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Chapter Text

Prologue

July TA 2940

“ There is a word in my language, in yeon, fate. If two strangers even walk by each other and their clothes accidentally brush, it means there must have been something between them in their past lives. Think of it as a red string, tying two people together. Meant to twist and tangle, but never break.”

His eyes flickered to where their knees touch, expression melting into something gentle, almost fond. 

“ Is there a tale behind it?” 

His voice was low, a quiet whisper. Maybe he didn’t want to wake the cacophony of soft snores behind them, but it felt more like they were sharing a secret. Something intimate, a stolen moment amidst the chaos that’s been nipping at their feet.

“Of course.” She smiled, caught in the snare of his gaze. 

“The story of the red string started when a man tried to outrun fate. When he was only a boy, he met an old woman tying a pair of red strings together, claiming to be a matchmaker. Little did he know she was a deity in disguise, and when asked who he would marry, she told him it was a girl living far beyond the mountain.”

A low crackle spread through the kindling fire as the wind picked up. Before she could reach for her scarf, a weight had pressed itself down on her shoulders.

He had taken off his coat, draping it over her wordlessly. She ducked her head away to hide the heat spreading across her face, thankful that she could always blame the cold.

“Curious, he journeyed to see her. But when he found her, he didn’t like what he saw, and in his foolishness and anger decided to throw a stone at the girl before running off.”

He raised a brow at this, but there was still more to the story, so she wrapped the coat tighter around herself and scooted closer to him. “Years passed. He grew up, met someone, and married her. On their wedding night, he asked why she always covered her forehead with red paint. She told him it was to hide a scar, one she got as a child when some boy threw a stone at her.”

The grass by their feet swayed gently with the breeze, almost hypnotic under the silver light of the moon. If she listened closely, she could hear the soft breathing of the forest behind them, along with the thrumming of her heartbeat, threatening to race from the way he was looking at her.

“And just like that, he knew. She was the girl from the mountain, the one the old woman had tied him to all those years ago.” 

“And you believe this tale?” He asked.

She shrugged. “ They were just bedtime stories to me.”

“And now?”

Her eyes roamed over his face, so familiar to what she'd lost yet so different. High cheekbones and a strong jawline, she missed running her hands over them, through his hair, and down his neck, where she'd pull him close and — she caught herself. She'd been thinking of someone else, someone far away from her. The man before her was not who she thought he was, and she needed to find her way home.

But maybe, a small part of her mind whispered, she was where she needed to be, and that in yeon had made her climb mountains and cross rivers to be here, in this strange, ancient world where dragons and wizards walk the earth, to be with him. 

“I believe in agency, in our ability to choose our destiny, our stories.” She explained. “But I also think everything is pre-determined, chemical, physical, and everything is in a way, inevitable.”

Their hands were lying side by side atop the wooden stump, and she moved her pinky, tentatively, carefully across the small space between them. He looked down with an emotion she couldn’t yet pinpoint, sliding his hand across her palm. She felt like breaking under his touch, trembling like a leaf, and he appeared to notice this, cradling her fingers with a tenderness that seemed almost impossible coming from him.

“ That this — ” She swallowed, “ is inevitable.”

He looked like he had been waiting for permission, and she had given it to him, his thumb drawing soft circles atop her hand. That night, something new was forged between them, not yet fierce but waking, like dawn breaking in the distance.

Chapter Text

December, 2015

Molecules seemed to condense as Jin Ae walked deeper into the forest. According to her watch, it’s only been half an hour since she left. Yet she could feel her breathing turning shallow already, dampness clinging onto her like a second skin. 

It was getting hot and stuffy, she thought to herself. Rainfall is coming.

Picking up her pace, Jin Ae continued to trek uphill. The path wound upward in slow, deliberate curves, carved gently into the hillside. Flanked by towering pines and dense undergrowth, moss crept along the edges of ancient steps. The deeper she walked, the quieter the forest became. As though the woods themselves were holding their breath. At the top, stood the temple waiting in quiet dignity among the trees. Its tiled roof bowed with age, its wooden pillars darkened by time.

Quickly, she knelt over the altar, unzipping her bag to set up offerings of candles, flowers, rice, tea, and fruit. Awkwardly, Jin Ae lit the incense and folded her hands. Her father’s instructions had been simple — “A prayer is a wish from the heart. And maybe, just maybe, a kind-hearted deity will take pity on you.”

Yet Jin Ae, who has never wished for anything in her life, wondered if the forest might be so kind as to grant her a miracle. If they would still listen, even after she asked for the impossible.

So before the incense had burned itself to the hilt, Jin Ae was already gone. 

Here, in the stillness of morning, as the first light of dawn began to break through the trees, she cast the offering one last glance. Then she turned on her heel and left, mindful of the slow roll of thunder gathering above the mountains, and the wind that had suddenly picked up its pace around her.

December TA 2939

The weather forecast said it wouldn’t rain until the evening, yet Jin Ae found herself trapped under a storm. The sudden deluge was making it hard for her to see anything, and she was glad she was already by the foot of the mountain, otherwise the rocks would’ve been too slippery for her, and she would’ve been stuck. A strong gust of wind deterred her from reaching for an umbrella, and Jin Ae debated if it was safe to take shelter under one of these trees, or if they pose a greater risk in falling on her.

In the midst of her panic, she had almost missed the cave standing two feet away from her. She initially mistook it for a boulder, rainfall blurring her vision. But when she realised it had an entrance, Jin Ae didn’t have the time to ask herself whether it had been there the whole time, surged forward by a flash of lightning. By the time thunder roared, she was already inside. 

Whipping out her flashlight, she saw that the space didn’t go any deeper than a few feet, its mouth half-hidden by roots and brush. While the cave was perfect to wait until the rain stopped, Jin Ae hoped it didn’t belong to any animal. The last thing she wanted was to wander into the home of an angry fox.

She glanced at her watch. Shit, she thought. I thought this was supposed to be waterproof. None of the hands were moving, even after she had given it a little shake. Putting it into her pocket to minimise the damage, she settled with pulling out her phone. Thankfully she had half the mind to keep it tucked away, battery still on ninety percent. But Jin Ae wasn’t surprised to see there wasn’t any signal, left to stare at her lockscreen as the rain droned on.

A lump rose in her throat. She wondered why she hadn’t bothered to change the picture. 

It had been their one-year anniversary when he took her hiking. He’d always loved the mountains. He said he felt connected to them somehow. They’d taken a selfie at the peak, cheeks pressed close, the sunset glowing behind them. It was all very romantic. 

And now, unbearable to look at.

Memories stirred at the edges, ready to crawl out of the shadows. Jin Ae fought the sudden urge to throw the device against the wall, running a hand down her tousled hair instead. 

She contemplated her prayer and the pair of blue eyes she missed more than anything. 

Jin Ae didn’t know why she had let herself hope.

She opened her eyes to the sound of someone shouting. Somewhere waiting for the rain to stop she had fallen asleep, and when she glanced at her phone and saw that time hadn't moved since she arrived, Jin Ae wondered if she was dreaming. But the voices in the distance continued, coming from behind the thin veil of mist that had started to rise from the forest floor. 

Jin Ae took several seconds to compose herself, trying to make sense of the commotion from a safe distance. The only thing she could think of was the wetness that clung onto her raincoat and the steep rim trails, how easily it would be for a hiker to slip off the crag, once mud had gotten all over the rocky surface. That was enough to send her sprinting.

