Chapter 21: Council and Escape

There was so much to think over and hardly a moment to spare as Sara had followed Lady Galadriel across Elrond’s gardens and up into a small round pavilion set high on a balcony. Water poured from the falls above surrounding them like curtains of clear crystal that glinted the moonlight. The lady said nothing, simply gesturing for Sara to sit before moving to look out over Rivendell. Sara sank gratefully into a chair at the round stone table, elbows on the tabletop, her head in her hands. Her feet were bare and cool on the stone floor below her, contrasting the blaze in her mind as it hummed with the revelations from the mirror.

What did it all mean? She could guess why the mirror did not show her images of Earth. Still it had been a blow to find out nothing of her family or home. She had to finish this quest and return home. Whatever Aule wanted from her she would do. She had to return to Earth and find the truth of her past. But how? What about Bilbo, Fili, Kili, and the others? What had those images in the mirror been?

The white-faced orc would haunt her dreams for many nights to come, but what scared her the most were the dead faces of Thorin, Fili, and Kili. How was she supposed to interpret that? A deep part of her didn't want to, could not stomach the thought. How could she prevent those scenes of pain and suffering? Was it possible, or would trying only cause them to come about as in Frodo and Sam’s case? Galadriel said the mirror only showed what was possible in the future but not everything necessarily came to be. Sara clutched her head in confusion. The thought of their deaths was unbearable.

Despite the fact that she would someday leave this place she had grown close to Bilbo, Fili, and Kili. It had not been a conscious thing. In fact, if she had thought objectively about it she would have held herself back. She had meant to. There was no point in it. She belonged on earth. But who could have remained aloof with Fili, Kili, or Bofur around? And it just hurt to think about actively ignoring Bilbo. Who could do that? Perhaps Thorin, but that had been part of the reason at first hadn't it. In her rush to spite Thorin she had let herself go and now she cared deeply for them.

The image of Thorin pressing her to a tree as he kissed her burned itself into her memory. Heat coiled low in her stomach as she let the scene play itself out in her mind’s eye. The kiss was hot and passionate and she… No! There was no point dwelling on something that was clearly never going to happen. Could not happen. Perhaps her feelings related to Thorin were changing, were growing… a little. He wasn't quite as bad as she had first assumed, but that didn't exactly mean he was a dreamy hunk ether.

It was ridiculous to think that he would ever even consider her in that way. Thorin had only recently begun to speak to her with more than distant civility, let alone show any type of interest in her. Besides, she was hardly what a dwarf would consider attractive as apparently dwarves preferred their women with beards. And there was the fact that she could not afford to get tangled up in anything like that here in Middle Earth. This heart-sister business with Fili was bad enough. Not that she didn't care for Fili or the others, but she would not be here forever and the closer she got to them the more it would hurt to let go when the time came. She had a life back on earth that was waiting for her... she hoped. But the mirror wasn't supposed to lie so maybe it was possible that Thorin and her... The sound of footsteps on the stairs broke her from her thoughts.

“With or without our help the dwarves will march on the mountain. Thorin is determined to reclaim their homeland and he feels he is not answerable to anyone,” said Gandalf's voice. “Nor for that matter am I.” He and Lord Elrond reach the top step.

“It is not me you must answer to,” said Elrond, nodding toward Lady Galadriel.

“Ah,” said Gandalf, spotting the white lady. “Lady Galadriel, forgive me.”

“Gandalf,” she said with a small smile that nonetheless lit up her eyes.

“Age may have changed me, but not so the lady of Lorien.” Galadriel inlined her head. “Tell me, why have you called this council together?” asked Gandalf his eyes sliding toward Sara, his eyebrows raised slightly in question. Sara shrugged and gave a small nod in the direction of the elf lady.

“She didn't,” said a voice on the steps. “I did.”

Gandalf closed his eyes, a resignation pinching his lips together. A figure clad all in white reached the top step. He carried a tall white staff and looked as old as Gandalf which was … well who knew how old Gandalf was. Ageless probably. Gandalf turned and gave a slight nod to the new cover.

“Saruman,” greeted Elrond.

