil and black as the blood that ran through their veins. It also seemed about as inky as what she’d been coated in. The pale orc that had accosted her was their leader. Her earlier act and having survived the injuries erected an even greater sense of respect with the Warg. It was yet another reason why he’d protected her.

                He is known as Azog, the Defiler. Tane explained while the wound their way through a gushing river. Its waters ran cold and angry over worn stones, bubbling and crashing into small pools before roaring away from them. The rains had left them swollen, the spray chill upon her flushed cheeks.

                She didn’t dare push for a further explanation as the Warg leapt across the bank of the river and toward the other side. If it were up to her, she’d refrain from knowing anything else about the creature. She could still feel the ghosting of the pale orc’s touch, the searing burn as his metal digits sizzled into her flesh. Nausea horrid and weakening bubbled in the back of her throat when she recalled the smell of her own burnt flesh.

                Instead, she inquired about an entirely new subject she wished to know more about.

                “How is it that you can understand my speech? You don’t speak English.”

                The Warg clawed at a stand of moist Earth, scaling a particularly large hill soaked clean through from the torrents earlier.

                What is English? He asked, slipping slightly in the muck. She felt the heavy dirt upon her cheeks. I do not recall such a language. Is it a form of Elvish?

                “Elvish?” She exclaimed quietly. “There are Elves here?”

                She knew the answer to that question, however. If the world she currently flashed through posed as anything near to what her grandmother had told her of, she knew anything was possible. She’d seen goblins and dwarves, fought orcs and rode Wargs. The place was so far displaced with what she’d been raised in, there was no telling what other creatures were to appear.

                Yes, Little Cub. The Warg chortled. There are many things in this world.

                “But, you didn’t answer my question.” She whispered. “How can you understand me.”

                Words are first thoughts that form within the mind. The Warg slowed, muzzle rising toward the canopy of the trees. Your words form in your head. I can speak to you via your consciousness. Do not ask me how that is done. I only know to be the way we can understand one another.

                She nodded. It was a completely understandable and very logical reasoning. As for how they were connected, she took his word and left it at that. They could understand each other. She couldn’t ask for an even easier means of communication. Perhaps there was something deeper and more powerful behind such a means. Was it the Giver of Fruits Tan had spoken of? She wasn’t sure. But, it made no difference to her.

                The wolf stopped suddenly, snout rising again to scent the air. She felt the caution within his breast coil, ears swiveling to attend to the silence. His sides heaved, the sensations of each breath vibrating against her fingers. Her own exhalation hung within her lungs while she leant forward to listen as well. The whispering of the stormy breeze fluttered through the canopy above their heads. Tane stepped forward slightly, intent and focused upon the silence.

                Suddenly, something howled in the distance. Both heads snapped toward the source, an echo ringing through the trunks of the trees. Her palm pressed deeper into the wolf’s fur. She felt his unease, hers rising like bile in her throat. They both knew as Tane knelt with his breast against the soil what lay up ahead.

                The enemy.  

                “Do you think they’ve found them?” She asked, disappointment gripping her soul. She hoped against hope the emotion was only a dramatic reaction to her current situation.

                The wolf shook his head. No, their howl means they are still searching. They have yet to find the company.

                She released the breath she’d held. A sliver of relief struck through her like a lightning bolt, but rushed away just a quickly. Another thought occurred to her instead, pressing the relief down like a thumb upon a tack. She leaned forward against the wolf’s neck.

                “I have an idea.” She breathed, her mind reeling at the prospect of her plan. It was but a fledgling, barley able to walk. But, what time did she have?

                She felt a slight tang of amusement from Tane, her thoughts recognized by him just as her words were before she spoke. You are mad.

                “Yes, but it might help.”

                Tane shook his head, ears flopping against his skull. Cutting them off will not keep your dwarves safe.

                “It will help, though.”

                The wolf sighed internally at her persistence, but she could also feel him contemplate the idea just as another howl ripped through the wood. Aria inhaled sharply just as the sound split through the canopy, echoing from the ancient bark of the trees to rain fear down upon her shoulders. She felt her fingers dig into Tane’s fur, palms slick with sweat.  His warmth swept through, dousing a smidge of her building anxiety. The ever present yearning to run flared again, but she couldn’t turn back. Her goal was so painfully close.

                “You don’t have to go with me. You risked your life to help me, but what about you?” She bit back a sob, her heart thundering against her chest. “You were freed from their tyranny. If they win, you will be forced back into their clutches or worse.”

                The Warg’s sides rose and fell in thought. His emotions were the rolling, angry waters of a coursing river. They crashed and collided inside her head, reminding her of his past and the horror it encompassed. She knew he didn’t wish to return to that life, nor did he  wish to be  imprisoned in a cage. The iron bars were always there, clouding his mind to the brink of insanity.

Yet, something had swept away those clouds. It allowed for the bright and blinding light of freedom to spill upon his ebony coat and warm his interior until he became fit to bust. He’d relished in the feeling for he had not felt it before, knowing if he’d left that he would no longer feel it in the cold and relentless world he’d grown up in.

You are risking your life. The life I swore to protect. Tane replied rather haughtily. She could almost taste his worry as one would taste the bitterness of chalk upon their tongue. 

                “Not purposefully, though.” She rebuked quickly. “It’s all I have right now to go on.”

                It is folly and you know it, Tane spat.

                “Of course,” She nodded. “But what else do we have right now? It’s definitely not time to sit and argue.”

                The wolf remained silent and she hoped that her answer had dashed his doubts back. She could still sense the wave of worry washing over them and between their similar thoughts. He would perhaps hold that doubt forever or until they were successful in their quest. But, she had not other choice and he understood that more than anything. She could feel the sense of comprehension run deep, another sense of experience echoing in the recesses of his past. He’d been scared not only upon his dermis, but upon his mentality as well.

                He knew there was no other option. He just didn’t want to admit it. He was proud, but not to a formidable measure.

                Fine, Little Cub. Tan lowered his breast to the ground in preparation to pounce. A rush of excitement and fear coursed through the girl, her breath fluttering across her dry lips. You best hold on tight. This will not be easy.

                I might not make it, she reminded herself. But at least I can try.

                She leaned further down, fur brushing against her nostrils. She felt the heat of his skin pulsate through her own, his soft fur smelt of wood and soil. She could hear the beating of his heart against her ear drums and the breath leave his lungs. In that moment, Aria knew she’d need to grip onto him for dear life. This was no horseback riding lesson, nor was it anything she’d find in the modern world. This was raw power beneath her fingertips. Even if the wolf himself had suffered injuries, she found him to be resilient. He would get her to her destination even if it killed him.

                She hoped they would make it out alive.

                In an instant, Tane leapt from where he’d crouched and sailed through the air. The chill breeze brushed across Aria’s face, the dried orc blood having chipped away slightly to allow for a little breathing room. She could feel it like face paint at the corners of her eyes and mouth, the icy fingers of the night raking through her soiled locks. In another time, she’d be in Oklahoma taking a warm shower and she found herself longing for such a thing right then.

                But, the impact of the wolf upon the forest floor jarred Aria and her minute dreams away. Reality checked her harshly, reminding her that she was no longer is Oklahoma but in the raw and merciless plain of Middle Earth where creatures were larger than her and wished to end her existence. She needed to survive and, in order to do that, she needed to thrust the thoughts of negativity down the metaphorical drain in her mind. Flushing those would cause her to strength to build and she could move forward.

                Being stronger would be all it took to help the company. But, she also knew they needed to be smarter than the enemy.

Aria clung to Tan’s nape for dear life as the beast launched himself through the underbrush and litter of the forest floor. She could smell the damp leaves and soil, feel the crisp atmosphere after the rain. It reminded her for a moment of home once again, but she dashed the thoughts away immediately. Thinking of home would only render her useless. Her mind needed to remain clear.

With every lurch Tan made, she swayed. He was far more powerful than a horse and far faster as well. He flew practically, leaving nothing of clarity behind. Aria managed to bite back the fear she still felt tingling in her limbs and snuck a peek at the flashing scenery. The forest whizzed as if she were aboard the fastest sports car she’d ever known.

A twig, sharp like a razor, sliced across her cheek. Aria didn’t dare cry out, her entire face burning just when she realized the inanimate object had lacerated her injury from the camp. Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked, streams of the saline liquid trailing down her cheeks to blow into the icy wind. She quickly lowered herself against the wolf again, burying her face into his warm fur for comfort.  

Another howl punctured the whipping wind buffeting her ears. Tane halted immediately, his paws sliding in the slick mud before coming to a stop completely. He lifted his muzzle to the air, Aria rising as well to catch a glimpse as to where they’d slid to a halt. The trees whispered, their canopies swaying like black fingers toward the dark blue sky. Their silhouettes gave her pause, a shiver running down her spine.

Just then, another howl split the night and Tane snorted. He’d lost them for a moment, Aria concurred. Their scent most likely had been stronger in certain directions, but the breeze had died. Aria realized the intensity of the enemy’s scent had dissipated as well. She wished she could aid the wolf in smelling them, too, knowing that she’d at least have an extra set of ears and nostrils to detect any alterations of their path.

                But, she was human. She held human faults. She feared the darkness, less now than she had, and she also fears what was to come. She was not larger than life or built out of stone as the dwarves were likely to be. She was soft, fragile even. The thought of taking on leagues of Wargs and their riders seemed farfetched.

It was her only option.

She did have one thing that could lend aid, though. Slowly, her hand slid to the pendent resting just upon the cusp of her breast bone. It was warm and smooth in her chilled fingers. She could almost feel the sword within begging for release. With every step they taken so far and every mile they’d surpassed, she felt the fear she’d thought she’d dashed against the cave walls or pushed down beginning to rise again. She knew she’d not competently snuffed it out. That was impossible.

But, this fear felt different. She’d never sensed it before. Could it recognize the folly of their actions or see the nervous tension binding within the bands of muscle cording through her shoulders and against her spine. She could feel the bundles of nerves spit and sizzle like a blazing fire, warning her against her ideas.

                But, there was no other way and nothing else she could do.

                She focused on Tane as he climbed another foothill dotted with ancient stones. Thick brush bashed the girl’s tennis shoes, the spines of a few stabbing like daggers through the heavy fabric of her jeans. She winced, clenching her teeth against the sting while her eyes watered.  They halted at the precipice; Aria’s gaze fell down below.

                The trees stood tall and dark against the veil of the night, roots winding and meandering like snakes around the boulders that sprinkled the soil. The biting wind ruffled through the girl’s soiled hair, running down the length of her spine to send shivers through her extremities. Whispers amongst the leaves and needles of the pines left Aria with a nasty taste in her mouth. A feeling of dread seeped burning her bones like acid, leaving her eyes to widen with anticipation.

                Aria’s eyes swept the valley below the m, silver light from the bloated moon dipping as best it could into the dark crevices. However, something else seemed to sway through the shadowy forms of shrubs and undergrowth. Various other things, she realized as she narrowed her gaze for better focus.

 The whispering of the timber grew. Aria could feel as if something were attempting to garner her attention. She heard things, various types of sounds and colors coming to life within her mind. She thought it funny for a moment she’d not noticed the power of it before, finding she’d been too preoccupied with surviving to be alerted by the murmurs of ancient wood. Now, as she gazed down into the darkened vale, she couldn’t quell the feeling of knowing settling like an ancient homestead within her core. The trees spoke of the figures down below and the girl understood exactly who and what they were. Perhaps what seemed to shake her was the fact that she could hear the whistling and muttering of them just as she could hear the wolf.

The figures spoken of were shadows in the deep blue of the night, weaving through the bushes like inky black globs of sentient goop. She could just make out a faint murmuring snaking through the slim line of the trees as the ancient forest swayed with alarm. Narrowing her gaze even more, she found herself following suit just as her eyes landed upon a creature she’d hoped not to have seen again.

 The white Warg, a beacon of pale fur gleaming in the moonlight, sauntered at the head of the pack. If Aria were correct, she could also see the various others behind the bleached orc and his mount. Their own steeds clung low to the ground, huge breast bones skimming along the surface of the soil to remain hidden.  They were searching, noses lifted to the air in an attempt to catch the scent the company. Snarls and howls brought gooseflesh upon the girl’s skin, shivers running claws down her spine.

                Was do you think we should do? The girl asked wordlessly of her own mount beneath her.

                She could feel his sides dip in thought, ears flat against his skull as he lowered himself to the moss and earth beneath. It would be just her luck for one of the stray riders to spot them atop the hill they’d claimed as their vantage point. She understood it from Tane that it was best to remain a shadow as well.

                There is another hill we can use to cut them off, he indicated with his snout toward a very far off rendezvous.

                I’m starting to think your idea is much better. She stated, gripping his fur a bit tighter and swallowing. I think we should just go ahead and see if we can reach the company first.

                I would have to agree, The wolf nodded, bobbing his snout. We are only one against many. We would not survive.

                She gave a silent huff, agreeing with his statement. From what she could see, they had no other choice but to go ahead. There were dozens of Wargs and their riders as well as numerous weapons and arrows that could be thrown their way.  She had no armor and neither did her mount, leaving them defenseless. It would be asinine to plundge head first into their midst, something akin to someone diving into a sea of sharks covered in blood.

                She shivered at the thought, knowing her state of being was something similar.

                No. They would not fight. To fight would mean their end. She’d just arrived in Middle Earth, and through all of the things she’d been given, death had not been one of them. She chose to remain that way and move along. Life, as she knew it, was changed. Death, though, had not been invited.

                Are you good with a bow and arrow? Tane’s voice in her head drew her from her thoughts.

                Maybe. Why? She asked.  She watched as Azog halted his troops, her heart thundering within her chest. Tane seemed to noticed, shifting ever so slightly to remain hidden.

                It might be possible to dispatch of them one by one. He explained. You have a bow and arrow. It could work.

                What about remaining silent and not fighting?

                The wolf shook his head noiselessly. I am not condoning we plunge into the fray. I am only saying that if it be, we could possibly eliminate all who dare stray near.

                We will see what we can do. Aria nodded. If we keep silent, we might just take out a few as we go.

                As nimble as a jungle cat, Tane maneuvered his way along the ridge. Luckily for them, it seemed to run the span of the vale below and around like a crescent moon. A line of thick trees scaled the hill, serving as decent coverage while they meandered noiselessly through the brambles and brush. Tane’s surefooted demeanor served them well. He quickly traipsed over fallen logs and branches, leaving nothing in his wake.

                Aria’s gaze constantly shifted between the way ahead and their enemy below. They were dark against the bloated moon, a veil of flesh and shadow slithering through the foliage like a snake. The pale orc remained static as they moved and she could sense the tension as heavy as chain mail upon her skin. Her heart’s rapid thundering served as a consistent reminder that she was not in Oklahoma anymore. The nervous dipping of her chest caused the warm pendent to bounce beneath her sweatshirt, spreading fingers of heat through her. She couldn’t quell the gentle coaxing of calm that it attempted to achieve, but knew the attempt to be as willing as a cat was to water.

                They were far too distant from their intended goal to cause the girl any sort of respite. The ridge was lengthy if not horribly stretched to the brink of losing the intended target all together. Aria found herself losing her sight to it, knowing the wolf beneath her to be more focused than she seemed to be. Instead of training her sight on what lay ahead, she focused more upon the enemy below. If the moved, she felt she’d notify the wolf.

                Eventually, they reached the cusp. To their disappointment, it didn’t end there. Aria tore her eyes from the band of orcs to see the way spread before her was much larger than anticipated. There were not dwarves ahead and neither was there any sign of the mountain side ending. There seemed to only be a spread of trees thick and tall stretching before them.

                Immediately, her heart crashed to her stomach. Her fingers felt numb as they gripped onto the soft fur of Tane’s nape. The wolf sensed this sudden change in her aura, his ears lowering themselves flat against his skull once more. He lifted his nose to the air, attempting to scent anything upon it and give them direction.

                After a few moments, Aria felt a sting a tears in the corner of her eyes. Her vision blurred for a moment but she bit back the overwhelming urge to roar in anger. She dashed the stupid idea of turning and leaping from the wolf’s back and throwing herself into the throng of orcs below. Turning, she spotted their stoic shadows among the slim trees. They had remained there for quite some time, gathering their direction or something similar.

                No matter what they did, she hated them. Normally, Aria felt nothing akin to hate. It was a strong, very overused callousness that meant so much more than what others realized. She’d learned to push it down within her, using it only when the person or thing deserved it. She’d only awarded the wrath of her heat to two people, and those two had remained behind. Even then, though, she’d forgiven them long ago simply because it was the right thing to do.

                Now, while she watched the band of orcs speak in hushed tones with syllables she couldn’t understand, she knew the pressure building like a coiling snake fit to strike inside her. this feeling rent her organs in two, delivering a nasty taste upon her tongue. She could taste it’s bitter bite almost like the first sip of cough syrup. It almost made her gag against it. She refrained.

                Suddenly, a burst of something blinded her mind with excitement that was not her own. She winced against it, feeling its uphporia splinter through her like the first trickling of a scaling shower. Tane’s ears pricked forward with such haste, Aria’s eyes widening as she glanced at him.

                I can smell your dwarves ahead. Tane declared. They are close.

                That was all it seemed to take for the girl to feel relief like a warm blanket rush over her. She could feel her shoulders droop from it, knowing she’d been wrong in thinking the end goal to be so far away. They were close, how far, she wasn’t sure. But, that didn’t matter. If they were ahead, they could only get to them before the others.

                Alright. She acknowledged him with a quirk at the corners of her mouth. Let’s go find them.

                Just as they’d readied themselves, a howl split the night. Aria jerked, her mount following. Twisting, Aria’s gaze widened to see the band of orcs were beginning to move once again. They no longer seemed to head in the direction in which they’d originally been going and it was with great dread that she realized what their new trajectory seemed to be.

                Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

                Tane tensed, the hard muscle beneath Aria’s thighs rigid. If he’d taken note of her cursing, he showed no sign. Instead, the wolf turned toward the way ahead with gusto and leapt noiselessly through the thicket. He barreled down the opposite slope in which they’d just trekked, seemingly stealthy even at the heels of haste. The chill breeze raked through the fine hairs at her nape, roaring in her ears as they sped like fire through the woods. Fear began to claw at her shoulders, digging ice hardened splinters into the supple flesh of her ribcage.

                Tane’s snout lifted again, scenting the air. It lasted a few moments before he lowered it and quickened his pace. They were flying through the forest, trees whipping past in blurs of black and grey. A spark of silver moonlight lasted mere milliseconds before being swallowed by the shadows once again. She heard nothing but her own timorous breaths, her apprehension rising like a cobra to strike.

                Behind them, she could no longer hear the dull murmurs or howls of the band. She was thankful for that, if not weary. She knew how fast Wargs could be not only from riding one herself but from witnessing their true power at the campsite. They were anger and muscle, blood and bone fueled by the carnal need to rip and tear. She’d observed animals similar to them before and she also comprehended the true danger she’d been under prior.

                They’d scented the dwarves as well. If Tane had caught a whiff of her company, the enemy surely had gathered similar information. It was only a matter of time before they’d reach the duo. Aria couldn’t imagine what the orcs would do, a shiver racing down her clacking spine just at the mere inclining of getting captured again.

                Soon, they topped the adjacent hill. The tree line hugged thinner upon the ridge, allowing for a view of an even greater spread of foothill and rocks. If she were correct, she could almost see a large mountain far greater than the one she’d escaped from looming like a giant in the distance. It was far, much too far to discern, but she swore she could make out its jagged frame.

                Something about that mountain, she realized, nibbled at her. It was a pesky fly buzzing in the back of her mind, all too real but still seemingly faint. And, much like a fly to sugar water, she felt herself drawn to the great blackness. She wasn’t sure why, knowing very little about anything in that moment.

                As if on cue, a howl cut through the thick night. She turned her attention away from the mysterious peak much too far away to even garner an ounce more of her consideration, and realized that the enemy was much closer than she’d gathered. A spike of panic rent her soul in two, sparks of it shooting from her core and into the wolf she gripped for dear life.

                They are…She made to say.

                We are going to have to defend ourselves. The wolf interrupted.

                Aria’s breath hitched. Say what?

                We will have to fight, Aria. He threw over his shoulder. The moment of refrain is void. They will be upon is soon.

                Aria had hoped it wouldn’t come to violence. She’d seen too much and experienced her own fair share of hurt. She was tired of the pain and tired of constantly fighting for her life. For a moment, she wished she’d find herself in her small bed in Oklahoma. She’d never done that, but the memory of warmth from her thin blanket did little to aid her need for respite.

                Tane burst forward with gracious speed. He no longer focused upon remaining silent. Instead, she felt the overwhelming need of flight erupt in her veins like fireworks to gasoline. He was attempting to get away, placing as much distance between the enemy as he possibly could. She felt the surge of energy rush forward and knew, instantly, that she needed to provide an aid of any kind.

                Immediately, her hand reached for the bow strung across her shoulders. With a sense of balance she didn’t know she held, she gripped the sides of the woods with her thighs and reached around to acquire the weapon. The taut string sang while her fingers gripped upon the ancient wood. Twisting to gather the position of their pursuers, she noted they were at least a mile behind them. It was a mile greatly assumed, but a mile nonetheless.

                Again, the girl reached over her head to grip shaft of an arrow. The fletching had long been soiled by the blood of the unfortunate orc who’d owned it. Bringing it before her, she notched it as one would do to prepare for a shot. Of course, she wasn’t sure what shot she could garner. She’d never loosed an arrow from the back of a moving animal. Tane was no horse and neither was his stride akin to one.

                A flash of white reminded her of just who had decided to fall in behind the duo. She wondered if the pale orc had realized who he trailed after, or if he’d realized there was anything ahead. She assumed the Wargs had scented her. She didn’t smell like a roses or anything appetizing. At least, not to her nose. She knew she reeked and the scent would be hard to avoid.

                Ahead stretched a long ridgeline who’s spine gleamed with silver moonlight. The dark shapes of slim trees bent under heavy canopies shadowed the pale blue of the hillside. She followed the ridge toward another set of trees and, from there, it seemed to clone and remain the same.

                Something erupted behind them. It represented a coiled mess between a howl and a whimper. She’d never heard anything like it before but, the sudden discomfort busting through her tension brought her eyes to her mount below. She waited until another spike shot down her spine, the source stemming from the base of her palms.

                Tane was injured. He’d been so prior to their prison break. She couldn’t imagine the substantial damage that he’d obtained hauling her around. If anything, he was cradling his wound with pride and refraining from alerting her to its bite.

                Guilt struck her like a cobra, swift and merciless. She felt her limbs freeze, her heart coiling with the emotion until she feared it would burst. He’d kept moving, kept enduring the agony for so long. It was all because of her and she knew there was no other reason. He’d vowed to keep her safe, to see to it that she found her people. But, he’d done so at the extent of damaging himself even more.

                I can feel your pain, Tane. She told him, alerting him to her comprehension of his predicament. We need to find a place to hide.

                You will lose your dwarves, Little Cub. His worry was not ignored.

                You matter more.

                She wasn’t wrong in her assertion of the statement. At that moment, the wolf had sacrificed more than for her than anyone else had. Not even Bilbo. To have him die underneath her not only would cause her imminent demise, but she’d grown fond of him. He was a loyal ally when she had none, and though she’d figured him grumpy, she sensed the promising prospect of a meaningful friendship.

                She was not one to leave that behind.

                We need to move away from the ridge and find some sort of concealment. She told him. We need to cover you and get rid of your sent.

                The wolf’s argument fell short as another howl rent the quiet air behind them. It was much closer, causing Aria’s breath to hitch once again. She felt the scalding fear boil her insides, leaving in its wake its nasty bite. She couldn’t shake the feeling they were simply playing with fire, knowing if they faltered they would perish.

                Tane seemed to comprehend this. His body jerked to the side, the girl and her weapon swaying violently with the sudden change in trajectory. With this quick divert in their path, the wolf had returned to his silence. His footfalls fell noiselessly, the soft earth serving as the perfect conduit for quiet.

                Soon, Tane located a wide bush who’s girth spanned the width of himself. There, he crouched. Aria slid from atop his proud back, wincing as her feet made contact with the soft soil. She could feel her bones rattle, creaking like rusty door hinges beneath her flesh. Her muscles bunched and ached, her rear numb and cold.

                Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the ancient wood of her bow, the string taut beneath the opposite finger pads as she held it and the fletching of her arrow. She would be ready, no matter what came about. Her heart thundering in her chest, organs curling along with the anxiety she felt at the base of her sternum. There were so many things she wished she could prepare for, knowing she had never been in these types of predicaments.  But, she knew if it were them or her she would choose life. She’d seen so much death already and understood her mind to be forever branded by the horrifying image of it.

                She loathed the fact that she still felt fear. She knew she’d dashed it against the cave walls hours ago. But, it clung to her core like peanut butter to the roof of her mouth. She couldn’t disregard it so easily no matter how hard she tried. It would never slip away so quickly like melted butter on the sides of a bowl.

                She slunk to where she could easily observe the band of orcs. Small branches and brittle twigs buckled under her shoes, the idea of complete silence not complete.  She could hear their muffled cries and howls lilting through the spidery branches of the trees. The timberline all but roared inside her head, pounding like her heart against her temples. She winced against it, her eyes closing briefly to block out what little discomfort she could.

                The air swirled and buffeted the lanky curls of her hair. She heard the swell of the band as they approached, paws thudding against the dank soil. Above, the trees whispered of their sudden swiftness. They came like the wind would sweep down the grassy hills of Oklahoma, their breaths caught in their throats and mounts panting with lolling tongues.

                She felt every vibration of their advance and every gust of their rancid breath. Something surged through the remaining thicket. It was powerful, lusting for blood and darkness. Sinew and muscles bunched under thick fur, just as it had done for her mount. Powerful and motivated, it tore its way forward and up and over the rises and rocks. It bounded onward to land right behind…

 Her eyes flew open and she lifted her bow with the quickness of a snake. In another breath, a roar ripped through the silence of the night while the tepid stench of rot brushed dank claws across her skin. Aria felt her fear dissipate, the carnal desire to defend igniting like a flame within her bones. She could feel the flame curl through her extremities but couldn’t douse the almost-scream lodging itself within her throat. She twisted her spine as a flash of darkness, the smell of death, and something else rushed in front of her.

                With reflexes she didn’t know she processed, she loosed her arrow it before she even stood a chance to comprehend what occurred. A painful reverberation rent the heavy night air, sending an alarm to the others. Despite this, she was relieved to find it was solitary. Black blood spilled upon the soil from the creature whose head had taken the point of her arrow. It flailed about violently, slopping the viscous liquid across Aria’s face and arms. She attempted to guard herself, but to no avail.

                The warm blood slid down her face, mingling with the singed edges of the burn under her eye. It stung, the horrid smell molesting her nostrils to the point of upheaval within her gut. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes, her vision briefly blurring before she blinked and allowed them to fall. But, the thing faltered not. It remained in its mad state until the life drained from it.

                Tane was behind her in an instant, lifting her upon his back in a snap of his jaws. For a moment, she flew the air to land upon his great back. Wind and cold ice slashed at her stained cheeks, but she was numb to it. Her thoughts fell as well, pushed back into the reassesses of her mind. Unfortunately, she couldn’t help the sensation of dread adding to the dead weight of her legs.

                They knew she was there. They’d seen her and she’d eradicated one of their kind. She wasn’t fond of revenge but the creatures behind her were. To fell one of their own would mean a death sentence placed upon her head. She had been a prisoner before, left alive for whatever pleasures their leader had decided for her. Now, with the blood of their brethren upon her face, she was marked. She was a but a moving target, a giant bullseye slathered in red upon her shoulders.

                What about your injury? She asked her mount.

                I am not as young as I once was, Little Cub. He replied. Now that they have spotted us, it is only a matter of time before we are slain. We need to move.

                Do you still have the scent?

                He nodded, a quick movement she could only glimpse partially as he flew across the soil with reckless abandon. They were rushing away, putting great distance between the pack and themselves. Tane’s speed increased, but also did her worry for him. It didn’t matter if he figured himself made of iron and mechanisms that could go on forever, he was flesh and bone. His injury, whatever one that may be, still seemed to bite at him as if it were a copperhead in an Oklahoma river. She knew those kinds of wounds didn’t heal fast nor did they feel pleasant when put under pressure.

                But, he wouldn’t listen to her. For some unknown reason, she felt as if his need to keep her safe outweighed the need to falter under injury. She, too, had done something similar various times that night. She could only imagine what it felt like, but couldn’t imagine why he’d go so far as to keep her safe.

                She might have grown fonder of him for that.

                The enemy can smell you. Tane commented, turning to avoid a stand of spines sprouting from a bush. It seems your cover is fading or they have associated the smell of orc blood to you.

                Is that how they found us in the bush? She inquired.

                I believe so, Little Cub.

                She ground her teeth, jaw flexing in frustration. There had to be something that they could do to shake them from their path. However, Aria wasn’t much of a tracker nor was she savvy in the ways of survival. She’d never been chased by blood thirsty creatures with even nastier riders. Her grandmother had taught her many things and that did not fall under the category.

                Movement flickered in the corner of her eye, branches crashing as a howl split through the darkness once again. Out of the shadows came a fang filled maw snapping and salivating just inches from her face. Aria didn’t scream, however, as she twisted to avoid the gnashing teeth of a single Warg and rider.

                The beast it rode upon landed directly before them, causing her own wolf to skid to a swift halt. It seemed it had branched away from the group, perhaps much faster than the others. She noticed the glittering malice within the rider’s beady eyes and watch as a black grin of sadistic pleasure smeared across the creature’s horrid face.

                It burbled something incoherent to her, words she’d heard before. Even though she couldn’t understand it, she didn’t dare wish to. The words were slurred, hissed between black lips like the song of a serpent. It coiled around her, squeezing from all directions. The thing stepped forward with confidence, likely sure it had cornered its prey.

                She wouldn’t have it.

                Her bow would be too tricky to deal with even if a ranged attack was a logical means to down the beast. She still needed to load the weapon, and she wasn’t sure if she’d be given the time to grip another arrow and nock it before the enemy decided to lunge toward her. In the time it took to fell the other, she’d noted the span of which she’d taken to prepare herself. It had been way too long even if the beast prior had not been in front of her directly and it had not known her to be armed.

                Warmth spread across her chest, curls of heat snuggling into her veins and coiling around her limbs. She recognized the feeling, a sensation she’d grown slightly accustomed to since she’d realized the object was more than meets the eye. Slowly to avoid detection, she slipped her hand beneath the neckline of her soiled sweatshirt and gripped the very warm pendent. Bringing it to the forefront, she refrained from jerking back as it immediately transformed with a hiss into the sword. The glow seemed tyrannical, splitting the deep shadows around the four figures and biting back the shadows.

                In seeing this, her enemy instinctively lurched backward. The intense glow from her weapon illuminated the grotesque features upon its face, black teeth glinting under horrid lips. However, the caution within its beady eyes subsided and it gazed at her with another sneer. Perhaps the introduction to her weapon had been an invitation for battle. She wondered if that was all it had needed to charge.

                With a holler, the thing lurched forward. Clods of mud and dirt flung into the air as the Warg surged with abnormal speed toward the girl. She gripped the hilt of her sword with white knuckles, feeling the bite of her own nails into the soft flesh of her palm. With a deep inhale, she felt Tane fly ahead as well. With fangs bared, her Warg landed upon the enemy with the ease an antelope over a hedge.

                Pearly fangs sank into fur and supple flesh of the other wolf’s side, crimson blood spilling upon the girl’s face once again. In any other situation, she would have rolled her eyes at it. However, she quickly dashed the thought at the sudden intrusion of a rusted blade mere inches form her cheek. The thing upon the Warg’s back had not given up.

                Tane unlatched his jaw from the Warg’s rib cage, slathering fur and viscous blood upon the dampened soil. Aria held Drayuik before her, brandishing her only life line in that particular moment. The wounded creature wheezed, its rider oblivious to his mounts injury. It didn’t seem to stop the rage in the creatures eyes, its futile attempt of to push the beast forward a tiny sign of hope in the battle.

                With a nod from her mount, Aria pushed him into a gallop that led her directly into the enemy’s line of fire. Raising the sword above her head, she let it fall upon the orc’s head. The thud that met her ears accompanying the connection between blade and bone sounded loudly in the silent forest. It was almost like a vacuum, the suction of metal and brain matter keeping her blade from slipping from the enemy’s skull.

                She’d never murdered anything. Sure, there was the minute fly or spider that she’d deemed venomous. However, she’d usually left the harmless ones alone or usurped them from her bedroom floor and onto the shingled roof of her foster home. It usually didn’t end in splattering its remains on her shoe or anything else she’d used as a weapon for the bad ones.

                In this occasion, she desperately needed her blade back. The life within the orc’s beady eyes had left moments ago, whatever whites held within finally gleaming in the darkness while they rolled into the back of its head. Her eyes blew wide while she attempted to search for something, anything, that could help her bring her blade from the organ that seemed to cling to it for dear life.

                Her mind flitted toward an old slasher film she’d watched at her grandmother’s long ago. It had been late at night, a Saturday if she remembered correctly, and her grandmother had fallen asleep in her favorite arm chair. Aria, the unsuspecting pre-teen she’d been, had found the film on a channel her grandmother refrained from staying on. To the girl’s untimely discovery, she’d halted on the very visceral part of a masked man using his boot to dislodge the long blade of a machete from the skull of a college aged boy.

                Fuck. She was using Jason Voorhees as inspiration. She was far, far from home now.

                Still, what others at home didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Recalling the exact frame in which Jason had used his shoe, Aria lifted the leg nearest the dead orc and planted the sole of her shoe against its face. It was hard, the cold beginning to seep into the brain material and bone latching upon her blade. She winced as she pushed harshly and pulled simultaneously. It was a chore, but eventually, the blade came free.

                Beneath the dead orc snapped the jaws of its mount. She wildly held onto her own as Tane warped and twisted away from the feral beast to avoid further injury. He leapt away with the speed of a cheetah, turning on the beast as the orc atop it began to fold itself in half and slump to the ground. The thud of the body deafened her in the quiet and she winced.

                But, what seemed anomalous was the sudden sight of the beast beginning to rip into the body of its previous rider. Visceral slurps and crunching split through the night, bringing a horrific scene of a starving animal shredding the body of its former owner directly in front of her. She couldn’t peel her gaze away, somehow forced to watch the grizzly sight of the orc becoming mincemeat for its mount.

 Do not look, Little Cub. Tane’s voice was light against the shadow threatening to shatter her almost thinly placed excuse for sanity. End its suffering with your arrow.

She’d kept her wits about her so far. She had no need to lose it now. She’d seen various things entering Middle Earth, most of which had only been limited to the movies and TV shows at home prior to her unwarranted arrival. She could never imagine witnessing something so vile, so real. But, she’d kept her own. She’d even fought the enemy and caused some of the revulsions herself. In truth, she’d not spent too much time watching her enemy’s guts spill upon the cave floor.

She had, in fact, seen the horrors the darkness had delivered her once she’d fallen. Those images would never leave her mind, branded there permanently like a fire and iron upon cowhide. She could never push away the frothing maggots and spiders boiling from gaping maws on terror stricken faces. She could never wash her body of the black, inky blood coating every inch of her dermis and she would never, ever rid herself of the feel of their cold and lifeless bodies beneath her as she scrambled to regain composer.

                Shaking her head, Aria ripped her gaze away from the gore splattering the bark of the trees and rain sodden earth. She attempted to push down the horrid sound of squelching and cracking that were only made by the ripping of meat and splintering of ripe bone. She, instead, focused upon the thundering of her heart against her rib cage. She threw away the horrid images of fangs snapping her own bones and focused upon her fingers gripping the hilt of her blade.

                 As if reading her mind, the blade shrank into its pendent form once again. Lifting her arm slowly as if it a daze, she reached around to grab her bow. The focus it took to retrieve an arrow all but alleviated the unwarranted images assaulting her mind’s eye. She stroked the fletching gently in her fingertips, resting the shaft of the arrow where it normally went.

                Pulling back, she inhaled slowly as she lifted the bow and placed the savage creature in her sights. Exhaling, she loosed the arrow and watched it fly toward its target. She hoped with all her might she didn’t miss it, knowing that she’d have to fight even more than she wished to eradicate it.  Tane’s injury would only get worse, and she was no better for ware. She was wounded as well, her skin all but searing in every corner and crevice.

                The familiar thock of the arrow meeting its target caused a surge of relief to spread through her weary frame. It had embedded itself within the flesh of its ribcage. However, it seemed the arrow did not alleviate any incident. Instead, ravenous eyes bored into her soul, black coagulate and bits of flesh dripping like saliva from the beast’s quivering lips. She blinked back, grabbing another arrow from her quiver and drawing it. She felt her hands tremble, eyes boring into the wild Warg’s gaze. The thing roared suddenly, twisting around to tear toward them with rage.

                She released the other arrow, watching it volley through the air and lodging in the crease of its brow with a loud crack. The thing didn’t stop. Its intense trajectory remained as it bounded toward them with the power of a rhino. She felt the fear once again spike within her chest, her fingers digging into the hardened wood of her bow while she quickly drew another.

                It’s not stopping, Tane. She all but shouted inside her head. What do we do?

                Wait…Tane backed away.

                Sure enough, crimson trickled down the snout of the beast to dribble upon the earth. It’s hastened gallop slowed to drunken trots, then to sloppy steps. Finally, it fell to the dirt with a thud and remained static. Aria blinked, her anxiety building as she watched for any other movement. None came, and she audible sighed.

                However, her small sip of respite split it two as a hail of shouts erupted adjacent to their battle grounds. Tane’s head rose, snout scenting the air. She knew immediately they small moment of peace would soon end in a flood of Wargs and their riders attempting to find her. She gripped her bow, but refrained from loading it.

                Tane took that moment to turn on his hocks and lung forward in the opposite direction from their oncoming enemy. With the speed and grace their pursuers didn’t possess in that moment, Tane blasted through the underbrush and bushes. The trees whipped past once again in blurs of grey and blues. She stored her pendent inside her sweatshirt, returning her bow to her shoulders.

                Ahead, she spotted something solid and dark. It was a solid mass upon the spotting of black trees and spidery limbs. They drew closer, she found it to be a very large face of rock. Tufts of grass and brush sparsely dotted the very top of the ridge. In the distance, thunder rolled and reminded the duo of the previous storm, sending vibrations to rattle her core. A spear of lightning flashed behind the ominous ridge, highlighting jagged fangs of rocks sprouting from its sides. It was an incoming obstacle, a shadowing reminder that all things come to an end.

                Once they approached it, Aria couldn’t help but stare directly up to the very precipice. She could hear the distant howls and cries from behind them, her anxiety building once again within her breast. They slowed their flight, trotting to the very base of the tall foothill, sparse undergrowth and pine needles littering the foundation.  Her eyes trailed the jagged face, mind immediately thrashing against the thoughts occurring within her mind.

                Don’t tell me…

                The wolf scoffed inside her head. I smell them on the other side. We have to climb.

                Awesome.

Chapter Text

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

“I’ll get there, if I leave everything but my bones behind,”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

The air shifted around him. It smelled rank like sweat and coppery blood. Yet, he couldn’t and wouldn’t know why. It was a haze, smog within his mind that surpassed its ability for comprehension. Still, it twisted something within him just enough to cause anger to flare. Like a tiny flame upon tinder, he felt that heat surge through him.

He could sense another, sense the one who hadn’t died and the same one who had not flown when he'd urged them to. They were fighting and running, running and fighting. Occasionally, they would wallow in the shadows before bolting once again. For some reason, he knew he couldn’t so much as move to allow them some sort of respite. Why would he anyway? He didn’t dare meddle in things that did not require him to.

But, something small and docile uncoiled itself from the back of his mind. Like a cold drake, it slithered forward and reminded him of things past. A time where he’d known mortals and their ways and a time where he’d found peace. Yet, that time had come and gone like the passing of wind and rain. It fell upon his shoulders, pattering against his hide in a downpour of

This thing may have seemed docile, but he knew better. He knew its bite because he’d felt it before. It made itself small like a prey animal, knowing that it could grow and twist into something far larger than himself. He’d pushed the leviathan away.

This time, it was different. It was ravenous and out for blood.

It would be far more difficult to turn this feeling away.

****

The horde behind them seethed and raged with blood lust, the feeling of their slathering jaws and the heat of their breaths brushing the tiny hairs at her nape. Even though they were very far away, she felt them like one would feel the raging burn of a fire as hot and sticky as it seemed to almost melt her skin. They needed to get away as fast as possible, needed to run. But, their recent obstacle would not allow it. The sparsely placed fangs of stone glinted in the light of the bloated moon while the immense face of it rearing like a stony wave. 

“Well,” Aria spoke normally to the wolf given that their cover had been blown already. “What do we do?”

It was more of a question to herself than to the wolf, but she’d hoped for his input either way. Her gaze followed the great rock face upward, noting the slight slope of it. The sparse vegetation could pose as a possible foothold, her mind immediately flying to the thought of how stable the root systems would be. Those ideas didn’t hinder their possible ascension, but it wouldn’t help them either. No matter how she viewed it, it seemed to be the only way and that alone didn’t alleviate the unease coiling in her belly. She was starkly reminded of how she’d never climbed rock before.

A rumble shook her from behind, the girl turning in her seat to find the band had significantly closed the distance between them. A flare of panic and she quickly twisted back to search for any ways up and any starting point she could use. Sliding down quickly, she rushed to toward the towering rock wall.

“I think it would be better if climb separately.” She stated, glancing behind to find the wolf no longer there.

If we must…The wolf grumbled, obviously reluctant to let the girl go so easily. She felt her heart jerk a little at the thought, the fondness she’d carried since their first encounter in the camp glowing brighter within her. She respected the old Warg and knew his reasoning behind his unwillingness to leave her dove deeper than she could fathom.

But, time was not on their side and neither was their ability to move together. They had to take on the new obstacle as two singular units. Wherein a tiny part of her would find it less painful to ride upon him as he climbed and performed most of the hard labor, she couldn’t allow herself to rely on him in that way anymore. He was injured and would become even more so if he were to scale the rock face himself.

Clattering stones signaled movement from her side and she wildly glanced over to spot Tane clambering upward. Muscles bulged underneath thick fur, claws gripping the rough stone. It didn’t surprise Aria that he’d started without her. But, in a way, she felt akin to the weak child in the tug of rope section during gym class. Being left behind caused the bile to surge in the back of her throat, immediately finding her hand seeking stone to grip.

An overhand of rock hung precariously above her head, the way there seeming less than ideal but certainly doable. She glanced behind her, noting the details of the band she’d not been able to identify before. Reality began to gnaw at her heels, the pressure of their possible demise all but screaming within her brain. She shifted her gaze again and followed it to the overhang.

Little Cub, you must climb. Urged the Warg as he scaled the overhand. They are almost upon you!

She growled, gripping the first set of jagged stones that dotted the face of the wall. Her fingers ached as they dug into the harsh grit of stone and dust, her arms screaming as she hoisted herself upward. She could feel the stretch and contortion within her very marrow, warping the sinew and bundles of muscle beneath her dermis. She could almost cry out in pain, but refrained. She knew if she did it would only highlight the weakness she felt burning through her entire being.

Instead of focusing on her agony, she pushed the direction of her thoughts toward scaling the immense obstacle before her. Jagged stone after jagged stone attempted to best her, but she rose past them. Bits of pebble and damp rock dust fell to the earth below, but she refrained from gazing down to what she’d left behind. Even more bits of hard debris bit into the soft flesh of her palm, her fingers digging into what she wished was something softer than rock. She was lucky the prior torrent had doused the stone enough for decent purchase, the surface chilled beneath her fingertips.  Every ounce of her being begged for respite, yet she didn’t heel. All she knew in that moment was to get away. To succeed. To live.

Soon, she met the wolf at the precipice of their overhang and stood atop it with the air of a victorious mountain climber. In her mind, she’d just ascended Mount Everest and had lived to tell the tale. The Warg bumped her with his head, nodding toward the remaining leg of their vertical journey. A large sigh escaped her lips until she moved to step away and felt something jostle beneath her.

Attempting the same maneuver, she grew ecstatic to find the area of the stone beneath them had worked themselves loose. It didn’t take long for a strategic plan to form within her mind, her eyes darting around to locate even more of the unfastened rock. It hadn’t occurred to her previously that she could, in a sense, stop the band from closing the distance quickly. She’d been too wrapped within her own panic to know she could control a bit of their escape.

Forest greens met teal with a knowing expression.

 “I have an idea.” She stated, pointing her index finger at the rocks. “I think those are loose. If we can jump on them, they will fall and give us some time.”

The wolf perked his ears, head tilting to the side in comprehension. His eyes shone with curiosity with a murmur of caution as well. She didn’t blame him, knowing that if their plan backfired, they could lose their lives. It would take the band time to scale the rocky wall, but there were many of them. Their numbers and weapons would most likely find their marks sooner than she could escape.

Finally, Tane nodded slowly. With the unspoken agreement, the duo glanced down at darkened stone. Aria stood straight, her shoulders uncurling. She felt her bones creak, sore to the very marrow. But, determination trumped any pain she could possibly feel in that moment. It was a beast, roaring for her to retaliate and survive. She could no more ignore it as she could ignore the panic still raging within her being.

 Turning to Tane once again, the wolf nodded as they slowly crept toward the edge.

She wasn’t sure if the plan would be successful. She’d always seemed to work well under pressure, to her own ill-fated luck. If her nocturnal escape seemed anything to go by, she always found herself clearly able to strategize through pressure and panic.

 Aria breathed a simple countdown, the wolf awaiting her signal. With a sharp intake of breath, she gave him a curt dip of her chin and used every ounce of her strength to jump upon the wobbly stones. The soles of her tennis shoes slapped against wet surface, sending jolting vibrations of power through her extremities. She’d sworn the used as much power as her frame could muster.

Instead, she was met with nothing. She blew a breath of disappointment, feeling deep within the biting realization that she should have witnessed better results. She did, in fact, perform vigorously. The blow had been the best she could have delivered. She cast her gaze downward, witnessing the formidable approach of their enemy. A clenching in her heart had her blinking in disgust, but in a matter of moments, she recognized they were not through yet.

It was Tane’s turn almost mere breaths after Aria’s. Immediately, she understood her folly upon discovering his weight and energy would perform much better than she ever could have done. Deep concentration etched itself within the vibrant teal of his eyes, his gaze cast upon the flat surface of the rock. Muscles bulged underneath hide while he lifted upon his powerful haunches like a rearing stallion, slamming his mighty paws down upon the plane of pebble and grit.  The rock shivered beneath her, loud clacks and a pattering of grit spraying upon the soil they’d left down below. To her joy, however, she felt the hard surface shift beneath her soles. The stone loosened with a crack, beginning to crumble under their feet.

So lost was she in the moment, she had comprehend the danger she had placed herself in. As the rock loosened and clattered upon the soil, the very center of her gravity upended itself around her. Her balance chose to violently rip itself away, leaving her a jumbled mess of shaking legs and flailing arms.

She felt something solid shove her to the side and away from the peril, a silent order to move quickly dashing her jolt of unwarranted astonishment. Horrid eruptions of howls and cries of anger surrounded her, pounding within her brain like hammers to a metal anvil. It was by shear force, and perhaps a sliver of luck, that she’d been thrust away from imminent danger as quickly as her companion had done.

Once upon solid rock, she observed the fruits of their labor crash through the ranks of their approaching enemy. A few met their fated end under the large boulders, the sight leaving Aria’s stomach to twist in disgust. But, she found she could not look away. Her eyes remained, a reminder that there had been a power much stronger than that of her foe that could douse them like a flood to a flame.

It was a short lived victory, however. Those of the band who remained lifted their gazes upward with nasty gleams of malice. Arrows were knocked and swords were drawn, their song splitting like a broken record’s whir through the sudden rumble of thunder. A nasty shiver sliced down Aria’s spine and she grimaced.

“We’ve got to move on, They will…” She attempted. However, her statement fell short as an arrow whizzed past her ear. She felt no pain, just inching to the side in time for it to miss slicing the tender flesh there.

Reaching behind her, she grasped an arrow from her quiver. Loading it, she lifted her sights toward the enemy. A very brave Warg slid to a halt just beneath their mini land rock slide. Its blazing anger and reverberating growls sifted through the steady beating of her heart, causing her resolve to falter. For some unknown reason, she felt as if she should have been more fearful of the thing. Instead, she felt its possible ascension toward them even more horrifying.

Aria loosed the arrow, the murderous projectile cleaving the unprotected flesh of an orc’s throat. Soon, she’d sent a volley down below, eradicating a few that dared venture forth past their downed brethren. She did this countless times, unknowing of the amount she’d sent to the throng below.

Again, she reached behind her to load her weapon only to find there were no arrows left. Her heart froze, the blood in her veins turning to ice. Panic flooded her as she glanced at Tane. The wolf turned behind, eyeing what remained of their upward trek. To her dismay, a large span of rocky wall rose high above them. It seemed so tall, looming over them like a shadowy demon. Hoping with all her might that it did end, she turned to the band of orcs seething below. They had gotten closer, a duo of them beginning to claw at the wall.

They needed to move.

A hand gripped upon the stones at her feet, a scream tearing from her throat. As if by shear instinct, she grasped the pendent under her sweatshirt and brought it to the night air. It formed in her palm, the blade singing through the air as she sliced at the claws. Black blood spurted from the dismembered appendage, a hand flopping upon the stone at her boots. The other hand fared the same just as it came to grab at her clothing. This sent the owners of the limbs to tumble along the rocky face and plunge into the throng below with a gurgling wail.

Meanwhile, her companion seemed to have had providence in sending another volley of rock below. Using another section of stone she’d failed to notice before, Tane slammed one last time into the rock. Luckily for them, the final blow delivered her the exact outcome she’d hoped for. A larger rock separated from the face, groaning as it plummeted. It smacked the sides of the hill, crashing into the unsuspecting victims in its path and shaving what various enemies had managed to clutch onto the rocky wall. Sickening crunches erupted through the trees, followed by cries of pain and howls of agony.

We must go, now. Tane affirmed harshly. Aria jerked her chin upward toward the wall looming above, spying nothing that would make their ascension any easier.

Shoving down the bubbling doubt within her soul, she ground her teeth as she grasped the stone and began to climb. Tumbling pebbles lit upon her scalp and she winced at their bite. The howls didn’t lessen below them, her nerves erupting with fire under her flesh. She could sense it just beneath the rough pads of her fingertips, igniting in her core enough to send her adrenaline ablaze. She vowed then that she would never rock climb again unless she had to.

Her nails bit into the sloppy dust upon the flat surface of another jagged stone. It jutted further out, allowing her to scale it with ease. Her shoes scraped against the underside as her companion leapt upon it with the grace of a wild cat. With a grunt of displeasure, and a slight bit of pain, she managed to clamber upon up and over the rough point and to safety.

There were many the same that she managed to successfully scramble atop, her companion just within sight to provide support if only morally speaking. She could feel his warmth through her skin, his fur brushing her nose while she attempted to scrabble on top of the pointed tooth of the rock. But, she refrained from his pressure to aid her. She wanted, needed to do it alone. She couldn’t understand why and only knew the feeling to settle upon her like dust atop a shelf.

To her joy, she saw the gleam of moonlight just beyond the precipice. Her heart fluttered, the howls behind them seeming much farther away. In two breaths, she’d surmounted the last remaining stone, feeling the rush of glee burn through her with the gusto akin to a wildfire. Her skin burned, head whirring with thoughts of escape.

Below, the Wargs and their riders had cloned the duo’s idea by splitting apart and clearing the stones separately. The clacking maws of the beasts’ echoed from the very recesses of her mind, the fear that had been thrown against the cave wall and dashed so many times still attempting purchase upon her core. It bit and clawed and ripped at the edges of her consciousness, similar noises shadowing the ascension of their enemies.   

Let us fly now, Little Cub. Tane ordered. Your dwarves are just over that other hill.

Beyond them, Aria spotted a stretch of forest flatland dotted with the silhouettes of slim trees. A ridge akin to the one they’d scaled moments ago unfolded long and welcoming. If Tane’s statement held truth, her companions would be just beyond the foliage and timber. She could see them again, for what it was worth, and know they were safe. She may not have known them very well before, but she didn’t find herself ever wishing to see a group of strangers with such gusto as she did then.

Not waiting for any other signal, she nodded at his previous statement and leapt upon his back with unburdened strength. She slung her bow over her shoulder and doused the sword, stowing the pendant underneath her sweatshirt. The Warg spun up0n his haunches, claws scraping into the damp stone, and blasted down the other side of the face opposite their opponents. Their wails faded along with their splitting howls and Aria did what she could to press them from her mind.

The trees whipped past them, a strength rivaling that of any powerful motor vehicle boiling beneath her. The Warg galloped as if the hounds of hell were upon him, burning at his hocks and threatening to sink their fangs into the supple flesh of his haunches. She hoped against hope that her companion held enough strength to continue, knowing his injuries were far past her ability to assess.

As if reading her mind, he acknowledged her worry with a sense of adrenaline. In truth, he was growing fatigued, but he knew their goal was to reach the dwarves. It was something she’d gotten him in to and a mission he needed to accomplish. That alone drove him, keeping his paws sure and muscles unburdened while he surpassed the thorny brush and thick undergrowth.

She pressed her fingers deep into her fur, feeling his influence as it engulfed her in its heat. Lowering her face into his ebony strands, she wished for both of their safe arrivals to where they needed to go. She prayed for a clear path, an easy warning, and an even better outcome of escape. Her soul cried out for aid, knowing they were too close to give up and too far to go back. She’d gotten to where she was now by sure stupidity or luck, but she’d be damned if she allowed anything else to buckle beneath them or lose another friend.

Deep within her, she accessed what she could of her own energy. She knew little of magic or if it was even real. So far, she witness beings she only knew from stories. Those very stories mirroring the same enemy they’d left behind also knew of an ability far surpassing her willingness to comprehend. She’d heard of the influence, knew of the acts in which the power has been used for. Each and every one held meaning as well as their own ending to their story.

But, Aria had never believed them. They were stories told by a warm, roaring fire with steaming mugs of cider or hot chocolate. They were used to inspire, to scare, and to lift the spirits of all who listened. They were not meant to pass knowledge unless morally so. Now, as she slammed her eyes shut and dug her fingers even deeper into the soft undercoat of her mount, she vowed to herself she would believe the stories she’d heard from her grandmother and utilize what knowledge she’d been given prior to her untimely passing.

She lifted her hopes and prayers to whatever power she felt shifting like errant waves of sand in the Sahara desert, sifting with the currents of the passing breeze. To whoever chose to listen, she demanded they arrived safely to their goal and that they made it out alive. Each and every one of her newfound friends she commanded to the ultimate power to keep safe. Who or what that may have been, she didn’t know nor did she care. All that mattered was that she existed to see another day.

To whoever choses to listen, she thought. Please let us get there alive. Please let the company be safe and please help us escape. I don’t care what it takes, just let us live!

She threw it into the void, into the vastness of the world she didn’t know. She flung it out to the air and the shifting clouds, the bloated moon and the sparkling stars. She felt it take wing, fluttering beyond the reaches of her mind toward the jagged fangs of mountain peaks and swirling mists. Somehow, she knew it to land somewhere for a warmth began to spread through her veins.

Had something heard her?

She didn’t gain a chance to recognize it, however, feeling an all too familiar sensation brush through her brain like butter upon a steaming roll.

 I hear your prayer, Little Cub, Tane’s mind caressed hers, listening to her thoughts.  Do not worry. This old Warg will not tire so easily. Not until you are delivered to your dwarves.

Hot tears stung the corners of her eyes, her lip trembling. This creature owed her nothing and she’d expected nothing. But, he’d proven himself to be the upmost companion and the strength she’d needed in various situations. There was no denying that he would stick with her through the roughest times and he would never ask her for anything. She needed that because, deep down, she knew she would do the same thing.

It was then she realized how important the Warg could, and already appeared, to be.

 Thank you, Tane.

The trail of tears dried upon her cheeks while she blinked the rest of them away. They disappointed, replaced by the motivation she’d needed. Her moral skyrocketed, her core soaring like the tawny owl silently through the tree tops. She felt her heart thundering to match the steady beats of her companion’s paws, and her eyes lifted toward the ridge before them.

A faint, almost deep lilac glow seeped through the inky black silhouettes of the trees lining the ridge. She blinked again, having seen it the second time. It was, in fact, a pale light and perhaps it was the dawn. The realization of this caused her breath to hitch, understanding now that she’d spent a whole night running for her life. To say she’d experienced anything less was an understatement, but given the circumstances, she couldn’t deny the very difference in which she’d felt.

Adrenaline was a funny thing.

The lilac bloomed into periwinkle, the deep and dark of the night sky suddenly fading into royal blue. The sparkling stars began to dissipate, the bloated moon’s glow slowly dousing itself. It was slow, seemingly unnoticeable by everything else. But for her, it was everything.

Her hopes were arising and with it came the dawn.

They were so close. So very close.

The ridge ahead rose higher toward the sky, what little blush of light suddenly being shrouded by the behemoth of an even larger rock wall. Aria’s spirit fell to her stomach, biting into the glowing edges of her hope. She felt the crease in her brow form, the corners of her mouth turning down with her disappointment. But, something caught her ears just as Tane arrived at the base of the ridge. He, too, seemed to hear it. His ears perked, a heavy quiet falling between the two.

Then, they heard it again.

Voices. Shouts of anger and shock.

The dwarves.

She forgot the feeling of dread and sorrow. Tossed away was her sensation of  dissatisfaction, a large space vacated for the soaring of her hope as it spread great golden wings to burst through and take to the ever glowing pink of the dawn. She was a phoenix, awaking with the brightness of flame from the embers of her darkness.

They were so, so close.

But, first, they had to climb once again.

Aria slipped from her mount, clattering pebbles echoing through the confines of her brain. The gears cranked and clanged there while she steadily assessed her obstacle. Jagged stones jutted out from the face of the ridge, brave vegetation in the form of wiry brush reaching toward the sky through cracks in crumbling stone. Like them, she felt she could bust through concrete like a dandelion to reach her goal.

A generous slope allowed the two to gain better footing compared to their prior experience. Instead of feeling as if she were scaling the side of building, she was given the impression of a very strict inclination of a hill. A mountainside, per say, and one she would have never found herself climbing otherwise. But, she was not in Oklahoma anymore. Therefore, she deemed herself somewhat of a climber of topographical high rises.

The grit bit into her the soft flesh of her palms, her tolerance for pain dashing away the wince that would have come right after. Her nails dug into the damp stones, her arms screaming while she pulled herself to the first flat portion of an overhand. Tane went ahead, as was intended to keep watch over her shoulder.

Behind them, the garbled howls of anger signified their enemy had all but scaled their prior obstacle. Panic rose its nasty head, Aria’s eyes blazing wild with it as she refrained from glancing back. She could feel the similar emotion surge from her companion as he arrived at the very precipice of the ridge, powerful neck leaning down to observe her while she climbed.

Her heart pounded beneath her breast bone, threating to split through her ribcage with terror driven gusto.

She reached the next jagged overhang, and the next, until she reached the very last. By that time, Aria felt her arms quake while she attempted to drag herself up upon its flat plane. Her body tremored, and she exhaled an uneven breath across her dried lips. She gripped the edge of the stone, feeling the poison of her weakness beginning to take its toll. Still, she persisted, trying with all her might to scramble to safety. Another howl ripped the night, cries of anger slicing the even brighter sky above them. She inhaled again with tremored gasps, grunting deeply while her fingers clambered to find purchase upon the rock.

 But, it seemed gravity was not in her favor in that moment. It had abandoned her then, reminding her that she was not made of the material she attempted to climb. Her fingers began slipping, nails grinding into the grit and dirt of the stone. She could feel it like fingers on a chalk board, screeching silently against the very marrow of her bones. Her weary muscles were spent, as was she.

And so Aria fell once again.

Weightlessness returned and with it the memories of her blackened descent into the pit of death. Panic ensnared her, leaving her paralyzed. In her attempt to become better than what she was physically capable of doing, she’d tried to scale the rock face in haste. Below them lay a vast amount of space she’d crossed, the ground quickly rising to meet her. If she didn’t act, she’d surly fall to her death. This time, she believed she wouldn’t survive. There were no goblin corpses to cushion her fall and no Tane to keep her safe.

In an instant, the sword appeared before her and untethered itself from her neck. She was unsure of how it had done so, but it mattered not in that moment. It weightlessly flew into the air, gravity powerless to affect it. Her body moved on its own, fingers reaching forward to gather the hilt within her grasp. With great effort, the girl thrust forward toward the rock face. The sharp tip of the weapon snagged upon a crevice, digging deep into the side of the ridge. Her descent halted with a jolt, sending her to collide into the rocks beside her shoulder first. She winced, the harsh thump reminding of her wounds that riddled her body.

Worry crashed into her like angry waves upon crumbling stones. It was not her anxiety, though. She could only feel her unfathomable agony threatening to creep up and burn her once again. It belonged to anther being all together, her mind not finding it too difficult to discern whose uneasiness rushed into her exhausted brain.

I’m okay. She threw to the Warg, his snout leaning dangerously over the edge. I will need new pants after this, though.

Can you climb to me? He asked, his paws quaking with his weight. Even though he’d arrived to the flattest and safest portion of the ridge, she could feel his strength beginning to wane a bit.

She glanced around her, seeing jagged slabs of stone she could easily maneuver to as well as larger boulders lodged within the face of the ridge. On either side were heavy conifers, needles and pine cones causing the limbs to droop. However, the trunks were thick and would support her weight. Even more dotted the path to the nearest rock outcrop. Her eyes flicked to Tane and she nodded. She could reach him.

Another howl ripped through the quiet air. Aria glanced back toward the source, her heart plummeting to the rocks at the sight of the pale orc atop his steed busting through the brush and thicket with the startling speed. Ice blues sliced through the trees, landing upon her with the arsenal of a thousand daggers. She felt her skin crawl again, a new energy raising its head. More Warg riders, and some rider less Wargs, topped the hill. The growing dawn draped them in an angry red hue, the malevolent color glinting from fangs and blood thirsty eyes.

She knew little options hung before her: She could climb straight upward, trip she now noticed would eat away precious time she didn’t possess. Her second option would be to gain access to the rock to her left, a much better option. She had fallen farther than she’d wanted in her unwarranted descent, but gazing at the distance it would take her from her end point to her goal allowed her to make the decision she needed quickly.

Gathering herself, she turned toward the jagged stone overhand and contemplated the best possible way to get there. She could attempt to climb, but her fingers ached horribly. She knew, deep down, she’d have to thrust that pain away. Her life hung in the balance, the enemy cover ground much faster than she’d have predicted. Therefore, her best possible bet was to swing. Sure, it seemed far fetched and she held little in terms of athletics. Still, there seemed to be no other choice.

Biting her lip, Aria placed all of her concentration upon using her body as a tool. She’d never done that before, of course, but there wasn’t much it would take to grab the concept. Since she swung loosely from where Drayuik had sprung from. Using her legs, she recalled the maneuvers in which one would attempt to perform upon a swing set and thrust them forward. She repeated this measure again and again. With each shove, the sword loosened. Bits of rubble and pebbles rained down upon her wrists while she swung.

Finally, gulping a breath of uncertainty, the sword broke loose from its binding with a crack and she soared. It transformed in her hand, the string attaching it around her neck magically connecting the pendent to the sword as if my magnetic purposes. Aria could vaguely recall the sensation of cool air twisting itself into the dirtied strands of her hair. It almost seemed too clean to run its bold digits against her scalp. She was ethereal as she soared, her goal quickly rising to meet her.

You are flying, now.

Aria gasped.

 Spread your wings, interloper, and rid me of your presence.

It was a voice, a voice as deep as amber liquid against a crystal glass.  It was sudden, and it was intrusive, if not all together discourteous. Like a million drums clanging against the deepest portions of her brain, sending tremors to erupt and vibrate through her veins. It was warmth and power and an inferno wrapped up into one single statement. She was neither prepared for it nor was she unprepared. A precipice rose in her mind like the great arms of the trees. Yet, as much as she tried to burrow and find it, she couldn’t. Neither could she focus entirely upon how or why it had gotten to her in the first place. It felt almost familiar, but she couldn’t for the life of her understand why.

Before she could latch onto it, her fingers gained purchase upon the rocks around her with severity. It dashed through her body, jolting like electricity to her very marrow.

A soon as the hard surface met her fingertips, however, she scrambled upon the flat plane before she gained a chance to slip any further. Her eyes traveled upward, her journey very slim. The distance between her and her end goal seemed to not span as long as she’d originally thought. This caused her heart to flip with joy despite the yips and growls seething behind her.

The sword served as her rock-climbing axe. Each thrust into the rock face sent shivers down her spine. The metal grating against the stone felt akin to claws on a chalkboard, her skin crawling as it had done in the dark basin full of bodies. Yet, she knew she needed the exhilaration. She felt her energy depleting the higher she climbed, her lungs burning as if held underwater. Glancing below, she stifled a scream at the sight of her enemy’s ever pressing nearness. 

                As hurriedly as she could, quicken her pace. She heard the snap of jaws below her, her fingers gripping into the gritty rock and palms growing slick. Her nerves combusted within to send shots of flames through her veins and ice down her spine. She scrambled against the ache in her bones, the screaming of her muscles. Her exhalation came short, the desperation to reach the highest point flooding her with unease and the urge to scream. She felt the lucid gusts of Warg breath hot upon her heels, their fangs inches from her flesh.

                She was fortunate, however. It appeared to her that the enemy hadn’t managed to gather enough strength the scale the rock face. In that moment, it was clearly due to their previous exertion. She only knew this, of course, from the lolling tongues dripping drool from the Warg mounts. Aria inhaled shakily as she hung there for a moment to regain dexterity in her digits. Her own tongue felt close to rolling from her lips, her respiration limited thanks to the thin air.

                Being a flatlander as she was, she’d never been to the mountains, thus her lungs were not prepared for the switch in altitude. Assuming the air in Middle Earth was composed of the same things as her home, she felt it the proper solution as to why her body screamed at her to gulp in copious amounts of air.

Clacking brought her gaze below, the riders knocking arrows in their rugged bows. She lifted her eyes beside her, a rock in her path upward. Her next handhold. She inhaled sharply, biting her lip. With a grunt, she launched herself sideways. Her fingers grasped the thick rock, her legs dangling below. Her heart shot into her throat once again, temples pounding.  

                The thwack of arrows upon the stones beside signaled the enemy’s aim to be off. However, she couldn’t deny the fact that it felt too close for comfort and didn’t want to tempt fate any further than she had already.  Hearing them whiz past her sent shivers up her spine as she struggled to climb the rock she held on to. The slick rock almost prevented her from gaining any purchase upon it and the quacking of her limbs didn’t aid the process either. But, she continued. She had to. There was no other choice.

                Suddenly, the slick soles of her left tennis shoe lost contact with the gleaming rock. It slipped, causing the hand on the same side to slip from the sudden shift in weight. One hand remained wrapped around the sword as the rest of her dangling precariously above gnashing maws and orcs filled with blood lust. She heard the knocking of more arrows, stiffened as they erupted from their weapons and crashed into the mountain face around her. She felt one graze her calf, the pain lancing like their claws could have yielded upon her flesh. But, she pushed the agony down, using her weight to swing the limp arm up and grab the rock. Her fingers gained procurement and she clambered up the rock swiftly as she could.

                She continued onward, ignoring the warm blood trickling down her leg from her new wound. The burn upon her cheek had not ached, much to her surprise. She did her best to dash away the ache from the wound in her other calf and the sting of the bite wounds on her neck and shoulders, somehow feeling as if those weren’t going to heal as best as the others. She muted the shiver clawing upon her spine at the thought of possible infection and inflammation from the bites.

She’d never had orc or goblin teeth sink into her flesh, the possibility of venom unknown to her just enough to cause her blood to curdle with worry. Her mind lingered upon the facts concerning a Komodo dragon bite, knowing certain venomous qualities lingered within the saliva. It caused issues in blood pressure, weakening their prey until they were unable to fight.

                Was that what she felt? Did either bite contain life threatening venom? The thought alone made her stomach knot even more as she finally reached the very top of the mountain face. Flinging the sword atop the flat stone, she grunted to hoist herself up over the precipice of the ridge. Tane stood, awaiting her ascension, warm sunlight striking off his ebony fur. He was stunning in his carnal beauty, muscles bulging beneath taut skin.

The last rock posed an issue. But, just as she reached for it, she felt something grab her hood and lift her from the rock. The force dragged her over the very edge, dirt and rubble raining down upon the enemy below as the powerful force set her down safely on flat ground. She rested on her knees, fingers and palms splayed upon the chilled rock. Tane grunted from the exertion, teal eyes resting upon her. His jaws released her hoodie and he sniffed her, assessing her for any damage.  

                “I’m fine. Just a nick from an arrow.” She acknowledged breathlessly. Everything ached. “Thank you for rescuing me again.”

                The wolf nodded, glancing toward the now visible horizon. Before them, the dawn spread sharp shards of pink and reds through the now dissipating thunder clouds. The moon still hung bloated in the sky, gleaming silver tendrils of its light spilling upon the moist rocks. She could smell the damp earth past her own filth, drinking in the chill mountain air.

                However, she also spotted something that didn’t seem to belong among the various spotting of tree trunk and underbrush. Pushing back the hood Tane had pulled up while pulling her from the rock face, she squinted. Deep inside, she knew exactly what the hasty movement meant but right then it only seemed like a dream. Her heart pounded against her breast bone, threating to rip out of her rib cage and flop upon the stone at her knees.

                Your dwarves, Little Cub, Tane tilted his head toward the slope below. There they are. 

                Yes, she thought. There they were, alive and well moving through the underbrush. Gandalf led them, Thorin at his heels. Her heart pattered in her chest.

They were alive and well, if not a tad horrified. But, that was about to change.

                Now, it was time to go warn them. 

Chapter Text

Out of the Frying Pan

“Escaping goblins to be caught by wolves!” he said, and it became a proverb, though we now say ‘out of the frying-pan into the fire’ in the same sort of uncomfortable situations.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit, or There and Back Again

            A great expanse of rocky hill, wiry bushes, and the slim line of trees spread before the duo could reach their intended target. On foot, Aria figured she’d never reach them in time. But, it didn’t matter the length. She knew Tane could clear the grand stretch before the horde below peaked.  Behind the pair seethed a pool of gnashing fangs and slathering maws. The rusted swords had been stowed to allow the riders the ability to scale the great wall of the ridge.

                The girl turned away from the nightmare and gazed across the foothill. Tane nodded while she wrapped her fingers into his fur and scrambled atop him. Quickly, he leapt from the top of their bested hill and galloped down the side and left the throng of evil behind. The thunderous beating of Tane’s paws upon the moist earth fell in time with Aria’s heartbeats. She could sense the squeeze of anticipation upon the organ as they drew closer.

                They were almost there.

                Topping a small outcrop, she garnered a more detailed look at the company of dwarves. They were at least a league ahead of her and the Warg, but nothing they couldn’t surpass. The weakness she’d felt from her companion still grew, but there was no stopping him. He would deliver her to her company or he would die trying.

                She spotted the tall elder rushing through the thorny brush, Thorin hot upon his heels with brandished sword. The brothers were not far behind, followed by the numerous others. She swore she could pick Bofur from the scrambling dwarves, his floppy trilby shifted upward haphazardly upon his head. The very large dwarf, Bombur if she recalled correctly, held onto his large spoon for dear life while clambering after the bearded man.  To her shock, she spied amongst them the glimmering blue glow, knowing there to only be one item that could produce such a glow and to be only one being to own it.

                Bilbo.

                However, her small sense of excitement faded violently right as a howl ripped through the foothill. It reverberated along the thick trunks of the trees, zipping like a razor wire across the canopy. The heads of the dwarves whipped toward the source as they were suddenly alerted to the incoming enemy. Their trajectory halted suddenly, the elder stiffening.

                She wanted to scream, to wave her arms wildly through the air to signify that she was there. That she was friendly. But, she wondered if they could see her at all. The distance they’d cleared from the clambering mob had been great, but they still had many yards to go before reaching the dwarves. Perhaps, in the faint light of the new morning, her profile was indistinguishable.

                Tane stepped forward, abruptly transitioning into a diligent trot. But, Aria couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. The dwarves’ movements were stiff, some even acting erratic. They were flailing their arms about, panic wafting along the crisp breeze and bathing her nostrils with its profuse aroma. Tane’s ears pricked forward to signify his alert to the shift as well.

                Then, Aria noticed one of the dwarves lift an object eyelevel. She wasn’t sure what it could have been, the actions of her mount not entirely smooth enough to capture any details. A sharp crack lit the air just as a thin object whizzed toward her with break neck speed, cutting through the chill morning air like it had been made of butter. She heard its song while it sailed in her direction, her mind too jostled to focus.

She felt the jolt of its impact before a fierce blossom of pain erupted through her right shoulder.  A cry of agony tore from her throat, the resonance thundering through the wood and into the throng of dwarves below. Tears flushed her vision while she shifted her gaze to what had caused the sudden injury. She was appalled to find the shaft of an arrow impaling the flesh there, the fletching a stark contrast to the ones she’d seen from the orcs.

She felt Tane’s worry blind her mind, but instead of causing him to halt, she issued a command to keep moving. They couldn’t stop, even as warm blood trailed down her arm stained her hooded sweatshirt crimson and the wound seared like the blazing metal that had burned her cheek. She lifted her hand to cup the projectile, the wound smarting so suddenly as she accidently tipped the wooden shaft. She hissed through her teeth, still urging her mount to move forward.

They neared the final stretch, and Aria’s watery gaze met the wide and wild browns of Kili. To her disappointment, he dropped his bow with the weight of someone who’d just lost a dear comrade in battle. An unused arrow lay against the arching curves of the wooden weapon, fletching clasped between bow string and fingers.

It had been him. He’d been the one that shot her.

She couldn’t blame him. There wasn’t any time for blame. She could only know the rush of the wind and the need to warn the others. Again, she was reminded of how small her window they had. The brewing storm of orcs and Wargs grew closer from behind, barreling forth with hunger and hatred. She released her injured shoulder just as one of the enemy topped the mountain behind the duo.

At first, she jolted in surprise with a bark of shock. The sudden intrusion caused her heart to start painfully. But in another breath, Drayuik formed as she brought the weapon forth with her useful arm. In a flash of light and song of metal against flesh, she felled it, slicing it in two with every ounce of anger and power she held. Her rage was not unwarranted. She’d been shot again, another scar to add to her growing collection. No matter if the fire had been friendly, it was a manner of annoyance to the point of insanity.

She couldn’t stand there at the precipice and slay them all. They needed to move, and as if he could understand, she felt her mount turn sharply with the swiftness of the wind and barrel down the side of the ridge. She tucked herself low against the scruff of his neck, his fur tickling her nose while the once soft breeze buffeted the nasty tendrils of her hair.

Ahead, she witnessed the dwarves readying themselves. She could only imagine what she might have appeared to them. It was probable that the visage of a Warg barreling toward them was not very welcomed given the mob she’d left behind. She only hoped that they would see her soon before Kili went to action again.

With their weapons bared like fangs, Kili the only one to falter, she slowly lifted herself in order to be seen. The wind spread through her thick hair, scraping across the angry wound upon her face until her eyes watered. Through the blurry tears, she watched as a wave of confusion and astonishment spread across their rugged faces, their eyes widening with disbelief and unable to understand what to do.

 “Miss Jackson!” Fili was the first to break from unified shock of his group. “You’re alive!”

Tane slowed his lope, trotting toward the others with a stiffness she could only associate with caution. She felt his rigid muscles beneath her as he halted directly in front of them so she could slide from his proud back.

“It appears I am.” She told them, glancing over her shoulder at the writhing horror she’d left behind. The enemy had not broken over the ridge, a welcomed relief but one she knew would be short lived. She wasn’t sure what the group intended to do, but if she had any say it would be not to linger here.  

It was then she spotted Bilbo. He clutched his sword, the blue of its glow a striking cobalt against the faint fingers of dawn. Her heart clenched in her chest, squeezing as if a fist had balled it within its palm. She couldn’t help the sting of tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes, nor could she ignore the rivers that began to run down her stained cheeks. Her wound smarted with the saline, the tears building even more as she attempted to blink them.

“B-Bilbo?” She stuttered as she stepped cautiously toward him. She’d spotted him amongst the group earlier, but for a moment, she hadn’t believed it was truly him.

Now, as his green and blue gaze met hers with the kind of wetness she could only associate with his own tears, she knew immediately that he was alive and well.

“I saw you fall…” She breathed, her voice a soft whisper.

He smirked through the tears that trailed along his dirty face. “Yes. I did. But I am alright.”

She scoffed lightly. “You sure are. And you look just fine.”

“Better than you. What happened to you?” He asked. “You don’t look so good.”

“Eye, an ya don smell too good, neither.” A lilting voice came through the group. Furry flaps and a scraggly beard arrived near her and Aria couldn’t help but smiled even more. “Where ‘ave ya been, lass? Rollin’ around in a dung heap?”

“Here now,” Fili snarled. “She is alive. That’s all that matters.”

“Is that an arrow sticking from yer shoulder, Miss?” Another gruff voice entered. The grey bearded dwarf with the tin horn strode forward, eyes narrowed at her wounds. “An is tha a burn across yer face? My, what happened to ya?”

She shook her head, the muscles within her neck and shoulders arguing with each movement.

Something roared from behind the encircling dwarves. A mane of silver and black pushed its way through the throng, growling and grumbling to himself. His crisp blue gaze met hers, widening at the sudden realization that she was, in fact, there before her. The shock lasted for a total of two breaths before it quickly shifted to a snarl.

“What in Mahal is going on here?” Thorin bellowed at her. “Explain yourself!”

She pinned the dwarf king with a glare, clenching her fists. The sword that had tucked itself away throbbed with her anger. “I am not explaining anything to you. We have larger worries than where I have been and where I got these injuries. If I were you, I would think about moving away from here.”

The dwarf king snarled again, teeth bared like fangs. She felt Tane move behind her, his hackles raised. A dangerous growl reverberated through her, his anger and need to protect almost drowning her on land. She held her hand out behind her, her mind sweeping within his to calm him. He stifled, but the glare she felt slice through the brand new morning was enough to draw blood. 

“That is most likely the safest option.” A gruff, but confident voice agreed. Her eyes lit upon the pale blues of the elder she’d met earlier. His weathered face and eyes had seen many things in his life, but he wore an aura that was unlike anything she’d encountered so far. It was warm and kind, like the trusted grandfather figure she never knew. “We will not be alone in a few moments. What Aria states is true. Trouble lies beyond those hills.”

How had he known her name?

As if on cue, a howl split through the trees. Every dwarf started except for their leader, who glanced behind the girl with even more fury than before. She knew immediately he would blame her for their incoming friends, but she also knew she needed to let it slide from her shoulders. She glanced over her the uninjured one to see the fingers of dawn gleaming upon the pale orc and his mount.  

The fury Thorin felt would soon melt away into fear. It was guaranteed they had seen their fair share of horrors. She didn’t doubt it for one second. But if only they knew what she had witnessed in the caves. If only they’d felt the searing pain she’d endured. Then, they would understand the sudden jolt of horror that ripped down her spinal column to burst forth from her fingers and the readiness to flee.

The pale leader’s piercing gaze ripped across the soft fingers of sunlight as it shafted through the trees, a snarl plastered upon his face. As they landed upon her, she swore she spotted a glint of recognition at his past deeds gleam. It shifted beneath the scars and malice of his features like a ripple upon a translucent pool.  She knew immediately he could see the seared flesh upon her face and taste the victory at the visage of his mark as if it were ripe fruit from the vine. It angered her but it horrified her even more.

“Out of the frying pan,” Thorin growled from behind her.

“And into the fire.” The elder exclaimed as she turned to them. He brandished the sword at his hip and a gnarled staff. “Run!”

She didn’t think twice and neither did the company. In one surge of motion, the group surged forward and fled toward the trees. Their footfalls were thunder against her ear drums, matching her heartbeats as if cut from the same cloth. Tane followed, urging her within their connection to hop upon the safety of his back. She refused, knowing that it would take what little time they had to maneuver her injured self upon him. Even though she knew she’d done it before, it was an even larger question as to if she could perform such a feat again.

Before them stretched a flat plain of brush and trees. The pink dawn struggled to pierced the heavy canopy, leaving long shadows to distort and spill upon the gravel and soil. However, she could see the trees thin ahead and a thought of unease washed over her in a wave. Tane seemed to understand, his agreement apparent between their telepathic bond.