Yet when she arrived at the source of the noises, what she saw before her wasn’t an injured hiker. Quickly crouching behind a tree, she peeked down into the clearing.

Three men gathered around a struggling body, and the attacker in the middle had his knee firmly planted against the shorter man’s back. She could only guess they were robbing him, judging from how the other two men had started to rummage through his things. Jin Ae knew time was of the essence, yet a bewildered part of her couldn’t help but stare at their clothes, their swords. It all felt so medieval, fake in the way that she had stumbled upon either a movie set or a really intense LARP session. 

She dug her fingers roughly into her palm to wake herself, but the wood of the tree she was holding was rough under her touch. The air was cold and clean as she breathed in. This was too real, just like the danger ahead, considering that one of the assaulters had his blade drawn to the underside of the victim’s neck. 

And that knife did not look like a prop.

Jin Ae scrambled to look for something — anything, to throw. She saw a collection of rocks at the foot of the hillock she was currently on, and swiftly without a sound, she snatched the biggest, roughest looking one. 

Feeling the weight of the stone in her hand, she raised it tentatively, and by the time her target had noticed her, she had already sent the rock flying, down to the crown of his head. While her aim was poor and barely gave him a scratch, it created the diversion she wanted. In an instant, the pinned man had lifted himself with one arm to allow the other to pull the concealed blade from his chest — one Jin Ae had noticed peeking out from underneath his clothes. With a swift movement, he had tossed his attacker onto the floor.

While the man to his left jumped to defend his friend, the one on the right had locked eyes with Jin Ae. 

Shit.

She barely had time to turn on her heel before a pair of hands seized her. A scream tore from her throat as she thrashed, her attacker flipping her onto her back. He said something, words lost beneath the roar of blood in her ears.

Her fingers fought past the weight that pinned her down, reaching for her waist. With a desperate yank, she drove the taser into his stomach. The reaction was instant. The jolt sent him spasming, and once he was limp, she roughly shoved him to the side, where he rolled back down into the clearing. There was the thud of his body and the screech of a sword being drawn, and Jin Ae squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of flesh being cut. 

Silence hung in the air.

Scrambling on her feet, Jin Ae slowly crept towards the edge, peeking down.

All three bodies were sprawled across the ground, unmoving, as the aggrieved slowly lifted himself up to his feet. When he turned around to finally reveal himself, a sharp, painful sting coiled in her heart. 

A familiar face stared back at her. 

“Michael?” She whispered, voice trembling. 

The man only squinted his eyes at her in confusion, before slumping forward on his knees. Jin Ae had just barely made it down the slope when he fell forward, straight into her arms.

Jin Ae had been washing her hands using the trickling rainwater when he began to stir. He hissed quietly, once, under his breath. But the cave was hollow and the night was quiet, so she turned around to check on her patient, only to be greeted by a knife pointed in her direction. 

A pair of blue eyes narrowed itself at her, and the resemblance was so uncanny that it made her feel sick. 

“Who are you?”

She recognised that voice. But the man before her sounded rougher, angrier. And he certainly did not recognise her. At least he spoke English, that was a good start. 

“Answer the question,” He commanded. 

“Jin Ae. That’s my name.”

“What business do you have in these woods ?”

She didn’t want to pause too long and seemed unsure. “I was leaving when I heard you shouting.” 

She glanced at his torso and he followed her line of sight, jaw clenched as he assessed the damage. Then he scanned his surroundings, and a flicker of relief passed his face when he saw his things close by. His sword, bow and pack perched up by the cave wall. 

But he still hadn’t lowered his knife.

When he was unconscious, Jin Ae had gone through his things, hoping to find a clue to where she was. There was no phone. No charger. No ID. No brand labels. Just rough-woven cloth, a flint striker, a small bundle of dried herbs wrapped in parchment, and a waterskin that looked hand-stitched, amongst other things she couldn’t name. And then there was the issue of him looking exactly like a carbon copy of someone she was trying really hard to forget. The long, dark hair and blue leather armour were new, and the man before was shorter. Much shorter. But his eyes — she would recognise them anywhere.

Afterwards, she had her little moment, throwing up in the bushes outside as the heartburn kicked in, throat clamping up at the realisation that she wouldn’t be waking up any time soon. But Jin Ae knew panicking would only make things worse. So she put her hair up in a ponytail, pulled up the sleeves of her jacket, and did her best to stop the bleeding.

She wasn’t sure if she could even trust him. Ignoring the fact that he was attacked, the man had killed three people. Stabbed them with a sword. The only thing Jin Ae was sure of was that she needed to be smart and choose her next words carefully.

“ What’s your name?” She asked.

There was a pause where she could hear him thinking.

“Dwalin.”

“And what business do you have here, Dwalin?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Okay.” She stepped closer, “Don’t you think if I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it before I stitched you up?” 

He eyed her muddied boots and clothes, noticing the tracks in the dirt leading up to where he was sitting with his back against the wall. You’re welcome. Jin Ae thought. Had to make two trips to move everything — three, including you. 

“Why did you help me?”

Jin Ae blinked.

The fire crackled weakly behind her, and she took the silence as a refusal to repeat himself.

“Because — because you were hurt. And it was the right thing to do.”

He continued to glower at her. But finally, he lowered the knife. Jin Ae went to grab a new roll of bandages, and at least he was smart enough not to resist when she reached out to fix the binding. He stiffened at the sudden skin-to-skin contact, and she was glad he didn’t question how he got out of his shirt, the dark blue tunic drying by the fire along with his coat.

“How bad are the wounds?” 

“ It’s quite deep. But nothing fatal. You’ll live.” 

Fortunately, the knife hadn’t hit anything vital. And she was glad she’d been bullied into spending that one weekend off taking a survival course with the Wilderness Medical Society. Otherwise, her kit wouldn’t have sutures, sterile gauze, and a tourniquet — among other useful things. It had been sitting in her hiking bag, collecting dust, until the day she decided to visit the temple. She wasn’t sure if it was foresight or just plain luck.

Had the knife gone any further, the zip sutures and bandages wouldn’t have been enough. While she had what was needed to close those wounds, Jin Ae found it strange that the needle wouldn’t pierce his skin properly. It kept catching, sliding, like the flesh was too dense, too tough. She could feel the muscle beneath her fingers, but they felt different. Unnatural. She wondered just how hard the attacker had driven the blade.

“But I’m guessing you haven’t been resting much. You didn’t lose consciousness from blood loss. You were exhausted and dehydrated. I checked your hands.” 

Jin Ae felt the need to add the last part from the way he shot her a skeptical look. She passed him her thermos, gesturing for him to drink. Once he stopped looking at the container as if it had personally offended him, he started curiously feeling the weight of it in his hand. The fire casted a gentle, orange glow on them, and she realised under the light she must look very out of place to him — clad in her deep blue windbreaker and hiking trousers.

“From which parts do you hail?” He asked.

“That’s none of your concern.” She parroted, busying herself by tidying her kit.

He shot her an angry look and Jin Ae was trying to figure out if his suspicion ran deeper. If maybe the forest had anything to do with it. The minute the sun went down, the entire area plunged into deep darkness, and Jin Ae was starting to regret having lit a fire, afraid of attracting whatever lurked out there. 

“I was just doing my job.” 

She hoped changing the subject would stall any further questions he had for her.

“Then name your price, healer.”