Saruman! Warning bells sounded in Sara’s mind. Saruman the white wizard? The same wizard who would in the future betray and capture Gandalf, attempting to turn him to the will of Sauron? The wizard who would breed the Uruk-hai and lay waste to the edge of Fangorn Forest, calling the wrath of the ents down upon himself. The wizard who would try to stop the fellowship at every opportunity? Could there be any other? Sara sat rigidly in her chair as the white wizard spied her, a frown creasing his face. She would need to tread carefully. It was not known when Saruman would be turned; perhaps he already had. Even if he hadn't, he would someday, and every bit of information he knew about the future he would surely pass on to Sauron. She could not afford to slip up.

“Who is this? Why is she here?” asked Saruman, scrutinizing her.

“I wish her to be a party in our council,” said Galadriel. The white wizard looked to the lady.

“I do not pretend to understand your reasoning, my lady, but if you wish it...” Gandalf stepped forward and placed a hand on Sara’s shoulder.

“This is Sara Miller. She is one of Thorin Oakenshield’s companions.” Saruman sat down across from Sara and Gandalf sat to her right.

“You have been busy of late, my friend,” said Saruman, turning his gaze to the other wizard. “Tell me Gandalf, did you really think that these plans and schemes of yours would go unnoticed.”

“Unnoticed?”

“Indeed,” said Elrond, pacing slowly. “You said nothing of the dwarves’ true purpose or design until this evening.”

“I was simply doing what I felt to be right,” defended Gandalf. “I was going to tell you. I only awaited the proper chance. Really, I think you can trust that I know what I'm doing.”

“Do you?” asked Elrond seriously, pausing in his step. “That dragon has slept for over sixty years. What if your plan should fail and you wake that beast?”

“What if we should succeed?” countered Gandalf. “If the dwarves take back the mountain our defenses in the East will be strengthened.”

“The dragon has long been on your mind,” said Lady Galadriel looking to Gandalf from where she stood.

“It is true my lady. Smaug owes allegiance to no one, but should he side with the Enemy, a dragon could be used to terrible effect.”

“What enemy?” cut in Saruman impatiently. “Gandalf the Enemy is defeated. Sauron is vanquished. He can never again regain his full strength.”

“He doesn't need his full strength to cause trouble in Middle Earth,” muttered Sara. The white wizard’s eyes darted to her, irritated.

“What would you know of this? We speak of an ancient evil far older than you.” Sara ducked her head under his scrutiny but Gandalf quickly drew his attention.

“Does it not worry you that the last of the dwarf rings should simply vanish, along with its barer,” asserted Gandalf. “We know what happened to all save one, but the fate of the last dwarf ring remains unknown. The ring that was worn by Thrain.”

Saruman shook his head. “Without the ring of power, the seven are of no value to the enemy. To control the other rings he needs the One Ring, and that was lost long ago.”

“But lost things can be found,” said Sara.

“Must you interrupt so?” asked Saruman, scowling at her. “Keep quiet if you must remain. What wisdom could you have that this council does not.” It was silent as Sara sat back in her chair, arms folded protectively over her chest.

“Let her speak as she will,” said Galadriel softly. “She may know more than you think.”

“Gandalf, for over four hundred years we have lived in peace. A hard-won watchful peace,” said Elrond, striving to move the conversation away from Sara.

“Are we? Are we at peace?” countered Gandalf. “Trolls have come down from the mountains and are raiding villages and farms. Orcs have attacked us on the road.”

“Hardly a prelude to war.”

“Always you must meddle so,” chided Saruman. “Looking for trouble where none exists.”

“I would say that getting captured and almost eaten by trolls and hunted by Orcs is plenty of trouble. The farmers and villages they killed and ate would hardly call it peace. Would you?” asked Sara. She was uncomfortable with the way that Saruman strove to undo all of Gandalf's concerns. Concerns that to her were beyond valid.

“There's something at work beyond the evil of Smaug; something far more powerful,” said Gandalf, lacing his fingers together and surveying the others before continuing. “We can remain blind to it but it will not be ignoring us, that I promise you. A sickness lies over the Greenwood. The woodsman who live there now call it Mirkwood and they say…” But Gandalf paused.