While the company galloped upon the heels of the elder, Bilbo did his best beside her and the Warg. She could sense the struggle of such an act for his smaller frame, knowing that she was experiencing issues as well. But, too fall behind due to her inability to catch up would slice precious time they didn’t have. She would never ask the dwarves to wait for her, knowing they valued her life as just another and not with any importance.

So, she endured and she prayed the Hobbit would, too. Because time was not their colleague in that moment and the most obvious of ideas only seemed to hinder them more.

The party halted in a frenzy of sprayed soil and fear, peering into the horrid sight that stretched before them. At first, Aria grew confused in the sudden shift of trajectory. But, as soon as her eyes landed upon the reasoning. She felt her blood freeze, her inhalation hitching in her throat as if she’d forgotten how to breathe. The visage before them was far from peaceful. It was horrible, terrifying, and ultimately their end if they failed to defend themselves.

The trees thinned where they had stopped their flight, opening into the great pink sky free of clouds. A hint of star shine split through the periwinkle and blush. In a normal situation, Aria would find herself admiring the beauty that spanned before her. But, the crippling sense of dread dropped her stomach to her feet.

Along with a beautiful view of the sky came the sheer drop of the earth into a plain below. They stood a half mile from the apex of a cliff, the gleam of water bodies showing just how far the drop actually was. A few trees hugged along the edge, larger ones clinging to the summit of soil and rock that had yet to erode with time.

They were trapped.

A blinding panic began to build within her, but a voice brought her from the brink as it erupted through their ranks.

“To the trees!” The mysterious elder boomed. With the thrust of his staff, he shot forward and toward the outer edge of the forest.

Aria had scaled trees in the past and when she was younger. A lover of nature, she’d always wished to gain a birds eye view of the world within the ancient boughs of the oaks she’d grown up around. She’ find herself with a book curled within the palm of a great crook of sturdy trunks.

Now, she wished for an oak tree. The towering pines were thinner compared to her childhood trees. The spindly branches stretched out, their needles like porcupine quills. Pinecones dangled in clusters, rustled and jostled aside as the dwarves began to leap upon the branches. It surprised her with their weight as to how quickly and nimbly they flew to the branches.

She turned, her eyes meeting that of Tane’s. Worry spread through her at the sudden thought that he’d be down upon the ground alone with no one to fight by his side. It crashed against her in waves of dread and sorrow, knowing that she couldn’t leave him. She wouldn’t.

You must go, Little Cub. The old wolf’s eyes smirked at her and she felt it.

She glanced behind, seeing the swarm of the enemy nearly another half mile from where they stood.

Aria shook her head. “No. I will stay. But we need to get Bilbo out of the way. The others are in the trees already.”

You mean the little humanoid creature stumbling about? The wolf scoffed.

Aria snorted despite the situation. “Yes. That little creature.”

The wolf nodded, turning toward the bewildered Hobbit while he gallivanted toward the trunks of the timber like a drunken fool. She didn’t blame him for his sudden sense of bafflement. She would have been too in a different time and place. It was an armor she wore only because she’d been through traumatizing moments before, when she was on Earth. It didn’t justify the fact that she’d seen things she could never thrust from her mind. But, she could remain calm when the pressure built enough to cause issues. Every so often, she would falter. But when another was involved, she couldn’t allow herself to be.

With a great leap toward Bilbo, Tane landed directly in the Hobbits path. The swarm of their enemy swelled not too far from where they stood. Time began to tick against them and Aria knew she needed to move. Her good shoulder moved, hand flying from its grasp upon Tane’s fur to grab Bilbo by the collar of his soiled corduroy. He was heavy, her injured shoulder screaming at the strain as it clutched for greater purchase upon the wolf’s mane.

She plopped him down in front of her, his curly hair just under her nose. With a protective instinct she hadn’t known, she wrapped her arms around his waist and secured him against herself. Her other arm came from his other side to entwine themselves in Tane’s fur.

“Hold on, Bilbo.” She whispered into his hair. It reeked of fish and sewage. “Climb the tree right as we reach them.”

Just as soon as they’d gained a momentum, a Warg burst from the underbrush nearest them. Its slathering maw riddled with razor fangs dripped with silvery drool. Bilbo gasped in shock, pressing against the girl as if he wished to scrambled over her and away. Tane halted, every muscle fiber a live wire beneath his fur as it bristled with hostility and anger.

For a moment, she reviewed the other’s behind it. Their gleaming eyes and rusted weapons were ready, dull and chipped blades itching for murder. Ahead of them, leading the charge, was Azog. She’d never seen something so raw and powerful, but so evil. They would soon be upon them in little time, a deep fear the girl had kept at bay starting to boil like acid within her.

“Bilbo,” Aria glanced up over his head. “We are going to have to fight, okay? Get your sword ready.”

She hadn’t wished for the fight to have reached them so soon. She’d planned to have the dwarves grab the Hobbit and get him to safety. From there, she would have pitched the idea of thwarting the cluster of orcs away to her companion. If he refused, they would have fought with only one outcome if she were honest with herself. If he’d agreed, they would have run as fast and as far away as possible. That outcome, too, would not have been predictable.

It was insanity incarnate, but they had no other choice.

Tane braced for battle while she attempted to prepare as well. Various things swarmed around them, a cacophony of noises and smells and sensations she couldn’t comprehend. But, with the instinct of a battle worn soldier, she felt herself bracing as well for what the creature snarling before them would do. Would it stay where it was? Highly doubtful. Would it attack? Very likely.

Seconds ticked by before the Warg did just that. Aria roared, figuring that if she made the noise herself it would distract the thing. It produced the opposite, however, and Aria bared her teeth like fangs. It blasted toward them with vigor akin to passion and Tane rushed to meet it.

Drayuik was brought forth like so many times before with her good arm. The song of the blade rang through the yips and hollers from around them, but as soon as she placed her aim upon the target, she felt the world fall away. The weapon crooned for blood while the great wolf she rode upon barreled into the approaching Warg. At the last moment, though, it leapt upward to sail over them. She felt the rush of its bulk part the air before slamming down in a mass of fur and fangs upon her shoulders with a gigantic paw.

Pain sliced through her, spots of blinding white forming in her vision, rendering the arm with the arrow set deep within useless. She bit back the scream itching to tear from her throat while tears formed in her eyes.  Fear split her skull while she attempted to move the injured arm. It was no use, her sword hanging limply at her hip. Shaking her head, she gripped strongly with her legs upon the wolf’s sides for balance. She released the good hand tangled in the wolf’s fur and wrapped her fingers around the hilt, thus transferring the weapon.

Aria had never ridden anything without the use of at least a single hand. Even then, her riding experience could be counted on that hand. It had been a means of balance and security. She’d always felt her legs not up to what they were now required to do. They were not thin. And, on a good day, they were very tanned. That happened very little in the days after she’d moved to the latest foster home. She never wished so strongly to have had worked her legs into tip top shape until she had need of them and felt the burn upon every fiber of muscle under her skin.

The beast landed on the opposite side of them. It whirled around immediately following its touch down, fangs slathered with threads of silver drool.  The gleam in its eye hadn’t left, the blood lust deeply engrained in its retinas and into its brain. Tane had been correct in his assertion of his opinion when they first met. The new beasts were no longer kin to him. The creature tensing before them was mindless, bred for one thing and one thing only.

To kill.

Narrowing her eyes, she readied her weapon. The blade sang like a siren song through deafening din of roars and wails. She felt herself stiffen just as the thing lurched forward again, barreling toward them with an almost break neck speed. She braced for impact, Tane turning to the side in order for her to gain a better shot. The thud of the beast’s paws upon the earth sent clods of dirt sailing into the air, the noise echoing through the trees. With every breath she drew, it closed the distance.

Then, corded muscles bunched underneath soiled fur and it leapt upward. Aria’s sword thrust before her instinctively, but it didn’t gain a chance to slice. Another blade glowing blue plunged deep into the cranium of the creature, the sudden weight of its dead body surging into them. Tane moved quickly to the side, avoiding the last gnashing movements of the creature’s jaws. However, with the sudden jerk and his blade still lodged in the beast’s skull, Bilbo flew from Tane’s back. Aria attempted to grab the Hobbit as he was wrenched from safety, her unbidden hand coming back empty.

The Hobbit tried as he might to dislodge his sword from the skull of the creature, standing upon its cranium in a dire attempt at slipping it free. In any other situation, the girl would find the sight comical. But, she’d lost feeling in her other arm and held a sword in the other. There was not aid she could provide and thus, she didn’t find the situation funny.

Tane saw to it to eradicate the issue, clamping his jaws upon the sword to wrench it free. A loud imbibing sound followed while the Hobbit’s rear met the ground. Positively, he fell with his sword in hand. A look of shock passed his features, but Aria gave him no time to contemplate upon it. Placing the hilt of her sword in her teeth, she used her free hand to grip the tiny creature and place him in front of her once again.

“That was awesome, Bilbo.” She praised him. “But seriously, don’t do that again.”

 “I will not say I know what ‘awesome’ means, but I will most likely never do that again.” He dejectedly answered. She felt his head shake, possibly ridding thoughts of his previous actions from within his mind.

“Tane, can you take us to the trees now?” She asked the wolf. She felt his acknowledgement and felt the sword draw back within itself while she laced her arm around the hobbit and prepared for the ride.

A howl cleaved the air once again. Aria didn’t dare glanced over her shoulder as Tane turned from the throng of enemy fighters surged over the ridge. Instead, she felt his entire being electrify with energy while he lunged forward and to the pines housing the dwarves. They had situated themselves high in spidery boughs, the elder in the very last tree perched precariously at the edge of the cliff.

While she scouted for a place to deposit the Hobbit, she noted that Balin and Thorin had chosen a tree closest to elder’s. She observed their wild eyes as she entered the area just before them. Calls from others alerted her to their whereabouts, her eyes rising to meet the brother’s even wider gazes. Deep within Kili’s eyes, she took heed of a pang of guilt while they raked across Aria’s limp arm. She made note within her own agenda, if she lived, to remind him it was not fault of his that she’d been shot with his arrow.

Tane sidled up to a tree housing Bifur and his cousins. Bofur clambered down from where he’d been perched, hopping from limb to limp until he was able to reach for the Hobbit. Tane rose to his hind two, placing his forepaws upon the trunk of the tree. Aria aided as best she could, depositing the shaking Hobbit into the dwarves awaiting grasp.

“What about you?” Bilbo asked as soon as he’d scrambled upon the limb, round eyes worried. “How will you defend yourself?”

She shook her head. “I’ll keep them off of you guys until we come up with another plan.”

“You’re just going to fight them all by yourself, lass?” Bofur inquired rather nervously.

She shook her head. “I was never alone fighting them earlier. I’ve got Tane.”

She pointed to the wolf, nodding at the dwarf before her mount touched down upon the ground once again. They turned toward the enemy. The wind shifted, a cold and stiff gale that swept up her spine and prickled the hair at her nape.

In truth, Aria couldn’t stifle the fear that rose again like bile in the back of her throat. Dozens of Wargs barreled over the rocks yards away from her position and the sight alone was enough to strike horror in any sane mind. Given that hers was far from it, she’d once considered herself calm and collected in the heat of confrontation.

She was indubitably wrong and it was at the moment she realized this.  She’d never figured she’d reach the point of utter annihilation, wondering if she was capable of fending off the throng of fangs and fur heading barreling at her with speeds that would put any fast Earth creature to shame. She knew, deep down, she wasn’t. But, she needed to try her best.

She’d not been beaten and torn apart to give up now. She knew in her core that she’d made it far enough to make a difference. Her grandmother’s story had mentioned the foretold events occurring around her. An attack on the company, an unwarranted arrival of an evil she couldn’t imagine, and fire was all she could recall from the aged tale. Most of the small details were lost in time. Now, more than anything, she wished she could remember them. Knowing what she knew now, she could utilize the knowledge to survive.

No matter if she recognized what to expect or not, she needed to make her stand. She needed to press down the fear and scrounge the courage she’d held in the goblin caves, utilizing it to the best of her abilities. To defend those who could not fight for themselves at the moment.

It was the right thing to do.

The wave of their enemy seethed and toiled for the like the most dangerous of waves, frothing and boiling just yards away. She wasn’t sure how to enact her silly plan nor did she fully know how to fight off so many. Tane could run as fast and as far away as he could, taking her with him to ensure there to be at least some sort of distraction. But, if they didn’t take to the diversion, what would she do after? Standing her ground was the only option and it seemed to most dangerous of the two.

While Aria contemplated, her mind full of panic and murk, something whizzed over her shoulder. The brief passing heat brushing her cheek like the caress of sunlight. It lit directly in front of the duo, igniting the brush and pine needles at Tane’s paws. He jerked backward, recoiling from the sudden rush of heat. After blinking a few times, Aria realized it had been an object. The bright orange and dark black of something charred rolled amongst the dry sticks and brambles.

Following the assumed source, she glanced over her shoulder to see the elder in the furthest tree clutching a glowing ball of orange. The radiance of it cast warm hues of ocher upon the wrinkles and crow’s feet of his face. Taking the ball of orange, he pursed his great lips and blew upon it. The glow intensified, burning bright within his fingers. Then, like a baseball, he thrust it into the air and threw it. It sailed up and over her head to land upon the ground. It wasn’t until then that realized the object was, in fact, a detonated pinecone.

More volleyed over her head, causing the entire area before her to burst into flames. Tane’s ears lay flat upon his skull, unsure of the sudden tongues of flames lifting into the sky. Smoke curled and frothed into the pinkish hue above, clouds slowly passing above in lazy strides. She blinked against the inferno, feeling the warmth spread through the dried tendrils of gunk filled hair in her face. It seemed the rain hadn’t doused the forest floor heavily, brittle conifer needles at her feet as fragile as glass and as flammable as paper.

Soon, the flames spread all around them. They encircled the cliff and entrapped the unsuspecting creatures within the barriers of their own device. In a way, they were entombing themselves in an unwarranted gesture of defense with blazing tongues of flames and roaring heat. That same heat bit at her eyes and nose, smoke encasing her lungs within its sooty grasp. She began to cough, Tane’s sides heaving due to the inhalation. She felt his mind sweep against hers, urging her that they needed to move away. She agreed and he swung back toward the slender trunks of the pines and to the dwarves.

Tane hugged against the nearest one. From above, she could make out a few of the dwarves gripping pinecones to throw. One, she was certain, happened to be Thorin. She could, unmistakably, spot the wagging white of Balin’s beard as well.

“I figured you dead, Miss Jackson.” The dwarf king shouted from above.

“Don’t make it your day job, Mister Oakenshield.” She cut. “It’s definitely been a trip.”

 “This won’t hold for long. We must be ready.” Balin added. “Lassie, do you have any plan?”

She shook her head. “I figured I would divert them away, but the fire seems to be working better than I thought.”

“That fire won’t last long,” Affirmed Fili from a tree beside them. “I think the wind is picking up.”

Aria couldn’t agree more. A steady gust of chill mountain wind billowed through the trees, causing the dark arms of the branches to sway. Knowing the flames would sputter to their death soon, the throng of Wargs at bay would break through. She couldn’t await their arrival for fear of her lack of strength. Tane shared similar thoughts, fearing for her life over his.

“Lass, what is your plan?” Balin asked again.

 “Kili!” She shouted. “Could you ready your bow please?”

“You do not order my men around.” Thorin roared. “You have no…”

“You have my bow, Miss.” Kili announced. He seemed confident, but she smelled his fear just as she felt her own. It dripped like drool from the maws of incoming Wargs.

She flashed him a smile over her shoulder, one filled with as much courage as she could offer him. She knew, by this point, he’d seen his fair share of horrors. If she were correct, they’d faced other enemies. But, the brothers were young, Kili possibly the youngest. He was like her, in a way. New, inexperienced to death and carnage to this maximum level. She felt the same whirling through her, and knew if the entire ordeal was done that she would fall upon her knees and sob until she couldn’t any longer.

But, that time was not the present. She had other things to do. It was understood within her bones that her smile was but a far cry of what she actually felt, only knowing it to aid somewhat causing her keep it plastered against her face.

It seemed, however, to have worked. Kili’s eyes sparked, a tad bit of energy gleaming within the warmth that had been there. He took the bow slung around his shoulders, his quiver chocked full of arrows. She prayed for his aim to be truer than hers, placing more arrows within their intended targets and not far from them as she’d done.

Returning her gaze to the wall of flames, she noticed as it began to fade. The Wargs beyond grew restless, writhing like demons in the darkness. Their fangs glinted from the embers, slathering maws full of razors willing and ready to rip her to shreds. She couldn’t rid her mind of their blood lustful eyes as they bared her soul raw to the elements.

 She pondered on the intended plan, knowing the others had no clue as to what they were waiting for. She had no idea, either. Inside, the stories her grandmother told her had mentioned something was coming for them. The elder knew more than he let on. He was powerful, wiser than anyone she knew but he also held his secrets within.

   “Gandalf,” Thorin bellowed from the tree. “Our time is running short. Do you have a plan?”

 “That is for us to find out, eventually.” Came a reply from the elder behind them.

But a yip brought her attention back to the enemy ahead and Aria felt herself stiffen as the mass of Wargs began howling behind the flames. The tension of the situation began to boil beneath her skin, causing her to swallow the lump within her throat. Every second they stood there was one moment too close to their potential demise. She gripped Drayuik tighter, her knuckles growing white beneath the gunk coating them.

“Can you fight with an arrow in your shoulder and a useless arm, calass?” Thorin cut from the boughs of the safety of the tree.  

“I don’t know what that word means,” She threw at him. “But, you worry about yourself.”

“I am not worried for you.” He hissed. “I am worried if you will cost us our lives because you are hindered.”

“I’ve made it this far with larger injuries,” She spat, the sting of the duty reminding her of the wound in upon her cheek. “I’m pretty sure I can fight a little more.”

“So much arrogance for such an inexperienced human,” He growled. “Do not cost my people their lives because of your folly.”

“Like I said before,” She hissed through her teeth. “Don’t worry about me. Just make sure you throw enough pinecones to help.”

Just as she finished, the last of the fires died in the wind. The flames wisped to their death, the gale whirling into the pale sky. She sank her fingers into the depth of Tane’s fur, feeling his warmth against them. It was reassurance, a sense of security she needed to quell the rising bile of anxiety and fear. The war was ahead and only seconds before it began.

With the speed of rushing water, The Wargs burst forth into the company. They leapt over the dying embers that had once barred them, smoke rising in billows to mar the dawn. In a flurry of fur and fangs, they seethed toward their enemy. The orcs upon their backs readied their bows and swords, gnashing their teeth and roaring in illegible tones.

In the blink of an eye, Tane launched forward, a war cry tearing from the girl’s throat. Aria brought wrath down with her sword, slashing at Wargs and orcs that came in droves. There were far more than she’d initially figured, the bulk of them surging forth from the shadows as if made by the very darkness that sheathed them.

Blood splattered against her face, mingling with whatever filth was already there. She listened to her gut in whatever led her to the best kill. Tane’s body was lithe, packed with pounds of muscle and ages of experience in the slaughter of enemies. He jerked to the side, avoiding paws and fangs as they flew toward the pair. Her blade swung down, cleaving her enemy in two. Her instincts took over, grabbing a hold upon her brain to push the conscious section toward its rear.

The dwarf company ensured her security during the onslaught. She could hear their cries, words in what she believed to be their native tongue flew through the air like the tendrils of smoke. She witnessed even more pinecones being thrown, starting other blazes through the timberline. Various Wargs were lit ablaze from the fires, roaring in pain to gallop in flames away from the throng. To her dismay, Aria noticed the increase in the orange glow.

The Wargs were catching the forest on fire.

Something shoved Tane to the side with a painful jolt, sending Aria to lose her grip and fly to the earth. With a hard thud, she landed on her stomach. The arrow shaft in her shoulder snapped in two, sending jolts of white-hot agony through her body. She screamed, turning upon her spine quickly, shoving the agony down as best she could justify before scrambling to a position in which she could rise. She’d lost her sword, her stomach plummeting to her feet.

She was unarmed.

A sweep within her mind alerted her to her wolf. She felt the shadows move about the smoke and glanced to them just as she felt Tane regain his composer. His blaring discomfort swathed her insides just as they felt small things they felt large ones as well. He, too, had taken a fall and it seemed so much so that it had injured him far beyond what he’d been before.

Roars and growls filled the gloom sweeping around her feet and shoulders. They came from everywhere and nowhere all at once, bouncing from the surrounding mountain ridges. She felt immense dread welling within her breast, nursing her shoulder carefully while she still attempted to quell the pain. The rough bark of a tree met her palm as she clambered to her feet, the howls and snarls around her driving her anxiety to run rampant through her entire being. Her vision swam, the words the dwarf king spoke about her incompetence ringing like a giant bell in her ears.

She couldn’t quit now. She had to help defend them. But, she felt nothing. One arm remained numb, the same shoulder pierced by an arrow and riddled with a goblin bite. She still felt the sting of the other inflicted by Azog, knowing it tore into the tender flesh of her face and would leave a ragged scar. The rest of her fell victim to the many other lacerations and bruises. The arrow wound, however, threatened to split her apart.

Perhaps she wasn’t prepared. Maybe the injuries she’d inflicted were hindering her performance. She was no fighter; the only actions she’d performed being that of survival. Most of her kills were to keep the enemy from taking her away or killing her. That much she’d already managed to figure about herself. She was a vicious survivalist, knowing just enough to keep her alive. She’d only managed to do that and learn as she went.

Something glinted inside the firelight. Twin orbs of white blinked, inching closer. She shook her head, ridding herself of the pain in an attempt to rip herself away from it. She pressed herself against the bark of the tree, unsure where her sword had gone. Her vision remained unfocused; any attempt to search would fail.

A hiss reached her ears and her heart thundered in her chest. Whatever it was approaching her was not friendly. She wished in that moment for anything to use as a weapon. With her hazy vision, she glanced upward. The tree loomed above, her eyes barely depicting the detail of a burning branch. If she were correct, it wasn’t too far to reach.

Using as much willpower as she held, she stretched her arms overhead. The pain spliced through her head, crushing her mind under its pressure. Her fingers fanned out, feeling for the solid wood to reach them. She did, wrapping her hand around the branch and wrenching downward with all her might. A nasty crack reached her ears, the branch giving way. She brandished it swiftly, thrusting it before her against the enemy.

The Warg roared horridly, its hot breath mixing with the warmth of the fire while it burst forth from the smoke and flames toward her. She didn’t budge, using her new weapon as a shield. The fire had devoured most of it, the licking inferno reaching to the very tip. She pressed herself further against the tree, sweeping the branch back and forth in front of her in defense.

She heard the thundering of its paws while it closed the distance, figuring it to be farther away than she’d anticipated. Using the wood to shield herself, she tried with all her might to regain the feeling in her other arm. The searing pain she’d felt while gaining her new weapon had left it limp at her side, pain searing through as she attempted in vain to gain feeling. The tips of her fingers sensed the heat, but it was as if the muscles chose not to respond.

The Warg roared and Aria braced for impact. If anything, she had a flaming wooden weapon. It was the least she could do to make sure her death met without a fight. Every aching fiber of her being tensed for the oncoming threat, her heart fit to burst forth from her rib cage. She inhaled the smoke and tang of blood.  She wanted to retch, to rid herself of the pain and nausea coiling in her stomach. She wished to claw out what she’d seen from her mind, redo the brand that had been inflicted upon face by the hand of the pale orc.

But, she couldn’t. It was too late. She couldn’t see and couldn’t feel her arm. She could fight, but what good would it do for her? The oncoming threat was massive, far heavier than herself. If she chose to fight, she would do so knowing it was futile. But, she couldn’t give up. She’d gotten too far to quit.

The loping beast parted the dust and flames, cutting the distance between them to mere feet. She remained still, gripping the wooden branch until her knuckles paled. Gritting her teeth, she pressed further into the trunk, the solid mass giving her a sense of calm before the storm. It grew closer still, and she exhaled the breath she held.

Suddenly, a form sprang from nowhere and lit upon the ground between her and the creature. It bellowed loud, sword brandished before it with all the power of a thousand men. Raw, untamed energy surged forth from the being and her eyes blew wide in awe. The Warg snapped its jaws, the figure launching itself forward to cut down the enemy with one blow. The song of their sword rang through the air and Aria’s heart stopped.

The figure strode to her from the shadow and flames. Their large, broad frame closed the distance and Aria’s vison swam with her pain as she tried to focus on her sudden savior. An arm snaked around her waist firmly but gently, guiding her hastily away from the tree. It was warm, inviting. Something she’d missed in the cold and dark.

Instantly, images of things that didn’t belong to her mind flashed through it. Sorrow and despair, desperation far greater than she could even fathom riddled her heart. Grief with a gravity of its own weight tethered its bulk to bury her down, her feet lead as she was drug from beneath the tree. She knew this person and she knew their story. The images fluttered to past, the present, and the future. She saw heartache and she saw death. Screams ripped through her mind and one of her own tore from her throat.

Reality struck her suddenly, her entire body igniting with the sudden realization of her situation. She became hyper aware of the being beside her, their heat leaching into her cold bones. They grunted as they aided her, her legs jelly from the pain. Shouts of retreat rose all around her, blurs of other figures rushing past her and whoever held her.

Who was this person she thought she knew?

“I thought you could handle yourself, Miss Jackson?” A deep voice vibrated through her bones.

Thorin. She’d seen into Thorin’s mind.

She tensed just as they reached the base of an even larger tree. She blinked, attempting to gather her wits about her once again. “What are we doing?”

“We have to climb,” he declared. His arm around her waist loosened, releasing her. “The Wargs are everywhere. We are outmatched.”

She couldn’t see, let alone climb a tree. The beasts flew all around them, snapping jaws inches from their limbs. Aria attempted desperately to gain purchase upon the bark of the tree and do as she was told. However, her fingers found nothing to grip and she failed to lift herself from the earth.

Suddenly, hands gripped her arms and lifted her upward. Grunts and groans met her ears just as fingers dug deep into her skin. White hot pain coursed through her and she cried out just at the moment a set of grimy fingers pressed into her injured shoulder. Harsh words were spoken and two figures entered her vison. The bows of the tree creaked beneath her weight and the weight of whoever had gripped her.

Then, she was violently planted upon something solid that shuddered beneath her. It groaned low like some beast, the vibrations racing through her blood. She breathed in the smoke, the coughing

“So sorry, lass.” Bofur’s voice entered her ears. “I forgot you had an arrow in ya.”

“By Mahal, what happened to you?” Another voice seemed cautions, disbelief dripping from their words.

She didn’t have a chance to answer, tremors riddling the limb beneath her. Another figure emerged from the shadows below, groaning as they lifted themselves onto the limb across the trunk opposite her. She blinked, her vison swimming with blurs of orange and darkness.

“Lass,” Bofur spoke. “You best hug the trunk of this tree. It’s not going to be pretty in a moment.”

“I can’t see very well right now,” She stated reluctantly. “I might need help.”

Warm hands guided her to the trunk, pressing her against it to keep her from falling. They remained upon the arm without the injury, weary of putting any pressure on the injured one for fear of what it would do to the rest of her. She silently thanked them for their courtesy.

“Okay, lass…” The other voice entered. “I am going to take this arrow out. It will hurt a lot, but if left there it will cause more damage. Are ya okay with tha?”

She was not okay with it, but knew it needed to be done. “I’m as prepared as I can be.”

“Damn Kili and his rash behavior.” The voice cursed, leaning toward her. She could only see a dark shape. “Twas the lad’s arrow that hit ya. He thought you were the enemy.”

“I know. He has a good aim,” She mumbled. “Far better than mine.”

“But you have a bow on ya,” Bofur stated. “Ya tell me ya didn’t use it once?”

“Oh, I did.” She chuckled, her ribs aching. “But that doesn’t mean I hit anything.”

“Hold yourself, lassie.” The other voice piped in. “I’m going to pull it out now.”

She nodded, letting her eyes slide closed. Her entire body was a live wire, tense and ready to spring loose despite how exhausted she actually felt. She couldn’t quell the thundering of her heart beat, feeling warm hands upon the wound in her shoulder. She clenched her teeth, feeling the smarting sting just as another hand clasped the shaft. She could feel every vibration and movement through the wood, the shaft itself the conduit and the tip the focal point, the agony erupting through the muscles and tendons.

“I think I’m going to snap what’s left in half,” The deep voice explained. She felt his hands against her skin. “Then, we can get the point out after.”

She nodded. It was all she could do. Everything screamed in pain, but it had been the first time she’d sat down since she’d arrived. Of course, every fiber of her being felt the sudden shift in movement. She’d not felt the fatigue so heavy upon her bones before. Every wound and every bruise she knew formed beneath her skin seethed with anger ten-fold of the likes she’d never sensed before.

His hands moved gently, taking what remained of the shaft and bending. She hissed sharply, the searing agony slicing through to her bones and clawing down her spine. Her free hand grasped the fabric of her jeans as hard as she could, another warm hand clasping it. It pried her fingers from her pants, using their own for her to clench. She did just that, their hand steady and strong under her pressure.

A sickening crack reached her ears and the pain shot through her even more. The hand she held increased their grip, holding her steady. It finally subsided, her stomach knotted with the fading agony. She inhaled, smoke and pine tickling her nostrils. The same large hand that had snapped the arrow rested upon her injured shoulder. Tears trailed down her face as yet another sting of pain riddled the bone and flesh there.

“Alright, lass,” He breathed. “Hold on to Bofur’s hand there as tight as you can. This will not feel pleasant.”

She inclined her head weakly, her body beginning to tremor. The large hand clasped both of hers, another touching the tender flesh where the point of the arrow still remained lodged inside. She pondered for a moment what type of arrow tip the dwarf used. If it were anything like the ones she’d seen hunters use, she was in for a prolonged bout of agony. She couldn’t think of any other type, however. Nothing that would cause less damage.

The sudden sting erupted through her, but she refrained from screaming. Below, she heard the faint howls and hisses of the enemy. The tree vibrated, voices of terror ringing out. She wished the dwarves would leave her alone. She worried more for the others than she did herself. She pondered on Tane’s location, hoping him to be well.

She thought of these things as she felt fingers probe the open wound. It was the only thing keeping her from screaming. Sweat beaded her forehead, tears streaming down her face. She pictured the Oklahoma plain, the Rocky Mountains she’s seen as a child so long ago, and the voice of her grandmother as she told her stories to a bright eyed Aria. The noises fell away as her mind surreal consciousness began to take hold. She was falling again, falling into a pit of darkness.

                Soon, she felt warmth envelope her. A growl echoed through her bones, but she knew this sound. It was something she’d heard many times before but only in dreams. She reached for it, wishing for it to notice her again. Whatever presence loomed there, it was powerful and strong. It knew things she could only dream of . She knew it, had known it for quite some time. Gleaming reds and inky blacks flooded her vison and she called to them.

                Who are you? It asked of her. Why are you in my head?

                I am me. She answered. I wondered the same thing about you. Why are you in my head?

                The voice growled low. I am unsure. But why are you in so much pain?

                I’m injured. She replied. Friendly fire.

                Well, the voice grumbled. It is very bothersome.

                You are one to talk. She scoffed inwardly. I am the one who is injured.

                To ease it, then, it growled. Let me help you.

                How do I know that you will actually help me? She pondered.

                Just sleep.  

             And so she did.  She allowed it and its warmth to wrap around her like a down blanket. The blackness took her in a wave of shadows among the fire and fronds of the trees. 

 .             Sleep. 

Chapter Text

From the Rubble

“Deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

                She slowly stepped along the path she knew so well; the worn stones warm beneath the soles of her tired feet. Every bone ached and every heartbeat felt like a hammer upon her core. She breathed in the scent of Sulphur and smoke. The heat rose and fell around her like a living beast but the steady thrumming remained constant. It was akin to a feline purr, strumming her insides like the strings of a violin.

                As she’d done many times before, she proceeded down the corridor and toward the glow radiating from the arching doorway. It loomed large and ominous, but she’d lost her fear of it long ago when the dreams first began. Even if she figured the end to occur just as it normally did, she would still embrace it over what she’d lost her consciousness in. The pain had been unbearable.

                “I feel you there, stranger.” A deep timbre strummed like a silken song against her eardrums. “I can sense you there. It has been a while.”

                She halted at the edge of the great orange abyss, her toes clutching the very edge of the threshold. “It seems I have been gone from here for quite some time.”

                “Did you fall deeply, stranger?” It asked

                “Yes, thanks to you.” She gave a small smile to the void of bursting citrus and illumination too bright for her darkened eyes. “That was you in my head earlier?”

                “That was me.” It replied as she squinted into the glow.

                “What are you doing there?” She asked.

                “I have always been there since you dreamt of me.” It affirmed.

                She wasn’t sure what to make of this, her brain lost to the silky dreamland she felt surrounding her.

                Something shifted among the dreamscape. A stultified yank followed by voices from long distant beings. She blinked, turning herself toward the dark corridor she’d left behind. Somehow, she knew those voices. She couldn’t discern them, their garbled tones muffled. A pull akin to a fine fishing line tugged upon her comatose consciousness. She felt it become stronger as she starred into the shadows, knowing that she couldn’t remain. 

                “You must go back, then?” The lilt in its voice was small, but she knew it felt the weight of loneliness beneath its hardened exterior. She, too, felt it as well. For what reasons, she was unsure.

                “I must. I am needed.” She replied with guilt laden words.

                “So long, Little Rabbit.” It professed. “We will meet again.”

                “Yes,” She smiled as she turned back toward the glow. “Goodbye.”

                “Lassie!” A voice cut through her dream state. “Wake up! Ya can’t leave us!”

                She swung herself away from the threshold and the vibrant sea of orange to the gloomy shadows and awareness of reality. The farther she faired from the looming portal of illumination, the harder the tug pulled. Soon, it all but dragged her along the polished rock floor and into its clutches.

                A blinding white light engulfed her, the shards of her consciousness beginning to awaken.    

                Pain. White, hot pain. It erupted like fire. She wanted to scream, but found she could not. The agony split her, shredding her skin like a razor to paper. She was cleaving in two, writhing under its blazing agony.

                Then…

                Her eyes flew open just as her world quaked violently beneath her rear. She blinked against the dull ache behind her eyes, vision blurred. She blinked a few times against the sudden darkness, her eyes stinging in the smog. She gulped lung full after lung full, attempting to ground herself. But, to her horror, she realized she no longer sat upon the earth. She was far, far from it.

                A moment of fear slashed her mind in two while her eyes wildly searched for any sort of explanation. Her vison was clouded and all she could sense were figures looming around her. They were hulking and broad, the scent of sweat mingling with the heavy scent of pine wood. Her nose ran, tears streaming down her face. Her cheek burned but she couldn’t understand why.

                Roars and snarls surrounded her. They pounded like drums against her ears. She winced against the sudden barrage of noises, feeling every vibration as if it were her own beating heart. A wave of unease washed through her. It meant dangerous things.  Where there had been silence once, now the surrounding din of war caused her stomach to knot. Drawing her knees as best she could to her chest, she gasped while the agony bolted down her spine.

                “Lass?” A voice pressed in. “Are ya alright?”

 “What happened?” she managed to mutter. Her voice came as no more than a rasp.

                Aria realized she couldn’t lift one of her arms. She attempted to, understanding the jolt of pain that zipped through it meaning it was compromised. Using the other, unburdened hand, she rubbed at her eyes and nose making sure to refrain from touching the cheek that burned. After a few moments of this and various blinks later, her vison began clearing slightly. Orange enveloped them, casting its illumination against the dark shadows of the figures. One, to her surprise, wore something silly upon their head. She blinked even more at the shapes near her with worried eyes.

                She knew these figures.

                “Bofur?” She asked.

                “In tha flesh, lass.” Bofur’s cheerful voice lilted through the smoke and unease she felt pumping in her veins. In a sense, it whittled away at the hyperawareness short circuiting like a live wire across her dermis. “See Oin, she remembers me. I told ya she would.”

                Oin, the dwarf holding the tin horn, snorted. His eyes rolled, beard wagging while he shook his head.

                “Ya left us for a bit there, lass.” He declared. “I took the arrow from your shoulder and ya blacked out. Weren’t gone for more than a breath, though.”

                “I’m so sorry,” She breathed, blinking against the sting of smoke in her eyes. Her cheeks felt stiff with crusted tear trails. The burn there stung as if meeting the scalding metal for a second time. “Shit, I shouldn’t have passed out.”

                Bofur’s hand came to rest upon her uninjured shoulder. “Yer just fine, lass. Dwalin up there can’t even take an arrow being pulled from him. Ya did right for what ya been through.”

                Bofur indicated to a balding dwarf above them. His furred rimmed boots swung as he straddled the thick branch, eyes trained on the fires below.

                 “Kili’s arrows are painful.” Dwalin growled.

                “What’s going on down there?” She asked, not daring to peer over the side for fear of what she would see.

                Deep down, she knew what chaos ensued below. She could feel it as one would feel the breath of a wind. Is suffocated the air and the normal rise and fall of the environment they found themselves in. But, by asking, she could perhaps rid herself of the overwhelming dread threatening to crush her trachea.

                Suddenly, the tree shuddered violently. The dwarves rocked, Aria using her good hand to grip the branch of the tree. It shook violently again, her eyes darting below to see a swarm of Wargs barreling underneath. Their snarls and slathering jaws caused panic to rise, her aching shoulder and the rest of her stiffening. The wound still stung, the thought of their fangs ripping into her sending a new sensation of fear down her spine.  

                 “Master Thorin?” Bofur’s voice split through the cacophony of noises, just as another Warg lunged against the trunk. It quaked, groaning beneath them. “What do we do? There are too many.”

“We stay where we are,” the dwarf king’s voice boomed near her. He was in their tree, just feet from where she clung to.

“I wish Gandalf could do something,” A faint voice sounded in the distance. She wasn’t sure who they were, but knew the nervous anxiety written within their voice. She could sense it as one would sense the chill of the winter wind.

“Where is Miss Aria?” Came another voice, splicing the fog within her brain. Fili?

“She is with Thorin.” Another announced. A deeper, older voice. “She is safe.”

“Where is Bilbo?” She murmured. Her head swam, nausea curdling within her stomach.

“He’s with Balin, lass.” Bofur replied. “He is safe.”

She nodded, the overwhelming urge to vomit heating her blood to a boil. A cold sweat broke upon her brow. Unable to keep it within, she leaned over the edge with quickness of a hare, and emptied whatever contents she held within her stomach. She wasn’t sure what could have been left, her earlier escapade within the dark depths of the Goblin caves having served as her first round of vomit inducing pleasure.

To her horror, that was not all what she witnessed below.

Somehow, she knew exactly what to expect. Yet, the very sight of it was enough to send her stomach reeling once again.

Masses of writhing Wargs toiled like angry waves through the embers below them. Their slathering jaws brimming with razor fangs snapped like steel traps with a horrid clack. Their eyes were lucid, full with lust for meat and blood. The riders upon their backs were avid with malicious glee, all but beaming as their dogs wreaked havoc upon the poor trunks of the pines.

Aria rolled away from the sight below just as another tremor and a sickening crack sent sickening shivers down the girl’s spine. She could almost feel the anguish within the tree, the distant screams of the other dwarves reaching her ears. There was something else, too. Through the haze of smoke and the blazes from the newly kindled fires, she felt the surge of energy she’d known previously. Someone she owed her life to.

Another quake wrecked the thick trunk of the pine and a nasty snap ripped through the chaos. Another feeling, one she didn’t wish to acknowledge, steadily became clear. As the Wargs leapt upon the trunk, deep grooves and shreds of wood spiraling like corkscrews from their razor claws, the constant barrage could send her and her group tumbling to the danger below. They would be slashed to shreds in an instant.

She had to find the single thread tugging upon her core. The familiar being out there among the fray was someone she needed to trace. The surge of energy she’d sensed earlier was but a small and minute feeling, a flickering light among the heavy shadows that wreathed it. But, it was there and if she could locate it, she could acknowledge its whereabouts.

She wasn’t sure why she needed to find them. She just knew, deep within her soul, that they were a part of her. To find them alive would mean everything, just as finding Bilbo alive had been a breath of fresh air to her sodden lungs. In retrospect, they were still saturated with smoke inhalation.  

Reaching into the fuzzy fathoms of her mind, she called to them. They were far but much closer than she’d initially assumed. She brushed against the fog of their cognizance as it filled with panic and the protective power she’d associated with a parent and child. She felt them rush through her, wildly rushing about within the confines of their own consciousness. They were frantic, insane with grief as well as denial. It searched for her through the flames and the blood, the worry a sudden pounding against her temple.

Cub, a cry ripped through her mind. I am here. Where are you?

She knew that voice. She knew its very essence just as she knew her own. The words had built her confidence, had protected her from the demons she’d known she’d encountered before. They were her comrade. They were her friend.

They were Tane. She’d found him.

I’m in the trees. You need to run. Flee away from here. She urged him, her mind desperate to get him to safety.

There are too many, he replied. I am beneath the trees. I do not see you.

I am up in their branches. I am safe. You need to go! She screamed at him. Run as far away as you can! Get out of here.

I will not leave you. He stated sternly. She felt the power within those words, knowing it would take an act of God to sway him any differently. You are under my protection and I swore to keep you safe.

A howl pierced through the veil of smoke and viscera, sending shards of terror to spear into Aria’s soul.  What was that?

The Defiler. Tane growled. He has caught your scent, cub. You are no longer safe.

Azog.

 She could feel his evil waft through the curls of ash and darkness whirling through the branches. She’d forgotten he’d been at her heels, lost in her wake. As if in recollection, her cheek stung. The singed edges of the angry burn seared again at the very thought of him upon his white Warg.

Her mind faltered, her eyes dropping to the forest floor in a flurry of potential discovery. Through the swirling smog, she located a pair of teal eyes worriedly tearing through the thick needles of the pine to find hers. Relief shot through them immediately, the sweep of the emotion causing her own heart to calm its raging storm of dread and anxiety.  

Wargs surrounded the area as thick as fleas to a stray. They thundered around the black Warg, scrutinizing him with blood stained fangs. The orcs atop a few drew their weapons upon him. Fear struck her through, sending panic to sink fangs into the tender flesh of her heart. He was in danger and she needed to help him.

Her eyes flew to the trees behind, seeking anything she could think as a means of a solution. When her gaze fell upon the elder, she narrowed her greens. His warm eyes met hers, wrinkling while he regarded her.

 “Can you make more of your flaming pinecones?” She called upon the air.

The elder nodded. “Yes, child I can. What for?”

“I need another distraction,” Her eyes shifted to the Warg below. “Kili?”

“I’m here.” A voice called from the tree over.

She peered into it, seeing the brothers and Balin clinging to the branches. Bilbo rested beneath them, a sigh of relief escaping her lips.

“I will need you to provide cover fire for me.” She shouted. A pause ensued, a moment of hesitation before he answered.

“How dare you give orders to my kin!” A booming voice roared over her shoulder. She turned, seeing Thorin’s crisp blues sparking with rage. “Who do you think you are, calass?”

“I’m saving that Warg.” She cut, another howl ripping through the throng of shouts and roars below. “He doesn’t deserve to die.”

“I did not slaughter that Warg to keep you safe just so you could fly back into danger,” The dwarf king bellowed, a flash of hurt flickering across his expression. “You will get yourself killed.”

She wasn’t sure why the emotion in his voice caused her pause. Maybe it was the fact that he’d saved her life before she’d fallen victim to a Warg, or perhaps it was the tone in which he’d stated the words. Worry dripped from the syllables and whether it was genuine or not, she was certain she’d would never witness it again from the dwarf king.

“Aye,” Bofur’s grip tightened upon her arm. “Don’t go gettin’ yourself slain. We just now got ya back.”

“It will be one less worry on your mind.” She mumbled just out of their reach. She lifted her chin to the younger dwarf. “Kili, please. I need your arrows. I have no weapons.”

“But…” The young dwarf’s eyes blew wide with fear.

The Wargs below boiled with anxious yips and howls. Tane snapped his jaws at any who dared grow nearer to him, his haunches against the base of the tree. They circled him like vultures to a carcass, closing the distance with every second she wasted. Bile rose in the back of her throat, burning for her to do something to save her friend.

Suddenly, a small figure landed with a thud under the brother’s tree. She peered under the branches, shock washing through her like a flood at the illumination of blue splitting through the shadows. The tiny figure rushed forward, jumping and bellowing at the Wargs.

Bilbo.

“Hey you ugly mongrels,” He called, waving his sword back and forth through the air like a blue glowstick. “Come and get me!”

“That dumbass…” She shook her head with a smirk, a new wave of fear coursing through her. “He is going to get himself killed.”

“Miss Aria!” Called Bilbo. “Please save your Warg. I would very much expect to be rescued in a bit. Please do not get killed.”

The Wargs lifted their muzzles, ears tipped to the newcomer. Fangs glinted as their eyes focused upon the new prey, hackles raised while they turned toward him. Tane gazed at the Hobbit, eyes wide with shock. Aria shook herself free of her own bewilderment, glancing down toward the black Warg just as the tiny Hobbit scurried away. Some of the Wargs, the rider-less sort, followed while the rest remained.

Her eyes swiveled around and amongst the enemy that had chosen to stay behind. There were only a handful, if not less. Something she could easily get rid of if she had a weapon. To her dismay, the dwarf king had rescued her and not her sword. She would have done good to have kept it on her person.

Are you coming down, Cub? Tane prodded. I am not going to be able to fight them alone.

Are you okay with this? She asked.

The wolf nodded, setting his stance wide in order to brace himself for her decent. She pictured her landing and intention in her mind, allowing the Warg to read it for understanding. He accepted it, knowing she wouldn’t budge otherwise. It was his idea after all.

She straddled the branch as best she could, her queasiness causing her head to pound once again. A bubble of vomit threatened to rise again and spew forth upon the face of her enemy as she attempted to steel herself for yet another episode of some sort of death defying stunt.

“Lass…” Bofur reached for her, gripping her forearm tightly within his grimy fingers. “Wha do ya think yer doin’?”

She shook her head. The time to ask questions of her had passed like the whipping wind through the bone thin boughs of the trees. It swirled the embers glowing within the needle carpet below, sending flakes to swirl into the darkening sky.

“You won’t make it…” The dwarf king stated under his breath, crisp blues regarding her with contempt.

She tore her arm from Bofur’s grip, the dwarf watching her with surprise. “I will not leave him to die.”

“You, too, with perish if you go down there.” He spat. “Do you not see what it is surrounded by? Are you capable of fending them off?”

She turned to him. “It’s not up to you. It’s up to me. Stop wasting my time.”  

Thorin recoiled as if she’d slapped him. If she had any time left, she would have. She didn’t care at all what he thought of her in that moment and, while she turned once again to the chaos below, she couldn’t help feel a small smirk quirk at the corners of her mouth. Perhaps, in time, she would find that the king would be weary enough to avoid arguing with her.

If she made it that far.

The Wargs had closed in far tighter than before. The gray black smoke rolled and toiled around them all like a horrid mist, almost sheathing them from view. Through it, however, Aria managed to spot her Warg.  Tane bit and clawed as best as he could, but his previous exertion of energy had drained him. Weakly, he fought but she couldn’t ignore the quake of his limbs or the weariness he wore like a blanket.

She had to get to him and she had to get to him fast.

She sucked in a nervous breath laced with smog and ash, using her unburdened arm to grip the edge of the branch. The bark was brazen against her sweaty palm, her fingers tingling the lack of use. Her heart pounded against her temples, head aching something horrid while she craned her neck down to gather the perfect landing spot.

It was a fool move and she knew that. If the Warg didn’t respond to her thoughts, she would likely fall and break her leg. Then, she knew, she would truly be at the mercy of the enemy. She also knew, for a fact, that they would give her none. If anything, Azog would seek her out and do what he meant to finish at his camp.

That thought caused a shiver to slice its icy claws down her spine.

“Kili?” She called behind her.

A pause.

“Yes?” Came a reply.

“Are you still willing to lend me your arrows?” She asked to the wind, hoping it would carry her request.

Another pause.

“Yes.” He replied, voice full of uncertainty. “What shall I do?”

“Once I land, I will need a volley of them aimed at the enemy.” She directed. “As many as you can. Okay?”

“You do not have to listen to her, Kili.” Thorin bellowed, obviously still angered from their earlier tiff. Aria glanced back to find vengeful blues glaring daggers into her own. She through the unease curdling in her gut, knowing if she tried to continue their fight, she would waste precious time.

“Kee?” Came another voice. Fili’s, if she were honest with herself. “Kee, she needs your help. You are the only one who can do it.”

“Kili,” Aria threw over her shoulder. She searched the trees for his shape but found nothing. “I understand that you are unsure of helping me. I get that you don’t know who I am and Thorin doesn’t seem to like me much. But, if I had a weapon I would not be asking.”

“Come on, Kee.” Fili urged. The desperation within his voice tickled at the girl’s hope just a little. “She needs you, brother.”

“She doesn’t need you.” Thorin roared. “She’s just using you.”

And, again, if she had the time she felt she would have allowed her fist to meet Thorin’s nose just as harshly as his words. 

Her time was out. The ticking tock of the clock had rung harshly through her head, an invisible schedule of events privy to none but herself finally ending. The sand within her metaphorical jar released the final grains to fall upon the pile at the bottom.

The end was neigh. No. It was already there and she couldn’t wait any longer on the dwarves and their business. Or whether or not they wished to aid her.

“Fine.” She spat at the dwarf king. “I will do this my own way.”

She gripped the edge of the branch again, and made to jump when a voice rang out from behind her. She figured he had mulled the idea over, weighing his options. She didn’t blame him for not reacting quickly, diving right into defending her as his brother had done so quickly before. She did recall his hesitation before offering his services and she wasn’t one to judge him for that. But, she’d needed an archer. She’d needed a weapon when she had none. If she lost Tane, she wasn’t sure what she would do.

                “You have my bow, Miss Jackson.” Kili announced. “I will do my best.”

                She felt elation flare like a flame within her heart. It burst through her veins, light an inferno of hope within her being. She could have kissed the dwarf, hugged his neck until he ran blue in the face. Perhaps, if she survived, she would do just that. Now, however, as she glanced down into the depths of the chaos below, she felt her hope run icy cold. 

                Your time has come, Little Mouse. Came the soothing baritone within her brain. The Stranger. You best jump to save your Warg. This will be your only time.

                Right. The time was now.

                Drinking in the fumes of the fire, she closed her eyes. Her plan had formed within her head, thus allowing the Warg below to see it as if it were a presentation upon a classroom wall. She wasn’t sure if he would understand, but she couldn’t risk asking. For the first time in her life, but the thousandth time since she’d arrived, she had to assume and fly by the seat of her jeans.

                In the span of a breath, she leapt from the branch. The world swirled around her in crimson and pink, smoke billowing like misty arms through her grimy hair. She was weightless as she plummeted toward the hard ground. For a moment, she wished she were somewhere warm. She could picture the beautiful spring landscape in Oklahoma and feel the warm sun upon her cheeks. It would have rained torrents then and large, bulbous thunderheads as pink as blushing cheeks would rise tyrannical and beautiful against a bruised sky.

                But, after the rains came the fresh scent of earth and water. The butterflies would flutter lazily then, thankful to be safe from the downpour. She recalled gazing into the azure dome above her, gazing across rising hills of emerald dotted with fat blossoms that bobbed in the cool breeze. She once again felt the sting of home sickness even though she knew she didn’t wish to return to the home she’d been in.

But she wasn’t in Oklahoma. There were no spring breezes to flutter through her hair. They weren’t rising plateaus with plump, sleek hided cattle grazing upon them. There were no gargantuan windmills swooping with their curved wings shadowing the old world bluestem pastures.

 She was much, much farther away.

You are not from here, Little Mouse. Cooed the voice. The Stranger.

She was in Middle Earth. It was in uncharted and dangerous territory.

No, she told it. I am not from here but I will make it.

Yes. It replied sweetly. You must. I would hate to see you go so soon after just meeting you.

She landed upon Tane’s back with a jolt, her breath leaving her violently. Just as she did so, she heard the zip of various arrows as they soared through the air to their intended targets. One by one, the ferocious Wargs snapping their jars ahead of them began to drop with meaty thuds upon the ground. Along with this, more flaming projectiles sailed through the trees and began ignite the piles of needles at their paws. She was thankful for the elder in that moment.

 She leaned close to the wolf, his fur tickling her nostrils.

We need to save the Hobbit, she stated. He’s in danger again.

The little thing fancies getting himself into precarious situations? Tane asked.  

I think so, but I’m not one to judge. She snorted. I’ve been in way too much to be considered safe to be around.

You have me now, The Warg replied. There is no need to worry.

Then don’t get yourself killed, She ordered as she lowered herself against the nape of his neck. His furs reeked of smoke and ash, her nose curling.

With the steady growth of flames came the bellowing heat that caused Aria’s brow to bead with sweat. Tane launched himself over a small wall of fire just before they grew too large to surpass and out beyond the downed Wargs. They struggled against the volley of arrows that, to her surprise, had not ceased. What little remained of their ranks had dwindled to a mere few.

Tane’s sides heaved while he placed distance between the dwarf filled trees and himself. His ears swiveled forward and back, listening. She could feel his search within her mind and almost taste the scent of the something he sought. Most of all, however, she could feel his weariness sweeping forward like an ancient flag torn and ripped to shreds by the wind. She could sense the bones under his fur and hide tremble as he exhorted himself.

Despite this, Tane increased his speed. Finally, through an almost impenetrable wall of smoke, the Warg caught the scent of whatever he’d been seeking. Within Aria’s mind, she felt a jump of glee at the sight of a whip of blue through the translucent mass. For a comedic moment, she was reminded of a glow stick at a party whizzing back and forth through fake fog from a machine.

Bilbo.

The duo burst through the partition of smoke to witness the Hobbit viciously slashing his sword at a pair of mocking Wargs and their riders. Two more were closing in from behind, ears flat upon their skulls and eyes mad with blood lust. Aria felt the hair raise upon the back of her neck in anger, a rage curdling within her gut.

Bilbo’s own eyes were desperate, full of terror and a sense of courage she’d never seen before. In that moment, it humbled her to know something so small could fight so hard. He desperately attempted to ward off his enemies, failing to notice the danger that stood feet from his posterior.

Tightly gripping Tane’ fur in her fingers, she braced for what her wolf intended to do. She wasn’t sure if he would leap into the fray or stand his ground and distract. He hadn’t given her that much information through their bond. But, she knew he wouldn’t attempt to put her or the Hobbit in harm’s way. So, she ducked close to him and readied for whatever may come.

It seemed he had her former idea in mind. Tane launched himself like a show jumping horse and sailed over the Wargs threatening the Hobbit. He touched down with a soft jolt a few feet away and close enough to the Hobbit that Aria could spot the beads of sweat peaking his brow. The black Warg turning to glare at the enemy, his rage a fuel to the inferno swelling inside him. Then, with a massive heave, he bellowed. It was a deep, guttural sound she associated to that of a bear’s roar. She’d never heard wolves do such a thing. Remembering immediately, however, that Tane was no ordinary wolf. Instead, he was something far larger and far more dangerous.

Bilbo turned toward them, eyes blown to the size of giant saucers at their sudden appearance. His legs were as wide apart as his tiny form could manage, sword a lifeline brandished before him. In an instant, Aria reached for him with a sweaty palm. The Hobbit didn’t hesitate to lurch toward them, his small legs pumping as he ran. He was at their side in a few moments, Aria clutching a fistful of his shirt. With a heave, and a painful groan from deep inside her, she lifted Bilbo upon Tane and settled him in front of her atop the Wargs great withers. The wolf beneath her understood the cargo to have been acquired and turned upon his hock to blast away from the enemy.

A raining fire of arrows whizzed past them. She felt her and the others to be fortunate, knowing if another of the sharp points lodged itself within her or the Warg, they would be forced to slow their flight. But, she was thankful for the friendly backup. She would not wish to be an enemy to the young dwarf firing the volleys.  

Along with the shower of arrows came even more ignited pine cones.  As they passed a few Wargs confused by the sudden chaos, she witnessed some of the natural grenades strike them with sickening cracks right between their deep set eyes. Like a match to a slick of gasoline, they ignited and ran to the trees, catching the dried bark of nearby trees aflame. The fire within the timberline had all but died from before. A great gap lay between the large stand of rocks in which sat the pale orc and the dwarf ridden pine trees. They had been lucky, albeit a little too lucky in the fact that the other Wargs had fallen dead before reaching the main mass of trees.

It appeared that they would find fortune in it once again. Charred Wargs dropped like

“Miss Aria,” Bilbo threw over his shoulder as he flounced uncomfortably in front of her. “I am very glad you decided to come and rescue me.”  

“Mister Baggins,” She inclined her head as he situated himself behind her again. “You need to quit finding yourself in these situations.”

“I bought you some time.” He snorted.

“Thank you.” She told him with a small smile.

He gazed at her sheepishly. “You are most welcome.”

A massive, inhuman roar split the air suddenly. It sent vibration of danger and malice through the smoke, rocking her heart and halting her quickened breath in its tracks. The Warg skidded to a stop, sending soil and bits of rock tumbling down the mountainside. They all turned toward the source, fear clawing upon the girl’s heart as soon as she laid her eyes upon the creature who had bellowed.

The haze parted, and through it came the pale orc atop his white Warg. The sunlight gleamed against his blanched skin, scars deep and menacing cleaving his face. He brandished a giant club where the hook had once been. The very thought of the searing metal upon her cheek caused a shiver to raked up her spine.

He bowed low against the nape of his mount, a sneer upon his horrid face. Fangs glared in the sun, sharp and menacing while he spoke the black words she’d heard grate against her ear drums earlier.

Then, in an instant, his ice blue eyes were upon hers and she froze. Her mind fell blank, her own body seeming to lose its functions. The sneer upon his misshapen cheeks deepened while his eyes took on a spark she’d only associated to someone addicted to death. He lifted the club to point its length in her direction. It didn’t take a natural born Middle Earth dweller to know what the gesture meant. He was marking her. Placing a metaphorical bullseye right between her eyes.

His to claim and do what he wished.

His to kill.

Beneath her, the reverberation of Tane’s angry snarls traveled up through her veins and into her mind. It awaked her, shook her from the paralyzing fear freezing her to her seat.

He speaks of what he will do with you, The Warg hissed within her mind. His rage almost blinded her, blood red and crimson streaks twirling like a kaleidoscope in dangerous patterns within her mind. For a moment, felt his urge to protect her was far too great for his own logic. Tane stepped forward, ears flat against his ebony forehead and hackles raised like porcupine quills.

Gently, she placed a hand upon Tane’s skull. His heat seeped into the sweat of her palms. Without taking her eyes from the orc, she calmly spoke to the wolf through their bone.

Do not challenge him, she gently ordered, placing atop his large skull. She would never find herself doing otherwise if it meant he’d not come to harm. If he challenged the orc, he would put both of them in danger as well as the Hobbit. Her eyes fluttered through the cacophony of chaos surrounding her to look for better options. We need to get the Hobbit to higher ground. He needs to be away from the battle.

Tane’s lifted his head. But, what he speaks of you in his Black Speech is monstrous.

The girl nodded. He is a monster, Tane. But you are not and you are in no shape to fight him. We need to get away from the battle.

The Warg regarded the statement for a moment, his eyes trained upon the pale orc as their enemy bellowed even more. Many Wargs and their riders spilled over the edge, quickly closing the distance between them alarming speed. The sudden need to get Bilbo to safety built within her breast like a bubble awaiting a needle. She needed time, but it was not on her side that day.

Look to the trees, Little Mouse. Came the gravel and rumble of the newest voice within her mind. She wasn’t sure how many others she could fit in there. This voice was a velvety, deep baritone she remembered from before. A sensation she should know but didn’t clamped around her heart.

Are you trying to help me? She asked rather blankly at the voice. The Stranger. Why?

Your ignorance is a pest within my own mind, it stated in a voice akin to that of boredom. Look to the trees to place your cargo.

She wasn’t sure if she needed to thank the voice, but she did anyway. It grew silent while her eyes took to The Stranger’s guidance and scouted the dwarf filled trees. They came to rest upon the pine containing the elder, the farthest but the strongest, and she knew she needed to deposit the Hobbit there. She was unsure of the sensations origin. It was instinctual and then it wasn’t.

A snarl ripped her from her thoughts and her heart leapt. The band of orcs gushing over the mountainside would be upon them shortly. She needed to move and it seemed her Warg understood the thought. He was in motion even before she could comprehend the direction in which they had taken.

So, they flew as if hell itself was upon the black Warg’s haunches. She leaned herself closer to the Hobbit, her sleeved arms encircling him like a shield of meat and bone. He rocked, his auburn curls brushing her nose softly as they galloped away from the incoming horde.

But, it seemed, the pack of Wargs were far too quick for her mount. That, or they’d left some alive during their escape. Dark, menacing figures planted themselves solidly in front of the trio. Aria nearly roared in anguish, knowing exactly what they were before even seeing the details of their features.

Tane skidded again into the dirt, his hardened claws cleaving long grooves into the wet soil. Rocks and pebbles tumbled from his wake while he lowered his head to flatten his ears. A snarled loosed itself from within him, causing the reverberation to slice up the girl’s spine. She felt Bilbo tense from inside her arms, no doubt fearful of yet another attacked.

“They are never ending,” He murmured.

 She couldn’t have agreed more.

Their fangs glinted in the sunlight, silver cords of saliva stretching down from blackened gums. These were without a rider, much to her dismay. They seemed to her the wild cards of their enemy. The Wargs without something to control them became unhinged and wild. There maneuvers were feral, unlike those that were controlled by an orc.

Tane…

The wolf’s head whipped from side to side, Teal eyes perhaps as large as saucers while he attempted to seek an escape. She could feel his panic upon her tongue like oil and dirt. It knotted her stomach and coaxed the bile to rise to the back of her throat. Her gaze flew around them as well, mirroring her mount. From each side she found a slathering maw of fangs and hungry eyes. Inch by inch, they enclosed the unlucky trio.

Until they didn’t.

A bellow flew from behind where a pale orc sat atop his equally white steed. His voice sliced her resolve to ribbons, sending spears of fear to splinter her heart. She didn’t dare turn to find his icy gaze, but felt them upon her nape all the same. Black words were issued like a demand, cutting through the smoke. She noted the other Wargs cower, lowering their heads submissively as Azog spoke.

Tane… Aria urged again. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what the orc leader uttered, knowing that if she did she would not fancy the outcome.

You do not wish to hear this, Cub. Tane replied.

The Pale One calls you his, The Stranger offers in disgust. He says you are his to play with.

“No…” Aria breathes in horror. “He wants to finish what he started.”

Something soft brushed against her mind. There were two energies there, one distance and one far away. The closest, Tane, seems to understand the unadulterated fear coursing through her limbs. The other, it seemed, had grown silent. Perhaps it was gone. Perhaps it had never been there to begin with.

Perhaps, it was a figment of her own imagination like she was in amidst some lucid and terrible dream.

Tane lowered himself enough to brush his chest against the moist soil. She doesn’t focus upon what he appeared to calculate, her mind too far gone within herself to pay much attention. Instead, she found darkness and horror wreathing her thoughts. A type of horror that leaves a person breathless and still with a blank mind and no means to move. She pictured the tip of blazing red metal inched closer to her flesh. She felt the pain white hot and horrid race through her body like a fire. She could still feel his breath upon her skin, his bulk atop her as he straddled her and kept her from wriggling free.

They were airborne in the beat of a breath. The chill of the mountain air buffeted against her seared cheek, tears forming at the edges of her eyes. She blinked them away, letting them roll down her cheeks like warm rivers. She refused to wipe them, knowing if she unbound her arms from Bilbo that he would fall.

Tane landed upon the soil just behind the wall of Wargs. For a moment, they were free from the snarling fangs and horrid gleam of blood lust within dark eyes. She could feel herself being drawn back to the light, sense her reality crashing into her as waves upon a shore. She realized she’d been brought back to the orc camp, back to the Azog as he’d marked her in front of his entire band.  

Yet, fate seemed to have other ideas for them once again. With the power of a train, a dark form took them from the side with break-neck speed. The air rushed from her lungs in an instant, pain shattering whatever sensation of positivity she had left. Air wreathed her in its warm essence as she flew through it toward the ground. With a crash, she hit the harsh surface and slid to a stop.

For a moment to the outside world, an eon to her, she felt nothing. She could hardly breathe, her lungs grappling for anything she could use as purchase. Her diaphragm ached, head spinning. Her eyes fluttered closed and even as she opened them, dark spots flickered like butterflies within her vision. Everything ached, her shoulder screaming from where Kili’s arrow had speared her flesh. Nausea clenched here stomach, threatening with expulsion of what little she even had in it.

She couldn’t feel or hear Tane, her fear rising like a nasty fever. She couldn’t feel anything. Her limbs were numb to the bite of the tiny pebbles buried within the flesh of her palms. She attempted to rise, reaching out with her mind to seek her Warg. She felt the other energy there, distant but warm. Reaching for it, it found her.

Get up, Little Mouse. It told her. Get up and fight. You will die if you remain.

I cannot stand…She replied, her arms reaching forward from where she lay upon her stomach.

Despite this, the overwhelming need to engulfed her. An electric zip of energy swelled in her breast, ignoring the pain curdling there. It wasn’t her strength. It belonged to another. For a moment, she wondered if The Stranger had offered her anything. She was unsure, her tired being loathing the idea of thought. Instead, she clutched at whatever she could. After a few struggled gapes at the air, her trachea opened and she relished in the delicious relief as she greedily gulped the smoke filled atmosphere. After a few moments, her vison cleared and she could see once more.

Tane had vanished. Feet from where she lay prone upon the soil lay crevices and gauges from where they’d taken their tumble. Using what energy she could, she pushed herself up upon her palms. She stiffened her elbows and allowed for her arms to hold her weight until she gathered her strength again. Each breath, each minute movement, caused her reserves of energy to dwindle. The small fibers of muscle bundled beneath her skin screamed while she slowly repositioned herself to glance around.

Her eyes scanned the base of the brush and trunks of the trees. Broken branches and needles carpeted the dirt, rocks dotting the dark surface with pale patches. However, she blinked a few times at the sight of an oddly shaped lump sprawled a few feet from her. A tussle of auburn curls instantly brought the girl’s heart to beating wildly. The Hobbit, she realized, lay just a little way away from her.

She could assess her injuries later. In the blink of an eye, Aria rose with the quickness of a tiger. Perhaps it was The Stranger’s dose of energy she had to thank or her own. Either way, she didn’t care. The pain vanished while she jerked herself toward the Hobbit, stumbling like a drunkard to the little creature’s side.

“B…Bilbo!” She stammered, reaching forward to grasp his shoulder.

Her vision swam again, the blackness from before reminding her that she was not in any shape to move as fast as she was. But, she ignored it and gripped the small creature’s shoulders tightly. Using what little vigor she possessed, she lifted him up to sit. His head lolled, eyes closed. She felt his skin, the small divot of his neck where the one of the most important veins would be. It was only after she performed the act that she remembered he was very different than she was.

But, how different was he?

 To her relief, she felt the heavy throb of a pulse.  She released a pent breath, the air sending the stray tendril of her bangs to flutter.

He was alive.

 Her mind whirled as she attempted to figure out her next move. Her eyes lifted toward the trees, searching for anything that would gain her some motivation. Again, fate aided her while her eyes locked upon figures writhing through the translucent smoke. The trees were skeletal forms swaying with violent impacts. There are shadows there, broad and wriggling like bugs under the protective plastic of a light. Aria figured them to be the dwarves, a slimmer figure just beyond them. Gandalf.

Larger and even more violent outlines frothed and boiled, ramming themselves into the bases of the jolting trees. Yips and snarls rose like nasty songs upon the air and Aria knew exactly what they were without even seeing them. They had been the creatures she’d been running from or leading away for a span of ages it seemed.

She needed to find a weapon or her wolf. She was vulnerable upon the earth, her heart screaming with crippling fear. She had no weapon, Drayuik somewhere else that was not her hand. It was possible that someone or something else had carried it away or it had unfortunately met its end over the cliff side. Either way, she needed to move. But, unfortunately, she couldn’t take the Hobbit with her.

She rose, glancing down at him while the gears in her mind began to turn.

Bilbo wasn’t easy to move. Using one hand under each arm, she lifted him up. His limbs swung in the air as she managed to drag him toward a stand of bush behind them. Deep grooves marked the earth from his shoes, mud caking the hem of his trousers. Of course, she would have rather placed him in a tree and away from immediate danger. Wishing, however, served little to aid completely. It was all she had available.

                She placed him gently within those bushes, making certain he was invisible to anything attempting to find him. Rising to her feet from a kneeling position, she scanned the area for any sort of weapon. In her search for Tane, she’d need something to defend herself. If she sought the Warg, she would have to do so while armed. She could even stick to the shadows if she had to.

                Carefully, on feet far too sore to continue, she traipsed across the soil and away from the Hobbit. Her hear lurched at the thought of leaving him behind but the choice had been made. He was not awake, and therefore, he was not of able mind to follow.

                It seemed luck favored her while she trekked. There were no Wargs or orcs near where she’d fallen. Large paw prints littered the soil like artwork, scuffing through the pine needles. She didn’t intend to follow them, knowing exactly where they would end. Instead, she veered away from the tracks in search of barren ground. A possible way around them, so to speak.

                She came across a few bodies of orcs that had been taken by fire or arrow in her previous escape. At one time, she would have cowed at the sight of the gaping maws and the black blood that pooled upon the ground around them. But, seeing as she felt the drying dregs of it upon her arms, it no longer bothered her. Instead, she found her mind reeling at a sudden thought springing forth like an excited hare.

                She surged forward as best she could on wobbling legs, her hands flaring with fingers spread toward one of the bodies. With a groan of pain, she bent down to search it. Even more black blood soiled her hands, but the thought didn’t cross her mind. She could still smell the death upon her from her fall in the goblin tunnels and the sight and feel of the gore fluttered away like mists in Oklahoma wind. Her unwarranted tolerance was accompanied by adrenaline, aiding in keeping her mind focused on the task at hand.

She lifted the creature’s pale arms while she searched, feeling the cold and clammy skin akin to that of a fish freezing her fingertips. It sent a shiver of unease down her spine, but she ignored it. She dared not gaze into the glazed eyes and yawning jaws. If she didn’t fixate herself on anything revolving around the fact that it had once been living, it couldn’t bother her no matter how deep the tolerance ran. 

Suddenly, her fingers closed around something solid and cool and she lifted it from the dead creature’s grasp with gusto.

                It was a bow. 

                She thanked whoever seemed to be watching over her at that moment, nervous breaths escaping from her dried lips as she spoke the words. She wrapped her fingers around the wood of the aged bow, feeling the string taut against her skin. A quiver peeped from underneath the dead orc and she lifted it from atop the gear before dragging it up and over its head. The leather strap remained intact as she slung it over her own shoulder.

After she finished gathering the new weapon, she rose from where she kneeled. Turning as best as her body would allow, she combed the skeletal forms of the trees for her comrades. Through the smoke, she could clearly make out the Wargs violently thrashing against the aged bark. Each tree held onto its purchase upon the ground with an ever crumbling root systems. At the precipice was the elder’s. To her dismay, she noted it seeming to lean much farther than the others. She knew the large drop of the cliff that fell strait down to the rolling hills below.

It would ultimately mean death to anything that happened to plummet from its peak.

                 Distracting them had not been in her agenda. If she were being honest, she hadn’t planned on nearing them at all. She needed to find Tane and confirm he’d survived. She already knew where the Hobbit lay and he was well and good.  But, as she watched the constant barrage against the tree and the sickening pitch the elder’s had taken and she no longer wished to remain in the shadows.  Instead, the duty to save them somehow rushed at the forefront of her mind like a blaring car horn.

Hesitation was a stranger to her, and she never felt its gnarled bite as she drew and arrow from the grimy quiver upon her shoulders. The action caused a burn of pain to shoot through her. She clenched her teeth against its bite, however, knowing that if she did she would falter. To accept the injury was to accept the fact that her body was somewhat broken.

She knocked the arrow she’d gathered from the quiver, aiming for a snarling Warg and loosing it. She didn’t doubt her ability to make her mark or, better yet, didn’t doubt that she would hit something. There were so many of the beasts that the odds of the shaft lodging within the hide of just one seemed in her favor.

The shaft sailed through the air, fletching sputtering through the flight. It arched past the smoke and haze with grace and speed no matter how rough it had been crafted. Then, a feeling of satisfaction waved over the girl as her arrow lodged itself into the side of a Warg with a sickening thock. She didn’t have a chance to revel in the victory as she loosed a few more upon the same creature just to ensure its demise. The beast fell lifeless to the soil.

                She remembered scenes in movies where a dramatic event was met with silenced after it had been done. If she were simply watching the events of her current situation from another point of view, she would have expected a similar outcome. Unfortunately, Aria was not within the cinema nor was she met with complete silence. Their gleaming eyes were daunting as they viewed her, turning their piercing eyes toward a new target. She saw the silver slather of drool dripping from their hungry maws and felt her entire being falter.

                But, Aria wasn’t one to back down right away. She’d seen gore, horrifying scenes, and much more than she’d every bargained for. If signaling to the angry horde of Wargs brought their attentions on her, she asked for it on purpose. By doing so, she brought their focus on something other than the failing tree.

                She barely heard the distinct scream of a dwarf through the pounding of her own heart. Through the grunge, her eyes spotted one of the brothers beginning to slip from his position on the creaking branch. A streak of brunette hair signified it to be Kili and her heart summersaulted in her chest. Raising the bow, she knocked the last arrow from the quiver. The flailing dwarf caught the attention of a wondering Warg, jaws snapping under his feet as he fumbled for purchase upon the branch. With every passing second, his fingers began to slowly slip, drawing him nearer to his dwindling fate.

                Aria didn’t hesitate. Inhaling the scent of smoke and dirt, she focused on the target beyond her weapon. Pointing the grungy tip of the arrow just a bit higher than the head of the creature, she exhaled slowly and loosed it. It whistled through the air and slammed into the skull of the Warg with a horrific thwack. Just as the target fell, Kili proceeded to do the same. Fili’s cry shattered the air just as the throng of beasts began pulsing toward the girl with sickening snarls.

                But, something shocked her to the core just as Kili’s fingers no longer felt purchase upon the tree branch.

                A flash of black fur. She was sure of it. Through the throng of grey and brown, she could spot it anywhere. No matter if it had been a trick of her imagination or reality, all she knew at that moment was that something leapt from beyond to halt the dwarf’s plummet to the earth.

In that moment, Aria felt her heart quicken its pace while her hopes rose like a phoenix from its ashes. If it was who she thought it to be, it meant he was still alive. But, those thoughts were dashed when a howl tore through the fog of her mind. The others. They were coming and she had little time to move. The unexpected vulnerability felt like a weight upon bare shoulders.

                Glancing down, she grimaced. She had nothing but the bow and a quiver to defend herself. Even though she knew that she couldn’t slay them all, she still had wished for some form of progress. It didn’t stop her eyes from falling to the to her feet to see if the orc there yielded something more powerful. But there was nothing. The pressure was a ten-ton slab of concrete upon her chest, sucking what strength she’d built upon so far and drawing her down with every breath. Her mind began to blank at the next step, the gravity pulling at her ankles to jerk her down harshly. All she could do at that moment was stare into the glinting eyes of the enemy while they began to creep toward her.

                The wolves stalking the rabbit.

                She didn’t wish to give up. She knew she couldn’t. Even though she could foresee the events in her head playing not quite as she’d planned, she had little regrets of what she’d done so far. If anything, she’d go with the knowledge that she’d seen things she’d never thought she’d see in her entire life. Perhaps she’d also gained admiration from someone who’d wished ill will of her earlier. She’d definitely aided them and that thought made her smile despite the raging fear within her breast.

                She’d thought she’d left it smashed against the cave walls when she’d fell into the pit of death. She’d bathed in blood, fended off her comrades, and faced evil while still attempting to quell it. But, if she were being honest with herself, she could never quell something that had already remained and ingrained itself within her veins. Fear was a part of her, a part of anyone in her situation, and she could either accept it or let it rot her from the inside.

                She chose to accept it when her eyes met those of ice. That fear curdled her blood and rendering her knees weak. She clutched the rough wood within her fingers, steeling herself to boldly glare into his eyes as she saw him meander through the throng of snarls and yips.  

                As they stepped aside, she noted how the ears of each of the Warg mounts flattened against their skulls at his approach. Her heart throbbed while his gleaming pale orbs regarded her. She did her best to retreat, but figured it was no use. They would pursue her if she bolted, itching to sink their fangs into her flesh.

                Atop the great white Warg was Azog, the defiler. His ice blues sliced through the haze and smoke, busting her core into splinters. She gritted her teeth against the glare, squaring her shoulders to buffet the evil radiating from him. A sneer smeared across the scars of his face, the menacing gleam causing her to shudder.

                He spoke words she didn’t understand, and they slithered through her veins like venom. She  wished he would stop, or that she could understand what he uttered, the sound akin to fingernails upon a chalkboard. The words were sharp, cutting like a rugged blade against her ear drums. Every hiss and sputter twisted deeper into her mind. But she held fast, knowing if she moved that she would instantly be brought down. A tiny portion of herself, the stubborn section, didn’t wish to allow him any sort of victory over her body as he’d done before. She could still feel the white hot agony against her cheek. It throbbed as he grew closer.  

                She heard the cries of the dwarves dulled by the thundering of her heart in her ears. She didn’t dare rip her eyes away from the great beast for fear of what he would do if she did. They remained locked, forest greens to icy blue. The planes of his cheeks gleamed in the sunlight and for a moment, she recalled hearing that orcs did not fancy the light of day.

                Something gleamed bright against the darkness of the beast’s eyes, causing her to forget her odd thought. A flash of light, a certain color, or was it something else? Aria knew how tired she’d become, adrenaline racing through her veins and the impending effects of fatigue looming around the corner to await the moment where it would be too late.

 So, she could have noticed the glow sweeping back and forth within the dark irises of the Warg and figure it to be anything but what it actually was. Or, she could have been seeing things. She wasn’t sure.

                What she did know, was that next moment, a shrill cry split through the smoke as a figure leapt forward. It was tiny, barely even to her ribs, but it was fast. With a bellow, it danced between her and the enemy and she glimpsed the sweeping gleam of blue directly in front of it. It was then she felt the sudden surge of relief and worry all at once. She wanted to scream and cry tears.  

                With energy she wished she possessed; the Hobbit sliced at the cheek of the Warg. The beast roared in pain, rearing back sharply from the small avenger to paw at the gash upon its face. If it were any other circumstance, Aria would have cheered. But there were many more enemies ahead of them and none wishing to back down.

                She needed a better weapon.

                Shouldering the bow, Aria turned desperately with sweeping eyes across the battlefield. She spotted another dead orc under a tree not too far from them, holding her breath in the hopes she would find what she needed there. Praying Bilbo’s energy held out, she dashed toward the corpse. Gleaming black blood reflected in the surrounding remnants of the fires that remained, highlighting the fact that it had been downed by an arrow. She grabbed them, ripping them from its flesh with horrid squelching noises as she searched for something more powerful.

                As she’d done earlier with the previous corpse, she lifted limbs and threw them about. If it were human, she would have shown more respect. In a sense, she should have no matter what kind of creature it had been. But, desperate times called for desperate measures. At that moment, her measures were far more important.

Something solid met her fingers and she threw a piece of armor out of the way to reveal a gleaming piece of metal. She reached forward, her fingers wrapped around something hard and chilly under the heat of her hand. Immediately, her arm drew back with the object clutched tightly. The sunlight hit upon its surface to reveal just what she’d been looking for. And, as she held the sword in front of her to note any damage, a cry rang out from behind.

Aria whipped her head quickly toward the source, witnessing the white Warg pressing down upon the Hobbit with a large paw. Its fangs were exposed inches from his tiny face, silvery globs of saliva slathering upon his pale cheeks. She couldn’t rid her mind of the horror splitting the once warm face of her friend. Upon the creatures back cackled Azog. His eyes were alight with feral glee and she felt the a burning in her belly she’d never felt before.

That burn was rage. It seared deep within her, rolling forward and igniting her veins like fuses to dynamite. Earlier, she would have indulged the pain. Now, it was all but forgotten. Bilbo cried out again, attempting in vain to pry the deadly claws from him. Azog bellowed with laughter from atop the great beast and that was all it took for her to make her move.