His uneasiness was hard to miss, his right hand still a few inches away from the hilt of his knife. And when he heard the soft neigh coming from outside the cave, the man straightened, as if ready to leave that very second — even though he was shirtless and bleeding. When she returned for his things, the skittish pony had been anxiously waiting behind a grove of trees, and it only calmed when it got a whiff of its owner’s scent in her hands. Now it’s curled by the stump of a tree, no doubt exhausted from what Jin Ae could only assume to be days worth of riding. 

It was then that the idea came.

“Take me to the nearest town.” 

Emboldened, she pressed on before he could cut her off. “That’s my payment. I’m low on supplies and I can’t reach the nearest town on foot.”

He studied her for a moment, then his eyes widened, just for a fraction. “You don’t even know where we are.”

“No,” Jin Ae sighed. “ I only know these parts aren’t safe. Once we reach town, we can part ways. And you can consider yourself even.”

" What were you doing in these woods?” He asked, in a tone that suggested he didn't want to repeat himself. " You take me for a fool if you think I'd let a stranger roaming the Dunlands travel in my company."

"You'd be even more stupid to think that you can walk out of these woods alive with that cut on your stomach." She crossed her arms. " Most of the damage has been contained. But the knife that...thief used was dirty. Soon enough, it's going to get infected. I'm guessing you don't have the supplies to prevent that." 

It was the smartest choice. He seemed to consider it, although obviously unhappy with the arrangement. 

Outside, the forest stood eerily still, shrouded in a darkness that not even the moonlight pierced. Only thanks to the glow of the fire did Jin Ae notice the white strands of hair sticking out of his forehead. She thought of the man she knew and wondered if he had ever acted this cold. And if something had hardened this version of him and made him this way.

“Swanmere is a two week’s ride from here. If we hurry, we could reach it in less than that.”

She tried not to balk at the distance. “When are we leaving?” 

He studied her hands, and Jin Ae hoped he didn’t notice how they hadn’t stopped trembling from the moment they started talking.

It had been a long day, and the adrenaline was beginning to fade into a heavy ache in her muscles. It was growing harder for Jin Ae to hide the fact that she was terrified, and she didn't want to cry in front of the man who just pointed his knife at her. So when he straightened his back and looked her in the eyes, gaze briefly flickering to the small, red cut on her cheek, she didn’t bother hiding her sigh of relief at his answer.

“ We leave before daybreak.”

Believing they weren’t far enough from danger yet, they had spent the entire first day racing out of the woods, down the dwindling hills and through the shadows that hovered over them. She had pressed herself against the back of his wolf pelt, knuckles turning white from how tightly she was clinging to him. He was even determined to carry on through the night, trying to create as much distance between them and where they were attacked. But Jin Ae reasoned the risk of attracting other dangers, such as hungry, nocturnal animals, was an equal threat. She wasn’t sure of what lived in the forest, but she wasn’t interested in finding out.

He didn’t like the idea of being challenged. Much more by a stranger. But she knew even he wasn’t stupid enough to think they could outrun a pack of hungry predators on horseback with cargo hanging off the back. And so he had agreed to camp for the night, so long as they forgo a fire. 

Slowly lowering herself off the pony, Jin Ae tried to undo the clasps that held their bags, only to be met with a firm hand on her arm. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

She scoffed at his accusatory tone. “ I was just getting the bags. I’m trying to help.” 

“So you can rummage through my belongings a second time?” he snapped, eyes narrowing.

Her cheeks flushed. She opened her mouth to retaliate but nothing came out. 

They were both tense, senses on high alert as the last light of sundown began to fade in the distance. Now, without the protection of the cave, they were both equally exposed to the wild. And judging from how his eyes darted towards her whenever she pulled something out of her pack, he wasn’t going to trust her to watch his back anytime soon. 

Sunset had finally drained out of the sky overhead, sheathing the woods in darkness. She quickly ate the protein bar she had stashed in her bag before heading towards a nearby tree to tuck her knees under her, not bothering to unfurl her sleeping bag. Her stomach grumbled in protest, but she screwed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the cold, dewy leaves grazing her socks. 

She felt miserable, unable to drift to sleep in the presence of a man who was now armed and very much capable of overpowering her. Jin Ae focused on the taser resting between her stomach and the band of her pants. The firm grip of his fingers ghosting above her upper arm until sunrise.

When she woke with a start, dawn was just breaking, drowning the forest in dark blue light. He was already awake, standing by the pony with his map in one hand and a compass in another. Jin Ae was about to stand when the tip of her shoes bumped itself into something.

She picked up the parchment paper, carefully unwrapping it. The piece of meat jerky was cold, most likely there the whole night. But her stomach immediately reacted, and she was thankful that she never was a picky eater. Once she was done, she washed her hands with water from her thermos before passing the paper back to him wordlessly — folded, as neatly as she could. 

He mentioned nothing about what had happened last night, offering a handout for her to take. So she took it and helped herself onto the pony. And off they went, deeper into the winding cluster of trees.

The rain persisted for the next few days, slowing down their journey, much to her travel companion’s frustration. In the early mornings, thick, impenetrable mist would force them to mount off the pony and navigate the path by foot. And in the evenings, the rain would bring with it floods that would erase the path and set them off course. Jin Ae was too much of a sceptic to believe that the forest was doing it on purpose. But ever since she came to this world, nothing had felt normal. At times, the hair behind her neck would stand in attention, as if the forest was alive and watchful, scrutinising their every step.

“Something is wrong with this place.” Jin Ae had been warily observing the trees, trying to listen to the sound of the forest. But there were no insects buzzing or leaves rustling, just an eerie stillness that felt like death, hanging in the air. 

“How astute of you.”

Frowning at his sarcasm, Jin Ae wrapped her thermal blanket tighter around herself. She watched as the man before her skinned the game he had caught, cutting the delicate meat with precision. He wasn’t too happy to discover that Jin Ae was practically useless in everything outside of medicine, and she was placed under more scrutiny for her inability to hunt, forage or read tracks on the mud.

“Word has it that an ancient evil had left its mark here, stirring people clear of these parts. Even the Wildmen do not venture this far.”

Jin Ae didn’t want to miss out on the rare moments where he spoke, glancing at his blood stained fingers.

“What about the men that attacked you?”

His face hardened.“ Raiders. Thieves don’t care for superstition. These parts may look empty, but we must stay on our guard.”

Jin Ae thought about how, in the event of another attack, she wouldn’t know how to defend herself from men armed with knives, swords and other sharp things. And she wasn't sure just how much she could rely on the man across from her. Judging from how he had looked at her when she emerged from the cave empty-handed, wielding no bow, no sword — not even a knife, she wouldn’t be surprised to open her eyes one of these days and see him gone.

But it’s been almost a week since they left that cave, and whenever she was startled awake in the middle of the night, either from a dream or the rush of panic when she suddenly remembered where she was, he was always there. Either leaning back against a tree with his pipe or sitting atop of his sleeping back. Watchful eyes scanning the area. And yesterday she noticed that he looked younger with his eyes closed. Less angry. But she stopped staring when she discovered just how lightly he slept, and he didn’t appreciate opening his eyes to Jin Ae watching him instead of their surroundings.

The pungent smell of meat burning pulled her out of her thoughts. He had begun to skewer the little pieces onto a stick, grilling them by the fire. 

“You mentioned the Wildmen. Who are they?”

“Tribal folk. They raid what they cannot build, burn what they cannot hold. They cannot be trusted.” His voice was stern. “But they know the hills and the woods better than most, which is why they’re smart enough not to come to this side of the mountains.”

“But have they always lived that way?” 