“Well?” pressed Saruman, goading him. “Don't stop now. Tell us, what do the woodsman say?”

“They speak of a necromancer living in Dol Guldur; a sorcerer who can summon the dead.”

“That's absurd,” scoffed Saruman. “No such power exists in Middle Earth. This necromancer is nothing more than a mortal man, a conjurer dabbling in black magic.”

“Sounds like pretty black magic,” said Sara. “And whose is to say that power does not exist? Do you know the full extent of Sauron's power for yourself? Can you say for sure he does not possess that strength, now or ever?” Gandalf reached out and patted her hand to stay her.

“I also suspected that at first but Radagast has seen…”

“Radagast!” snapped the white wizard. “Do not speak to me of Radagast the Brown. He is a foolish fellow. Why Lady Yavanna insisted I bring him I will never understand. He is witless and consumes far too many mushrooms” Gandalf and Lady Galadriel shared a look and Gandalf pulled the same wrapped blade which Radigast had given him from his robes. He placed it on the table as a chill breeze wafted past sending a shiver down Sara’s spine.

“What is that?” questioned Elrond coming closer to examine it, his hand outstretched.

“A relic,” said Galadriel sharply. “Of Mordor!” Elrond pulled his hand away slightly but then reached forward and uncovered the dark blade. Saruman frowned at the object on the table.

“A Morgul blade,” breathed Elrond in dark reverence.

“Made for the Witch King of Angmar,” said Galadriel, stepping closer. “And buried with him,” she added hesitantly. Sara recalled the witch-king from the Lord of the Rings. His death at the hands of Eowyn had been one of her favorite parts of the stories. What was his blade doing here? The same type of blade that would someday stab Frodo.

“That is not possible,” said Elrond. “A powerful spell lies upon those tombs. They cannot be opened.”

“Well, then how did this get here?” asked Sara, pointing at the dagger. The ringwraiths were terrifying creatures but she could not remember what they did save for their appearances in the book. What was going on?

“What proof do we have that this weapon came from Angmar’s grave?” asked Saruman dismissively.

“I have none,” replied Gandalf.

“Because there is none,” said the white wizard, his voice inpatient. “Let us examine what we know. A single orc pack has dared to cross the Bruinen, a dagger from a bygone age has been found, and a human sorcerer who calls himself ‘The Necromancer’ has taken up residence in an old fortress. It is not so very much after all.”

“But you don't know for certain the necromancer is human,” pointed out Sara. “And that still does not explain how a dagger got out of a tomb that no one is supposed to be able to open.”

“These things can be answered later,” said Saruman, waving off her concerns. “The question of this dwarvish company, however, troubles me deeply. I'm not convinced Gandalf. I do not feel I can condone such a quest.”

“You can’t stop Thorin from taking back Erebor,” said Sara quickly. “He must be allowed to continue.”

“She is right,” interjected Gandalf. “We cannot stand in their way, there could be catastrophic consequences.” He looked to each of his companions in turn before continuing. “It could alter our future beyond all hope of repair.” Saruman’s eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“What could be more catastrophic than waking a dragon?” questioned Elrond.

“How could you possibly know that,” snapped Saruman.

“Perhaps it is time to reveal some of your secrets, Sara Miller,” said Lady Galadriel softly.

Gandalf took Sara’s right hand in his and carefully removed the glove, laying her hand on the table for the others to see. Elrond leaned over to see before taking her hand in his. Wonder shone in his eyes. Saruman sat rigidly in his chair, face placid, giving away nothing.

“But this is…” said Elrond quietly.

“The symbol of Aule and Yavanna,” finished Galadriel.

“But how did you come to bear this mark?” asked the elf lord, looking to Sara in amazement.

“It is a birthmark,” she replied as he released her hand.

“It is just a simple mark,” said Saruman from his chair, his eyes glinting. “It is a mark and nothing more. Certainly nothing to sway my opinion of the dwarves’ quest.”

“How can you, a student and servant of Aule himself, dismiss this so easily?” defended Gandalf. “It is much more than a mark. Ms. Sara is from another world entirely. She was sent here by your master.”