                Her heart hammered in her chest, the great thunder of it pounding in her ears. Everything died away, leaving only the view of her tormented companion and that of the enemy within sight. She felt her breath release, warmth across her a portion of her body when others were cold. She let the infuriation seep deep into her bones, let the burn surge forth.

Aria didn’t hate. Back on Earth, she had been incapable of it despite the various things that should have driven her to. It was a strong word and she chose not to use it. There were so many humans that chose to live by its horrid agenda, allowing it to spear them until that was all they knew and all they would know.

At that moment, however, hate flowed through her like the raging waves of the ocean in an angry storm. She allowed its cold fist to grip her heart and squeeze until it was all she knew. It crashed and bathed her insides with its infernal fury, leaving nothing but the boiling mass of it to curdle within her.

                The feeling wound its way through her veins, sparking the energy she’d wished she’d had earlier and igniting the warmth back into her skin. Gripping the hilt of her newfound weapon until her knuckles grew white, she hissed at the white orc and rushed forward. The slap of her shoes against the moist earth rang out just as her heartbeat quickened. Her temples throbbed, her vision swarming with crimson and tears.

                With a giant leap, she crashed into the beast’s neck with a shoulder. Agony burst through her, white blossoms of light overflowing into her vison. The sudden blow seemed to throw the beast off guard, the creature lurching to the side and ultimately off her friend. Bilbo hopped to his feet with the quickness of a rabbit being released from a fox, quickly scurrying away behind her while gasping for breath. His sword, gleaming blue in the haze, lay just beyond him. She glanced into his eyes, nodding toward the sword before she turned her focus back upon the task at hand.

                The Warg shook its head, attempting to right itself. Aria felt the aftermath, the shoulder she’d used the same she’d landed on earlier. There was no doubt it was injured far beyond what she could understand. But the pain would have to wait. She would humor it if she survived.

                Azog snarled at her, fangs clenched, and his sneer gone. She reveled in his anger, knowing hers flowed with the same vigor through her entire being. His mount crumbled, shaking its head violently. Dark crimson smeared the brilliant white fur where Bilbo’s sword had penetrated, glinting in the sunlight form above. Aria smirked, the action seeming to infuriate the rider. He roared, urging the Warg to leap forward toward the enemy. Aria braced herself, sword brandished before her like a shield. In a sense, it was more a means of security than safety.

                The beast lunged with unfathomable speed; maw wide with piercing fangs slathered in silver drool. She was a fraction faster but she knew her wounds were deep. The intensity hindered her perception of the enemy and, so, rendered her far slower than she’d wished to be. Still, she twisted out of reach from its powerful jaws just in time to hear them clack shut with nothing but air between them.

                The sword rose high above her head just as the beast’s neck stretched like a pale beacon before her. Every fiber of muscle within her screamed, but instead of allowing it to defile her, she roared to release it. Every ounce of anger and bit of hate she felt burst forward like a geyser. She thrust the sword downward toward the earth, blade cleaving through meat and bone. It severed spinal cord and artery to split through hide and bury itself in the soft soil. Blood spurted warm and wet upon her face and arms just as she jerked backward on the hilt to avoid allowing it to leave her hands. 

                Immediately, the creature’s body launched into the air to send its rider across the ground rocks to a skidding stop. She barely avoided the violent event, tripping over her feet to land upon her rear in the moist earth. The motionless body fell with a sickening thud, its head rolling across the carpet of needles to bump against a rock. The blood pooled from the clean cut, the creature’s inky black pools beginning to cloud. The once snowy fur was now stained crimson.

                Then, it began to move once again. In with numb understanding of minor post death actions, she observed its body and its limbs began to twitch and thrash. Bilbo rushed to her side, breath heavy and warm upon her chilled skin. They both observed the Warg’s carcass as it released its final twitch. Then, it lay motionless.

                “Miss Aria…” Disbelief hung upon every syllable of her name while he gazed transfixed upon the remains of Azog’s mount.

                “Bilbo,” Aria stated while she turned toward the incoming chaos. “We need to find Tane and help the dwarves. I’m not sure how, but we need to do something. That tree nearest to the cliff is close to…”

                “Toppling them over the edge.” Bilbo finished. “I saw.”

                “Then you know something needs to be done.” She declared.

                “Right,” He glanced down, thoughtful.

                Thunderous roars echoed beyond the gloom and both glanced upward to the source. The throng felt closer now and their time ran dry. The duo shared a knowing look, understanding that it was no time to dawdle.

                “I believe we do not have much time to contemplate our next move, Miss Aria.” Bilbo stated.

                “Yup.” She nodded. “I think it’s time to make it to the trees.”  

                But, in an instant, Wargs burst through the smog and carpet of needles. a spray of dirt and debris flew into the duo’s faces, lodging itself in the sticky blood upon Aria’s face. There were many of them, riders and others without milling around them.

                At the sight of the fallen white Warg, a few of the riders grew confused. Then, that confusion turned to anger as soon as their eyes landed upon the girl and her blood spattered face. Instantaneously, the beasts closed in upon them. She could feel their rancid, hot breath upon her stained cheeks. Each set of eyes bored into her soul.

                Aria lifted her new found weapon, brandishing it before her with feral contempt. The rusted blade was thick, the hilt slick in her sweating palms. She felt Bilbo bump behind her, likely with his forefront facing toward the enemies where she couldn’t see. She didn’t doubt that they surrounded the duo like a fawn trapped by a pack of slathering wolves. In a sense, it was just that.

                But she was not helpless and neither was the Hobbit.

                More came through the veil of ash. She lifted her eyes up and beyond their approaching forms.  Through the haze, she spotted the dwarves, Kili now securely planted upon his branch once again and felt a little pinprick of relief. He was safe with thanks to whatever had aided him. But, she couldn’t feel a trace of whom she wished it to be and her heart sank with dread.

                Was Tane dead? Had he been hauled away by the enemy and slain?

                No, Little Mouse, The Stranger offered. You would have noticed his loss. You would have felt it in your bones as I feel your fear.

            She rolled the thought within her head just as another Warg stepped forward from the shadows. They were thinning at the base of the trees now, leaving little for the dwarves to fight against. Perhaps…

The voice was right. If anything, she would have noticed a shift in the energy she felt surging through her. She’d felt Tane various times before and his death would only splinter her like a dagger through glass. She’d not sensed anything of the like. Nothing but her own unadulterated dread.

                Bilbo let loose a cry of surprise behind her and she shook her head. Negative thoughts were not going to limit her ability to defend themselves. Her grip on the sword tightened while she eyed the enemy. It seemed more had added themselves to the throng, the beasts writhing and boiling before them with gleaming fangs and slathering maws.

                Nothing seemed to be attacking the dwarves.

                The cogs within her mind began to crank. Was it possible to attempt an attack from the rear? She pondered on the dwarfs’ capabilities to handle such a thing. But, to call out would mean alerting the enemy of their folly. They were sure to surge forward and pelt the dwarves once again. If they were unfortunate enough, it would perhaps topple the elder’s tree and send him and the other two within to their doom.

                Her and Bilbo had to fight their way to them. She could see no other choice. She leveled her sword to the tip of a Wargs nose.

                “Alright Bilbo,” She spoke over her shoulder. “We have one option here.”

                “What option would that be, Miss Aria?” He replied.

                “We have to fight our way through to the trees. Can you do that? At least try the beast you can?”

                There was a pause before he answered. She didn’t blame him. They starred death in the face, had dealt death to that in which she thought was death. A pause was allowed.

                “I will try my best, Miss Aria.”

                And so, they fought. Through gnashing teeth and bone, they busted their way through the barricade of fur and fang. Cleaved skulls and warm blood fell in pools upon the moist soil while they attempted to survive. In the corner of her eyes, she spotted Bilbo’s sword swing in an arc of molten blue. The haze haloed it against the deep grey of the smoke.

                But, with every swing and every parry of an orc’s blade, she slowly felt fatigue begin to slither its way through her veins like ice water. It placed lead within her appendages, her slashing arcs becoming sluggish. Her arms felt heavier, her mind a whirl of dizziness. Black spots bloomed in front of her eyes while she attempted to wipe the blood from her dripping face. She could feel everything weighing upon her.

                Until she felt nothing at all.

                Her legs weakened and she crumpled. The earth was cold against her knees when they slammed against the moist earth. The warm breeze from the fires swirled around her, the scent of death and smoke causing her lungs to clench. She coughed, pain splintering through her ribs that caged her thundering heart. Something dark touched her lips, a warm liquid she’d not noticed before. Using her hands, she touched her mouth only for her fingers to come back crimson.

                If she were in any other situation, she would have been scared. For a brief moment, she felt it flare within her. However, the pounding agony raging through her body coupled with the wounds she’d inflicted only meant a means to an end. She’d faced death and had fought it back many times that day, knowing each step led her to it again. But, she’d not backed down or given up. She’d given herself a mission to save the dwarves, one she’d established without even knowing them.

                Perhaps, the time had come finally. Perhaps she had reached her limit. She could feel her bones creak and groan on the verge of splitting in two. Wargs surrounded her. The ones they had not taken. In her minds eyes she could see their maws open and prepared to allocate the final blow. Starring at them with her blood upon her hands and the blood of the enemy smeared upon her face, she sighed. For a breath, she hung her head.

                Little Mouse, The Stranger’s voice was a lullaby within her mind. The warm caresses slipping along her skin like droplets of water. This is not your end. You must remain. I have yet to meet you.

As interesting as that sounds, she chuckled within her muddled mind. I’m very tired, Stranger.

                You are, it purred back at her. But, if even the smallest of mice grew tired from fleeing for their life, there would not be any left and the falcon would be fat.

She could almost cackle out loud. The sound burbled at the base of her throat and its mirth grew intensely enough to threaten bursting forth. The pain, however, trumped the sensation immediately and Aria felt the wave of fatigue sweep through her with gusto. She was so tired. She could feel every fiber of her being scream with discomfort, a haze beginning to drape itself through her mind.

Warm hands were upon her skin, gripping with authority and reassurance. In the distance, she heard another voice. It was not inside her mind, this time, but just beyond her reach. Its dulled vibrations were almost illegible like handwriting to a toddler. She turned to listen slowly, her neck screaming with the weight of her movements. Through the growing dim of her vison, she spotted shape beside her. It was much smaller than she but fast and strong. The grip upon her shoulder strengthened.  

                This couldn’t be her end. Death couldn’t touch her. Not at that moment. Through the wracking agony and burning igniting her body, she barred her teeth to the enemy. She lifted the sword that had fallen to her side with quaking arms, driving the tip into the ground just enough to aid her to stand. Her body argued the movement, bones seeming to splinter beneath her skin. She felt the tremors of her weakness slice through her spine, the sudden lack of energy causing her to sway upon her feet. But, she stood and she stood tall. If she were to die, she would bring a few more with her.

                Suddenly, a roar sounded. It was not inhuman albeit vastly different then her own. It rang through her body, igniting something she assumed akin to hope deep within her soul. But, who could it have been? The deep baritone was not anything she could associate with. Her vision faded in and out of clarity, her mind unable to process that in which she could hear.

                 The other lifeform’s heat touched her as if to remind her that they were still there. Through the shadows of her sight, she witnessed various forms surge from the gloom beyond. She could tell that some came close to her size while others rose above. Drowned howls and roars soared in her ears while she watched through her steadily dimming vison while the dark figures violently lashed out around her. She felt a dip of familiarity among these forms, knowing not of who they were but everything about how their warmth bathed her.  

                “Miss Jackson!” A call thundered through her heart. She knew that voice. “Miss Jackson!”

                Something solid touched the line of her jaw, a visage of a face too blurry to distinguish hovering inches from her nose. She could feel the flutter of breath upon her cheeks and taste the scent of pine and smoke. Whatever held her felt akin to fingers, the pads slipping along her blood soaked skin to smear the dark liquid.

                “…don’t you dare fall asleep on me, Miss Jackson.” The deep voice demanded. She blinked but saw nothing clarify. “Do not give in.”

She wanted to inform the insistent being that she was, perhaps, very close. Again every muscle fiber and bone cried out in pain, threatening to splinter or snap if she stepped even the slightest bit out of line. Her mind was a fog of memories and blood draped with the ebbing darkness she knew to be the abyss of dreams. If she would ever wake from those dreams, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was the nearness and the pain and she so desperately wanted it all to stop.

A desperation so deep and strong surged through her as if she’d opened the flood gates of her soul. She wished for safety, not knowing what small amount of it she’d had in Oklahoma until it was gone. She longed for warmth and solidity and the prospect of living another day. She yearned for the sweet smell of honeysuckle and watermelon, the tart crisp aroma of lemons and the clink of ice within a glass of sweet tea. She’d not known these things in ages.

Most of all, she wished for the ability to save those that needed saving. She wanted so dearly to push through her haze and agony and fell the creatures that threatened them. She desired with every fiber of what little she had left to slay them all as she’d done with the white Warg. Violence was not in her nature, but her nature prior to her stumble into Middle Earth was slowly receding into that of another. Something far fiercer than the fires she’d seen licking at the bases of the trees.

A touch of warmth brushed within her insides. It bathed her in its heat, filling every fiber of her being to wrap around her creaking bones. For a moment, the shock of it caused her heart to stutter within her breast. She was immediately reminded of a steaming hot bath, dunking her head below the surface after a horrid day out in the blistering Oklahoma winter. It tingled at the tips of her fingers and toes, igniting her circulation and pumping faster through her veins.

With this rush of heat came an even greater flash of energy. It was another fire bursting to life within her muscles bringing her sensations she couldn’t recognize at an alarming speed. Her brain awakened, clearing the fog like as a beautiful morning sun would evaporate the haze during the summer back home. She was becoming herself quickly, her strength the last to be replaced like the long lost piece of a puzzle she’d missed earlier.

Remember that you have a purpose here, The Stranger purred. It is not to die at the fangs of Wargs or the blackness of death.

She wasn’t sure how to respond, the new sensation making its last sweeps through her internal systems. Meticulously, she sensed repairs were made as a seamstress would restore frayed jeans. The fibers of her torn muscles prudently began knitting together with invisible needle and string. All she could feel in that moment was the unmistakable warmth and energy one would get after a full night’s rest.

H-how did you do that? She managed, feeling her limbs move. Why did you do that?

It was not I who did such a thing. Perhaps you are more intriguing than I figured you to be. It told her. It seems you are not a figment of my imagination after all.

I could have told you I was real. She snorted, slowly rolling her shoulders to feel the spark of energy return within the joints. They glided against each other, properly cushioned with nothing but buttery smoothness. Are you?

If I was not, how could I have given you the incentive to heal yourself? It mocked and she felt a small flare of rage. It almost chuckled.

Wait, what? she straightened her spine and relished in the lack of groans she’d expected prior.

But, she no longer felt the warmth within her. It, and The Stranger, were gone and she was left with even more questions than she’d anticipated.  The feeling receded just as quickly as it came, leaving her standing among the battle field as if awakening for the first time. Had she done this herself? Was she capable of her own self-restoration?

To her, it was impossible and she could think little on it as she shook her head, vision clearing miraculously to reveal the horrid smoke and charred remains of the needle carpet. But, it was perhaps the other sights that caught her off guard.

She would have to worry about The Stranger and their secrets later.

Ahead of her she could see figures all around. Smoke wreathed their limbs while the violently parried and slashed with their sharpened blades. Each wide forehead gleamed with sweat, droplets slinging from the tips of their hair and beards. Arrows flew through the haze with gusto, lodging loudly within the flesh of the enemy.

The dwarves fought the orcs desperately but with fury. The rage within the eyes of those in which she barely knew could be shared and understood. She’d seen and felt that type of anger before, a glimmer of a memory flashing with white fur and ice blue eyes. She’d fought that hard as well, desperately trying to save a person she cared for.  

Had they come to her aid?

Blinking and ridding her head of the remaining haze, she glanced around quickly to spot Bilbo at her side. He held his blade before him, circling her as a mother would circle her young. If she were in any other situation, she would have found it comical. Given the fact that Wargs and dwarves battled feet from her, she didn’t have the chance to linger too long.

                “Bilbo?” She asked. “What’s happening?”

                Bilbo whipped quickly around with eyes as large as tea saucers. Gleaming tears hung at the corners and her heart twisted suddenly. His face contorted with various emotions, the very last being that of relief. His shoulders sagged, the gleaming blue blade dropping to his side. He rushed forward in a blur to embrace her snugly.

                “Oh by the blessings of Yavanna,” He cried. “You are alright!”

                She nodded slowly, cocking her head to the side. “Yes. Don’t ask me how. I am still trying to figure that out myself.”  

                “We need to get you away from here.” Bilbo told her, a warm hand upon her hip. “I still do not think you are fit to fight.”

                “No,” She retorted. “We have to stay and help the dwarves. They came to help us, didn’t they?

                “Yes.” He nodded, attempting to aid her as she swayed. “Jumped right out of those trees screaming and roaring like the blazes like buffoons.”

                She felt a snort at the back of her throat, tickling to release. But, she couldn’t. Even if The Stranger had been correct and she’d manager to somehow heal herself (which she didn’t believe as far as she could throw one of the dwarves) she still didn’t feel fully restored. Sure, her muscles no longer ached and her bones no longer creaked but there seemed to be only half of her battery left. She could figure herself an optimist, but knowing fully that the situation couldn’t allow such a thing caused her pause on releasing her small token of Bilbo’s comedy out into the open.

                She was more than thankful for the aid the dwarves provided. They slashed and felled the great beasts with fury hot upon their blades. Still, she couldn’t help the feeling of dread at knowing they were attempting to help by putting themselves in danger. Of course, she’d done the same man times and hadn’t thought of the consequences. But, a tiny voice in the rear of her mind reminded her that she was not one of them. She had not seen or heard the horrors they possibly had. Therefore, there was little left for her to lose but herself.

                For a moment, that thought left a rancid taste upon her pallet. It was almost acidic, like pineapple juice left too long out in the sun. The sweetness had left and the bitterness seeped in to bite at her tongue. She knew all too well the bubbling sensation in the pit of her stomach.

                She was not one of them. She didn’t belong. Yet, she’d gone through so much to make it to them and help. She only needed to remind herself by touching her cheek and remembering the ghosting ache within her soul. Perhaps at least one of them had been happy to see her alive, maybe two. That thought alone gave the nasty voice of negativity a kick in the teeth for a moment.

                Aria lifted her shoulders, squaring them against the impending doom she believed to be in her future. Keeping her mind from delving into darkness, she busied her eyes with roving through the smoke and haze to locate and identify what she could. It seemed the brothers, Fili and Kili, fought alongside their uncle while the bald dwarf swung his giant axe against the skull of a few Wargs and orcs. Dwalin, she remembered.  

                The others, it seemed, were all around. She could hear their shouts and roars of anger burst through the smoldering needled coated floor. The clash of metal upon metal also vibrated against the bark of the pines, shaking them to the core with a splintering rattle she could only associate with getting pulverized by a heavy metal object.

                “We have got to get to the others.” She coughed, sending crimson to the earth. “We will run ourselves into the ground if we don’t at least make a stand.”  

                Bilbo shook his head. “You are not fit to move at all.”

                “I am much better than I was.” She stated, eyes dropping to the hand that held her sword. She wished for Drayuik in that moment and pondered where it had gone to. Even though her mind felt less muddled than before, she still ached. She bore the sticky blood of the Warg upon her face, clinging to the planes of her cheeks and forehead. It hardened in her hair as wisps of her bangs fell into her eyes. “You have to trust me on this.”

                She gripped the hilt of the sword in her fingers, feeling her nails digging into the ancient wooden handle. Splinters lodged themselves under them, but she didn’t notice. Beyond her, through the haze, a shadow blurred by smoke, lumbered forward. It was a Warg and rider slinking forward with blood lust dripping from its eyes. The fangs of the Warg glinted, untouched by the blood of the dwarves. She was thankful.

                “Aria…” Bilbo began, but he was cut short.

                The Warg’s eyes and that of its rider landed upon the girl and the Hobbit. She felt a chill claw down her spine, subdued by the mere fact that she was tired of the beasts trying to end their lives. If she’d felt herself, she’d have either cowered under the intense gaze of both mount and rider. But, she didn’t care. She couldn’t. All that mattered was survival for her and her comrades.

                “Bilbo, ready your weapon.” She breathed, lifting the sword to brandish before her. “We are about to have company.”

                As soon as she spoke, the rider and its beast lurched forward into a lope. A span of mere feet remained between her and their enemy, the creature gaining speed quickly. She bent her knees to prepare for the oncoming threat, feeling Bilbo beside her. Through her peripherals, she spotted his glowing sword wielded before him and she thanked him silently for his aid. She prayed to anything, God initially, to keep them alive. Whoever decided to listen, she chose to speak to.

                And it seemed something had heard her.

                A howl far deeper and very different from the horrid sounds of her enemy ripped through the haze. It gently cradled her spine, her mind, and her heart just enough to render the curdling unease and fear she’d attempted to curb.  It erupted behind her, her body all but screaming to peer over her shoulder to spot the source. But the thought of it alone caused red flags. She couldn’t turn her back upon the enemy. She’d watched and read too much about the hero presenting a blind side to their foe just as said foe chose to strike.

                This situation was no different.

                She didn’t need to wait long to know the foundation of the cry. A rush of air brought lanky tendrils of her hair to drape across her forehead while a dark form launched itself over the pair and landed with its back to them. Points of ebony fur stood erect in anger, a ridge along the spine indicating the creature to be establishing dominance or something similar. The girl blinked through the haziness to suddenly find she knew the black fur glinting in the daylight. A familiar brush of warmth engulfed her mind, clearing some of the confusion away like a duster to lint.

                 I thought you lost, Little Cub, a voice crooned within her mind. She relished its familiarity and comfort she knew to be awaiting her acknowledgment.

                Tane turned toward her, teal eyes roving across her features to assess any damage. His worry and affection flooded through her mind in waves of warmth and tenderness. She felt her heart melt against it, relishing in the fact that he was alive and well albeit fatigued. She sensed a sting in his hip, an aching creak along his spine that hitched when he’d leapt over the pair. She could also feel the deepening exhaustion as she felt her own.

                I did as well, she replied with a smile. The wolf turned back to their enemy, ears flat upon his massive skull.

                I heard your call, He noted. And head something else. Was there another presence within you?

                In her mind, she shrugged. I have no idea.

                You have been healed recently, He affirmed.  I can taste the remnants of its power within you.

                Apparently there is something in me that can do that. She snorted, slowly edging forward to stand beside the great beast’s shoulder.  But, we will discuss this later. We need to help the dwarves. They are fighting off the rest of the Wargs.  

                Yes, I know this. He acknowledged.

                We must help them, she pressed again. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t. I know I’m asking a lot right now.

                No, he narrowed his eyes at their enemy. You will not fight any longer. I will not have you in danger.  

                Okay, Dad. However much it pained her to do so, she made a move to roll her eyes. I will, with or without you. I’ve made it this far. I can go some more.

                The Warg pondered upon her stubborn declaration, turning his teal eyes to dig deep into her soul. She didn’t retreat, knowing his options to be weighted. At that point, and under the pressure they’d been given, Aria couldn’t care if the wolf didn’t approve of her idea or not. She could barely stand, but she was upright and it was enough to keep her motivation high. She felt his familiar brush against her mind, the sensation of his warmth and the worry dripping from it like honey.

                He was, in fact, acting like a parent.

                I am not your parent, He snorted, But I might as well act like one now. You are my charge and I cannot let you go into battle without the proper aid.

                Despite everything, she brushed her fingers against the wolf’s fur. Thank you, Tane.

                She turned to Bilbo, his eyes regarding her with questions. He inclined his head toward her and she smiled.

                “Okay, Bilbo. Are you ready?"

                “As I will ever be, Miss Aria.” He stated.

                "Alright," She breathed, glancing one last time to their incoming enemy. "Here's the plan..."

Chapter Text

“Deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

 At one time, Aria didn’t believe she’d ever fight for anything besides herself. She’d been through hell with losing her grandmother and with the system, and knew little of what it meant of living a normal life. Sure, on occasion, there had been the rare moment when her life had been quiet enough to trick her into thinking it would be ordinary. Those times she barely remembered, however. They had been drowned by the horrid experiences to follow. Eventually, she was removed from those homes by causing issues in school or sheer stubbornness to allow change. She hadn’t been too bad, but enough to cause her foster family problems. 

 Because of her various shifts from one home to another, she eventually only relied upon the one person that would never betray her. Herself. In the end, it was the only person she could fully trust. With her only other family member gone, she could no longer trust anyone else to understand her situation. Her heartbreak. Her sorrow. There were rare moments when she might have connected with another of her same age, but even then, she felt as if she didn’t belong there.

 More and more of her heart hid itself within a cage of darkness. As the years passed and she eventually had been deposited into the home she’d escaped from at the beginning of her tale, she no longer felt as if she was herself. Her soul had been thrust deep within and left to mingle with her depression and sorrow. She was still injured from the loss of her grandmother after so many years. The pain flowed like rivulets of rain down her core and through her veins. 

 But she’d endured. What was a little cold in the darkness that she’d already been through? Leaving herself immune to the emotions that flitted around her and threatened to take her down allowed her own mind and body to heal. Even as she withstood the beatings of her foster father, she couldn’t feel it. What he did was nothing compared to what she still harbored. 

She still grew numb. Numb to happiness, numb to sadness, and numb to pain. Until something had begged her to leave. It knew she’d not abandoned her compassion or strength deep within. She’d not grown numb to the optimism toward a new beginning. It was what kept her alive each day and allowed her to move through the mundane hours. 

That something blossomed into what she could identify as a dream. It occurred just two days before she’d escaped, promising sanctuary and joy, starlight and beauty and a love she could never experience where she currently slept. She could hear its song through her temples as it pounded in her ear while she slept. A female voice urged her to go, igniting the fire to move even more. She had no clue then who it had been nor had she cared. She was being called elsewhere and the immense feeling of destiny far beyond her bleak walls had devoured every logical thought within her head. 

So, she’d planned and planned. She’d set aside what she thought she’d need on the journey and prepared a route to the finest detail. She hadn’t known what she would have done beyond finding each squeaky floorboard but it hadn’t stopped her. It had all narrowed down to when and what time she would leave and factoring in the un-factored. The closer she came to freedom, the more her heart clenched in dread of the unknown. 

 Did she fear it? She didn’t know that word. She didn’t entertain the thought. All the promise of the unknown did was provide her with a hope she’d not felt in so long. A hope to remove herself from the negativity and sovereignty from the pain she endured. To look after her own. To fight for herself. No one else. 

 To survive. 

 Now, among the feral roars and stench of smoke, she felt something grip deep within her soul. It sang like nothing she’d ever heard before and an unbridled sensation of rage and the urge to protect flared through her on rapid wings. She was a mother bear fighting to keep her cubs safe, the sensation all but blinding her with raw motivation. 

 In that moment, however, she was presented with various solutions. The apprehension of her mount and the Hobbit behind her did little to quell the almost pulverizing sensation of anxiety and the rushing of her heart beneath her sternum. Her brain short circuited into a blank numbness and she didn’t dare remain that way. 

So, at no fault of anything but herself, she couldn’t move. She had no control over her actions. When she’d been a ruthless warrior before, she was now dwindled down to that of a fearful rabbit. The rage she felt was unlike any other, but her nerves had fired long ago and it seemed that the time now was one of frozen anxiety. 

 “What is our next action, Miss Aria?” Bilbo asked tensely. 

 She wasn’t sure what she needed to do. The tree housing the elder and two of her dwarf companions jolted uncomfortably and the duo seemed to grow nearer to their demise. Smoke shrouded the area between her and the group. Their fate grew dim with each moment she wasted. 

 It seemed her path had been set already, it was just up to her to find it. 

 Tane, we need to get to the elder and the dwarves in the tree. She told her mount. That’s our next action. 

 She told the same to Bilbo who nodded vigorously, thankful for a path to take in the heat of battle. She wasn’t sure of said path. In the time it took her to reach the tree, she would be leaving the remaining comrades behind to fend for themselves. Yet, something spoke to her in that moment. There were others reaching their deaths sooner than who she’d left in her wake. She knew deeply it was the only way. Something was to happen by the tree and she had to be there. 

 How do you know there are lives at stake, Cub? Tane asked. She could feel his concern through their connection. 

  I just do. She replied honestly. 

 Tane flew like a gazelle with the fangs of lions upon his heels. He bounded over flames making meals of the fallen trees and through tunnels of smoke so thick, Aria could barely spy their destination beyond. The closer they drew, however, the more exact it all seemed to feel. She needed to be there in that precise spot and she could not move until the time was right. 

 “Miss Aria!” A deep, solid voice of authority called as soon as the smoke parted to reveal the tree. The elder dangled there, the staff he’d used earlier held precariously within his grip over the edge of the tree. It had seemed to topple right as she arrived and she heard the calls of someone beyond her sight. Her heart panging painfully at the thought of who they were. 

 “What do you need me to do?” She called across the way, her voice certain. 

 “Call the others!” He ordered, whoever clung to his staff suddenly jerking him forward slightly before he righted himself again. “I have requested for aid but they have not arrived. I feel their entrance will be too late.” 

 Requested aid? What could that possibly mean? 

Another feeling washed over her as well. An anxiety settled itself within her chest at the possibility of summoning the others. They would never listen to her. As hard as she could try, she felt in her core that Thorin’s hatred toward her untimely and very inconvenient arrival only served as the final straw in various other issues the company had already suffered. He loathed her just as he loathed their situation and she knew without thinking too much upon it that he would not heed her call. 

 As for the brothers, she wondered if they would come. They’d shown great interest in her and had arrived at her side to aid her in certain things. She was unsure of their loyalties given that Thorin was their uncle. If she remembered correctly from her grandmother’s tale, dwarves were not ones to betray their kin. Their blood lines were ties so thick and strong, it made steel seem weak like paper. 

 But, it didn’t mean that she couldn’t try. At that moment, she was the only one that seemed to be holding herself back. She remembered the pit of death she’d fallen into and how it reeked. She recalled the blood and the bruises and the injuries she’d sustained and survived. There was nothing that held her back but her own fear which should have been dashed upon the walls of the cave long ago. 

 If it is fear that is holding you back, it will not stop until it has you. The Stranger spoke soothingly into her ear. Fear is only a figment in your mind. Conquer it and it will no longer be your bane. 

 “If you call them, they will come.” The elder commented from behind her gently. She could feel the encouragement within his voice. “They trust you more than you know.” 

 She glanced up into his eyes, lifting her chin toward him. She knew nothing about the man, but something told her she needed to trust him. He was far older than he appeared to be and much, much wiser. He was comfort and knowledge and guidance all together in one package. 

 She sat straighter upon Tane’s back, adjusting herself as if preparing for battle. In a way, she was concurring a foe from within. A chill breeze brushed the flames that still danced upon the charred remains of the trees, twirling into the sky and fading. She drank in the smoke and scent of burnt wood and allowed it all to curl into her soul. Her voice dove upward and she unleashed it into the open air. 

 She lifted her gaze into the sky, seeing as how the rolling smoke dissipated like sugar in a bath of hot water before she dropped it toward the hazy wall and awaited what she hoped would come. Tane adjusted himself, ears pricked forward. Bilbo leaned to her left, eyes trained forward as well in search for any movement. 

 It didn’t take long to hear the calls and shouts from beyond. Various comments vaulted through the smoky barrier and Aria felt her heart shudder with anticipation. She could discern who she believed to have been Bofur, his haughty laugh and cheery voice a welcome relief to the negative space threating to occupy her mind. 

 Shadows moved beyond the veil and she stepped forward nervously. Were they coming? Had her planned worked? She wasn’t sure. Her simple call had just been a few words. But, if they chose to follow, she was certain they chose it over their king’s orders. The idea alone was enough to make her giddy. 

 The first to part the curtain of smog was Fili. Shortly after was his brother. Their eyes widened at the sight of her, Fili’s face breaking into a grin as he rushed to her side. Kili’s eyes sparkled, but his expression remained slightly dower. She wondered if he still harbored ill feelings toward her or sadness from his accidental arrow. 

 “Miss Aria!” Fili called. “It’s so good to see you ali…” 

 “Fili,” She interrupted. “We need to gather around this tree and defend it. Two of your comrades are over the side and need help. We have to keep the enemy away from us while a few of us do our best to get them back on land.” 

 Fili’s smile fell and his eyes strayed just beyond her shoulder to the elder and what dangled from his staff. She knew the fear within his eyes and the deep set urge to fix the issue. She, too, had felt it more times than she’d wished to count. Yet, she knew there was nothing she could do without knowing she could do it unharmed. The threat of the orcs’ charge felt impending despite the fact they were leaderless. 

 Wolves who are leaderless will still attack if hungry…Tane commented. Aria couldn’t agree more. 

 With a nod, Fili turned toward Kili. By that time, Bofur and Bifur had arrived. Bombur galloped along with Dwalin and Balin in tow moments after. Gloin and Oin and Nori quickly sped his way into the circle but she realized immediately that two more had yet to show. A call from over the cliff sent her heart to plummet to her stomach. 

 “Where are Dori and Ori?” Bofur asked, his hat frazzled. He panted, bending over to rest his hands upon his knees. 

 Aria turned in horror as the sudden realization of who had fallen over the cliff hit her like waves of an angry sea. She’d never wished for a duo to have been subject to the horrid experience they were dealing with at that moment. She’d never wished any of this chaos to have befallen on any of them. She was sure none deserved it. 

 “An’ Thorin?” Gloin asked suddenly, eyes wild with worry. 

 Aria faced the dwarves she’d assembled, finding that their king was not among them. She’d hoped he would have slipped in while she’d been distracted. Yet, knowing how he acted, she wouldn’t have figured him to listen to her call. A fear bubbled deep within her, a knowledge that he’d not heeded her request and had kept fighting. Or ignored her. 

 “Miss Jackson?” Balin’s bearded face glanced to her. “Where you the one who assembled us? Why hasn’t Thorin listened?” 

 “He’s your king.” She replied. “I’m pretty sure he didn’t want to come.” 

 “Gandalf!” Dwalin strode toward the tree and the struggling elder. “Wha’ can we do ta’ help?” 

 The rest of the conversation left her, her mind grinding at the thought of their missing leader. The whirling smoke did little to reveal his whereabouts and an anger and worry curdled within her gut. She was enraged by his lack of self-preservation or the lack of the will power to stay with the others. Was he so selfish as to sacrifice his life for that of a single fight? 

 Had she felt that way before as well? 

 She knew what she had to do. It wasn’t as if she wanted to but the urge to gather them, to keep them safe was far more powerful than the will to listen to her own reasons to stay. Perhaps she was just like Thorin in that aspect. Maybe she was selfish enough to stay fighting when the band had clearly left but she also was not one that would leave a part of her party behind. Despite the fact that she was an interloper among them, she had grown to fancy them in a way she hadn’t before. An almost motherly or sisterly need had befallen her just enough to allow her mind to understand the importance of keeping them alive. 

 Even though he hated her, she would keep Thorin alive as well. 

 Tane leaned into her as if he already knew her plan before she did. She crawled upon his back, weaving her fingers through his fur. Bilbo slid from Tane, eyes reaching hers. With a curt nod, they shared an unspoken agreement that he would remain. She wanted to keep him safe as well and despite the worry written in his soft gaze, he chose not to argue. 

 “Keep them safe, Bilbo.” She told him with a small smile. “If I don’t return…” 

 “You will, Miss Aria.” He grinned, gripping her hands within his tiny ones. “I know it.” 

 She lifted her gaze to the others, but chose not to speak to them until she returned. Their eyes followed her as she urged Tane to leap into the fray, hearing most call at her from behind. Bilbo stopped them and she was thankful. Her heart hammered inside her chest and she hoped her plan would work. 

 Outside their cleared area, the brittle corpses of both trees and orcs littered the once peaceful forest floor. Her eyes burned as the smoke engulfed her. She blinked, feeling the tears stream down her stained cheeks. Leaning forward against Tane’s neck, she did her best to clear her sight. 

 I will be your eyes, Cub. The Warg responded. I can see and I can hear. I will find him. 

Thank you, Tane. She replied, burying her face into his fur. He smelled of soot and wood, the deep musk of his kind barley there. 

Burying herself within his mind felt like dipping slowly into a warm pool of water. It engulfed her, enveloping her body and psyche until she was fully submerged within. She fought it for a moment, the feeling of complete and total surrender something she wasn’t sure about at first. However, he soothed her and allowed her to find comfort within his voice. 

All at once and not at all, the area unlocked before her like a great safe full of treasures. She fell into his mind as it opened before her, sliding her eyes closed as she did so. The air felt heavy, the scent of it burning her nostrils with fearsome vigor. The sensation was far more intense than what she’d felt when she’d been in her own mind and more a thousand times more foul. It seemed that the air itself hung like a great curtain of ash and embers, her Warg simply parting the matter like a water sliding against a fish’s scales under the waves. 

She could hear everything far and wide. A tiny crack of a twig felt like thunder to her ears and the rush of the wind was a roar. Tane’s eyesight bloomed with colors she’d not known to exist. At first, her mind strayed to the fact that dogs did not fully have access to the colors humans did. She remembered that Tane was not, in fact, a dog. He was from another world and, so, he was not expected to have the same characteristics as the canines of Earth. Even as their exterior represented a distant ancestor of the popular pet, perhaps Wargs were far different than anything she could put her finger on. 

Even still, she was enamored with the bursts of colors all around her. The burning trees lying charred and broken upon the ground were not just gray and black. To him, she could still see the remnants of glowing embers deep within the wood. She could feel the heat, hear the sizzle, and taste the char upon the air. The bitterness caused bile to rise in her throat. Everything was heightened and everything felt even more real than she could imagine. To keep her wits, she ignored the buffeting noise and focused everything on the sight before her and the steady guiding of her mount. She was reminded to remain sharp and diligent. Nothing could throw them off guard lest she wished to locate her charge.

 A dignified snap to their right was dynamite to her overly searching senses. Tane turned, his teal gaze probing the shadows and carnage for any sign of the dwarf king. There seemed to be nothing, but Tane did not follow her mindset. He moved toward the sound and Aria dipped closer to her mount to hide herself against his bulk. 

 Another amplified shuffle caused her Warg to immediately set himself into a defensive stance. Through the haze of smoke and ash a dark form came forth. With a quickness that surprised her, Aria tore her mind from her connection with Tane and drew the crusty sword at her side. The clang of metal sounded against the trunks of the trees like clashing machines, her body screaming as the orc’s blade collided with her own. 

 It was without a mount and at a great disadvantage. Using her foot, she placed her heel upon its breast plate and pushed. The movement alone cause her muscles to groan under its bulk, her breath caught in her throat as she used what she could to push. The thing stumbled backward, weakened from battle, and roared again. She had just a moment to point the tip of her sword forward when the thing impaled itself upon her blade. Its dark eyes lost its light as she allowed it to fall limply to the side. 

 Tane didn’t alert her to any other forms after that and she enveloped herself in his senses once again. They slowly made their way forward for what seemed like eons. More bodies and more carnage surrounded them, swirling embers from the fires billowing around the duo as they picked their way along the ashen soil. 

 Something rustled again, Aria’s entire body growing stiff. She remained immersed with his mind, seeking answers from him in case something emerged that could cause them harm. Tane’s apprehension surged through her mind and he halted. She remained silent, allowing the Warg to cautiously pick his way through the potential threat. It would be up to him if he deemed anything dangerous. 

 A pounding heartbeat reached her ears and she gripped the fur upon Tane’s nape tighter. Given the fact that she’d heard a vastly different one from the orc earlier, she grew curious as to what creature held such a steady beat. The deep tang of iron wafted through the smoke riddled air, a sudden fear rising at the back of her throat. It was not orc blood she sensed. 

Tane understood, suddenly rushing to the base of a large tree on feet lighter than his bulk would show. His eyes roved the area for any sign of life, his gaze falling upon the limp form propped up against the large roots. A scent filled Aria’s nostrils, something she knew but had not really compartmentalized within her mind. A deep musk and the scent of ash coupled with earth. It was not at all horrid. Not like the Orc scent. What concerned her, however, was the scent of blood.  Despite this, she knew him. She now knew his scent. 

Thorin. 

His body seemed limp, face lax and eyes heavy lidded indicating his weariness. She could still hear his heart through her connection with Tane, and she was thankful. The dark strands of his hair fell in fell across his shoulders and face. Dark stains bloomed across his arms, bile rising in Aria’s throat. She feared the worse, however. 

“Thorin!” She called to the dwarf king. “Thorin, can you hear me?” 

She broke her connection with Tane, slipping quickly down to the dwarf’s side. She could see the rugged gouges of claw marks upon his sides, a possible souvenir from the claws of a Warg. The sting on her cheek caused her a moment of understanding to pass at the knowledge of yet another sharing a similar scar. 

His chest rose and fell, but not as deeply as she would have preferred. She was no doctor, but it didn’t take one to realize he was weak and not in good condition. She lifted her gaze to Tane who regarded her for a moment before nodding his approval of her choice. They needed to get him upright and make it back toward the cleared area with the others. If the elder, Gandalf, had summoned help as he’d stated, they would need to be there. 

She heard a groan and gazed back at the dwarf king. His eyes fluttered open for a moment, the crystal blue regarding the girl’s visage before he snarled weakly. 

“Leave me be.” He hissed. “I will prefer to die without you here to watch me.” 

She set back upon her heels, eyes narrowed at his stubbornness. “You will do no such thing. You will get on Tane and you will come with me to the others.” 

“Are they safe?” he asked, blood dribbling at the corners of his mouth. She hoped wherever it came from that it had been acquired from elsewhere. Internal bleeding was just short of a death sentence. “Are the others safe?” 

“Yes.” She nodded. “They are waiting for you.” 

He made as if to lift himself from the tree, hisses of pain causing the girl to react without thinking and grip his arm. The armor beneath her fingertips felt cold and harsh, sticky orc blood coating the once beautiful metal. 

“I will not ride your beast.” He snarled. 

“You have no choice.” She cut sharply. “Get on him or die. Do you really want your mission to go to waste by staying here? The others followed you here for a reason. Give them that reason. Come with me and live.” 

He lifted his gaze to her and for once she wondered if he truly saw her then. The clarity within his blues finally sharpened. He blinked a few times, allowing his vison to return fully before wearily regarding her for a moment. A plethora of emotions fell upon his face as best they could. She read awe and confusion along with the normal apprehension. 

“Can I trust you to get me to safety?” He asked. 

“Have I given you any reason to doubt me so far?” 

He snarled, but the gesture fell on her indifference to his stubborn sensibilities. For a moment, he remained against the tree. His eyes bore into hers and she held the gaze there. To keep him from dying, she would stare him down until there was nothing left. She could feel her confidence rise like a lion’s roar and she dared him to defy her. 

Then, he moved again. It was not in a way as if he were wishing to take his own path and instead, it was one of which she could understand as an agreement unspoken between them. She quickly rose as well, taking his arm and slinging it across her shoulder. He was taller than she was, standing a good inch or two above her. His weight bore down on her weary body, causing her to grunt in pain. Tane was beside them in an instant, helping her lift the dwarf upon his proud back and allowing her a moment to clamber atop him as well. She wrapped her arms around the drooping dwarf, his armor almost too thick to do so, and urged her mount to move forward. She didn't allow herself to submerge her mind into Tane’s and he understood. She trusted him to get them where they needed to go. 

They slowly picked their way through the trees and the fire, Aria doing her best to keep the dwarf in her arms upright. She felt Tane’s discomfort within her. She shushed him as best she could, forcing him to focus upon the path and getting them to safety. 

Movement alerted her to a fallen tree on her left. Dread bubbled in her gut, her grip on Thorin tightening. She could feel the warm blood soaking the sleeve of her sweatshirt. She feared him to be losing too much and urged Tane to increase his speed. 

There is something within the trees. Tane replied to her push. Why isn’t there more? 

I don’t know, Aria commented. I don’t want to stay and find out, though. 

Tane agreed and pushed himself forward with greater intensity. The movement increased as if whatever they’d heard earlier had augmented their speed as well. She knew it wasn’t anything friendly, but it puzzled her at the fact that it hung behind. Given their current state, they were vulnerable. They were in the open and taxed by something else rather than on their guard. Tane seemed was the only one that was focused on the area around them, Aria’s on the dwarf king within her grasp. 

A crack signaled more movement, a roar erupting from the surrounding area only to be mirrored by more. Aria gasped, knowing full well they were encircled by the enemy. Nasty fear leaped into her heart again and her breaths grew faster. Tane understood the shift in the air and leaped forward as smoothly as he could toward the direction of their party. Behind them, Aria heard the calls of orcs and snarls of their mounts. She didn’t dare look back for she couldn’t fight them given her current state. 

Tane bounded across the soil and ash, Aria clinging to the dwarf king with all her might. She hoped that the jostling ride would do little damage to his already injured body. For all it was worth, she didn’t wish any ill will toward the hateful king and wanted more than anything for everyone to come out of the ordeal alive. 

The roars of the enemy fragmented the sky and the whipping trees as the trio bounded forward over dead logs. Spidery fingers of glowing embers marked their remains and she felt their heat. Aria could hear the crackle of the old timber as it was consumed by the fire from within. She feared a similar fate for herself and her comrades, the destiny being that they would soon perish at the maw of the enemy. 

 She could see the daylight ahead. The split in the haze and smoke gleamed like a beacon in the darkest of night and Tane understood the sudden realization even before Aria acknowledged it. However, she knew immediately that her hope could soon be dashed, the rancid breath of the enemy still hot upon their heels. 

 “Fili…Kili!” She roared ahead. “The enemy is on my tail! Be ready!” 

 Her voiced echoed across the mountainside, shreds of it dissipating into tattered pieces as it continued its descent. Aria was certain the enemy had heard her wail, but she cared not. All that mattered was her cargo and the safety of the company. 

Yet, even the thought of that was beginning to dwindle. The stretch of ground between her and the cleared smoke seemed to lengthen and grow. It appeared as if she were caught in an endless loop, a corridor in a horror game that was just too long, and she feared the demon at the end. She willed it to not occur, to remain in the shadows and allow her passage. She wanted so badly for everyone to make it out alive. 

She closed her eyes. 

The yips and howls of the enemy reminded her of the fate that would befall her if she failed. The beautiful sky she knew was above reminded her to a destiny that could happen if she succeeded. All surged and flowed as if she were upon a busy street in New York City. She’d never been, but she could imagine the cacophony of noises rising and barraging a person’s mind. It was enough to drive her mad. 

Something whipped past her, cleaving the smoky air like a knife. She felt its gust of wind brush against her cheek as many more began to follow. She opened her eyes quickly to see a bright, brilliant light before her. The sky cleaved and a burst of color blinded her, water forming at the corners of her eyes. She felt Tane’s joy flood her veins and she could feel her worry begin to fade slightly with the instant promise of relief. 

More objects whizzed past her like bolts of black oblong and twisted by the blinding speed in which they traveled. She lifted her gaze forward toward the tree and witnessed Kili with bow drawn. He loosed his arrows rapidly, the objects speeding past her with record speed. She turned just as two arrows hit their mark and felled the beasts and their riders that flanked her. 

As soon as they entered the area with the dwarves, Tane twirled around to view the hell that had followed them. Aria slipped from his back in a slump, her sword falling somewhere by her, and guarded the wounded king as best she could with her already tattered body. A few of the company, Bofur included, came to her aid. They lifted him from her grasp and she fell once again on tired legs. 

“He’s…not…good,” She stumbled. “I’m not sure…how bad…though.” 

Her lungs struggled to capture the air around her, her heart threatening to burst. Yet, she knew she was far from being cleared of danger. She could hear the snarls and the slathering of their enemy beyond her field of vison. She could hear Kili’s arrows flying from his bow in haste and she realized she could be helping him as well. 

Yet, she couldn’t move nor did she have anything that she could help him with. She knew she had pushed herself to hard. Her body felt weaker than it had when she’d first arrived and it was no wonder she’d not fallen dead moments before. She knew, though, that if she chose that path she would never see the fruits of what she’d been through. She’d never walk with the company toward whatever goal or see the smile upon Bilbo’s face as he’d answer her plethora of questions she was bound to ask. She would never see the brothers. Even as she knew she didn’t know them very well, she’d grown fond of them. 

“Fuck.” She hissed as she struggled to stand. 

“Here.” Someone spoke, a warm arm looping under her left armpit to lift her up. Another followed on right. “It looks like you need some aid, Miss Aria.” 

She knew that voice. She knew the warmth and the presence. Blinking, she smiled weakly at Fili who returned hers with an even wider one. His eyes sparkled with promise and, for a moment, Aria shared in that emotion. Kili stepped into view from her right, his eyes dark but void of unease toward her. He was simply there, helping her when she needed it and she could accept that. 

“Thank you.” She breathed. 

“You might need this, Miss Aria.” Kili presented her with something, her eyes dropping down to view rough object within his fingers, dark cord lacing around his palm. Its gleam of red caused a new sense of excitement to swallow what little weariness she’d felt. 

“Drayuik.” She breathed. 

The Fire Bringer. 

 “Nori found it upon the ground somewhere around here and knew it didn’t belong to any of us.” Fili smiled as he spoke. “He was about to take it for himself until Kili spied it and realized he’d spotted it on you when you arrived in the cave. He grabbed it before Nori could shove it into his armor.” 

 Aria shifted her gaze to the dark haired brother, eyes softening. He was reckless and foolish, something she didn’t need to ask his brother about. Somehow, she just knew. Yet, he was a caring soul whose heart seemed to be in the right or if he ever would. But, he had saved her prized possession and the only thing she had from her grandmother. 

 With lightning speed, she enveloped the dark haired brother in an embrace. He remained stiff and still, his body ridged like stone as she squeezed his neck slightly. He smelled of smoke and spice, his warmth radiating through her and giving her just the energy she needed. 

 “Thank you,” She whispered to him. “Thank you so much, Kili.” 

 She let him go after that, taking the pendant from the bewildered Kili and turning toward the wall of smog and filth. Drayuik sang in her palm, its sudden heat warming her to her core as it recognized its master. She wished for the sword as bright as fire to burst forth and felt the object extend in her grasp. The orange glow of the blade gleamed brightly against the darkness beyond. 

 A call split the sky and the air around them suddenly turned to frost. It wasn't what she’d heard before. Its depth felt ominous, far too ominous for what remained of their enemy. It struck her hard, raking icy claws down her spine with sudden dejection. Whatever had made the sound was no simple orc. 

 A dread so fierce she felt the sting sliced through Aria’s heart. She gasped against it, a unexpected knowledge ripping her reality asunder until she couldn’t breathe. She knew that call and she knew the anger behind it. The burn upon her cheek seared like a hand upon a stove burner, her eyes blinded by the white hot agony until they wept. She could no longer feel the brothers beside her nor could she feel the sword within her palm. She knew what horror raced toward them with terribly swiftness. 

 “Azog.” She snarled against the pain, shock and horror seeming to encompass her entire heart. “He’s coming.” 

 “The White Orc?” Kili’s voice wavered. “I thought he was gone.” 

 “He’s not.” Aria turned toward the youngest dwarf. “You both need to go. Get out of here.” 

 “Not without you, Miss Aria.” Fili squared his shoulders against her demands. “We won’t leave you behind again.” 

 She felt her heart swell with admiration toward the fair haired dwarf, yet the time was not appropriate for such stubborn antics. His tenacity seemed fitting and, in a different situation, she would have found it amusing. Yet, she knew what hell came upon the smoky air. She could almost hear his ragged breathing upon her neck as she stood with her back against the darkness. She knew just how vile he could be. 

 Shaking her head, she placed a hand upon Fili’s shoulder. “No. You haven’t seen him. You don’t know what he’s capable of.” 

 “He gave you that mark,” Kili snarled. “We can see clearly what he can do.” 

 “This is nothing compared to what other things I know he’s able to do. He’s worse,” She countered as she glanced up toward the tree. “Far worse.” 

 “Well, you alone cannot defeat him.” Fili snorted. “There is only one of you and many of us. We can take him.” 

 “Are you deaf?” Aria spat. “You two are siblings. You are family. There is no way I will let any one of you die. I do not belong here. My destiny is unwritten. Perhaps, I can buy you enough time to rescue your comrades and escape. Perhaps, if I perish, I will return home. It could all be a dream, you know.”

 The roar returned, saturating the air with rage. She could taste the terror upon her tongue, her blood freezing as she imagined the horrible being rushing forward as they spoke. Thunderous vibrations within the soil caused her heart to race, sending her nerves to fire within her like warning shots. His imminent nearness sent shivers down her spine, her knees beginning to shake. 

 Then, it stopped all together and Aria knew immediately why. 

 He was already there. 

 Aria turned just as a pair of seething ice blues pierced the wall of the smoke before them. Then, it parted for the massive orc, his eyes dropping down searching the ground at his mount’s feet. He was astride a dark, nasty appearing Warg and one that seemed much smaller than the one Aria had slain. For a swift moment, Aria felt as if it looked wrong underneath the monster that straddled it. She could feel the unbridled giggled at the thought tickling the back of her throat. If she had been watching this as a cinema, she would have. But, she was upon the same soil that he tread upon. She breathed the same air as her enemy. She stood before him with shoulders square, staring death straight in the face unlike someone who watched a similar situation from the comfort of their couch. 

 “You need to go.” She urged once again to the brothers. “He’s not after you.” 

 “What do you mean?” Fili asked, hand upon his sword. 

 She drank in the smoke and fumes wafting around her and sighed nervously. “The mark on my cheek was only the beginning. He’d wanted to do worse before but I killed his mount. It’s personal now.” 

 As if understanding her, Azog’s gaze finally shifted and met with hers. They narrowed, the air between them suddenly quiet and sizzling with unhinged rage. Gleaming fangs peeked out from beneath his lips. She knew then that if she fell to the hands of the enemy, she would not make it out alive. 

The White Orc roared, thrusting his weaponized arm forward. He spoke in the dark speech she could not understand but, somehow, she knew he’d claimed her for his kill. She could feel it in every fiber of her being. It rang within the cords of her heart, penetrating her core with razor claws, and boiling within her veins like lava. 

 “Go!” She cried to the brothers. “Get out of here. Save your own.” 

 Azog slipped from his mount, large boots sending tremors through the ash and soil into her bones. For a minute, they stood in silence. Everything behind Aria fell away until there was nothing left but the two of them. Silence fell thick as it had when he’d first spotted her moments ago. She had to move. She had to do something. He would not stand there silently for long. 

 “Miss Aria!” Fili cried. “You do not need to do this alone. We can aid you!” 

A shadow spread upon the soil from above. Azog’s gaze did not leave Aria. Her fear nearly choked her as she refrained from glancing upward. A wind far heavier than any in Oklahoma began to whip at the tree tops. She felt the hair at her nape stand on end at the awareness of yet another enemy.  The company had mentioned a dragon earlier before they’d fallen victim to the goblins. Had that dragon come? 

Little Cub! Tane’s voice split through skull. She winced, shutting her eyes for a moment. 

However, that moment had cost her greatly. She’d been mistaken in taking her eyes from her enemy. Given the fact that she’d not ever experienced such a thing, she’d forgotten to listen to her gut. She’d been a fool to have shut her eyes at all even if it had been for the briefest of seconds.

Azog lunged forward, his fangs gleaming in the sunlight and weaponized arm lifted upward toward the heavens. The party behind him stood fast, refraining from moving forward until otherwise specified by their leader. Aria felt herself blanch, raising Drayuik up in defense even as her muscles screamed. 

Azog grew closer, claws out and ready to impale her. Her blood curdled, heart pounding like a thousand drums, and she froze in her fear. In that moment, she wondered if she’d ever knew the girl who slew so man orcs moments earlier. Who plunged head long into the fires and smoke that surrounded her company in search of their king. Had she not fallen into a pit of death only to climb out into the open and escape? 

A flash of black fur and razor fangs blocked her view just as the arm of her enemy came down as if to strike. She realized her folly, her protector’s large maw opening to plant a vice-like grip upon the muscular forearm of Azog. The White Orc roared out of fury and surprise, Tane gripping harder upon the flesh. She heard the split of flesh and saw the drip of black blood oozing onto the soul and tainting her mounts tongue with its horrid coagulation. 

Yet, Tane was not alright. He’d fought so much while upon the mountainside but she’d not seen him falter. However, as they kept fighting, he had taxed his body over and over again. She could sense the fatigue within his old bones, feel his breath leave him quicker than it should. 

She needed to do something. 

In the blink of an eye, Drayuik’s glowing red blade sang as it was brought forth into the light of day. Her eyes fell to the vibrating weapon, its steadying illumination reminding her of what she had been capable of in the death pit or in the woods. The something she needed to do lay right before her and her ability to perform it was held within her palm. 

Her grip tightened and she looked forward once again. Anger replaced the shock and disappointment she’d felt with herself and Aria narrowed her gaze at the fighting pair before her arms moved of their own accord. She jolted forward, sword elevated above her head, and dove for something she could strike at. Something soft. 

The impact caught her off guard as Drayuik met flesh. Her skin registered the warm spray of something wet and the squelch that flesh made when sliced. She lurched at the retaliation of her mark, realizing he was far stronger than her. With annoyance or displeasure, she wasnt sure which, Azog began his attempt to fend them both off. 

Tane, she called to her Warg. Let go, my friend. 

With a serious yank, she brought her sword from the beast’s arm and prepared herself for another strike. She widened her stance even as her knees quaked horridly. Tane heeded her request and he fell away from the White Orc to fall in line beside her. She could feel his annoyance at having been ordered to let go, yet his respect for her concern for him held strong. 

Her Warg needed to leave her. He needed to go to the others and protect them, not her. As she’d stated earlier, her purpose had yet to be determined and she wondered if she served any purpose at all. She clearly had been given a very large test, one she was surprised to have survived thus far. Yet, she also pondered on the fact that her path could possibly end at the hands of the orc. She wanted Tane to be her backup. She wanted him to be the last line of fury and defense until the others could save themselves. 

Another shadow passed above but Aria’s gazed remained trained upon the orc. 

Tane, you need to go. She urged the black Warg. Go to the company. Keep them safe. You’re the last leg of defence. 

He wanted to argue. She could feel it in their bond. Yet, if her gaze held any power, he couldnt. She could hear his inner turmoil, his need to stay but having no other choice but to go. He was compelled to listen by whatever agreement they shared between each other. 

The Warg moved to go, but Aria paid no heed to his movements. She turned away from the beast to face another. Azog glared at her through narrowed eyes, lips curled into a snarl. His injured arm rose upward and she knew he meant to strike her. She gave a shrill cry, unleashing everything within her out into the open and brought the glowing blade of Drayuik to shield her face. She felt the tremor rip through her tired muscles and sparks fly from the impact. Her knees quivered again and threatened to give out from under her. She hoped and prayed to whatever god or gods ruled over the new land to aid her. To keep her from falling right before her enemy.

 However, it seemed they had not listened and dread flooded her as she slowly began to sink.  The sharp bits of twigs and dirt bit through the thin layer of denim at her knees. She could feel unshed tears begin to sting at the corners of her eyes, but she didn’t dare give the monster before her any reason to believe he was winning. 

Her body recoiled. It fought against her will to keep fighting. Her mind warred her own bones at the thought of continuing whatever duty she attempted to fulfill. Even when she knew she needed to stay upright, her tired muscles screamed for respite as she sank even lower into the ashen dirt. 

But something still kept her from giving in. A voice in the back of her mind, one strong and powerful yet somewhat distant, reminded her that she could not give in. It was annoyed at her lack of self-preservation, rudely taunting her that if she gave up she would be weak. Aria being the type that did not like to be chastised, felt her blood boil and catalysts of new energy surge through her. 

With a roar of anger and pain, Aria pushed upward with screaming arms and all of her might. Drayuik sang as she shoved forward against the orc’s weaponized arm. Sparks erupted between the two, fizzling out upon the earth and embers at their feet. Aria’s gaze fell downward for a split second, her mind reeling as the Orc snarled at her sudden outburst. With a massive thrust she didn’t know she’d had, she pushed the orc backward and sent him stumbling. 

Another shadow passed overhead and a shrill call split the air. She didn’t have a moment to find what had made the noise, the terrifying orc rushing toward her with a roar. She managed to counter him, pivoting on her heels with stamina she’d not possessed earlier. 

Just a little more, she told herself. Just keep him busy.

Azog passed her with fury intent, his stench overwhelming her nostrils. She stood farther away just as he planted his weapon within the soil. He fought against the tug of the earth with unhinged rage, reminding the girl swiftly of wild creature. Bits of dirt flew around him as he tugged and struggled. 

Another shadow passed. Another scream. Aria’s gaze dared to life upward tod see what had made such a horrid sound. 

Feathers fluttered upon giant wings, a triangular head and massive amber eyes quickly scanning the area below it for something she couldn’t pinpoint. Somehow, Aria felt no fear and knew what the creatures were. They were hope upon swift wings, soaring down to aid them. They were what Gandalf had summoned somehow and she would have denied it if her heart had not felt it to be the right answer. 

Like most everything she’d felt in the new world, she simply knew it to be true. 

Soon, her moment expired as the thundering of feet signaled her enemy to have freed himself from his earthly bonds. He was even angrier than before, his eyes almost burning her with their hatred. She whirled away from him as he lumbered past her. She could feel the heat of fire kissed wreckage upon the soil, realizing that embers still glowed blue and hot at her feet. 

Without thinking, she urged Drayuik to withdraw with haste and placed the pendant around her neck. She quickly scooped a handful of the embers within the sleeve of her hoodie and began running. A plan formed within her mind quickly and her feet moved on their own. The plan involved the cliff, a lure, and something of a distraction. A voice within her head had shared valuable information. 

Tane, She glanced to a dark figure joining in time with her pace. Why are you still here. Where is everyone? 

They are safe. He answered. 

The cliff jutted out sharply before her. The roots of the tree her comrades had dangled from rose gnarled into the air like tentacles. She pumped her legs faster, unsure if the white beast behind followed.

What are you doing, Cub? 

Luring him to cliff. I will fling the embers into his eyes and throw him from it. She’d informed the Warg swiftly. He will fall to his death. Simple as that. 

At least, she hoped he would. From the last two encounters with him, she’d not witnessed anything that could harm him much. Tane had barely done any damage or the creature felt no pain. Whatever it was, she needed to do something that would end him once and for all. 

A tumble from a cliff had to work. 

In his rage, Azog followed the girl. She could feel his pounding feet behind her. She kept moving, the embers balled in her sweatshirt beginning to scorch the fabric. The smell of the burned cotton mixture met her nostrils but she chose to ignore it. 

To her surprise, and her relief, there were no dwarves to meet her. Somehow, she associated their vanishing to be related the shadows upon the soil, the horrid screeches that rang through the air, and the eyes of ember larger than her head. Her heart spoke to her of allies in her story, her grandmother’s mentions of one within their party that had been close friends with various creatures that could be of use on the company’s quest. 

The Eagles have taken them, Tane informed her

The Eagles. Somehow, Aria already knew that. It had been told her in her grandmother’s story. 

Movement ahead alerted her that not all of her comrades had been taken. The figure was tall and lanky with a smaller figure next to it. Aria’s heart fell to her pounding feet at the realization that the smaller figure was Bilbo. She’d hoped he’d been the first to be taken away as soon as she’d learned of the eagles. Yet, for some reason, he’d chosen to stay behind. 

“Miss Aria!” Bilbo’s voice rang through the air, his small form growing closer as he meant to meet her in the middle. 

“Go Bilbo!” She replied to him with a cry, her uninhabited arm flinging into the air. “You don’t want to meet me right now!” 

The Hobbit seemed bewildered, the blue glow of his sword dropping slightly. Yet, as he viewed the terror on her heels, he shook himself and retreated toward the tree. The taller figure stood straighter it seemed until she knew exactly who it was. But, just as she felt him ready himself for the battle toward the beast in her wake, the large talons of a creature enclosed wizard, lifting him into the sky. A blast of wind whirled around the assembly, ripping at hair and dirt and fire. The immensity of the creature shrouded the sun, blanketing the land in shadow until it lifted away with the wizard in tow. 

Bilbo was gathered next and so was Tane.  Soon, Aria was left alone upon the cliff. Her heart wondered if she would even be saved or be left to the fruits of her current endeavor. But, it was a fleeting thought. The smallest of wonderings. 

She had something she needed to do. 

Aria turned once she met the precipice, the dangling tree just inches from losing its grip upon the earth and toppling over the edge. The raging orc behind her grew closer, the heat of the embers having seared through fabric. The bite of fire upon flesh met her nostrils and, after all she’d smelled before, branded itself there within her brain forever. 

But she did not lose grip on them nor did she fling them within her enemy’s eyes right then. The time had yet to come. She could feel it deep within her. She would know when the time was right. 

For what seemed like eons to the awaiting defense, Aria felt her world pause once again. There were various different outcomes that could be birthed from her situation. She could do as she wished, her plan, and end the orc once and for all. It would be the most ideal solution. 

However, the outcome in which her plan could fail also rose its ugly head. She could miss her mark entirely and anger the demon even more. From there, she didn’t have much choice in exits. It pained her to think of such a fate, her mind daring not even to rove there. Then again, she’d been delivered many reasons in which the product could be messy. 

In a breath of a minute, Aria deemed the orc’s proximity close enough and steadied her footing. If she hit her mark with the burning coals within her grip, she would dive away safely from the orc as he struggled. Then, if it still continued to serve as a legitimate plan, he would topple over the side in the struggle and she would be rid of him. 

Aria rose her fistful of embers, feeling the sting of her actions shoot down her arm. Her breath halted in her lungs, heart thundering against her breast plate. Time sped along again as the orc barreled forward,proving that moment to be the only chance she would receive to end her current nightmare. 

She released the pent breath within her chest and unleashed her quarry of molten wood and dirt. The air seemed to sizzle as the embers flew through it, gleaming orange and sparking in the haze. Azog realized what was to come, his eyes trained only on the fiery haired human upon the cliff. 

Luck seemed to be on the girl’s side, however, as her ammunition hit its mark. The embers sparked as they collided with the hard planes of the orc’s face. She could hear the sizzle as the white hot wood met flesh and began boiling it immediately. He roared, halting his trajectory to rake the horrid mess from his vision. He writhed upright, fighting and struggling, swinging blindly with his limbs to scrape away the mess upon his face. He swiped forward, missing her as she whirled around him and away from the edge of the cliff. 

Hope began to blossom in the girl’s bosom. The pendant purred there. Her plan had worked so far and she couldn’t help but to allow the dam of her doubt to break and relief swell within her. He flailed mere feet from her, edging ever so close to the edge. As he grew nearer, she made her move to end the deal. 

Then, her hope dashed itself at the base of her diaphragm as a clawed hand shot out, gripping the hood of her sweatshirt and pulling. 

Chapter Text

“May the wind under your wings bear you where the sun sails and the moon walks.” – Gandalf, The Hobbit

She heard nothing but the rush of wind in her ears as she fell. The speed in which she did so felt like time had slowed during her descent. Her arms were sore, her legs and shoulders screamed in pain, and the rest of her body willed itself to quit. She’d been through too much, far too much to keep going. She wished to close her eyes against her will, wishing the horrid nightmare to end right then. 

Yet, the creature that had brought about her unfortunate plunge didn't allow her to. He wished to end her more than she wished for her own end. During their quick descent, she’d turned toward him as he flailed and lashed out. His eyes blazed with malice and hatred and she knew immediately that he’d burned her image into his mind before his demise. 

She wasn't sure if she needed to bring forth Drayuik or leave it be, the pendant having gone cold as it struggled to remain within the confines of her hoodie. She felt calm albeit saddened by what was to come. She hadn't planned on ending so soon nor had she bet upon the fact that she’d barley been upon Middle Earth for very long and had already allowed herself a horrid end. 

She thought of the company and to where they had gone since she’d thrust herself into battle with Azog. She wondered as to what they thought on her whereabouts. She questioned if they thought she’d abandoned them or had met her end and she hoped that at least some of them would miss her as she had begun to miss them. Her heart ached to see their faces and get to know them as one would begin to know comrades and friends. She realized then that she never would. 

She wondered upon Thorin and if he would ever recover from his injuries. If she were correct, her grandmother’s stories were grey in the area. She had never informed her granddaughter if the dwarf would heal properly or not and that portion of the story seemed fuzzy to the red head. 

Perhaps he, too, would look back and remember that she had not been too horrible of a person despite her unwarranted arrival to the group. She’d not received the chance to know him properly, a thought she’d not entirely welcomed. Yet, she’d witnessed the change in his gaze as she’d helped him from the smoke filled forest. Would he remember and lose all begrudging thoughts he held of her? Did she care? 

Her mind wondered to Bilbo and Tane. How she had ordered them to leave so harshly. Would they ever forgive her? Her heart couldn’t, wouldn’t, dive into thoughts of them. It hurt too much and felt too immense to her already splitting soul. 

Something rang in her ears as she slammed her eyes shut against the barrage of wind buffeting her ears. It felt faint as it echoed off the walls of the valley below and  almost sounded akin to a whistle, reminding her of the various games she’d attended during softball while referees sand the song of their people with gleaming items no larger than half their palm. 

Something stirred within her mind as well, a familiar sensation she’d grown used to since she’d been thrust into the new world. The Stranger awakened inside her mind, suddenly alarmed as to what state it found her in. Utter helplessness consumed her, thoughts that were not her own engulfing her senses and numbing the outcome she knew was to come. It was as if The Stranger was protecting her, blocking away all sight and thoughts of the ground that rushed to meet her so quickly. 

Why have you done this? It screamed. Why have you chosen to throw yourself away? 

Tears stung at her eyes, floating with the rushing wind away from her face. I had no choice. I was grabbed. 

The Stranger’s anger flooded her, but it was not anger toward her actions but the actions of the being it somehow knew to be the culprit. The helplessness returned and she knew The Stranger wished to apologize and curse itself for its own inability to help her. She felt flattered, but she couldn't allow it to blame itself. It wasn't its fault. It was all hers. 

I feel something, The Stranger informed her. Look around you. 

I don't feel like seeing my death. She told it. Leave me be. 

Look. It told her again. 

She listened unwillingly, opening her eyes to find something dark below. Azog had fallen much farther than she, his white form flailing and writhing horridly far below her. The dark shape rose up to meet her much faster than she realized, a sensation of calm and peace enveloping her battered heart. Another familiar sensation tickled her brain but much closer than The Stranger. 

It wasn't them at all. It was someone much, much nearer. 

Ready yourself. The Stranger warned. 

For what? She quipped back. 

As soon as the thought escaped her, she saw feathers and the largest amber eye she’d ever witnessed. 

Then, a solid mass hit her square in the chest and she found darkness. 

******

The cavern yawned before her as she stood at the edge of the mouth she normally stood upon. The scent of sulfur raked against her nostrils, the heat pressing in on her from every angle. It should have bothered her, but she’d been in that same situation for what seemed like ages. The stench and the warmth barley caused any reaction.

“You are a fool.” A voice vibrated against her psyche. 

She couldn't see it, but she felt every bit of their annoyance. She couldn't deny the overwhelming anger that permeated the atmosphere. It reminded her of her folly, making quite sure she knew how idiotic her actions had been. How foolish she was for throwing herself away even if it wasn’t her fault. 

“If I was the fool,” She quipped, “ I at least did what I needed to do.” 

“At what cost?” the voice asked, a shadow moving just beyond her sight. Even more anger seethed through the air. 

“Everything.” She replied uncaring. 

“And would you be remembered for it?” 

She scoffed. “I don’t really care if I am or not. As long as they are safe.” 

A grumble filled her head, deep and saturated with even more rage. Her eyes lifted, glaring into the shadows in an attempt to find the source. She saw the form writhe within, gleaming ambers eyes burning her blood like lava. 

“If you are going to sacrifice yourself for something,” the voice hissed. “At least be remembered for it. Now, wake up.”

She furrowed her brown. “What?” 

“You need to wake up, Little Mouse.” 

“I can’t if I’m dead.” She replied, lowering her gaze as sadness found her.

“You were lucky this time.” 

“What do you mean?” she grew even more confused at the words. “What do you mean I was lucky?” 

Yet, she didn't get a chance to hear the answer. A tug, one similar to the one she’d felt upon the tree limb, pulled at her. A faint roaring met her ears, sounding akin to the rushing of wind. She felt a chill race down her spine, a ghosting of soft material within her fingers, and the feeling as if she were flying. 

Then, the shadows moved swiftly and the giant amber eye was upon her. 

“WAKE UP!” 

****

Aria gasped, her lungs screaming for delicious air. The wind whipped her hair violently as if she were amid the spring storm season in Oklahoma.  The hood of her sweatshirt flapped even more violently as well and almost chocked her. She felt unsteady, her legs astride something warm and solid beneath her seat. Her fingers flexed against a soft substance that felt akin to down pillows. She’d never even experienced such a thing, but it wasn't lost on her to understand just how soft they could have been if she’d had any. A wave of fatigue washed through her veins as she swayed, a noise unlike anything she’d heard before. To her, it felt similar to the beating of a heart. It was more external, however, which confused her. 

She blinked a few times, driving back the ebbing blur that had been her vision as she’d awakened. The sight before her caused her cheeks to blanch, her entire body going stiff. She blinked again, attempting to assess if she were dreaming or if she’d actually awakened into Hell. 

Aria bit back a scream that bubbled at the base of her throat. A horrid childhood fear she’d always harbored gripped her soul and she clung to whatever she straddled upon for support. She wished deeply to slam her eyes shut, to rid herself of the visage born of nightmares. But, she knew she couldn't. Somehow, a need to witness the spectacle she’d awakened in fueled the insanity that caused her to keep her gaze wide and open. 

The rushing wind deafened her, buffeting the greasy tendrils of her hair. It was chilly, permeating the fabric of her sweatshirt and jeans. She wasnt really sure what shirt she wore underneath anymore, but the wind bit through that all the same. It caused her to shiver, her entire body racked with the icy claws of the unyielding wind. 

Feathers. Dark tawny feathers as soft as silk brushed through her trembling fingers. They fluttered and whipped to and fro in the blustery wind. Wings drove upward and downward on either side of her, larger and more streamlined feathers flaring to touch the glowing clouds that ghosted across her cheeks. In all her years of horrifying homes and nights filled with nightmares from under her covers, she’d never witnessed such a sight. 

She was atop a giant creature or bird and she was airborne. 

She was airborne…

She was airborne!

Aria felt another flood of unease and she swayed once again. The bird she sat atop banked slightly to her left as if to keep her from tumbling over the side. For a moment, she was thankful for the gesture until she realized she still sat astride a giant bird, possibly thousands of feet above land, and she was airborne. 

She’d never fainted before her sudden arrival into Middle Earth, but she knew she felt it ebbing close.  Queasiness as daunting and nasty as any influenza she’d had caused her stomach to lurch. She felt heat rise from the collar of her sweatshirt, her forehead beginning to bead with sweat. Was she coming down with a fever? Was she about to hurl whatever contents she held in her stomach over the side of the bird she sat upon? She hoped not. She held nothing to throw up and there was the issue with the beast she straddled. No matter what it was, she dared not taint its beautiful feathers. Terror be damned. 

Her eyes caught sight of something within the vapor of the clouds, temporarily drawing her attention away from her internal predicament. Her unease dwindled slightly, her mind reaching for anything to quell her unsettled stomach. 

Through the mist, rugged figures sat atop an oblong shape that zipped across the sky almost like a giant jet plane. Below the giant shadow, she spotted legs larger than herself dangling down. Along with these legs were a set of smaller ones. Shouts faded in and out of her hearing, the wind doing nothing to help as it buffeted against her face and scalp. Despite this, she felt as if they were familiar voices. Were they people? Were they something else? Were they…

The dwarves. 

The dwarves atop other eagles and dangling from underneath them! 

Her unease dashed away in an instant at the hope that they survived. Her eyes searched the skies of azure blue and spotted cloud cover frantically for more signs. Through even more of the soft, white fluff, she spied even more dark, raptor shaped profiles slicing through the thin mist, wing spans as wide as two or more school busses with feathers spread like fingers toward the heavens. One flew parallel to her bird on the right, another soaring just to the left on swift wings. She glanced upward, a shadow falling upon her own mount. Another bird. Even more hope bubbled within her as she spotted figures atop each of the giant beasts. Rough hewn figures clad in clanking armor.

It was the company or at least a few of them. 

A sound came from the bird to her right, carried upon the ripping wind. Despite being unable to hear much of anything, she heard these words as if they were nearby. A grey eagle emerged from within the clouds, the few figures upon its back attempting to right themselves as if unused to flying. Friendly figures. Figures she was undoubtedly excited and relieved to see. 

Bofur and Balin. 

“Miss Aria!” Bofur called upon the wind. “It is very good ta see ya, lass!” 

“Right,” Another voice interjected. From below, it seemed. Gloin. “We all though you were dead!” 

Balin voiced his agreement, a few other joining from beyond her sight. Aria dared a glance under the giant eagle, her heart skipping within her chest at the sight of two dwarves dangling within the large talons. They didn’t appear uncomfortable albeit a bit ruffled from the ride. Bombur and Gloin gazed upward into her eyes, smiles small but earnest upon their faces. 

“I know its ya first time, lass.” Bofur called out. “It’s mine, too. Thought these giant chickens were ‘bout ta eat us all.” 

The eagle he straddled quirked its head, suddenly diving down sharply with a jerk. With this action, the dwarves upon its back lifted slightly, a cry of shock escaping both their lips. The eagle righted itself, Bofur stroking the head of the beast while his mouth moved quickly, possibly mumbling various apologies to it for speaking out of turn. 

“Bofur, lad, you best not do that again.” Balin chastised. “These are great eagles, possibly old friends of Gandalf’s. I’m not sure. Its in our best interest to show respect.” 

“I will defiantly not anger them further.” the other dwarf replied, righting the horrid eared cap upon his head. 

“Who else survived?” Aria called to the duo, passing their exchange off with her worried mind. 

Bofur glanced up. “I’m not sure, Miss Jackson. I only know of the two below me, those four over there, and whoever is above us.” 

Aria’s heart sank, her fingers digging deeper into the feathers of her eagle. The bird’s head twisted toward her slightly as if acknowledge her sudden sadness, righting it seconds later to focus upon its trajectory. 

Not knowing the outcome of the others set her hopes back quite dauntingly. Even if there were plenty she could see dangling or riding upon the eagles, she still did not know the fate of the others. It caused an overwhelming sadness to grip her heart, tears burning at the corners of her eyes. Somehow, she felt as if it were her fault if there were casualties. 

Movement caught the girl’s attention from below. A cry, loud and piercing, shot up from beneath the clouds. Aria watched as another eagle rose upward from the blanket of white fluff to take the lead. Atop the great bird sat a smaller figure and one that did not match the appearance of the others. Her heart knew the form but her mind denied it. Her hope had been dashed too many times in a small span to hold onto it anymore. 

At the sight of what dangled from the talons of the bird, however, she immediately felt her heart sink. A gasp caught in her throat, a cry of astonishment and joy bubbling to the surface. She held it in as she knew it would be lost in the roar of the wind. Yet, she couldn't suppress her fear, her horror, to see the lifeless form swinging in the wind. 

Thorin, the dwarf king, dangled limply from the ebony talons of the eagle that carried him. His complexion was shown white, sickly even. His eyes were shut and face lax as the great bird adjusted itself to take the lead. The tendrils of his dark hair flowed about his face, trailing in the wind while the bird rose to the forefront. She prayed that Thorin was still alive and whatever injuries he’d sustained that he’d endured. 

“Miss Aria!” A cheerful voice traveled through the wind and down to her. Her chest fluttered and she doubted the familiarity of the voice. She attempted to quell the swell of her heart but she couldnt deny the relief she felt at finally laying eyes on who had called to her. 

The figure clutching the feathers of the eagle with one hand and waving with his free one caused Aria to laugh aloud. It died on the wind, but that meant little to her in that moment. A broad, bright smile spread from pointy ear to pointy ear upon the figure’s face as his eyes twinkled with the same hope and relief bathing her insides. His tweed, buttonless, jacket flapped while he turned to wave again but the bluster of the wind seemed to knock him back. 

Aria felt her face break into a large smile. “Bilbo.” 

He appeared disheveled, albeit a bit shaken. However, he was intact and he was alive. There were no bits missing and to that she was very thankful. Of course, she knew he had seen things he’d never experienced before as she had. He would never be the same again. 