“No.” As he passed Jin Ae her share of dinner, the timbre in his voice had shifted to something sadder, “ They were driven out of their homes.”

She regarded him carefully. “You must be far from yours.”

Her words seemed to have struck something within him, and he faltered. Just for a second. Before looking straight at her. “Not as far as you are.”

“No,” she frowned. “That, we can agree on.”

They had made camp near a running stream which, according to him, flowed down along the North-South Road and fed into the Greyflood. They were getting close to where they needed to be. As usual, they had given each other space to wash, one of the many unspoken rules they'd settled into after days of travelling together. With both their hair wet, this close, Jin Ae could smell the subtle scent of pinewood wafting off him, a heady mix of the soap he’d used and something unmistakably his own.

He watched in silence as Jin Ae worked to redress his wounds. It had been a week and a half, and while the zip sutures were designed to last longer, she figured it was best to clean the wound, especially after all the rain and mud they had to trek through. She was bewildered he had made it this long without asking her about the sutures, about its plastic straps and adhesive material. Then again, if he was curious about her clothes, shoes, and supplies, he kept those thoughts to himself. Always observing but never saying anything. Once, he looked very close to asking about her lighter, almost impressed as he watched her start a fire with barely any effort.

She peeled the suture back as fast as she could, and he hissed when it caught on his hair. Jin Ae felt she deserved the sulk he gave her this time. As she reached for the alcohol bottle, she noticed that the firelight made his eyes look lighter, like the sea during sunrise. 

“This part is going to hurt.” She warned.

“Do what you must.” He said, sitting up higher. And when he jerked forward, no doubt from the sting of the alcohol, Jin Ae had placed a firm hand on his shoulder out of instinct. The movement of guiding patients back onto the bed, nothing short of muscle memory to her.

“I am fine, woman.” He gritted, shrugging off her hand. “ I will not have you fuss over me.”

“Well that’s technically my job.” She replied dryly, tossing the dirty suture into a small hole she had dug on the ground. “The sutures won’t last this time. I need to stitch you up.”

“Why haven’t you?”

If they weren’t stranded and relying on one another, she would have slapped the man for barking questions at her like orders. “When I tried to stitch your wounds, my needle wouldn’t pierce your skin.”

He quirked an eyebrow, almost sounding proud. “I would think not. But this will.” 

He reached with his left hand to grab hold of his pack, before fishing out a sewing needle. It was small and thin, almost invisible between his blocky fingers.

“What is it made of?”

He gestured for her to take it, refusing to answer. So Jin Ae began to prepare for surgery, grabbing several tissues to lay them on the ground. She washed her hands twice with the river water she had collected in her thermos and sterilised the needle by pinching it between the tweezers from her makeup bag, gingerly holding it out to the flames. The thread took a few minutes to boil, and during this time, she took an ibuprofen and held it out to him.

“ This is a painkiller —”

“I have no need for them.”

“But you will regret not having taken them before.”

They stared at one another, the silence thick between them. Her hand remained outstretched, and he met her gaze with a stubbornness that refused to budge, jaw set like stone.

After a while, she huffed quietly, fingers curling back around the pill. 

“Suit yourself,” she muttered, tucking it away with more force than necessary.

Headstrong, she thought, pressing the needle to his skin and feeling him tense underneath. Just like he was. 

She worked carefully, stitching along the wound with one continuous thread in a steady running suture. Surprisingly, he remained still, only closing his eyes and grunting when she tied the knot at the base. Kneeling beside him, she caught sight of the scars scattered across his body, from the one above his shoulder to another on the other side of his chest. 

A pang of guilt hit her square in the chest. 

Back home, she had made them disappear. She had wielded great big machines under her hands and worked them precisely over the wounds herself until they were nothing more than fading lines. They would send him back to her, bent and broken, bleeding in her arms. And each time, Jin Ae had patiently stitched him back together, over and over again. 

Her hands trembled at the unbidden memory. With a breath, she shook herself back to the present, quickly cutting the thread. His blood, red and shining against her palm.

She had been thinking of someone else.

“It’s done.”

She turned to gather her things before marching down the stream to clean them, and her hands still shook even after she had washed them clean.

He glanced down at the stitches, lifting the edge of his tunic and craning his neck to get a better look. His expression didn’t shift much, but there was a flicker of something. Quiet approval, maybe even gratitude.

“Fine work, healer.”

“Thank you.” She sat herself across from him, not yet quite ready to settle in for the night. The trees continued to loom above them, yet the foliage had begun to thin. And between the gaps of the branches, Jin Ae could see the sky littering with stars.

“Where did you hone your skills?”

Caught off guard by the sudden interest in conversation, Jin Ae thought of her answer carefully. “I was formally enrolled in a school where I studied to become a doctor— a physician. But I specialise in treating patients with serious injuries."

“And why is a physician of such skill wandering the wild of Dunlands?”

She skimmed over his praise, knowing his aim was never set on flattery and rather, interrogation. The night was late, and Jin Ae was exhausted. She saw no reason in concealing the obvious. “I’m lost. That’s the truth. I don’t know how I ended up here. But I come from somewhere…far away.”

She appreciated how he didn’t press on further. “Why are you here?”

His fingers twitched at his side, then stilled. As if he was weighing something in silence. “I was looking for someone. I received word that he was last seen wandering these parts. Yet it must have been nothing but a ruse, used to draw me out.”

“You think those thieves were there on purpose?”

“Mercenaries.” He corrected. “But aye, I believe they were sent.”

“Why? Are you someone important?”

His face grew serious, “Does it make a difference to you?”

“No. I just want to go home.”

At her words, his eyes softened in quiet understanding. “We are getting closer to Swanmere. We should be there the day after tomorrow. ”

At his words, uncertainty stirred in the pit of her stomach like a waking serpent. There was no promise of an answer in the city they were heading to. And she felt almost upset at the idea of them parting soon. As much as she hated to admit it, Jin Ae trusted him more than a city she’d never heard of.

He started putting his tunic back on, this time it was a simple black shirt, the collar subtly embroidered with angular, interlocking patterns woven by silver thread. Jin Ae suddenly felt the need to ask him one last question.

“You had that needle and thread with you this whole time. And the herbs in your bag.” She met his gaze, not caring about her confession. “They were disinfectants. You knew how to take care of your wounds. Why did you still agree to take me with you?”

His gaze dropped for a moment, and his expression bent into something softer. Kinder. “Do you think of me with so little honour that I would leave you helpless out there?”

She shook her head. A new kind of warmth bloomed in her chest, and the words left her mouth before she could register them. “Thank you.”

As quickly as it came, the softness in his gaze had vanished, shuttered behind something colder, older. The mask returned, and with it, the distance. 

“Keep your thanks. We still have a journey ahead.”

Chapter Text

January TA 2940

When she pushed herself off the back of his coat, her fingers had grown numb from clutching the fabric all night. They had stopped, and the ache in her hips meant somewhere in the morning she had fallen asleep, hunched across his back. And Jin Ae felt it. Briefly. The ghost of his hand across her left, upper thigh. Steady. Firm. Had it been there the entire time she slept ?

The thought lingered for only a moment, before the cold rushed in where warmth had been. She could tell it was noon, but there was barely any light, and the air had turned sharp, biting at skin and breath. Winter had begun its slow march, covering the land in white. And from atop the hill, she saw in the distance the edges of a town swallowed by snow, half hidden in the marshes that have rotted grey under the frost.