“What proof do you have that she is what she claims to be?” asked the white wizard dubiously. “Did you see her appear here in Middle Earth yourself Gandalf, or did you simply take her word? Since when do the Valar interfere so with the affairs of Middle Earth.”

“Clearly they have not abandoned Middle Earth,” said Gandalf, gesturing to Sara. “Long ago they sent us and now they have sent Ms. Sara.”

“Yes but to what purpose Gandalf?” asked Saruman impatiently. “What are her capabilities? The whole business smacks of a farce.”

Sara reached into the folds of her skirt scowling. She withdrew her phone, selected a song at random, and placed the phone on the table glaring at Saruman.

“I’m not a liar.” Saruman snorted. She tapped play.

Going under by Evanescence blared from the deceptively powerful speakers filling the air. Elrond's eyebrows climbed so high they almost disappeared into his hair. Gandalf watched Sara with an amused smirk. Even Galadriel had a small smile on her fair lips. Saruman simply glared at her.

“Silence that noise,” commanded the wizard.

Sara waited, letting the chorus finish before she leaned forward and stopped the music.

“You tell me,” she said, looking Saruman in the eyes. “When have you ever seen or heard anything like that in all of Middle Earth?” He pursed his lips. “I don't like being called a liar. I may not understand how exactly I got here, and Gandalf was the one who said I was sent by the Valar, but I am indeed from another world born with this mark on my hand.” Elrond picked up her phone.

“What type of magic is this?” he asked, turning it over in his hands.

“Not magic. Technology. My world is full of things like this. Almost everyone where I'm from has a phone, even the children.” He handed it back.

“How exactly did you come to be here in Middle Earth and on this quest with Thorin Oakenshield?” asked The Lady Galadriel.

Gandalf recounted her story for the others with the occasional interruption for a question from Elrond or clarification from Sara. While the gray wizard spoke, Sara watched Saruman carefully for any expression. He remained impassive. When Gandalf finished the white wizard leaned forward.

“Gandalf has said that if we do not let the quest continue then our future will be in jeopardy, but how could he know such a thing?” His eyes flashed in the shadows of his face. Sara looked to Gandalf. This was dangerous water. Saruman watched her, challenging her, daring her to reveal something. What could she say that would not endanger the future or herself and yet convince them to let Thorin continue. It could be dangerous if Saruman were aware of her foreknowledge. But how could she communicate that to Gandalf? He had no idea of Saruman's treachery. But in a moment the deliberation was seized from her as Gandalf spoke.

“Sara knows the future. It is recorded in books in her world.”

“In books?” asked Saurman, interest pulling his lips into a frown. Sara tried to speak but Gnadlaf plodded on.

“Yes, books that chronicle our world and some of its events. Events in the past, present, and future.” It was silent for a moment.

“Go on then,” encouraged Saruman looking at Sara. “Tell us of the future.”

“I can't,” she said, shooting a look at Gandalf. “Or I should say I won't.”

“Oh, and why not?”

“I would not want to alter future events in any way. Who knows if a small change would tip the scales.”

“Then why should we believe you? Why should we let this Thorin continue?” She shook her head.

“I’m not going to try and prove it just to satisfy you. But if you stop Thorin, the whole of Middle Earth may very well fall.”

“Why must the company be allowed to continue?” asked Elrond, frowning. “What is so important?”

“I can’t tell you. It is too dangerous at present,” she said, gazing fixedly at the white wizard. “It would not do for any information to reach Sauron in any way, so I intend to tell no one. Not unless I deem it necessary.”

“And who are you to decide if it is necessary?” asked Saruman, sneering. She shrugged.

“I have no idea why I was sent. I would prefer it not be me, but I’m stuck here until I do whatever it is the Valar sent me to do. If this Aule and Yavanna had wanted you to know all the answers they would have sent the books to you. But instead they sent me.”

“I believe it wisdom that you keep your own counsel,” said Galadriel. Sara nodded her thanks.

“I will say this though, I may not know everything but I believe it would be best not to dismiss Gandalf's concerns. It doesn't sound like nothing to me.”

“You believe?” said Saruman coyly, leaning toward her. “Do you not know?”

“I told you. I don’t know everything. I never read The Hobbit, which is an account of the present. But I know enough of the future to understand that Thorin must be allowed to continue.”