She wished to ask where they were headed. Without being able to see before them, she couldn’t discern their location nor could she pinpoint their destination. Something lay up ahead, something bathed in mist as white as snow capped peaks. Below them, as she dared to peer over the eagles side, a vast span of spotty landscape brilliant with vivid colors. She was unsure of what or where they were and she was uncertain just how far upward they scaled. From her vantage point, she figured quite a bit but she knew she could have been wrong. 

Right?

Aria lifted her gaze toward the lead eagle, deciding it was not worth the extra effort to attempt to figure things she couldn’t. Instead, she focused upon the wildly waving Hobbit once more and hoped her smile reached him. She slowly lifted a hand, a twinge of fear reminding her that she was very far from land, and began to cautiously wave at him in return. 

He was safe. A majority of the dwarves were, too. All that was left was…

Cub?

That voice. She knew it as she knew her own. It had rooted itself not very long ago, but it seemed to have always been there. The sentiment, the intimate nickname he’d given her caused her heart to bloom with joy as saturated as soil underwater. It infected her, spreading across her entire being like buttery sunlight. 

Tane. 

She frantically glanced all around her. Up and down, side to side. There were eagles on either side, but the faint sensation from her Warg indicated that he was not near her. It wasn’t far nor was it close. It was somewhere in between, like a small bug within thin pages of a book. Yet, all that seemed to matter to her was the fact that he was alive. 

I’m not sure where you are, She answered him. But, I’m glad your okay. 

For the most part, Tane replied. Mostly intact. 

Tane!

The Warg did not answer her. Instead, she felt a small beat of amusement as if he were making a joke. For a moment, it caught the girl unawares. She’d not known her Warg to make a funny comment. He’d been far too mild, too serious, to play any games and the sudden looseness in his attitude caused yet another smile to form upon his face. 

With the knowledge that everyone, at least most, were accounted for and well, Aria felt every ounce of her fear and horror melt away. Her eyes felt heavy as they drooped in her sense of relief. She was happy or as content as she could fathom, her body going slack in her seat upon the great bird. She lifted her gaze to observe all around her, absorbing the beauty like a flower in full sunlight. She slumped forward against the bird’s neck, nestling herself within the feathers there. It smelled of pine and soil, tickling her nostrils. She wrinkled her nose but fell into the reminiscent sensations of Earth and the mountain air she remembered inhaling while visiting them long ago. 

She immersed herself within that memory, allowing the down to tickle her cheeks as she slid her eyes shut. Fatigue twisted her muscles like a bath towel, her lungs painfully drinking in the air smelling of rain and the crisp morning. Along with this, whatever else injuries she’d retained, she could feel her core still intact. Her vessel simply faltered from pushing itself too hard, she figured she’d mend properly with rest. Would she ever receive it? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she felt every ounce of the ache, the grime, and the fatigue that crept up her spine and spread rough fingers across her shoulder blades. 

She wanted so deeply to fall into slumber there. It tantalized her like chocolate. Just beyond where she could simply touch it, she felt its call. It was a siren. It was alluring. It was far too real and too close for comfort. 

But, she couldn't. She couldn't fall asleep. Something didn't allow her. She wanted to see the beauty that passed by and drink in the scent of this new world. She knew she’d never experience such a thing in her life time. Who was to say she wouldn't be in Middle Earth for the rest of it? She wasn't certain on an answer and the thought seemed too daunting. Instead, she chose to simply rise and observe. 

She lifted her torso and braced herself for the torrent of wind to rip at her hair and sweatshirt. Her eyes roved the scene around her and widened at the visage of great, snow capped mountains flowing below them. Jagged peaks rose into the heavens, but the eagles scaled them easily. She was reminded of Earth and the great Rockies that spread through most of Colorado, New Mexico, and other states. They were breath taking and beautiful, feral and untamed like the great plains of her home state or the oceans of Earth. 

Time passed and scaling the mountains took eons it seemed. Aria eventually decided that she was far too tired to remain upright for long periods of time. Not knowing the outcome of their journey, she resorted to resting when she could. Aria faded in and out of consciousness but not for more than a minute or two. Fear of plummeting over the side of her bird caused her little rest despite sitting relative static upon its back. 

While awake, however, Aria witnessed what she would have described as the most beautiful and breathtaking landscape she’d ever seen. There were various areas on Earth that were gorgeous, but Middle Earth’s wonders dashed all of that in an instant. Minus the mountains she’d witnessed, the eagles soared over rocky plains scoured by age and erosion. Green as vibrant as the leaves of trees spread like a soft carpet between the scarred lands. Rivers meandered lazily, one eventually ending in a tumbling waterfall. The spray misted into the sky, glinting with vibrant rainbows as they passed. 

The eagles seemed to have dove a little closer to the land, dipping under the clouds to soar over even more stretches of rocks and grass. Eventually, hills dotted the scene with the same emerald hue as what they’d left behind. With the clouds clear, Aria could easily spot the rest of the eagles. From where she rode and what she could see, there were at least ten or more. Various figures dangled from their talons or straddled upon their large backs as they flew. However, that portion didn't seem to matter. What mattered was how many of the figures she’d counted. 

Thirteen. Fourteen. Plus herself. 

They were all there. The wizard, the dwarves, her Warg, and the Hobbit. Her body went slack with relief as the eagles continued to soar over more hills of green dotted with grey rocks until they broke out into a deep valley. In the center stood a pillar of stone flecked with grass and cracked with age. At the very top gleamed a flat piece of rock just big enough to deposit a plethora of bodies their size. 

As they grew closer and the eagles swirled around it, that is exactly what they did. One by one, each bird of prey deposited a bewildered and very tired dwarf upon the surface. Some eagles landed, allowing the members of the party to slide from their proud backs onto wobbly legs. Others simply planted right on their hind ends and remained there with glazed eyes and ruffled beards. Others, like Bofur and Ori, rose up as quickly as their limbs would allow to wave at their temporary mount before the eagle would lift away to join the others in the sky. 

Her bird dipped, signaling it to be her turn. It banked and hovered above the flat surface, back flapping to land softly at the edge with a slight thump. Pebbles whirled with the intense wind the eagle stirred, Aria covering her eyes as the beast released whatever it held in its talons before touching down to deposit her. It lowered itself, allowing her easier access to the stone platform. 

With a grunt, she flung her tired legs over to one side and proceeded to slide down the eagles neck and shoulder. It guided her with a wing, the gesture not going unnoticed by the girl. Her tennis shoes softly met the stone and she shakily stood upon both legs, straitening herself as best she could to assess the damage done and find the faces she’d hoped survived. 

Her back to the eagle, Aria observed the scene around her. Most of the dwarves who had simply sat upon their rears now scuttled around, eyes wide with shock and awe. There were still a few upon the stone with even more bewildered faces, the entire ordeal rendering them useless for a time.  It would take time they didn't have to accept or at least attempt to wrap their mind around it. 

A nudge from behind alerted the girl and she whirled around. Giant hazel and ambers met her green gaze with amusement and admiration. The eagle blinked, the thin film of its third eyelid glazing over the giant orbs before opening once again. Its beak shown stained with age as it tilted its head to the side to regard her. A soft breeze ruffled the feathers upon its neck. It stepped closer to her and she reached out to it. 

“Thank you,” Aria smiled at the great bird, lifting a hand to its giant beak. “Thank you for everything.” 

The eagle stayed silent for a moment, contemplating her words. Then, it bowed its head with closed eyes to accept her action of gratitude. Its beak felt smooth beneath her fingers and a shock of something shot through her arm. Anything to aid a child of the earth mother. 

The voice was light with hints of a feminine aura. Aria knew immediately that the eagle before her was female. It was spoken with confidence and purpose, almost protective in its nature. Like a mother to a chick. The voice in her head did not confuse her. Like all things she’d experienced so far, it was just another oddity of Middle Earth. Perhaps the others heard the voices as she did. Perhaps they had their own to heed. She wasn't sure. 

However, what seemed to puzzle her was not the fact that she heard yet another being inside her mind. It was what the being mentioned. 

“Excuse me?” She narrowed her eyes in confusion. “Child of who?” 

The eagle simply tilted its head, observing the girl before shaking it. You will know in time. It is not our place to explain.

Aria stood there, baffled. Without knowing what the eagle spoke of, she was left to wonder various things and have no answers to solve the puzzle. She felt herself begin to ask another question, but something stopped her. Time would tell her the answers she sought. Time was something she didn't have or had plenty of? The answers were unknown, like most things in Middle Earth. 

“What our friend means to say,” A gruff voice came from behind her. “Is that some things are not up to us to know so soon. Patience will be your best ally and everything will come into the light quick enough.” 

Aria tore her gaze from the great bird to the grey bearded wizard. Gandalf sidled up to the girl’s side with his staff, raising wrinkled hand in the same gesture as what Aria had done moments before. The eagle leaned into his touch as well, nodded at the elder before turning away to take flight. She rose into the pink sky, the sun now setting and painting it with brilliant magentas and oranges. For a fraction of a moment, Aria realized another day had passed and their flight had taken the entirety of it. 

“What did she mean?” Aria asked the wizard who looked on with her. The eagles whirled around the rocky outcropping, observing them. 

“You knew she was female?” Gandalf replied instead of answering. 

Aria turned to gaze at the elder. “Yes, I did. Did you?” 

He didn’t reply, his aged face still facing the setting sun. The light cast shadows upon his wrinkles, crows feet spreading like spiders webs from the corners of his eyes. His fingers clutched at the gnarled staff beside him, twisted wood toward the top housing a aged crystal of a sort. 

“I did.” He finally answered. “But no one else. What did she call you?” 

Aria blinked. “She called me a child of the Earth Mother. Whatever that means.” 

“It means a great deal if it is what I believe it to be, child.” The elder exclaimed. “It is nothing to shrug about.” 

“What does it mean?” 

His gaze met hers, his eyes holding more knowledge than she could ever fathom. He was ancient, far older than anyone upon the flat surface they rested in. He’d seen things, experienced pain and love and loss, all before she was even thought of. He’d walked among the greatest of his kind and the greatest of Middle Earth. He’d seen war and famine, birth and death. 

And somehow, he’d not seen anything like her before. At least, that was what Aria assumed by the gaze she was met with. 

“That is not for me to explain, Miss Jackson.” He finally sighed. “I believe you have many questions and I have yet to fully introduce myself. It seems other things have gotten in the way of that.” 

The change of subject caught the girl off guard, but she didn’t pursue the subject any further. If she were honest, she understood what the elder meant to say. She would have to wait for her answers. The subject confused her, but at that moment, a sudden tiredness quelled it all. She’d fought it off in an attempt not to fall from her feathered mount, but she had landed and the threat had been resolved for the time being. 

“You are Gandalf?” She stated, glancing into the setting sun once again. 

“That is what they call me.” He answered. “You are Aria Jackson, an unexpected guest from another world.” 

 She smiled. “Most definitely unexpected.” 

The wizard chuckled. “I find that the most unexpected things are some of the greatest. Perhaps your arrival here is that very thing.” 

She glanced at the elder, his face soft. Even if he was a stranger to her, she felt as if he could be trusted. He was a friend, and ally, and a possible mentor. She felt close to him as if she’d known him all along. She’d heard of him in a dream or in her grandmother’s story. Somehow, she knew him. 

“Aria!” A plethora of voices rang across the valley. 

The girl and the wizard both turned toward the noise, a sudden flash of a figure confusing her before she was brought down by a force she’d not seen coming. A few other figures rushed up to observe, a burble of laughter like a wave upon the sandy shores of a beach. 

Aria glanced down to see a tousle of brown hair, pointed ears, and a red tweed coat. Warmth spread through her core, her hear melting into a puddle of relief and joy at the sight of who had tackled her so suddenly. She maneuvered herself around to allow her arms to wrap around the small frame, squeezing with just the same amount of gusto as the culprit. 

“Bilbo.” She breathed, a grin spreading across her face. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you!” 

He lifted himself up, eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “I have no idea? Ballocks! I thought you were dead!” 

“We all did, Mister Baggins.” Another voice joined his. She lifted her eyes to meet the smirking gaze of Fili. “It’s good to see you in one piece, Miss Aria.” 

Kili shyly nodded behind his brother, the two cast in orange by the still setting sun. Aria began to lift herself from the ground, Bilbo moving away to allow her to do so. She stood, brushing the dirt and pebbles from her jeans, before walking up to the brothers. Her eyes roved over them, assessing there to be no injuries that she could discern. 

Then, she embraced them both at the same time. 

They didn’t fight it. They didn’t argue. They simply sank under her warmth and she to theirs. Bilbo joined in a moment after, the three sharing a breath of joy and respite after all they had been through. Aria couldn’t describe to herself or to anyone after the sense of comfort she felt in their arms. She could slightly describe it as an embrace from family, yet she’d no experience in that manner to accurately depict it as such. Still, it mattered little to her because they were alive. They were all alive. 

Except…

“Miss Aria,” Gandalf’s voice brought forth the issue in which her mind had wondered to. “I believe someone wishes to speak to you and our burglar.”

The girl broke from the trio, turning to find the wizard’s gaze set on the rest of the company. They hovered over something, or someone. She stepped away from the brothers, Bilbo joining her side, and walked slowly toward the group. 

Dwalin and Balin stooped, wrapping their arms around whatever had gripped the attention of the rest. With grunts of pain and fatigue, they lifted a heavy object up to stand. A mane of dark hair fluttered in the breeze, brilliant blue eyes swarming with various emotions pinned the duo sharply. Blood dribbled across his face, but he was alive. He was okay. 

“You two!” He barked hoarsely through clenched teeth. 

Aria’s hackles immediately rose, stamping down the joy she’d felt earlier. Her body immediately stepped in front of Bilbo as if to protect him from the wrath of the dwarf king. With the aid of the other two, Thorin stood upon wobbling legs. He carefully stepped toward them, eyes blazing with fury. Aria’s own gaze burned, narrowing at the dwarf as if to challenge his said wrath with her own. If he chose to chastise them, she would do just the same. 

“What were you thinking?” He roared again, voice echoing across the green valley. A scream from above reminded the girl of their onlookers in the sky.

“We were…” Bilbo began, but Aria halted him with her hand upon his shoulder. 

“You nearly got yourself killed!” He hissed through clenched teeth. “Didn’t I lead you to believe you two had no place among us? Didn’t I tell you, halfling, that you had no place among us?” 

His word stung as they lacerated her heart. She read the same expression within Bilbo’s, a growl forming within her throat. Her gaze narrowed even more, her fingers going to find the pendent across her neck. If Thorin dared belittle them, she would fight back in force. If she had to take on the rest of the company to defend her honor as well as Bilbo’s, she would do it over and over again. 

As she continued to glare into his eyes, however, something seemed to change within the clear blues. Anger and wrath faded into that of relief and admiration. His face softened, a small smile forming upon his lips. He began to shake his head, hair fanning across the fur of his cloak. Aria stood back, Bilbo coming to stand beside her once again. Thorin sighed, his shoulders stooping low and face falling into one of pure exhaustion. 

“I have never been so wrong in all of my life.” The dwarf king finally stated. “About both of you.” 

With that, the dwarf king closed the distance between him and Bilbo, enveloping the Hobbit in a tight hug. Bilbo stood stock still for a breath, his gaze faltering for a moment as it sought Aria’s. She quirked a brow at him, shrugging her shoulders until an amused smile crept upon her face. Bilbo followed suit, a beaming grin spreading from pointed ear to pointed ear. 

Thorin broke apart from the Hobbit, holding Bilbo at arms length to smile down at him. “I am so sorry I doubted you.” 

Bilbo chuckled. “I would have doubted me, too. I am no hero, or a warrior. I’m not even a burglar.” 

“Well,” Thorin shook his head and laughed. It was a sound Aria didn't find herself hating too much. “You are far better than you allow yourself to think, Mister Baggins.” 

Then, the dwarf king turned to her. Bilbo’s face fell away, worry taking its place as Thorin limped to stand in front of her. His blue eyes roved over her frame, possibly assessing any damage. It left her curious as to why it even mattered to him. Another thought brushed her mind. Even if she had mentally prepared herself for another argument with him, she still disliked the fact that he was much taller, much stronger, and more fueled by rage than she was. Perhaps he’d attempt to overpower her, throw her from the rock, or something worse. He didn’t like her and she knew he wouldn’t have approved of her aid. He hadn’t before. 

“You...” He breathed, a sound alarmingly void of any hatred. To her, it sounded almost like disbelief and awe and her entire thought process, her brain, went blank. “You are the biggest surprise of them all.” 

She squared her chin, ever the defiant one despite her shock. “I highly doubt that.” 

“I did.” He told her, eyes sparkling and she took a step away from him. He noticed, his entire visage going slack. “I did doubt you. Terribly and without reason. You were new, you were foreign and unlike anything I had ever seen.” 

“Of course,” She smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. Her confusion continued to rise. What was he playing at? “I’m not from here. You’d be a fool to immediately take to me.” 

“I was a fool.” His eyes softened, pleading with her. “A fool to believe I was right to hate you. I was so, so wrong, Miss Jackson. You are nothing if not strong. Like a fire you blaze bright, like a flower you still bloom no matter your ailments.”

She narrowed her gaze, hands tightening upon her arms as she hugged them to her. Despite the sensations of unease and unknowing, she couldn’t help but give him a little credit at his attempt to take back all he’d initially thought of her. She was if anything forgiving when it was properly earned. 

Then, Thorin did something she’d not ever witnessed before. Even though she’d not known him very long, she’d never seen what he did right there in front of her nor was she prepared for how it made her feel. 

He smiled. White teeth flashed in the waning sunlight, reaching his clear blue eyes. They glowed with sincerity, informing her that he meant every word. “

From here and beyond, I shall call you The Fire Flower.” He stated, “If you will accept it.” 

She stood shocked, eyes wide. Her voice bubbled at the base of her throat, but when she attempted to open her mouth, nothing came out. The shadows began to deepen around them, signifying the waning of the day, yet she couldn't speak. She didn’t think she could even if she attempted to try. She could only stare at him. 

She continued to stare at him even as he moved suddenly to lower himself slowly to the ground. He placed a knee upon the stone, taking the great sword from he’d used to slay so many of their enemy upon the mountain side. It gleamed orange, like the fire that consumed the trees before he turned the blade down and planted the tip of it into the rock. His gaze never left hers, pain riddling them as his eyes followed her face through thick lashes. Balin and Dwalin shared concerned glances, watching on with bodies ready to aid their leader at the slightest bit of discomfort. Whatever had happened to Thorin had wrecked him enough to cause for alertness. 

She couldn’t rid her mind from there after of the visage of him kneeling before her. A great dwarf, a warrior, and a king on his knees to a common girl like herself. She took another step back, Bilbo’s hand reaching out to grip her elbow. She barely felt it, however, only seeing the clear gaze of the dwarf at her feet. 

Why? Why was he kneeling in front of her as if she were royalty? Why had he given her a name other than her own? 

Why? 

Before she could answer, he took a breath. 

“I,” Thorin began, gazing deep into Aria’s forest gaze, “Thorin Oakensheild, Son of Thrain, Kind Under the Mountain, redact my comments from earlier concerning the performance of you, Miss Aria. I admit that I was sorely mistaken and hence forth until my dying day, offer myself to you for whatever aid you will be in need of.” 

She glanced around, trying to read the faces of the others. Bewilderment and awe seemed to mark most, leaving her wondering if what he dared do for her was not common for him. Dwalin’s expression broke, pure confusion written within the hard lines of his face. Balin seemed amused, a sly smile peeping from under his beard. His eyes twinkled, knowing within them. 

“E-excuse me?” She stuttered, her voice faint. “What?” 

“I,” Thorin continued, “am at your service, Miss Jackson.” 

With that, Thorin Oakenshield bowed his head atop the hilt of his sword. A cheer arose through the company. Bewildered faces fell away into that of joy and amusement. Gandalf clapped, a jaunty laugh ringing through the valley and bringing light into the souls of her comrades. Bilbo beamed at her, her own puzzled gaze causing a laugh to erupt from him as well. There arose a mighty merriment among them, infectious as it was loud. 

Thorin lifted his head, searching her eyes for her answer. All she had to do in that moment was give him a window. She was in charge of his fate and the power alone humbled her as it did him. They stared at each other for what seemed like ages, minds upon one singular thing. Various possibilities flooded her mind, showing images of what was and what could be. Even as he’d chastised her and reminded her that she did not belong with such hatred, he’d apologized. Human men wouldn’t do such a thing. Better yet, he’d bowed to her after his apology, and offered his services. If she hadn’t already figured it by then, she knew that a dwarf offering another their services was very important in their culture. All she needed to do was accept. 

They stared at each other for what seemed like ages. His eyes awaited her answer, hers seeking any form of jest or malice within his. 

Then, finally, Aria nodded. She’d granted him what he’d asked for. Her approval. 

He rose in front of her, tucking his sword back into its sheath. For a breath, he appeared to want to say something to her. Instead, a cry alerted them, bringing their gazes the the sky where the eagles still soared around them. Aria watched as the great birds said farewells in a manner only she or the wizard could transcribe. After assessing their temporary charges were accounted for, the convocation turned away and rose into the pink and periwinkle sky. Their forms faded quickly into the setting sun, orange clouds blooming in a halo around the sinking orb of fire. Before long, their silhouettes were nothing but specks against the darkening horizon. 

“Will we ever see them again?” Dori asked curiously from nearby. 

“I hope we face nothing that will require them.” Gandalf sighed. 

Aria could only nod in agreement. Her mind lay frazzled. It flipped to the horrid fire, the orcs, and the dangling dwarves who had been so close to their end hours earlier. Now, they stood beside her whole and unharmed as if nothing had happened. She knew better than to assume they did not recall the experience. She would harbor it for years, the images and pain burned into her brain like a brand. 

Bofur nudged Aria’s side, startling her. He waggled his eyebrows. “Say, do I get blessed with one of those lovely embraces from ya, lass?” 

Aria laughed, something she hadn’t done in what seemed like ages. It caused her lungs to ache, ribs creaking with the movement. Yet, she enjoyed the twinge of pain. She felt her unease wash away, the jovial cheers and merriment of the company infecting her. 

“As if.” She replied between laughs, jokingly punching him in the arm. 

“Is that what I think it is?” Bilbo’s voice brought them all to the opposite of the horizon in which the eagles had flown. 

There, untouched by anything else, stood one mountain peak. Aria didn't know the importance of such a thing nor did she understand why everyone seemed so enamored by it. As she gazed into each of the company’s faces, she saw purpose and recognition. It was Gandalf who spoke next, bringing them back to reality and the now. 

“Erebor,” He explained. “The Lonely Mountain. The last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle Earth.” 

Aria glanced at the lone peak. It didn't hold the stark white caps similar to those back home. It wasn’t flanked by much of anything. There were no trees, no other mountains, and nothing of significance. It was alone just as she had felt when she’d first arrived in Middle Earth. 

“Our home.” Thorin breathed. He spoke the words with sincerity and finality. A promise, almost. To them or to himself, he wasn't sure, but it was then that Aria knew the mountain to be their goal. The entire reason for the mission. Their journey’s end. 

Everyone nodded, eyes glistening with tears. To Aria, it was if they were all sharing one thought. A thought that meant they were one step closer. One step in the right direction with time hot on their heels. They all shared the same determination, the same passion. 

Would she go with them? It wasn't as if she could turn around and leave. They’d gone an unknown amount of miles away from where she first arrived. She had a feeling time passed differently in the mountain compared to home or even Middle Earth. She wouldn't dare turn around from the safety of the company to  seek the cave she’d entered. 

So what did that tell her? She wondered on it, knowing a piece of her still longed to be brought back to Oklahoma. She’d planned diligently on her escape only to be pulled away from the path and thrown into another one. She knew she would always long for home no matter how much it had bitten her. She’d long for the freedom she knew she would taste. In a way, she tasted it upon the rocky pillar with the dwarves surrounding her. It seemed the questions she had on her being there were of little importance to her. 

 Witnessing the expressions on each of their faces, the longing and passion, caused something in her heart to lurch into life. She understood their sudden pain, the remembrance of being usurped from a place she’d known all her life. She could comprehend the fact that Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin shared the most melancholy of gazes and perhaps remembered the days within their home the most. She’d been thrown from her home as well. She’d been thrust into a life she didn't wish upon anyone. After her grandmother’s death, it had been lonely. She’d been lonely. She’d not known what it was like to belong anywhere, a feeling she knew full well was shared with the dwarves. 

She’d been accepted by them even though the starting she found to be quite rough. She’d gained companionship in a figure she only knew to exist in her grandmother’s stories and she’d garnered others as well. She was respected now, something that had never occurred to her in all her years of life. It was for something that she had done, not others. She’d slain demons and saved some lives, made friends, and made enemies. All in the span of what seemed like hours. Others hadn’t dreamed of such a fete. 

Most of all, though, was that she was given an opportunity to help others seek something in which she had not had in years. A home. 

Who was she to not go with them? If anything, she was a fool for even thinking of turning back. 

There was no other way but forward. 

“So, child, do you wish to remain with us?” Gandalf asked. “I do believe you have the entire company at your service now. For what I do not know.” 

“A dwarf custom, I presume.” Bilbo interjected. 

“Quite right.” Gandalf chuckled. 

Aria laughed. “I have no other choice. It seems I can’t turn back. Our rides have left.” 

“Ah, yes. They do seem to have flown away, haven’t they?” Gandalf chortled. “It will be most interesting on how to get down from here.” 

“You’re tha wizard,” Gloin barked. “Don’ ya know how ta get us down from this bleedin’ rock?” 

Multiple agreements arose from the throng. Aria simply smiled. Thorin, whose eyes she caught once again with the soft gaze he’d given her earlier, seemed to agree. He stood by her side, opposite Bilbo, his heat seeming to tickle her senses with a new awareness she couldn't categorize. 

“I will figure something out, you lot.” Gandalf muttered. “Just give an old wizard some time.”

“Anywhere is better than what we had back there.” Dori exclaimed. 

“Agreed.” Bofur nodded. “Tha’ place was for the birds.” 

As if on cue, a small creature fluttered into sight. It sang a melody Aria understood as forewarning. Flashes of what was to come caused her to gasp slightly, garnering the attention from the dwarf king and the Hobbit. She stifled herself, focusing upon the tiny beast as the it danced and looped before the company. Then, it suddenly turned away and quickly flew toward the lone mountain on the horizon. Oin claimed it to be a raven, but Aria knew better. 

“It’s a thrush,” she commented. 

“Very good, Aria.” The wizard agreed. “It seems to be returning to the mountain.” 

“Well, we will take it as a sign.” Thorin leaned into Aria’s shoulder, a knowing air within his gaze. “A good omen.” 

“You’re right.” Bilbo nodded, placing a hand upon the girl’s forearm for reassurance. “I do believe the worst is behind us.” 

The wound upon the girl’s cheek twinged, and somehow, she didn’t believe him. The worst was not behind them. It wasn’t what they had left smoldering and slain upon the mountainside. It wasn’t ash or char, black blood, or fire still eating away at the pines. 

It, unlike what the Hobbit stated, had yet to come. 

Chapter Text

PART II

“A hunted man sometimes wearies of distrust and longs for friendship.”
― J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

It felt as if everything seemed alright when her arms wove themselves around her Warg’s neck. He’d been deposited by the eagle she’d ridden upon as soon as she’d been dropped off, his energy surging within her mind with excitement and relief as thick as peanut butter. She’d never imagined she’d miss someone so until she’d thought she’d lost the Hobbit and Tane. 

She’d apologized persistently to her Warg. He’d not been close to them on the rock, and given the entire ordeal she’d found herself caught up in, it had completely missed her mind that he’d been there at all. She’d missed his presence, his mind, and felt too much all at once to reach for him in that moment. However, he’d shown himself after and she’d gone to him so quickly. Gandalf had aided him, brought him back from the brink of fatigue so dark it came close to sleeping forever. 

I will never do such a thing again, Tane. She told him, tears stinging at the corner of her eyes. I am so sorry. 

All is well, Cub. His eyes sparkled, amused. You were being belittled, and then accepted, by a very belligerent dwarf king. I did not expect you to reach out. 

Now, Tane had wrapped himself protectively around the girl. She’d not left his side and he’d not left hers. His warmth lulled her toward sleep, her body so tired and so sore from their escapades. She wanted so much to sleep but felt afraid to do so for fear her companions would leave without her. Nerves had caused knots to form in her stomach, anxiety coursing through her veins. She focused upon the Warg’s breathing, using the sound to ground her and allow the chaos in her mind to reduce down to something much more manageable. 

His mind brushed hers and she inhaled the scent of his fur as his warmth flooded her from the inside. He was calming her, quelling the calamity that warred from the inside. She recalled the feelings she felt when she’d spotted him after their moment upon the rock. She’d turned to him, finding him limping toward her and she’d rushed to him so quickly that her entire body screamed. It had been worth every pinprick of pain just to embrace him again. 

The recovering company remained upon the stone outcropping for a good while. Being so far up into the sky, there were no pieces of wood to start a fire with. Thorin heeded against it, Gandalf agreeing. In the area they had arrived in, it was unknown who or what lay in the shadows down below. Gandalf seemed familiar with the area, but given who and what they’d escaped from, it had been agreed to be safer without a light to guide enemies. Even if being high up would deter them, it was understood that something would definitely try to reach the party no matter how vertical they were. 

So, in the time in which they chose to remain up upon the rock, there were given moments to recount the previous events and assess damages. A quiet din of chatter among erupted like a soft cricket song among the group. Bilbo stayed close to Aria as if he were fearful of losing her again or losing himself. Thorin stuck close as well, far closer than she would have anticipated as if an attempt make right what he’d done wrong. He avoided her Warg, however, Tane eyeing him with amusement that only Aria understood. Despite this, she could always catch his clear blues glancing in her or the Hobbit’s direction. For what reason, she was unsure but she didn't think on it too much. Other things wracked her brain in that moment. 

After the company had determined they were fine and Aria had made double sure Bilbo and Tane were alright, Aria learned that many were unharmed. The only other besides her Warg to truly have been injured had been their leader. The dwarf king had sustained various bites and cuts from rusted swords. Somehow, a rouge Warg had managed to grip the dwarf within its jaws and bite down with enough force that Aria yelped when he told the group the story. Her ribs ached just by hearing it. 

“How did you manage to get from its maw?” Bilbo asked, eyes wide. 

Thorin simply chuckled. “A blade to the eye is not fancied by much of anything.” 

Aria couldn’t have agreed more and she nodded. The action caused the dwarf king’s eyes to flicker toward her, knowing set deeply in them. It was then she understood that he’d remembered her coming for him among the smoke and haze. She ached recalling it, but felt a sense of satisfaction in knowing he’d not forgotten. 

“How did ya get out?” Dori asked, settling down beside Ori in the circle they’d formed. Aria realized Dori and Ori both had not witnessed what had occurred on the cliff side. 

Thorin’s knowing gaze shifted from Aria’s to the dwarf. A sparkle hung within the clear blues and Aria wondered if he’d refrain from speaking of the events that had occurred within the forest. If he refused to answer except for some vague reply, she would understand. She knew men, or males, like him. If a female or, on some occasions, anyone else, saved them and had proven them weak or vulnerable, they would refuse to tell that story. Thorin was strong. Not only physically but mentally as well.  It was both a burden and a blessing given the situation. 

“Well,” Thorin’s voice reached the girl just as she lifted her eyes away and out into the darkness of the night. Her hand found Tane’s fur again and she ran her fingers through it. Faint pink hues still gleamed against small clouds along the horizon. “I had help. A girl and a Warg came to find me.” 

The others all glanced at her but she didn't see with her own eyes. She felt their gazes burning upon her nape, felt Tane’s head rise to return it. Somehow, through his mind, she saw their expressions of admiration and respect. Dwalin’s surprised her the most, a glint of unshed tears gleaming in his eyes before he blinked and turned away. Balin seemed the most moved and she chalked it up to his experience prior to their unexpected adventures. They observed her with new light, a light she couldn't see but felt through the fresh air. 

A breeze buffeted the company and nipped a little at their noses right then and dragged Aria’s attention around the chasm, the sky silent except for a random bird fluttering upward and away. Echoes sounded from the hills with the calls of animals farther down the rock outcrop. Trees adorned each rising side below them, various nocturnal animals undoubtedly moving about. Aria’s thought about what creatures lived there. Were they similar to Earth’s or were they quite different? 

Her grandmother’s stories had woven quite a tale to Aria’s once young and immature mind. She’d wondered just how fantastical an imagination could have been to concoct such creatures. Some would haunt her very nightmares and keep her up into the early hours of the morning. She’d retreat into her covers for fear of something under her bed. Other creatures her grandmother spoke of were fabulous if not a bit impossible. Aria recalled the great elven kingdoms in the stories made from giant trees. Starlight would be celebrated and worshipped as the stars themselves twinkled above their heads. 

What young Aria had feared the most within her grandmother’s stories were not the goblins, trolls, or giant spiders. It was the darkness and shadow that ate away at the once beautiful land. An evil so strong infected the earth and every living thing with its seed of hatred and malice. It gripped at her heart even as she thought about it that moment, her mind immediately slamming a wall down to block the horror from her tired psyche. 

At some point, she’d separated herself from the others while Bilbo rested. She’d chosen a spot out alone to enjoy the quiet and assess the damages to her body. It creaked like old wood and burned as if she’d been thrust into a boiling cauldron. At that moment, she would have loved a nice hot bath no matter how scalding it could have been. 

Gazing at herself, she assessed that she’d sustained multiple different lacerations, bites, and a stab wound to her leg. That cut, for lack of a better term, held its own heartbeat almost and it scared her. Yet, she didn't dare lift her jeans to confirm her ideas for fear of the truth. 

You need to check those wounds, Cub. Tane’s voice was scolding, almost like a parent. He’d followed her out toward the edge and stood behind her. The others guffawed lightly beyond his shoulders and she turned to meet his teal gaze. 

Yeah, I know. But I don’t really feel like seeing how bad off I am right now. She shrugged. I’d rather sleep, if I’m being honest. 

Sleep would help heal you. Tane nodded, striding up to her shoulder to sit upon his haunches. But you will have to have the wizard look at you on the morrow. I won’t have you getting sick on my watch. 

Yes, father. She snorted. The Warg snorted again, bending down to slide his nasty tongue across her unburned cheek. 

I am not your father, he shook his face, ears flapping. But, I can protect you like one. And that would mean you are my ward and you must listen to me. 

Aria groaned as the Warg wrapped himself around her, his fur brushing against her sore body. He rested his paws near her left side, large head gazing out toward the darkening horizon along with her before he laid it upon her lap. She slowly stroked his forehead and both remained like that for moments as the pink hues slowly faded into the deep, royal blue of the night sky. Pinpricks of stars began to peep through the light, blinking like diamonds across the velvet. 

“May I intrude?” a deep voice startled her and she tentatively turned her head to meet the clear blues of Thorin. 

She blinked. “What?” 

Her confusion was apparent. She was unused to the sensation of familiarity with him. He’d been cold and judgmental toward her prior to their misadventure on the mountain. It was not familiar to her nor was it close to being comfortable that his attitude had changed so drastically. But, she sensed no animosity toward her anymore. It was as if a blanket of darkness and shadows that had been placed upon her had been lifted. She could breathe again, feel the air upon her skin. She felt as if she were wanted. Accepted. Even if the sensations of caution lingered like an aftertaste in her brain. 

Thorin chuffed. “You gaze into the horizon as if you wish to be far away.”

Tane lifted his head, pinning the dwarf king with an rigid gaze. She placed her hand upon the Warg’s shoulder, reassuring him that Thorin caused them no harm. She could hear Tane’s emotions like red, beating drums of warning. He’d noticed the demeanor of the dwarf king earlier, had heard her thoughts on his animosity toward his charge. Tane had formed his own conclusions and it seemed none of them had been positive. 

Yet, she’d told him that the dwarf king had tamed somehow. His eyes were softer, the lines of his face less taut. His whole attitude had altered dramatically since he’d accepted the fact that she’d helped him and she was to be trusted. Of course it did little to quell the uncertainty, the caution, those teal eyes of her Warg knew. He still pinned the dwarf king under his gaze, teeth ready to bare if Thorin so much as stepped a boot out of line. 

Aria sighed as her face twisted to one of contemplation. “Well, I don’t wish I was there. I guess I’m just trying to wrap my mind around everything.” 

Thorin’s gaze shifted from her to the Warg and then back again. “I understand. It seems to be quite a lot for you.” 

She wanted to ask him why he was there speaking to her as if they were old comrades. As she’d told herself countless times before, he’d not shown her a bit of kindness since she’d arrived. He’d only just apologized recently and she knew her heart still held a slight reluctance to accept what had already been done. If she were being honest, she wasn't sure if it made up for anything he’d said to her. An apology meant as much as the issuer truly meant and what the listening was willing to believe. Did he mean what he said? Was he sincere? 

“Why are you here, Thorin?” She asked him bluntly, eyes tired as they pinned him with the question. 

His cheeks seemed to redden and his eyes averted downward to his boots. He was taken aback, something the girl didn't think him capable of. Nervously, he scratched the back of his neck with a raised hand. To Aria, he seemed vulnerable and completely out of character. It reminded her of a high school boy speaking to a girl for the first time. 

Or someone righting the wrongs they’d done. 

“I-I simply wished to speak to you. To make amends.” He finally replied. 

“Didn’t you do that earlier?” 

He blinked, his arm falling to his side. She noticed his stiff movements and couldn't imagine the pain he still felt from his earlier go with upon the mountain. “Not to my liking. I believe you deserve more than a simple apology.” 

This caused the girl to pause in her annoyance. Her heart skipped within her chest, her own cheeks heating slightly. She hated the fact that her body betrayed her anger and her aggravation toward the dwarf king. She wanted to tell him to leave her alone and not worry about making any amends. 

Yet, her own heart wished to get along with everyone. Even if everyone meant the one person she hadn't fancied earlier, she yearned for the sense of companionship or comrade she didn't have back home. The others had shown her such kindness, even their estranged leader had, but it scared her to know that he could possibly change his mind and reprimand her or throw her out. 

He stepped closer, a vibration rising through her as her Warg let out a growl. She placed a hand upon his shoulder again. It stopped, the Warg rising from where he’d wrapped himself around her. He stepped away, leaving the girl in the open and allowing the dwarf a window to step closer. Thorin accepted the invitation with a nod toward Tane, lowering himself to sit a yard from her side, crisscrossing his legs and arms. 

He stayed silent, the air between them alive with slight tension. She didn't feel comfortable there but she didn’t hate it either. In a way, she felt content. Content to realize the not everything went as she figured it to be and not everyone was as she’d witnessed earlier. A book by its cover, per say. She still couldn't quell the apprehension toward the dwarf, though, and caution settled within her soul like a stone at the bottom of a pool. She would remove it if proven unneeded. For now, though, she knew she had to feel him out. To understand his sudden change in demeanor. 

She heard the others laughing behind her quietly and she turned to look at them over her shoulder. A circle of dwarves resided in the center of the rock, their faces jovial and smiles abundant. They joked and sang songs she didn't know, the lyrics in a tongue that was not her own. Yet, she found herself enjoying the simple melody that reminded her of joy and happiness. They were relieved of being free from the darkness they had left in their wake. They were joyous of the fact that they were no longer within the shadow of the mountain surrounded by the dripping fangs of both orc and Warg. 

Aria couldn’t help but smirk. She, too, felt that relief. She’d not known the horrors they’d witnessed prior to her arrival. To her, it was only as terrifying as what she’d been through on her own. The aches and pains she felt were tragic, sure, but it felt nothing like what she truly knew the others to have witnessed. They’d suffered on their own and their jovial banter was the reward for such a fete. 

She sighed, turning back toward the horizon. “I guess I am just trying to absorb what I’ve been through and what I’ve seen. This entire world is much different than mine and I just don’t know what to do with it all.” 

Thorin hummed as if in agreement but didn't speak. They shared another moment of silence, listening to the quiet chortle of the others. Bilbo seemed to have found a joke of Bofur’s rather amusing, his laughter a chatter among the other deep baritones. The rest had completed their singing, whispers of stories filtering through the growing chill of the night air. She wondered again on what they’d experienced before. She’d only known there to be a prior adventure from her grandmother’s stories. Yet, she’d not know the details or couldn’t remember them. 

Bofur let out a cheerful guffaw and Aria whipped her head to him. The dwarf immediately clapped his hands over his mouth. Aria couldn't help but let one of her own slip. Thorin’s eyes met hers and she his. For a moment, mirth seemed to swell within them. 

“Yes, this world is odd and may seem too much to bare all at once.” Thorin replied. “But it doesn’t mean you have to bare that alone. Our group may not be the most noble, but they are loyal.” 

She laughed. “I know. They are a crazy bunch, but they would go to the ends of the earth for you.” 

“And you.” Thorin countered. She blinked, but the truth lay within his clear blue eyes. “You have shown great courage among them, saved my life, and saved theirs. That is much more than mere heroism. It’s something that will be forever spoken about in our tomes and legends. Something that shows you are far greater than what you believe yourself to be.” 

She snorted. “What I did back there? No way.” 

Thorin’s eyes smirked, one playing at the edge of his lips. “I do not lie, Miss Jackson. Not about that, at least.” 

“Well, I’ve got you fooled. I’m just a simple girl from Earth. Nothing unexpected or heroic has ever happened to me.” She stated. “Not until now, I should say.” 

They fell into silence once again. This time, however, it felt much more comfortable than it had earlier. Somehow, she read the sensation to be as if they’d shared a joke between themselves. A play with words or a flirtation. Somehow, he was less of an oddity than he’d been before and it puzzled her. 

He had told her she was far greater than a hero to his comrades. She wasn't sure what it meant, but she knew that he wouldn't speak of it unless it were true. She didn't know much about the dwarven customs and she knew little about what they considered to be heroic or not. But, she understood that having their king bow to an outsider was nothing to shake a stick at and neither was it anything to considered something to be humble about. She was, for a lack of a better term, revered among them and it gave her what she really needed in that moment. 

To belong. 

She blinked at the horizon, a slight sting pricking at the corners. The stars above began to twinkle like diamonds upon black velvet, gleaming silver. Its spilled upon everything, bathing the hills with brilliant light. It reminded her so much of home in that moment even though she knew full well it was not. She recalled very distantly how she loved the full moon and its silver touch. She loved when it blanketed a floor of ice making it gleam and shine like bits of glitter upon a dance floor. She also loved how it would cast the freshly fallen powder of snow with a blue hue, igniting the land with an aura of aqua and white. It would light her way when she trekked out into the woods by her grandmother’s and she knew she could always find her way back home. 

“What happened before the goblin caves?” She blurted, her mind going to the questions she had earlier. 

“How did you know there was a time before?” Thorin asked, glancing at her again. 

She smiled, a bit of it slightly coy. Knowing. “I just do. Could you tell me what happened?” 

Thorin sighed. “I…” 

“We saw quite a bit, Miss Jackson.” A voice met their ears. Aria glanced up to find the others had joined them. Tane stood back, teal eyes glinting green in the moonlight. Bofur, who had been the one to speak, stood with his arms crossed and his eyebrows wagging flirtatiously. “Would you like to hear the story? I could tell it all to you.” 

She swore she heard Tane growl, or was it Thorin behind her? She wasn’t entirely sure. All she understood then was the jovial, albeit leering, expression upon Bofur’s face suddenly fell away and he nodded stiffly. Turning quickly, him and the others skittered away casting uncertain glances over their cloth clad shoulders. Perhaps their leader didn't approve of the sudden intrusion or, perhaps, Tane spooked them enough to cause a stir. Both seemed preposterous but the former more so. 

After the others had vacated the area, Aria turned her attention to Thorin, she noticed the glint in his eyes as he righted himself and focused upon her. She gave him a look where one would read to continue their story. His clear blue’s 

“We began in the Shire,” Thorin explained. “I was unsure of the entire ordeal, but Gandalf promised me…” 

For the span of what seemed like hours, she listened to Thorin explain the entire first bit of their journey. They had arrived at Bilbo’s hole in the ground, but as Thorin has explained, it was not a dark and dreary hole. It had actually been very cozy and warm given the fact that the air by that time had begun to cool. From there, they’d gone through a contract in which Bilbo had to sign in order to join the company. It was at that time that said Hobbit sauntered up with a smile upon his face to join their discussion. Thorin said nothing, pausing in his tale to allow the Hobbit situate himself near Aria. Aria prepared herself to tell the dwarf king otherwise if he’d told the Hobbit to turn away and leave them be. 

“I recall perusing the contract,” Bilbo told them as soon as he’d sat down. “And it mentioned funeral terms. Dying due to lacerations and incinerations. Can you believe that?” 

“But it did not keep you from running out of your hole and after us, did it?” Bofur called from where him and the others had scooted closer. Aria swore to herself they’d been much farther a few moments ago. “Mister Baggins ran as fast as he could to find us, the signed contract trailing behind him.” 

Aria smiled at the Hobbit, knowing it to be just like him to do such a thing. It seemed as if she’d known him all her life. They shared a connection but what kind she wasn’t sure. She knew enough to comprehend the fact that they were almost similar. As she was with Tane, she could predict what the Hobbit was capable of doing. He was far stronger than what the others predicted him to be and much, much braver. 

“You’re not wrong.” Bilbo smirked. “But, I do remember a bet that I wouldn’t join you all. I could not tell you how much coin had been passed between all who bet against me coming.” 

“I beg your pardon,” Dori exclaimed, coming up to join them. Thorin attempted to growl, but Aria pinned him with a gaze and he stopped. “It was merely a means to prompt you to come. They say if you think it, it will come true.” 

Bilbo’s eyes met Aria’s and he rolled them. She giggled as a few more of the company approached, leery of their leader until they noticed Dori had joined. From there, they simply sat down and listened into the conversation. Bilbo continued his tale with the occasional insert from Bofur who had decided he feared his leader little compared to the joy he felt among the group. 

From there, Aria contented herself in listening to the other sides of the same story. Bombur told them of the hobbit hole and the various foods Bilbo had held in his stores. Bilbo with a frustrated expression seemed to quiet himself during that bit. It appeared to Aria the raid of his food pantry was still a sore subject even as the dwarves informed her they’d apologized ten-fold for eating all of his food. 

After their initial nights, the story arrived at the Trollshaws. This portion of the tale she’d heard from her grandmother and even though she wished to predict what would happen, she kept her mouth closed. 

“Mister Baggins had just given us our bowls of food when…” Fili began, eyes dramatically wide as he held his hands out toward them. “We noticed some of the ponies were missing. We weren’t aware of the trolls that lurked in the shadows. It was Bilbo who went after our ponies.” 

Bilbo shooed at the fair haired dwarf, cheeks pink. “Well it was you two who volunteered me. They practically shoved me toward their camp.” 

Aria pinned the brothers with a look of disbelief coupled with the protective glare associated with mothers and their young. The two recoiled, eyes wide with the slight inklings of fear. However, the bounced back with a retort. 

“Now,” Fili held his hands out defensively. “We didn’t abandon Mister Baggins.” 

“No,” Kili contested shyly. “We simply let him go first to scope the place out. Mister Boggins had it handled.” 

“Bollocks!” Bilbo cried with a smirk on his face. “You left me to them like a lamb to a wolf pack you did!” 

“Yet, you made it out just fine.” Thorin snorted. 

“Fine enough to stall for time, Master Thorin.” The booming voice of Gandalf wafted through their ranks like the chill of the breeze. “Enough for them to turn to stone.” 

“Stone?” Aria chimed, eyes widening. 

“That’s right, Miss Jackson.” The wizard sat among them, staff nestled between his arms. “It appears Stone Trolls are very allergic to sunlight.” 

She could never have imagined such a thing in all of her existence and her grandmother’s story failed to mention this. At least, the portion in which the trolls were turned to stone. Never in her wildest dreams could she ever imagine experiencing trolls, goblins, or giant eagles nor did she ever picture herself anywhere but in Oklahoma.

However, as her eyes roved around the company, she knew she wasn't in a dream. Even as she’d seen the beauty of Middle Earth with its ragged mountains and luscious, rolling hills of emerald, she knew the darkness that resided where eyes couldn’t see. Deep in the shadows where slimy things crept and watched those able to trek in the sun. Deeper still where things with dead eyes and a vicious temper that lurked for unsuspecting victims to riddle with. Those were not things of dreams but nightmares she couldn't fathom. 

Somehow, she felt as if Bilbo had seen something such as that. Something in the shadows that lurked. The sunlight would have been a stranger to the creature, as her grandmother’s stories had told. The very thought of such a thing so horrid and decrepit made Aria shudder. Bilbo seemed to noticed, placing a hand upon her forearm. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, his brown eyes worried. 

She gave him a slight smile. “Yeah. Just thinking about the goblin tunnels.” 

Bilbo nodded. “Yes. They were very horrible, indeed.” 

She quirked her brow as the Hobbit’s eyes distanced themselves. His fingers twiddled with a pocket at the front of his vest. Buttons had been ripped, Aria’s eyes narrowing at the realization that he’d been through something one could only describe as tortuous. He’d lost his buttons in a hurry, no one would ever choose to rip them from their coat or jacket. Bilbo seemed very proper and losing something like that by choice was not something she associated with him. 

Aria rose, bidding to the others that she would be back to sit among them again, and asked Bilbo to step away. He followed, wonder in his eyes. When they were out of earshot from the company, she turned to him and gave him a knowing smile. 

“What did you experience in the goblin tunnels?” She asked him. “Your buttons are gone and you seemed distance. What have you seen?” 

Bilbo’s face fell, eyes filling with a type of terror she had never witnessed in another being. She had felt such terror and knew it only because she had experienced trauma that caused it. She could only imagine what would cause such horror to be written on a once smiling face. It caused her heart to lurch and visualize the carnage of her escapade through the death pit. Was his encounter similar? 

“Would you believe me if I told you the story?” He asked, eyes down to his hairy toes. He shuffled, immensely uncomfortable and Aria felt the overwhelming sensation to reach out and comfort him. 

For the moment, she simply nodded. “Of course. Would you believe me if I shared mine as well?” 

He glanced up into her eyes, the deep set colors there reading thick with sincerity. “I would never doubt you, Miss Aria. You have proven to be one of my closest comrades.” 

“Likewise, Bilbo.” She smiled. “Now, what happened?” 

Bilbo indicated that he wished to sit and she followed. They both seated themselves facing away from where the sun had set earlier. The sky was dark, the stars twinkling and winking at them from above. She couldn't imagine how far they were nor how bright they actually appeared. She’d known country living long ago but had since forgotten how beautiful and quiet the area could be. 

Bilbo’s tale began when he fell from the path. After she’d lost him. He’d plunged head over foot into darkness accompanied only by the reason he’d fallen in the first place. The goblin had fought him once he’d landed in the dark pit. Unlike Aria’s arrival, Bilbo’s had been rocky, the Hobbit showing some of the bruises on his arms. 

However, it hadn't stopped there. Something had lurked within the void. Something harboring its own evil, tortured soul. Aria felt the hair rise at the base of her nape, gooseflesh forming upon her arms. She knew. She could picture this wisps of limp locks swaying upon a bald head, a smile forming to show misshapen teeth rotted by the lack of care. Pale, translucent skin clung to a skeletal frame and too large eyes used to the horrid dark shown with an in-human glow through the gloom like a flame in the shadows. 

“Whatever it was,” Bilbo shuddered. “It, he, was not one but two somehow. There were time when I wasn’t sure which being I spoke to.”

Aria narrowed her eyes. Scientifically, she could label the creature’s behavior as a type of psychological disorder. A behavioral issue that placed people who exhibited it within the confines of a place built just for them. Something medical and sanitary. Horrifying. 

“It was the oddest thing,” Bilbo continued. “He liked riddles and challenged me to a game of it.” 

“Riddles?” Aria wasn't sure what felt worse. A game of riddles or having them with some dark creature in even darker caverns. “That sounds horrid.” 

“A game of riddles?” Gandalf approached, staff clacking against the stone. “Do tell us about this ‘game’ you played with this creature.” 

The others had followed, Aria huffing at the thought of even trying to dissuade them from joining. Bilbo didn't mind, it seemed, even though she wished to have spoken to Bilbo alone about his experiences. She knew he felt off about what he’d seen despite the stories Thorin had told of their journey before. 

Bilbo glanced at Aria, but she could only give him a look of losing control. “Well…” 

Bilbo dove in to his tale again, this time with slight hesitation. she felt for him in that moment but couldn’t stop it. The others were too involved, too interested. To shoo them away would just reiterate the fact that the Hobbit was hiding something. She didnt want too much attention to be brought to that. 

 He riddled with the creature for what seemed like eons down in the tunnels. It knew the way out, it said, and made a bet with the Hobbit on whether to eat him or show him the exit. She pictured them warring with their wits and wondered if a creature such as he described actually held any. In detail, Bilbo told them of the questions Gollum, the creature, had offered. There were some she wouldn’t have been able to figure out. She wasnt gifted in the art of answering anything that twisted words. It proved that she hadn’t been the only one perplexed, her eyes roving over the company’s perplexed faces. 

“Then,” Bilbo’s eyes went wide. Deep within them, Aria noticed, was a knowing air. He was hiding something. “I asked the foul creature what I had in my pocket.” 

“Wha did ya ‘ave in yer pocket?” Gloin asked, interest clearly within his own gaze. 

The knowing expression passed again within Bilbo’s eyes, causing a moment of disruption within Aria. He knew exactly what he held in his pocket, but no one else could know. It was secret. It was a treasure. 

It was precious. 

“N…nothing important. Some fancy rock I found.” Bilbo stammered, a nervous smile creeping across his face. “The thing would not have known that.” 

“Did it attack you?” Aria’s tone was filled with a warning. She would know if he lied. 

Bilbo, for whatever reason she wasn't sure, understood this. He nodded sharply, his eyes casting themselves down upon his hairy feet. “Yes. It tried. But I had an advantage.” 

They leaned in, intrigued by his story. Breaths passed as they waited for his answer. For what was next. Aria, too, felt the tug of anticipation and the urge to know what actually happened. Something skewed her thought process, however. Knowing the Hobbit for a short time, she felt an almost unearthly understanding of him. He was almost like a little brother and she felt protective of him and understood him to a point in which she could call his bluff.  There were deeper meanings to his words, hidden stories within the façade of the one he was telling them. She had done similar things before and knew the action like a sibling. 

Something else happened in those caves. Something dark and something that would change the course of their history for ages to come. Perhaps not her history, but history of ones close to her. 

“What was your advantage, Master Baggins?” Gandalf’s voice echoed similar understanding. Knowledge and doubt. 

The pause was far too loud. Far too suspicious. 

“I was f-far too quick for it.” Bilbo stuttered. “I knocked him askew with my sword and ran for it. Simple as that.” 

“How did ya know tha way?” Gloin’s beard waggled with anticipation. 

Bilbo shrugged, whether it had been for himself as a nervous habit or simply because he was done with his lie, and smirked. “The foolish creature went toward the exit as I slipped behind him and watched.” 

The air erupted with various questions after Bilbo’s last statement. Aria winced, her thoughts muddled by the knowledge that her comrade was not being truthful. However, as much as it bothered her that he was capable of doing such a thing, for some reason it felt to be more complicated than that. Somehow, Bilbo’s fibs were white and being done so for the betterment of the company. Something in his experiences did not bode to be revealed to the others nor was it wise to explain any further. 

“I believe him.” She finally stated, quelling the din of dwarf voices suddenly. “I had to do something similar but honestly, I wasn’t a big fan of explaining it. It was not pretty. Lets leave it at that.” 

The company nodded, their questions withheld for another time. Thorin’s crystal blue gaze met Aria’s greens for a moment, a nod of understanding passing between them before he turned away. Bilbo outwardly deflated, shoulders sagging while observing the others as they meandered away and began speaking of other things. 

“Thank you.” He stated, a small smile forming on his lips as she strode to his side. 

“What actually happened, Bilbo?” She pinned him with a stare, his eyes widening nervously. “I know you’re lying.” 

Bilbo seemed to recoil slightly, but she placed a hand on his shoulder. Her touched seemed to inform him that he was not, in fact, in trouble. However, it also indicated that he was discovered in his fib. He sighed and shook his head, scratching his smooth chin as if assessing what he could tell her. A squeeze to his shoulder informed him that he should tell everything. 

And he did. Beneath whispers and pauses while the two watched carefully for the others approach, Aria found out the entirety of Bilbo’s story. Shockingly, his retelling to the others was drastically dull compared to what actually happened. Bilbo had fought and fallen, found the creature Gollum but also something far more different that he’d held within his pocket. For a moment, Bilbo took it out to show the girl and she felt something tug upon her soul. Something wrong. 

“I’m not sure what it is,” Bilbo stated quietly. “But I do know the creature lost his wits knowing I had it. It makes me invisible, Miss Aria.” 

“Something tells me its not good to slip that thing on your finger.” She whispered. “I don’t like it one bit.” 

If she were honest with herself, she hated the tiny ring. The circle of gold gleamed almost supernaturally in the Hobbit’s cupped hand. Sensations of darkness as deep as the most evil of things attempted to touch her core, to pull to her even as her comrade placed the trinket back into the pocket of his vest. She heard voices ever so faint within her ears, her mind. She knew the language, the white orc had spoken it to her. It felt nasty, vulgar. Wrong. 

“It’s best to keep that thing hidden, Bilbo.” Aria told him, her face saturated with worry. 

“I know.” He told her, eyes downcast. “I can feel it calling to me. Its so dark and far older than what we believe it to be.” 

Aria nodded, her eyes lifting to rove the rock top and assess the location of everyone. She sought prying eyes, ears turned toward them to drop eves. No one seemed to care, conversing and laughing among themselves. Tane’s ears perked toward her as he lifted himself from the laying position he’d been in. Smiling, Aria reached out a hand to meet her Warg’s muzzle. 

“I think its time we rest.” She stated, turning toward Bilbo. “We both deserve it.” 

“I cannot agree more.” He nodded. 

Gandalf tapped his staff against the stone platform, capturing everyone’s attention. Aria’s gaze fluttered across all faces before resting upon the elder’s. A slight breeze caused the tendrils of her muddied hair to flit against her cheeks, a shiver racing down her spine. 

“Thorin and company,” Gandalf announced quietly to the group. Every head turned toward him. “Let us rest tonight. It is much deserved. On the morrow, we will descend this rock and continue our journey.” 

Voices of agreement flowed like a wave across the group. 

“Where will we go from here, Gandalf?” Balin asked. 

Gandalf nodded, a smile causing his beard to twitch. “This rocky outcrop is known as the Carrock and below us, although you cannot see, is the River Anduin. From here, we will enter a place that I cannot grant safe passage or speak in favor of.” 

“Tha’…” Bofur attempted to interject but Thorin pinned him with a gaze. 

“Gandalf,” Thorin’s voice trailed over the rest of them. Demanding. Inquisitive. “What lies beyond this river?” 

 “A bit of awkward country, I’m afraid.” Gandalf stated and that seemed to end the conversation. 

Aria turned away from the group, her Warg meeting her near a section of edge not occupied by anyone else. He curled there, head raised and awaiting her. Even if she knew the other portions of their journey to come were unknown, she couldn’t help but suddenly feel the wracking fatigue crash into her. The slight nap and unconsciousness she’d experienced while in flight with the eagles had done little to help. The weariness had sunk into her bones and hibernated there until she was able to actually rid herself of it with rest. She hoped against hope that this night’s sleep would do some sort of damage to the heavy blanket of fatigue that seemed to stick to her. 

She glanced at Bilbo, mind feeling slight guilt at the fact that he had to resort to rolling up his jacket and stay out in the cold. The dwarves she could understand as beings more hardy than herself or the Hobbit. She pictured him huddled within his home by a roaring fire smoking a pipe and warm. He was, in every sense of the word, that and for some reason she couldn’t live with herself if she allowed the cold to bite him. 

“Bilbo,” She inquired. “Do you want to be near us?” 

“I’m quite alright, Miss Aria.” Bilbo stated, patting his jacket rolled loosely into a makeshift pillow. 

He can stay over there for all I care, Tane snorted, laying his giant head upon his paws. For some reason, his tone was far more protective than he’d shown earlier. 

You let him ride on your back, Tane, Aria quipped. Why does it matter? 

Tane grumbled, the vibration tickling her temple. She could almost hear him mill through his thoughts. There were various things the Warg would allow and she wasn’t sure why on Earth he’d chosen to be particular about Bilbo’s nearness. He’d let the Hobbit ride him through their ordeal on the mountain. She didn’t see an issue with a Hobbit curling up with them.  Aria couldn't let Bilbo freeze. 

Then, the Warg snorted and it was her cue that he’d agreed. 

“Bilbo,” Aria called. 

The Hobbit lifted himself from the ground, eyes wide and expectant. “Yes?” 

“Get over here and cuddle with my Warg.” She smiled, waving him over. 

His face read confusion for a moment, but right as she felt him about to protest, a chill breeze shot through the rock top campsite. Bilbo shivered, using his hands to rub at his upper arms vigorously. His curly hair ruffled about his forehead, puffs of steam exiting his nostrils like smoke. He glanced out where the horizon line stretched as if expecting another wind, then met her gaze. 

“Alright, Miss Aria.” He finally replied, grabbing his jacket and striding toward them. “I’ll ‘cuddle’ your wolf.” 

 Aria swore she heard Tane gag. 

Chapter Text

“You will soon be well, if I do not talk you to death.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

The warmth of the sun greeted her as she opened her eyes to its brilliance. Darkness had not plagued her dreams that night nor did shadows attempt to steal her peace. She slept deeply, awakening far more rested than she had done back in Oklahoma. However, she’d forgotten one thing that she should have known before falling asleep. 

How sore she was going to be. 

As she lifted herself to meet the sun, she felt every fiber of her being protest fiercely. Her bones ached, muscles screaming while she attempted to lift her arms over her head in a long stretch. Her spine crackled like wrapping paper underfoot and she groaned. Tane seemed to feel the same, the wolf lifting his head stiffly. She could almost feel the phantom sensations of his pain radiate throughout her own body, her hands reaching for his fur. He melted into her touch, his mind sweeping with hers. It was then that she could feel everything and even his own disregard for the soreness seemed to settle within her brain. 

You cant ignore it, Tane. You’re still going to feel it. She told him, stroking his forehead. 

Yes, but I’ve been like this before. It is nothing. He replied, sighing. I’ve grown used to this. 

Aria narrowed her eyes at her Warg, hating how the statement settled on her heart like a blanket of thorns. You are used to it? 

Tane’s ears lowered, eyes casting down at his paws. For a moment, she was afraid he would not reply. She could see the storm within his teal eyes, the moments of his past he relived right then and there. Were they horrid? Were they peaceful? From what she could garner, she doubted the latter. 

I have lived a long time, Cub, He finally answered her. I have seen many battles. I am tired. 

She thought about his history and what he had seen again. His eyes read pain, heartache, and other emotions she could barely fathom. She didnt want to think of him in that way knowing it would shatter the light hearted aura she’d already given him. In a sense, she understood him already to be a powerful warrior for his kind. She knew he could slaughter enemies and rip them apart with his jaws. Yet, she’d seen his kindness and his worry. She couldn’t place the two wargs together and assume them to be the same one yet she knew it to be so. She’d seen him in action and denying it was not possible. 

Aria simply nodded, rubbing her hands through the fur of his forehead. He closed his gaze to her, leaning into her touch. It was then that Aria vowed to herself, and to him, that she would never allow him to fall. She would never allow him to fight against his will and she would never let harm come to him. 

I owe you my life on more than one occasion, She told him. I will protect you with mine if the need arises, my friend. 

His widened teals turned to her and he made to protest. She cut him off with a sharp look, making his ears flatten. She smiled and she could see the sparkle return to his eyes. Wrapping her arms around his thick neck, she allowed a few moments of peace with one of her closest allies and friends in the new world. The scent of his fur tickled her nostrils and she let her lids close to the peace it brought.

They remained like this for a moment until a hobbit stirred at her side. She’d almost forgotten he was there, startling at the sudden groan of pain emitting from the tiny creature. She snorted, knowing exactly the cause of such a mewl. He rose slowly, hair wild and eyes hooded and Aria couldn't help curb a giggle at the sight of the other closest ally and friend. 

“Valar curse me,” Bilbo grumbled. “I did not expect to feel this horrible as soon as I woke up.” 

Aria had agreed, the smile upon her face forming into a grin. “Well, that’s what we get for fighting for our life, I guess.”

The Hobbit nodded dully, “This beats all that came before, that is for certain.” 

Aria lifted her gaze toward the other heaps of leather and brown cloth that formed the dwarves and smiled to see most of them had not rose to meet the sun either. The only members to have been awake even before her were Gandalf and Thorin. Each sat at opposite ends of their rocky-top respite and both seemed to be gazing out toward a far off horizon or something much more distant. 

She rose steadily, quelling the worried swell of emotion from her canine guardian. She informed him of her need to just stand and walk for a bit to get rid of the aches and stiffness running rampant through her sore body. The sun had risen farther up into the pale blue sky, casting buttery light upon either forms staring off into the beyond. She wasnt sure then if she wished to talk to either, but found she had more questions for the tall wizard seated to her left. He puffed his pipe thoughtfully, wisps of the white smoke forming rings and floating up and away until they faded. 

“I can almost feel your questions even before you ask them, my dear.” Came the deep voice of Gandalf as she blinked at him. 

Heat rose in her cheeks and she cast her gaze downward. “I was debating on even asking them of you. I know you have lots on your mind.” 

The wizard turned toward her, long stemmed pipe of wood clutched between his teeth. His beard waggled as he lifted an arm to grip it and take it from his lips. His eyes, deep and knowing, regarded her softly as a father would regard a child. For a moment, her heart reached for him and his wisdom as if he were her grandfather. She’d never known either of them if she’d had two. There were times in which she’d wanted to meet the one who had been married to her grandmother. He’d been a magical, almost mythical being in her grandmother’s stories and Aria wished she’d had known him. 

“I can do my best in answering anything you ask.” The wizard replied with a small smile. It reached his eyes, twinkling there as the crows feet formed webs away from the corners. 

As if drawn by something, Aria turned on her heel and walked steadily toward him. He offered her a seat beside his and she lowered herself to the rocky surface. Gandalf was facing the path in which they still had to go it seemed. Aria could sense the terrain to be unexplored and wild. She felt her heart clench at the thought of yet another round of fighting for her life, but also couldnt spurn the sensation of excitement at the prospect of discovering pieces of this new land. 

“Did you sleep well, Miss Aria?” Gandalf’s gaze followed hers and out into the beyond. 

She shrugged. “I guess. As good as I could given that I hadn’t gotten any since yesterday or before.” 

The wizard nodded with understanding. “You had left one situation for another, I take it?” 

Aria inclined her head at the statement, unable to reply for the sheer fact that she’d not realized just how far away Oklahoma felt. Instead of a matter of hours, it almost felt like years. She was not used to the new country called Middle Earth, but she was not a stranger to it either. She’d been there long enough to know it was a far more dangerous place than her home and had heard the stories from her grandmother for years before. Instead of feeling fearful, she felt one with it as if it had always been a part of her. 

“Yes.” She finally stated, blinking the sting of tears back as best she could. “I really don’t know how it happened. That’s one of my questions, I guess. Why am I here?” 

Gandalf laughed. It was a small, wispy sound but one Aria didnt mind. “That, my dear, is a very difficult one. I did not doubt you would ask that one first.” 

“Is that a compliment or is that supposed to tell me to ask another one?” 

He laughed, then. A mirthful, joyful sound even though portions of it seemed to be heavy with a bit of age and sadness. 

“Your question,” He stated as he quelled himself. “It will take some time and it will definitely not be answered by me, I’m afraid. You have to seek that solution from another.” 

“Who?” Her gaze shifted to the wizard and he shrugged. 

“That I do not know, either.” 

She glanced back at the terrain ahead and how the lone mountain stood so far beyond their reach. It was a daunting distance and something she’d never thought to cross on foot. She missed cars then, wishing to have some sort of faster mode of transportation. She thought of the great birds of prey they’d ridden on to the rock, pondering on how they knew the company to be in great despair and why they’d aided her and her friends. 

“It is quite a ways, isn’t it?” Gandalf mused, taking a long drag from his pipe. 

“How far do you think?” Aria wondered aloud, blinking against the brightening sun. 

Gandalf thought a moment and Aria listened to the bird song and the roar of something far in the distance. Aria glanced down to find the glint of something, understanding it to be the rushing waters of the River Anduin. White foam surged among dark rocks as the clear water flowed and tumbled from them. Toward either horizon stretched the river, a great stretch of green extending forward toward the mountain. She swore, within the early morning haze, she might have seen a plume of smoke and the tops of trees. 

“It will be a long journey still, no matter how many figures you put with it.” Gandalf replied thoughtfully. “I do know the territory below will be treacherous. We must figure out a way to cross the river first and from there, find our host’s abode. Then, we must find a way into the wood.” 

“Who is our host?” Aria’s eyebrow quirked. 

Gandalf pondered. “He’s a very…cantankerous being. He’s not one to favor dwarves much.” 

“That might be a problem,” Aria snorted, even though concern seemed to grip her heart then. “We have a bunch of them in tow.” 

By this time, the company had stirred themselves awake, resting on crossed legs as they attempted to gather their wits from their slumber. Grunts and groans sounded behind the pair as they spoke and Aria turned to see them over her shoulder. Their sleepy faces turned toward the wizard and the girl. Thorin, who had been awake before his company, met Aria’s gaze with a hint of amusement. They shared a silent laugh, knowing all too well what they’d both been through but understanding the need for rest. 

“It seems we will have to discuss this subject on the road, Miss Jackson.” Gandalf grunted as he stood and she followed. 

Thorin, who had long since begun to speak with his peers, lifted his eyes again to the girl and nodded. He strode over after dismissing himself from a conversation with Bofur, clear blues glittering as she met him half way. The sun bathed the area in golden light, warming their bones as she gave the leader of the company a small smile. 

“Good morrow,” He greeted her with a smiled that seemed to reach her eyes. 

“Good morning to you, too.” She replied, narrowing her eyes at him as if trying to read his expression. His sudden change in demeanor still left an odd taste in her mouth. She’d yet to figure the dwarf king out, the thought alone seeming to daunt the girl. “Did you all get much rest?” 

His eyes roved across the fumbling company, more vigor entering their limbs and faces as they continued to shake the sleep from their minds. “I believe so, Miss Jackson. And you?” 

“Way more than I thought I was going to.” She shrugged. “I guess we will be heading out shortly.” 

His gaze shifted to her once again. “My concern is how we are going to cross the river unscathed.” 

Gandalf approached them, his robes shuffling about his lean frame. “That is a very good question, Master Thorin. It’s quite simple.” 

They both stood there as the wizard paused, sharing confused glances when the elder did not elaborate on his statement. He stood for a long while, puffing on his pipe and eyes reaching far away again. They were troubled almost and she pondered upon the reasoning behind such lengths. 

“Gandalf?” Bilbo’s befuddled voice reached the trio and Aria turned to find him at her side, eyes still heavy with sleep but hair less messy. “How do we cross the river?” 

The wizard nodded, glancing between the entire party and the two beside him. “Right. Right. First, we must descend the steps and get to the bottom.” 

“Well, thas’ obvious innit?” Gloin barked with a smirk, red mane gleaming like fire in the sunlight. 

“Did you know there to be stairs located on this Carrock, Master Gloin?” Gandalf crossed his arms over his chest, pipe held between the fingers of one hand. 

“Well, no…” He stammered, eyes averting elsewhere besides the wizard. 

“Then let me conduct this meeting.” 

Gloin nodded firmly, shrinking into himself. Aria blinked, her gaze lifting to Thorin’s. He seemed to have noticed the offense, offering a reassuring glance before moving toward his comrade. It seemed, to the girl, that Gloin had a knack for speaking out of turn. 

Gandalf turned to the group, acquiring his staff from beside him before speaking. 

“Now that you all are awake,” His eyes shifted toward Fili and Kili as they attempted to suppress their yawns. “I will update you on what our next plan may be.” 

There were unimpressed looks between some of the crew, others leaning forward with anticipation. Aria, herself, found the next steps somewhat daunting. She could hear the roaring river below them slightly, not knowing how high they were having caused her stomach to somersault within her. No matter how high or how low, the main challenge she could see ahead was to cross water below. 

“As I mentioned last night,” Gandalf continued, “We will descend the Carrock using the steps and reach a ford below. The water should be shallow enough to rinse ourselves of the nastiness we have collected in our untimely battle.” 

“What shall we do after that, sir?” Balin asked, eyes sparkling with intrigue if not a slight bit of dread. 

“From there, Master Balin,” Gandalf nodded, “we shall cross at the ford and enter the land of our future host.” 

“The one you mentioned earlier?” Aria cocked her head, sure that everyone had heard him speak of it.

Gandalf paused, nostrils flaring with an inaudible sigh. He looked tired, deep lines forming at the corners of his eyes. There were signs of wear there, decades or more of battles fought and dangers untold. He held secrets far greater than her comprehension. She thought she knew the world back home. She’d been through so much at such a young age. This man, this wizard, knew the world before it had seen its darkest times. He’d witnessed its birth, its rise, its fall, and possibly its rebirth. He knew most, if not everything there was about things. 

“Well,” Gandalf inclined his head. “That will come later. He is not the most…accommodating being and we might find him slightly hesitant. That will be up to me to smooth over.” 

“Not the most accomodatin’?” Gloin protested, clearly forgetting his earlier folly. “Wha’ is tha’ supposed to mean?” 

Gandalf’s eyes reflected a warning within them as he locked his gaze with Aria. She knew not to say a word of what he’d mentioned before. She understood completely, even if she’d not known what he’d meant. She felt apprehension at the thought of an incorporative host despite not experiencing one yet. She’d read about them and her grandmother’s story spoke of one in particular that held his own secret. Something astounding if not dangerous. That statement alone made her shiver in her shoes. 

“That is a matter for me to assess, Master Gloin.” Gandalf stated finally, gaze shifting back to the inquiring eyes observing him. “Now, before the day is over with, we must go.” 

Tane sidled up beside the girl, observing the party as they busied themselves gathering their things. It was then she missed her pack. She had clean clothes in it and knew that she couldn’t change into something less scratchy or something that didnt smell of death. Water, even if it wasnt hot, sounded refreshing at that moment and she couldnt deny the relife that flooded over her as he explained how shallow the ford to be. The mention of bathing in the river made her giddy, the layer of dust and goblin blood from the Death Pit had cracked and flaked from her skin. In some places, it had stuck like oil and refused to leave her completely. Her entire core screamed to be rid of it. 

I am leary of this path ahead, Tane spoke, bringing the girl from her thoughts. I heard what the wizard mentioned about our potential host. 

Maybe he will know what to say that will make things right, Aria replied thoughtfully. He seems to have a way with words. 

Tane snorted. Obviously. 

She couldnt help but stifle a giggle, just as a hesitant Dori began to approach the girl. He seemed to be holding something, Nori approaching as well with a shy gleam in his eyes. Aria tilted her head, smiling at the two as they slowly grew closer. 

“Miss Aria,” Dori began, stopping and casting his gaze over her shoulder. “I believe Nori found something that belongs to you yet again.” 

“I don’t think I have anything else that’s mine that hasnt been found already,” She chuckled, clutching the pendent beneath her sweatshirt. “He already returned something of great value earlier.” 

“Yes,” Dori nodded, eyes lifting to hers, “But I assume you would not mind having an extra set of clothes.” 

Aria narrowed her eyes in confusion just as Dori presented the object he’d been holding from behind him. She felt her face fall, eyes growing wide, as she observed the thing she’d missed only moments ago. It held far more dirt and grime than when she’d started and the clasp seemed a bit out of sorts, but it had held well. 

Her canvas backpack was one of the most welcoming sites, and she laughed heartily before taking the proffered object. 

“Thank you both so much.” She gushed. “You have no idea how bad I needed this!” 

They looked between themselves, their eyes glancing down at their own disheveled state. It was then she realized that they, might, understand the need for new clothes as seeing they’d possibly been wearing the same ones for quite some time. She apologized readily, the two dwarves’ eyes sparking with mirth. 

“No worries, Miss Jackson,” Nori beamed. “But, if ya don’t want it, I would gladly…”

His statement was immediately cut short by a harsh nudge to his ribs. Dori, who had done said nudging, grinned a little stiffly toward Aria before nodded her way and turning to leave. She watched with amusement at their retreating forms, sighing audibly before turning to her bag. 

They are shy around you, Tane observed, teal eyes still following the dwarves. I wonder why that is? 

I’m not sure, Her inner voice was thoughtful. I cant imagine they’ve seen very many humans let alone a woman before. Its probably even more of a culture shock to travel with one. 

Tane snorted and shook his head, large ears wagging. Very odd creatures, dwarves. They are not used to a human female yet they act as they did against one. 

She followed his gaze toward the dwarf king, who aided in gathering some of the packs and handing them to his comrades. His eyes lifted to hers for a moment, a smile playing upon his lips. He gave her a slow incline of his head indicating his acknowledgement before turning back to his comrades. Something tickled her breast like butterfly wings and it startled her for a moment.Then, it faded and she composed herself quickly. 

Yeah. She replied. Very odd. 

As the group finished packing themselves up, Aria slung her newly acquired bag over her shoulder and followed. The morning air felt cool and crisp as it tussled her hair. She drank in the sweetness of it, how unbidden it seemed to be compared to home. In certain areas in Oklahoma, the air would almost mirror that in which she walked through now but there was something about Middle Earth that seemed untouched by industry and smog. It felt almost feral and untamed. 

“Good morrow, Miss Aria!” Fili’s excited voice brought her from her revere and she nodded. 

“Good morning to you as well, Fili. How are you feeling?” 

Fili shrugged even though Aria did catch the hint of a wince in his fair features. “I am sore but it will pass. How do you fare?” 

How did she fare? Despite the fact that she’d woken up sore, she’d almost forgotten all of the injuries she’d sustained while fighting for her life against the goblins. She could feel the one in her shoulder, her cheek, and something on her leg. Making a note to observe what those damages were once she busied herself by bathing in the river. They ached now that the adrenaline had worn away with rest. 

“It’s safe to say that I have felt a million times better,” She replied, no wishing to go into any detail of how she really felt. “However, I can also say that right now I feel more relief than anything. I’m glad everyone’s okay and we are safe for now.” 

Fili nodded in understanding. “We are glad your alright as well, Miss Aria. You saved us all.” 

“No, sir. The eagles did that.” She snorted. 

Fili shook his head. “You rescued Uncle and helped us against that white orc. You saved us from perishing on that mountainside.” 

Her cheeks heated, causing the burn upon it to ignite. She winced, feeling very shy in that moment. She’d helped them, that’s all she had done. She’d not rescued them nor had she saved all of their lives. She’d possibly aided them, but that was it. End of story. Finite. 

“Well,” She said passed watery eyes of discomfort. “Thank you, but you should owe it to Gandalf and our feathered saviors.Not me.” 

She turned from him, finding that she would rather not meet his clear gaze. Her own eyes sought out her Warg, discovering he had wondered away toward the area she assumed to be the opening to the staircase. He sat upon his haunches, gazing toward her with a sparkle of anticipation. She could feel the excitement for a new adventure weaving through her own weariness, the sensation breaking the cold casing of her heart that had built itself against the battle. The caution cracked slightly and she could feel a genuine smile break the mask of dirt and goblin blood. 

Ready to go? She asked as she met him. 

The old Warg gave a chuff, lifting himself to stand. It has been ages since I have walked the grassy knolls of Arda. I am more than anticipating our adventure ahead. 

Arda? 

The Warg dipped his head. Yes. What you would call Middle Earth. 

She nodded, her mind filing the name back for safe keeping. The dwarves gathered around, Gandalf meeting them at the very first step. She noticed the smooth stone descending beneath, glistening in the sunlight. Gandalf gazed at them all before dipping his head to the company and beginning down the stairs. She could hear his staff tapping upon the worn steps, the dwarves indicating to her to go behind him. She acknowledged the gesture, flattered by their sudden manners, and followed. 

The weathered stones were slick with morning dew, her tennis shoes squelching uncomfortably upon them. The lack of a hand railing caused the girl to clutch at the wall on the opposite side for dear life, memories of the horrid fall from the cliff causing her limbs to tingle with fear. Behind her, she felt something touch her softly and she turned as best she could to find Tane carefully stepping forward to bar her from toppling over the edge. She gave him a look of thanks and he nodded. 