“We’re here.” He announced, tilting his head to look at her. “ I will take you to the border, but go no further than that.”

Something caught in her throat. “And where will you be going?” 

“North.” His eyes skimmed the top of the hills that stood behind the city, somewhere behind the thicket of pine trees that jutted out of the snow like fingers. And when they arrived just a few feet from the border, she saw that there were no guards standing by their posts. Just an empty wooden booth, torn at the edges.

He said nothing as she dismounted off the horse, hiking shoes immediately sinking into the wet snow. She slung her back over her shoulders and zipped her jacket all the way to the top, shielding her face behind the collar and under her hood. 

They shared a quiet look, and Jin Ae was so busy debating on what to say that she almost missed what he said to her.

“This is where we part ways.”

“Yeah.” She nodded lamely. “ Thank you, again. I wish I can repay you somehow.”

“Head to the inn.” He instructed. “You will find more help there than from the master of this town.”

“Okay.” Her teeth were starting to chatter. “I will.”

With that, he nudged the horse hard with his heels, and the creature took the cue and bolted forward into the quiet expanse of unbroken snow.

The settlement was little more than a scattering of homes hunched low against the land as if trying to sink into the marshes. Wattled huts pressed against one another as their roofs sagged. A few wooden stilt-houses stood crooked along the river’s edge, their pillars bowed and blackened by rot. And anything made of stone was barely standing, their mortar laced with creeping vines and mildew.

Jin Ae had been worried about standing out in a crowd but the place was deserted, at least on the outside. She had the inkling people were staring at her from inside their homes, silhouettes dancing by the edge of dusty windows as smoke drifted listlessly from chimneys made of stacked shale. After a few minutes of walking through the ghost town, she heard voices down a winding alley. And it led her to another street, where she could finally see people, peaking out of their homes and shops to watch as small commotion brewing. 

“ If you don’t come now he will die !” A voice shrieked.

“Fie ! Get her out of here !”

“You’re not listening ! His wounds are worsening !”

Jin Ae craned her neck, trying to see past the circle of people. As she moved closer, people flinched away from her. Eyes red and distrustful as they followed her movements.

A man was blocking a girl from entering his shop, he had grabbed both her shoulders and shoved her down the small steps. And when she got up on her feet, Jin Ae didn’t wait until he could bring down his hand on her, stepping in between the two.

“That’s enough!” She yelled, shielding the body behind her. Her voice shook with anger.“What do you think you’re doing?”

The man’s jaw slackened, yellow teeth peeking out from behind his mouth. “ And who might you be? Outsiders have no business here!”

“Step aside.” The girl behind her growled, but Jin Ae continued to shield her, slowly backing her away from the men and the people that were starting to appear from inside the building. They wore a white cloth over their nose, rubber gloves pulled to their elbows. 

Outside, to the right, was a line of people, their pale, wind-chapped skin peeking out of clothes, which hung off them in patched layers of wool and oilskin. Somewhere, a baby was crying, followed by the soft sounds of mothers shushing their coughing children. 

She turned to the child. “ What do you need?”

“He has a wound and - and it’s rotting.” She said hurriedly, tears in her eyes. “He’s sick and these stupid people won’t help him!”

“We don’t want nothing to do with the likes of you!” A voice shouted, and suddenly several more erupted. 

“Let them all die! No good in wasting our medicine on their kind!”

“She’s holding up the line ! Get her out of here !”

Jin Ae placed both hands on the girl’s shoulders, anchoring her, willing her to tear her eyes away from the voices that drowned them. “Take me to him now. I can help.”

“Are you a healer?” The girl asked, voice cracking. 

Jin Ae nodded, and in an instant, shaky little fingers latched themselves onto her hand, leading her away from the crowd and past the row of buildings. They ran towards the edge of the town to the base of the hill, where a brown pony waited. The ride was long, Jin Ae estimated about half an hour, even with the animal galloping at full speed. When they made it to the steeper part of the highland, they had no choice but to dismount, hobbling through the thick pile of snow. Jin Ae almost missed the girl’s voice calling her to hurry under all the wind, the skin of her knuckles stinging as they latched onto the rails of the pony, who was growing restless at the growing storm descending upon them.

Squinting past the whiteout, at the edge of the treeline, where the forest began to thin into the marsh, stood a squat stone house half-sunk into the hillside. The girl was already by the porch, leaving Jin Ae to lead the pony to the single stable by the side of the rickety, old home. 

Inside the air was only a little bit warmer, and her vision hadn’t even adjusted to the low light before she was shoved into a small room, where the stench of puss and blood hit her square in the nose.

“What happened?” She recoiled, kneeling down to fish out her kit. 

“It was an accident.” The girl explained breathlessly, making her way in and out of the room to bring a bowl of water and clean rags. “He wanted to help our adad with the woodwork. But the axe —”

A miserable moan cut through the air. The bearded man before her shivered as rivulets of sweat poured down his forehead, drenching his hair as he clutched the side of the bed in pain. No , Jin Ae corrected herself. This wasn’t a man. Just a frightened boy, she realised, weakly opening his eyes to beckon his sister to come closer.

The girl whispered in a language Jin Ae didn’t understand, patting the top of her brother’s head while she assessed the damage. In a single, breathless instant, she knew exactly what had to be done. Which was why the tremor in her hands returned, and not unnoticed.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” The girl demanded.

“We need to amputate the leg.”

“ What? No ! You can’t —”

“Listen to me, and listen to me well.” Jin Ae held her by the shoulders once more, leveling her voice as best as she could. “ I need you to grab me a knife —”

“No —”

“— the sharpest one you can find. I want you to bring it to me quickly. The infection has gone too deep. The flesh is dying, turning black. If we don’t take the leg, it’ll take his life instead.”

The girl was crying, big, wet tears streaming down her chin as she shook her head. Jin Ae ran a hand through her hair, soothing her. “ You can do this, you’re a brave girl. He will live, but you have to help me.”

The girl gave one last shuddering breath, as if to steady herself, before heading to the kitchen, leaving Jin Ae to start the fire with her lighter by the hearth. She tossed a couple of firewood inside, fanning the flames to make them burn faster. There was the clanging of pots and pans before the girl returned with a cleaver, and Jin Ae held the blade over the fire until it glowed faintly, the metal hissing when she plunged it into a bowl of water in the room. 

This would have to do.

When noises came from the doorway, Jin Ae was already washing her hands with the bowl of clean water by the bedside table, trying to scrub the stubborn flecks of blood with a bar of soap. The migraine that had appeared an hour ago was growing stronger, straining her eyes. Only then did she notice her wet clothes, shoes tracking mud and water onto the floor. That would explain the chill threatening to break out of her skin.

Her patient was softly snoring, having fainted from the pain early into the surgery. With his wounds bandaged and clean, there was nothing left for her to do but leave.

When she turned, Jin Ae thought her mind had given up on her and had conjured him up in the middle of the living room. She stumbled against the doorway, leaning her body against it for support. Only when she felt his hands firm around her shoulders did she come to understand that he was there. Flesh and armour, wrapped under a thick, black coat littered with frost. His mouth was masked behind a cloth, no doubt to protect him from the blizzard that droned on outside. But she would recognise those eyes anywhere, gleaming under the half-light like sapphires, flickering to her hands.

“Thorin?” A man emerged from behind him, green eyes wide and frantic. Jin Ae stepped aside to reveal the boy, and he rushed inside, falling on his knees by the bedside. He spoke to who she could only assume was his daughter, who had followed him to talk in their own language. 