The council was quiet for a long time. Sara sat back in her chair slipping her gloves back on before checking the time and tucking her phone back into the pocket of her dress. It was well past midnight, the sky an inky black dotted with white stars. She rubbed her eyes, not quite stifling a yawn. Saruman’s eyes flicked back to her.

“Perhaps we should continue this tomorrow,” he said, getting to his feet and leaning on his staff. “There is still much to discuss ere Thorin Oakenshield and his company leave and I for one wish to think over tonight's discussion.” He turned to Sara. “For now the dwarves shall remain here. Perhaps we can find a way to aid their quest.”

Maybe it was just her knowledge of who he would become in the future but she felt his expression did not reflect his words. He nodded to her before taking his leave and climbing down the steps and out of sight, Elrond following behind him. Sara and Gandalf rose to leave but just as they reached the steps Galadriel called after the wizard.

“Mithrandir, a word?” she asked. He looked down at Sara.

“Can you find your way back?”

“I think so,” she replied, not really sure. He must have sensed her hesitation.

“Your room is over there.” He pointed across the dark garden to a few lit windows. “If you are unsure, wait for me at the bottom of the stairs and I will see you back.” She nodded and began to descend the winding stair. The night was chill and as she reached the ground once again she regretted leaving her coat in her room for dinner. She could see the windows Gandalf had pointed out and not wanting to stand around in the dark she began her tentative way back. She had made it through the gardens and could see Elrond’s house once again when a tall figure stepped out of the shadows to her right. The white wizard peered down at her, his look unreadable.

“Ms. Miller,” he greeted. She nodded. “Are you lost?” Sara was not sure but she was not about to tell him if she were.

“No, I can manage on my own,” she replied, making to move past him. He stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “Did you need something?”

“I do not fully believe you, Ms. Miller,” he said, caressing his staff. “I am not convinced you truly know the future. I believe it a scheme hatched to deceive the dwarves into allowing you to accompany them and thus claim a portion of their gold.”

She glared up at him. “The dwarves are not aware I know the future. Gandalf decided they didn't need to know.”

“Then why would they bring a woman along? Did they simply wish for companionship in the night? The services of a female?”

“Yes,” she said sarcastically, folding her arms. “That’s definitely it. After all, Gandalf only had to threaten to abandon the quest if they didn’t bring me along. Clearly, you know nothing of dwarves. Now if you will excuse me.”

She tried to get around him but he blocked her path once again.

“Is there something you wanted other than to insult me over and over?”

“Convince me you speak the truth. Tell me what you know of the future and I will see to it that your company leaves Rivendell.”

“I don't have to convince you of anything,” she said, trying to dart around him. His hand shot out gripping her upper arm with surprising strength. She glared up at him.

“Tell me. Aule sent you so he must have intended you to tell me of the future. I seek only to protect Middle Earth as he charged me. Tell me and I shall use the power he gave me to send you back to your home.”

He could send her back? Her mind spun into action. She could go home and all it required was telling Saruman the future, telling him about the fellowship of the ring, Frodo and Bilbo… …Bilbo. She would have to reveal that Bilbo would come into possession of the ring. He would be in danger. Who knew what Saruman would do with the information, but it was certainly not good for anyone to know the whereabouts of the ring until the Fellowship. Even Gandalf would not be aware of the rings properties until 50 years from now. No. She would not tell him. He was most likely liying anyway. If she really had been sent by the Valar they would keep her here until they were satisfied.

“No. I’m not telling anyone,” she repeated. His grip tightened to a painful constriction.

“Why? Why will you not tell me?”

“I don't trust you,” she said simply. His eyes bored into hers. “Lady Galadriel was right to suggest Gandalf should be the head of the council and not you.” She must have hit a nerve for his face twisted in anger.

“You speak of things you cannot possibly comprehend,” he hissed. “You don’t understand? You are a mere mortal, doomed to die. Tell me of the future! I must know.”

He shook her and she gasped in pain as his long fingernails cut into the soft flesh of her arm. What she wouldn't give to break his fingers, but with his magic, it was hardly a fair fight. Heavy footsteps approached in the distance.