Aria’s heart quickened its pace within her breast. Even though the path was wide enough for two dwarves to stand abreast and perhaps, one girl and her Warg, it didnt sate the newly acquired panic that began to grip at Aria’s heart. Flashes of her tumble  caused her palms to slick despite the cool morning air. She feared the possibility of Tane barreling over the side due to one mis-step. Yet, as they continued down, his eyes met hers with confidence and she reprimanded herself on doubting his sure-footed gait. He was older than she, perhaps older than the company minus Gandalf, but it didnt mean he was weak. He’d proven to her many times of that matter. 

I have been scaling mountainsides since I was a cub, his jovial tone calmed her heart. I will be okay, Little Cub. 

She cautiously reached out and wove her fingers into his dark fur, careful not to push or press for fear of sending him tumbling. The wolf’s mind meshed with hers in a contented sigh, his worry he felt earlier fading as she walked with him. In that moment, of all moments, she was most thankful for his company. He was, without a doubt, a companion and her loyal guardian. If it werent for him on most of the occasion, she would have surely have been slain. 

A smile came across her face and she met his energy within her mind with one of even greater or equal value. They descended downward for what seemed like ages, but Aria paid no heed. With Tane there and the knowledge that they were still alive, she allowed herself to gaze out beyond her Warg toward the stretching green beyond. Colorful burds fluttered about the trees in the distance, a few much closer. She could see the flit of their beautiful feathers and hear their song. It placed a slight damper upon her unease, her lungs inflating as she drank in another fill of the crisp air. 

Eventually, she could hear the ever growing roar of the river below. The spray lifted from the waters to dance along the worn rock of the staircase. She felt it upon her skin, caressing lightly like a comforting hand. Beads of the dew dripped from her eyelashes and hair, sliding along her neck and leaving dirty trails behind. It reminded her how much she needed to bathe then and she was glad to know the promise of such a thing stood in her future even though she knew it to be cold. 

Eventually, the party reached the base of an old ford where the water ran thin over worn rocks. It sparkled like glitter flung upon a grey canvas. The mist from the water plus the bright sun caused small rainbows to form within the vapor and Aria couldn’t help but grin. The dwarves hooped and cheered behind her as they filtered upon the old stone at the base. She glanced upward into the looming form of the Carrock, blinking at the towering height before dropping her eyes to the dwarves as they began to disrobe. Her face heated immediately at the sudden gleam of skin before she turned her eyes away and laughed. 

“Oi!” A voice bellowed among them. “Do you not know decency? We have a lady among us!” 

Silence ensued followed by various curses and apologies in their language. The clink of armor began to sound among them and a rough hand softly touched her elbow. She blinked before turning her gaze toward the source, finding a gleam of blue and rugged face of Thorin. His eyes were apologetic, some of the company having donned their armor once again with faces of embarrassment. 

“I do apologize for their action, Miss Jackson.” He spoke with a serious expression. She couldnt be angry and didnt see a reason as to why she would ever be. 

“It’s alright.” She replied, eyeing his fingers upon her skin. “I think I might go around to see if there is a spot for me. There has to be an area similar to this one on the others side.” 

“Please do be careful.” Thorin responded. “The enemy may not be too far away.” 

Aria acknowledged his concern with a wave as she turned toward the opposite direction of the stairs. Tane informed her he would stay behind as well out of respect and she chuckled, commending him on having more than the dwarves. He chuffed to himself, sitting upon his haunches to await her return. 

Dwarves are brutish creatures, he deadpanned. They do not know an ounce of respect nor decency. 

With a giggle, Aria shook her head and continued on. She spotted a slim rocky path skirting one side and followed it, anxiously awaiting the bath she had wished silently for so long. The water steadily streamed about her feet as she tip toed over river stones darkened by the moisture and worn with age and time. Soon, she reached a small area well out of sight and sound from the others. She dropped her bag, unbuckling it to fish out the supposedly clean clothes she’d packed and was surprised with just that. The bewilderment didnt last long, however, and she chose not to look that gift horse in the mouth and question such things. 

Aria placed her clean garments, a tee-shirt and jeans atop the bag. She’d forgotten to pack an extra hooded sweatshirt and at the time, she figured it wouldnt have been needed. Now that the garment had experienced viscera and mud, she spurned her past self at not thinking to pack a spare. All she could do in that moment physically was shrug and prepare herself for the cold water to wash away the events of the most recent terrors. 

The air felt cold against her exposed skin while she slipped from the sweatshirt, the t-shirt she’d forgotten she’d worn underneath, and the jeans. Each were caked and soiled beyond measure. Even the shirt, which was one of her favorite rock bands, had been touched by the black blood. The stench was almost intolerable and Aria made to dunk each bit of clothing in the water as soon as she washed herself. 

A shiver raked down her spine as her movements caught the attention of her wounds. The first of two upon her right shoulder wasn’t as deep as it had felt, her concern focused more toward the other one centered toward the center of her shoulder blade that throbbed against the cold air. Through the entire fight for her life and the lives of others, it took a long time remembering that she’d lost use of her right arm for a moment before she could use it again. This concerned her. Without adrenaline, everything seemed to scream for the spotlight and she wondered how injured she truly was.

Aria drew closer to the flowing river, unsure if she was ready for the chill. Her leg ached from where the goblin’s knife had punctured right above her ankle. As she carefully dipped a toe within the water, she caught a glimpse of the dried blood. It ached and, to her astonishment, she realized she’d been walking upon a deep tissue wound that could have easily left her immobile. She had remembered that moment when the goblin had stabbed her. Blackness had only welcomed her after. 

She could also feel the painful burn upon her cheek, her mind refusing to dive back into the memories of that particular moment. She could hear her own screams echoing within the depths of her mind. She could see his ice blue eyes filled with malice and carnal pleasure. She could smell the reek of her own burned flesh. Tears threatened to fall and Aria sniffled, wiping them immediately.

After her body had accommodated to the water upon her toes, she stepped in further. It enveloped her intimately like a cool, wet sleeve. She shivered for a moment as she sank upon the rocky bed to her chin. She allowed her hair to flow around her in crimson waves, watching as the gunk bled into the crystal clear waters. The wound on her leg stung as did the various cuts upon her skin. As the water swept over her shoulder, she winced. 

 Where had this injury derived from? That period in which she had acquired it was foggy, almost black. She recalled immense pain and the immobility of her right limb, sure, but how had it happened? She also heard various voices within her mind warning her various things that involved her well being, warning her of immense agony, and other things. The snap of wood. The exit of a broadhead. Eyes of deep sorrow at a realization of what they had done. 

Friendly fire, a voice within her mind quietly muttered. 

Aria stiffened in the water. She’d sat herself upon a large, flat rock while the water meandered around her lazily. She knew that voice. She glanced around, eyes wide and mind wondering upon the location of it. She was silly in thinking she’d find it physically around her. Even so, the woods and the rocks provided nothing of use. 

The young dwarf, the voice spoke again. His aim misled him. He shot you. 

Her eyes widened. Of course. The arrow Kili had loosed that had lodged itself in her shoulder. The same arrow that had been ignored, but had caused the loss of feeling in her arm until Oin had pulled it out. The very same projectile whose planned, but unwarranted, removal had caused her to black out atop a branch while waves of wargs barreled into the trees from below. 

She’d not forgotten it. She’d simply pushed it from her mind. The hole in which the arrow had pierced her flesh had closed slightly despite not having had time to heal fully. It was if it hadn’t been an arrow wound at all and simply something she’d scraped her shoulder on. 

You have more injuries, Little Mouse. The Stranger told her and thus began her search for whatever wounds she’d endured. Your ankle is more concerning. 

Fancy hearing from you again, Aria spat back as she lightly scrubbed the dried blood from the wound on her leg. 

You are still alive. They deadpanned. I am not the problem. 

 Your making my head hurt, she hissed. You’re about to be. 

For what felt like hours, Aria perused herself as she sat in the cool water to soak. The blood and mud she’d used upon her face and limbs in the goblin tunnels eventually softened and washed away as she cleansed it with a cleaned sock. It served as an acceptable substitute, quickly disbanding the coagulated fluids and clearing her injuries. With each scrub of the cloth, she grew even more concerned with how deep the knife wound seemed to be and just how much crud she’d gotten into it as well as the others. 

She heard the chortles and splashes of the party just around the corner. For a bit, she allowed herself to sit within the water nude and listen to the joy each of them seemed to announce. She swore, among the various guffaws, she heard a much deeper one that reminded her of thunder and a pair of crystal blues. Then, a lighter but heartier laugh sounded in tandem with the much deeper one. She knew exactly who they were and it caused her to smile at the thought of the lighter laugh belonging to a dwarf who needed it as much as her Hobbit comrade. She heard his as well and wished she could join them for a moment. 

Eventually, Aria had assessed all wounds and found herself otherwise decent despite the on on her leg. It had, fortunately, missed a tendon. It was simply a flesh wound and one she’d been able to walk on thanks to adrenaline and the need to survive. Now, she was unsure if she could walk on it after cleansing it. Sometimes, the washing didnt help as far as getting rid of the pain. With a deep sigh, Aria rose. 

Her ankle screamed for a moment and she worried once again. However, as she stepped from the water and began to don her clean clothes, she felt her strength return and the pain become only a slim and almost unnoticeable thing. She remained standing still for a bit, allowing the muscles to remind themselves that they were not, in fact, weak. She didnt wish to look another gift horse in the mouth and continued to pack her things. She wished to braid her hair but left it to air dry on its own. 

Once done, she double checked to make sure the pendant was secured around her neck and shouldered her pack. She slipped on a new pair of socks and her soiled tennis shoes. She made a mental note that if she ever returned home, she’d email the company and let them know how awesome their shoes were. Also, she felt lucky that she wore a dark shirt, pondering if the sun would keep her warm enough to not need the hoodie she had washed. She’d folded it and packed it despite it being wet, hoping to allow it to dry with the others and not stay away from the protection of her Warg for too long. A swift breeze fluttered across her skin and she shivered, the burn upon her cheek tingling a little. This was enough to cause her to turn, bee-lining toward the curve in the rock that signaled the path back. 

As she made her way forward, she halted at the cusp and gripped the strap of her pack tight. 

“Hey all!” She called around the bend. “I’m done with my bath. Are you guys decent?” 

The voices ceased and she waited with bated breath. Among the murmur, she swore she heard a deep baritone hissing for the others to gather themselves and don some clothes. She wasn’t sure as to who the voice belonged to fully but if her gut had been right, she would have had to guess that a certain dwarf king’s company had not been ready or decent and a certain dwarf king was shooting orders for them to be. 

Various splashes and exasperated statements could be heard while Aria’s gaze flew to the opposite wall of hills and stretching green fields. She heard even more words hissed in haste, assuming they were swears in dwarfish. Birds fluttered against the azure sky while she gazed away, a sigh escaping her lips. Even after her bath, she still felt exhausted. Every limb argued against movement and she wished only to crumple upon the ground and nap. However, knowing not what lay beyond and understanding that the orcs could still be pursuing them despite what casualties they’d suffered remained at the forefront of her mind. 

She shivered just as the scuffle of wet pebbles caused her to turn and find Bofur standing there. She smiled at him, his eyes wide as if he were expecting her to still be nude despite her announcement. He gave her a small smile as well. 

“Miss Aria,” He said somewhat sheepishly. “We are ready to go when you are.” 

She nodded, watching him turn and she followed. She heard more voices increasing in volume the closer she drew to the group. Her shoes squelched on the slick rocks while she followed, the steady beating of water against them almost drowning out some of the voices. 

As they both rounded the corner, Aria couldn’t help but laugh silently to herself as she witnessed the clean faces of the dwarven party. Even if she knew they could have done better, it was a shock to see mostly gleaming cheeks free of dirt and blood gazing back at her. She felt her own face heat, the center of attention not one of her favorite things to be. She was saved, however, by her Warg who came to meet her as the dwarves and Bilbo began to gather their things. His ebony fur gleamed with drops of water and he shook himself free of it. She laughed heartily, the scent of wet dog almost suffacating. 

You smell much nicer than you did before, Little Cub. Tane’s eyes sparkled with amusement. How was your bath? 

It was great. I see you decided to do that same, Aria smirked at the drenched wolf. Now it’s you who smells. 

Tane snorted, making it a point to shake again and plaster her with more river water. She laughed, attempting to shield herself from the onslaught of water as it pelted her. With her laughter, she could feel Tane’s sudden elation at the sound. Even though she knew him to be aged, he skipped around her like an excited puppy. She shook her head at the Warg until he stopped, wagging his tail. After he was done, he stepped forward and almost appeared to smirk at her. 

Not bad for an elder. He admitted with confidence. 

She giggled, turning her attention to the others as they finished gathering their supplies and readying for their trek. She wondered how long it would take to get to their host’s home. Would it be a day, a week, or more. Who was this being Gandalf spoke of? Did he wish them harm if he was not favorable toward dwarves? 

Aria’s mind began to race while idle chatter filled the silence and babbling of the river. Tane nudged her forward and she lifted her own eyes to find the others beginning to gauge the river and figure out an area to cross. As she’d witnessed before, the water was much shallow where the dwarves had bathed earlier. It seemed Thorin and Gandalf had already figured that point from there, their heads bobbing as each spoke their turn in hushed voices. 

“It looks like we can cross where Gandalf is pointing right there.” A voice shook her and she glanced to the side. 

Bilbo, free of dirt and blood, beamed up at her with sparkling eyes. His jacket had been brushed clean of much of the dirt, black viscera, and other nasty things she herself had experienced before. Water dripped from his caramel curls, indicating he’d also dipped below the water’s surface. 

Aria nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m hoping those rocks aren’t too slippery for us.” 

Bilbo’s face twisted in thought. “They didn’t appear too bad when we washed ourselves, but all we can do is try.” 

For some reason, Aria felt as if trying was not the best idea. A fluttering within her breast stumped her, giving her the impression that something not entirely good could be found in the future. What, she was unsure. To whom, that also seemed to evade her. Yet, she couldnt deny that feeling and the fear of speaking up about it also caused her a moral dilemma. 

All she could do was hope and pray to whatever resided above her in the heavens that they could make it across safely. They’d been through so much already and had witnessed horrible things. They needed a break. They needed respite somewhere without the threat of something else attempting to take their lives. In a manner of speaking, she really wasnt supposed to be in Middle Earth and the thought of enduring another round of something horrid caused her stomach to tighten. 

Bilbo placed a hand upon her arm, his skin warm against the chill she still held from her bath. “Whatever you are thinking, I believe we should be okay for a bit. Rest your mind, Miss Aria.” 

She smiled. “Thanks, Bilbo. I’ll attempt it.” 

It didnt help that some stranger and a Warg had access to it. 

Gandalf announced then the departure from their current location. Aria’s mind wondered to her earlier thoughts but she did her best not to linger. Instead, she chose to close her mind to everything that she considered negative and followed the party over the rocks. They gleamed with water in the sunlight, shining bright enough to almost blind her. 

A breeze fluttered through her damp hair, cool and crisp and laden with the smells she could not place. They were far from what she could scent in Oklahoma. Even if she didnt mind the aromas of the farm as well as mud and the smell of rain in the spring, nothing back home seemed to trump the clarity she detected upon the winds of Middle Earth. It was fresher and much healthier, giving her heart the energy she needed to truly appreciate the beauty of the new land. In that moment, she actually noticed the grass seemed much greener, the mountains much taller and more majestic. The water, too, seemed to gleam with an unearthly tone of majesty. 

She could feel her own vision possibly dramatizing the area while the party trekked over the ford and crystal waters, furthering themselves beyond to step upon emerald hued grass. She couldnt help it, though. She’d been born into a life of industry, surrounded by the wills of machines. They were crutches and means to make life easier. With this, however, came the tainting of all that was beautiful. The air at home felt dank and dirty. Middle Earth was different, however. Her blood warmed at the thought of such elegance and purity. The land was untamed and beautiful, something she’d never known before. Like a book where new adventures resided with every turn of the page. 

At that very moment, and despite what weariness she couldn’t rid herself of, she felt as if she were a part of a book she’d never want to put down. 

Chapter Text

“ Athelas they named it, and it grows now sparsely...; and it is not known in the North, except to some of those who wander in the Wild. It has great virtues, but over such a wound as this its healing powers may be small.” - The Fellowship of the Ring, LoTR Book 1, Ch 12, Flight to the Ford

Passed the Carrock lay green as far as she could see. The light breeze sent waves of weaving grass to roll like the waters of an ocean. For a brief moment, Aria was reminded of home and the endless sight of bearded wheat bobbing in the summer waft. It wasn't home she scanned while following the dwarves. She knew only that it was untamed and mysterious, things she thought she’d like long ago but now faced with weariness. 

Ahead of her, Thorin followed diligently behind Gandalf. Bilbo trekked to her right and Tane to her left. Every so often, she could feel Tane’s aura brushing hers. She assumed it to be a random check up, assessing if she were faring well or not. She would push back with hers gently with a slight smile, thankful for the small intrusion. She would allow him to know that she was, in fact, okay. On other occasions during their trek, she glanced forward to find a pair of clear blues regarding her. He would nod her way, then turn to follow Gandalf once again or speak to a portion of the company. The brothers were directly behind him, Kili throwing glances her way after a few beats. For a moment, she felt curious as to why he would seek her out. She told herself to simply ask him if they stopped later. Eventually, she’d wondered toward the back of the group simply to observe everything on her own. It didn't seem to bother anyone, leaving her to her thoughts and Tane’s mental check ups. 

The path they followed was only one Gandalf knew. There were no worn ways through the grass nor were there any indications in which to inform her of where they were going. She hadn’t the slightest clue what direction they traveled and she only came to know who trekked in front of her. Her shoes fared well in the thick, dew slick grass. Even as the wind blew and perhaps dried it, the blades of green still served as a means to slip and fall. Aria was thankful for Tane’s assistance in that aspect despite her stubborn will to keep herself upright. The dwarves didn’t seem to have any issues and she wondered if she were the only one struggling. However, that entire worry was shut down as Bilbo gripped her right arm. She aided him as best she could, keeping him close as to make sure he didn't fall again. 

The sun was almost atop them when she could clearly feel the stab wound in her ankle more clearly than before. It throbbed like the blade was there once again, causing sweat to form upon her brow with worry. She’d grit her teeth against the pain, unwilling to cause anyone grief or stress by giving away anything in regards to her sudden suffering. To her luck, however, some of the others exhibited signs of their discomfort as well. Despite his rough exterior, Dwalin drew extra breaths as they trudged along. Balin showed the same, his movements stiff if not slightly slower than his brother’s. She noticed their armor and wondered if it served as an extra weight or if they were used to such things. This thought left her, however, when noticed Thorin slow himself as well only to find that he’d done so for her sake. 

She swallowed a lump in her throat, nodding his way as he turned to her. 

“Do you fare well, Miss Jackson?” His clear blues flickered over her person for a moment before meeting her gaze. 

She didn’t tell him exactly how she fared. Yes, she fared okay. In reality, thought, she hurt. Immensely. She wasn’t tough like a dwarf or accustomed to the pain like a Warg. Thorin, like everyone else, seemed to be sore and tired. Despite the rest they’d received the night prior, there were still signs of fatigue within the companies’ eyes. However, they dealt with this pain knowing their journey to be long and the promise of respite lingering ahead. She couldn’t imagine what all they’d been through. 

On top of that, she couldn’t really rally up the courage to say anything. it had been engrained in her system since the day she’d been adopted and thrown into the cesspool of horror after her grandmother passed. At first, it had taken all of her will power and strength to keep from lashing out or from doing anything that only added to the pain. Since the first time, she’d eventually numbed herself the bruises. She’d walled her heart from emotions, cried until she could no longer feel the tears or they all ran out. Then, she’d understood to keep quiet. To show nothing of her suffering. If she had, she would have been beaten again. Her entire mindset had screamed for her to remain silent because it was simply safer that way. No matter how much Thorin gazed into her eyes, she still kept that mind set or at least willed herself to try. 

When she’d noticed her ankle, she’d begun to limp slightly. Without knowing full well how bad the damage was (a doctor’s opinion more than her own), she simply didn't feel safe putting too much weight upon it. Its sting was deep and nasty and she feared she would cause more issues in the long run if she remained upon it. Yet, she couldn’t ask Tane to carry her. He’d suffered too much as well and to ask him for transportation seemed selfish. She knew he could feel bits of her pain, his gaze shifting and mind reaching forward to read her. She’d blocked him with a wall of positivity, offering him small smiles of reassurance to quell his wondering thoughts. 

To her dismay, though,  her sudden lameness had caused unwanted attention from other parties. Various eyes followed her as she winced while ambling up a hill or over a rough spot in trampled grass. Bilbo’s glances of concern didn’t help her as she warred with herself. The slick green also hindered her and she blamed it more for her increasing gimp than anything. 

 As the dwarf leader followed along beside her, she could feel Thorin’s gaze full of doubt rest like stones upon her shoulders. She knew he knew. Did she wish to tell him? She wasn’t sure. All she wanted to listen to was what her gut told her. Avoid unwanted attention. Keep moving. Don’t hold up the line. Stay silent. 

You scream one more time, girl, you will truly regret it…

She closed her eyes against the voice of her foster father. She could feel the sting of a belt upon her back, her wrists, and her arms. She hated how, even in that moment in another world, she could still hear a portion of him. The wounds she’d sustained under his wrath were only ghostly now, but they were still there as a reminder of what she’d been through. 

“You’re injured.” He stated, concern lacing his deep voice. She shook her head, closing her eyes to the memories. 

“What gave it away?” 

Thorin’s bushy brow quirked upward. “You seem to be favoring a leg. It is unlike you to walk with such a limp.” 

She snorted. “I guess I am guilty as charged.” 

He cocked his head, unsure of what she meant she assumed. “Guilty?” 

“I’m sorry,” She offered him an apologetic smile. “I mean that yes, I am injured.” 

His face changed immediately. Concern and anger masked his features like dark clouds of a rolling storm and he almost whirled upon her like a cobra. His clear blues turned stormy and she felt her own eyes widen with a slight bit of fear. 

“You failed to let us know this?” He almost growled, his voice hushed. She could detect how much he attempted to keep his voice calm and collected and it frightened her how sudden his attitude had changed. 

“I didn’t fail at anything.” She cut, straightening herself. “I didn’t want to cause any issues on our journey so I kept it to myself.” 

“Why is that?” He narrowed his gaze at her, Aria’s heart cowering within her chest. His authority seemed to pulse in waves around him, his aura fierce and strong like a lion. She was a mouse for a moment, shivering within the grass of the savannah as he stared her down. 

Then, she remembered who she really was. She recalled what she’d been through and how much of that pain she’d endured to get where she was. Sure, he’d possibly seen his fair share of blood and viscera as well as the raging of wars. He’d felt his own pain and fought his own demons. Still, he wouldn’t ever understand hers. He couldn’t just because she was not him and he was not her. 

“Like I said before,” She matched his tone with hers, keeping it flat but assertive. “I didn’t want to slow us down or cause any unwanted stops or fowl ups.” 

His eyes narrowed further. Then, he turned from her. She watched as he cupped his hands around his mouth. 

“We will be resting here for a moment or two.” He announced, hands falling to his sides and eyes averting to find hers again. “There are some among us that are tired and could use a respite.” 

Everyone turned to him, faces full of confusion and relief. Bofur was the first to readily voice the idea to be a good one, cheering and leaping from their intended path to find a particularly appetizing spot of grass and rocks. Others soon joined, tired bodies flopping down upon the ground like sacks of wet potatoes. In a way, Aria herself was thankful. As much as it annoyed her that Thorin had made the call on her behalf, the others didn’t quite see it that way. As a matter of fact, they didn’t see it all. He’d not mentioned her as the reason and, therefore, he’d not said anything or done anything against her pride or whatever had kept her from speaking out in the first place. It was all felt by her alone. 

This is not where you came from, came the familiar and annoyed voice of the Stranger. You are in a much different world now and, thus, others will surprise you. 

She had to agree fully. Her foster father and the horrid hell she lived in was long gone for the time being. Sure, she wanted to go back but not to them. She wanted to live a life of her own choosing and void of violence and heartache. She wanted to pick something to eat, to listen to, to watch, and to do freely without repercussions and fear. She hoped, for her sake, she could here. 

Thorin strode away quickly and with a haste she wondered upon. She watched as he swept his way through the company to Gandalf, mind wondering upon their conversation. Then, her ankle ached again and she tore her gaze from the two. 

With slight difficulty but one done with as best masking of her discomfort as she could muster, she found a place to sit. The air felt cool, the sun warm upon her shoulders as she planted upon the grass with her back to the wind. It reminded her heavily of an Oklahoma Falls before the chill, dry air of Winter. She remembered the promise of the blazing colors atop the trees as their leaves changed with the season. It was by far her favorite time, she recalled, and the one that gave her the most peace. 

She pondered on seasons in Middle Earth, wondering if it shared some similar to her world or held something far different. It felt almost like the last dregs of summer before the air began to change. She wished to ask them, but found herself enjoying the idle chatter among the others while she situated herself upon the lush grass. Her fatigue seemed to wash over her in an overwhelming, heavy wave. For a brief moment, she wished to take a nap right there. Perhaps the very thing would send her back home. However, as she felt her heavy eyelids beginning to shut, she felt a light bump from a wet object. Blinking away at the sleep, she found Tane’s teal gaze filled with worry at her tiredness. 

I wish I could condone sleeping, Cub, His voice seemed filled with slight remorse. Like a parent apologizing to their child for something. Yet, I cannot. It is far too dangerous even with the company present. 

I know, she replied with a small smile. I am just so tired. 

You are fooling no one with your injury, he sighed, sitting upon his haunches beside her and she leaned again his side. Will you not allow me to carry you?

No one else is asking to be carried. I don't want special treatment. 

The dwarf with the silly hat has asked me twice now, Tane snorted. He keeps wishing to ride me into battle I do believe or something similar. 

Have you given it some thought, Aria chuckled. 

I will leap from the great falls in Rivendell before I allow that from someone other than you. 

No special treatment, Tane, Aria groaned. 

You are my charge. He retorted flatly. You have no choice. 

Aria shook her head as Tane’s eyes wondered. She followed the direction in which he was looking, observing the gentle conversations of the some of the dwarves and animated explanations of others. She watched their faces, smiling at the expressions Bofur exhibited while excitedly telling Bombur something. Fili and Kili seemed to be resting, Kili’s head nearly rolling like a bobble head figurine as he fought sleep.  Fili smacked his brother lightly upon the arm to wake him, the younger of the two bolting upright only to do the same seconds later. This caused a smile to form upon her face. She didn't blame them.

Something stirred within her head like mist parting with the wind. Words began to form there, her mind detecting the sounds her ears could not. She narrowed her gaze, process voices seeming entirely too far for her human ears to detect. She knew immediately who could hear them speaking, closing her eyes to focus. 

“She is injured, Gandalf.” A deep, baritone she knew stated harshly. “At this rate, she will slow us down.” 

“If I remember correctly, you were the one who allowed her to be here. If she is slowing you down, you should have known.” Gandalf’s voice seemed flat, almost amused. 

“I did not know she was injured. At this rate, the enemy will reach us.” 

“I must say,” Gandalf seemed thoughtful. “Why are you telling me all of this, Master Thorin? It seems you need to speak with her.” 

She heard Thorin growl and Aria knew with a heavy heart that she had caused, against her will, issues with hiding her injury. Disappointment seemed to rack her brain, worry flooding through her soul to remind her that she was just another body among this group. They didn’t know her nor could they care too much about her. The very thought deepened the gut wrenching sadness one would feel in the pit of their stomach. She felt a nose brush against her cheek, Tane reaching out to her. 

Do not heed his words too deeply, Cub. He thrummed. He knows not what he speaks and speaks not what he knows. 

The silence stretched for a bit. Aria figured the conversation to be done, her heart aching until Tane’s ears picked up some more of the conversation. 

“Why do you seem truly upset about the girl’s injuries, Thorin?” Gandalf inquired. “Is it truly because you are concerned about her slowing the company down?” 

His question seemed real, as real as one could get in that moment. Thorin’s sudden anger and annoyance at the fact that Aria was limping had arrived out of nowhere. His sudden change of attitude had also arrived out of nowhere. 

Thorin didn't answer for a while. His silence she took as either refusal or lack of an answer. 

 “Why the girl?” Thorin finally growled. “Why is she here, Gandalf?” 

“Hmm,” Gandalf’s thoughtful hum seemed intrigued. 

“Why is she here?” 

“I’m not so sure as to why. It was as I said back at the shire, Master Thorin,” Gandalf voice seemed to smile. The shire? “There was someone who was to join us that would come to mean a great deal to our cause and bring aid and luck. Perhaps she is that very one?” 

“How can you be so sure?” Thorin’s voice was rushed, almost in denial. She was reminded of a rebellious teenager in the fact that he wished not to dabble in what he truly felt. That sort of vulnerability drew him into another light for her and she immediately understood that he, perhaps, was not very well versed in showing any emotions. 

“Master Thorin,” Aria could almost hear the wizards smile widen to one of mirth. “I simply have a gut feeling that cannot be swayed. Something important will take place now that she has joined our party. Trust me on this.”

She could hear Thorin snort. “You mentioned something similar about our meeting place. Where this journey began. That did not turn out to be the greatest.” 

“I do not disagree. Yet, here we are.” Gandalf’s voice reverberated certainty. He was attempting to persuade the other party as best as he could toward his judgement. “We are safe for now and on the right path toward help.” 

“This ‘help’ of yours,” Thorin’s voice read distrust. “He seems dangerous. How can we trust you and him?” 

“He will help us.” Gandalf’s voice was flat, the conversation finished. “That is all you will need to know.” 

“Miss Jackson,” a voice brought her thoughts forward and into reality, Thorin and Gandalf’s voices fading. She lifted her gaze to find Bofur across from her with shining eyes. The sun’s rays caught alight the fuzzy flaps of his silly hat and made it glow like fire. 

“Tell us a bit about your world, lass. We were just discussing how we know nothing of where you came from.” Balin smiled. “I guess you could say that we know you, but nothing of you.” 

She laughed, the act causing her chest to ache. “Well, what do you want to know?” 

“Do ya really come from a different world?” Dwalin shot at her gruffly. She tilted her head to him, his eyes narrowing as if in disbelief and she knew he would carry it for a while. She didn't blame him and Balin was correct. They knew nothing about her. She hoped they could trust her enough after everything she’d been through to help them. Somehow she felt that, like Dwalin, a few of them did not believe her nor would they trust her simply because she was not from their world. Perhaps, she thought, speaking of hers would ease their mind. 

“I guess you can say that.” She replied, kicking her wounded leg out slightly. “Its far different than this place, that’s for sure.” 

“Well,” Gloin burst in with anticipation. “Tell us ‘bout it, lass!” 

“Where do I even start?” 

“You could start with where you are from.” Fili suggested, stepping forward to take a seat with the rest who had gathered. Half of the company seemed to be drawn to their sudden conversation. 

“Okay,” She scratched her chin. “I guess I could tell you about Oklahoma which is where I called home until now.”

She began with explaining what exactly Oklahoma was for understanding, knowing full well they could not possibly know what a state was nor a country. She broke down the governments as best as she could and thanked her government teacher in school for thoroughly discussing it with her class. From there, she went into detail of certain towns and what those meant to the government, slowly ending with what capitols were and the difference in small towns and cities. This seemed to spark a bit of understanding in Balin, his eyes alight as she spoke of certain government traits. She wondered what his affiliation with government had been and if he still associated himself with such things. Bilbo’s expression of wonder did not mirror that of Bofur’s who had found a blade of grass more enticing than her speech of state, federal, and local governments of the United States. 

Then, she moved on to topography. Her listeners hushed and wide eyed seemed to lean forward as she spoke. She started from Maine through New England, to Florida and Louisiana and above. She skipped her region for dramatic purposes only known to her and described the sweeping Rocky Mountains and the chain that followed all the way up to the Canadian Provinces. 

“What is really neat about Oklahoma, though, is that she varies on topography, meaning that she has mountains in one portion and flat plains of grass in another. Large forests cover the eastern portion for as far as the eye could see and large, sloping mountains rise in the south west. Then, there’s the Osage Prairie. No trees, just grass.” 

“Just grass?” Fili’s eyes widened. “For ages? That sounds almost impossible.” 

“It’s not. Believe me.” Aria smirked. “It can also be super cool in the morning and very hot during the day.” 

“It usually keeps cool most days here,” Balin scratched his beard. “I agree it is quite mild compared to Okla-homa.” 

“What are some other names of the states in your country?” Dori asked as he settled himself beside Bombur.

“Well, you have Kansas that is much flatter than Oklahoma…” She explained. 

Aria went on to describe as many of the states as she could. She covered all of the basics or the most popular in her world, describing them as best she could with what knowledge she held of them. If she’d been to them all, she would have gone into greater detail. She hadn’t, however, and a wave of regret caused her heart to sink while she continued talking. 

“So, you are sayin’ Louis-iana is slowly sinkin’ into tha’ sea an’ no one there really cares?” Bofur thoughtfully cocked his head in her direction. 

“And Kans-ass is just one flat piece in your country?” Fili

Aria shrugged. “You got it. Kansas is boring. Louisiana, however, has more to her. There are various other things like alligators and the like. They are scaled creatures who eat all the time. They scare me. Don’t even get me started about Australia. That place will kill you.” 

“Oh,” Bofur brightened. “It almost sounds like this place but we have dragons.” 

Aria’s breath hitched for a moment at the mention of them. She’d only heard about it once from the company, but it had flown past because of the recent activities. 

“Don’t remind me.” She growled. 

“Well, at least we won’t have to worry ‘bout it until we get there,” Bofur smiled, cluelessly trying to making the situation slightly better. 

Aria laughed deeply, her sides aching, the moment gone. “You know, you’re not wrong. But, its very pretty here and so wild. I’m used to the bustle of civilization and the constant footprint of people. This place reminds me of how it used to be before humans took over my world.” 

“There are tha’ many of yer kind on Earth?” Bofur tilted his head, hat flopping to the side. 

“More than you can imagine.” She huffed. 

They all sat in comfortable silence for a few moments more. The breeze flitted through them, the soft smells of flowers and grass lifting like dandelion fuzz through the waves of unseen current. She didn’t let her mind wonder too much, allowing herself to relax and just be. It was really the first time she’d not let her thoughts meander to subjects that frightened or annoyed her. She let them settle like silt at the bottom of a fish tank, blank and unassuming. Instead of thinking, she simply focused upon her breathing and the dull ache of her muscles. She felt the sting of her leg, sliding her eyes closed while she allowed herself to accept it, to numb herself to it. 

Rough hands captured her aching ankle and her eyes flew open. She heard Tane growl next to her, standing on all fours to defend. Her gaze flew about, her first instinct being to wrench her leg from the grasp of whoever had gripped it. Yet,  the knowledge of just how bad it hurt left her body still. 

 The hands left her leg and Tane stepped forward. 

“Call off your Warg, Miss Jackson.” Someone growled.

Her greens met with clear blues and she narrowed her gaze. Tane’s mind brushed against her, asking if he needed to proceed. She shook her head and he backed away, acknowledging her request to remain calm. Even if the sudden intrusion was not warranted, she still didn't wish to have blood spilled by Tane. 

Thorin kneeled again beside her, hands coming to lift the leg of her jeans up once again. She jerked, eyes flaring wide at the gesture. He noticed this, hard gaze softening into one of a pleading nature. 

“Let me look at your injury, Miss Jackson.” He ordered. Then, almost in a whisper he muttered, “Please?” 

For some reason, the last request seemed to thwart her disdain for his actions. If he didn't wish to cause her any discomfort or harm, perhaps his intentions were truly geared toward assessing the damage she’d so carefully covered. What she didn't seem to understand was why? Why her? Why focus solely upon what she’d done to injure herself and not the others? 

Taking her silence for submission (something she didn’t really agree upon but didn't push), he lifted the leg of her jeans up to reveal the wound. The air was cool upon her skin as it was exposed to the air, the injury throbbing against the crisp breeze. She hissed when it made contact with the tender flesh, blinking back tears welling up within her eyes. 

“Hold still, Miss Jackson.” Thorin ordered softly albeit a bit gruff. She could tell he was not used to the mild mannerism he currently enacted and it annoyed her that her situation had reduced her to listening to him. “I would like to see how badly you are injured.” 

She felt a quip upon the tip of her tongue, one that would make her annoyance toward him subside slightly. Yet, she knew the entire ordeal to mean little in the whole scheme of things. She wasn't a fan of him touching her nor was she a fan of his mild mannerisms toward her. After listening in on the conversation between him and the wizard from earlier, the entire ordeal brought questions and aggravation toward the forefront. She silently thanked Tane for his help. 

In the whole scheme of things, however, she had little choice in the matter simply because she was in no shape to have a septic wound nor was she in any shape to be left behind. She knew for a fact there were no hospitals or disinfectants readily available. If Thorin or anyone in the company knew how to make the wound go away, to aid in the healing process, she would undoubtedly take it. She would survive for a little while, but given that she’d been injured and her closest ally was Tane, she would not wager against the horde of goblins and orcs finding them and slaughtering them within minutes. 

His fingers brushed upon the tender flesh around the wound, lowering her sock to view it better. She stifled another hiss, her muscles tensing and spiking another arc of pain through her entire body. Thorin’s eyes lifted to her with worry lacing among the blue and she gave him a small smile. A slight bit of annoyance seemed to be there as well. 

“I’ve been literally thrown around and battered,” She huffed. “Yet that tiny scratch is causing me so many issues.” 

Thorin’s gaze glittered slightly, but his tone felt serious. “It is not simply a scratch, Miss Jackson. You are very injured. We must…” 

“‘Here,” A figure thrust something white and green into each of their faces. “This is usually considered a weed among others but it can help with pain.” 

Aria lifted her eyes to find Kili and Oin towering over them. Kili’s gaze fell to his feet as if embarrassed to present her with anything despite him being the one holding the plant. She eyed the proffered foliage, the brilliant green of its leaves and bright white flowers gleaming in the sunshine. With worry, she saw his hands trembling as well. Aria wanted so badly to lift herself up and embrace the dwarf. Yet, she couldn’t. Not with Thorin’s hands upon her ankle. 

“Kingsfoil.” Oin stated. “A plant fer healin’.” 

“It’s pretty.” Aria smiled, more toward Kili than Oin. Tane nosed the plant curiously, Kili eyeing him with nervousness. “How do we apply it?” 

“Most of it is dried,” Oin explained and Aria noted this to be true. Some of the leaves had grown faint in color, indicating they were lacking in life or near to it. “If crushed in hot water and ya smell it, it’ll clear yer mind.” 

I have heard of it before, Tane sat upon his haunches again, fur brushing her arms as if to reassure her he was still there. Its healing properties are very popular with the elves. Since they have magical abilities, they can tap into the powers of the plant.

“We don’t have any hot water, Oin.” Thorin cut, clearly perturbed by the fact that he’d been interrupted. “Nor do we possess the magic to use it.” 

“No, your majesty, we don’t.” Oin seemed to ignore his leader’s tone, focusing on the girl instead. “But, we can attempt to crush it up and put it upon the wound like a paste.” 

Aria nodded. “All we can do is try.” 

The healer un-shouldered his pack, digging among the various objects within in search of something. Eventually, he discovered a hard object that rattled and brought it into the light of day. Aria noticed it to be a dark mortar and pastel, a small smirk quirking at the edges of her mouth at knowing he would undoubtedly carry one. She knew a little about medicinal herbs and how it used to be done before the age of medicine. She also understood that the mortar and pastel were key tools in the grinding of those herbs and the blending of properties to make certain balms and other forms of medicine. It was a fragile thing kept by a strong, hard edged being and the very thought made her heart swell. 

“Kili, son, why don’ ya help gather all I ‘ave in me bag to grind up?” Oin asked of the shy, dark haired dwarf. 

Kili nodded, eyes flicking to Aria and her bare leg before turning and taking the bag Oin presented him. While he rummaged, Oin began crushing whatever he had gathered earlier. The clack and grinding noise felt loud amongst the silence that surrounded them. The wind whistled through the grass and she watched as Thorin bore her leg to the elements, Oin pulverizing the plant in his mortar and pastel, and Kili gripping as much of the plant as he could. 

“Where did you get all of this, Oin?” Thorin asked, eyeing the handful Kili had set down. 

“Tha elf healer in Rivendell offered me some. Said I might need it.” The healer replied. “Thought he was out of his mind, but it seems I will be usin’ it after all.” 

The healer scooted closer to her and gazed down at the wound. He whistled as his eyes took on the visage and worry pooled in her belly. As if reading her mind, Tane’s nose lightly touched her forearm. She ran her hand along his large forehead, finding comfort in his touch. 

She dared not move, however, when Oin began apply the paste he’d made. She wasn’t sure what good it would do. She’d known long ago that plants had been the remedy to many ailments. Not in her time, though. Perhaps when her ancestors were alive they’d used ointments made from natural ingredients. She was not used to such things where she was from and the thought that a simple plant could aid her pain caused her disbelief. Without the powers needed, it would possibly render itself useless. 

Yet, as Oin applied it, it was cool against the festered skin. She gasped, flinching slightly at its application and stark coldness. Tane leaned into her as she did so, Thorin’s eyes lifted to hers with worry and a silent command to still herself written in therm. She narrowed her gaze, cutting daggers his way at his demeanor and the very fact that he dared to command her at all. 

“Do we ‘ave any bandages? Old cloth perhaps?” Oin asked, wiping his hands upon his worn pants. 

“Here,” Fili approached them, eyes glancing downward to witness her bare leg and the menagerie that was upon it. “My, Miss Jackson, I’ve seen Kili’s sick look more appetizing than that.” 

Kili turned, eyes wide with shock. His own matched that of Aria’s as she leaned back. “What?” 

She drew herself forward, past the protective arm Thorin attempted to use to keep keep her gaze at bay. This movement caused her to scoot forward slightly upon the grass and lift her bottom as much as she could without disturbing the entire crew who loomed over her. As her eyes followed down to the location of the ankle, she felt her stomach flop. She felt the world begin to spin, various thoughts fluttering through her glitching brain. 

Why was this causing her system to revolt now? She’d not done this before. When she’d bathed in the cool waters of the river she’d not even flinched at the sight. But, the slather of Kingsfoil upon her skin was, in fact, the color of vomit. This stirred her gut, her stomach rolling. The grass around her began to swirl as if she were intoxicated, eyes rolling in the back of her head. 

“Miss Aria!” A voice called to her. 

Little Mouse? Called another. 

Then, her world went dark. 

Chapter Text

“It was the middle of the afternoon before they noticed that great patches of flowers had begun to spring up, all the same kinds growing together as if they had been planted. Especially there was clover, waving patches of cockscomb clover, and purple clover, and wide stretches of short white sweet honey-smelling clover. There was a buzzing and a whirring and a droning in the air. Bees were busy everywhere. And such bees! Bilbo had never seen anything like them.” – The Hobbit, JRR Tolkien. 

“You do not belong here, my child,” A sweet, almost angelic voice caressed her. She gasped, her lungs filling with air. “You must awaken.” 

“I cannot,” She responded. Her voice sounded too far away. There was too much of an echo. “Where am I?” 

No one answered. 

Her world spun, her mind melting into a sea of darkness and her undoing. She’d yet to fully grasp that she was in nothing. There wasn’t a blade of grass nor a breath of wind to stir her mind. All she could hear was a pressing silence so loud that she knew she was dead. 

Yet, death resulted in various things. A plethora of outcomes were supposed to happen when one passed away. One of which was the quite possibly the worst fate she could ask for herself. The other could have been her salvation. Instead, she found herself floating. Weightless and without solid mass. 
“Little Mouse? A voice echoed throughout her being, sending tremors through her soul. It sounded curious if not annoyed. “What are you doing here?” 

She would have fancied a gaze around her if there was something to gaze at. No corporeal forms surrounded her as the voice did and nothing but blackness engulfed her. It was deep, almost dark and thick with masculinity. She wished to see whoever had spoken to her for she seemed to know them. Sometimes the voice would come to her while her mind trailed away. Of late, it had been silent. He had been silent. 

“I don’t know,” She answered him. “I had a wound and I was being examined. The last thing I knew, all was dark.” 

“You are weak,” The voice told her flatly, “You have endured too much and have sustained an injury that has poisoned you.” 

“Poison?” 

“Your friends will heal you,” The voice told her. “But, I will see you again. Please make sure it is not in this place.” 

“Wait…” She called, but nothing answered. She was left with the dark. 

Sounds began to trickle in like rain drops upon cement. They were murmurs at first, ebbing and flowing like the great waves of the sea. She could not understand them as she had the voice from before and they remained blurred for a bit. Eventually, she could grab bits and pieces of words. 

“Help…she…wake…heal…her,”

Then, her whole world burst into light. The air felt cool and she drank in the smell of grass and trees. Voices erupted all over her as if she’d had her ears plugged for far too long. Everything whirled and twisted, bodies milling about. She felt panic rise, her heart thumping and her temples throb. 

“Son.Of.A.Bitch.” She growled, her voice grating against her throat like gravel upon glass. 

The plethora of voices halted abruptly, silence seeming to deafen her. She was reminded of that darkness and she shuddered. As her body tremored, she was alerted to a spike of pain shooting through her leg. Did she have legs still? She attempted to wiggle her toes, feeling as if there was nothing at all. Her vision swam with too much as she attempted to make sure she still had legs. Seeing blurs of shapes and movement in her peripherals, she blinked against the pressure building in her mind. There were too many sounds, too much silence, and too many feelings. 

She was about to drown. 

Little Mouse, came a voice she knew. Find your balance. Breathe. 

Cub, another voice echoed through her pounding head. You must calm yourself. Take deep breaths. 

There were too many voices inside her mind. They crowded her, rolling her stomach as her temples throbbed more. She needed them gone. She needed them out! Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed the pain to leave her gulping at the sweet air like a beast starved. 

Then, a hand gripped her shoulder. It felt rough, almost calloused, but the steadiness seemed to ease her. A cold, wet object pressed against her cheek. She felt nothing but the cold object and the hand upon her person. She breathed deeply, sliding her eyes closed again. Taking the advice of The Stranger, she breathed in the air and attempted to find her balance. 

There were various noises, various voices. They were all male and they were close. There were at least two inside her head, one of which seemed far away. The other pressed against her own mind dripping with worry so overwhelming that she felt it within her own heart. There were demands, questions, and other things being thrown about and at her. Yet, the hand upon her shoulder squeezed and she could breathe again. It was no larger than that of a toddlers. 

Bilbo.

She reached up shakily with her own hand to grip his. A silent thank you. He’d allowed her to clear her mind, to drink in the scent of the air. After the voices died down, most likely awaiting a response from her, she gained a rhythm in her breathing once again and allowed her heart to pace itself. 

“Miss Aria?” A voice, Fili’s, prodded for answers. “How do you fare?” 

She opened her eyes, glancing upward to seek him. A shadow fell upon her, and the figure of someone with locks of hair and heavy armor backlit by the brilliant sun stood before her. She was thankful for the shade and blinked into the blue gaze of Thorin. 

“You fainted.” He stated more out of curiosity and worry than belittlement. “ To repeat my nephew: how do you fare?” 

“Terribly.” She snorted. Tane pressed his muzzle into her arm again. “For some reason, something in the Kingsfoil didn’t work for me.” 

“I don know ‘bout tha.” Oin leaned toward her, ear trumpet facing her to hear her properly. “It usually never has much effect on my patients.” 

“She’s not from here,” Thorin lifted his gaze from hers to his healer’s. “It might have effected her because she is not native to Arda.” 

“I don’ think tha’s the problem, sir.” Oin blinked at the wound. “I believe she might be suprisin’ us with something far different.” 

She glanced between Thorin and Oin with narrowed eyes. “What do you mean?” 

Thorin’s expression mirrored her own, his eyes flicking toward her before locking back to the healer. It was obvious to her that Oin knew something and she wasnt sure who else comprehended what the healer kept to himself. She feared the knowledge slightly, curiosity nipping at the edge of that fear at a possibility of a history she’d not known before. Something about her past that felt just within reach no matter how small of a thought or fleeting statement it was. 

But, it seemed, Oin wished to withhold his information. Whether it be because he still wished to research it fully before answering the questions written within their gazes or be secretive and use the information for another time, she wasn’t sure. It annoyed her that information seemed just within reach, but she also knew that she couldn’t show desperation. There were various incidences in which it would fault her and cause her issues. It other cases, she could foretell a little that it would give the impression that she knew more than she wanted to show. 

Deep down within her, at the very cusp of her core, she knew she could trust these dwarves. She’d seen how they cared for each other and Bilbo. No matter how many times she’d felt their curious stares before the events of the mountain and even when she’d done what she’d done during the battle, she knew she could trust them. If she dug through the hardened shell and armor she’d built over years of abuse and hardship, she knew she could shed it around most of them. Thorin was a different story. She was still trying to figure him out. 

However, there were certain things she didn't even know about herself that she couldn’t spare them finding out. Various images from past movies she’d seen flickered in her mind’s eye. Stories of the main character revealing some sort of power and being shunned for it. She felt the deep, deep sorrow of a possibility of that occurring.

Oin waved off the questions in his leader’s gaze, blowing a raspberry at the thought. “ Don’ worry ‘bout it too much. It might not be anythin’ an’ she’s fine now. I will take my leave.” He lowered his gaze to Aria, bushy eyebrows lifting. “Young lady, stay safe. I don’ ‘ave much Kingsfoil left to patch you up again.” 

In any situation, she would have been worried about angering the only being among them that might have been able to help her heal. However, she knew Oin held no ill will toward her. She had done nothing to cause such a thing. So, if anything, he was simply poking fun at her as well as giving her a friendly reminder that she should watch herself. He wouldn’t always be there to resuscitate her again. 

He turned to go, leaving Tane, Thorin, and her alone in silence. She heard her heart steadily beating against her chest, the wind causing the tendrils of hair to tickle her temples. Thorin still held her ankle in his rough hands, starring down at it as if it were glowing. She glanced at the mess upon her skin, narrowing her eyes at the goop that had been mixed and applied to the wound. Then, she noticed that it was, in fact, glowing. 

“That’s what it does to beings with magical abilities,” Thorin explained. “It seems that you have something inside of you that is not native to your Earth.” 

She wished for him to go further into detail, but right as she prepared herself to inquire, he gently placed her foot down and rose to his feet. Thorin stepped away from her and announced that they needed to prepare themselves to leave. A beat or two after this announcement, he turned back to her and nodded. 

“Miss Jackson, you will need aid in traveling.” Thorin stated, “Do you wish one of us to help or your Warg?” 

She blinked, narrowing her eyes in confusion. However, the answer was plain and clear to her and she simply nodded. She hated to rely on the elder Warg, but she didn’t know how bad the ankle actually was now that it had been touched by some sort of healing property. She sighed, her bones aching with the thought of her ultimate dread coming to fruition. She was now slowing them down. 

“Is it that bad, still?” She asked, eyes flicking downward toward the wound in question. “Can I really not walk?” 

“It appears you cannot.” Thorin told her flatly. “You will have to rely on your Warg.” 

As if on cue, and against her initial balking within her mind of the idea, she felt a cool nose upon her arm. A pair of teal eyes blinked at her and she smiled and shook her head. Of course he’d be there, right next to her, awaiting to provide aid. He would, until his dying day and deep within her gut she knew she didn't deserve such loyalty. She never would. 

Thank you, my friend. She touched his massive forehead, running her fingers through the smooth fur and along the bridge of his nose. I can always count on you. 

I will always do my best to protect you, Cub. He blinked, tilting his head and lowering his massive ears submissively. You gave me freedom and a reason to keep going. I believe I owe you. 

You don’t owe me anything, She shook her head. 

His eyes brewed with an argument, but the band began to show signs of movement and she prepared herself for the ride. 

“Right,” A voice caused her to turn. Bilbo’s eyes were bright, dark circles under them indicating he’d not rested as he should have. “The others are preparing to move. Are you fit to travel, Miss Aria?” 

She blinked at him, his gaze roving over her ankle. He bent down, retrieved her shoe, and held to it tight. Tane lowered himself to the grass, allowing for an easier time mounting. With eyes reading that of haste, Bilbo strode to her and indicated he would help her. She situated herself upon the grass, the tiny being gripping her arm as she placed her un-injured leg upon the ground and allowed the Hobbit to lift her as best he could. He was strong for how small he was and she smiled to herself. 

Though he may be small, he is mighty. She told herself. Tane brushed against her mind in agreement. She situated herself atop the Warg with Bilbo situated behind. The Hobbit handed her bag and she held it close with one arm as she gripped onto Tane. Soon after they began their journey once again. 

The air remained cool as they stepped along the path with Gandalf and Thorin in the lead. No one spoke and the only sound was that of the  birdsong fluttering upon the breeze. Atop her Warg, she could see everyone else as they trudged on. Guilt nibbled upon her heart, reaching inky tendrils outward to her limbs. She wanted to join them on the ground, feel the soil under the soles of her tennis shoes. She gripped the one in her hand, the one that had covered the foot of the injured ankle, until her knuckles blanched. 

She hated special treatment. She’d not grown use to it even if her grandmother had praised her and treated her kindly. She’d steeled herself in the years after, forcing her emotions down to an almost undetectable level. She’d not been helped when she’d fallen. She’d not received any praise for when she’d succeeded. She’d not been awarded for good deeds or things she’d been able to overcome. She’d fought her own wars, won them, and gotten beaten for it. The injury, the time she’d taken away from their journey, bred guilt deep within her that clawed and bit at her and she couldn’t help feel that pain. 

Tane’s mind brushed with hers just before the sweat beaded upon her forehead. He was a calm to her storm, a soothing balm to a blazing burn. There was something else in there as well and she knew who it was even before she felt their signature brushing of their psyche. She ignored them, choosing to resist the urge to speak to them. They would only ask monotone questions lacking any hint of emotion and it would perturb her. 

Silently, in her own mind, she thanked the Warg for his reassurance. 

After a few more hours of travel, the party was met by a sudden sound upon the air. Gandalf halted at the head of their caravan, the others looking about with saucer shaped eyes. Tane stopped and Aria straightened, listening intently as the sound seemed to vibrate the very atmosphere around her and the others. In modern Earth mind, she associated the noise to that of an airplane. It didn’t sound akin to the huge air-liners but more so those used in the World Wars. Curiosity piqued her interest, Tane following suit as he pushed himself forward toward the head of the group. 

“What in Arda is that noise?” Thorin narrowed his gaze, eyes roaming all around them. His hand, Aria noticed, gripped the hilt of his sword. 

Aria and the rest of the company couldn’t answer. Instead, they continued on toward the noise as Gandalf pushed forward. Aria felt no malice from the sound. If anything, it gave a strong hum that seemed to remind her of home. It was somewhat calming albeit slightly unnerving. It heavily reminded her of a type of insect she respected but also one that society labeled as dangerous. 

Eventually, the group entered a massive area filled with flowers of all types. Their colors almost glowed in brilliant purples and whites that blanketed the ground before them. A brilliant red flower spread about as well, Balin leaning in to Aria to inform her that it was cockscomb clover. In fact, most of the flowers seemed to have been a type of clover, he said. 

However, that wasn’t the main source of their shock. Even if the area appeared to have been manually planted and not simply allowed voluntarily grow there, something else entirely seemed to catch the group off guard if not bring them to full alert. It was, apparently, the source of the droning thrum they’d heard earlier. 

Bees. Large, yellow and black bees swarmed all over the patches of clover. In her mind, she associated their size akin to labrador retrievers. Thick, fuzzy abdomens  wiggled as the insects dove from patch to patch in search of nectar. Clumps of buttery yellow pollen hung upon their rear limbs, dustings of the it covering the rest of their bodies. Their wings gleamed in the evening sun like pastel stain glass windows and Aria found herself entranced by their massive beauty. 

“Look at tha size ‘o those creatures!” Gloin exclaimed from behind her.

“If they were to sting me,” Bilbo nervously stated behind her. “I would surely explode.” 

Aria shook her head. “I don’t they are the menacing type.” 

“What makes you think that, Miss Aria?” He asked, gripping her around the waist tighter as one flew a little too close for comfort. 

She wasn’t quite sure how to answer his question. On one hand, she knew the type of bees that primarily collected pollen were the types that could die if they sting a creature. If she were correct, those were bumblebees soaring above their heads and busying themselves with the collection of pollen. 

On another hand, however, she was not very familiar with the fauna of Middle Earth. The bees before them could possibly become hostile and they would all be in great danger. She wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. This was not her home and quite possibly, these were not the animals she had been familiar with. 

Only Gandalf seemed to know exactly the information they needed. His eyes gleamed with a understanding, a knowledge the company didnt share. Not until Balin asked. The wizard seemed to shake himself from his thoughts, a pleasant but tired smile forming upon his ancient face. 

“We are getting close to his home, Master Balin.” He stated. “This is the edge of his bee-pastures. We must camp for the night and gather supplies. On the morrow, we will approach our future host two by two as not to overwhelm him.” 

“Overwhelm him?” Thorin narrowed his gaze. “What can that possibly mean, Gandalf?” 

Gandalf’s eyes read something Aria couldn’t quite place for a moment. She felt an overbearing sense of caution, almost dread, upon the air. She tasted the warnings Gandalf wanted to say like one would taste the bitterness of cough syrup before pinching the nose and taking a swig. A feeling of unease curdled in her stomach and she gripped her tennis shoes a little harder. 

“Our host can be a bit…” Gandalf’s eyes shifted upward as he searched for better words. “Moody.” 

“Moody?” Fili exclaimed before Bofur’s hand clapped over his mouth. 

“Aye, Master Fili.” The wizard nodded. 

The group seemed to pause for a moment, breaths hitched and minds whirling. Aria couldn’t help but try to remember who the mysterious, and dangerous, host – to – be might have been from the story. She didn’t recall much from this section, perhaps she’d not listened to that part, and drew a blank. 

“Just what are you about to expose my company to, wizard?” Thorin growled, his eyes flitting to me before returning to the elder. 

“I am exposing you to nothing. Our future host is very generous but he is also very…” His eyes narrowed as he sought out a word. “Unpredictable.” 

“Who is he?” Came another question. Dori.

“Now, now,” Gandalf began. A drone much louder than the bees seemed to sweep the group as a flurry of questions barraged the wizard. Aria sat back on Tane as angry and confused inquiries swarmed them. Then, Tane strode forward before them all and Aria straightened in her seat. 

“One human is not enough to hurt all of us depending on their strength.” Aria’s eyes narrowed, the questions seemed to die down as she crossed her arms over her chest. “ Which means he is not human. What is he, Gandalf?” 

The group seemed to pause for a moment after she spoke. Her question hung in the air like wet, heavy clothes. More nasty, thick unease meandered through them and Aria starred down the indecisive and almost unnerving wizard for an answer. 

“He’s…uh…” Gandalf stumbled. “He’s a Skin Changer.” 

A shocked gasped ran rampant through the group. She’d never heard of one before, not even if she’d listened fully to the story. However, if she judged the reaction of the very mentioning of what their future host was, she could conclude that it wasn’t good. She’d detected the hints of uncertainty in Gandalf’s voice and feared that their soon to be host was not what he seemed to be. Was all of their lives in danger? 

“He’s under some spell!” Bofur exclaimed. “He’s workin’ for tha goblins an’ thos nasty orcs!” 

“He will eat us all!” Dori cried, throwing his hands into the air. 

“Quiet down you lot.” Gandalf boomed. “He is under no enchantment but his own. Now, get to moving. We need to set up camp near those trees.” Gandalf stated, stalking off with an exasperated sigh. 

Could you follow him? Aria asked of Tane while the dwarves attempted to shake themselves from their shock and begin setting up for the night. 

Tane nodded, sauntering after the wizard. He stopped at the edge of some very ancient appearing trees while the bees droned behind them. He stood stoically staring out beyond as the sun’s light as it bathed golden light upon the thick trunks. She couldn’t see any farther than a few of them, the tree line dense and dark where the light did not penetrate. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Miss Aria?” Gandalf asked with his back to her. His voice seemed tired but he held no annoyance at her approach. 

“What is a Skin Changer?” Tane halted and she slid carefully from his back. The Warg worried for a moment but she calmed him. “Why were they so upset about learning he was one?” 

Gandalf turned to her  and she could see weariness and fatigue within his gaze. He appeared so old right then and so tired. Fatigue seeped heavily from the lines on his face while he sighed. She limped to him with help from Tane, standing with shoulders squared. 

“A skin changer is what you would refer to from your world as a shifter. Sometimes he is a great, massive black bear and sometimes he is a huge man with a beard.” 

“Sometimes?” Aria quirked a brow. 

“It would depend on his mood, I believe, that would determine how we meet him.” Gandalf sighed. “I hope, for our sake, it is the man. He is by far easier to get along with.” 

“Are there more of him? Or is he the only one here?” 

Gandalf gazed out into the wood again. “He is the only one here but that is his story to tell if he wishes it as to why.” 

Aria matched his gaze, thoughts rolling. “I think I’m going to gather wood for a fire. Would having one be a safe idea tonight?” 

Gandalf faced her. “I believe so. These are his woods and his lands. We must still take caution, but we are safe for now.” 

She returned to the group atop her Warg, informing the others of her intent. Thorin showed concern, but Tane’s gaze reassured the dwarf that she would be protected. Bilbo offered himself as an aid and companion and she accepted, allowing him to climb upon her wolf and head opposite of Gandalf’s location. 

They found an area littered with dead twigs and plenty of tinder a little further than they wished to go. It seemed peaceful, however, and all three individuals did not worry too much. The black trunks of the great trees to their left reminded Aria of an enormous wall between her current route and the next step of their journey. A darkness clung there as ancient as the mountains in Middle Earth but she felt no malice from it. It was old and set in its ways somewhat like their soon-to-be host and she wondered if she would be able to reason with the beast or man. 

“I am concerned about this skin changer Gandalf speaks of.” Bilbo stated as he slipped from Tane’s back to begin gathering branches and fodder for the fire. He began handing her some as he went. “I sure hope he likes dwarves, a human, a Warg, and a hobbit showing up on his doorstep.” 

“I sure hope so as well.” Aria stated, blinking at the dried wood within her grasp. She still held onto her shoe in the other hand, wishing she could simply slip it onto her foot with no issue. Her injury didn't sting nor did it cross her mind again. 

“Do you believe he will help us?” Bilbo asked, handing her some more large twigs. “I am having a terrible time believing anyone would.” 

She gave him a small smile. In a way, she understood his concern. Their mission, the dwarves’ mission, seemed almost impossible to comprehend. She couldn’t imagine those born and raised in Middle Earth who knew the story and had lived in the age where dragon’s hoarded gold and burned down cities to understand the legitimacy of their quest. It would be comparable to her becoming a singer when she knew nothing of the industry. Sure, she loved to sing. At times, people had praised her for her voice when they’d gotten to hear it. That was a rarity and she’d not used it since she’d been in foster care. 

Still, there was an impossible air about their quest. She knew it to be far older than she as was the mysterious dwarf leader. She only recalled bits a pieces of what her grandmother’s story had spoken of. Yet, She knew nothing of the past and nothing of what Erebor meant to them. If she happened to guess, it would mean to her whatever her grandmother’s home had meant. It was a distant memory albeit a sacred one and one she found herself losing connection with each day no matter how important it should have been. 

She had to keep positive, however. For Bilbo’s sake. He was like a brother to her and her heart already bled for him. He was strong, determined, and faithful but he was also in a new portion of this world that he’d never known. He didn't need her protection but neither did she. They were there for each other, they had met each other, for a reason. She didn't blame him if he doubted others. She’d not seen much kindness since she’d arrived. She’d had to earn it, in a way. 

“Normally, I would give you some speech that is supposed to help boost your confidence.” She stated with a sigh. “But, I really don’t know. In a way, I would say that Gandalf’s mystery host would help us. He doesn’t owe us that, however. He may choose not to. From there, we have to figure out what to do next.” 

Bilbo nodded, understanding within his warm eyes. “I guess you’re right.” 

They finished gathering enough wood to last most of the night, both deciding it was time to turn back and return to camp. By that time, it had grown darker. The sun was but a pale orange strip along the horizon, pink and deep purple stretching into the sky as it sank lower and lower out of sight. A hint of stars peeped through the fading light, twinkling like diamonds through a translucent gauze. She sat behind Bilbo, holding onto him as he gripped Tane’s fur in his small hands. The night was quiet around them, the steady noise of woodland life a comforting din in all directions. Aria shivered as they passed the black trees that stood like dark sentinels against the impending night. For a moment, she swore she heard them whispering. 

Aria didn’t wish to panic in that moment. However, while they had strayed too far from the group, she assumed they wouldn’t make it with daylight still aiding their trek. Her heart hammered in her chest with dread, stomach sinking to her feet. Tane felt her distress, his muzzle lifting to the air as if to scent the others. He took a path she couldn’t see and she thanked him. He was more skilled for the night than she and less afraid. 

For a moment, it was quiet and tranquil. A light breeze ruffled her hair, causing it to fan across her shoulders. The steady padding of Tane’s large paws upon the forest floor kept her calm. It wasn’t too soon after their initial departure when she felt Bilbo grow heavy against her. A slight snore slipped from his lips and his weight fell against her. 

He’s asleep, Tane chuckled. 

Poor guy, She responded. This is probably the most relaxed he’s been this entire trip.

I do not blame him. Tane replied. It feels as if neither one of us have slept soundly. 

Tane wasn’t wrong and, on instinct, she held the Hobbit a little tighter as they continued on. Her nerves felt frazzled and she began humming a tune from Earth that her grandmother had sang to her long ago. She wasn’t sure if its tune would work to lower her stress, but it didn't matter. It felt good to shake the rust from her voice. Tane swiveled his ears and a contented sensation flowed between them. She felt the prickle of The Stranger there as well, listening with rapture as she softly began to sing the words. 

Suddenly, Tane halted and she silenced. She felt the quick alertness like an icy chill mingling with the hairs that stood erect at her nape. The Warg’s gaze bored into the depths ahead of them, his sides heaving as the alertness turned to unease. It coiled thickly, flirting along the edge of fear. She didn't want to feel that. She didn’t want any of them to feel it. Anything could sense it as it seeped through the depths of the night. Any creature. 

Then, something cracked ahead of them. It seemed close in the inky darkness and Tane’s hackles raised. The air around them vibrated with power and just enough to where Aria could taste its bitterness. Aria held Bilbo tighter, the Hobbit still asleep and unaware. She thought of rousing him but threw that idea from her mind. Where they simply hearing things? It was no doubt the trials of their previous endeavors had every right to finally take its toll upon their minds. 

However, Tane would not be alert at a mere figment of their imagination. He was smart and held far greater senses than she. She couldn’t deny his what his mind or his body screamed silently. He wanted to run. He wanted to flee. Something dangerous lurked in the darkness before them. 

To her horror, the unease bloomed into fear. It encapsulated her mind, blinding her for a moment to where all she could sense and feel was the need to fly away. It iced through her veins and she wanted so dearly to shake, to become invisible to whatever monstrosity had caused such a feeling. 

A low, guttural sound vibrated through the shadows to crawl up her spine. It seemed to surround them on every side, sending tremors up through Tane’s paws and causing chills to ran rampant across her skin. Sweat beaded her forehead, her heart thundering against her breast bone. She strained to see anything in the darkness but failed, her own fear curdling like spoiled milk in her belly. 

The shadows came alive before them, suddenly, and a hulking form detached itself from the darkness to lumber forward at them. For a moment, Aria feared it to be an orc scout that had discovered them. Various scenarios flashed through her head and she wondered just how fast Tane would go if a party of them awaited orders beyond their sight. 

 However, as the form drew nearer, it grew in size and became far larger than anything she’d seen right. A deep, terrifying rumble sent shivers of terror through her and all she wished to do in that moment was turn Tane and run. 

Narrowed, dark eyes speared through the blackness as the creature approached. Its paws, which appeared to be the size of Tane’s head, were tipped with ebony claws the length of her hand that scraped the leaf strewn ground, leaving gouges deep within the soil. Silver strings of drool distended from its fang filled maw and Aria couldn't help but notice the scars that cleaved the ebony fur of its face. Another rumble tore through the quiet of the night, the creatures that had once sang their songs earlier long gone. 

We need to go! Aria hissed at her companion. Maybe it’s just warning us. 

No, Tane replied. We are in his territory. We have made a grave mistake. Its up to him what mood he is in today. 

Aria drank in the scent of the forest, her heart thundering in her ears. Her grip tightened on Bilbo who had yet to stir. While in Middle Earth, She’d seen various things that horrified her. She accepted them and moved on. Even as she almost died countless times and had fought for her life more than she ever had before, she had never felt so much fear as she did then. Solutions played within her mind, fluttering like butterfly wings, but all came to one conclusion. Fleeing was not an option. They were too tired to push themselves that far. 

In the end, it was up to the great black bear before them if they lived or died. 

Chapter Text

“All have their worth and each contributes to the worth of the others.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion

The bear’s wicked snarl tore through the tranquil woodland surrounding them. Tane lowered his ears in submission, knowing full well when his powers were matched. Slowly, the Warg backed away, his chest brushing against the leaf strewn ground. The beast seemed to notice this, a lip quivering upward to reveal long fangs. Its claws dugs into soil, deep trenches forming within the earth. She heard twigs break under the pressure, the sound reminding her of bones and she felt herself go numb. 

She noted quickly that the thing appeared bred for war. Its formidable visage stood tall with large, hulking shoulders layered in a thick coat of ebony fur. Its skin gleamed with scars as it quivered with each step forward. The beast was an ancient, battle savvy creature and Aria knew immediately that it wasn't a normal bear. If Aria were honest with herself, she knew this thing was not a bear at all. It was something else entirely. 

Aria was at a loss. Her mind had blanked moments ago at the very sight of the creature, something within its gaze capturing her and rendering her bodily function null. Tane seemed to have done the same, weighing his options within their bond as to what they should do. He had practically screamed that they could not flee, but what options were there other than that? They could wait for the others, but without the knowledge of their location, they were lost. 

As if to signal where the camp had been erected, a din of laughter peeled through the night air. The bear lifted its large skull, turning its gaze away from the two before it, and sniffed the breeze that fluttered through the branches. Immediately, Tane’s thoughts shifted and began flooding her. They had a chance. A mere second to turn and run while the beast was preoccupied. She agreed. 

The plan was on. 

Her Warg wasted no time. In the breath of a second, Tane pivoted with great speed upon a rear paw and blasted away from the where they had heard the laughter. The breeze was cool upon her cheeks as they ripped their way through the trees. Behind them, the bear roared in anger. The din sent razor claws of vibration down her spine,but Aria did not look back to see if it pursued. She knew in her soul that it had. 

The laughter halted and all Aria could think of doing was scream. But she held her tongue. If anything, screaming would only signal the dwarves to her sudden predicament. She’d risk having them come to her rescue and possibly promise danger. She couldn’t have that. It was just enough of a worry that Tane and Bilbo were involved and she feared their impending doom on the paws of the great monster behind them. 

Little by little while they flew, Aria’s fear faded and the urge to survive bloomed. There was no use in housing terror for very long. If anything, it would smell it seeping through her pores and would only wish to devour her more. She needed to think, to clear her mind. 

But, where could they go to fight the thing? Tane wasn’t familiar with the area and she could sense he had no idea on where to lure the beast. It held an advantage in the local topography and could outwit them at any turn. 

A brilliant white light erupted to her right. It illuminated the darkness and things within its grasp, shooing the shadows away to reveal the massive beast and the forest they’d ended up within. A figure stood under an opening free of trees or shrubs, brandishing the source of the sudden light high above their head. From what she could see, the figure was tall and humanoid. Tane noticed them as well, silently assessing with her what they should do. 

Should we go to them? He asked quickly. 

Yes. She replied. We have no choice. 

A loud snarl pierced the quiet night and she felt the hot breath of the bear upon her nape. The thunder of the thing shook the earth around them all just as Tane swerved to miss a razor bladed paw swiping above their heads. The Warg turned toward the source of the light, busting over shrubs and thickets as fast as he possibly could. It was quicker than the bear could turn, it seemed, and the angry roar that met their decision tore through the night. 

“Come to me, Miss Aria!” A deep voice she knew sliced clearly through the blinding light. “We are almost to his home! We can fend him off from there!” 

Him? 

She had no time to meddle with those thoughts, the aforementioned creature reducing the distance between her and it with unseen speed. She could feel Tane’s exhaustion through their bond, sense how every muscle and bone ached. Yet, he still pushed himself forward and toward the light with his sworn oath of protecting her fueling him like spark to a flame. As the light sliced through the darkness, a fleeting thought reminded a soul passing on and reaching for the light at the end of the tunnel. Was this to be the fate she was to meet? 

She growled to herself. Not this time. 

Gandalf’s serious gaze met hers as he turned to run forward. In the distance, and not too far from where the camp had been set, was a looming building made of dark wood. The dwarves were there awaiting her arrival as Tane passed through was seemed like a giant doorway. On either side of them rose a gigantic stretch of hedge that went on as far as she could see. They flew through the gateway, past Gandalf, and in front of the building. Tane turned, facing the oncoming bear as its dark shape swiftly closed the distance between it and the entryway. The dwarves jumped in to aid the wizard as Gandalf hurriedly began his attempt to shut the doors. Aria flinched as the great bear collided with the barrier, its snout bursting through the narrowing gap. Its maw snapped with horrid clacks, spraying silvery drool all about them. Thorin, Fili, Kili, and Dwalin heaved themselves into the wood, the others joining. They cried out while the massive beast tore and pushed at the gates. Aria drank in the air around her, filling her lungs and her brain with the determination she needed. She was injured, of course, but that didn’t help the fact that her comrades were in need. As the bear rammed into the door even more, Aria feared it would shatter. After all, the creature attempted to ram itself against it in hopes the wood would splinter. But, it seemed the monstrous door had been built with such beasts in mind. 

Aria slipped from Tane’s back, her ankle smarting. She felt Tane’s worry for her a passing thought within her head as she limped toward the others. The least she could do was aid them. Fierce, fearful eyes met hers and widened even more at the sight of her gimping form. Many protests were shouted across at her but she ignored them all. When she met the wooden door and the bear smashing against it, she narrowed her gaze at the creature. For a moment, a brief moment that she swore later lasted eons, the beast met her gaze. In that gaze, all she could see was something unhinged yet sentient. Something almost human. 

He was not in control of himself. 

Aria understood that now. This was their beasital host and he could not help who he was. This thought did little to aid them as he continued to roar and push the levels of her companions strength by bashing into the gates. She turned her shoulder toward a free area and pushed against it with all she had. The wood was cold and rough through the fabric of her hoodie as she pressed against it, her muscles screaming as she put her entire being into keeping the beast at bay. Each shaking blow on the opposite side sent tremors through her body, rattling her bones and igniting pain in places she’d wished it wouldn't. 

Then, suddenly, everything stopped. The air fell silent all around but for the heaving breaths of her and the rest of the company. Dwalin cursed in dwarfish under his breath but remained with his shoulder braced against the door. Aria remained as well, drinking the delicious air like a thirsty desert goer. She let her eyes wonder wildly through the company and witnessed the sweat streaked faces and the fearful gazes. Thorin moved and the rest followed, his eyes settled fiercely upon the wizard. 

“What the name of the Valar was that?” Thorin boomed in anger. His clear blues were daggers through the crisp night air. 

Gandalf eyed the dwarf king under from under his large hat. He, too, inhaled greatly. “That, Master Thorin, would be our host.” 

The entire company erupted in exasperations, various aggressive words being spat as well as exclamations of doubt. Aria rolled her eyes, turning from the giant doors and limping to Tane who seemed to watch the disgruntled company with amusement. His mind probed hers for any injury or ailment, but she shook her head. Listening to the company’s’ bereavements seemed to addle her brain and caused her annoyance. They had known, or should’ve known, what a skin changer was capable of. Gandalf had mentioned that he was unpredictable, even dangerous. He was massive and angry and they had wondered into his territory. 

On the other hand, and one that concerned her, was that she had started the entire ruckus. She’d not been careful and had allowed herself to stumble upon the great beast blindly. If she would have been paying attention, he could have been avoided. She was lucky no one had died or had been seriously injured. 

Tane turned his head from watching the group’s protest to glance behind him. She’d forgotten about the passenger upon his back and it appeared that he had as well. With a start, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Bilbo, who had slumped upon Tane’s back and remained there miraculously, began to stir. His eyes opened and he rubbed them, glancing around tiredly. Aria was then reminded of a little kid and her fondness of the Hobbit only grew. 

“What in Yavannah’s name is going on?” Bilbo yawned. “Why do you all look like you have just been chased by a demon?” 

All sound fell and Aria noticed the gazes of the others as they regarded the sleepy Hobbit who had, apparently, been none the wiser to their entire ordeal. In that moment, all resolve broke within the girl and all she could do was laugh. The sound played upon the hedge wall, echoing from the walls of the great structure. It uncoiled from her belly, releasing the tension like a spring unleashed. It felt good and it felt solid. Before she knew it, her eyes began to water and she sighed while the last giggles slipped from her dried lips. 

“Oh, Bilbo.” She shook her head, his eyes wide now with concern and wonder. “You have missed so much.” 

“You can fill him in inside,” Gandalf stated, approaching her from the right. “We must gain entry to his home before he comes back.” 

“Are we even allowed inside?” Aria turned to the wizard. “Breaking and entering is frowned upon in my world. I would guess it is here, too.” 

“We will sleep in the stables over there,” He pointed to a structure directly linked to the largest building of the home. “As long as we don’t harm his livestock, we will be fine.” 

Aria felt doubtful, but she followed nonetheless. The thought of being outside with their beastly host caused a shiver to rake up her spine. Tane quickly trotted after the wizard who swiftly covered the distance between the gateway and another set of large, double doors made of wood. The air was silent and crisp around them, the sounds of various animals beyond the door and Aria was whisked back with ferocity to her grandmothers home, her home, and the livestock she encountered there. She’d missed the smells and the everything that came with them. 

Aria wiped at her face, noticing small streams of warm tears streaking her face. Tane bumped her shoulder, reaching out to assess what ailed her. She met his probing mind with a sigh. I’m fine. 

He remained silent albeit watchful of her emotions while they approached the large doors. She glanced around at the grounds encircling them, but the night was deep and the shadows inky black. A faint hue of firelight danced against what appeared to be flowers, the orange cast by the flames from within flickering upon what could have been roses and daisies. Aria wished then to survive the night long enough to see what wonders the sun could reveal the next morning. 

“We are safe in here, are we not?” Thorin growled at the wizard suddenly, eyes wide as he glanced around them. Clear blues landed on her and she clutched Bilbo. 

“We are as safe as we can be for the moment. Once we enter,” Gandalf turned to them, “We must find beds appropriate for us and remain there no matter what sounds we hear.”

The company exchanged worried looks between themselves but Aria’s gaze remained fixed upon the dwarf prince’s sharp eyes. His lips pressed themselves firmly together and she wondered just what raced through his mind. Then, he shifted his eyes to the wizard who pressed against the large doors in an attempt to open them. 

With a loud groan, they swung inward. The aroma of cattle, horses, and chickens immediately hit her and she drank it in. Flashes of Oklahoma prairies flickered within her mind, great dirty blond hills rising and falling like the sides of a great beast. She would watch them with wonder from the passenger side of her grandmother’s old Ford and wonder how far they could go without breaking into trees or cities. 

The company surged in, Tane following quickly to get his charge out from under the wicket night. There were hushed voices all over but she understood none of it. She, instead, focused upon the internals of their temporary accommodations with a slack jaw and widened eyes. 

The interior of the stables was, for lack of a better term, immaculate. Not an ounce of litter, feed, or bedding lay un-swept or stinking in a pile somewhere. The aroma itself was pleasant, causing her mind to reel with memories she’d chosen to forget long ago. The ceiling vaulted high above them at least twenty feet. Stretching and strapped between the gaps were large support beams dotted with ropes and other farm utensils. The tools, along with most of the barn, gave the impression that each were made of an ancient, dark wood she thought to be oak or something similar. 

The stalls stretched at least half a dozen on both sides. Within them were various bovines that were akin to the Scotch Highland cattle of home. She heard the snort of a horse, searching the area to find some that were not stalled. They were tall, beautiful things with waving manes and tails. Their coats were piebald, black and brown, their legs thick with feathers shrouding their hooves. Aria was once again reminded of horses from home. Gypsy Vanners, wasn’t it? She wasnt sure. 