Steady hands still held her, urging her to look at him.

“What have you done?” He asked. Breath close against her cheek. 

“What I could.” Her body suddenly grew uncomfortably hot. “His leg was already necrotic. The infection had turned septic. If I hadn’t done it, he would have died.”

The conversation behind her had stalled, and she could sense they were listening. The mention of death, rendering the room silent.

“You’re burning.” He eyed the way her breathing ragged, sweat-matted hair clinging to her forehead. Leading her to one of the chairs, he sat her down before stalking over to the pair behind them. Jin Ae thought about asking for the paracetamol in her bag, almost forgetting that she had used the last two on the boy, along with all the ibuprofen, which she had prepared for him to drink once he was awake. For the pain would be unbearable, and she felt sorry she couldn’t give him more.

Someone reached for the zipper of her jacket, urging her to sit up and take it off. She let the hands maim her like a doll, stripping down her pants and shoes to just her shirt and leggings. The daughter wrapped her in a blanket, while the two men faced away from her, conversing by the kitchen in hushed tones. 

The girl was talking, she realised, tossing firewood into the hearth.

“Thank you.” 

It was barely a whisper, as if she was afraid of saying it too soon.

Jin Ae could only manage a nod, already drifting to sleep.

After travelling in the wild for so long, it was easy to forget how to eat a proper meal. Jin Ae had to eat slowly, in small, careful bites so as to not shock her stomach. The soup before her was clear and runny, more broth than meat, yet warmer than anything she’s had in weeks. 

“It’s not much.” Her host apologised from across the table. “ But it will make you feel better.”

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” She smiled, relishing in the heat. 

Night has fallen, turning the cabin dim. The only light came from the fireplace, and the glow had to crawl its way to the kitchen where they all sat together. A shadow cast itself upon the father’s face, who had introduced himself as Tamrok, and even as he smiled at Jin Ae, the mirth didn’t quite reach his eyes. Weighed down by the sight of his son sleeping in the other room, leg freshly amputated. Freyr was his name. 

Whereas his daughter, Freya, looked much more relieved, standing to refill the teacup with more boiling water. And only now did she notice the neatly trimmed beard beneath the girl’s chin. A braid hung by the side of her head, identical to her father’s, marked with a single green bead that caught the light. The rest of her auburn hair was woven in simpler plaits, cascading to the hem of her waist, just a touch longer than her father’s, which fell to the middle of his back.

The only person left was her former travel companion, who she had suspected — and was proven right — had lied to her about his name. They stared at each other. He seemed to show no remorse, always looking at her hands, which were still stiff and slightly trembling, only halfway thawed from the cold. 

“I…cannot thank you enough, healer.” Tamrok finally spoke. As if he was unsure of how to express himself.

She adjusted the blanket around herself. When Jin Ae woke, she was offered a clean set of clothes to put on. The cotton dress was thin, too wide that it revealed her shoulders and too short that it hung above her knees. But they had offered to wash her jacket and pants. She might as well give her shirt and leggings too.

 “ In different circumstances, I would have given him a cleaner cut. But the skin was tough and we only had the cleaver.” She frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“You saved his life. There is nothing to regret.” He leaned forward, a small smile across his lips. “And toughness is to be expected of us dwarves. We were made to endure. Mahal forged us so.”

Jin Ae lowered her spoon. “Dwarves?”

There was the sharp clink of the teacup against the wooden table, and all three sets of eyes landed on her.

“Surely,” Tamrok laughed, a short, confused sound, “ — you are aware ?”

She looked at Thorin, often distant and hard to read, showing the first real sign of emotion since she had laid her eyes on him. His eyebrows had shot up to his hairline, and Jin Ae would have revelled in that if she didn’t currently feel like an idiot.

“I thought physicians went to school.” Freya chortled.

“That was impolite, Freya.” Her father chastised, although the man — the dwarf , sitting next to him looked as if he might agree with his daughter. Jin Ae could feel the blood rush to her cheeks.

She scraped up the last bit of her food before setting the bowl aside, suddenly feeling the need to defend herself. “ There aren’t any dwarves where I’m from. Just…humans. Men.” 

Tamrok raised a brow. “Then you must hail from far away, healer.”

“Please,” She corrected. “ Call me Jin Ae. And yes. I come further from anywhere you might know, I’m afraid.”

“It would explain your work. I have never seen a stitch of the like, and I have my experience with the sick and wounded.” His gaze fell, as if remembering something painful. But then he studied her with interest, which made her feel more at ease than when Thorin used to scrutinise her. “ Which begs the question. How did you come to be here?”

“I was lost when Thorin found me.” She was sure he had told Tamrok everything already. And Jin Ae didn’t know what else to say. That was also the first time she had spoken Thorin’s name out loud. And a flicker of surprise passed by Tamrok’s face. 

“ He brought me here. To Swanmere. I was hoping to find help from the people, but I have a feeling I won’t find any.”

“You are right in that.” Freya spat, the wooden chair scratching against the floorboards as she stood to collect the dishes. “ The people of this town are selfish rats who have no honour —”

“Freya, enough.” Her father sighed.

“ No ! I will not be silenced again.” She groaned, running a hand through her braids as she dropped the wooden plates into the sink. “ Nothing was working. He had been sick for days and if I hadn’t gone into town, he would have died .”

“You should have waited for me. I was getting help —”

“You were gone for days !” She yelled. “I cannot just sit and wait for the wound to take him.” 

Jin Ae stared at the pair, unsure of whether it was her place to step in. Her neighbor seemed to be thinking the same thing, although he looked more strained, as if ready to step in any minute.

“ The people of this town are dangerous, Freya. They could have hurt you.” Tamrok reasoned, almost pleading. “ I cannot have that.”

There was a bleak set to Thorin’s eyes, as though he agreed.

“So you would have let him die. Is that it ?”

“Enough,” Thorin said at last. But Freya ignored him. Jin Ae caught the way his face crumbled. It was almost comical how offended he looked.

”When he went out that day, he only wanted to help you.” Her fists were shaking, balled at her sides as she fumed at her father. With that she lifted the skirts of her dress and stalked towards the room at the end of the hall, slamming the door so roughly Jin Ae could feel the floor beneath her shake. The silence that followed after would have been awkward if it was not already painful, as if the slow dull ache in Tamrok’s chest had bled into the room. 

“Give her time.” Jin Ae said softly.

“I regret that you have to witness that.” Somewhere in their argument Tamrok had got up from his chair, and as he sat back down weakly, Thorin placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Teenagers.” Jin Ae sighed. “ I understand.”

“You have children?”

She shook her head, noticing how Thorin’s eyes moved to her.

“No. But I know parents try their hardest, always, for their children. And the children do everything out of love. Even if their parents can’t always understand it. ”

“Aye.” He cast his eyes down regretfully. And Jin Ae sensed that there was nothing left for her to say, so she headed towards her sleeping patient, leaving the two men to talk.

She stayed in their home for another week, trapped by the relentless storm that had raged since the day she arrived. Outside, the wind whipped and twisted, carrying a blizzard so fierce it made any attempt to leave the hills impossible. Snow piled higher each day, leaving Thorin no choice but to stay put as well. And he made it very clear to everyone that he was unhappy with it.