“For someone who is supposed to protect you seem pretty bent on breaking my arm.”

“Tell me!”

“I won't,” she spat, trying to wrench her arm free, but trying to twist out of his grip only made his nails cut deeper. “Let go of me!”

“Ms. Sara!” thundered a deep and familiar voice from behind the wizard.

Thorin stood on the path just outside the villa, his arms crossed. He scowled as he took in the scene before him.

“Release her!” Reluctantly Saruman let go of her and straightened, a placid look sliding onto his old face.

“Come, Ms. Sara,” called Thorin glowering at the white wizard. “It is late, I will show you back to your room.”

“Until we meet again Ms. Miller,” said the wizard, his dark eyes flashing.

“Which is hopefully never.”

She stepped around the wizard and walked to Thorin but he jerked his head for her to continue past him. She looked back at Saruman once more before moving into the dark hall of the villa. Thorin called something to the wizard in Dwarvish before turning to follow. After a few moments, Thorin drew level with her, catching her elbow gently as he led her forward. They walked in silence for a while, Sara keenly aware of his hand on her arm before he stopped and drew her into a dark alcove. He looked up and down the hall and seeing no one turned to her.

“Are you well Ms. Sara?” he asked in a whisper.

“I'll be okay.” She rubbed at the pain in her arm and her hand came away wet. Her palm was slick with her blood.

“Did he do this?” asked Thorin, taking her arm into his hands gently. Small rivulets of blood trickled from where the wizard's nails had dug into her soft flesh. She nodded. Frowning deeply, he drew a cloth from his pocket and tied it snugly around her bicep.

“I do not like or trust that wizard,” rumbled Thorin.

“That maked two of us. What did you say to him?” Thorin smirked.

“I called him a name befitting his actions.”

“Which is?”

“I would not care to repeat it.” He studied her face. “Are you certain you are well?” His large thumb rubbed mindlessly over her makeshift bandage.

“I will be fine,” she assured. “I’m just relieved you showed up. I was not sure about my odds against a wizard. Thank you. Why are you awake anyway?” He glanced down the hallway again, still holding her arm.

“I was not merely awake,” he said, looking down into her face now. “I was looking for you.”

“How did you know where to find me?” He pulled his hand away folding his arms over his chest.

“I've had Nori keeping a watch on you all evening. He saw you follow Lady Galadriel to that pavilion and informed me when you left.” He turned and drew his furred coat from behind a set of heavy floor-length curtains behind them.

“Why were you looking for me?” she asked, watching him shrug into the coat.

“We are leaving,” he said simply. “Tonight.”

“Good idea. I don’t think that council went as well as Gandalf hoped.”

“The elves?”

“No, Saruman.” He nodded, his face darkening before he looked at her again.

“If you do not wish to depart in a dress I suggest you change and quickly before someone catches us.”

“Change?” she spluttered. “But where and into what?”

“Behind the curtain and into your own clothes I would presume,” he replied, drawing the curtains aside to reveal her pack and coat on the floor. She looked back at him a bit uncertainly. He seemed to read her thoughts. “You need not fear me. I will be watching the hallway. Quickly now.”

He turned his back to her and she slipped behind the curtain. She prayed no one was outside the window looking in as she pulled the dress off over her head. She tucked her phone into her pack. Luckily the window was set into a curve giving her a small space to move around in. Quickly she found her dark blue jeans and plain black shirt. She sat on the padded window seat as she put on her shoes and socks. Moments later she emerged and tapped Thorin’s shoulder. He glanced back at her.

“Much better. Are you ready?”

“Just gotta grab my bag.”

All at once, Thorin dragged her bodily behind the curtain. He backed into the small space, the window seat catching him in the back of the knees forcing him to sit. Sara opened her mouth to protest but he drew her down onto his lap, clamping a hand over her mouth. He held her tightly and Sara sat still, staring over at him. He raised a finger to his mouth signaling quiet. At first, she could hear nothing but gradually the sound of footsteps reached her ears. They were quick and light. Thorin became rigid, holding his breath as another set of footsteps approached. The second set came from the opposite direction. The lighter pair of footsteps quickened and neared them rapidly. Thorin drew her back further against him, away from the curtain. The footsteps were right on top of them. The curtain was yanked aside and a small face peered up at them, shocked eyes wide.