The horses turned to them, there were only a few, before lifting their great heads and nodding with wild eyes. She felt then as if they were not normal equines. In fact, their gazes were far more intelligent than what she was used to and held an air of wonder if not concern. Did they feel as if her company was not a threat? Again, she wasn’t sure. 

Soon, the beasts disappeared beyond her line of sight. The others were paying slight attention to their surroundings, eyes wide but tired. She watched the wizard while he picked his way along the stacks of straw. Using his staff, he kicked up a few bundles and placed them in spots that would suffice as bedding. Immediately upon witnessing the sight of the soft, golden straw bundled into a makeshift sleeping area, her body reminded her of how tired she was. She brushed her mind against Tane’s, wondering upon his situation. 

I grow tired as well, He responded. Sleep is very much a welcoming sight at the moment.

She nodded in agreement and Tane turned away from the wizard. As if to answer her question as to why, he informed her that he knew she wished to be away from the others just to dress her wounds and not cause any issue. She shrugged at this thought, knowing he wasnt far off. 

He found them an empty stall next to a particularly curious cow that crunched on a cud. Her eyes lingered lazily upon them for a moment, slowly blinking and gazing off while she chewed. Tane halted in front of the vacant space, allowing Bilbo and Aria to slip from his back. Bilbo attempted to help the girl as best he could and she readily thanked him for his kindness. He nodded. 

“Do you wish for me to stay with you or do you want to be alone?” He asked sheepishly like a small child to his parents. 

Aria smiled, her heart warming. “You can stay if you’d like or you can stay with them. Whatever you prefer.” 

Bilbo sighed and smiled. “I will stay with you then. You are far better company. However, let me go fetch us some light.” 

With that, the Hobbit turned in search of a source of light. She’d spotted lanterns about them made of metal and glass. She wondered on the safety of such things, but seeing as how the barn had not ignited was a cue to understand their unwelcoming host. A fire was not something he seemed to want and neither did she. 

Hobbling inside the stall, she fancied the open doorway that spanned a wide birth. Upon the floor were piles of straw, a water tub, and feed trough. The tub had long since been emptied, the feed as well, and Aria felt a twinge of sadness radiating from the area. She pondered on it for a moment, the sensation vibrant but fleeting like a butterfly in a swift wind. 

Had one of the animals been lost? 

Tane stepped beside her, eyeing the space with the same questions before curling around her to meet her gaze. Is this appropriate for rest? If we need to move…

Aria smiled. He was forever looking out for her. With a touch upon his forehead, she replied: If you are alright with it so am I. Anywhere to sleep that is safe is fine by me. 

The Warg agreed, studying where to lay before making two circles and slumping down upon the dusty wooden floor. Bilbo returned with a lantern swinging from his small hands. It appeared to be the size of his head and Aria chuckled at the comical way he held it in front of him cautiously. They all agreed to use the walls to lean upon, Tane insisting she rest near him and she obliged. 

She felt herself looking forward to sleeping inside for once, having not done that the previous time. With how surreal and feral it all felt to pass into slumber in the elements, she was not use to it. Having a roof over her head was a welcome feeling even if the absent host had tried to kill them. 

Or had he? She recalled his eyes and how deep they appeared to go. They were liquid pools of hazel and brown, mixing together like gold and oil. She’d witnessed the rage if not the horrid alertness of finding a trespasser but every thing she thought of indicated then and there that they were sentient and more intelligent than a normal bear. To her they were almost… 

Her mind wondered on what the wizard had told them. Sometimes, their host was a great bear. Sometimes a tall man. Was that what she saw within those eyes? The man? She pondered on what he was like as a person and how he would react to them while snuggling into the fur of Tane’s neck. The Warg chuffed, his beating heart a rhythmic drum against her cheek. Bilbo scooted close as well, Tane’s eyes following with an unamused expression. 

Then, she felt him finally give in and Aria snorted. 

“Come on, Bilbo.” She smiled, turning to him with an arm outstretched. “Get in here.” 

Bilbo didn’t need much else to persuade him. Even if the barn was much warmer than the outside temperature, the atmosphere still held a nip of cold that could not ne doused. Bilbo’s feet, which she wondered on ever getting cold, were her main concern. She let the question go, allowing it to fade as the exhaustion gripped her tight. 

“Is there anyone going on watch?” She asked. “Just in case the bear shows back up.” 

Bilbo nodded as he lay against Tane’s side. “I believe Dwalin insisted to take the first watch. The brothers are next. They agreed to leave you be and let you rest.” 

Aria nodded, wondering if she still should insist on helping. However, Bilbo shook his head at her questioning gaze. This perturbed her a bit and she hoped it wouldnt be a constant issue. Now that they had witnessed her injury and inability to walk, she felt useless and had been feeling that way since she’d acquired them. She only wished there was something else she could do. 

Cub, Tane’s voice was gruff like a parents. Your thoughts are too loud. You are not useless. This is but a mild setback. 

I know, she replied with a sigh. But I still want to do something. 

Then rest, my cub. He snorted. That is what you can do for them. You can rest and regain what strength you have lost. 

So, she did and allowed sleep to swiftly take hold. 

Her eyes fluttered open when the night felt older. It was not yet sunrise, she felt, but almost. She could hear the soft snores off to one side of her, her vision clearing to see the peaceful face of Bilbo as he slumbered. She smiled then, knowing it might be one of the only times he felt at ease. The steady rise and fall of her Warg was calming, his mind blank as well while he dreamed. 

She turned herself to look out at the aisle where the stalls faced each other. She heard the sounds of sleep from the others but wondered then who was on watch. Lifting herself up, she steadily got to her feet while using the wall of their space to keep her from falling over. They did not travel all of the way upward as normal building walls usually did. Instead, half of it had been taken out to allow someone or an animal to visage of the stalls on either side. Their bovine neighbor had settled down long ago, her head curled toward her toes in sleep. She, too, looked very peaceful. 

Aria turned away and hobbled out toward the walkway, using various things to keep her upright. Her bones felt brittle, muscles arguing as she carefully trekked onward. She wanted to vomit, her stomach clenching with the pain. But, she kept going. She wished to remove herself from the space, to see anything but wooden stall walls and straw for a moment. She wished to move. For some reason she wasn't aware of, she needed to. 

Using the other walls on either side of her, a stall door occasionally, she picked her  way along the aisle toward the area they had entered previously. It was a large, almost lobby type space with wide, expansive walls and various types of equipment set about. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of the various types of things handing from hooks or setting upon bales of hay, a pang within her heart, a wave of nostalgia crashed within her and brought her back home for a moment. The aroma of the straw and animals wafted around her and she drank it in. Shaking herself free of the memories, she moved on. 

She found the dwarves sprawled around the floor like dark blobs,  loud snores ringing through the quiet. Aria couldn’t help but chuckle silently to herself at the sight of the Kili and Dori fighting each other in their sleep for the best position, or Bofur hugging his weapon to himself while his mouth lay agape. It appeared that he was the source of the loudest snore among them. 

One was missing, however, and she wondered if he’d gone elsewhere to take his rest. As she turned, she was met by a giant, gaping window displaying a brilliant view of the night sky. Sparkling stars greeted her while they surrounded the bloated, silver moon. To one corner, propped upon the window sill, using a stack of hay bales as a seat, and gazing out into the night, was Fili. She hobbled as best she could toward him, wishing to join him in his silent reverie and possibly offer some sort of aid. 

“Ah,” Fili turned to her, gold hair gleaming in the light from above. “Miss Aria. What are you doing up? I thought you were resting.” 

“Well, I was until I couldn’t.” She gave him a slight smile. “I got restless I guess.” 

He nodded, moving himself and his weapon to the side as a silent gesture to join him. “I do the same. I told Uncle I would take watch since I felt like I wasn’t contributing any.” 

She blinked at him, slightly baffled. “You too?” 

“Me what?” he gave her a dignified look of confusion, eyes narrowed slightly as if he truly didn't understand. 

She smiled, shaking her head as she approached the window frame. It was large enough to house three of her setting upon its wide sill. “I mean, you are feeling the same way I am. I feel as if I am just useless. I haven’t done anything to help.” 

Fili narrowed his eyes at her, lips pressing together. “What have you not contributed, Miss Aria? You clearly have done quite a bit or you wouldn’t be injured.” 

She nodded. “I know, but it still feels as if I am some sort of liability.” 

“I don’t know what that word means, but you are not it.” He stated with a quick nod of his chin. “You single handedly fought the Pale Orc and his beast. You single handedly slayed that nasty thing.” He glanced from where she came, indicating where her Warg lay curled up and asleep. “Where I come from, that is not just anything.” 

She felt her cheeks heat and scoffed. “Yes, but anyone could have done that…” 

He clipped her shoulder with his, arms crossing over his broad chest. “Aye, but you were the one who did it. Not me nor Kee nor my uncle. You.” 

She glanced up at him, her eyes stinging slightly with unshed tears. “Thanks.” 

He chuckled, throwing an arm over her shoulder and reeling her in for a tight hug. She giggled as she relished in his warmth. “And do not get me started on what you did after that…” 

She waved him away with a silent chuckle as he released her. “That’s enough of that. My pride will be way too much to handle if you keep going.” 

He snorted, stepping away from her and turning to the window, eyes roaming the surrounding wall of hedges bordering the estate. “What matters, though, is that you saved us. You saved Uncle. That is more than what we can repay.” 

She glanced downward at her fingers as she wrung her hands. She’d saved their lives, of course, but she knew they would have protected their own.  They were more capable in battle, more engineered for fighting the enemy than she was. She’d never even held a sword before. Only a bow. The thought of being useless enough to not know her way around a weapon much stronger had left her disgusted. She chalked her entire ordeal to latent stupidity and dumb luck. 

“Don’t feel that way,” Fili suddenly ordered, bumping her gently in the shoulder again. She eyed him through her peripherals. “I know that look. Its not becoming of you.” 

She bit her lip, placing her hands upon the window sill to keep them from twisting. “I’m sorry. Is my doubt that obvious?” 

Fili turned to her, gripping her shoulder with his strong hand. She gazed into his eyes where sincerity and truth pooled there. “Never question your worth with me. You are more than what you believe yourself to be. I know this and so do the rest. It just takes them some time to warm up to someone new. Especially humans.” 

“Your doesn’t like me,” Aria scoffed, gazing outward into the night. “He can’t even look me in the eyes.” 

Fili laughed softly, mirth plain upon his face. “My little brother shot you. That’s why he can’t look you in the eye. He feels ashamed. Believe me, he looks up to you almost like an older sister.” 

Aria’s gaze whipped back toward the dwarf as he retracted his hand and crossed his arms over his chest. “What?” 

“It’s true. You remind us of our mother, the most ferocious of our kind. Her fire could never be doused. Neither can yours. He finds it fascinating and won’t quiet down about how great you held yourself on the mountain.” 

Aria’s gaze found the night air again, narrowing in disbelief. “You both consider me like a sister?” 

“Unofficially, of course.” He shrugged. “Dwarf customs require us to hold a formal induction.” 

“But why?” She narrowed her gaze, unsure of how to handle what she was hearing. 

Fili’s eyes softened and he smiled gently at her. “Because you saved our lives. You saved our uncle’s life. Anyone who saves the life of a dwarf, especially our line, is considered something to us.” 

“But to call me a sister?” She cocked her head, nothing making sense. 

Fili only beamed. “Well, I don’t believe you would fancy courting Fee or me? My uncle is a different story.” 

Aria’s eyes widened. “Courting? Oh lord.” 

Fili laughed softly again. “Then sister it is. Of course, we have to ask Uncle to approve and accept it. If he accepts, you are officially a sister. If he does not, it means he has other reasons.” 

“Oh, kiss that entire idea goodbye.” Aria scoffed. “Of all the company to dislike me, he’s the one who does the most. He most definitely will not approve of that.” 

“Then he would wish to court you.” Fili stated matter-of-factly. 

“Excuse me? What?” Aria sputtered, nearly toppling over onto the straw strewn ground. She couldn’t believe her ears. “Court me?” 

“If Uncle does not approve of you being our sister, then that means he…” 

“He can’t!” Aria hissed. “There is no way!” 

Fili shook his head, shushing her. “Sheesh, woman. For being as strong and brave as you are, Miss Aria, you are very limited in your observation skills. Have you not noticed how he is around you?” 

She thought back to after the Carrock and even before. Despite having saved his life and his annoyance with being there, she’d failed to noticed the smallest of things in his demeanor. Of course,  he’d kneeled before her and proclaimed his services to her. That had been something far greater than she’d expected. However, looking back, she remembered the stolen glances her way while they’d traveled, the way he’d aided her with her wound, and his ferocity at knowing she was in pain. Was it simply because he was their leader or something else? Why her? 

“He would have done the same if you had been injured.” She stated after some thought, defiance thick within her voice. “It’s as simple as that.” 

Fili cocked a butter tinged brow at her. “You are very dense, Miss Aria, and I do not usually tell females that for fear I would be pummeled by my Ma.” 

She wished to know what he spoke of, but his eyes were guarded and nothing else was said further. Instead of pursuing the conversation further, she chose to continue their chatter from before. There were questions still lingering upon her tongue. 

“Okay,” She grumbled, waving a hand. “Going back to what we previously spoke about then. Why would you consider me ‘unofficially’ your sister if you barely even know me? I’m a stranger to you and as far as I’m concerned, my arrival was completely unplanned.” 

Fili inclined his head thoughtfully, mind working before he said anything. She’s witnessed a similar look with herself, before, and her won thoughts raced. He was wracking his brain, wondering on the best possible way to speak whatever mingled there. She would take minutes to think and sometimes less depending on how tired she truly was or how awake she felt. 

He pressed his lips together again. “You are correct in saying I don’t know you very well, but that isn’t too hard to figure out. However, I don't think the last statement is entirely true.” 

She cocked her head. “No?” 

He turned to her, eyes luminous with secrets and the yearning to reveal them. “You see…” 

A loud, inhuman noise met their ears before Fili could finish. Their heads snapped in unison toward the source. Beyond the hedge came deep groans as if something large lumbered their way. Aria’s heart began to thunder in her chest, her fingers gripping into the soft wood of the window sill until her knuckles blanched. She feared what had made the noise with great earnest, it left her breathless. Somehow, meeting the bear face to face again was not something she wished so quickly once again. 

“What was that, do you think?” Fili asked, his fingers wrapping around one of his various knives. “It couldn’t be the bear, could it?” 

Fili seemed to scoot closer to her, touching her arm as if to shove her behind himself. The gesture was not unnoticed, her heart warming to the dwarf while he brought his knife in preparation for a fight. Fierce fire burned within his eyes that gazed out into the night air, face pulled into one of determination. Gone was the soft warmth of their conversation from earlier. In its place was the regal warrior she’d witnessed upon the mountain. Everything that Aria felt she was not. 

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I sure hope it isn’t.” 

They watched on as the lumbering footfalls of something large bounced off the walls surrounding them. A shadow moved beyond the tightly knit hedges, impossibly large and impending. It approached the gateway and her heart seemed to drop. The large wooden gates creaked open rather harshly to accommodate a hefty figure pushing its way through. Aria swallowed thickly, her ears drowning with the sound of her thundering heart. 

“What is it?” Fili leaned in, knife tucked against him as he narrowed his gaze at the figure. 

Aria didn't wish to say what her thoughts were as she observed the figure, afraid that what she believed it to be would become the truth. It was tall and broad, much larger than anything she had seen so far. In the silvery moonlight, she saw ebony fur and ragged, grey scars. She’d seen something like that before, fear lacing the memory like ribbon through the wind. 

Then, her mouth went dry as it came back to her. 

“It’s him.” She breathed. 

Fili’s blank expression melded from one of cautious wonderment to one something almost calculated and feral. A normal person such as herself would have expressed with a scream the fact that death lumbered forward and stopped mere feet from them. Fili was different, however. His gaze narrowed at the girl as his knife rose from where he’d tucked it away. Aria felt Drayuik heat upon her chest, her hand twitching to rise and grip the pendant. 

“What do we do?” Aria asked, unsure of their next move. “Should we wake the others and gear up for a fight? Should we stay here and wait for him to go away?”

Fili opened his mouth to answer, only to slam it shut as the beast before them began to tremble and gyrate almost uncontrollably before them. Like something possessed, the creature’s body began whip in motions Aria had never seen. Groans of pain ripped through the air, sending vibrations to shake the walls of the barn. Its giant head bent backward with a snap, its thick neck torqueing unnaturally. Aria wished to move and cover ears, but any movement to signify something lurked in the shadows would alert the creature to their location no matter how distressed it was. 

Finally, the beast morphed before her eyes. The transformation reminded her of a melting ice cream cone, the fur and bulk of the creature she’d seen earlier simply dripped from a humanoid form as it stumbled like a newborn fawn closer to the establishment. Its groans of pain that had sounded so close to an animal now twisted and merged into those of a human’s. Its deep, guttural baritone signified that it was, in fact, a man. 

The figure continued to stumbled about, beads of sweat glinting in the shafts of moonlight that spilled into the yard. Silver lined the dirty skin of the figure, dark hair sprouting from everywhere upon his body. He was tall, broad shouldered spanning something far wider than any normal man’s could. The bear was gone and its its place was a man that struck fear within her soul. She blinked a few more times, Fili’s hand touching her shoulder. She met his eyes and, for a moment, they shared a brief breath of silence before his eyes filled with urgency. 

“Miss Aria,” He breathed. “You need to go.” 

“Why?” She hissed. 

“He is…” Fili glanced upward outside the window. 

“Naked.” Aria gulped, feeling her eyes almost bulge. Fili immediately took a hand to cover her eyes, turning her shoulders and face away to cover protect her. She felt her heart hammer within her chest, ears burning out of sheer embarrassment. With a quick shove and a whispered order to keep her eyes closed, Fili released her. After a few steps, she opened them and turned to him with worry. Her eyes met his despite the the unfortunate show and smiled at her, the softness returning to his gaze. She returned his smile despite still feeling fear riddling her heart. 

“Go on, back to sleep with you.” He told her. “I’ll wake you when it’s decent. I don’t believe the man outside is in his right mind to attack us, tonight. Especially after that antagonizing show we just witnessed.” 

“Are you sure?” She asked, her worry not subsiding. 

Fili nodded. “It’s an order, from your brother.” 

“Unofficially. You’re unofficially my sibling, now.” She snorted. “It’s highly unlikely that anyone will like that arrangement, sorry.” 

She turned her back on Fili’s silent scoffs, ambling back to her stall, her snoring Hobbit, and her annoyed Warg. 

Chapter Text

“There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something. You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

Aria didn't recall when she’d fallen asleep. Her mind raced, but exhaustion was just as fast. Fili had insisted that she return to her stall, curl up to her wolf, and leave him to watch the strange human that had emerged from the bear. She wondered if she even could fall asleep with the sound of the beast’s strangled cries ringing through her mind. 

He won’t come into the house, she’d told her self over and over in her head. Fili said the beast was not in his right mind to attack them. Trust in the dwarf, Aria. Trust him. 

Those words had echoed through her mind like a song on repeat until she felt them within her tired soul. Again and again she ran through them in her mind until darkness took her entirely. She didn’t dream of the Stranger nor did she feel him in her mind. She didn’t even feel Tane, his mind too tired to keep their connection. It didn't worry her, however. Knowing he was close kept the anxiety at bay. She slept deeply for what seemed like years, the darkness almost calming to her exhausted heart. 

Sounds loud and obnoxious roused her from her sleep. Her consciousness flickered to life from her initial inebriation, and she blinked back the gummy sensation in her eyes. She remembered very little from the night before, but snippets of things fluttered through her mind like butterflies. She blinked a few times, her vision blurry. Using an arm, she rubbed at them until it clarified upon a still sleeping Tane. She smiled a bit at him, knowing perfectly well that he deserved his rest after what he’d done to save her. To save them all. She refrained from rousing him as well, feeling it in his best interest to keep sleeping. 

The Hobbit, however, was nowhere to be seen. She glanced all around their stall, finding only things that had been there the night before. A wallowed area of hay lay beside her, the place in which Bilbo had slept earlier. It appeared to be the only sign to show he’d been there at all, the rest untouched for fear that their host would know and grow angry. At least, this was what Aria thought herself and felt the others to know, too. 

Slowly, as not to wake Tane, Aria rose. Her entire body screamed in pain, joints popping like bubble wrap beneath her skin. She winced, blocking her mind from her Warg companion as to keep his thoughts peaceful. The pain soon subsided, however, receding to a dull ache that she could comfortably move with. Her ankle felt less horrid as it did the day before but she felt uncomfortable putting her full wake upon it. Using the stall wall to her right, she leaned against it and stepped forward. 

The air around her felt warm, the scent of hay and livestock hanging heavy around her. Her clothes had dried overnight thanks to the warmth within the barn, but she still felt nasty from traveling. Slowly, she peered down the hall, the noises she’d awakened to sounding off again. They were slightly muffled as if a something divided her from whoever made the noise. This perplexed her. Even so, she felt no hostility in the voices. As a matter of fact, she felt lightness in the timbre. Almost like…

Laughter. 

This alarmed her and confused her. What had happened while she’d slept? Had their host showed himself? Had he not? The answers laid ahead of her, a hallway of wood and hay standing between her and what she wished to know. She could almost feel the pull like a string, the beckoning promise of what was to come and what she yearned to understand as alluring as food to a starving traveler. 

So, Aria made the first steps and closed the distance between her and the answers. The arched doorway between the barn area and her intended destination towered above like a giant sentinel. If she were a guessing woman, she would have thought it far taller than the average man. However, exact numbers didn't matter much as her eyes landed upon what lay before her. 

A threshold of worn stone lay at her feet, smoothed by years of use. The overwhelming aroma of home baked goods hit her just as she set a wobbling foot upon the withered stones. The din of noises buffeted about the walls like bouncing balls, filled to the brim with merriment. Her heart swelled, wishing to reach out to whomever had unleashed the great noises. It had been so long since she’d heard such joy and such emotions that lay un-bound by responsibility or animosity. Her eyes roved all over the area that lay as big as a barn itself. 

She stood at the cusp of what seemed to her to be a makeshift eating establishment. The noise she’d heard had been her dwarf party with an addition to one Hobbit and one wizard. A giant table stretched through the center of the area and was lined with rickety wooden chairs. Each dwarf sat within one of them, shoving their faces with various foods and chasing it down with what appeared to be milk in large, wooden steins. Their faces were plastered with grins as wide as the wooden table they sat at. She smelled and saw a plethora of vegetables and dairy products, spying bowls of honey as large as her head. She leaned against the door frame as they continued to invest in the merriment surrounding them. Their eyes were alight with the joys of food and company, but she’d not noticed the large being among their midst. 

Their host. There was no other title for him at that moment and nothing else he could be. She’d seen his profile the night before, flashes of his towering frame ripping from the body of a bear into that of a human rushing her mind. It seemed to have branded itself there when other memories had faded with sleep. She could hear his cries of agony, as well, tearing through the countryside and trees like a siren song of pain. 

With shaking limbs, Aria stepped back away from the party. Her heart lurched into her throat, respiration quickening as her mind blanked. She’d not noticed him in the shadows, but he’d parted from them as smooth as the honey he’d placed out for his guests, fully clothed in tattered cloth but covered nonetheless. His stature and bulk towered over the table, making her dwarf friends appear as toddlers to the hulking man. She felt a twinge of fear slice through her at the mere sight of him, flashes of the bear’s great scarred face and fangs gleaming in the moonlight from the night before. 

Something bumped her from behind and she felt an all too familiar prodding through her mind. Her bones relaxed against the soft fur of her Warg as he nuzzled into her. She ran her hands over his wide forehead, his comfort and security washing over her like a warm shower. If the bear or man tried anything, at least she had Tane in her corner. 

It appears our fearsome pursuer is far more hospitable than he had been earlier, Tane stated. He is  almost domestic. 

All Aria could do was nod in agreement, the raw fear of speaking and bringing attention to herself still dragging its claws across her mind. She observed as the large man, covered in hair and far more rugged than anything she had seen before, poured milk into Bofur’s cup. The dwarf nodded thankfully, bringing it up to his lips and downing the drink as one would do beer in a bar back home. She heard Kili and Fili guffaw after Ori told them something particularly hilarious. 

Among them all, sat Bilbo, who appeared somewhat shaken by the entire ordeal as well. His eyes followed the large, hairy man, their circumference as wide as dinner plates. He, too, appeared to have various emotions regarding their giant host . Aria recalled that Bilbo had been asleep for most of their escape from the great, black bear. She couldn’t imagine the things flying through the little Hobbit’s mind, no matter how brave he could be. A towering giant was still just that. A giant. 

In a way, Bilbo was similar to Aria. He was the type such as her that had been born and raised in such a small area, and he’d not seen anything quite like their host. If she were honest, he’d probably not seen hardly any of the things he’d endured while on their adventure. She’d not been there as long as he had, not from the beginning at least, but she’d endured a great amount in a matter of days. The thought of seeing far more than that shook her bones. Because, if she were honest with herself and if she kept on their journey, she knew she would see far greater. Perhaps she’d see far worse as well. 

“Master Gandalf?” Thorin inquired over his plate, the others continued to talk among themselves and enjoy the food and drink provided by the host. The man waived in the shadows of the the area she’d label as a kitchen. "What is our next step? We have come this far. Where do we travel to from here?” 

The wizard placed his tankard of milk down upon the rough surface of the table. “We will rest here for a few days. There are those of us that need tending to physically. Some who cannot afford to be injured.” 

“My men are fine. You speak of the girl?” Thorin asked, glancing down at his hands with an expression Aria could only pin as sorrowful. “She is injured, yes. Her ankle is in a horrid state and I believe she has far more injuries that she is not showing.” 

“Well,” Gandalf chuckled, slipping a long object from his robes to place between his lips. Aria noticed it to be a pipe. Also from his robs, the wizard fished out what she assumed to be tobacco, or the alternative in their world. He placed a dab in the bowl band lit it with what she could only assume to be his own power. He took a few puffs from it, exhaling the smoke into the air where it formed a perfect circle of wispy white before disappearing into the atmosphere. “Out of modesty, I believe it is best she doesn’t show you some of her injuries.” 

“Aye,” Balin chimed in as the large, hairy man began filling up his empty tankard. “She cleaned most of them herself in the river and rid herself of that vile goblin blood, but I believe her injuries are far deeper than we could imagine.” 

Their host paused, the pitcher he poured from hovering above Balin’s tankard. “She… was…bathed in goblin blood?” 

Gandalf glanced up at the man, the pitcher righting itself in the larger man’s hands as he clutched the bottom. Despite the man towering over the rest of the party, she noted the rugged planes of his face, a face that had seen many things in life and had survived it. There was a sorrow there, underneath his busy eyebrows and set deep within his honey eyes that Aria could not break down further. She knew the expression and the wear and tear that lay there, however, as she’d seen it staring back at her in a mirror. 

As Aria gazed upon him, she saw flashes of a life that wasn’t hers. Great bears lived in harmony long ago, warring with an unknown enemy during great battles. There were chains and collars, tears and roars of agony. She could feel the pain of the metal as it bit into her skin and neck, of how an unseen enemy poked and prodded at her body. These thoughts zipped through her brain and she winced against the barrage. Somehow, she felt connected with the man in a way she couldn’t explain. It felt as if they were long distant cousins who had not seen each other in decades. They shared something, something she had yet to sense within herself. 

“Yes,” Bofur spoke to the man. “Not entirely sure how she ended up that way, but the lass can end some orcs, if you ask me.” 

“No one asked you, Bofur.” Thorin growled. 

“Sorry, sir.” The dwarf looked forlorn for a moment and Aria felt for him, wishing to reach out to him and comfort the bite that his leader had dealt. For a moment, Aria felt anger toward Thorin and his brashness. She would have to set him right, to inform him of how rude he could be to his soldiers. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by Gandalf, who glared at Thorin. “How she became covered in orc blood is beside the point. We all suffered some injuries during that battle and we need respite. This so happens to be the best shelter and it would serve us better to remain here, if our host so lets us.” 

Everyone glanced at the large man who had crossed his large arms over his overly large chest. Beneath his tattered shirt she could see a powerful chest littered with various scars and a dusting of dark, smoky hair. His simple belt and pants were slung across slender hips, for his size at least, leather clad boots upon his large feet. He appeared far older than anyone there besides the wizard, and she wondered just how old he truly was. 

“Any enemy of orcs are friends of mine.” He stated simply, turning away to mess with something beyond Aria’s sight. 

Thorin turned from their host to Gandalf, leaning atop the table on his elbows. “I cannot guarantee her safety, Gandalf. I believe I have already told you this. If she does not heal, we will have to leave her behind.” 

“You have no choice but to take her with you, Master Thorin.” Gandalf sat back in his chair, the old wood creaking. “I believe it is her fate to follow you.” 

This statement caused her blood to boil more. Having been beaten into submission in the past, she’d spurned every mention of words related to being weak. She’d built herself into something strong, whether it had been her wits or her physical strength. She’d sworn to herself that she would never allow others to beat her down, nor would she let them speak ill of her without garnering the bite of her sharp tongue. 

Do not rush toward a fight, Cub. Tane’s voice was father-like in its cadence and she halted her fuming. He touched her leg with his nose, watching on. She had no choice but to do the same. 

“Fate be damned. What use is she if she cannot fight?” Thorin growled and Aria felt her heart sink. Despite the sensation of knowing that he didn’t believe in her, the most disappointing thing was that she had felt it as well. As if on cue, her ankle throbbed slightly as she bore weight upon it. She bit her tongue, choking down a gasp. She didn’t wish to be discovered just yet.

“What will her fate be, then?” Thorin crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I just told you this. Her fate is with your company. That is all that can be answered.” Gandalf replied, weaving his fingers together to rest his chin upon. “You cannot deny that she plays some part in all of this. You feel it within.” 

Thorin curled a lip, but said nothing. Perhaps, Gandalf was right. 

“Do you know what part she plays?” Balin asked, eyes curious. 

“I do not, Master Balin.” Gandalf shrugged. “That is for her to know and realize when the time comes.” 

“That is all well and good, but what if she gets injured further than she is now?” Bofur asked simply, setting his elbows upon the table. Bombur, who sat next to her, narrowed his gaze and raked the elbows from the table. “I do not wish ta see her come to any more harm.” 

“We won’t let that happen, right Kee?” Fili announced with vigor, standing swiftly and sending his plate to fly across the large table with a clatter. Kili followed, nodding with fervor as well. 

“Aye,” Bilbo stood as well, gritting his teeth. “I will not let any harm come to her either. Not on my watch.” 

Gandalf chuckled, regarding everyone who had stood with amusement and admiration. “Now, now, my friends. Do you believe for one moment that she can be harmed? Mind you, I do not wish to see the poor soul who can get past her when she’s angry. Nevermind the lot of battle hardened dwarves who have grown fond of her already, or the very enthusiastic Hobbit that seems to not leave her side.” 

Bilbo dipped his head, the tips of his pointed ears reddening. The dwarfs did the same, the brothers dipping their heads out of shyness. To Aria, it seemed almost cute if her heart had not been racing quickly. 

“Also,” Gandalf thoughtfully added, “I cannot forget the Warg that seems hell bent on keeping her safe.”

The lot around the wizard erupted into argument, bouncing replies to his statements as one who counter in a debate. The brothers, Bilbo, and Bofur did not, however. Their faces read the truth, Aria’s heart reaching for them and their loyalty. It meant a lot to her, knowing truthfully, that it took an army to fight against their leader. Eventually, the group quieted down as realizations were made and Aria felt her heart swell a bit at those who seemed to care for her than they and herself had thought. 

“Has she not proven herself worthy in your eyes, Master Thorin?” Gandalf asked, a sense of knowing within them like a cat playing with a mouse. He was toying with the dwarf king. Aria wasn’t sure if it was dangerous or not. Thorin glared back at the wizard, his clear blues deep and thoughtful as well as burning with fury. Aria stepped back, feeling something stir within her. She wasn’t sure, in that moment, if it felt like fear or admiration. Either way, it went as quickly as she observed it. 

Thorin stood quickly, turning away from the group as if he were taking his leave of them. “I do not want to be responsible for someone else’s death.”

“Especially not hers.” Gandalf deadpanned. “Correct?” 

The room fell silent around all of them as dead as the eyes of the orcs she’d left behind in the pit. All faces bounced between leader and wizard, awaiting something. The tension in the room began to twist like a snake, tightening its coils around everyone within with a hiss of delight. Aria wished to step away, to go back to her stall and forget all of this. She hated the thought of those who believed in her fighting against those who had not. She wished for little confrontation, especially when it came to her. What she also hated, though, was the mixed signals steaming from their leader and everyone else. What good was a party who did not support everyone within it? 

Thorin paused, hand upon his chair and the other filled with his plate. It appeared the entire room awaited his word, the realization that he possibly cared more for her than he’d led on seeming to be an elephant hanging from the bannisters above. 

A buzzing brought Aria from her eavesdropping. It sent vibrations up and down her spine, causing her to jump and spin as quickly as her broken body would let her. 

Behind her, hovering a yard above the ground, was the largest bee she had ever seen. It appeared the size of a small dog and Aria realized it to be a honey bee. Its large wings were almost invisible as they buzzed and fluttered quickly, reminding her of a humming bird darting from flower to flower. Its fuzzy body was long, not short as she’d grown used to seeing in other bees, and void of pollen dust that normally would clump upon their legs. 

She gave the thing a smile as it hovered in front of her, despite the sheer size of it. She’d loved them back on Earth where others simply assumed they would cause harm to everything like their wasp-like cousins. This one, she felt, would not harm her. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but it lay there just as the bee did. Right in front of her and in plain sight. 

Then, with movements far slower than normal bees, it few closer and just enough to where she could feel the air of its wings buffet against her. It fluttered her hair about her face, the scent of flowers wafting into her nostrils. She felt something tug her toward it, a sensation of belonging perhaps, or something similar. She reached out to the creature, its oil slick and segmented eyes observing her hand as it drew closer. She didn't fear it at all, something that was almost unlike her back on Earth. 

The bee gazed at her outstretched fingers for a moment, contemplating it for what seemed like ages. Then it, she, bowed to the girl. Aria turned, noticing more buzzing and a slew of bees that hung behind the other in front of her. They buzzed almost silently, awaiting the movement or direction from the before her. It was then Aria noticed the difference in the bee before her. Her physiology did not mirror the others and Aria realized the elongated abdomen did not match. Knowing what she knew of bees back home, this only meant one thing. 

The Queen. 

Before she could further grasp the situation, the Queen fluttered toward her quickly, causing the girl to stumble backward. Knowing the threshold of the room behind her took a stop up, Aria felt said step upon the backs of her knees. Unfortunately for her, she stumbled over the step, flying briefly through the air, and sprawling upon the ground like a fish out of water. The entire ordeal caused quite a bit of noise, shooting through the hall like a firecracker and clattering against the walls. 

Aria felt a semblance of pain as her back met the hard wood floor, eyes cast upward toward the thatched ceiling and thick beams of wood used to support the roof. The breath was knocked from her lungs, her vision swimming for a moment as she gasped. There were thundering vibrations all around her that she felt through the floor, footsteps of many swarming her ears as she blinked back the blackness for a moment. 

Then, she felt a familiar sweeping within her mind. Worry. 

His teal eyes were in her vision within a breath, Thorin’s clear blues second, and Bilbo’s green eyes the third. Concern laced their expressions and all Aria could do in that moment was give them a haphazard smile of embarrassment as she attempted to regain the air she’d lost in the fall. A hand followed the concerned looks of her comrade, a dwarf’s hand, and she grappled for it as if blind. Tane aided in lifting her upper half into a sitting position, Bilbo gripping under one arm in helping her as she leaned forward on her behind. 

“Miss Aria!” Gandalf exclaimed rather excitedly, “I am delighted to see you are awake and well.” 

Well? She felt far from it. All Aria could manage to do to communicate was a thumbs up, the air that had left her struggling on the input as she gasped for it like a drowning shipmate. Thorin tugged on her hand and Bilbo followed, urging her to stand. She did so, mindful of her ankle as the Hobbit and the dwarf prince kept her from falling forward again. Fili and Kili rushed to her side, eyes wide with worry as well and Aria was reminded of the conversation from the night before as her and Fili watched the man that had served them breakfast change almost before their eyes. 

“Miss Aria,” Fili smiled, his concern dripping from his eyes like rain drops from a tin roof. “Are you okay?” 

Kili reached forward, hesitated, and then drew his hand back. His expression read much like his brothers and Aria wondered if Fili had spoken with the darker haired sibling about what had been discussed the night before. If anything, Aria was reminded of the words Fili had spoken to her about Kili and whatever feelings he held for her. 

“You remind us of our mother,” He had said. “He finds it fascinating and won’t quiet down about how great you held yourself on the mountain.”

Breath finally gained, Aria drew one shakily and nodded. “Yes, Fili. Thank you. I am so, so sorry, everyone.” 

“There’s no need to apologize, child.” Gandalf spoke, striding forward to stand before her. “We are just pleased that you were able to join us.” 

The man she knew to be their host, broke free from the shadows again. His footfalls were heavy, sending tremors through the floorboards. For a second, Aria felt a twinge of fear strike through her at his immense size. She took an unsteady step backward as the man approached, and she could see his narrowed, honey eyes narrowed toward her. 

“You must be Aria Jackson,” He spoke, the timbre of his voice sending chills down her spine. “Your company has spoken highly of you all morning.” 

For a moment, she couldn’t speak. The breath that she’d only recently gained suddenly left her without a warning again, her lungs struggling as her forehead began to bead with sweat. She felt intimidation from the hulking figure, knowing full well that his other form could have easily ended them the night before. Pearly fangs as sharp as daggers flickered in her mind’s eye and it took every ounce of diplomacy within her to refrain from wincing. 

“Ah,” Gandalf’s eyes switched between the two. “Yes. Miss Aria, this is…” 

“I know who he is.” Aria finally found her voice, rasping the line as she felt Thorin and Bilbo’s grips leave her. She lifted her chin, all embarrassment gone, to the man who towered above her, his eyes deep and riddled with a pain only those who shared it knew. She met them, finding a sense of kinship again as she had done before. “You are our host.” 

“Yes,” Gandalf’s eyebrows quirked upward. “This is Beorn.” 

For whatever reason, she wasn't sure why, Aria felt it respectful to bow her head at their host. She dipped her chin, closing her eyes as she did so to perform the act of respect toward the giant man. She didn’t know if it would represent her gratitude or not, knowing in some countries back home that the act of showing certain signs of respect were not regarded as such in other places. 

“It is an honor to meet you, Beorn.” She added, lifting her eyes to meet his once more. “And on behalf of me and my company, I thank you for your gracious hospitality.” 

The others, eyes wide but understanding the situation, lifted their mugs in the air and agreed. A murmur of “Here, here” and “Thank you” spread among them, but Aria only gazed into the larger man’s honey eyes. Gandalf’s own gaze shifted between the two. 

She, herself, didn't understand the feelings she received right then. As she’d noted before, she felt a sense of belonging with the man. His aura, she guessed, held hints of things she felt familiar with. Warmth, kindness, acceptance, and others milled around her mind and filtered into her heart. The fear she’d felt from seeing him melted away, dripping down and draining at her feet until all that was left was peace. It was something so sudden and so quick, she’d not felt it in quite some time and almost failed to note it. 

“The honor is all mine,” Beorn replied, his voice a deep baritone that thrummed with his sincerity. “I am not overly fond of dwarves, it is true. But, those in need I will not deny. Especially children of the Queen of the Earth.” 

Aria felt herself confused, then, as the others seemed to mirror her expression with confusion and awe. Before anything else could be said, however, Gandalf cleared his throat and shooed Thorin, Tane, and Bilbo away to grip onto Aria’s arm and lead her to the large table. The others welcomed her, Bofur tipping his flagon toward her as she took a seat beside him. 

“Good morrow, Miss Aria.” He greeted, “Did ya sleep well?” 

Still bewildered, but choosing not to seek too much into it, Aria shook her head and met Bofur’s gaze with a smile. “I slept like the dead. You?” 

“Besides Bombur’ s snoring,” He replied, “I did the same.” 

Bombur, who had been happily shoveling various types of cheeses into his maw, narrowed his eyes at his brother. His cheeks were chalked full, his face a visage of a puffer fish or a chipmunk from back home. This caused Aria’s mind to forget all that had been said earlier, a smile forming before a giggle bubbled out of her chest. 

A plate of the same cheese and a large mug of milk were placed before her by Beorn, his eyes still regarding her with the same expression as before. One of recognition and amusement. She chose not to meet his gaze any further than to bid him gratitude, eyeing the food before her as her stomach rumbled and she remembered she was human and hungry. 

The cheese, she noted, tasted divine upon her tongue. It melted in her mouth, smooth and tangy like sharp cheddar back home. She had loved the stuff as she’d been able to get it from her foster family, the very sight of it being far too rare. She gobbled it like an unhinged beast, famished for the finest things. Crumbling, toasted bread was set beside her, and she readily consumed it with the same gusto as she’d done with the cheese. The milk was heaven to her taste buds, creamy and rich as it cooled her core and sated her famished body. 

The others had continued their feasting after her clumsy entrance, chatting among themselves with smiles upon their faces and color returning to their skin. Gone was the tension from before, their leader having taken his seat once again. He had crossed his arms over his chest, plate untouched, and starred at her while she ate. Normally, she would have felt nervous under such a stare. However, she was far too hungry to care in that moment. 

She gazed at everyone around the table in between bites. Despite the color having returned to their cheeks, her comrades still held dark circles under their eyes. A lingering mark of their journey and a reminder that it was far from being over lay written upon every beard and wrinkle. The circles would deepen with time, the longer they remained with their lives on the line and closer to their destination. What lay horrors lay ahead of them? Was she willing to continue onward and face them with the party? Was she strong enough? 

“Stop that!” Came a voice from across the table. Its large surface was worn by use, spreading at least seven feet or more across. “Stop that right now. This is not the place for this!” 

This brought her attention to in front of her. Her plate, which she’d realized she’d cleaned completely, was lifted away from her in a rush. She turned to find Bofur with a stack of them in his arms, a grin upon his face that seemed mischievous. Her mug, emptied of every drop, also lifted from the table and joined the few that Ori had managed to fit within his small grip. 

“I’ve got them!” Fili announced from behind, eyes wide with anticipation. 

“Oh, Beorn,” Gandalf sighed through his pipe, crossing an arm over his chest. “I hope you don’t mind. It appears the company wish to reward your gratitude with some of their own. As to why, I don’t know.” 

Beorn, who had been watching the beginning of the fiasco with amusement and slight befuddlement, acknowledged the wizards statement with a curt nod, sliding into the shadows to observe. It seemed she shared the same thoughts as their host, wishing she could observe from the sidelines. 

Instead, she was seated amidst them. Everything seemed to quicken then, the aura within the room rising to something akin to anticipation and more merriment. Aria observed with awe as Bofur began to toss the plates he’d held over her head. She ducked, using her arms to cover herself, before continuing to observe the flying dishes around her. Bilbo, who sat across from her with a look of utter horror upon his face, followed each plate with his mouth agape. Aria giggled at the sight, reminded of a cod fish caught from a pond. 

“Stop that!” He cried, waving his arms over his head and standing upon the large chair. “You’ll break them!” 

“You hear that, lads and lady? We’ll break them, he says!” Bofur laughed. “Almost like his knifes in his Hobbit hole. He told us we would blunt them!” 

“Blunt them?” Fili repeated. 

It was then that Aria was introduced to a portion of the journey she’d missed. As the dwarves tossed the plates and mugs to Bifur, who had taken the responsibility of washing the dishes in the giant sink using a large stump to stand on, Aria listened intently to the upbeat melody that began with Bofur’s chant. 

“No,” Bilbo cried again, hopping on the seat with diligence as if to stop the entire fanfare. “No, no, no!” 

“Blunt the knives,” Fili chanted. 

“Bend the forks,” Kili followed, catching a mug within his arms. 

“Smash the bottles and burn the corks,” Bofur sang, his voice deep as he followed the table around to gather the dishes. Bifur, Aria noticed with awe, didn't look back as he caught each dish in his hand. 

“Chip the glasses and crack the plates!” Came a Bombur’ s voice, his face full to the brim with more cheese again. 

“That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!” Came a plethora of excited voices as the last of the plates Bofur had gathered met Bifur’s hands. 

They continued the song, more lyrics regarding trailing fat, dumping milk on bedroom mats, and so on bringing her Hobbit friend to his wits end. She couldn’t help herself, however, and a smile began to encompass her face. It felt good to grin, then, and she hadn’t recalled a time she’d done such a thing so easily. The jaunting melody of their voices coupled with the cheerful atmosphere caused her heart to swell in that moment, the memory lodging itself deep within her brain and remaining there. They laughed and sang, slapping each others shoulders playfully. Bombur, who had been the only one whose plate had not been taken, fought off Bofur who insisted on doing just that. 

“I give up.” Came a voice from beside Aria. She turned to meet Bilbo’s green gaze. “They will just do what they want to and I can’t do anything about it.” 

“Yes,” She sighed, patting him on the shoulder. “They will. But, at least its harmless.” 

Bilbo scoffed. “For you, perhaps. But not for me. Order and tactfulness, that’s me. Never one to annoy or be annoyed. Not until this lot showed up.” 

“Is it bothering our host?” She asked, leaning over to speak to him from where she sat. Bilbo had managed to clamber upon a chair next to her which had been previously occupied by Bofur. 

His eyes trailed to Beorn, who observed with a hint of something Aria chalked as unfamiliar to his face. She swore a hint of a smile quirked at the corners of his lips, amusement within his deep, honey eyes. Then, they shifted to her and she dropped her gaze, unease settling within her. 

“No,” Bilbo replied. “It appears not.” 

“You mentioned them showing up as if they were upon your door step, Bilbo. What happened before I arrived?” Aria asked, leaning over to him again to yell. 

Bilbo made to answer, but one of the party approached their side of the table, breaking off from the throng of fan fare and merriment. 

“Do you sing, Miss Aria?” Dori asked loudly over the din, wiping his hands upon a cloth. “It isn’t uncommon for women, or females, to know song. Do Earth females know music as well?”

Aria felt herself taken aback for a brief moment. “Excuse me? What was that, Dori?”

The din of song swelled around her and she’d thought she’d misheard him. The dwarves whooped and hollered about, still chanting their song of splashing wine on doors and the lot, unawares of the sudden question asked by one of their own. A question Aria never thought she’d hear. 

Long ago, as with most of the things she’d been taught, her grandmother had told her that her voice would become something she’d forever find to be useful. At the time, Aria had been too young to understand why, but her grandmother had informed her that finding her voice and using it properly would become very beneficial to her and her safety. Whether it be singing, arguing, or other things, her wit and vocals could ultimately save her. Being at her age, the whole entire thing was confusing, but she’d humored her grandmother nonetheless. 

Through singing lessons, it was deduced that the girl could carry a tune. Of course, she’d been quite small when her grandmother had noticed this. However, like most of the things Aria grandma did, she prepared her, drilled her, and instilled the importance have having many talents, this one included. It came to no shock to Aria that she eventually would hone the skill and become quite good at it. So well, in fact, that she had been told her voice had been heavenly and had garnered her many compliments. 

As with all art forms, her voice became her expression. As with everything else upon her grandmothers death, however, it faded into the hectic life Aria would soon lead once she’d lost her grandmothers things. She chose not to pursue the talent, along with all of the others, and dropped everything that reminded her of her grandma. It hurt too much and brought back too many painful memories. With age and time, her voice rushed over like an old car body in the woods and she’d almost forgotten all about it until Dori’s anticipated expression brought it back. 

“Uh,” Aria stammered, “I used to sing a long time again. But, it’s been far too long since I’ve done that. I’m too rusty.”

The din halted as their song finished, Bofur striding up to the side of the table she sat on. He smacked the wood, laughing before turning to Aria and Bilbo. 

“So, Miss Aria,” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “How did you like our song?” 

“Absolutely dreadful,” Bilbo snorted from beside her, crossing his small arms over his chest. Even if he puffed himself up like an angry toad, Aria spotted mirth within his gaze. He, too, had enjoyed it like she. 

“Miss Aria was just informing me of how she used to sing,” Dori exclaimed joyfully, and much to Aria’s horror, loudly. She felt her heart sink, presenting both palms of her hands while shaking them to stop the nonsense she felt was about to begin. 

However, it appeared she had been too late. Seeing as how loud Dori’s voice had been, the echo of it had filtered to just about everyone within the room, especially and blue eyed dwarf prince who had bee in deep conversation with his diplomatic comrade, Balin. 

All gazes shifted, the air suddenly silent. Her heart hammered inside her chest, thundering in her ears and drowning out most sound. Her clam demeanor which had been more apparent before, suddenly swan dived to her feet. Her blood grew icy and sweat dotted her forehead. 

“Is this true, Miss Aria?” Fili asked, eyes alight with excitement. “Can you really sing?” 

She sighed, knowing full well she could not fight a battle that she had already lost. She knew, however, that she could stall for time and rid their minds of the ridiculous idea. They wouldn’t want to hear her sing, anyway. 

“No, I don’t anymore. My voice is far too out of shape for that.”

Beorn, who had sat down to observe them, grunted. 

“There was honey in your milk, Miss Aria. You will find it aids in that sort of thing.” 

She blinked at him in astonishment. It had been no wonder her milk had tasted far sweeter than any she’d ever had on Earth. At the time, she’d chalked it up to the beverage being native to the area. Things usually tasted different depending on where they were from. 

Honey explained it all. 

She had lost her argument and her stall for time in a breath. Honey would help her throat and she knew, very well, that her voice would be fine if she practiced a bit. If she were honest, her voice was strong and clear no matter what she put it through. She was up a creek without a paddle either way she looked at it. 

Signing, she sat back in her chair. “ If I sing for you, I’m not responsible for anyone losing their hearing.” 

“I can take out mah ear horn if it gets too bad,” Oin exclaimed. “At least I would be spared.”

“Yee of little faith,” She giggled. “What do you want to hear?”

Bofur, who had halted any and all that he had been doing, grabbed a chair and sat down. If he had minded at all that Bilbo had taken his seat from earlier, he voiced nothing over it. His eyes, and it appeared many others, were set upon the girl. She felt a wave of nervousness, but dashed it away immediately, knowing that if she failed that it would not mean her demise. 

Just eternal embarrassment. 

“How about a song from your world?” Balin suggested, having sat down near Bofur. “It would be refreshing to hear something different.” 

Aria thought for a moment at every song she’d ever listened to or sang while back home. In her former years, there were so many and such joy when listening to or performing them for her grandmother. In her later life, before ending up in Middle Earth, she couldn’t remember music. Sure, the radio played at various times, but nothing that meant much of anything ever returned to her. She’d lost most contact with her creative side, fearing for her life at the top of her list. 

As her mind wondered through various songs she barely recalled from her childhood, she hated herself for forgetting most of them. She’d been too focused on surviving her new surroundings that she’d not once thought of singing or anyone asking if she could.  She’d lost most semblance of her talents until the need arose, every thought going out of the window at the sign of danger. 

Now, with a crowd forming before her and ears eagerly awaiting her voice, she sighed as she thought of one song that could possibly be worthy. It was an old, old one that dated back far into her childhood. The melody spoke of saving ones people, of deliverance from evil, and doing what's right when given a dyer situation. The ballad came from an animated film she grew up watching with her grandmother, the voices within angelic and dripping with emotions that her young mind had not comprehended at the time. Now, with scars upon her skin and heart left there by trauma of her past, she understood now of what the mother had done in order to save her child. She comprehended the notion of sacrifice and doing what was right to save those she cared for. The feelings swelled inside her, rising like the sun as she felt her mind reach for the lyrics swirling around her brain. 

Before she knew it, her voice lifted to meet the words within her head. She’d not sung in so long but her voice showed no sign of the rust as she’d thought it would have. For some reason, it exhibited little signs that she’d acquired any over years of misuse and no use. She recalled all of her lessons, her body picking up the movements and exercises as if it had never stopped. Her lungs filled with air, her soul filling with emotion, and her entire body vibrating with anticipation. 

The haunting notes rose like waves in the sea, spreading throughout her company, Aria’s eyes slowly closing as she recalled each and every chorus and note. Her breath, once strong and somehow uninterrupted, began to thicken with emotion as she continued. She felt the tears sting at the corners of each eye, a warm trail following as they fell silently. Pain began to bloom within her but not the physical pain that could heal. 

The song made her miss home. Not the home in which she left. That had never been the word. She missed her grandmother and the warm cottage she grew up in. She missed her embrace and the security that came with it. Her grandmother had fought the demons of darkness away with her love, engulfing young Aria in its joyful glow until no shadow dared touch her. 

Then, that glow had subsided with her death and Aria was left to fend for herself in the darkness. 

The song ended and Aria’s eyes opening to her hands clasped in her lap. The silence that hung within the room felt thick. She wished more than anything to remove herself from the chair she sat upon. More tears began to seep into her eyes, causing her vision to blur as droplets landed upon her worn skin. 

A soft touch brought her from the ebbing sadness threatening to to devour her. She glanced to the side, finding Bilbo’s green gaze saturated with worry and gleaming with unshed tears. He said nothing to her as she took his hand in hers. He gave it a strong squeeze, strong even for his size, and offered her a slight smile filled with reassurance and understanding. He missed home as well. His home. 

Then, Bilbo stood in his chair and landed down upon the ground. He tugged on Aria’s hand, her mind still slightly laden with emotions brought about by the song. She stood absentmindedly and followed him without issue as he led her away from the group and into the barn where they had bunked the night before. He cooed at her like an overbearing parent, but she tuned him out, her mind lost in the distant memories the song had brought forth. 

Then, he sat her upon the hay where they had bunked, Tane stepping up beside Bilbo to curl within the bedding. His worried aura reached her, but she allowed it to wash through her system and pass like a river over rocks. She told him to calm himself while she lowered her body down and he wrapped around her, his warmth permeating the sudden chill within her bones. She felt as if she’d fought another battle, one filled with metaphorical enemies that left her rugged and bare out in the cold. She felt foggy and numb, unsure of how or why besides what she’d done earlier. The pain of everything she’d endured coupled with the pain of her past felt wet and heavy upon her heart like a dirty lump. All she wanted to do was sleep even though the day seemed to have just begun. 

She rested her head down upon Tane, watching as Bilbo kneeled beside her with a hand upon her arm. 

“Will you be okay, Miss Aria?” He asked, his eyes still wet from before. 

She nodded, her cheek deep within Tane’s soft fur. “I’ll be okay. I’m just tired suddenly.” 

“Sleep then,” He stated. “Ill watch over you until then to make sure the others don’t bother you. I recon there will be questions needing answers, but its best they forget about this for a bit.”

“Why?” She felt her eyes fluttering, suddenly too heavy to keep open. 

“They looked fit to burst earlier.” Bilbo smiled, “And I’ve been with them long enough to know it to be an overwhelming thing. It’s best to let them stew on it for a while.” 

She nodded, or at least she thought she did. She was far too tired to care at that moment. She thanked Bilbo, or did her best, and felt sleep slip in to take her into the shadows. Bilbo was right. The dwarves would have to wait for a while. 

She simply needed her rest. 

Chapter Text

You see, Beorn loved animals, and they loved him in return and they were more than happy to serve him. Beorn was even thoughtful enough to deal with low tables and chairs to make the animals jobs easier. 

- J.R.R Tolkien

“You miss your home, Little Mouse. Do you not?”

“I do,” She replied. 

“It was the song, was it not?” 

She sighed. “Yes. It was. It was something I remember from my childhood. Something I can’t get back.”

“It is normal to miss ones home.” The Stranger’s voice was gentle, a soft caress against the agonizing thoughts that plagued her mind. “It keeps one focused and on their path to return.”

“That’s the goal.” She stated. “To return, I mean.”

“Right,” The Stranger seemed thoughtful and knowing, “But, I do not feel as if your plan to return is the proper one.” 

“How would you know what’s right for me and what’s not? I don’t even know you?” She hissed, rage boiling inside her at the thought of yet another being attempting to control her. 

“You misunderstand.” If they detected her anger, they didn’t act upon it. Instead, their voice simmered just beneath the surface of amusement, but not the malevolent kind. They knew something she didnt and it scared her to learn. “You see, it seems you are mistaken on what home truly is to you. Besides, if you go back where you came from now, you will never meet me.” 

“Like that is even a good idea. As I said before,” She shook her head. “I don’t even know you.” 

The Stranger chuckled, a deep and rumbling noise that seemed to send tremors through her subconscious, dreaming mind. 

“Yes,” The Stranger purred, amusement dripping from their words, “But don’t you wish to?”

********

“Do you think she’s alright?” 

“Back up! Don’t crowd!” 

“What if she has lost consciousness, again. She could have hit her head on something…” 

“Kili, if you do not stop fussing like a ninny, I swear upon the Iron Hills that I will give you something to fuss over. You are worse than our mother.”

“Oi, don’t speak of mother like that!” 

A scuffle and growling words like fighting bears brought her forward from her dreams. She drank in the environment, her mind fighting back the soggy sensation of too much and too little sleep. The words of The Stranger still clung there as well, reminding her that for some reason her thoughts were not her own. Groaning internally with frustration, she erected her mental wall to block out everything she felt in that moment. For a sense of peace. 

Her vision swam as she opened her eyes, a soft light filtering in through her blurred vision. Blinking a few times, she finally shook her head to clear it as best she could before glancing upward into a plethora of faces peering at her as if she were some zoo animal. Her company, no doubt. Or at least some of them. 

“There she is!” Bofur announced loudly as if she’d been expected, reminding her of a soccer dad, the sudden pitch sending a spear of pain through her head like a needle. “She’s awake!” 

She winced against the noise, hissing as the pain raced down her spine. Someone shushed the dwarf, berating him for possibly being too loud for her and how they would beat him senseless if he did it again. She blinked a few more times, attempting to shake her head of the pain and focus on where she was. 

Are you well, Cub? Tane’s voice, as always, seemed worried. She sighed. He was there, behind her, his warmth sweeping into her very being as she attempted to ground herself. You slept fitfully.

My head hurts, Tane. She told him. But other than that, I’m okay. 

Your sudden tiredness worries me, child. Tane blinked, lifting his head from her side to meet her gaze. You are not fully healed. 

She could only nod slightly, sighing heavily as the ache in her mind seemed to cause her more discomfort. It was then that her attention was brought to the audience before her and her gaze widened. She’d forgotten they had been there for a few moments. 

From what she could see, and towering above as she lay against her Warg, stood Dori, Bofur, Bomber, Fili, and Kili. They peered over the edge of the stall wall with curiosity and wonder, eyes circular like children and she was the new class pet. In that moment, she didn't care if she bore the worst bed head ever. With as much strength as she could and through the headache blooming behind her eyes, she gave them a small smile. Footsteps approached from beyond the wall and Ori, Nori, Oin, and Gloin approached. 

“‘Ello, lass. You doin’ alright? You gave us quite a scare. Singin’s’ never caused me to be tha’ tired.” Oin stated, holding his ear horn away from his ear. 

“You can’t…” Gloin stated before sighing and forcing the ear horn into Oni’s ear. “Ya can’t sing anyway! Ya sound like a dyin’ cat.” 

She chuckled, making to sit upright on her own. Tane leaned into her, helping as best he could to push her upward. In a rush of bodies, Fili, Ori, and Gloin aided her in getting her into an somewhat sitting position, her head swimming. She noted how Kili made to join them, hesitating before leaving the other three to it. The other’s hands were warm through the sleeves of her hooded sweatshirt. Weakly, she shooed them away, telling them that she was just fine even as the ache behind her eyes threatened to prove her a liar. 

“Miss Aria,” Fili kneeled by her side. “Are you truly alright? It seems the song made you tired.” 

She nodded. “I’m fine. I think I’m still recovering. It brought about some memories is all.” Her voice was rough, as if she’d spend all night screaming. 

“Aye,” Gloin nodded, crossing his arms over his barrel chest. “They looked like painful ones, if we are bein’ honest here, lass. Ya are very strong, but not tha’ strong. No offense. No one is.” 

“Not even Uncle.” Fili nodded reassuringly. “He’s worn himself thin before. It was horrid.” 

Despite the aches she felt blossoming all over her, she shrugged. “I agree with you. I was not ready to do that just yet. I’ll have to build up more strength before I put that much emotion into something.” 

“I best not find you exerting yourself like that again,” A rough, authoritative voice barked from behind her dwarven audience. 

The others started, turning almost in unison to view behind them. A figure strode forward clad in a simple tunic that stretched across his powerful torso and breaches held up with thick leather straps. His sleeves had been rolled up to exhibit his strong forearms covered with dark hair. He was regal as he strode forward with a frown upon his bearded face. His cool blues narrowed at her with something that wasn’t at all hostile. Instead, somehow, it read with as much worry as his warrior heart would allow him. Relief seemed to flash across the planes of his face, the storm within his gaze softening. Then, in the blink of an eye, his demeanor changed and he became the Thorin she’d met so many moons ago. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

She blinked, clearing her throat. “I am still recovering its seems but I'm’ alright at the moment.” 

He nodded, eyes shifting to gaze at the group around her. “You caused my comrades quite a stir last night.” 

Her gaze dropped to her lap, fingers twisting within the confines of her cupped hands as she let the unease and guilt wash over her slightly. “I know. I am sorry.” 

“Ah, Thorin.” Bofur’s voice was sympathetic. “She caused us no harm. Honestly.” 

Aria lifted her gaze, thankful for the ever outspoken member of their party. He may have always be ornery and flirtatious, but she respected him. Even more so now, as she gave him a small smile. 

“No, she didn’t bother us Uncle.” Fili’s eyes were sincere and Aria thanked him internally as well. “We rather liked her singing, as a matter of fact.” 

“We loved her singing,” Kili’s voice cracked, but she heard him nonetheless, a warm fuzziness blossoming within her heart toward the younger dwarf. “I thought it was very beautiful.” 

Thorin’s eyes betrayed the agreement he clearly wished to convey for a moment before he snorted. “I need you lot to come with me whenever Miss Aria’s on her feet again. We have much to discuss concerning the way forward.” 

Thorin trekked off from them without a farewell and Aria immediately felt her face heat. A slight anger began to form, her eyes narrowing as she watched the leader of their group exit through the large doors down the way. Their next plans concerning the journey forward needed to be discussed with all of them. Was he back to treating her as if she were nothing again? She’d thought she’d proven herself to be one of the group. A sense of disappointment and frustration bubbled inside her already upset gut, hot tears stinging at the corners of her eyes and threatening to spill down her cheeks. 

Had she not beheaded a Warg or thrown herself from a cliff defending them? Had she not saved a few of their party and risked her own life doing so? Had she not thrown herself into a death pit to save the life of a stranger? 

She’d not done it for his acceptance, but in a way she knew that wasn’t entirely true. She’d done so to survive, but to also prove she needed to be part of the group. It was a simple an answer as breathing. Metaphorically and physically, she’d chosen the best options at the time to stay afloat whether it be to remain in the group or keep her breath. 

Her anger faded when Tane nudged her. Do not concern yourself with him, Cub. He was simply worried for you. I do not believe you will be treated as you once were.

Thanks, Tane. She smiled, using one hand to rub his large forehead. I am forever thankful for your kind words. 

Besides, Tane lifted his gaze upward thoughtfully, If he does, I am certain he will change his mind if I have a word with him. 

Of course, Aria sighed, rolling her eyes. 

“What do you say, Miss Aria? Would you care to join us outside?” Dori’s voice brought her from her thoughts, his smile spreading from ear to ear. "It's mid morning and awfully pretty.” 

“Is she well enough, though?” Ori asked, worry within his eyes. “Are you feeling alright, Miss Aria?” 

Aria drank in the air around her. The scents of dust and dirt mingled with the aromas of livestock wafted about, motes of dust catching in the butter sunlight that spilled from the windows. The atmosphere felt cool, like an autumn day in the mountains back home and she felt herself missing home then, her mind wishing to feel that coolness again. 

“Yes.” She replied, squaring her shoulders. “Let me get up and I’ll go with you.” 

The others gave a call of joy at her answer. Fili, Dori, and Gloin stepped forward to help her stand. Tane lifted himself stiffly from the stall floor, shaking the straw from his fur with a snort. He waited as she gathered herself, the stiffness in her bones not going unnoticed by her companions. However, if she were to move forward, she needed to grow her strength. She could rest outside and sleep later. A whole new world stretched beyond the wood and stone that encased her. She needed out. 

The dwarves clucked and fussed over her like broody hens while they made their way toward the exit. She’d shooed them away, allowing herself to walk with the aid Tane’s shoulder and Fili’s hand upon her lower back. Soon, through large wooden doors, she found herself outside upon a stone path that seemed to stretch on for miles ahead. Her arm flew over her eyes as the blazing sun pelted down upon her. The deep aromas of lavender and honeysuckle met her nostrils and she drank it in hungrily, letting her eyes adjust to the sudden brightness that seemed to flood everything around her. It felt amazing against her skin, the rays of light caressing her shocks of energy through her body. Soon, however, her eyes adjusted to the stark illumination around her and she dropped her arm. 

If she were to compare anything to home, it would have failed to the visage before her eyes. Everything was bright and lively, endless carpets of flowers of every color spread on either side of her, swaying in the cool breeze. Emerald grass could be spotted in various locations filled with livestock animals munching upon it hungrily. Encasing it all and stretching on for what seemed like miles was the giant green hedge she remembered from their initial entrance to the place. 

Among the various animals meandering about, she spotted dog of a breed unrecognizable by her lifting themselves upright upon their hind legs to walk like a human across the lawn. They went about their business, carrying things they could manage with their paws such as trays or the like, while speaking in quick barks to each other. A handful appeared to tend to the company who had not been part of her waking party. The group of dwarves relaxed in the grass, patting the livestock or chatting amongst themselves. 

A hand tugged upon the sleeves of her hooded sweatshirt and she met eyes with Dori again. His face broke into a smile and she matched it as best she could. He led her forward into a large garden, passing Bombur who waved at her with joyful expression as he stuffed his face with various cheeses supplied to him by a few of the bipedal dogs. Her smile broadened and she waved back, not surprised the largest of their crew had found the food already. 

The garden stretched for what seemed like miles in all directions. Besides the carpets of colorful blooms, there were a plethora of vegetable plants familiar to her but far larger fruit than what she’d seen at home. Watermelons as large as her torso leaned against their larger vines, gleaming emerald green in the sunlight. She spotted cucumbers and squash as large or larger than her forearms, the squash ranging from bright yellows and other colors. 

Among the flowers and zipping from bloom to bloom, legs laden with yellow pollen, were the great bees from earlier. Their buzzing was like the rotor blades of a helicopter as they passed overhead, the breeze kicked up by their passing causing her unruly red braids to flutter. Her mind recalled the bee she’d seen before the ordeal in the dining hall. What had spurred the Queen, she could only assume it to be her, to intervene? 

As if she’d heard Aria’s thoughts, the large insect hovered into the girl’s line of sight. Unlike how she’d appeared before to Aria, the Queen’s legs bore yellow pollen like her kin. She hovered for a moment as if in greeting, then buzzed off to finish her work. Aria had never seen anything like it, knowing a Queen bee back in Oklahoma would never involve herself in the day to day work of collecting pollen. It seemed that her entire perception of these bees differed greatly from those at home. 

Dori had left her to stand amidst the millions of flowers of reds, pinks, yellows, and purples, her breath too far gone by the shear brilliance of the space to realize she was no longer being escorted. The bees bustled around and wisps of pollen danced like dandelion fluff about her. The Queen returned, spooking the girl with her sudden nearness. The bee dipped as if to bow in Aria’s direction, then went about to her duties again. Aria almost felt as if the Queen were checking upon the girl almost in a motherly manner, leaving her feeling somewhat fuzzy internally. 

“She likes you,” A voice as deep as the night brought her from her thoughts. Aria turned quickly, meeting the honey gaze of their host.  

“Oh, hello there Beorn.” Aria clutched at her chest, her heart hammering within it like thunder within the sky. “What do you mean by that?” 

Beorn, who stood large within the confines of kitchen the night before, was far larger in the daylight. He wasn’t as dark like the shadows he’d clung to, but he wasn’t any less intimidating. She lifted her gaze high, her head tilting as far back as it could go to meet his eyes. The bushy eyebrows above his honied gaze quirked upward, regarding her with a sense of knowing that she had yet to understand. However, it wasn’t condescending or negative in any way. It felt warm, amused even. 

“Yes.” He stated, crossing his arms over his clothed chest. He bore an almost flannel appearing shirt and dark pants. His hair and beard blew wild in the cool air, sparking silver in the suns rays to indicate he was far older than she’d initially perceived. She knew from the dining hall that it had been darker than ink in the shadows as it had in his fur while he’d been in bear form. 

“What do you mean?” She asked again, her eyes blinking back the flashes of gleaming fangs and angry eyes. To stay respectful, however, she added: “If I may ask?” 

“She understands what you are, as do I.” He stated casually, as if it were common knowledge. This seemed to bother Aria slightly, finding it worrisome that someone knew something she didn’t. Usually, she didn’t concern herself with knowledge that others knew and kept, but this concerned her and it worried her. 

“I’m sorry,” She stated, narrowing her eyes at him. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. I apologize if you expect me to understand.” 

“I do not,” He told her with a sigh, uncrossing his arms and squaring his shoulder, turning his back on her. “Come, follow me.”

She wanted to ask why, but his expression caused her pause. He turned his back to her, trekking forward and away from the gardens. She glanced over her shoulder, finding the others scuttling about without a care in the world. She couldn’t help but smile then, enjoying as they laughed and rested, knowing full well they deserved it. 

Turning away, she followed 

Beorn led her into an area that housed a large, wooden structures she wasn’t sure she’d seen before. They stood at least Beorn’s height or taller, a great ruckus rising from within its depths. Aria swore as she gazed more at them that gleaming golden streams of liquid dripping from a dark hole just large enough for one of the insects to enter. As she gazed upward again, she found the sky swarming with the great bees as they returned from the flower gardens. She watched as they entered, halting her walk as she did as to not miss everything. The swift movements of them passing overhead causing her frazzled hair to blow in wisps about her face. She tucked the stray strands behind her ears, gazing up again into the sky as the bees landed at the mouth of the great structures. They disappeared within and it was then she understood these structures to be their homes. 

“These are my bee pastures,” Beorn halted near one of the large houses, leaning toward forward to peer into the depth of one aforementioned house. He did this for a moment, until one of its busy occupants bumped into him. He stepped aside, allowing the worker to enter. 

“They are magnificent.” She stated, her eyes as large as saucers as they absorbed as much as she could. 

“Yes,” Beorn nodded, straightening himself and stepping away toward another structure, one she could easily recognize more than the others, that stood in the very center of the area. “They are. They are one of my pride and joys.” 

As if on cue, the larger bee Aria had seen earlier, hovered about the houses as if monitoring the work around her. Again, Aria was reminded that it was unlike any bee behavior she had seen before. Beorn bowed to the being, the bee following suit. She then turned to Aria, the many octagonal sections within the black spheres of her eyes regarding the girl before doing the same.  Aria dipped her head to the Queen, feeling for the first time as if she should have done so before hand when the bee had performed the same act. It felt almost instinctual now, as if it had always been a part of her. 

“Hmm.” Beorn grunted from beside her, eyes intrigued, before turning and heading toward his original destination. 

She followed him to the structure, watching him as he reeled in a wooden bucket from below filled with water and drank greedily from it.  After he was done, he sat the vessel down upon the grass at the foot of the well. She watched him sharply, narrowing her eyes at how calm he appeared to be. 

Beorn turned toward her after a few more moments of silence had passed, eyes calmly gazing down at her through his long lashes. “Sit down upon that rock over there.” 

Aria had chosen not to speak for fear that she’d been asked to accompany him for a reason. She’d learned long ago to remain silent when the moment required it and the one she found herself in at that moment seemed to be such a time. It was something she’d acquired from past experience, having gathered more information from a situation by not speaking. 

 Beorn pointed toward a stone that nestled close to the well. She attempted to feign stubbornness and refuse to move, but at that moment her ankle decided to throb. She glanced down at it, noticing with disgust how her shoes were far from the color they had been before. Mud and what she swore to be either her blood, goblin blood, or both splattered against the toes. The laces had been completely stained, the legs of her jeans just as bad. After warring with herself for a few moments, she finally gave in. 

Beorn pulled a brand new bucket of water from the well, some of its contents sloshing over the side. He hefted it up, carrying unhindered a mere three feet to set it down upon the grass near her. The water sparkled in the sunlight, gleaming against her tired eyes as it sloshed and whirled inside the wooden vessel. She gave Beorn a questionable gaze while he kneeled before her, producing some sort of cloth from somewhere, before reaching for her leg. 

Usually, when someone would reach for a lady such as Beorn did, said lady would fight back. They would bite and claw, stamp and attempt to run. Aria would have if she hadn’t felt a sensation of knowing wash over her so suddenly that she wasn’t quite certain how to handle it. She wasn’t quick to assume or fast to claim someone would do something to her that was unorthodox, but she wasn’t naive either. She’d seen the horrifying side of men when they’d consumed too much alcohol or something hadn’t been done their way. She’d lived it. 

Beorn’s gaze was gentle, ever aware of just how much larger and imposing he was as he lifted her injured ankle up in his hands and revealed the nasty wound. She’d attempted in vain to mask it and clean it at the river. It had certainly gotten infected and she wasn’t entirely sure as to how she’d not lost it by then. It looked nasty and she understood the others to possibly show similar signs. 

As if feeling her confusion and trepidation, he gently held his other hand out. “I will not hurt you. This water has healing properties and should aid in making it better.” 

He’d taken the cloth, dipped it in the water, and had laid it upon the wound. The sharp pang of the cool liquid upon the fevered skin sent a sharp jolt of shock up her spine. However, after a few seconds, it felt heavenly upon. 

“It will take at least a few days,” He told her, removing the cloth to dip it back into the bucket. “The water has healing powers, yes, but it is a slow process.” 

Aria couldn’t help but smile a little. “Thank you so much.” 

Beorn only grunted, busying himself with letting the cloth soak and wringing it out to repeat again. The air shifted about them and Aria’s whirling thoughts fell silent as she lifted her gaze into the air. There was no use fighting against someone like Beorn, no matter how much she truly wished she could on her own. She felt so used to relying on only herself, the newness of having others help her somewhat daunting. It took her her a moment to solidify her resolve and allow others in, having been given no reason to do so back home. It was a foreign concept to her and no one truly accepted change. 

The sun leaned closer to the peak of its trail, casting the entire garden and her colleagues in brilliant light. The air felt cool and soft as it caressed her face, her hair a mess of braid upon her shoulders as it fluttered there. The lazy drone of the worker bees caused her to relax herself, her eyes threatening to close and her entire being melting upon the rock as she slipped into a once human shaped puddle of exhaustion. 

She was shaken from her moment by a yip. Fluttering her eyes open, she blinked a few times to find one of the large, bipedal dogs with grey fur approaching them. She’d been unable to identify their breed or what they appeared as earlier, but as it drew nearer, she figured it to be akin to that of an Irish Wolfhound. Up close, the nature of its posture confused and baffled her and rendered her speechless as it approached. 

The canine bowed to Beorn, who in turned bowed back. They appeared as equals, the skin changer speaking to the dog in soft barks and yips. The dog, in turn, replied. The two swapped an entire conversation before her, completely ignoring their audience. It wasn’t as awkward watching them exchange words in an unidentifiable language. Instead, Aria’s awe only seemed to grow. 

After the dog had bowed once more and left, the silence between her and Beorn hung thickly. She was reminded of his statement from earlier when passing through the bee pastures, questions filling her head almost immediately. She drank in the sweet scent of the air and blinked. 

“What did you mean earlier, when you said the Queen liked me?” Aria asked suddenly. “What were you talking about?” 

Beorn removed the cloth once more, placing it into bucket. There it remained, the man deeming his work done for the time being. Glancing down at her ankle, she blinked in bewilderment at the sight. It appeared as if the water truly did have healing properties, at least in the equivalent of healing cream back home with a touch of Red Bull in it to speed up the process. 

The angry, nasty appearance had dampened a bit. The sickening red of her skin took on a far more healthy hue, the wound itself less black. The moisture from the cloth still clung to her, giving her ankle a sheen in the sunlight. Already, the throb she’d had earlier felt more dull. 

He stood and her eyes followed him. “We can discuss it when dinner arrives. For now, you must take this bucket and clean the wounds upon your shoulders and anywhere else.” 

Anger speared through her in an instant. It was hot and quick like a snake lashing out. It had risen at yet another road block keeping her from answers, feeling it burn in her belly like vodka shot quickly and with the greatest of intentions at wishing to be drunk. She quickly shot up, ignoring the creak of her joints and the squealing of her ankle as she squared herself to the towering man. His bushy eyebrows rose in astonishment, eyes wide as if she wore a tutu. She almost swore he took a step back from her, body rigid with a quick and shallow bit of something she couldn’t quite call fear. 

“No!” She exclaimed. “I won’t wait around until dinner time. You have been cryptic from the start and I do not appreciate that. If there is something wrong with me or different, if there is something I have that could help the dwarves,I need to know. ”

She couldn’t deny how her voice faltered. How all of her emotions seemed to build and spill forth like a dam busting. She needed to know if there was something disastrous about her, or if there was some sort of component that she possessed that would be of importance to her comrades. Beorn had been nothing but weird since she’d arrived, minus almost eating them. Everyone, it seemed, knew a little of something she didn’t. 

Beorn’s face still held the shock of her sudden outburst, but after a breath it softened. He reminded her of a parent and she, a teenager.  She felt as if she were acting out against something he’d said or denied her, his calm demeanor that of a tired father. A bit of her own soul felt somewhat warm that he’d react in such a manner, her chest aching in the knowledge that she’d never had that during her teenage years. 

She blinked through her anger and observed as he weighed the demand she’d made. Along with this, she noticed his actions slightly stiff compared to before, as if answering her question right then had not been part of his plan. Of how he then simply needed to re-organize his agenda, his lesson plan, as if he were a teacher. 

After a moment, he signed heavily, gaze lifting to survey the sky or avoid eye contact all together. As if he were praying to someone or something for guidance. 

“Very well.” He stated. “Sit, please. This will not be a short tale.” 

Chapter Text

“Deep roots are not reached by the frost.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien

She blinked, gazing down at the rock she’d been on moments ago. Without hesitation, she took her seat back that she’d only vacated a second ago. Her ankle thanked her as the uncomfortable throbbing began to ease. She watched as Beorn lowered himself down to her level again, kneeling in front of her with tired eyes. She felt immediately apologetic for making him tell her what he’d not planned to, but the thought left her as soon as it arrived. It was important information and she needed to know. There was no excuse for waiting if it was helpful to the others and to herself. 

The silence that stretched between them was a fog. It was thick and uncomfortable, lingering between them like humidity during Oklahoma summer days. Her guilt was a heavy weight but the need to know as much as possible felt even heavier. 

“You are not from here,” He stated, breaking the silence. 

Aria couldn’t help but let loose a small laugh. She clamped her hand over her mouth, fully aware that the entire thing could have been seen as rude. However, her host appeared unperturbed, his eyes almost thoughtfully amused. 

“What gave me away?” She huffed, giving the ground a small smile. “The fact that I don’t look like I am or that I talk funny?” 

Aria met Beorn’s gaze again and he shook his head. “You misunderstand. I simply say that you were not from here. You have not been from here for a long while. It has been ages, it seems, since you’ve been in Arda.” 

Aria narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean? I’ve never been here in my life.” 

Beorn placed his arms on both knees. The bees darted around behind him, one of the dogs she’d seen earlier approached the duo with a tray balanced on one paw. Aria wasn’t sure how her brain could take anything else odd, but she gathered her wits about her as best she could to at least nod at the dog as she took a proffered drinking glass in her quaking hands. 

“T-Thank you,” She told the dog shakily, who in turn bowed at her before stepping away to place the tray down upon another rock. It sat upon its haunches, appearing as if it hadn’t been bipedal moments ago. Aria eyed the canine for what felt like eons, unsure of how to process it’s appearance. 

“Perhaps at one time you were here, but your smell has not graced Arda for annuals. Generations, even,” Beorn’s voice broke her from her thoughts, his own sounding thoughtful, as if speaking what tumbled through his head out loud. “It was here long ago, or at least it was on someone related to you. It was among the trees here and praised by all life within the forest. I knew it as I knew Yavannah’s own scent. All of my kind did. I want to believe it was you, but I also believe it to be a relation. You are young, too much so to be out here when I recall it. Along with this, however, there is also a smell that is not Arda. A smell of another place.” 