While he and Tamrok ventured out before daybreak to complete their woodwork before the storm grew worse, Jin Ae spent her days tending to Freyr. The siblings almost looked identical, she noted, bright, red hair burning under the white afternoon light. But while Freya had her father’s strong jaw and hooked nose, Freyr’s features were softer, cheeks rounder, eyes wide with curiosity as Jin Ae fixed his bandages. She peeled back the edge of the cloth with a steady hand, the fabric damp and clinging from sweat and old blood.

He signed something to her and Freya entered the room just in time to interpret for him.

“He says the pain has lessened. After the medicine.” Freya was also watching, eyes following Jin Ae’s movements. “ Said it's very potent. What is it?”

“ A type of painkiller. From where I’m from we call it Ibuprofen.” 

As the wrappings came away, Jin Ae scanned for any sign of fresh infection. With quiet movements, she reached for clean linen and a salve Tamrok had stashed in his medicine cabinet, dabbing the edge of the raw flesh with a cloth soaked in boiled herbs. Thorin had handed them to her the morning after she had fallen asleep on the couch. Dawn had barely broken to give its first light.

He was standing by the doorway where Freyr slept, staring ahead with a kind of grim stillness. She wondered how long he had been standing there.

Their eyes met briefly, and he shoved the plant into her hands before stalking off to join Tamrok outside to gather firewood. Black Samson, they called it. But Jin Ae recognised its bright petals as Echinacea.

Across her, she almost forgot her audience was waiting for her to continue.

“When you are injured, your body sends out a sort of signal. Imagine tiny messengers in your blood. These messengers have an important task: they bring pain and swelling. That is how the body knows to guard the wound and start to heal.”

She began to rewrap the stump, fingers smooth and tight, securing the dressing in a practiced rhythm. 

“Those messengers don’t come on their own. Your body makes them with the help of little workers, tiny things called enzymes. But sometimes, they go too far. The pain becomes unbearable, or the swelling makes it hard to move.”

She gestured to the powder laying on the table. “That’s when we give the patient ibuprofen. It slips in and quiets those enzymes. With the messengers silenced, the pain fades, the swelling lessens, and you feel like yourself again. It doesn’t heal the wound, but it makes the pain easier to bear while you do.”

Freyr watched as his older sister told the story with her hands. His mouth hung slightly open, eyes tracking every movement. Jin Ae knew the girl had yet to trust her, still wary, always hovering by the bedside whenever Jin Ae came to check on her brother. 

The people in the house only spoke to her when necessary, but the night Freyr was strong enough to sit by the table, even if Jin Ae didn’t recommend it, something in the air began to thaw. Things were still strained between father and daughter, but with the boy by the table, they all started to laugh again. Even Thorin had smiled, a rare sight that Jin Ae couldn’t look away from. 

The boy signed something to his father. 

"Freyr is wondering how long you two will be staying."

Jin Ae turned to Thorin. "You said you were heading North."

He nodded. " I have business in Combe."

"What kind?" Freya asked between spoonfuls. And Thorin shot Jin Ae a sideways glance. Taking the hint, she pushed her chair back, ready to collect the plates and head for the sink. But then he answered, voice slow and careful.

"I’ve business with Círdan’s folk in Mithlond. Our people trade across the Lhûn. Tools, metals, timber." 

Tamrok folded his hands before he spoke. "And how has the trade been faring these days?"

“It could be better,” Thorin admitted. “The snow was slow to come this year, but now it has sunk its teeth. Storms. Avalanches. I predict the mountain roads are now cut off and the river too wild to cross. I plan to see how things stand. Before I left for the Dunlands, I also received word of trouble with thieves along the trade path. Some may call it misfortune. I think otherwise."

"You suspect sabotage?" Tamrok scoffed.

“By whom?” Jin Ae wondered aloud. And her mind went to the attack in the woods. On how the thief conveniently had a weapon that could pierce through layers of clothes, armor and dwarf skin.

“Times have changed. Work is scarce, and food scarcer still. It is no wonder that poor men and hungry brigands turn to dwarven caravans. I would not be so quick to cast blame, my friend.” Tamrok suggested.

There was a moment where Jin Ae thought Thorin would argue, maybe even reveal the incident that happened the night they first met. But he thought otherwise, staying quiet and glowering at his hands.

Freya coughed, no doubt uninterested and only uncomfortable by the sudden silence. “ Will you visit the Blue Mountains before heading North?”

“No. I plan to travel the Greenway and cut through Bree.” He pressed his lips into a thin line. “I’ve wasted enough time already in that cursed forest.”

“Do not lose hope, Thorin.” Tamrok reassured, voice dropping. “If your heart tells you he lives, then he does.”

Jin Ae finished what was left of her bread, giving Freyr a small smile when she caught the boy watching her. She made a motion to his stump, to which he replied with a reassuring nod, already halfway lulled to sleep by the warmth of the fireplace. Behind him, outside the windows, the wind had started to calm, and she could see the town below illuminating with light.

“Bree sits at the crossroads of the East-West Road and the Greenway, a known meeting place for traders and travellers alike.” Tamrok mused. “The Men there, at the very least, can be reasoned with. You’ve a better chance of finding your way home from there than wandering these parts, Jin Ae. And if all else fails, the apothecary will take you in. Your skills will be in demand, I don't doubt they’ll pay fair, and well.”

She shifted in her seat, giving it a thought. Tamrok was quick to sense her apprehension. “ I have a spare coat and a pair of boots that will do well in this weather. And supplies that will last you for a little over a week. Enough for until you reach Bree.”

“ I can’t ask that from you.” She reasoned.

"No, healer. You are mistaken.” He smiled, standing to stack the plates together. “ You do not need to ask. Let me do this. It is the least I can do to repay you.”

She scanned the room. And Thorin’s face gave nothing away. While Freya’s expression was more complicated. She looked conflicted, turning her face away to instead interpret the conversation for her brother.

“Thank you. But I don’t know my way around.”

“Well, you and Thorin can ride together !” The man went behind his neighbor's chair and gave it a small kick, and Thorin had no time to glare at him for he was already by the sink. “ We had just spoken about it this afternoon.”

“I was not aware of this.” Thorin protested.

“Then allow me to stir your memory, my friend. And remind you that she has rendered you a great service.” He started scrubbing the plates, albeit a little rougher than usual. At the mention of that, a flicker of annoyance passed over his face. And Jin Ae debated if Thorin forgot that he was within her line of sight or if he simply did not care.

“Until when do you need to stay with your patient?” Thorin asked her curtly.

“The day after tomorrow he should be able to recover on his own.”

“We leave then.” With nothing more to add he got up from his seat, walking towards the empty room he was staying in. 

Noises were coming from the washroom, she realised. Jin Ae had been changing the sheets in Freyr’s room when a thud pulled her out of her thoughts, sending her marching down the hallway. She barely missed the door when it flung open. 

Freyr stumbled forward, collapsing into her arms. The weight of his body would have toppled her if her back hadn’t hit the wall. Stinging pain shooting up her spine. He pointed an accusing finger at his sister, eyes wide and wet. She said nothing, a pair of scissors in one hand. 

Jin Ae eyed the small tufts of hair in the sink. 

Her hands trembled around the copper shears. “We need the coin.” 

Jin Ae’s mouth went dry. “What about Thorin?” 

“Da won’t take it. He knows he’d need it for his trip back to the Blue Mountains.”

Somewhere behind her, the boy shook her arm, wobbling against the doorway. His wooden crutch sprawled across the tub. 

The men will be back soon, she thought. So she made a beeline for the kitchen, pulling at the drawers and sifting through the kitchenware. The second pair of scissors was there, just as she remembered from the previous nights. Jin Ae raised it to her head. With a furious tug, she yanked her hair forward and began cutting in quick, uneven snips. There was a scream from behind her, sharp and shrill. 