Estel. It was little Estel out wandering the halls again. There was a hunk of bread in his hands and several pastries stuffed in his pockets. Estel looked over his shoulder in panic. Faster it seemed than Sara could blink Thorin had shifted her over onto the seat beside him and pulled the boy to him, clapping a hand over his mouth. The bread fell from the boy’s hand to the floor as Estel looked up at Thoin in shock. Thorin gave a small reassuring smile and the boy seemed to relax. The footsteps approached and then passed by their alcove. When all was quiet again Thorin released Estel.

“You should be in bed little one,” whispered Thorin softly.

“I know,” said Estel, hanging his head a bit but making no effort to move from the dwarf’s lap. He looked up at them puzzled. “Why are you two hiding back here?” Sara glanced at Thorin, but Estel spotted Sara’s pack on the floor. “You're leaving aren't you?”

“We are,” said Thorin. Estel hung his head.

“Do you have to go?” he asked feebly.

“We must.”

“I will miss you,” confessed Estel. Sara pulled him into her arms, hugging him briefly before placing a small kiss atop his head. She held him at arm's length.

“We will miss you too,” she said, ruffling his hair. Thorin pulled one of the small braids from behind his ear and slipped the bead off the end. He took the boy's hand and folded his fingers around the silver bobble. Taking Estel by the shoulders he looked him in the eye.

“Stay safe young Estel. Perhaps someday we will meet again.” The boy launched himself into Thorin's arms and squeezed him tightly around the neck. Thorin looked at Sara, his eyes wide. She shrugged. Gradually Thorin’s hand fell to the boy's head but then he froze listening. Once again drawing both Sara and the boy close to him he gestured for silence, and the three of them hid listening intently as familiar voices approached.

“I tell your brother he is out of bed again,” came Elrohir’s voice.

“Indeed, but he is not in the kitchen,” said Elladan. “Though they do show signs of having been pilfered there is far too much food missing for Estel to have carried it off on his own.” Sara looked at Thorin with suspicion. He shrugged, raising an eyebrow. The elves were very close now.

“Something is afoot, and I for one won't rest until I find out what it is,” said Elrohir. Thorin tensed as the footsteps stopped outside their alcove.

“Where would you suggest we begin?” asked Elladan. Sara’s stomach gave a most unfortunate gurgle.

“Did you hear that?” asked Elrohir, stepping closer.

“I believe little Estell is behind that curtain.” Before the elves could pull back the curtain Estel looked to Sara and Thorin one last time, a smile on his face, and slipped around the edge of the curtain and into view.

“Hello, brothers.”

“Estel,” chided Elladan. “You should be in bed.”

“I was hungry.”

“You are always hungry,” said Elrohir affectionately. “Come let us get you back before your mother finds out.”

“Wait brother,” said Elladan. “You have forgotten your bread.” Sara looked down to see the hunk bread half out of the curtain near her foot. Slowly, quietly, Thorin drew her closer, pressing her tightly to him, forcing her to stand on his feet as he held her away from the curtain. A hand fished for the bread as they held their breath.

“Here you are,” said Elladan. “Now quickly, to bed with you.”

They listened as the three disappeared. Sara let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing but Thorin remained still. He was looking down at her, an odd expression passing over his face. He swallowed thickly making his adam’s apple bob. The scene from the mirror came to her mind and she looked away, her cheeks burning. His arms tightened almost imperceptibly around her waist and when she looked back up he was still gazing at her fixedly.

“Mr. Thorin?”

“Just Thorin,” he said breathily, his normally crisp blue eyes dark in the low light. His fingers grabbed slightly at the small of her back.

“Shouldn't… shouldn’t we go?”

The tension in the air popped like a soap bubble and he let her go hastily. She took a step back looking at the floor. He cleared his throat and went to check the hallway once again. Grabbing her pack she slug it over her shoulder and followed Thorin out into the hallway.

“Let’s find the others,” he said, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. With this, he turned and led the way forward. Quietly she followed him through Elrond’s dark halls and out into the night air.