This made little sense to her. She narrowed her gaze again and felt the strain behind her eyes, the onset of a headache beginning to form. She wished to sleep and awaken to something that caused less of a mental ache than what she found herself in now. She wasn’t entirely sure if he was speaking English, or whatever the equivalence to that was, or it was just that hard to understand. 

“What do you mean by smell? I had a bath, I shouldn’t smell too…” She began. 

“I do not know how to describe it to you in a way for you to understand,” He gave her an apologetic smile, finding a random stump and sitting upon it. “However, I can tell you have the blood of someone from Arda within your veins or you have been here long ago. Originally. You have just been away for a long, long time or belong to someone born of Arda who has yet to return.” 

Aria’s mind immediately went to her grandmother, but the thought felt too preposterous to even linger upon. She found herself staring at the man with eyes wide as saucers, unable to form much of a thought other than pure confusion. How could one process what she’d just heard? She wasn’t from Middle Earth. She’d never heard of such a thing other than the stories her grandmother had told her. Yet, if Beron was correct, she was from Middle Earth or at least had been born from someone who was.

 She thought of his words, of how he’d told her she’d not been in quite some time. Had she ever really known Middle Earth before? The thought that she had felt nearly impossible to perceive. Perhaps in dreams she’d seen a beautiful place such as this, but those had occured long ago and many things had happened since then. 

She shook her head. No. All that thought did was leave confusion in its wake and confusion was the very tip of her metaphorical ice burg of just how little she understood of her situation. If she were positive, perhaps there were things that were deeper than just her surviving day to day. She couldn’t deny the small spark of excitement at the thought of finally knowing just who she truly was and understand what her grandmother had forced into her head. She wondered just how much the elder had known or wished Aria needed to know. How would it change Aria’s outlook on Middle Earth and her own past? 

How would she accept it if it were true?

She’d only ever known Oklahoma and her grandmother’s place. She didn’t remember much of her parents or anything beyond that. There were many times filled with training and readying herself for something. Her grandmother hadn’t mentioned what for, only mumbling various things that hinted at another world and preparing for something. At the time, a younger Aria didn’t care. She loved archery, she loved being a pitcher on a team, and she loved the other things her grandmother had gotten her involved in including riding horses and the like. 

After her grandmother’s death, the world fell into darkness like the shadow of a perminant cloud and Aria no longer felt anything. She didn’t dream of beautiful cities nestled in the sides of moutains nor did she dream of a brilliant people and creatures as she had once. Things changed drastically in her life as she was ripped from the only home she ever knew and thrust out into the stabbing cold world her grandmather had sheilded her from. From there, her days had been filled with dread, rage, and sorrow and she could no longer find the spark that her grandmother had kept lit. Aria was lead to believe she’d all but forgotten what she’d been taught by her grandmother. 

“How else do you know?” The girl asked, eyes turning where she’d been gazing out intot he garden to meet Beorn’s eyes.  The tankard hung limply within her fingers. Needing a distraction from whatever was going on beyond her comprehension, she lifted the mug to her lips. The sweet smell of something she couldn’t recognize wafted from within the tankard and she let the cool liquid fall upon her tongue. It was, in fact, sweet and she guzzled it greedily. 

“The way the animals react to you,” Beorn hummed. “The queen of my bee colony is not fond of strangers. But, she is fond of you. That is rare.” 

Aria used the sleeve of her hoodie to wipe her mouth. “I don’t see how bees being fond of me makes me special. Some people are just good with animals.” 

Beorn snorted. “Yes, but could you explain the reasoning behind your Warg friend? Or the fact that you know more about combat than you let on?” 

“My grandmother taught me all of that,” She shrugged, nonplussed. “I’m not sure why, but she seemed to know a lot about all of that herself.” 

Beorn nodded quickly, as if she were chipping away at the entire subject of the conversation. “Yes. That is correct. It appears that she was training you. Training you to return or to be part of a bigger event. Something that has not yet come to pass.” 

To return? Something that hasn’t happened yet?

“That has nothing to do with why animals acting oddly around me or of me in general. I loved the woman, but she was gearing me up for something that will never happen.” 

Beorn shook his head, his face red. “There are many things that you are and are not. The most important thing that you are, however, is that you are a daughter of the great Yavannah. The Mother of the Earth.” 

“Mother of the Earth?” She asked curiously. 

“I did tell you this was not to be a short story.” He stated with a huff, “And so begins one of the many things that must be explained to one who has forgotten.” 

Aria stared at the obvious frustration that flooded his features. A building sense of dread came over her, one that whispered to her un-prepared brain that she was nothing, a nobody. The information in which she’d never known or perhaps forgotten lay right at her feet, yet she denied it. She wasn’t the biggest fan of upsetting anyone by her lack of knowledge. Her foster family had seen to that. Gazing at Beorn’s face made her heart sink, her nerves raise their ugly heads to cause her entire body to crash into chaos. 

What did he need her to know so badly? Was it a crime to forget where she came from and swear it to not be true? It was as if she’d lost all things she’d used to be and it was imperative that she remembered. This, along with the entire mess that were her thoughts seemed to match his frustration. For the life of her, she quite simply couldn’t wrap her frazzled mind around what Beorn indicated she should be or should know. 

A loud crash filled the tense air with a shock. Aria jumped in her seat, gasping as her tankard fell to the ground. Aria’s gaze whipped to a thick clumping of brush to her left as it wiggled and moved, jerking from side to side as if alive. A handful of curses in a language she didn’t know erupted from the foilage, causing her gaze to narrow. She knew the voices and had heard a snippet of the language before.

They’d been discovered. 

As sigh escaped her lips. The entire ordeal tore the girl from her confusion as she rose, minding the very preturbed canine that gathered the fallen tankard from the ground with a ill tempered growl. From the writhing bush spilled Bofur, Dori, Fili, and Kili in a non-so-fashionable entrance. She crossed her arms over her chest as they bumbles through the trees and over the various beds of plants as if noone watched on.

 She shook her head just. “Guys, what did you do? You just stomped all over some of Beorn’s garden.” 

The dwarves halted immediatly and stared at her, wide eyed, before glancing around at the chaos they had instilled upon their surroundings. More cursing ensued, followed by the hurrying of boots and bending of waists to gather what they could of the destroyed vegetation. Aria sighed again, feeling her mind suddenly crumbling within her as she attempted to convince herself yet again that this was all too real. 

“Do not fret,” Beorn chuckled, still remaining seated. “I have plenty of time during my days to replant. It is something I will not hold against them. I have many animals who bumble through the plants just as your dwarf friends have.” 

Aria could feel a bit of relief forming within her breast, lowing her tensed shoulders. However, she still felt the prickle of second hand embarrassment knowing the dwarves’ lack of comprehension when it came to other races’ respect and dignity. It was something, again, that she remembered from her grandmother’s story. Useless information that was not entirely that if she trusted Beorn’s words. 

“Shall we continue?” Beorn asked Aria as she continued to gaze at the bumbling dwarves while they cleared their mess. Had they been drinking? “Unless you wish to postpone this tale and its knowledge for another time…” 

She didn’t have any more time. That much was fact. She could feel it in the air and in her soul. Something about the way Gandalf carried himself as well as Thorin’s stoic expressions and far off gaze caused the girl to comprehend something only others like her could. For some reason, despite the fact that she denied it, she could feel herself growing closer to the land. Beorn’s words were not the first and she hated to admit that they would not be the last. She didn’t understand what it meant to be a part of Middle Earth logically, but her soul understood at least enough to know he comrades’ window would soon close. For what, she had yet to fully grasp. 

Upon hearing Beorn’s voice, Aria turned to face him. “Yes. Please.” 

“We heard you talk of Yavannah.” Fili proclaimed, straitening himself and striding over to the duo by the well. “You don’t know who she is, Miss Aria?” 

She shook her head. “I’m not from here, remember?” 

“Not entirely true…” Beorn began, but Aria sighed. 

“Okay,” She corrected herself, placing her palms out in surrender. “Apparently I’m from here and didn’t know it.” 

Fili’s eyes widened to saucers, gleaming in the sunshine as it spilled softly upon his handsome features. “He speaks the truth?” 

Aria shrugged. “I don’t know. I want to think he does, but I also can’t believe it. That’s what I’m trying to find out, I guess.”

“You will believe yourself to be speaking to a dwarf that is not native from where you come from,” A voice came from beyond her like a rumbling thunderhead. “But you will not beleive there is something  unique about you like sharing blood with an ancient being.” 

The direction of the voice tore Aria’s attention from the dwarves before her and toward one of the many paths that lead to the spot she sat within. She found herself face to face with the tall wizard’s amused expression as he stepped from his path with Bilbo and Ori in tow. The latter seemed anxieous to approach Beorn, Ori’s eyes darting about him and everywhere except toward their host’s dark gaze. The wizard clutched his gnarled staff in one hand, a long pipe within his other. Smoke trailed lazily from the bowl as he took a drag from it before turning to Beorn.

“A lesson on Valar, I presume?” Gandalf asked of the Skin Changer, carefully picking his way around the area before fiinding another stump to sit upon. His robes rushed around his feet like waves of grey seawater, sending leaves and dried flower petals to swirl about. 

Beorn nodded. “She is not who she thinks herself to be, Master Gandalf. It seems there is more to this child than meets the eye.” 

Gandalf simply nodded as if he’d known all along. Aria felt her mind wonder just how much he truly knew. About her, about the land, and about everything.When she’d struggled to find answers when she’d first arrived, perhaps he had known them already. She couldn’t allow herself to feel anger in that moment, though, no matter how much the thought boiled her blood. She could only feel a sense of anticipation for what was to come. What would they tell her next? 

“Well,” Gandalf took his pipe from his lips, wrestling with the inside of his robes until he produced a small bundle. From there, he gathered a portion of the contents and stuffed it into the bowl of the pipe. Aria narrowed her gaze as the man snapped his fingers, a tiny glow of flame flickering for a moment as he lit the end of his pipe before snuffing out. He puffed a little until the heat took hold, smoke pouring from his nostrils like the infamous dragon the dwarves spoke about. One of the various bipedal dogs offered him a tankard and he took it readily, nodding at the canine before taking his pipe from his lips to sip at the contents of the cup.  “If it’s a history lesson, then I guess you and I are the one’s fit enough to tell it.” 

Beorn nodded at one of his dogs for a drink, his eyes finding Aria before turning to Gandalf. “I believe so.”

Aria wasn’t sure what caused the shift in the air so suddenly. It felt heavy, like the thick atmophere before a rain. What once had been an energized, almost unbearable curtain of anxiety and the unknown abruptly gave off the air of purpose.  It was dense, a weighty pile of sand and rock that rested upon her shoulder like a blanket. She couldn’t deny the unease that crept into her skin. How serious could a simple story be? She knew that somehow, whatever she was about to hear would soon change her outlook on Middle Earth and everything else that was to come.

“Before we answer your questions, my child,” Gandalf stated, setting the empty tankard he’d drained down upon a pro-offered tray by yet another canine. He shook his head as the dog offered him another, Bofur stepping quickly forward and snatching the stein from “We must first start with the beginning. As best we can, I should say. My memory is not as sharp as it once was, I’m afraid.” 

Aria watched as the wizard took another puff from his pipe, his eyes thoughtful as they trailed the smoke from the bowl as it disapated into the sky. She didn’t believe there was anything special about herself at that moment no matter how insistant Beorn seemed to be. However, there were some things she couldn’t deny witnessing. The flame from the tip of Gandalf’s finger, the goblins, her dormant sword that hung snugly under her hoodie, and the scar that still stung upon her face were things she could not pass of as mere figments of her imagination. They were real, all too real, and she still felt the aftermath of a few of them. 

“In this world, there are beings known as the Valar,” Gandalf began, a large ring of smoke floating from his lips and into the blue sky. “In the stories they are considered spirits, per say, that guide us on our many paths across Arda. Others consider them far more powerful and revered. They are acolytes of the great and most renowned, the All-Powerful, as they call him. Where in your world you have your diety. In ours, we call him Eru Iluvatar. According to the tales of old, he created all that you see.” 

Aria narrowed her gaze. “So he is like a god? Or like God?” 

Gandalf’s eyes narrowed as he tapped his chin with the stem of his pipe thoughtfully. “I know a little of what you speak from stories and I believe that would be a decent comparison. Like the God you speak of, he is central to most races within Middle Earth. He is one who is above all thrones to many as I have heard him called. However, like some of your ancient civilizations, he also had the Valar which you could possibly consider lesser gods. The Valar helped control the shaping of Arda, but they could not form life themselves. They could simply help form beings, but the sole responsibility for giving them sentience was up to Eru.” 

“Among the many Valar who had a hand in shaping this world is Yavannah.” Beorn stated breathlessly. It felt as if the very mention of her name was something to behold. “She is the giver of fruits, the lover of all things belonging to the earth. We call her the ‘Queen of the Earth.’” 

Gandalf nodded, “That is what some call her, yes.” 

“Why?” Aria asked. “Why is she called the Queen of the Earth?” 

Gandalf smiled. “She was the one who formed every blade of grass and leaf of a tree that you see around you. She is Mother to all animals and fauna within this land.” 

Aria glanced once again out into the vast bee pasture Beorn had led her through, the creatures buzzing about in their own worlds. She could see just how beautiful it all seemed, how vibrant it felt. There was something sacred about the flora and fauna of this new world, something she’d not noticed at all back home. Sure, it was said among all elderly ladies of who had created it and she wasn’t one to judge them. It felt similar to what she felt right then. Perhaps everything had been created by someone or something far more powerful than anything she’d currently met or would ever meet. That, however, made her shake her head, blaming the story she listened to and feeling shocked as to just how much a simple tale had already altered her mindset. 

“When Morgoth corrupted the land, and much of Arda darkened, Yavannah was one to bring back the beauty it once was.” Beorn stated, his eyes cast downward to his large boots. “She created the Two Trees and they gave life to the land. Like a beacon in the dark” 

“Right you are, Beorn,” Gandalf nodded toward their host in agreement. “Nasty business, Morgoth. We were just lucky that his successor had also been slain as well. Those days were dark, indeed. At least, from the stories they told me.” 

Aria doubted Gandalf had simply just heard the Bofur’s movement to sit upon the ground at Aria’s feet caused her eyes to shift to his, his gaze meeting hers with a wink before Fili followed suit and sat next to her opposite. Kili remained standing, scooting closer to her and Fili while eyeing the seat that Bofur had taken as if in regret faster. 

“Wasn’t Yavannah married to Aule, the one who made us dwarves?” Bofur asked, scratching his stubble upon his chin. 

 “Why, yes, you are quite correct. Very impressive, Master Bofur.” Gandalf beamed, tipping his pipe toward the dwarf. “What Master Bofur is saying is that Yavannah was in fact married to Aule, or the Great Smith. Or is, since we assume they are not dead. He was impatient when Iluvatar would not hurry up and make men and elves. So, he created dwarves.” 

Bofur nodded enthusiastically as the others congratulated him. Aria felt a sense of pride for him, but couldn’t deny her awe as her eyes widened, her brain flashing back to all of the various lessons she’d learned about Greek Mythology and that of other gods. There were many beings who had created various life forms and vast amounts of stories involving both. She’d seen first hand the books in which pictures were painted of the plethora of children sired or birthed by their powerful gods, defeating the beasts or doing good deeds that made them heroes. 

“We call him Mahal,” A familiar voice broke through the silence of the gathering. Aria turned quickly to find Thorin, his thick coat shod and large arms crossed over his chest. A cool breeze shifted through his dark mane, ruffling it as it spread upon the rust colored shirt he wore. Aria pictured the great Vala Aule creating someone like him. What had Aule used to make them? How long had it taken? 

“And what does that mean, Master Thorin?” Gandalf lifted an eyebrow toward the dwarf king. 

He stepped forward, his clear blue gaze shifting to Aria first before coming to a rest toward the wizard. “It means ‘The Maker’ in our language.”

“Which would be Khazedul.” Gandalf tipped the end of his pipe toward Aria. “Some of us do not know what language you speak.” 

Thorin snorted, but another flicker of his blues toward her softened his reprimanding and he simply nodded. “Very well. Yes, it’s in Khazedul. The language of all dwarves.” 

Aria blinked. It would make sense that everything had their own language. There were various cultures back home and with that came the abundance of spoken language. She pondered just how many there were in Middle Earth and how each sounded. Were they difficult to learn and if not, could she at least learn one? 

Her mind hurt at the thought and she shook her head. So much information passed among them in that moment, meaning there would be so much more to remember and to retain for her use. She felt as if she sat in a history class in school, the professor not just one person but three very knowledgeable beings speaking all at once. Her mind wasn’t big enough to absorb everything and she could herself flailing in an open ocean of lore she never knew existed. 

“Are they all…real?” Aria asked dumbly, her tongue sluggish like a snail inside of her mouth.  “Pardon my lack of grasping all of this. I mean, but it’s a lot all at once. Do they truly exist?”

“Since the Silmarils were stolen and the moon and the sun were created,” Gandalf stated over a puff from his pipe, “There has been little word of where they are and if they are still guiding us. But, to answer your question, yes. They were…are real.” 

“Wherever they are,” Bofur snorted, “We sure could use some guidance on this journey. I feel I could use some.” 

“What does this all have to do with me?” Aria ignored Bofur’s comment, choosing instead to attempt to comprehend the direction in which the entire conversation was going. 

“To answer your question, it is not known if Yavannah had any children with Aule. It’s rumored that she never did. However,” Gandalf stated, thoughtfully gazing into the sky. “Instead, after humans and elves were created, there were some who where lost. She took them under her wing, taught them her ways of the world. In the stories, she gifted them a portion of her powers and made sure these powers passed down to their kin.” 

“Powers?” Aria narrowed her gaze. “What do you mean by that?” 

“Well, an energy of sorts that give them abilities unlike others. Elves are more connected to nature I believe than humans are but the humans she raised were closer to nature as well than their comrades. What she mostly taught them and gifted them were  heightened abilities to work with and care for the earth and all that surrounded them. They were one with the natural forces of Arda.” Gandalf explained. “And, as expected, the descendants of her acolytes hold powers as well.” 

“They could heal themselves using nature.” Beorn nodded at the wizard. 

“I can’t do those things,” Aria scoffed, “When we were bathing in the river, my injuries weren’t healed. I haven’t talked to a single animal or had any sort of help from anything natural at all.” 

“Indeed, you may not have been able to heal yourself then,” Gandalf rose a bushy eyebrow at the girl. “But, it goes without saying that your Warg companion would argue our point.” 

“Wargs are not one of the many creatures Yavannah created, I don’t think,” Fili crossed his arms over his chest. “From the stories we were told, Wargs are creatures of evil and were made by the Dark Lord to serve the Dark Lord.” 

Gandalf chuckled. “Perhaps the Wargs we came in contact with were, but they had to come from somewhere, Master Fili.”

Everyone seemed to lean forward, the information perhaps far more important than Aria was catching on. It seemed to anger Thorin, his eyes cutting sharply toward the wizard. Beorn’s expression remained impassive, a wall of stone that she couldn’t read herself. Aria felt the welling of anxioty within her breast. The senstation of not knowing something important gripped her like a vice. Yet, she also the trepidation of what that knowledge held. 

“What do you mean?” Fili asked. 

“It was known long ago that there were other types of canid creatures such as the Wargs we know now. They were far different species, but similar in some ways. I had heard of Morgoth’s dark arts and how his armies had grown. I always believed they grew because from large quantities of recruited creatures willing to see the world burn.”

“That’s what all tha' stories say, Master Gandalf.” Bofur scoffed. 

“It was not entirely the case, Master Bofur,” Gandalf rose a bushy eyebrow. “Some were far peaceful creatures created forsaken by others except Yavannah. No one knows who created them, but she had taken them in, given them life and something new to live for, and they were grateful of her gifts.” 

“Impossible.” Thorin growled, throwin' a hand to the side as if to fight off the very statement the wizard had uttered. “All we were ever taught, and all we have seen are those who work for the Orcs.” 

Gandalf shrugged. “Believe what you will, Master Thorin. I do not make the rules nor do I write the stories. All I do is tell them.” 

“So,” Fili narrowed his gaze. “There weren’t always evil Wargs. Miss Aria’s companion is one of them?” 

Gandalf nodded. “Yes, but we digress. That ancient race of Warg is in tune with Yavannah’s gifts and her ways. Therefore, Miss Aria is somewhat connected to the Mother of the Earth far more than anticipated.” 

“So you are saying Miss Aria is an actual child of Yavannah? Or, perhaps in better terms, a descendent of one of Yavannah’s proteges?” Dori asked. “I find it hard to believe such a thing. No offense. She came out of nowhere and now, she’s shares powers with one of the great Valar?” 

Aria couldn’t take offense to Dori’s comment. She, too, wished to ask the same of the two beings telling the story. All she could do was simply blink at the proverbial fact that seemed too far fetched to be as such. She felt too shaken to reply to him, the moment passing like a whisper. 

Of all things Aria could be,  she could not someone so special as let alone someone descended, in a way, from a god-like spirit who helped create the earth. The very thought left her unimpressed and angry. Had she encounter odd stuff within herself or around her that normally wouldn’t occur on Earth? Of course she did. It went without saying that the land she now walked within was far different then home. It contained dwarves, goblins, and large eagles that would make the United States National bird appear like a chicken in comparison. Then, the entire ordeal concerning her “powers”. 

She, powerful? No. Not possible. 

Yet…

You can’t deny the stirring deep within you, A voice she hadn’t heard in a minute thrummed deeply within her. It’s a part of you and you know it. 

Stop! Her mind was a steel trap, fangs bared toward the voice that seemed to speak the truth. Why had he made himself known suddenly? Why of all times? You lie! 

Blood does not lie, he purred. Neither does the power within it. 

No, she felt her mind frantically attempting to justify her statement. Logic felt far away like a beacon of light within a fog. Yet, she could never reach it as it stood atop the highest mountain of doubt she’d ever seen. The doubt writhed around her in an inky black moat, tendrils of darkness lashing out upon the shores of her sanity in an attempt at grabbing hold of her. 

“She had no blood children, Gandalf.” Thorin growled. “How is Aria what you say she is?” 

His voice ripped her from her warring thoughts and stung a little as it left his mouth. He noticed the sudden stiffness in her form, his eyes sparking with worry for her before turning away to gaze upon the wizard and Beorn. He was right, however, and she shared similar concerns. 

“It goes without saying,” Beorn stated with a huff. “She is just as we state. There need not be any thing else said in doubt.” 

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Thorin grunted. “What proof do you have to prove that she’s a child of Yavannah?” 

Beorn growled. It was a deep sound that shook the ground beneath her. “I do not fancy a dwarf who doubts me and what I claim to be true. Are you that dwarf, Thorin Oakinsheild?” 

Around her the tension seemed to thicken. The air became hot and sticky like summer heat back in Oklahoma. Aria’s heart thundered, her mind screaming as she felt the animosity between the Thorin and Beorn rise and blacken the once clear vibrations among them. It was at that moment she wished for the earth to open and swallow her whole. She didn’t like fighting, especially when she was the subject. It happened very little in her previous life, but when it had, she felt like an ant under a magnifying glass on a particularly sunny day. 

So, she did what she knew she could do. She excused herself. She could feel everyone’s eyes upon her as she suddenly stood and turned away from the group. Her mind spun, the gears in her mind she’d attempted to keep oiled for such times of immense information had finally frozen. Her stomach clenched, threatening to unleash what little contents it help upon her sneakers. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, spilling in hot streams down her cheeks as she sped away. 

She hated how overwhelmed she felt sometimes. It was a piece of her lineage, her genetic makeup, that cursed her. She cared too much and, thus, felt everything all at once. There was no doubt within her that she’d wanted and needed to know everything Beorn and the wizard had spoken of. Everything hinted at a past she had never known to exist, a piece of her undiscovered. 

Yet, now, in the midst of it, she had felt as if she could no longer sit there and listen. A portion of her soul had screamed to run, to distance herself as far away as possible. She’d needed space. Space away from the barrage of knowledge that seemed too far fetched and impossible to believe. She needed distance from the fact that everything she’d ever known could possible not be. 

It was too much. 

“I am going back to the house,” She informed the group over her shoulder. “I’m really sorry. I think I’m still a little…” 

She didn’t finish, sobs beginning to choke her. Swiftly, she covered the distance between the group and the house, ignoring everything around her for fear that someone would see her breaking down.  She could feel Tane at the house, the familiar brush of his mind against hers. In that brief moment, he’d glimpsed how upset she was before she could block him. A wave of worry followed by his dark form met her immediately as she approached the building. 

She gave him a watery smile as he met her with his teal gaze, doing her best to mask the confusion and overwhelming need to cry from him. However, he already knew even if she’d refused to break down in front of him. He had felt it however little the moment had been. 

The Warg stepped up to her carefully as if she were a bomb fixing to burst and touched his snout to her shoulder. She could see his almost father-like worry within his eyes, the dark pupils blown wide. The wall she’d erected to bar her immense flood of emotions cracked under the pressure of simply needing to speak with him about it all. 

Did they tell you what they believe you are? Tane asked mindfully, measuring his words as not to stress her even more and she appreciated that. 

They are only assuming. She replied stiffly, sniffling. 

Care to walk? He stood, bumping her again with his glossy black nose. 

She sighed and nodded, burying her hand within the fur at his withers as he led her away from where she’d been and toward another portion of the garden. Vibrant flowers bloomed there, not unlike the others from where she’d been earlier. She heard nothing as far as the buzzing of bees, noticing the lack of life all together except for a plethora of monochrome figures skipping about in a large pasture. 

She gasped as her view clarified and she witnessed a herd of great, black and white horses galloping about through the grass. Their thick manes and tails billowed like beautiful sails behind them, reminding her of horses she knew from home. She’d forgotten their names, recalling only their beauty and well known coat patterns popular among horse enthusiasts. 

The horses ceased their frolicking, their heads and ears forward as the pair of other beings approached, pink nostrils flaring from their run or to smell the newcomers. Their large eyes observed the two, long lashes of white brushing the delicate bones of their face. A crisp breeze blew their long, curly manes and Aria noted she hadn’t seen anything so beautiful as those horses. 

Her mind briefly flipped to her comrades. Had they remained where she’d left them, discussing her as if she were the hottest topic on the morning news. The thought burned her slightly, but she dashed the ember. Her name had been whispered under many breaths back home before and she’d ignored them. She’d had to. Even now, if their topic revolved around her, she couldn’t care even if she knew she did. She’d never signed up for something like this, to become something far greater than a simple human girl trying to get home, and she wished she couldn’t be bothered. 

Assumptions still shine a light on what could still be true, child. Tane stated finally, when they had reached another shaded area far away from prying eyes and ears. The wall of bushes loomed over them, casting the grass in comfortable shadows pocked marked by breaks of sun drops. The horses had left them, choosing to snort and prance farther away and within eyesight of the pair. If what they say is correct, you are somewhat related to the Queen of the Earth. 

“How?” Aria spoke aloud but quietly, her brain too foggy to speak within it. “Gandalf and Beorn both stated she had no blood children. That’s impossible to be related to her. I’m no daughter of hers.” 

There are multiple meanings, Tane lifted his muzzle to the air and Aria absentmindedly brushed her fingers through the fur of his shoulder. You are no child of mine by blood, but yet I feel a closeness to you that garners parental feelings. You are my charge and I swore to protect you. That makes you almost like a cub to me. 

Aria nodded, feeling as if she understood the comparison far better than she had before. It made more sense to her. For what its worth, you are a pretty good dad.

The Warg snorted, shaking his head. I never experienced fatherhood. It was too late for me. 

I’m so sorry, Aria pressed her cheek to Tane’s shoulder.

It has passed, child. The Warg leaned into her. You do not make a bad cub, yet you lack much when it comes to fur. I will simply have to make sure you do not freeze to death during the winter. 

Aria laughed weakly, her chest aching still from the journey’s torment. Shaking her head, she nudged the Warg playfully. He chortled, a deep sound similar to a growl but lighter. They sat together under the shade of the tall bushes for what seemed like ages, watching the changing sun drops skuttling across the shadows like dancing fireflies. The wind wafted through the leaves causing them to whisper and twist like dancers. She noted that the air felt stuffier, almost akin to the summer breezes of home and she pondered Middle Earth and her seasons for a second. Perhaps she had her own like home. 

If given another circumstance, she would have enjoyed how the wind reminded her of the mountains back on Earth. Despite the slight humidity to the air, she still fancied it. Sliding her eyes closed, she allowed the peace to encompass her. Perhaps it was given by her Warg, or perhaps it was of her own making. She wasn’t entirely sure, but she figured it to be the last peace she would feel for quite some time. 

Then, she felt something heavy settle upon her shoulders. It wasn’t physical like a solid object. It was withered, like smoke that corroded the air she drank in. Something dark is coming, she thought. She could feel it in the breeze as it buffeted the leaves above the pair. She wasn’t sure where the thought had occurred or its source. She wasn’t even sure why she felt it. Yet, deep inside, she knew that their journey would not stop at Beorn’s. She knew nothing else besides what she’d already gathered from her grandmother’s stories. Yet, the sensation felt raw. If felt real, and it had her near to tears again. 

Questions soon formed inside her mind. Loads of them whipped and flashed, far too fast for her to catch many. Some she did gather made her worry. Would Gandalf soon leave them? What dark thing resided in the woods? Who were the woodland folk within it? 

The clearing of a throat caused her to gasp, ripping her from her thoughts. Her eyes flew opened to find Thorin standing before them both. His clear blue eyes regarded Aria with slight worry and a bit of apprehension. She wondered if he had come to seek her out, to bring her back to the group. She hoped he wouldn’t ask, knowing her answer would cause sadden him. 

“Did you come to bring me back?” She asked, turning her eyes from the dwarf and to the grass at her feet. 

“No,” He stated softly. “I have come to see if you wished to speak of it to someone with the same experiences.”

She looked at him , narrowing her eyes. “Speak of what?”

He tilted his head, his mane glinting in the buttery sunlight. If she’d not been too lost in her own mind to notice, she would have thought him handsome then. The light fell golden upon his dark and silver hair, igniting behind him like roaring flames from the maw of a dragon.  He crossed his large arms over his simple tunic, having shed his armor earlier on. Even as such, he appeared regal, seeming to be every bit of the king his comrades claimed him to be.

Then he opened his mouth to speak again. 

“Of what they claim you to be. He told her. “Did you think it to be glorious? Knowing you come from greatness?” 

She cut him a glare. “If you came to mock me, I’m not listening to it.” 

Beside her, Tane growled low in warning. Thorin held his palms up, eyes wide with caution. Yet, she noted, that he did not seem to shy away. He simply stood there, awaiting her invitation to join her as a gentleman would await the sign from a lady he’d been waiting upon. She shook her head of the thought, instead focusing upon the dwarf before her who couldn’t seem to have anything nice to say at all. 

“I did not come to mock you, Miss Jackson,” He stated, his cool blues softening. “I’ve come to help you. To listen to what you have to say when others will not.” 

She sighed, knowing that he would not leave. Even if she’d let Tane chase after him, the dwarf would return. Something about his demeanor screamed this and she couldn’t deny him even if she tried. It was her own fault she felt the need to strike out. It was her own anger and overwhelmed state of mind that found flaws in honest aid. She glanced at him again, noting the air in which he presented his concern. Others before him, back home, would have simply slapped on a fake, plastic smile. Their worry had been greasy and worthless. However, his was not. He was, in fact, genuine in his concern. For whatever reasons, she felt too tired to process. At that moment, she was far too worn down to even try. 

So, she let him in. 

He nodded, stepping forward to pick a seat beside her under the tree. Tane eyed Thorin wearily, glancing at Aria as if to ask if she’d truly allowed the dwarf king to sit with them. She slung him a stern look, keeping his mind at bay. She knew, later, there would be a plethora of questions on her actions. For now, however, she chose to quiet her mind to him. 

They sat in silence for a moment, the breeze once again flitting through her hair as she watched the leaves dance overhead. The sun was warm upon her skin and she was reminded, for what seemed like the thousandth time, of home. Oklahoma summers were not as comfortable, she recalled. 

“Does this remind you of your home?” Thorin’s voice was a rumble that broke the silence like distant thunder. She blinked, shaken from her reverie. 

“It does.” She stated. “How can you tell?” 

His blue gaze was soft again, as if he understood. “The look in your eyes. I have felt that way many times during this journey.” 

“Yeah,” she snorted, glancing down at her shoes, “You at least belong here. In Middle Earth. I don’t know where I even belong.” 

“Somehow, I know you understand that to be a false statement.” He chortled. It was a pleasant sound and one that felt surprising coming from someone who didn’t seem to laugh much. 

“Yeah, well, I’m not entirely sure what’s true and what isn’t, either.” She sighed again. 

“I have felt that as well.” He stated, gazing upward into the sky. “It seems to be my constant companion these days. That and the ever present annoyance of Bofur and his talk of how you two would make a lovely couple.” 

Aria couldn’t help herself. Through the overwhelming pressure of the knowledge she’d just obtained and the insanity of where she currently found herself sitting, she simply could not keep the burst of laughter that escaped her from doing so. It shot from her mouth and deep inside her soul, her eyes closing as she shook from the exertion. 

“What?” Thorin appeared baffled as Aria opened her streaming eyes. 

Through her fits of giggles, she managed, “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard this entire trip.” 

Thorin gave her a moment to collect herself, her lungs aching from the sudden outburst of laughter. She’d not done such a thing in so long, her body wondering as to why. It felt good, she noted. It lifted the darkness from her shoulder if only for a moment, allowing her to properly breathe again. 

“You look surprised.” He narrowed his eyes playfully as soon as she’s stifled down some. 

“This isn’t your typical attitude toward me.” She shrugged, wiping the tears from her eyes. “It’s just surprising. You actually made me laugh, Master Thorin.” 

It was his turn to laugh then, a bold and hearty sound that seemed to echo from everything around them. “That I did. Do you not think that is possible? Do you think so very little of me, Miss Jackson?” 

“Well, for one, you gave me little to go off of.” She shook her head, lifting her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs. “Can you blame me?” 

His expression grew somber and she regretted opening her mouth. He appeared less formidable to her then, more mortal than king. The weight of the world appeared to press down upon his shoulders, something she’d not witnessed or experienced before her trip here. He seemed less hardened as he sat there beside her in the waning sunlight and she believed, for one moment, that he was genuine. 

“I am very sorry about that. However, if you were me,” He stated, casting his gaze downward to the folded hands within his lap. They were strong, hardened by battle and work. She’d known the feeling of callouses and the tinge of dirt and grime under her fingernails. It had been so long, but she’d known it. “Wouldn’t you feel the same?” 

“I know we have had this conversation before,” She stated. “But, yes. I would have been weary of me as well. I was new and I was a stranger. This world hasn’t been kind to any of us. I would have done the same, I believe. At least for a moment.” 

Thorin nodded. “I hope that my apology and my mannerisms now will help change your mind or way of thinking.” 

She glanced at him, seeing the lines of his face and clear blue of his eyes. His salt and pepper mane billowed in the wind like that of a lion’s. He was strong, stubborn, and bore the face of a king. As she’d thought to herself earlier, she didn’t see a monarch there sitting beside her. She saw another living, breathing being who had faced harsh times prior to her arrival. He shared some of her experiences and offered his help to get her through it. Somewhere, inside her, he saw himself and aid was not something she found in abundance back home. Not after her grandmother passed. So, she couldn’t help but feel a tinge of warmth begin to spread through her at his wholesome offering. 

I may not know who I am now, she thought to herself. But, I know I can at least trust someone to help me figure it out. 

“It’s a start.” She replied to him finally, smiling as his shoulders relaxed. “Now, could you dumb down this entire Yavannah thing for me, please?” 

Chapter Text

“Catching my breath, letting it go. Turning my cheek for the sake of the show
Now that you know, this is my life. I won’t be told what’s supposed to be right.” – Kelly Clarkson, Catch My Breath

Thorin’s explanation of her situation shed light on the fact that Aria was, in fact, something she hadn’t intended. At least, that was what he believed. She didn’t and wouldn’t. Not unless there was something earth shattering that would prove to her she was. If she moved water, called an army of deer, or something else akin to that, she would become a believer. Now, however, all she felt was tired. 

The day soon bled into evening and Aria found the sky ablaze with brilliant hues of orange, purple, and reds. Again, she was reminded of home and how similar both sunsets were. She recalled sitting on her grandmother’s porch while the elder rocked in an old wooden chair. Aria would sit with her, staring out into the sky. She remembered the smell of her grandmother’s coffee, decaf of course, and how it mixed with the scent of pine and cedar. It had been summer mostly, the hot air sticky heat that caused her shirt to cling to her gangly frame like plastic wrap. The evenings had been quiet and peaceful long ago despite the heat. 

“I knew a place like this once,” her grandmother had told her as she knitted away on something in her lap. Aria could see oranges and blues. Something perhaps for a friend of the elder’s. “But the colors were far more vibrant.” 

“Where would that have been, Grandma? These sunsets are the prettiest I’ve ever seen. ” Aria laughed. 

“You best believe there are some better,” Her grandmother had smiled, “There is a place that has brighter sunsets, my dear. They definitely put these to shame. You’ll see someday.” 

That had been years ago, but somehow, Aria felt as if it had only yesterday. Her grandmother’s voice, the smell of the woods near her grandmother’s house, and many other things felt just out of reach. It made her heart clench with the need to return to those days she’d taken for granted so easily. 

“Miss Aria?” Thorin’s voice slowly and carefully brought her to the surface of the well of memories she fallen into. “Are you alright?”

She drank in the now cooled air of the evening, detecting the hints of pine and cedar again. Turning to him as he sat next to her on the grass, she nodded. Tane had lain beside her, his tail curled slightly around her protectively against the dwarf or out of habit. His eyes were closed, the soft breaths of his slumber alerting Aria that he hadn’t been too worried about the dwarf king at all. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She stated with a huff. “Sorry. I just got lost in thought for a moment. The sunset reminded me of someone long ago.” 

Thorin nodded, a slight smile quirking at the edge of his lips. His clear blues regarded her, understanding flickering within them like a blue flame. “I get lost in my own mind quite often as well.” 

She blinked, unable to fathom the rugged dwarf king losing himself to a warring mind or memories that caused his heart to break. To her, he wore not only physical, fur covered armor that gleamed in the brilliant light of the sun, but the expected emotional armor. A facade if she ever saw one that hid his true, vulnerable self from the world so it didn’t eat him. It reminded her that she, in fact, knew little of his past.  It reminded her of his statement earlier, the one that mentioned how he shared a similar situation to hers now. 

“When you came up to me earlier, you said you were someone who shared a similar experience to me.” Aria stated, cocking her head to the side and regarding him as a swift rush of air passed through them smelling of baking. She ignored it, focusing instead upon her what she wished to ask. “What did you mean?” 

Thorin’s clear blues glittered at her for a moment like a million sapphires sealed under glass before he turned his gaze out toward the garden and upon the various activities that had seemed to have picked up. Tane flicked his ears, slowing lifting his head and scenting the air. Aria followed his gaze, the smell of baking from earlier growing stronger. The shadows had lengthened, casting darkness in various corners. Delicate, orange light began to spill from the windows and onto the various bushes and flowers of the garden in a comfortable, silky wave. Somewhere inside, she could see the canines moving about in what she assumed would be dinner preparations. 

“I wasn’t always a leader,” Thorin’s voice brought her attention to the question she’d asked. It was deep, a darkness like ink within it reminding her of a storm. A storm she had known before. It wasn’t malicious and house the ability to shred light and positive things. It was sorrowful, worn upon ones heart like a badge of honor he’d garnered long ago. He did not wish for others to know this pain, this sadness. He wished to learn from it himself, to take action against it. In a way, he’d let it define him to be better. “Before the kingdom fell and before the dragon. I was my father’s protege, but I did not have many duties. With him being the next in line, I was without a station and without the burden of worrying about filling my father’s shoes.” 

“Somehow, I can’t imagine that.” Aria quirked a brow and Thorin shook his head. “You seem very task oriented now.” 

“Well, after the fall of our kingdom, I had to become responsible. Back then, I was in charge of a few things, but mostly I went about my days doing whatever I wished.” He stated, glancing down at his boots. “It was expected of me to act a certain way and follow what my father had ordered me to do, but I didn’t like that. I would have rather hammered away at metal in the smithy than sit and enjoy lavish dinners or strategize plans of how to expand our kingdom with my father or grandfather.” 

Aria scoffed. Truly, his words sounded foreign to her. Thorin Oakenshield doing as he pleased non-chalantly? Sure, she had noted the fancy armor he wore and how it seemed far more spectacular than the battlefield he now found himself on. Yet, his demeanor was far different. He was an ass, of course, but he was also a leader. If she kept in mind his actions toward her before, she merely assumed they were simply what he would have done to any other stranger. He did what was right to protect his company. 

“I can’t see you doing what you wished nor can I see you living in luxury,” Aria nodded to herself. “ That life doesn’t seem to fit you. Sorry if that is bold of me to say.” 

Thorin smiled. It was small but it seemed to meet his eyes, sparkling within his clear blues as they . “No need to apologize. You are the first to tell me this. I take it as a compliment.” 

 She blinked, leaning forward with her elbows upon her knees. She was genuinely curious. “You were saying…” 

Thorin’s face reddened. Or at least, from what Aria could see past his thick beard. The tips of his slightly pointed ears gained color, his eyes darting down to his boots again. He placed his hands upon the grass and she glanced down at them for a moment, noting how worn and calloused they were. They were working hands, like a farmer’s or a cattlemen’s back home would be. They had seen labor, had dug through the nastiness of the world and had built things with the left overs. She’d had similar hands when her grandmother had been alive. 

“I am sorry,” Thorin’s voice waivered with unease. Was he embarrassed? “I digress. I share a similar experience with you because I got thrust into a position I had no intention of inheriting so quickly.” 

Aria blinked. “What happened, Thorin?” 

His eyes snapped to hers with lightning quickness. It was as if she’d asked him to run her through with a blade. His face fell, all redness from his embarrassment before long gone. The darkness she’d detected from earlier had returned, a sense of foreboding lurking just beyond what she could see upon his face. The question held the power of a bullet even if such a thing didn’t belong in this world. It was a knife to the throat, a white elephant in a room far too small to fit it. 

Had she done something wrong by asking? She wracked her brain on what she’d heard from others about the very reason they’d started the journey in the first place. She wasn’t sure she knew the entire story. At least, not from his perspective. Could the very reason behind their trek be the entire reason he gained a new title? 

“I-I…” He stammered, chest rising. 

“You know what,” Aria drank in the cool air, choosing to not pursue her own curiosity. Something about the question had not been right. She shouldn’t have asked it, she thought. “You don’t have to answer that if it’s too difficult.” 

The dwarf king rose quickly and Aria cursed her stupidity. He’d been through so much over so many years and it should have been apparent to her to leave the subject be. Years meant months, days, hours, and minutes to relive horrors of the past. The past was supposed to stay there unless someone needed it to aid them. She knew this. She’d used hers to help herself or she’d shoved it down so far unless she had needed it. 

Her heart sped within her chest as her eyes widened to see his clear gaze begin to cloud. Fear, anger, sadness, and a plethora of other emotions clouded his features. It was as if the horrid spring storms of Oklahoma had found their way to Middle Earth. She wished to stop the descent, to halt the agony that was taking place right before her eyes. She wished to apologize for her actions, anything to help him. 

He appeared to her like a deer caught in the blinding lights of a vehicle. Along with the wide, fearful look within his gaze, a million other things raged on as he seemed to battle within himself. She’d done something similar, having warred with her own demons when someone asked her how she’d gotten a black eye or bruises upon her arms. In the end, she’d simply resorted to lying. It was all she could do. If she didn’t, things would have been far worse with the involvement of the authorities. 

“I’m…” She attempted as she rose to meet him, her brain unable to register the fact that she should speak to him before he rushed away as it appeared he wished to. Panic set in, rendering all thoughts lost and she wished to cry then. A sting of tears threatened to fall, beading at the corners of her eyes like melting ice. She turned her head away, attempting to bite back the unsettling wave of anxiety and fear of failure. 

She thought they had gotten along. If she were honest, he’d made great progress in refraining from degrading her anymore than he had before the goblins. They had shared more conversations of late compared to before and she couldn’t help but admit that she rather liked it. He wasn’t as much of a pompass ass as she’d first thought and he’d been intelligent, witty, and somewhat humorous. It had given her heart hope at being able to get along with him, helping make her journey through the foreign land a little easier. 

Now, it felt as if she’d shattered that fragile lattice work that was their acquaintance. Her blundering mouth and lack of couth seemed to have gotten her into trouble and she wasn’t sure how to back out the growing hole that she’d formed. She felt shame, sorrow, and anger welling up within her. Right then, she wished the earth would have opened up and swallowed her whole. 

However, out of everything she’d experienced in her time in Middle Earth, through every horror and surprise filled day and night, she had yet to be entirely blindsided by the fact that someone could forgive her boldness. Thorin’s eyes, seconds ago filled with fear and sadness, now calmed to his clear blue. His face slackened, his features soft for the first time in what seemed like ages. She was shocked, to say the least. He had surprised her yet again, for the first time, or whatever. She wasn’t sure. 

“I am sorry,” He stated, glancing down his boots. “To think of those days brings back pain that I have yet to shed.” 

It was her turn to feel heart ache. She felt her muscles tense, the need to rest a hand upon his forearm so powerful, she couldn’t help but follow through. His arms were still clad in the dark shirt he’d worn earlier, the sleeves made of a thick material she’d yet to identify. She rose from the grass and stepped forward. 

The sleeve was rough under her fingertips as she gently placed them upon his arm. His flinch was small, but noticeable to her, his eyes blown wide at the sudden contact. His skin was warm beneath his shirt sleeve, the type of warmth that she’d find herself wishing to have draped over her like a blanket. She felt her face heat, the sudden realization of what she’d done overwhelming her immediately. She whipped her hand from him, vying to shove them in the pocket of her jeans. Quickly, he gripped one before she let them fall. His fingers were worn as he squeezed her fingers lightly. 

“I am very sorry I brought it up,” She stated, her heart racing, eyes darting between their hands. “You seriously don’t have to go into it.”

He let her hand go quickly, noting her nervous stare. She turned and sat upon the grass once more, averting her gaze everywhere else but him. Above them, the faint hints of the day faded away to dark blue velvet and twinkling stars. She stared at the darkening sky and attempted to quell her thundering heart. 

 Oh, how stupid could she be? She knew not their customs. Was a simple touch of reassurance marked as something entirely different to dwarves? What has his action meant? The last thing she wanted was for him to think something entirely wrong compared to what she’d attempted to do. 

A few moments passed in silence and she wondered if she’d truly made a mistake. The urge to rise and leave him there grew, her muscles tensing. 

“No,” Thorin finally spoke, clearing his throat and stepping forward to sit beside her again. “I am the one who brought it up. I must finish the story.” 

Aria felt herself relax a little. Her heart quieted itself within her chest, but she couldn’t deny a sensation that she wasn't entirely in the clear just yet. Somehow, a tense feeling hung between them. It was electrified like hot wire. She didn’t dare push him into telling his story nor did she pull away. Instead, she sat there with bated breath awaiting his continuation. She hoped, for the sake of her sanity and his feelings, that she didn’t appear too rattled by his sudden actions. 

“My grandfather fell into a sickness of sorts,” He stated, lifting his chin to the heavens. She could see a glittering in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. From her soul, Aria knew that it wasn’t good and the thought of seeing this rugged dwarf in a state of vulnerability left her somewhat confused. 

“What type of sickness?” She asked, her voice small. She was afraid of presenting too much emotion, the subject a frightful deer on the brink of bolting. 

“They called it Dragon Sickness.” He sighed, watching his hands wring within his lap.

“Dragon Sickness?” Aria felt her brow quirk. 

Thorin nodded, his clear blues flicking to hers before dropping to his hands again. It seemed, to her, that the very subject wasn’t something to joke about. She could eke an air of trepidation as one would eke the sensation of scrutiny from silent parents. She quieted herself, proceeding with caution as she felt he was opening up to her. A very huge mile stone, if she were honest. 

“Dragon sickness. An ailment the elves claimed to cause greed, selfish and irrational behaviors.” Thorin growled. “Over the years, my grandfather’s wealth became great. There were mounds of gold and jewels that compared to no one’s horde. Soon, others flocked to our halls just to see it and he grew more irate and mad with each prying eye. The woodland elves even came to us for help with some gems that my grandfather had stolen. It grew worse after that, even. My grandfather was soon absent from greeting these parties, being more interested in what glittered than his own kin.” 

A venom spewed from Thorin. It was hot and thick like molten lava and as black as the blood that had once disgraced her skin in the pit of death. She’d heard such a rage before within herself as she spoke of her foster family. She bit back more than she could spew in those days for fear of it reaching the ears of those she shared a roof with. Instead, she hoped that the clipped words and red face she’d worn would have helped explain her mistreatment. It never did, and that rage still blazed within her. 

“He’d been warned,” Thorin hissed, the fierceness in his gaze heavy. “So many times by others and yet, he disregarded it. I never wished to call my grandfather one, but he was a fool for not heeding the concern we all shared for him.” 

She wanted to reach out to him again and damned her very soul for thinking such a thing. If she could relay her pity, she would have, but understood that he possibly didn’t want it. Not everyone did no matter how sorrowful a tale they told. He seemed the type that didn’t take pity lightly as he’d not been given some or had been given too much in the past. She wasn’t sure, but she stayed her hand once again and choose instead to listen further. 

“When we heard the thunder, we thought nothing of it. We were more worried of where he had been and the responsibilities he’d forfeited because of his ailment.” Thorin sighed. “We normally wouldn’t care about outside matters, but my grandfather had stolen something important to another realm. We didn’t fancy the elves too much, but to steal something that belonged to them was outrageous.” 

Aria nodded, outraged at his grandfather herself. 

“The dragon came,” Thorin’s voice dripped with sorrow and Aria felt her heart clench. “He tore everything apart to get to that cursed gold, leaving us homeless and ripped to pieces like my kin who lost their lives at his talons. I was a prince when I was not prepared to be.” 

Aria did reach out to him then, for what seemed like the thousandth reason. She couldn’t fully understand what he’d gone through, having not experienced a dragon ransacking her home. She’d known sorrow and its nasty taste before. That she could share with him in a way. However, his burden of anger and sadness was far too heavy to match her own. He carried the weight of his people upon his shoulders, something she didn’t understand and couldn’t. Not fully. The fate of his father and grandfather? She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to hear that story just yet. Something told her it was far more horrible than she could ever imagine. 

He didn’t flinch when her hand met his forearm again. Instead, he glanced at her with the horrid sadness he’d held in his eyes. Somehow, she felt that sensation seeping into her heart like dark ink. It stuck to her veins and blackened her thoughts, morphing them into ones of horror. She could almost hear the screams of his comrades as  the dragon’s breath blistered them to the bone. She felt the heat slither up and down her skin like snakes of fire, lacing their way through her soul to sink their fangs within her very core. 

“I’m truly sorry, Thorin.” She stated as best she could manage, the sting of tears threatening her very dignity. “I can’t say I share a similar experience, but I have felt loss before.” 

Thorin’s clear blues seemed to reach for her as well as he continued to gaze into her own eyes. It seemed he wished to ask about what she had lost, but something kept him from diving into her past and she was thankful for it. Instead, he simply nodded, turning to look out into the night sky once again. 

Aria felt Tane shift beside her and turned her attention to her Warg companion. His head lifted, ears perked in the direction of the house. A door opened with a creak, soft light spilling onto the darkened path just outside the stable. A figure she recognized as Bilbo popped from inside, stepping with a pep across the gardens and toward them. 

“Dinner is ready,” He announced with a smile, oblivious to the darkened aura that hung among the two sitting in the grass. “Hurry up, the both of you, before it gets cold.” 

Somehow, something shifted with his hasty words. The darkness faded like fog in the sunshine, leaving the two who had felt it worst to feel nothing at all but the pangs of hunger. Thorin glanced at Aria and she returned it, a smile tugging at her lips. He matched this with his own and the trio upon the grass rose to meet the Hobbit who awaited them while tottering on the balls of his hairy feet. 

********

The tantalizing aroma of food hit her nostrils as soon as the trio entered Beorn’s home. The warmth of a great fire and many torches caressed her skin, chasing the cold she’d felt earlier. Beorn busied himself over a large cauldron, the blaze within the hearth the source of the greatest heat. He stirred the contents of a gigantic, black kettle with a wooden ladle as tall as she was. He spared a glance her way in a silent greeting to the three before turning back to Dori who aided in adding ingredients to the pot. 

Merriment surrounded her again, lively voices like music to her ears as she stepped up to the large dining table and took a seat next to Bilbo. The Hobbit had sat long before she’d entered and she listened to the deep conversation he found himself in between Fili and Balin. The former boasted about their journey and his need to protect “Miss Aria” and just how he could take on an entire horde of goblins again with his very sword. Balin, who seemed amused with the tirade from the younger dwarf, blinked with widened eyes and nodded without a word. Tane sidled up to Aria’s side, bumping her with his nose before turning to lay behind her against the wall. She felt him there, his mind caressing hers and easing her worries. 

She still couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous from the day’s previous encounters and the information she’d learned. As she sat, Aria could feel eyes upon her, boring down under her skin. Whereas she would expect the sensation from a group far different then hers, she was immensely surprised to find that was not the case. She realized that they were not ones of disdain or judgement. Instead, they felt accepting or indifferent. Perhaps, in a way, slightly understanding. Her heart warmed at the thought of something so drastic happening but no one seeming to mind it. Perhaps extraordinary was the everyday norm in Middle Earth and her sudden exposure to it was just another feather in her cap of extraordinary experiences. Her anxiety faded a little, ebbing away into one of fondness and relief.

“Miss Aria!” Fili broke from his in depth conversation with Balin. The latter appeared relived for the sudden distraction of the younger dwarf, his eyes alight as he nodded toward her. 

“Fili.” She tipped her head to him. “What are we having tonight?” 

A large shadow maneuvered itself behind her, placing a large bowl upon the table directly in her eyeline. Curls of steam spiraled from the dark brown broth within and the most enticing smell tantalized her nostrils. Her stomach roared to life, the last time she’d eaten feeling as if it were years ago. She glanced at their host as he loomed over her, his eyes bright with mirth. 

“Vegetable stew with ginger.” Beorn rumbled, turning away from her to delve out more bowls to the others. A few of her comrades rose to take their bowls themselves and she watched as they sat and began to dive into their meals. Beorn had provided them each a wooden spoon, the utensil far too large and comically clunky in the hands of their much smaller users. The sound as they made contact with their bowls was calming to Aria and she dug into her own meal, the spoon she held still somewhat too big for her hands. 

The stew tasted like heaven. The warm broth was tangy and sweet, the vegetables ripe and cooked to perfection. She noted the lack of meat within it, remembering that Beorn seemed a friend to all animals. She could not see him slaughtering something for food. The others didn’t seem to mind, their hunger far stronger than their preferences of proteins sources. 

To her right Bilbo calmly sipped his stew without much gusto as the others. Forever the gentleman, she thought. He sat straight, a dark cloth tucked into the collar of his shirt as he steadily lifted the gargantuan spoon to his lips and drank the broth. Her insides warm and, for a moment, she wondered if it was the soup at all. Despite the fact that she learned something about herself that altered her outlook on life, she told herself to forget it right then and enjoy the serenity of the moment. 

Thorin took the seat to her left, his warmth melding in with the comfortable heat of the room. His bowl steamed as he gingerly blew upon the spoonful of broth and consumed it. She nodded at him, a moment of silent understanding passing between the two, before she continued on her own meal. She contemplated eating another helping, the possibility of a full meal in their future perhaps being bleak. 

“How do you like your meal?” Beorn’s voice wrapped around her, causing her to jump slightly. He bent over behind her to place another bowl in front of Tane and she smiled. 

“It’s wonderful!” She exclaimed. 

Beorn nodded, smiling slightly. “Would you like another bowl, child?” 

She felt the tug of guilt at her gluttony, suddenly wanting nothing more than to decline. However, he took her bowl without allowing an answer and she wondered why he even asked in the first place. She opened her mouth to argue, but clapped it shut as he placed another filled to the brim in front of her. Her stomach roared again and she smiled, choosing to dig in and refrain from saying anything. 

“Master Thorin,” Gandalf, who had been across the giant dining table from Aria, cleared his throat. “This will be our last day here in Beorn’s company. On the morrow, you are to head to the edge of Mirkwood. That will be the next leg of your journey.” 

“Mirkwood?” Bilbo asked as he placed his spoon within his empty bowl. “Where is Mirkwood and what is it?” 

“It is the most vast of forests within Arda,” Beorn rumbled, pouring milk for a few of the dwarves. “It’s edge is not very far from my home.” 

“Why must we go through it?” Aria asked, placing her spoon down as well. 

“It is the quickest way to get to Lake Town.” Gandalf stated, “It stretches for miles and miles on either side and is almost impossible to go around unless we wish to far surpass our deadline.”

“Deadline?” Aria quirked a brow. “We are on a deadline?” 

“We must reach the Lonely Mountain by the last light of Durin’s day.” Balin stated, “It is the last day of autumn when the sun and the moon share the same sky.” 

Thorin paused with his spoon in the air, his mouth opened to receive it. “You speak, Gandalf, as if you will not be there with us. Where will you be?” 

A slight bit of panic stirred in Aria’s heart at the promise of their elderly companion being absent. However, she somehow knew that he wouldn’t be. She watched as Gandalf dug out his pipe from within his gray robes. He proceeded to pack it and light it, perhaps choosing to avoid answering right away due to the sudden announcement he’d made. The air about the dining hall fell silent, her comrades having abandoned their meals to listen to the conversation at hand with wide eyes. 

“I have received word of pressing business in the south,” Gandalf stated, puffing upon his pipe. A smoke ring escaped his lips as he chewed upon the mouthpiece. “I am to leave in the morning after bidding you farewell.” 

Aria didn't react. Instead, she shifted her gaze to Bilbo’s who shared a similar look of astonishment and worry as the others. Despite the lack of reaction, a million thoughts still fluttered through her mind. She couldn’t remember a time when Gandalf had not been beside them except for in the Goblin caves. Chaos had ensued in his absence, much to the party’s dismay. When he finally arrived, he’d aided them in their time of need and all had seemed well. She couldn’t imagine the remainder of their journey without him and the panic she’d felt earlier became a gaping hole of uncertainty. Gazing around the room, it appeared the others shared similar feelings. 

“Do not mourn my absence too much,” Gandalf ordered with a smile. “I hope to be finished with my business soon and return to you when it is finished.” 

“When will that be?” Dori’s voice echoed them all, worry dripping within the question. He couldn’t take long, Aria believed. They couldn’t last without him. Could they? 

Gandalf’s expression hardened, his eyes upon Aria for a moment before flicking to the dwarf speaking. “I am not sure, Master Dori. The business is rather important and I must not miss it.” 

Aria’s eyes narrowed at the wizard. What business did he have to deal with in the south? She couldn’t recall much on the story her grandmother had told her. What she did remember, however, was that it was a large scale problem. Something ancient had returned, perhaps, and needed him and others of similar power. From there, though, she couldn’t place the exact details. 

“What can be more important then helping us through Mirkwood?” Ori asked sheepishly albeit a bit pleadingly, his gaze nervous at it scanned his comrades. “I-I heard the forest is dark and dangerous. We need someone powerful to aid us through it.” 

Gandalf waved the shaky dwarf’s comment away. “You need no such thing, Master Ori. You and your comrades are just as strong to get through that dreadful place. Now, if she doesn’t mind, I would like to hear another song from Miss Aria.” 

There were a few protests on Gandalf’s clear avoidance of the subject he’d brought up himself, but they died quickly as all eyes fell hopefully on her. Of course, they were not threatening. They were hopeful, as if her voice was the very thing needed to rid them of the horrible news they had just heard. She could feel the tension, the dread, that spread through the company at the thought of Gandalf’s absence. She owed them a little bit of solace, she thought. She’d been fed and she’d been warmed by their presence. She could do this much. 

“What’s everyone in the mood for?” She asked cheerfully, pushing down her own dread and rising from her chair. 

She watched as their heads turned toward each other, the rumbling of discussion like the buzz of a bee in her ears. Beorn watched on with amusement, Gandalf choosing to refrain from putting any opinion in the matter lest he open up the can of worms he’d done earlier. His blue eyes flicked to her in what seemed to be a moment of gratefulness before he turned them again toward the company. It seemed her question had sparked deep discussion among the dwarves as they took their time figuring out what they wished to hear from her. 

She flicked her gaze to Bilbo and Thorin. Each watched their comrades with the same expression of amusement as their host. Thorin’s gaze flicked to hers and surprised her with a smirk that seemed genuine compared to the condescending ones she’d experienced from him before. She matched it with a smile, feeling as his expression was one of encouragement or along the lines of one.  At least, she led herself to believe that and keep it that way. 

After what seemed like a very extended amount of time discussing it, Bofur met Aria’s gaze with a smile. “Why don’t you choose, lass? Something joyous and uplifting’ if ya could.” 

Aria huffed. All of that discussion. Of course. Her choice. 

Shaking her head and barely containing the splitting smile, she drank in a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, everyone. Something joyful. Let me think.” 

There were so many she could choose from and some of them in which she barely remembered. Had it been that long since she’d been on Earth and heard actual music? She went through the hours and years of her life’s soundtrack, searching for just the right one that would serve the purpose. Something that she could sense the sunshine in, something that would bring a bubbling joy to her soul and have her shaking her hips to the beat. 

Then, after a moment of rifling through the various CD’s in her head, she found it. 

It was a song by Kelly Clarkson, one of her all time favorite artists. When Aria had been younger and the song had been popular, it had seemed to be the perfect explanation for her life. It brought her up after things had knocked her down and Aria had forever burned the words into her brain. It shouldn’t have been hard to find the right one, but this song seemed to have been buried in the many layers of stress she’d endured since then. Much like an old newspaper covered in dirt and grime while forgotten on the sidewalk, Aria bent over to pick it up and wipe the debris away. 

Clearing her throat, she paced her breath to begin. 

“I don’t wanna be left behind,” She began, her voice catching before she cleared it again. “Distance was a friend of mine,” 

*******

After the bowls had been cleared and the song had finished, Aria sat among the company enjoying the conversation. They were cheeful, conversing upon the matters of the morning to come and the lack of Gandalf. It seemed, after her song, that the words had lifted their spirits somewhat. She figured they realized Gandalf couldn’t always be there for them. Not during a journey like this. He was not just a guide, but something far larger than any of them could imagine and would possibly be needed by others. Her mind wondered to her grandmother’s stories again, to his role in it. He’d guided them, sure, but there had been something else troubling him. She pondered on the darkness she’d vaguley recalled from the story, the thing that was far larger than any of them combined. 

 Aria sighed. Her tired mind felt thankful she was no longer required to perform or think further. She feared she wouldn’t last long if she was asked. She was still unsure of how to respond to the woe of the wizard leaving on the marrow, but as she’d thought earlier, she figured her hard headed dwarven companions would figure something out if not power through it as best they could. 

“So,” Dori leaned forward toward the aformentioned wizard who puffed upon his pipe again. “What can we look forward to in Mirkwood?” 

Gandalf quirked an eyebrow and Aria felt as if the question were impossible to answer. “Look forward to, Master Dori? Well, I believe you must be referring to the journey through it, am I right?” 

Dori nodded along with the others. “Aye. What dangers await us?” 

Aria narrowed averted her gaze from watching Fili and Kili bicker lighlty toward the dwarf who had asked the question. The air seemed to shift suddenly, becoming heavy like a tarp filled with rain water. It was an awkward feeling, her skin cold and suddenly clammy as she shifted in her seat. 

Gandalf sighed, a sound Aria knew all too well when one was close to giving up. She couldn’t help but sense that he would rather not answer the question. Yet, with all eyes upon him, he couldn’t ignore it. Aria could feel his pride wafting there in small batches like the tiniest hints of a fragrance upon the wind. Gandalf was wise, sure, and mostly humble. At times, though, she felt as if him to be one to flaunt his wisdome at times. 

In this case, however, he wished to keep that knowledge and wisdom at bay. 

“Well,” Gandalf spoke over his pipe as he drug in the contents with gusto, the smoke upon the exhale white as it billowed from his nostrils. “The forest is dark and filled with dangers beyond what I can comprehend. I have heard rumors of things from Radagast, the brown of my order. I have yet to confirm if they are correct.” 

“Aye,” Bofur nodded, leaning his elbows upon the table. “I recall we met him not too far back before we happened upon Miss Aria here. Funny fellow. Had a bird nest in his hair.” 

Aria scrunched her nose. “Sounds like a very interesting character.” 

Ori nodded readily. “Yes. He was. I saw the whole nest meself. He took his hat off and…” 

Gandalf cleared his throat. “As I was saying, Master Dori,”

Ori retreated within himself with a look of utter embarrassement so clear, she feared he would shatter like porciline. She told herself she would comfort him later and tell him that all would be well. She shot a narrowed gaze toward the wizard, but he paid her no mind. Puffing upon his pipe once more, he slowly blinked and began his explanation again. 

“Radagast speaks of darkness and evil. I’m not too sure what he is referring to, but it is part of the reason for my leaving you all in the morning.” Gandalf spoke over his pipe. “I’m not entirely sure what darkness Radagast speaks of, but I will find out from the head of my order whom I am scheduled to meet with.” 

It seemed as if it were a logical explination. Aria didn’t blame the wizard. Something so dark causing him worry was enough to schedule a gathering with those who know more or would know more about what to do. She pondered on her thoughts from before, knowing the story her grandmother had told her involved something dark, but it had been far too long to remember excactly what Gandalf spoke of. She wasn’t sure what would be expected in the darkned forests. What could be done, and would be, was figuring out how to make it through. 

“With dangers aside, Gandalf,” Aria cleared her throat, “How can we avoid the darkness and the danger? Is there something to help us get through all that?” 

Gandalf’s eyes brightened as if he’d waited for a question that veered from discussing his important matters to another subject that caused less stress. 

“I am glad you asked, Miss Jackson. The forest is home to the Nandor, or wood-elves ruled by King Tharanduil. For centuries, they have used a path that is part of the Menn-i-Naugrim. In common tongue, this portion of the path is known as the elf-path,” Gandalf explained. 

“The ‘elf-path’?” She repeated, lowering her eyes to the table in thought. It sounded familiar to her and, of course, her mind wondered to her grandmother’s tale. “Isn’t there something wrong with it? Or something that it goes through that can cause us to have issues?” 

Gandalf’s eyes quirked upward. “Possibly. How very perceptive of you. Everyone must stay on this path througout the entire journey and refrain from stepping off of it.” 

 “The path crosses over what most call ‘The Enchanted River’. It’s waters are poison to any who drink from it.” Beorn grumbled, “I will provide you with plenty so as you do not risk drinking from it.” 

“Poison?” Thorin asked, his gaze flicking to Aria’s in worry before meeting their host’s once more. “What do you mean by that?” 

Gandalf sighed again, clearly unwilling to dive any deeper into the explanation than he needed to. He was tired and Aria didn’t blame him. No matter how elderly he appeared, he still bore a heavy aura of worry that hung over his head like a dark rain cloud. Something plagued his mind that he didn’t wish to share and she wondered if he ever would. What could be so worrisome and so horrid, that kept him from divulging any information to their party. 

Aria couldn’t help but feel a slight sting of anger toward the wizard, then, however. She understood his worry even though she didn’t understand the reason behind it. But, if there could be something dangerous ahead of them, besides the given dragon noone seemed to speak about, she wished for him to tell them. It would benifit them, wouldn’t it? It could keep them from making horrid desicions or prevent the unwarrented loss of life. She didn’t want to imagine what it would be like to witness a death of one of the company. It would break her, she figured. 

“Any who drink from the river,” Gandalf blew white smoke from his nostrils, “are subject to unwarrented sleep and foregetfulness.” 

The others glanced at their neighbor sitting beside them, eyebrows lifted with skeptisim and dis-belife. Thorin cast Aria another look, this time narrowing them as if to ask her if she truly believe what the wizard said was true. She drank in the air around her, smelling the deep scent of the wood structure mingled with the food and scent of warmth. At any given point, she had not questioned Gandalf much. She had learned the similarities between the wizard of her grandmother’s story and this one were almost uncanny. He was wise, humble in a way, and determined to see their journey to the end. He did leave them in the story, refelcting what Gandalf would do to them when the sun rose upon the next day. So far, she had no reason to doubt him or think any less of his knowledge and wisdom. 

She wasn’t about to believe any less of his statement now. 

“Well,” Bofur sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “Bombur doen’t need to worry about all that. He’s that way all of the time.” 

Bombur, who had been quite the entire time shoving more cheese into his mouth, growled at his brother before tucking back into his meal. 

 Tane stepped beside Aria, his large body radiating warmth against her skin. She placed a palm against his thick neck, burying her fingers into the dense black fur there. 

I have heard of this forest path long ago, Tane remarked with a huff. It is dark and dangerous there, but something far darker has wriggled its way into the ancient trees. Something more horrible than what the wizard is saying. 

Aria glanced at the Warg. What do you mean? I remember my grandmother’s story saying something similar, but I can’t remember. 

He shook his large head, teal eyes narrowed as if thinking back far into his memories. I am unsure, Cub.Your grandmother’s story might share parallell events. I do know, though, that it is not a journey to take lightly. It worries me what we will see ahead. 

Aria turned to stare at the table, her mind wondering on what she’d been told. As the murmur of discussion continued on, she drowned them in her own thoughts and what Tane had spoken of. She kept her mind open to her Warg, his push questioning and curious. 

You are worried about the forest? Why? She asked him. What is out there that could be so bad? 

I’m not entirely sure, Tane shook his ears, blinking his teal eyes against the thoughts. I only know what was rumored long ago. None of these tales were good.

*******

That night, as the company had tuckered themselves out with stories and more relaxed conversation, they had cleared the dining hall and meandered away to their respected bedding areas. Aria excused herself, turning down Tane’s offer to accompany her outside with concerns of his own tiredness. Reluctantly, he turned and left her to her own divices. Eventually, Aria found herself outside, sitting upon one of the varous wooden benches dotting the garden. She faced toward the garden, her eyes cast toward the darkness of night. 

It was a chilly night, but nothing she had not been used to back home. The breeze was light as it fluttered through the pale flowers and she stared into the black velvet sky filled with the sparking diamonds of stars. Her mind felt heavy with worry at their departure upon the morrow. More importantly, she found herself gnawing on the aching fear of what lay within the wood. He was no stranger to fear and danger and no stranger to war. He was fearless in the face of it, she believed. But, she wondered just as to what caused pause in his otherwise persistant need to keep her safe. 

This led Aria to another thought. It was one she felt important but also knew it would possibly be one of the hardest things she would have to ponder on. In that moment, she was thankful for the quiet night and the ability to process everything on her own without voices in her head. The Stranger was quiet and Tane was asleep. Her thoughts were her own, however plagued and dreadful they would soon become. 

Her heart sank at what her mind had suggested, a heavy depression settling itself upon her shoulders like a blanket of thorns. She’d never brought the subject up to herself. She hadn’t wanted to. Tane wouldn’t like the thought and she knew it. He would fight and fuss just like a parent would and she wouldn’t blame him. 

Yet, Aria couldn’t help but think that the suggestion itself was logical. Tane was an elder. Could he keep up with the company through the horrid woods and whatever darkness lay within them? He had been injured so many times that she’d lost count and she wasn’t sure if he was truly healed from the orc camp, either. He hadn’t shown it, but she knew he nursed injuries from their previous encounters. His age didn’t help heal them any faster no matter how hard he tried to deny and conceal it. It worried her to her core and the thought of losing him made her jolt with the realization that she would never recover from such a loss. 

No. He couldn’t go. Not on this leg of their journey. He had seen that she reached an ally, but from there, she could not see him going any further. She couldn’t imagine watching him die, holding his head in her arms as the last of his light faded away. Or worse, having him perish without so much as a hint or any type of control over the situaton. No. Just, no. 

Perhaps she could call it fate or something else sitting upon her shoulder to whisper this finalization into her ear, but in the end, she wouldn’t allow it. She couldn’t. Not with him. And this suddenly proclamation to herself felt so raw and so upending, she felt her heart shred. The fissure of sorrow that had been there suddenly began to rip open and bleed, breaking her down as she sat upon the bench in the quiet night. Tears fell in rivers down her cheeks, spilling upon her jeans as she clenched fistfuls of her sweatshirt. 

“It is never a good sign to hear a lady crying in the dark,” a deep voice brought her from her thoughts. 

Aria straightend, spooked by the sudden intrustion, and turned toward the voice. Beorn stood tall and dark in the the shadows and Aria was reminded just how large this man was. She didn’t fear him as she did when he charged toward them in bear form. Now, all she felt was a sense of ease and comfort. He was forboding to some but not to her. 

Aria quickly wiped her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, the stains causing dark circles to form on the already tainted fabric. She did her best to provide him with a weak smile, but the man was wise and observant. He strolled toward her, stepping around to join her on the bench. Compared to her, he was garganutan in size. His long legs spread ahead like telephone poles and his hands that clutched the bench were the size of car tires it seemed. 

“Oh, Beorn,” She sniffled slightly, turning her eyes to the grass at her feet. “Sorry if I disturbed you.” 

“You did nothing of the sort.” Beorn replied. His voice was calm, unbothered. “Why are you out here crying, child?” 

Aria wasn’t sure she wished to speak of the war that raged inside her head. She didn’t want to appear selfish in from of him. It was as if a dark part of her had thought of the absolute worst outcome and she’d agreed. It was logical, she couldn’t deny that. But the toll it would take on her heart was something she’d not factored into the equation. 

“I was just thinking of Tane.” She responded to him, fighting the urge to cry again. 

“Your Warg?” 

She nodded, gazing up into the night sky once more. “Yes. I was just thinking of how injured he’d gotten in the past leading up to us meeting you here.” 

“You’re unsure if he can make the journey beyond my home.” 

Aria glanced at the man. It had been a statement more than a question. He knew her turmoil and understood what she fought with herself over. She wasn’t sure how and it didn’t matter. He knew her pain and that was all she needed. The tears began to sting again and, try as she might, she could not fight them off. Her shoulders quaked as she reined in her sobs. Beorn simply sat there as she warred with her own mind and soul, keeping the flood gates from busting open again while doing so.

After what seemed like ages of sobs wrecking her body and her core bleeding dry, she felt a warm hand upon her shoulder. Albiet, it felt like a paw more than a hand, but the heat from it seemed to melt into her core and stifle the pain she was feeling. Her tears slowed, her breathing reduced to small whimpers. Beorn remained silent even though she swore she could hear the reassureances within his comforting hand. 

“I understand your torment, child.” He finally stated after her tears had almost stopped. “But, your thoughts are not unjustifiable. He is an older Warg, far more ancient than you, your company, and any of the other corrupt creatures that have chased you. His bones are weary from travel and from war. It would do him good to rest here and heal from the wounds far older than what you have witnessed so far.” 

Aria nodded absentmindedly, hearing his words but hating the fact that her initial thoughts had been right. “I’m afraid of being selfish and wanting him to go. I aboslutely hate that you agree with me.” 

Beorn gave a small smile. “Think of this, Aria. He will be safe here and well cared for in my home. He will want for nothing.” 

Aria nodded. “I know that. It doesn’t help my heart, though. And besides, it’s getting him to stay that will be the hard part.” 

Beorn snorted with good measure, giving her one more tap upon her shoulder before returning his hand back to the bench. “I will help you. You will not walk this portion of your path alone.” 

“But what if he takes off to go after us? Even if, by some miracle, he stays here? What then?” Aria felt her heart clench again in fear and dispare. 

Beorn leveled his eyes with her. They were a rich and dark like his hair. “He will not. Not while I am here, child.” 

There was a hint of amusement in his voice as if he knew something she didn’t. In a way, it made her feel solidified. Heard. If she were making the right choice it was for the right intenion. She would ask Tane to stay behind. She couldn’t trust the road ahead. He had promised to keep her safe and he had done so. Her logic was correct. 

Then, why was her heart still splitting in two? 

Chapter Text

“Stick to the forest-track, keep your spirits up, hope for the best, and with a tremendous slice of luck you may come out one day and see the Long Marshes lying below you, and beyond them, high in the East, the Lonely Mountain where dear old Smaug lives, though I hope he is not expecting you.”— Gandalf, The Hobbit

The morning arrived with an almost indecent swiftness, bringing with it the tantalizing aroma of fresh baked bread and other delightful foods. Aria had fallen fitfully into sleep the night before, her mind plague with how to break the news to Tane. Her heart had shattered into a million pieces over and over, tears streaming down her face, and she’d cursed herself many times before falling into a dead slumber. She had not dreamed nor had the Stranger contacted her. For the first time since she’d discovered his presence, she’d wished to speak to him or hear him reach out to her to rip her mind from her plagued thoughts. She could still feel him there as she could feel Tane, and she busied herself all night in building an edifice of thorns and stone to keep the Warg out of her warring thoughts. That in on itself had been exhausting enough to aid her in falling asleep. 

As she stirred, she found Tane gone as he had been that night. He’d chosen to sleep a little aways from her to give her space, she assumed. She hated it even though, at first, she hadn’t minded. He was respectful of her, understanding her enough to know that she was fighting a war he couldn’t see nor help with. Giving her space was simply allowing her to win that war and he could then commend her. Yet, as her mind cleared and the ever pressing cloud of worry and dread super glued itself together in her mind, he had not returned. Her stomach had twisted with dread and she fretted that a part of her mental wall had split during her slumber. Did Tane know what was going through her mind? This caused her to rise and scurry away from her bed in search of him. 

The dwarves had risen early, their cheerful banter seeping from the kitchen into the brightly lit barn. Aria quickly checked the dining hall, seeing Beorn carefully pouring milk for the others, before turning and exiting into the gardens. The bees were about, visiting the dancing flowers that bobbed in the cool morning breeze. The bi-pedal canines meandered about gracefully as one could do on two legs not made for such a job. They didn’t carry trays with beverages as they had the day before and, instead, carried water pitchers made of wood for watering the endless plants and blooms. 

Among the flowers, Aria spotted a dark shape and knew immediately who it was. She halted in the grass, noting how he sat upon his haunches gazing up into the sapphire blue sky wistfully. It was a peaceful scene and she branded it in her mind to remember for the rest of her days. He looked so peaceful there and she wondered if this had been the first time in a while that he’d experienced it. 

She stepped forward. 

 His ear twitched, alerting him to her approach. She’d made sure her footfalls were deliberate to alert him. He didn't turn to her, however, and the twisting of dread in her stomach tightened even more. She could see the dark grey scars beneath his fur, the patches of hair having gone missing long ago in some age old battle she’d not witnessed. It made her decision all that more justifiable but no less heart-wrenching to make. The organ screamed for her to re-think what she wished to discuss with him and all but belittled her as she stood there in the grass like a scared child. You’re a coward. You’re thoughtless. You will never make it out there without him. It made her want to vomit what little food she’d eaten and scream to the world that she was an idiot. She was stupid for venturing out without his protection. 

Yet, beyond those thoughts, the logical portion of her core knew this to be the right thing to do. The path through the trees and farther on was not one he could take easily and something inside of her knew he could not make the rest of the journey. Even if her own emotions warred with her brain, she couldn’t doubt what was beyond her control. 

She loathed herself then. She loathed what she had to do. Her insides felt like molten lava, burning her and branding her with sorrow. She didn't want to leave him behind, to leave him in the care of someone she didn’t know. He was like a parent to her and she loved him. He was one of the only beings to accept her for who she was and never treat her with hostility. He was someone she could lean on when the nights got cold and someone she could speak to over things far larger than herself. He was wise, warm, and could be hilarious when he chose to be. He’d protected her with his life and she had done the same. Even if her fate did not include him beyond this point, she still wished for him to go. To help him as he helped her. 

Perhaps, in a way, you are. A deep voice inside her head commented. It sounded strained, as if her emotions caused his to falter. She felt herself smirk despite the warring feelings within her mind. She wondered if she would hear from him again. It was as if he only listened when her emotions felt far too heavy, too loud. 

No, she hissed to him. No, I am not. I’m selfish. He had been abandoned before, and I’m doing it again. 

You’re saving him, Little Mouse. The Stranger growled. It was as if he were angry. You are doing more good than you realize. 

She wanted to scream into the sapphire sky. She wanted to rip and tear at things, to roar her emotions to the heavens, to the Valar wherever they were. She didn’t want to hear anything anymore. She didn’t want to have all of those voices inside her head telling her what to do or fussing over her like mother hen. She wanted to fast forward and past this entire thing, and land outside of the forest with the Lonely Mountain within reach. 

But, this wasn’t a movie and, besides how many times she’d doubted and questioned everything, it was real. All of it. She was no longer in Oklahoma. She was no longer home. She had to face things head on and move forward as best she could. Perhaps, at the end of her metaphorical tunnel, there was a way back to the place of endless prairie and funky weather. She just had to fulfill the mission and she’d be free. 

Tane turned to her then, his eyes narrowed as if he’d heard her warring thoughts. His gaze felt heavy and she felt her stomach drop to her feet again. She didn’t need to tell him anything. He already knew.  She’d not walled that part of her mind off from him as she had done the night before. He deserved to know why she’d been distant and why the light didn’t reach her eyes. She noted these observations from his own thoughts and she hated herself. Hated everything of what she was about to do. 

She sat beside him upon the grassy knoll. It was a pleasant area, overlooking the rising and falling of hills beyond the protective wall of shrubbery that made the property line. The sunlight spread like molten gold upon the blades of emerald area wished she felt the warmth it provided. Her heart raced, her skin clammy from worry, and she wished that the world would swallow her up. She felt only worry from Tane like the vibrations of sound from a speaker. It was like fat, cold raindrops upon her skin. They sat in silence for a while, the ever cooling breeze fluttering through the flowers and ruffling her hair.

I have seen so many wars, my cub. Tane finally broke the silence, his voice in her head a gruff whisper. I have been injured many times and have seen my fair share of blood and spoils. In those times, I thought nothing of what it would do for my future. I was young and stupid. 

She blinked, her eyes reaching to the horizon as he spoke. 

Now, He stated with a sigh, as I gaze onward toward a path that you will travel and one I cannot follow, I curse my past self for how uncaring I was. 

“I want you to know that this isn’t easy for me,” Aria stated, her voice strained as the sting of tears burned her eyes. A thick lump formed in her throat. 

I know, Cub. I know. He stated solemnly, gazing at her with what she could only guess to be the best expression of tenderness a Warg could offer. I understand that you do not do this because you are selfish. Do not ever think that. I know you do this to look out for me as I have tried to look out for you. I would expect nothing else. 

She felt a stray tear glide warmly down her cheek. Her eye stung, her heart screaming in pain at the expression within his teal eyes. His fur gleamed in the sunlight, his ears notched and worn from his war filled days. He was beautiful, rugged, and stoic. A being that demanded attention wherever he went. She soon realized she was proud of him herself. She was proud of who he was and how well he’d survived. It swelled within her aching heart and she couldn’t quell the tears that came. 

“I never had a father figure in my life,” She gazed into the sky, attempting to focus on anything but crying. “I don’t remember anything about my birth parents. But, you’ve been the closest thing to a parent and a best friend since we first met.” 

Tane leaned into her shoulder with his, his heat warming her saddened soul. Like a flickering flame in the dead of winter, she felt tendrils of tenderness cradling the fragile things that was her heart. He had a way of doing that and she was comforted in knowing he would always understand her in a way no one else had done so far. In his mind, her choice to leave him behind was justifiable even if she thought not. 

If you do happen to find yourself in trouble, however, I need you to do something. Tane stated, his eyes leveling with hers. They were serious, like a father fixing to sternly tell their child to return home by midnight. 

“You know I would do anything.” Aria smiled, attempting to quell the rising anxiety in her breast. What was he to ask of her? Would he talk about what she should do if she lost him anyway? She couldn’t think of it. It would be unfair. The fear of losing him had spurred leaving him behind in the first place. 

He straightened, gazing out into the sky again. Our connection is strong. Far stronger than anything I have ever experienced. I will hear you from miles if not more than that. Keep your mind open and I will know if you are not safe. Then, I will find you. 

“That doesn’t make sense.” Aria narrowed her gaze in confusion. “I might be far, far away from you. You’re supposed to stay put and stay safe. I don’t…”

I don’t care what you want or don’t want when it comes to your safety, Aria. Tane growled, thrusting a paw harshly into the grass. She’d never seen him do such a thing. You are my charge, my cub, now. I will do anything in my power to keep you safe. It’s taking me everything now to stay here knowing I cannot follow. 

Aria felt herself deflate. He was right. There was no stopping him if she came to harm and there was no denying their connection. After all they had been through and experienced, there were some things that would never fade. His devotion and his promise, their promise, defied all limitations. Even her own wishes to keep him safe. 

Now that I think about it, He stated thoughtfully, the only thing stronger than our bond is another you share. I’ve been sensing it here and there of late. ‘The Stranger’ you call him? Is that right? 

Oh no…

“Miss Jackson,” A voice rose from behind them, Aria turning to find Gandalf standing there, outlined in gold from the gleaming sunlight. His robes lazily lapped at his boots in the morning breeze, his gnarled hands clutching his grizzly staff. “Whenever you have a moment, I am in need of your audience.” 

Aria tilted her head in wonder, confused as to why he would need to speak with her at all. But, she understood Gandalf’s requests were few and far between and it wasn’t in her nature to go against it. There was a determination in his gaze, one she’d not seen before, and her heart beat rapidly. Tane rose as well and Aria understood his actions as protective, even against the wizard who seemed far more powerful than the wolf. 

Aria placed a hand upon Tane’s shoulder, a means to comfort him, and nodded at the elder who turned away from her. She followed him, looking back at her Warg with a shrug before returning her gaze forward. Inside her mind, Tane worried and she reciprocated slightly. They asked each other what in all Arda the wizard needed with her and she promised to let Tane listen to their conversation. She felt uneasy, like a patient being led back for surgery, and her palms began to sweat. 

The garden felt alive around them as they passed. The bees fluttered from one flower to another, the workers who had slept in earlier finally arriving to perform their duties. The deep floral aroma surrounded her and she drank it in, filling her lungs with the sweet scent of the Middle Earth in the morning. It helped quell her nerves slightly as she observed the bi-pedal canines moving about once more. She hadn’t managed to ask Beorn about them, having not had the time to do so, and she regretted it. Perhaps some day, if she survived to see it, she would. She truly hoped to visit Beorn again. 

Finally, after what seemed like eons trailing after the wizard, he turned and offered her a seat upon the same stump she’d chosen a day earlier when she’d discovered her true self. She eyed it wearily, but took it. Gandalf followed her, situating himself in the shade. The sun felt warm upon her skin, the cool nip of the morning air having left a slight chill in her bones. 

“So, Miss Jackson, I will not dance around why I brought you here to speak with me alone. We do not have the time, unfortunately.” He sat straight, eyeing her with an unreadable expression. “It has come to my attention that you know things about this world that have not yet come to pass. I am curious as to why?” 

Shock stilled her heart and she eyed him wearily. Explanations and excuses like “What things?” or “I’m not sure what you mean,” scrambled through her head like flashing pictures on a screen. Fear and the sudden worry that the knowledge she held in pieces from her grandmother’s story  would suddenly be something she would soon be judged for. A metaphorical fog, dense with blinding dread, swelled in the spaces around them. She couldn’t imagine the wizard who had helped her and the others would throw her to the metaphorical wolves or leave her behind, but she couldn’t fully trust that they wouldn’t either. At least, some of them. She thought she’d helped them before narrowly miss death while placing herself before it as a sacrifice. That was something she could never recover from. Of all times to doubt her, to question her, why now? 

“Are you going to judge me for my answer?” Aria asked, narrowing her gaze at him. A challenge. He may seem powerful but she was, too. Possibly. At least, that’s what they had told her. She’d fight him off if he tried to throw her away. The thought occurred to her then and a sudden wave of slightly contained anger began boiling inside her brain. Tane. It was a warning. Not for her, but for the wizard. 

I’d like to see him try, growled the Warg. 

Gandalf’s expression shifted from one of curiosity and weariness to one much softer. The force that had welled up around them like a heavy fog seemed to dissipate. Aria felt her nerves rattle and shake off a bit of the dread she’d felt like an old muffler on an ancient truck, but her anxiety didn’t go away even as the man before her seemed less antagonizing. She knew, way back inside her subconscious, the day would come when someone would ask questions. It wasn’t every day a stranger showed themselves with unbelievable knowledge. Back home, they would be detained or worse and Aria didn’t blame anyone for raising a metaphorical flag of caution. 

She cleared her throat. Might as well tell the truth, she sighed. 

“My grandmother used to have a book that she would read to me all the time. It was a fantasy novel that told of a group of dwarves and a Hobbit that traveled from the Shire to the Lonely Mountain, enduring hardships as they went.”

“Is that so?” Gandalf peered at her from under his bushy eyebrows. 

“Yes.” She stated, glancing down at her tennis shoes. “The reason I know a few things is that it just so happens that everything that’s occurred so far has been almost right in line with events from the story. At least the parts I remember her telling me.” 

“Except for you?” Gandalf asked. 

Aria glanced up and nodded. “Except for me.” 

“So, the story your grandmother told you isn’t entirely true, then?” He inquired. 

Aria shook her head. “It’s starting to seem that way.” 

“But, you also mean to tell me that there is a possibility you would know the outcome of this journey? How it will end?” 

Aria felt her lungs tighten and her eyes dropped. She feared he would ask that and shouldn’t have doubted he wouldn’t. “Yes and no.” 

She heard him grunt. “By saying yes, I believe you are aware that to mention anything would be detrimental to the others and their destiny?” 

She nodded, meeting his eyes again. “I understand.” 

“You say no as well,” He stated. “Would you enlighten me?” 

Aria nodded. “By saying no, I also understand that my arrival was not foretold in this story. Things have changed.” 

Gandalf blinked a few times, a gnarled hand stroking his beard as he contemplated her statement. Was she wrong? Could her being there possibly change the outcome of the story? She’d briefly thought about it before only in passing, but she’d not truly dwelled on it until now. Sure, her grandmother’s story had been set in ink and paper like carvings in stone. But, it had not mentioned her Warg and it had not mentioned her. Those factors alone were small but neither one meant the story would hang true to what had been written. 

“Perhaps,” He agreed, nodding. 

Aria sheepishly scratched her neck. “Thankfully, I can’t remember most of it. Only a little. Only certain parts. And the dragon. Mostly, I had listened to it in bits and pieces and the recollection of some of the events come and go. Id like to blame that on being too young back then to really invest in the stories she told me, but there have been years between as well that have caused me to forget.” 

Gandalf sighed. “Well, let’s hope your memory aids us when absolutely need it the lack of it comes in handy when we don’t. 

Aria snorted. “My grandmother always told me I had a squirrel for a brain. She wasn't rude about it and it always made me laugh.” 

She could tell Gandalf didn’t understand her, his eyes regarding her statement as someone who had never heard of a joke from her world. She sighed, knowing full well how that felt. She, too, felt similar sometimes when observing the dwarves while they laughed and poked fun at one another. 

“It means I get distracted easily sometimes.” She clarified. 

A light blinked on behind his blue eyes and he laughed “I wouldn’t have minded meeting your grandmother.” 

Aria sighed, remembering the strong woman who had practically raised her. Her heart ached, but time had not been kind Aria’s recollection of her grandmother. Her trauma coupled with the years that had passed had blurred some of her favorite memories like rain to fresh side-walk chalk. She wished to hear her voice again, to fully pay attention to the story the woman had tried so desperately to tell to her granddaughter. 

“She was pretty great.” Was all Aria could offer the wizard as she drowned in sadness. 

A beat of silence hung between them while Aria attempted to tread the waters of her sorrow. There were so many things she wished to tell her grandmother now. How her life had changed, what she’d witnessed so far. She could somewhat see the woman’s reactions to the company and her Warg. She would have loved Bilbo, had adored Tane, and had held reservations on Thorin. She would have fought if she could to protect Aria and the others, and she would have made sure all of them were fed, clothes, and bathed. 

“Who was this weaver of your tale?” Gandalf asked as if sensing Aria’s change in mood. 

Aria bit her lip, wiping away the tears that had formed in her in the corner of her eyes. “His name was J. R. R. Tolkien. He was said to have been a brilliant man, inventing the languages used within the story as well as the world and the beings in it. It made him the father of fantasy, or so he’d been deemed back home.” 

Gandalf processed the name she’d given him, eyes narrowing as he supposedly sifted through the countless knowledge he’s gained however long he’d been in Middle Earth. They sat there in silence as he thought, Aria really wishing she could leave and sit with Tane or far away from the encounter. 

“Ah,” He exclaimed after a moment, holding a hand within the air, index finger pointing toward the sky. “I think I know this Tolkien fellow you speak of.” 

Aria narrowed her eyes. “How so?” 

“Well, I believe he crossed over into Middle Earth a handful of times.” Gandalf nodded. “At least a few, before he went back to your world. From what I had heard, he was a very pleasant gentleman and found the Hobbits very fascinating.” 

Aria felt herself perk up a little, excitement welling within her breast. She leaned forward, resting her arms over her legs. “He came over? Like I did? And returned to Earth?” 

Gandalf nodded. “Yes, but don’t misunderstand. He was not like you and did not arrive like you. He simply was here, like a ghost, and then he was gone.” 

Aria felt her heart sink. As much as she didn’t wish to return home to the situation she’d left, she didn’t wish to stay within Middle Earth any longer than she needed to. She’d agreed to help the dwarves and she hoped she’d survive the entire ordeal, but she also missed home slightly. In actuality, she missed Oklahoma. She missed the smell of rain and the smell of fresh cut alfalfa. She missed the waft of a cool breeze before a thunderstorm and the sight of cattle dotting a rolling, emerald hill. She longed to speak with another person like herself that knew nothing of goblins and swords. Middle Earth wasn’t her home. She had not been born there and pieces it had not made up her soul. 

It is not your home. The Stranger purred, a sense of knowing within his voice. Not yet.

Aria rolled her eyes to the sky and shoved the presence away without throwing up a wall to where Tane could not listen. She didn’t wish to argue with someone or something she didn’t know or could not see. In the back of her mind, the part not occupied by Tane or the Stranger, she’d wondered if he was real or just a part of her that spoke her darkest thoughts. 

Instead of listening to the voice, her thoughts faceted upon the fact that the author of her grandmother’s story was, in fact, someone who had been there before. Someone from her planet had visited Middle Earth, had seen what she had seen, and had written about it. It might not have been on the mark compared to some of the events she’d endured so far, but they were similar. Perhaps one could even call it something akin to a prophecy. A thought that had occurred to her more than once. If that were so, however, what was her purpose in being there?

“Purpose?” Gandalf’s thoughtful expression quirked as Aria voiced those very thoughts. “It seems as if your author was incorrect in a handful of his predictions. You are here for a reason but it has not been told in your story. It has, I’m afraid, not been previously written to help us.” 

“I wondered about that.” Aria shrugged. “Looking back now, I wish I would have paid more attention to some of the story. He was on the mark on most of the events, just not me. I can’t help feeling lost thinking that.” 

“Not everyone needs to be written in stories in order to have a purpose, child.” Gandalf offered her a smile. “You are supposed to be here. The Valar have seen to that. We may not know why, but who am I to question such things.” 

Aria nodded, feeling as if her own questions forming piles within her mind were simply getting bigger. She was a library or an old office with towers of papers that needed to either be filed away or shredded all together. Within all of those, one thing was clear: somehow, the author of her grandmother’s story had been there long enough to absorb enough information to write one of the most popular books back on Earth. It blew her mind, confused her, and angered her all in one go. 

“Gandalf?” A thought suddenly occurred to her, one that hadn’t earlier. “If J. R. R. Tolkien was here and learned enough to write the story my grandmother told me, its of the future. He couldn’t have lived the moments we are now.” 

Gandalf nodded, taking his pipe from his robes and proceeding the process of lighting it. He took a few puffs from its mouthpiece, the smoke rolling from his nostrils as he let the effects settle within him. He slid his eyes closed and Aria felt the air shift for a moment. The ever present flutter of both entities within her mind kept the quiet at bay, but she allowed herself to sense the chill in the air and reveled in how different it felt compared to home. 

“I believe,” Gandalf finally stated after a few moments had passed. “That your author was here for only a breath, but was ultimately taken by some higher power and told your story. I’m not entirely sure as to why, but if it is who I think it is who filled his mind all of these ideas, the answers are not as clear. They work in mysterious ways, it seems but for very good reasons. Or bad. I’m not entirely sure.” 

 It didn’t take his explanation of who had taken Tolkien to know whom he spoke of.

 Aria narrowed her gaze at him. “You’re saying the Valar had something to do with his story? Hypothetically.” 

Gandalf quirked a smile. It was somewhat mischievous, but the truth was there. 

“Hypothetically.” 

Aria sighed. It didn’t explain much to her. Not all of it, at least. A portion of it made sense but why would the Valar, if they had, allowed a human from a different world access theirs? What had they told him and why? Why was she a part of this?

Her brain hurt. The entire thing caused exhaustion to wash over her. She felt too tired, too slow. She wanted to curl up again in the hay and sleep until her eyelids didn’t feel as if they were made of iron. 

“Let us stop there for now. I will not bother you any further on this,” Gandalf stated, standing. “You have answered as much as you could, Miss Jackson. Thank you.” 

Aria blinked a few times at the wizard, his robes sweeping like waves of grey around his dark boots. He turned to her, his shadow towering over their makeshift meeting spot. His eyes were soft, as if he were giving her advice before she went about doing something stupid. Or were they sympathetic? She wasn’t entirely sure but she wasn’t a fan of it. 

“I have urgent business to attend to with the head of my council.” He stated, “ I trust you will keep the dwarves in line?” 

Aria snorted, smirking. “I’ll do my best.” 

“Do not fret over leaving your Warg. He is in good hands here.” Gandalf offered her a small smile, somehow feeling her emotions on the subject. The glint of sorrow within his blue gaze reminded her that she was not the best at keeping her expressions in check. 

“It’s hard, Gandalf.” Her eyes dropped to her hands clasped in her lap. The ruddy sweatshirt sleeves gathered at her wrists were tattered and torn. She was sure there were blood stains or had been. 

“I know, child.” He stated from above her, placing a heavy hand upon her shoulder. It was warm, comforting, and a part of her sorrow chipped away and melted like ice at her feet. “But it is for the best. I know nothing about him, if we are honest here, but I know of his kind prior to when the Orcs began working with them. They are warriors, battle hardened and emotionless. To see one so attached to a human of all things…” 

Aria didn’t bother asking if Gandalf could go into more detail on what he knew of Tane. She felt far too exhausted for just having awakened an hour or so earlier. Her heart still felt raw and wrung out like an old dish rag and she knew she’d have to raise her spirits some way or another or the dwarves would notice. 

“If you wish to keep your mind busy,” Gandalf stated as if reading her thoughts again, “The company might need some help with preparing for the journey.” 

Aria nodded, rising to meet the wizard. The thought of busying herself to shut out the warring thoughts and unanswered questions within her mind sounded amazing at that moment. She’d done it back home when homework and her life beyond school got too much to bare. She’d busy herself with cleaning her room, organizing her school things, or something along those lines. In all actuality, when the Jacksons gave her chores, she reveled in it. Anything was helpful to keep her mind from wondering to how much her life had been shredded. 

She found the dwarves in a group inside the barn. They bustled about, arms loaded with various things such as food and skins filled with drinks. She watched for a moment, finding amusement in the cacophony, when she felt a presence to her left. She glanced over, finding Tane, and brushed his shoulder with her own. 

Funny creatures, dwarves. He stated. They covet things like gold and jewels as if they were things needed in survival. But, when it comes to the items fit for the job, they are unsure of what to bring and choose to take it all. 

Aria felt the side of her mouth quirk in a smirk. They were truly funny creatures but she could say the same for humans as well. She’d heard stories of outbreaks in the past from various classmates and other adults that chose to come around her. People lost their minds at the thought of disease disrupting their normal lives and sold grocery stores out of items like milk and toilet paper. These dwarves were not any different. They had truly never been on a mission quite like this one and the thought of needing something and not having it had crossed their minds. At least, that’s what Aria gathered from watching them scurry like chickens during a rain storm. 

It was then that Fili halted, arms full of some type of vegetable. His eyes brightened, face breaking into a wide smile. 

“Miss Aria!” He exclaimed, causing the others to stop and look about. Many smiles met her following his exclamation of her entrance. “Come inside! I’m afraid we may need your help with a few things, if you don’t mind.” 

She didn’t and she told them just that. She dove right in among them, aiding with reducing the amount of things they should take. She was hoping once they reached the edge of Mirkwood and on their way toward the mountain, they would have things left over. Rumor floated among them about another establishment at the very end, but for some reason, Aria felt that was not what her grandmother’s tale had listed. Of course, as with most useful information, she’d not listened to that portion very well. 

Eventually, they had gathered enough to satisfy Gandalf who had arrived toward the end of their preparations. The sun was nearing its peak in the sky, signaling the approach of mid-day, and Aria felt the weariness in her bones. The dwarves had informed her that they planned to start their journey after they had eaten their afternoon meal. She was thankful for that, but dread still rested inside her heart at the thought of leaving Tane behind. Even if they had agreed it was for the best, she already felt the coldness inside her at his future absence. 

At once point, before they gathered for their meal, Fili and Bofur cornered the girl. She eyed them with caution, wondering what in Middle Earth was going through their minds. A gleam settled in both of their gazes and in their arms they carried a few pieces of what Aria assumed were garments. 

“They are new clothes we gathered from Beorn at Thorin’s request.” Bofur stated, handing her what appeared to be a worn shirt three times her size. “He’s been fussin’ all morning about yer rags.” 

Aria snorted, narrowing her eyes at the proffered garment. “I like my rags, thank you.” They remind me of home. 

Fili nodded, handing her a pair of worn pants. “Yes, that’s all well and good but I don’t believe they will last for the remainder of our trip. We still have quite a ways to go. Besides, he won’t shut his gob until he’s satisfied.”

“Yer tellin’ me.” Bofur scoffed. “It’s not like she can’t fend for herself. She’s tough.” 

Aria rolled her eyes, but relented. She took the pants from Fili, who smiled as best he could as if in apology. She couldn’t blame them even though she didn’t really wish to rid herself of the last remanent of Earth. It was warm and comfortable albeit a bit ragged from being the only thing she had to wear. But, she didn’t wish to walk around in tattered jeans or a tattered sweatshirt either. In movies, some characters would wear something until it practically fell off. She didn’t feel comfortable doing that. Not with so many male eyes about and, if her memory of the story was correct, cold was soon to befall them. 

She was torn, if she were honest but she knew she needed to do what she needed to do to remain comfortable. 

 She rubbed her fingers against the worn material of the shirt. It was dark grey in color, or brown, she wasn’t quite sure. Against her fingertips it felt slightly rough, like wool, but comfortable enough. There were various dark fibers interwoven to create the tightly knit garment and she felt a warmth bloom within her breast at the thought of worn hands weaving the shirt. Somehow, she knew it wasn’t Beorn who had done the weaving, but someone close to him. The pants were the same material albeit thicker to endure rough wear or cold. Who had so lovingly knitted these clothes for him? 

“They are mine,” Beorn’s voice echoed the questions in her head. She felt somewhat unnerved by what she’d wondered in her own mind becoming reality, but she smiled instead. “Woven by my mother long ago.” 

“Oh my…” Her heart lurched. His mother? Hadn’t someone mentioned he was the last of his kind? “Are you sure you would be okay with me wearing these?” 

Beorn nodded, his warm eyes alight. “It would make her proud to have given a gift of her labor to a Child of Yavannah.” 

Oh, no. Not this again. Aria gave Beorn a smile even though she was unsure of responding to the title. 

Tane snorted next to her. It is true, though. 

Maybe, Aria glanced at the wolf. But, I don’t know how to feel about it just yet. Id rather be called by my name. 

“Thank you,” was all she could manage before her face felt hot and she turned to leave. 

“Miss Aria,” Fili stopped her, a hand on her forearm. He placed a few belts upon her arm, draping them over the garments she held. They were made of tooled leather and worn buckles. “You will need these, yeah?” 

She giggled. It seemed, he held the gift of common sense or foresight. She wasn’t sure, but she was thankful. “Yeah.” 

She chose a secluded spot in the very corner of the barn to change, grateful for the shadows and the stacks of hay that kept her hidden. Tane chose to stand guard in front, his back turned to her as she wrestled herself out of modern clothes. Afterward, she stood in her battered undergarments while contemplating what to do with the ones Beorn had given her. The cool air touched her exposed skin and she shivered, the gooseflesh rising on her arms. She’s not had the time to realize just how different the latter months of summer were in Middle Earth compared to Oklahoma. It was her first time there, she admitted. She’d not known the place existed at all let alone contemplated whether to wear a sweatshirt or a tank top. 

After a moment, she shook her head and simply donned the clothes, hitching the pants with one belt around her waist while strapping the other around her around her diaphragm to keep the shirt from falling any further. Each garment was so large, she easily left her tennis shoes on while slipping each leg of the pants over them. The shirt hung like a gunny sack over her light frame and she sighed, hoping a gust of wind didn’t hit her hard enough to expose anything she didn’t want seen. That would be just her luck. 

With the size aside, she noted that the clothing felt comfortable. There was plenty of room to move around despite how roomy they were. The belts helped and she noted she needed to thank Fili when she returned to them. 

If the material had been wool, it didn’t feel as such. It was smooth upon her skin and cool as if it had adjusted to her body temperature and attempted to keep her from overheating. As she’d observed before, they felt heavy, especially the pants. It was night and day compared to her old clothing and far cleaner. She’d never worn hand made articles of clothing but she sure wished she’d done so before. 

Eventually, Tane and she exited the area and returned to the dwarves. Bofur produced her backpack and she thanked him before stuffing her sweatshirt and jeans into it. She wished for new undergarments, knowing hers needed another wash soon, but turned that portion of her brain off immediately. 

Tane eyed her pack like a parent did a child before a field trip. 

You must fill that pack with far more than what you have, he grumped, ears lowering. Do they wish you to starve? Not my cub.

Tane, Aria began, but he turned from her and entered the kitchen. Leaving the dwarves with quizzical expressions, she followed quickly, his strides far larger when he was on a mission. She found him seated on his haunches next to Beorn,  conversing with him in a way she couldn’t understand. Beorn nodded as if Tane’s voice rang loud and clear, and began gathering a few more things. 

Beorn approached her after a moment or two, Tane following with a look of satisfaction, and stooped down to her level. “Here. Your protector demands that you take more than what the dwarves had gathered.” 

Aria sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m so sorry, Beorn. I didn’t mean for you to have to work harder than was necessary. I just got done telling the dwarves that they had packed too much.” 

Beorn only smiled. “I insist. For a child of…” 

“…Yavannah, I get it.” She finished. “Alright. I’ll take what I can stuff into my backpack. I’m not guaranteeing I can get all of that in there.” 

She eyed everything within his arms with contempt. She saw a whole block of cheese, a slab of some sort of preserved vegetable that had been dried or cured, and various other items of the same make. She did what she could to insert them all into her pack, only a few items not making it inside. 

After what seemed like hours of Tane fussing over her lack of food and her profusely apologizing for his actions to Beorn, she exited the kitchen area with far heavier bag than she’d entered with. Tane padded behind her, sniffing her as if her smell would read like a messenger board and tell all she needed. By that time, she was exhausted and dreading the journey ahead of them. Her stomach growled. 

You are hungry, cub. Tane stated, sniffing her again. 

I wonder why… She scowled. I haven’t gotten a chance to eat yet. 

The dwarves were outside when she exited the barn, fiddling with their items they had wished to take with them. The sun was dipping past its peak, signifying that the day was growing older. She wondered then when they were supposed to leave, figuring that a meal was waiting for them before they headed out on their journey.

As if on cue, she spotted Bomber strolling toward her, his rotund form bouncing with every footfall. She nodded at him, hefting her pack upon her shoulders a little more. Tane regarded the round dwarf with amusement, but remained silent. 

“Here,” He stated, his voice smooth and rich like honey. “We have already eaten but this is for you before we leave.” 

He presented her with a wrapped bit of cloth and she thanked him. He’d not spoken to her since she’d arrived, their schedules understandably busy with trying to survive. She unwrapped it, finding a hunk of bread and cheese. Her stomach rumbled again, a reminder that she’d not eaten since she’d awaked, and she quickly began consuming the food like a starved dog. 

In the distance, Aria noticed the horses had gathered. Their flowing manes and gleaming piebald coats were a stark contrast to the emerald grass they frolicked in. Were they what they would take to the forest? She had convinced herself that they were going to travel by foot. For the sake of everyone else, she couldn’t help but hope they would be allowed to ride via horseback to the forest entrance. She could already feel her weary muscles cramp at the thought of traversing for a few days on foot with the newly acquired bulk to her bag. 

“Miss Aria!” A voice caused her to turn, Kili and Fili approaching her. Kili hung back, his shyness still apparent. 

She offered him an innocent, sweet smile. “Hey!” 

“It appears those clothes are far better for travel than the ones you had earlier.” Fili remarked, standing wide and crossing his arms over his chest. 

Aria nodded, clutching the straps to the pack and placing the cloth her food had been wrapped within into one of the side pockets. She wished for more then, but knew they had to ration. She’d helped alleviate the amount of things they didn’t need, but food was going to be sparse. No one had told her this but her gut and the recollection of her grandmother’s story mentioning a sparse population of game where they were going. 

“Yes,” She stated. “They are a bit big but I can work with that.” 

“We wanted to come over and help you with something.” Fili stated, his voice wavering a bit. “But we wanted to make sure it was alright with you. We haven’t told Uncle yet.” 

She gazed at them for a moment with bewilderment. “What would you like to help me with?” 

Fili offered her a smile, Kili suddenly far more interested in his boots than the conversation. She felt skeptical, weary even. She thought she’d gathered all she could and was fit to go with them. Yet, somehow, she detected something was off. It was not a feeling as if they were fixing to deny her accompanying them, but something else far less negative. In fact, she felt as if it were a positive thing but a thing she couldn’t identify. 

“What are you two up to?” She narrowed her gaze further, voice low as if in warning. 

Fili held his hands up, calloused palms to the sky in surrender. His face read worry, as if her very tone made his plan suddenly uproot and fizzle about like wayward bubbles. Kili eyed his brother, the weariness within his expression shifting to one of annoyance. What was going on here?

“We want to help braid your hair.” Kili suddenly told her with a heavy sigh. She was briefly reminded of a teenager forced to do something they weren’t entirely certain about and all but annoyed with. 

She could hear a metaphorical record screech inside her head like one would hear in the movies. A beat of silence followed, heavy and unmoving like a tree trunk. She could hear the bees beyond them rumbling thunderously about the garden on their normal schedule, the cool breeze swathing through the grass and blooms, their colorful heads bobbing. 

 “What?” Was all she could manage. 

Fili gave her a sheepish smile, Kili rolling his eyes and stepping forward toward her. 

“We would like to braid your hair.” He offered again, shrugging. 

Aria stood there, blankly staring at the brothers. She blinked slowly, attempting to read into their statement. They wanted to what? To braid her hair? What did that mean and why did it seem to be a far bigger ordeal than she should assume? She wished she understood their culture a bit more than she did, feeling as if she’d missed something important. She shared a confused glance to Tane whose wise eyes gave away nothing. 

Then, she recalled her discussion with Fili the night they had arrived at Beorn’s. She recalled the open window, the night brilliant and alive beyond them, and the fear of knowing a hulking bear strolled outside. She remembered how he’d unofficially claimed her as a sibling and she’d accepted it slightly. He’d also mentioned in order to become a true sibling to dwarves, there must be some sort of ceremony. Was this what they had meant? She wasn’t sure if she had prepared herself for something like that. What would Thorin say? 

Hadn’t Fili mentioned something alongside courting? 

Her face heated. Oh lord.

Tane gave the smallest hint of a growl beside her. 

“I’m not sure…” She began. 

“We have claimed you as our sister,” Fili interrupted, squaring his chin. “And that requires us braiding your hair. Plus, it could use some taming.” 

Absentmindedly, she reached up to feel her crimson mane. It felt frizzy and unmanageable, her nose bunching with embarrassment. She’d washed it at the river, but it had a mind of its own. She’d been thankful to rid it of the dark orc blood from the goblin caves, but she still wished for something from her world that would care for the dry, brittle feel and every sensation of cleanliness had been dislodged. 

“If that is alright with you?” Fili added, eyeing her Warg as if asking for permission. 

Tane regarded them for a long moment, eyes narrowed at the brothers. Again, he felt like the ever present father figure she’d realized him to be. A thought zipped her back to Earth as she readied for prom or for a boy who had asked her to on a date. She felt Tane’s skepticism, the protective aura he usually saved for life or death situations ebbing at the edges of her mind. For a moment, she felt embarrassed as one would their own parent eyeing a potential date. Then, the Warg huffed, chalking the entire ordeal as a harmless one. He lifted himself up from where he’d sat upon his haunches, trudging over to lean into her shoulder.

All was well. 

With an eye-roll, she relented. The brothers nodded, Fili all but elated as Kili followed suit, dragging his boots. They ordered her to find a seat so they could begin their business. As soon as she’d found one, a bench near the barn, they went about behind her as if she were at a hair salon. 

Eventually, she felt fingers through her hair. Her scalp protested as they tugged at the tangles, her eyes slamming shut against the discomfort. She’d been through goblins, a burn to the face, and much worse as far as injuries. Yet, her head burned as their fingers raked through her hair. 

Eventually, the knots were brushed through and loosened and she felt herself relax. Her mind wondered a bit to the dwarves and what they were doing, to the journey ahead, and to what lay before them. She felt her muscles loosen, her breathing even itself, and her mind wonder as she kept her eyes closed. Through the darkness behind them, she could see the orange of the brilliant sunlight. She felt her lips quirk upward as she felt the warmth of it upon her skin. It comforted her like a hug, lulling her once again into something akin to a trance. Then the fingers were gone and she was left alone. 

“Alright, Miss Aria.” Fili’s voice felt distant like her head had been placed under a warm, soothing towel. “You’re done.” 

She opened her eyes, blinking a few times against the bright daylight. Her head felt lighter, the guys having draped her hair over her shoulder. She glanced down as the sun caught something gleaming in its warm rays. She blinked again, not entirely certain of what she was gazing at. 

They had woven her hair into a tight, neat braid of fire. It was long but light weight, not like what she’d done at the river. This was far better. At the end, it had been tied with a small string of leather which didn’t appear to move. She hoped, against all odds, that it would remain. 

Perhaps the most intriguing thing that drew her gaze, however, were the plethora of glittering pieces nested within the strands of her hair. They were small, about the size of her pinky nail, dotting throughout the braid. She felt a few more upon her head as well and her breath caught as she noted they were made of gold. Some were smooth, gleaming like chrome in the sunlight. Others were carved with intricate details, appearing to be made to mimic woven cloth or with lines or jagged designs. 

“Oh wow…” She whispered, lifting the braid into her hand to peer at the beads. 

“Oh no, Fee…” Kili’s voice felt on the edge of uncertainty and worry, “I told you not to use too many!” 

“It wasn’t me, this time.” Fili exclaimed. “You decided on which ones and kept picking them out for me to put in.” 

Kili growled in aggravation. “I’ll just take them out then…” 

“Wait a minute,” Aria pinned the dark headed brother with a narrowed look. His wide gaze met hers. “These are beautiful! Don’t do that. I like them.” 

There was a breath of silence between them in which Kili and Fili both exchanged shocked glances. Beyond them, the buzz of the bees whirring and the others of their party conversing drawled like a group in a crowded building. It was as if they were in shock that she had readily accepted their gift. It was cute, if she were honest with herself. 

Then, Fili threw his arms into the air and jumped for joy. He refrained from giving a shout of excitement, thankfully, but his elation could hardly be contained by one gesture alone. His face broke into a bright smile, the light reaching his eyes as he hopped toward her to embrace her snugly. Tane seemed unbothered, and eyebrow lifting as he regarded the act. Kili seemed slightly torn between remaining behind and joining his brother. Eventually, however, Fili wrangled him into the embrace. 

Aria allowed herself to relish in the contact. It was warm and secure, like a blanket during a snow storm. The smell of them wafted through the air and it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. It reminded her of the woods in the mountains and cool autumn mornings back home and she immediately wished she had a cup of steaming coffee at that moment. 

“I am so happy that you like it!” Fili exclaimed as they broke their embrace. “We don’t do it for just anyone, you know.” 

Kili rolled his eyes. “We haven’t done it for anyone at all.” 

Aria felt warmth spreading through her breast. “Thanks, guys. This means so much to me.” 

Kili’s gaze lifted to hers, his eyes widening as if he were seeing her for the first time. He appeared as if he wished to say something, but something stirred beyond them, wrenching their attention toward the others grouped away from them near the supplies. 

Gandalf stood among the company like a counselor during a summer camp. His eyes glided around the group, perhaps counting them and perhaps noting who was there and who wasn’t. It was somewhat comical, if she were honest with herself, but she ebbed the thought as the brothers beckoned her to follow. Tane dipped his head and she waited for him to rise before heading in the direction of the dwarves. 

“Good morrow, Thorin Oakenshield and company.” Gandalf announced to the group as Aria sidled up to them. There were many things piled about from food and drink to previsions that included sleeping packs and the like. “We are to leave soon for the forest of Mirkwood. It will be a few days journey to reach the outer edge. From there, as many of you know, I will have to leave you.” 

There were a plethora of grumbles, but everyone by that time knew he would be heading North. She still didn’t feel comfortable with the idea, but it wasn’t her place to stop him. Her grandmother didn’t mention the business he had to take care of but if she knew him she knew that it was important no matter what. She prayed for his safety and to reach them again in one piece even though it did little to ease the dread seeping into her heart. How would they do this without him? 

“Gather your things,” Thorin stepped up beside Gandalf. His eyes flickered to her for a moment too long, then washed over the others. “We are leaving now.”

“Beorn has graciously provided us with means to travel.” Gandalf stated, turning toward the frolicking horses in the meadow. “Upon using them as transportation, they will only serve us until you reach the forest’s edge. Then, you must send them home.” 

Aria nodded to herself. Her mind was wondered on the thought of riding again as she gathered a few other bags to help the others. The dwarves of her party followed suit, shouldering some of the cargo before turning toward the entrance to Beorn’s property. Aria was thankful they had strategically reduced the excess, but she couldn’t help but feel as if that had also been the wrong call. 

They moved as one toward the exit, the gates wide open, as the horses beyond trotting up to meet them. They were large, heavily feathered beasts with black and white piebald coats. Their manes and tails flowed like water as they met them in the gateway. They smelled of grass and horse, something of which Aria could never forget. Their eyes regarded their charge with curiosity and Aria couldn’t help but smile. That however, seemed to fade for a moment as her mind wondered beyond the present. 

She hadn’t really thought about the next leg of their journey minus the worry and wonder. As she followed the others, she couldn’t help but feel the lucidity of the situation. The ever present bite of a new season, the ache in her bones from what she’d already been through. The looming question if she would survive what lay ahead. It was all too real, now. With every step that placed distance between the places she felt safe in, she sensed a welling of dread pool low in her gut. She flicked her eyes over her shoulder, finding Tane following behind. He trotted up beside her, his warmth permeating whatever chill the unknown before them was causing.  Her heart ached then knowing full well she’d have to leave that, too. Looking back, she wished she would have stayed. 

That was not her fate, however. This was what had been written in the stars for her. She’d never been one to truly understand the concept nor had she believed in it at first. However, it was a power that she couldn’t control. It was beyond her. It didn’t care if she invested in it or not. It would go on and she had to follow. She had to leave the comforts she’d enjoyed behind and discover this destiny for it had been created before she was ever a thought by powers far stronger and older than she. 

Who was she to ever deny that. 

Chapter Text

“All the time they ate, Beorn in his deep rolling voice told tales of the wild lands on this side of the mountains, and especially of the dark and dangerous wood, that lay outstretched far to North and South a day’s ride before them, barring their way to the East, the terrible forest of Mirkwood” – The Hobbit

“Are you sure we can’t take just a little more of that really tasty bread?” 

Bofur’s question rose among the rustle and bustle of the dwarves as they gathered their materials for the journey. Beorn stood among them as they loaded the horses with their provisions, the company having asked the animals for their permission before doing so. Thankfully, the equines informed them all that it would be alright even if Ori worried the supplies would weigh them down considerably. Aria observed them curiously, waiting to load her things. She clutched a strap of her backpack tightly in one hand, her fingers absentmindedly stroking the scale pendant she’d placed back around her neck. It sang to her silently, pleased with the attention and she with its warmth. It’s weight was heavy and comforting upon her breast bone. 

In that moment, she let her mind wonder a little. It felt tired and ready for the journey to be over. The ache of all of her injuries was a constant reminder of what they’d already endured, even though she knew they had healed considerably since their arrival at Beorn’s. It was something that would always be there no matter how much it would scar over but she couldn’t deny that, for once in a long time it seemed, she felt as if she could move properly again. All that remained was the sting upon her cheek, reminding her that she’d been marked by a demon who she’d ended. 

She drank in the cool, summer air as she observed the dwarves scurrying about the horses, apologizing for the amount of things they had gathered as the beasts lowered themselves to be loaded. Her bones felt weary, but watching them brought her a sense of amusement. They were funny creatures but they were good in most ways even if their intentions were somewhat skewed. 

“Bofur,” Dwalin growled across the way at the other. “Ya idiot. Don’t ask stuff like tha’!” 

“But…” Bofur began. 

In the blink of an eye, a few of the dwarves began to argue, Bofur and Dwalin among them. Aria stepped backward, her ears barraged with the shouts. But, thankfully, Thorin stepped in, shoulders square and determined. Like a fresh snow upon a wild fire, she observed as he gracefully halted the menagerie without raising his voice in anger. Their disgruntled debates quelled, fizzling out as quickly as it had begun. He placated them for their folly, their eyes dropping as they were reminded of their foolishness. 

After he had scolded them, she found his eyes on her. 

“Are you ready?” He asked as he approached with a smile, far from the expression he had worn seconds ago. His scent wafted around her, mingling with the smells of cooking and the morning. His scent was pine and earth, reminding her of a crisp summer in the woods. 

“No. Not really.” She admitted, eyes flicking to the clear blue sky. “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure I am ready for what lays beyond, but I don’t have a choice, do I?” 

He gave a small laugh. “You always have a choice.” 

Shaking her head, she sighed, eyes falling to her shoes. “No. Not this time. Even if I chose not to go, I would still go. I owe you guys my life and you guys deserve to have your home returned to you. Plus, I have questions that need answered. I won’t get those here.” 

He gazed out toward the moving bodies, his eyes thoughtful. “To me, that is still a choice. I would hazard to guess you might not find what you seek on this trip either, but I am eternally grateful to you for still choosing to travel with us regardless.” 

She gazed at him, eyes narrowed in humor. “Is the great Thorin Oakenshield thanking me for tagging along?” 

He turned to her, eyes filled with mirth. “Don’t push your luck, girl.” 

To some, his words would have appeared hostile and gruff. Not entirely friendly. But, not to her. The two had stretched past mere uncertainties and had entered something different. Sure, at times, she pondered as to what was between them, but it was a fleeting wonder. She didn’t allowed herself much thought on it for more than a second. It mattered little, she assumed. He was their leader and, thus, was hers as well. Whatever he told them, and her, to do needed to be done. 

 Yet, if she did allow herself to think on it, it somehow didn’t feel as if he held power over her as he did the others. The air between them wasn’t simply leader and follower. It held another name and felt vastly different. Power wasn’t even the right word, firstly. He could order the others, point to them and give instructions to do what he wished. He chose not to order her. Or so it seemed. In any case, he had changed to her and hopefully toward the better. 

They stood that way for a moment. The thoughts rolling through her mind the only thing that doused the busy silence. The air wafted between them like a breathing thing and she could hear the beating of her heart against her rib cage. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her wonderings down and sighed. 

 Thorin excused himself to help the others and she nodded, turning to her own tasks. She spotted Bilbo a little ways away and started to him. He struggled slightly as he placed his things within his pack. He hadn’t not gathered as much as she would have assumed him to, but she knew nothing of his life before nor of his eating habits. What she knew of hobbits had only been told to her through her grandmother’s story. As she approached, she inquired about it.  Bilbo’s ears redden. 

“I don’t want to be a burden,” He told her sheepishly. “If I carry too much it would slow us down.” 

She tilted her head and then shook it. “You aren’t a burden at all, bud. There’s no way you could be. I would see if Beorn has a couple more loaves of bread to put in there. It won’t hurt.” 

His eyes brightened and he nodded quickly. “Are you certain?” 

She smiled. “I don’t see why not.” 

He didn’t hesitate, quickly turning on his heel and shouldering his pack. He was gone in a moment, sidling up to their great host to inquire. As she watched, she felt the warmth of seeing Beorn nod and smile at the small thing that came no further than his knee it seemed. Yet, the giant skin changer treated Bilbo as if he were just like him. She observed for a moment before turning away to watch the others. She was basically packed, awaiting orders to move out by Thorin. 

While waiting, her mind meandered to the various bits of information she’d accumulated from their stay at the skin changer’s home. First, she had learned there were such things as shifters. It didn’t surprise her that she no longer found the subject not as shocking as it had been. It was a term used heavily in certain novels back home to describe someone who should shift into another form. She usually noted the subjects being characters in romantic books. She hadn’t read them much, the Jackson’s not giving her much in terms of enrichment, and couldn’t quite grasp the concept. Beorn was not one she would find in such things, but it was was somewhat comforting in knowing that she had an ally of a sort that could rip an enemy to shreds if her comrades were in danger. 

The second takeaway was far more perplexing than anything else. She was, in a way, related to one of the god-like beings of Middle Earth. She really wasn’t entirely sure what that meant or if it was important to their cause. She surely hoped she could be helpful with some sort of powers to help defend them, but that didn’t seem likely. She didn’t know if there was anything to gain from the information or being related to Yavannah at all. It simply caused more confusion and more questions to surface. 

She felt a stirring in the back of her mind, one of Tane and the other more distant. Worry flowed from the former and she couldn’t help but smile. It seemed he would never stop fretting over her. The other presence was silent and she was thankful for it. She didn’t want to speak to the Stranger. Not right then. 

Regretfully she sighed. It was a chore diving into her thoughts. She felt Tane’s muzzle bump her arm and leaned into him, both observing as Thorin placed his belongings upon a graceful mare with an icy gaze. The beast snorted, puffs of steam from the cool morning shooting from her nostrils like pillars of smoke. A flash of something immense and smelling of sulfur wiped across her mind and she jerked back slightly, gripping onto Tane for a split second before the image went away. 

Are you alright, Cub? Tane’s worry nudged against her mind. 

She nodded quickly, swiping away at her bewilderment as not to concern him further than he already was. 

It was then that she suddenly noticed the numbers of steeds did not match the numbers of the company. Her own worry rose again, a ghosting of an ache beginning to rise in her legs and feet. She glanced around for another horse and found nothing, counting again and again as if she’d missed one. She turned toward Beorn, but Tane stopped her with a simple snort. 

You will not be riding one of those things, Tane stated, almost in disgust. I will be taking my cub to her destination myself. 

Aria paused, her eyes narrowed. Annoyance flickered in the back of her mind at the thought that she had torn herself apart at the thought of telling him goodbye just for him to step up and follow them anyway. She pushed that very emotion at him, allowing it to pummel his mind. 

No arguments. He narrowed his gaze, his statement final.  I will see you off and you cannot stop me. I know you gathered your courage to speak to me about going down a path I should not follow, but I can not let you travel alone. Not the entire way, at least. We can say our goodbyes at the edge of Mirkwood.

Aria sighed. The sudden change made her heart lurch with a small pang of joy. She wouldn’t be leaving him just then, not right that second. Even if she could tell him to stay at Beorn’s and he would listen, she didn’t want to. Selfish, yes. But she could already feel her resolve beginning to crumble a bit at the daunting journey they had before them. Every little bit of comfort helped. 

“Thank you.” She smiled. “Really.” 

Tane nodded, his eyes turning passed her. She turned away and watched as Gandalf stood among the steeds, his own large draft horse ready and waiting. It was a grey thing, a slash of white frosting the bottom half of him. He bore a calm, tired face that Aria could relate with. 

“Alright, you lot. Mount your steeds.” Gandalf announced, turning and climbing upon his horse. “ We ride soon.”

A cacophony of noises met Aria’s ears as the dwarves busied themselves yet again. Packs were gathered that had not been previously loaded and various members leapt upon the great horses. Aria watched as Bombur attempted, and failed, to successfully mount his steed. Fortunately for him, Bofur was close by to aid him. However, it seemed he struggled as well and soon, Dori and Dwalin aided the larger dwarf. 

Tane nudged her and it was then Aria realized that Gandalf’s “soon” meant right then. She scrambled to gather her things, shaking herself from the absentminded observation of her peers. With Tane's sudden declaration, she hadn’t had a chance to make sure she had everything she needed. She glanced around, feeling her backpack as its straps rested upon her shoulders. The wounds that had been there felt like distant, aching memories such as the one upon her ankle and her cheek. The latter in particular seemed to burn a bit more than the others, a stark reminder of what had given her the mark and what she had been through to rid the world of him. She gripped Drayuik as it laid upon her chest warmly. It secured her feelings and calmed her. 

“I think I’m ready.” She stated to Tane, who had lifted himself up from his sitting position to step up beside her. She glanced at him. “I’m not going to lie, I’m very glad you’re the one taking me.” 

Even though Wargs couldn’t smile physically, she could see it within his soft, teal gaze. She felt more like his daughter then. Her heart warmed, spreading through her veins like a blanket on a blistering winter day. She allowed their bond to overcome her, opening the gates to where he felt what she did. She could see it in his eyes as his pupils dilated and glittered with the same emotions. In a world where she almost never knew her birth parents, she was thankful for the one who seemed to have stepped up. She was thankful for him. 

Tane lowered himself to the ground, turning his head toward her as she clambered up. settling in the spot she normally had before when they’d fled for their lives. 

I wouldn't allow you to travel alone to the edge of that dark wood, child. I may not be able to go further than that, but I at least can see you off. He bumped her knee with his muzzle. Do I need to remind you that you are my charge now. 

She leaned over his shoulder, gripping the fur of his scruff to prepare herself for take off. “I know, I know. ‘You will protect me like I was your cub.’ I understand.” 

Until you are a parent, child, you will not understand. He huffed, shaking himself and jostling her. But I pity the fool who attempts to court you. They must get through me first. If they are lucky enough to get past those two.

He motioned with his muzzle toward Fili and Kili, who sat upon their steeds like royalty. Kili appeared a little nervous upon a large horse, but she could see him fighting the unease as best he could. She smiled, her heart warming to the young dwarf who seemed to fight every emotion to remain stoic like his uncle or his brother. 

Aria knew what Tane meant. He’d most likely heard bits and pieces of her conversations with the brothers. They were fierce and loyal almost to a fault, but they had to be. Wether it be for their uncle or the others, it was clear they valued family and friends more than war and winning. She felt herself smile at the thought of them defending her against some poor soul that fancied her. 

A set of clear blues sought hers as she scanned the group of dwarves. In the early afternoon light, the sun caught the tendrils of his dark mane as it brushed at his cheeks in the breeze. Their gazes caught each other, lingering a little too long. Long enough for her to catch a wide eyed expression that confused her. She offered him a small smile, his eyes dropping before he turned his attention to the others. 

Gandalf turned his brilliant steed to face them, staff raised. Thorin joined his side, eyes shifting across the company. Forever the leader. Something she somewhat admired about him that set him apart from everyone else. It was the fact that he remained stoic, remained focused on what he needed to do and who he was. She envied that. She’d lost her identity a little along the way and now had been given a new one that she wasn’t sure what to do with. Who was she? She didn’t know. What was she? She didn’t know either. Yet, she couldn’t deny the promise of what was to come would answer all. 

A dark shadow fell upon her from one side, Aria’s eyes lifting to meet those of Beorn’s. “Are you ready, child?” 

Aria nodded. “As ready as I will ever be.”

“You do not sound very confident in your answer.” He noted, smirking. “Are you afraid?” 

Aria nodded, the feeling deep inside her but there none-the-less. “Yes. It would be unwise to say I wasn’t.” 

Beorn nodded, his gaze soft. “That it would be. Not all who charge head on into battle are without fear. I can say that I have felt the same long ago.” 

She wanted to know more about what he spoke of, but knew there wasn’t much time. Instead, she nodded. 

 “Thank you again for your hospitality,” she told him. “We couldn’t have gone on without your help.” 

“I would do anything in my power to aid a child of Yavannah.” Beorn nodded. 

She laughed shakily, unsure how to feel about the title. “You don’t have to call me that. My name is Aria, you know.” 

“I feel you need a different name instead.” Beorn stated thoughtfully, eyes lifting to the azure sky. “Yes, you are Aria. But in this world, others acquire names from deeds. You have forged your own path so far - have become something far greater. The question is…what shall we call you?” 

Aria gazed at their host in confusion as he scratched his gnarled chin. “Aria is still fine, Beorn.” 

“I will call you the Fire Flower. That might sound better.” He surmised. “You are small but powerful with crimson hair like fire, but you are beautiful like a flower.” 

Aria blinked a few times, attempting to comprehend what Beorn was trying to tell her. Tane’s amused thoughts brushed against hers like blades of grass and she pursed her lips as he all but giggled inside her mind. She wanted to correct the skin changer, inform him again that there was no need. Before she could say anything, however, Tane began moving forward toward the gathering company. 

“Safe travels, Fire Flower.” Beorn called with a wave. Aria stiffened as Tane started forward toward their company. “May you fair safely toward the end of your journey. Call upon me if you are in need of aid. I will find you.” 

She turned, slapping on a wary smile and waving back at him despite his brash announcement. She could hear the others behind her whispering amongst themselves, eyes burning into her skin as they tried to figure out what exactly their host meant. Tane stepped further into the company, the others parting ways for the Warg. He stopped toward the front and just within earshot of the wizard and their leader. 

“Miss Aria?” A voice called from her left and she turned to find Bilbo gazing up at her, clutching his pack with a few more loaves of bread compared to what he’d had before. “May I ride with you?” 

Tane acknowledged his request and agreed, so she nodded. “Oh, Bilbo. Of course you can.” 

She helped lift him upward onto the Warg, his weight settling behind her. He gripped her shirt for support, the feeling somewhat comforting. She was thankful he was there and would be there even beyond the edge of Mirkwood. She would miss her Warg, but at least one of her friends would be by her side. 

She had pictured departing from the shape shifter’s establishment would leave her feeling rested and ready for whatever came. Yet, she couldn’t help but feel as if she were heading toward her demise. Or, perhaps, someone else’s demise. She wasn’t entirely sure the path, but she felt it to be dark and twisted despite all the warmth she’d felt in the past few days. A small, distant voice inside her head whispered of turmoil, of hardship, and she couldn’t shake it away. She lifted her eyes toward Beorn, who continued to stand before his home with a pleasant look upon his face. 

You will see him again, she thought to herself. We have to. 

“Is everyone ready?” Gandalf asked, eyes filled with amusement as Aria glanced back at him. There were murmurs of agreement as Aria nodded. “Very well. Let us be off, then.” 

Thorin turned his horse away with the tugging of her reins. The others lurched forward with the wizard at the head. Tane stepped in line beside Dwalin and Balin, who rode on either side of her. They nodded her way and she gave them a small smile. The sun was far beyond its apex, signaling mid-afternoon. Shadows had begun to grow around them, a light breeze ruffling the tendrils of her braided hair. The ornaments within the strands glittered in the sunlight and her mind wondered if that had been the reason why Thorin had looked so shaken.  

“You look nervous. Are ya alrigh’? ” A voice shook her from her thoughts and she glanced up. 

Bofur, who had not been there previously, sidled up beside her. His expression was soft, as if he could detect her warring thoughts. She offered him a nod, a sigh escaping her lips. She’d done her best to keep her expressions in check, but she’d not been the best at such things in the past. 

“I’m fine, Bofur. Just a little nervous.” She shook her head. Bilbo glancing between the two. “I’ve never been on a quest before. It takes some getting used to.” 

“Aye, it does. Believe it or not, I haven’t either. But, it’ll be okay. Yer a tough one.” He stated, a smug look upon his face. “If you’re feelin’ some type o’ way about it, I’m here. I can’t have my girl feeling sad.” 

Bilbo spluttered behind her, a sound similar to that of someone choking on their cup of coffee. He turned sharply toward the dwarf, the hands gripping her new shirt tightening. “Sir, I beg your finest pardon?” 

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Bofur, its never going to happen.” 

“A dwarf can dream, can’t he?” Bofur sighed. “But tha’ doesn’t mean I can overlook how upset ya seem ta look. I’m just here ta offer some support is all.” 

Did she appear troubled? She knew her mind felt sluggish and fearful, but did her outward appearance seem as so? Immediately, she felt bad. She wasn’t one to linger on what she looked like nor was she one that wished to offer a window into her suffering. For Bofur to observe her caused a great calamity within. He wasn’t the most observant given the fact that he was always somewhat lost when it came down to directions. To have him note her internal conflict made external alerted her just how much her guard had fallen. Perhaps it was a good thing, but it didn’t cease to trouble her all the same. 

“I’m sorry,” She told him with a smile. “I don’t mean to make you worry.” 

“Miss Aria,” Bilbo stated from behind her, sounding far less disgruntled and more of that kind, brotherly way he was growing into, “We care about you. We will always worry whether you are alright or not.” 

Aria felt her heart lurch, tears stinging at the corner of her eyes. Dammit. They were going to make her cry. She’d tried to refrain from doing so, but emotions were hard to control at times. Especially when she felt so raw, it was even harder to control. She felt a tear slide down her cheek, Bofur’s eyes widening. He floundered, apologizing profusely as she shook her head at him.

“They are good tears, I promise.” She told him. 

Bofur eyed her warily, but nodded. “If ya say so, lass. Don’ wanna be the reason ya cryin’. The Warg and the hobbit might end me.” 

She couldn’t help herself. She laughed. Bofur gazed at her with bewilderment, utterly confused as to why she was laughing and crying at the same time. She couldn’t explain the feeling then, but someday she would. He excused himself to fall behind to the others, eyes still wide. 

As soon as her eyes dried, she lifted them toward the opposite horizon. She could see Gandalf and Thorin in a heavy discussion, each expression taut and worried. Her previous emotion of laughter faded for a moment as worry crept in once more. 

“Everything alright, Miss Aria?” Bilbo’s voice rose from behind. She felt his weight shift as he most likely leaned to the side to see in front. 

Aria shook her head. She leaned in toward Bilbo, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Well, I’m trying to figure out what Thorin and Gandalf are talking about that is making the discussion so heated.” 

“I can’t say I understand it either.” Bilbo finally replied. “But, it might be because Gandalf is leaving us.” 

She snorted. “I thought we were past that, though. He’s got business elsewhere. I think we can make it through the woods without him.” 

She felt Bilbo’s grip upon her shirt tighten again. She wasn’t sure she entirely liked the feeling. They felt small, vulnerable, and frightened. This wasn’t Bilbo. This wasn’t her Hobbit. What caused him to fear the way forward? Why did it seem that he didn’t fully agree with her statement. 

Glancing upward, she found the wizard and their leader had ceased their discussion. Gandalf, who remained at the head of their caravan, seemed to sit up a tad bit straighter than he had before. She wondered what went through is mind and what business tore him away from the company? 

But, again, she was reminded that she had too many questions that needed far too many answers. Maybe someone could eventually grant her wish when she had prepared herself to ask the right person the right question. But for the time being, all she needed to focus on was the road ahead. It was all she could do to keep from losing herself to her loud thoughts. 

They do seem loud today, The Stranger thrummed. Are you afraid? I cannot understand why the Fire Flower would be afraid? Such a fitting title now, it seems. 

Aria rolled her eyes. Get out of my head. 

It is tough to whenever you’re in mind. The Stranger growled. You have too many inside your mind, it seems. The other two seem so loud. Coupled with your thoughts, it makes it hard sleep. 

Aria felt her mind go blank. Erecting a makeshift mental wall, she sealed him off from detection, using that strength as well communicate only with him. What the hell are you talking about? 

It seems to me that there are two others besides yourself and I. The Stranger did not sound amused. It is odd. There is a presence that I have not felt them in quite some time. 

Aria felt her eyes narrow. What on Earth was he talking about? Someone he knew from long ago? Again, she wondered just who the hell he was, how old he was, and why on earth he could speak to her. Too many questions and not enough answers. 

She felt Tane’s telepathic nudge at her sudden shift in mood and, like a call on a cell phone she didn’t want to take, she swiped The Stranger’s presence away. She opened her mind to him again just as a familiar presence sidled up beside her. His mane of hair fluttered in the breeze like a dark curtain, his eyes seeking hers before shifting to the Hobbit behind her. 

“How do you fair, Master Baggins?” Thorin’s deep baritone felt like honey in her coffee on a cool morning. 

She felt Bilbo shrug, the tight grip upon her shirt loosening slightly. “I fair well.” 

Thorin nodded, a passive thing, before he turned to her. “Fairing alright, Miss Jackson?” 

Aria sighed, turning her face toward the dwarf with a plaster smile. “Yep! I’m good!” 

It was over exuberant and fake, she knew that. It seemed, Thorin did too. He narrowed his gaze at her as if detecting the fact that her smile wasn’t entirely genuine. If he wanted to say something, though, he restrained himself and she was thankful. He simply nodded at her but remained at her side in silence as the part moved on. 

Then, it became deafening. 

“What were Gandalf and you talking about up there? It looked pretty heated.” She asked, glancing up toward the wizard and then back at Thorin. “If you don’t mind me asking.” 

Thorin sighed, giving her a tired smile. “It was about him leaving us.” 

“Called it.” Bilbo whispered from behind me. Aria snorted. 

Thorin disregarded the Hobbit and sighed. “It appears he is actually leaving us.” 

“Unfortunately, the bits and pieces I remember of my grandmother’s story mention that it is to happen.” Aria told him, glancing toward him. “Besides, we don’t always need to rely on him, do we? We are strong as a whole and I think we can make it out if we stick together and stay diligent.” 

Thorin was silent for a moment, eyes unfocused as if truly absorbing her words. She wondered if she’d said the wrong thing, worrying that he would be angry with her boldness. She made to fix what she’d done, holding her hands out. 

“Okay, that might have been a little bold of me…” She began. 

“That was very inspiring, Miss Jackson.” Thorin interrupted, holding his own palm out at her. 

“Oh,” Aria shook her head. “I’m glad you thought it was inspiring. I am serious, though. We just have to stick together and it should be alright for us.” 

Thorin nodded, offering her a smile. “Very well, Miss Jackson. I will return to the front but I will keep your words close and think upon them.” 

He ushered his mare forward with a gently thump upon her sides. The horse snorted, lifting her muzzle before trotting off toward the front. The others watched him as he passed, glancing behind them to look at her with questions in their eyes before returning them to the front. Aria was left in the silence of the ride, her mind wondering truly what the dwarf prince honestly thought of her statement. 

Moments passed quietly. Aria recalled that in certain stories and movies, the monotonous moments during a journey as long as this one were never truly explained. She’d wondered when she’d read a book or watched a fantasy film just what they did to pass the time while moving from point A to point B. This group before her seemed solemn, almost melancholy, and she wasn’t sure if there was a way to get them to feel any better. Tane, too, felt something akin to dread. She knew it was for her sake, but it hurt her heart to sense it from him. Absentmindedly, she placed a palm against the thick fur of his neck as he walked. His warmth radiated through her like a blanket placed over her shoulders in winter. Hours passed like this. Or, at least, what she thought were hours. Without a time piece or something akin to that, she didn’t know the concept and, thus, was lost to simply observe the scenery around her. 

Something began to lift into the air as soon as she turned her attention back to the party. She narrowed her gaze, attempting to focus and comprehend what she was hearing. It didn’t take long, however, to understand it was a hum and that hum was coming from behind her. She attempted to turn her body, feeling the vibration of the hum through the small of her back. 

“Bilbo?” She asked, “Is that you?” 

The hum ceased. “Yes. It’s a bit quiet, so I figured I would sing a little to myself.” 

Aria nodded, heart warming toward him, smile quirking at the edge of her mouth. It was so quiet, so somber, that the thought of music to lift spirits seemed like a great idea. They had heard her before, but she’d never heard him. She turned slightly in her seat. 

“I think I agree with you.” She told him with a grin. “Don’t mind me. Go ahead. It might lighten the mood a bit.” 

Bilbo seemed slightly weary at the prospect of singing aloud to where the others could hear him. She gave a small smile, having felt that way not days ago. She drank in the cool, sweet air and filled her lungs with courage. Her mind raced, but she felt a new fire beneath her skin. She’d known it for only a small amount of time and a long while ago during the beginning of their journey, but it was there. 

Hope.

Hope that things would go alright. A hope that she would survive this ordeal and find herself at the other end. Hope that she would find out more about herself and aid those in need. Hope that she would find somewhere to belong. If not for hope, all would be lost. 

“There’s a road calling you to stray,” Came a timid voice from behind her, small hands gripping tight upon her shirt.  “Step by step, pulling you away.”

Aria turned her ear to him. She knew this song. It echoed in her head, her grandmother’s voice strong as it lifted through her thoughts and saturated them. She’d sung this to a young Aria as the latter fought to stay awake. Aria had been more interested in the story then, her imagination having not been slaughtered by life’s unfortunate circumstances. What were the next words? They were there like a gleaming rock under a rampant, frothy sea. 

Internally, she reached forward. 

“Under moon and star…” She voiced aloud, the words coming from her but her mind aiding it none. Her voice was off, but she breathed deeply, reaching for the next lines. 

She felt Bilbo’s tightened grip loosen. Hopeful? 

“Take the road, no matter how far.” He finished. 

“Ah,” Aria saw Gandalf sit a little straighter, turning slightly toward them. “I believe I know this one. How does it go…” 

She nodded her head. “Where it leads, no one ever knows…” 

“Don’t look back, follow where it goes,” Bilbo went on. 

“Far beyond the Sun, take the road, wherever it runs.” Gandalf finished, his voice a deep baritone but good nonetheless. 

With a few bobbles, the trio continued in unison, their voices meshing rather harmonically to lift into the air like warm scarves to lay upon the company: 

The Road goes on
Ever ever on
Hill by hill
Mile by mile
Field by field
Stile by stile.
The Road goes on
Ever ever on

The Road goes on
Ever ever on
Hill by hill
Mile by mile
Field by field
Stile by stile.
The Road goes on
Ever ever on

They sang a little more, it seemed. A few of the lines Aria nor Bilbo could remember. The dwarves, she noticed, began to appear as if a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. Thorin even seemed to crack a smile, crows feet forming at the corners of his eyes as he observed the three of them sing. His clear blues found hers for a moment before turning toward the others. Aria found they, too, appeared to be enjoying the song. 

In one instance, Bombur – who Aria had not really heard sing let alone speak before – began with a line that fit him so well, she laughed out loud until her ribs hurt. 

“One more mile, then its time to eat…” He went. The others guffawed, chortling as to how he only focused on food.

“That’s not part of the song…” Bilbo stated thoughtfully. 

“No,” Aria smirked as the others laughed and began to hum beyond them. “But I believe your idea is working.” 

“My idea?” Bilbo’s voice warbled a bit. “What do you mean?” 

“Look out among them, Bilbo. Look and listen.” Aria lifted her hands, palms facing the sky and swept her arms out in front to signify the entire company who sang and laughed ahead of them and behind. “Do you hear the quiet anymore?” 

He listened, his fingers releasing their grip upon the backside of her shirt. She’d be surprised if there weren't permanent wrinkles after their journey to the wood. Right then, though, it mattered little. 

After a moment, he snorted. “No, I don’t suppose I do.” 

Then, Bilbo joined them, creating his own lyrics as well that spoke of his home. She added her own as well, spring boarding from the lyrics of food into some of her own. 

“Pick some pears , succulent and sweet…” Ori went on after she spoke of smaller fruit. 

“Sweet pink trout, tickled from a stream…” Bofur laughed, finishing the line. 

“Milk the goat, churn it into cream…” Dori followed. 

The chorus of dwarves rose again : “To the farthest shores, take the road, a hundred miles more.” 

The song went on for what seemed like forever. They sang and laughed, the sky remaining open to fill with their joyful discussions and revelry. The land began to change slightly. The topography felt flatter, almost akin to the plains of Oklahoma back home. Green stretched onward far into the distance from horizon to horizon, a thick grass like carpet beneath their steeds’ hooves and paws. 

Aria listened as best and joined them, singing a few songs per request of the others. She joined Bilbo in a few, learning the words as she went. Every so often, she bobbled but none of the others jeered at her in disgust. Instead, laughter at their own mess ups flowed around them all like wine during a party. Her face felt hot, but her smile never went away. By the time they finished their songs, her cheeks hurt by the act of it. 

Eventually, the bright sunlight began to wane. Shadows lengthened, deep golden light streaking through individual blades of grass to ignite them like fire. Photographers back home would have called the moment the “Golden Hour” and she was reminded of liquid sunlight being spilled upon the foliage. 

When the deep golden hues of the landscape began to dull, Aria heard Gandalf announce they needed to make camp soon. She glanced around, noting that the land had not changed and remained as flat as it had been miles before. An uneasy feeling fluttered within her chest and a statement she knew well formed inside her head. 

They were sitting ducks. 

She wanted to say something to someone, but she noted the demeanor of the entire party as they began to circle around a specific area with their horses. Most began to dismount and begin preparations for making camp. Tane followed Bofur’s horse, stopping just shy of the of the others to observe. She felt his trepidation toward the area, his eyes and ears scanning and listening to the various sounds. She heard these all through their connection and felt her heart swell with worry. 

 I feel it too, cub. He noted, turning his attention to her for a moment before returning it back fully on what he had been doing. It is not safe out in the open like this. 

Who will listen to us? She asked him, another bout of uncertainty going through her at the thought of being laughed at when suggesting to move elsewhere. 

They should listen to you, Tane growled. Because if they don't, and you are injured for some reason due to their folly, I will gut them like a stag. 

She rested her hand upon his neck, feeling his scruff rise with anger at the very thought while his rage simmered beneath her skin. He eased his emotions a little as she urged him toward Thorin as him and the wizard conversed quietly amongst themselves. A look of worry passed over Thorin’s stoic features, something she’d not seen in a bit since Beorn’s. For a moment, she felt a swell of confidence in her own trepidation. 

They noticed her immediately, a smile forming on Gandalf’s lips as he greeted her.

“Ah, Miss Jackson, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Gandalf asked, mirth his his eyes. 

She slid from Tane’s back, Bilbo following after her. He grunted as he landed, the distance slightly farther than hers. She squared her shoulders at the other two before her, ignoring the expectant looks from them. She wasn’t usually one to speak up or tell someone her thoughts. That had afforded her the worst punishment with her foster parents. Instead, she’d kept her opinions and worries to herself and had gotten herself accustomed to the feeling. Speaking out meant horrid things and she always wished to avoid that. 

Biting back the sensation of impending doom, Aria drank in the summer air and went for it. 

“I’m afraid we are too out in the open tonight,” She told them. “What if something happens upon us?” 

Bilbo stood beside her, nodding. “I agree. I remember there are still perturbed Orcs somewhere in our wake.” 

Thorin gazed at the Hobbit for quite some time as if remembered the insanity and the horror that had taken place upon the mountainside. Aria wasn’t even sure how long ago that had been. It seemed far away but she knew it truly wasn’t. She remembered that night as if it were the day before. She recalled the carnage, felt the burn upon her cheek from the scar that had been left there. Tane’s worry pressed on her from inside her mind and she allowed his warmth to comfort her. 

Thorin’s clear blues seemed thoughtful as his mind worked through their statement. He knew what they meant. He had to or he had no business calling himself their leader. He wasn’t an idiot nor was he dense. Proud, perhaps, but Aria understood that to be something all leaders shared. 

“We will have a guard erected.” Thorin finally spoke, turning his gaze to Aria and nodding. “We will rotate those who are on watch during the night.” 

“Let me be part of it, then.” Aria straightened herself. 

Thorin narrowed his eyes, but nodded again. “Very well. You will take the first watch with me.” 

“What about me?” Bilbo asked. “I would like to help out if I can.” 

Thorin smiled. “You can join us, Mister Baggins. If you are up for it.” 

Bilbo seemed to bristle. “I am up for anything.” 

Thorin snorted, but turned away from them to signify the conversation was over. Bilbo turned to Aria with an expression of uncertainty, but shrugged before leaving with his things to join the others. Aria lingered for a moment, eyeing their leader with contempt before turning away to follow. Tane snorted, his lack of faith that a simple watch would aid them flowing from his mind to hers. She agreed, but shrugged. 

There’s not point in arguing, she told him with a sigh. But I can at least help. 

The group had begun gathering wood for the fire. There wasn’t much around them, simple twigs and plenty of drying grass served as the base. The other dwarves had dug away the grass under the kindling, leaving bare dirt , and had gathered a few stones to place around the base in order to prevent some stray embers from bleeding onto the grass. Bofur had taken on the mantel of Firestarter, swiftly knapping what appeared to be two stones into kindling. Sparks flew like lighting bugs before a small curl of smoke began to twist into the air. He blew on it for a few moments until small tongues of flame began licking at his cheeks. Aria smiled, rubbing her hands together to fight the little bit of chill that had nipped at her fingertips. It felt cool but not too cold that night. The shadows were thick around them and she was thankful for the steady glow of the newly birthed fire to help ebb away her fear of the darkness. 

She chose a spot close to the heat of the flames. Tane followed, sniffing the air for any signs of danger. She busied herself with getting her own sleep area prepared. She soon realized while setting her backpack down that someone had placed what appeared to be some sort of sleep sack inside it. She wasn’t sure who had done so but she thanked them regardless. She’d not thought ahead as to what she’d sleep on, thinking purely of the others and the fact that she was venturing into yet another dark place filled with gloom and the prospect of danger. All that kept her sane was the fact that she was surrounded by dwarves who seemed pretty battle savvy and a Warg that was closer to her than her true family. 

Are you settled, child? Tane’s voice rang in her head as he approached. 

She nodded. Yes. I just found a sleep sack inside my backpack. It seems someone was looking out for me. 

Tane turned his head toward Thorin, who distracted himself by brushing his steed with a large hand. The piebald coat gleamed in the last remaining light of the sun, the deep gold that had blanketed the plain long gone. 

 I don’t know, Aria countered the thought forming inside her warg’s mind. It might have been the brothers. 

Or the short one. Tane commented, shaking his head. His ears flopped against his skull, his fur ruffled. 

His name is Bilbo, Tane. Aria sighed, taking the sleep sack from her pack and unrolling it to splay ground. She kneeled to tidy it up, her knees creaking like old hinges. He’s a very good friend now. Almost like a sibling. You can call him by his name. 

The Warg snorted, ignoring her statement while lifting his muzzle to the air. I do not smell the orc upon the breeze. I think we are safe.

I would feel more comfortable with a watch. Aria stated, running her palms over the plain brown cloth of the sleep sack to smooth the edges. It smelled of smoke and wood and unlike their host or the leader of their company. Instead, it reminded her of the brothers and Aria smiled, thankful for someone who chose to watch out for her when she couldn’t do so herself. 

That goes without saying, Tane sniffed at the ground, turning around himself until he found a place comfortable enough to lay. With a groan she associated with his age and a few pops of his joints, the great beast settled upon the grass with a deep sigh. But, the dwarf prince and the tiny one are not enough to keep you safe. 

Aria rolled her eyes. I trust them. Why don’t you? 

She felt Tane’s annoyance at her lack of understanding, but he was patient with her like any father figure would be. He opened his thoughts to hers, allowing his worries to flow into her mind. She saw the threat that loomed upon the horizon. She saw the promise of darkness and shadow beyond his control. Fear that his body would give out before he had a chance to save her and those she cared about. Then, she saw his vision of their leader and how her warg saw Thorin through his lupine eyes. To Tane, who had fought many battles before and had shown great courage in the face of danger, respected the dwarf only a little. Thorin appeared untrained and unfit for what was to come, which Tane felt was something so immense it would encompass many other races into something much larger than themselves. 

Bilbo was cowardly in Tane’s eyes. The Hobbit had not shown much courage even though Aria knew he had. Tane noted that within Bilbo’s eyes was the wish to flee, to escape back to a place he called the Shire. His home. Tane wasn’t sure what it was but had heard of its comfortable atmosphere and rolling green hills. There were houses inside these hills, round and ornate for the country folk who lived in them. 

He does not want to be here, cub. Tane stated, shaking his head. I fear he will abandon you. He holds secrets. Powerful secrets. 

Then let him. She said, tidying up her sleeping sack and turning to the Warg. Let him hide whatever he wants to. He still has helped immensely. He doesn’t deserve your judgement. He’s a long way from home just like I am. This world is new to both of us and far more dangerous than what we are used to. Give him a break. 

Tane chewed on her comment, laying his head upon his immense forepaws. If he gets you hurt, I will eat him. 

Aria groaned in frustration, lifting her gaze away from the grumpy canine. She stood, her eyes widening at the sight of the brilliant sunset that had painted the sky above them. Rich hues of amber, red, and purple ignited the clouds as they spilled before them. She’d seen those back home and recalled just how brilliant she thought they had been but nothing had prepared her for Middle Earth. Nothing seemed to come close to how vivid and how real everything seemed to be. 

“It’s far different than what you are used to, I assume?” A voice came from behind her and she turned. 

Thorin stood a few feet away, his arms crossed behind his back. He’d shed his thick fur cloak, a comfortable appearing blouse the shade of deep blue adorning his frame. His forearms were bare, the sleeves having been pushed upward to expose thick, corded muscle beneath. She felt her eyes widen again and heat spread through her cheeks. 

She felt Tane’s alert rise, his head lifting from his paws to curl a lip at the approaching dwarf. Thorin ceased his approach, unsure if he wished to proceed. Aria felt herself sigh heavily again, shoulders sagging, and turned to the Warg to pin him with a glare. Tane seemed to heed her warning but the narrowed, judgmental gaze of his still remained. 

Aria turned back to the dwarf. “Yes. Its far more vivid here than it was back home. It looks like a painting.” 

Thorin tilted his head, perhaps unsure of what she spoke of. “A painting?” 

Aria faced the sunset, the colors darkening as the sun dipped further below the horizon. “Yes. People used mixed colors to depict things on walls or canvas. Things like landscapes or people and animals. I used to do it a long time again but I don’t anymore.” 

“It must have been painful to give up something like that.” He stated, slowly approaching to stand beside her. A faint growl emanated from behind but she ignored it. 

She shrugged, recalling that it hadn’t been as painful as leaving after her grandmother had passed. “No. There were other things that hurt more.” 

Thorin nodded, but if he had been interested in her past, he didn’t disclose. Instead, he observed the waning light as the others spoke and laughed behind them. Tane lowered his head again, the fatigue of travel taking a toll upon his body. He fought sleep, wishing to remain awake to keep an eye upon the dwarf prince. Aria thought this funny as she was reminded, yet again, of a father watching warily as his daughter spoke to a boy she liked for the first time. 

“Dwalin has chosen to stay on watch with us tonight,” Thorin stated after a few moments of silence, eyes still facing the waning light. “He insists on teaching you how to defend yourself.”

Aria turned sharply toward the dwarf. “What?” 

Thorin smirked, turning to her. “I insisted he didn’t need to trouble himself and that I would teach you myself, but he was not pleased. Apparently, he is not very happy with how I fight either.” 

“You’re joking?” Aria gave Thorin a look of disbelief, placing her hands on her hips. “He doesn’t like me.” 

Thorin rolled his eyes, his bushy brows rising high on his forehead. “He doesn’t want you dead. That is not a sign of dislike. Especially from him.” 

She looked ahead as her she felt her nerves flutter and dread seep in to the cracks of her makeshift wall of protection. Drayuik thrummed under the neckline of her shirt and she clutched it, its warmth nipping at the darkness a little. She had so many questions running through her head. Fear at the thought of someone she hadn’t truly spoken to much teaching her something as intricate and taxing as combat was raw and painful.  She saw flashes of her life back in Oklahoma and her foster father’s anger at what she hadn’t done or forgotten to do due to exhaustion.

What terms would Dwalin apply to her? What forms of teaching would he use? 

A hand came to rest upon her shoulder “I see your worry. Do not fret. I promise Dwalin is a fit teacher.” 

We shall see, came Tane’s reply and Aria agreed.