But it was done. 

She bunched what was cut into her hands and shoved it towards her. “I have a ring in my bag. Silver. With that, this should be enough.”

She reached for the scissors by the sink, swallowing hard.

A sob ripped out of the girl’s throat.  And behind her, Freyr had begun quietly weeping. Unable to look Jin Ae in the eye.

“Why are you doing this?” She sounded furious, chest heaving. “I don’t need your pity.”

“I’m not pitying you.” 

“Then why?” She yelled, eyes more sad than they were angry.

Jin Ae didn’t know how to say that she was also once younger and full of teeth. Angry at her father too, at everyone. She didn’t know how she could say she never grew out of that anger and understood the girl so well it was almost painful, so she turned to her heels and continued to strip the rest of the dirty sheets. The silence pressed against her throat like a bruise.

When Thorin saw her, he looked almost pale. Tamrok had marched to his daughter’s room and Jin Ae tried not to flinch when she heard her crying. Ugly, broken sobs that choked on one another. 

As he passed her, his index finger twitched, and his eyes lingered on her hair, the faintest flicker of shock breaking through his composure. She had assumed Freya didn’t want to cut hers because it had meant something, having seen her take her time in the morning to brush the ginger strands. How she braids and coils it in ribbons before moving to brush her beard.

But Jin Ae didn’t understand why Thorin looked so upset.

It was just hair.

" Adad said he and amad came down from the hills when there was still trade to be had. Wood for fish, iron for salt. They didn't like us from the beginning. Fair enough. They kept their distance, and we kept ours. But one winter, the frost stayed longer than it should have, and when it finally broke, the river turned black. A rot settled into the waters. Freyr was too young to remember, but I do. "

She ran a thumb over the calluses of her palm. " The fish grew thin, the birds vanished, and the traps came up empty. Next thing you know, rats in the grain, children coughing in their sleep. Stillborns..." 

She trailed off, jaw tight.

"Didn’t take long before someone started pointing fingers. Said we did this. That we brought ill to the marshes. Someone, some idiot lad, claimed his goat died after bartering with me. And that was all they needed.“

She pulled her knees under her. " My amad died just before they lit the torches and pushed us further uphill. At least she didn’t have to witness any of that.”

When she knocked at the door earlier, she didn’t expect the girl to let her in. But the door had opened, just a crack, and that was all Jin Ae needed. She didn’t seem to mind them sitting side by side, shoulders close but not touching, talking under the half-light of the room. 

Jin Ae shifted atop the thin mattress. “What happened to her?” 

“It started as a chill in her chest. But the coughing got worse. Lung fever, adad calls it. She had always been prone to it, and she’d recovered just fine before. But that winter, when the rumors started, no one wanted to help us. He went to town to ask for help.” She released a shaky breath, fiddling with the ring. “ He was there for weeks . Begging. But no one came. I was with her when she died. Just me and Freyr. He was only a babe.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Freya rested her head against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. The light from the moon unearthed the sadness in her eyes, and for a second she looked too old to be a girl. Too tired.

“We would’ve left, if not for the distance. And adad could only earn so much selling firewood. Every year he tried to save for the journey to Ered Luin, but the coins came slow. There was always something—a torn coat, a leaking roof.” She tried to keep her voice as soft as possible, knowing privacy was scarce between the thin walls.“ This year was meant to be the one. But in the last week of autumn, Da fell sick. Took to bed. With no wood to sell, we had to dip into what we’d saved. Freyr wanted to help. Now he’ll never walk again”

Wind slammed into the windows, causing Jin Ae to flinch. But Freya remained still, unfazed by the noise.

“Men have been nothing but unkind to us. Cruel.” She spat. “Until you came.”

“I was just doing my job.” 

“Is that why you saved Thorin?” 

Jin Ae searched her eyes. “Did he tell you that?”

“No. I guessed.” The girl slipped her ring back on. Tamrok has a similar one on his forefinger, while Freyr wears a necklace resting on his neck. Freya has both, although the ring was still a little too big for her. 

“He is honourable and will see to it that a debt is paid. And I see the way he sits, like he’s got a bit of pain on the side. It wasn’t hard to connect the two.”

“Observant.” Jin Ae praised. “What else did you hear?”

The girl shrugged, but Jin Ae noticed her sneaking glances at her hair. A rough, uneven bob that barely brushed the line of her jaw, still jagged from the hurried way it had been cut.

“Thorin said he was sorry for not coming to visit us earlier.” She pressed her lips to a thin line. “He goes here when he can. To check on us. Often giving coins, food, fur.”

“Are they friends?”

“Relatives. Although distant.” She glanced at the ceiling, as if sifting through her memories. “But I suppose they were close friends. They grew up together. Adad was a council member, long ago. A mediator of sorts between Erebor and the Iron Hills. I think Thorin would have made him one of his royal advisors if he wasn’t already bound to Lord Dain.”

Jin Ae blinked, slow and uncertain, like the words hadn't quite landed yet. “And what does that make Thorin? Some kind of king ?”

The girl shot her an incredulous look. “Are you really a physician?”

Jin Ae froze. Then her hands covered her face as the pieces fell into place, sharp and sudden, half in disbelief, half in shame. It all made sense now.  

“Should I call him Lord Thorin then? King Thorin?" Jin Ae blanched at that, turning to face the younger girl. "But you don't even call him that."

"Don’t be daft. I don't even listen to my Da.” She scowled. “What makes him think I'd call him king?"

Their eyes met, and that was all it took; laughter erupted between them like a spark catching fire. And they had to shush one another before the men outside came knocking. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Jin Ae asked, still smiling.

There was a constant hardness behind Freya’s eyes, cold, calculating. But at Jin Ae’s question, they seemed to soften, just for a moment, like a gust of wind had swept the clouds aside to reveal something warmer. Something light.

“Because you will not hear it from Thorin. And you certainly won’t hear it from another dwarf.” Her voice grew serious. “There is a reason why we keep to ourselves. Our race. But you saved my brother.”

“So you feel indebted?”

“No, healer.” She smiled. A small, shy thing that finally made her look her age. “ I feel thankful.”

“I don’t know how much the diamond is worth in these parts.” Jin Ae dug her nail underneath the crystalline, trying to separate it from the band. Grabbing a knife from the kitchen, she heated it over the flames. With a careful twist of the dagger’s point beneath one prong, she bent the setting back just enough to loosen the grip. The stone shifted, before dropping into her palm. 

“But the silver is worth coins. Don’t you think so?” She added, walking towards the doorway.

Freya didn’t look all too happy, but she didn’t refuse when Jin Ae handed them over to her. 

“Keep the diamond for next winter.”

“Why are you giving this away?” The girl squinted, holding the white diamond under the morning light. “What is it worth to you?”

Jin Ae thought of the rain. The feel of the rivulets against her skin, cold and shivering, hiding under a streetlight as he slipped it on her finger. She remembered how he smiled, rows of white teeth, their noses bumping into one another.

“It’s just a ring.” She rasped, flickering her eyes towards the dwarf waiting by the foot of the stairs. He was watching them, arm on the saddle as Tamrok spoke to him. 

They didn’t hug, but Freya gave her a wry smile, turning the stone in her hands. Jin Ae and Tamrok exchanged a few words, and when he shook her hand, his grip was firm, kind.

“I don’t believe this is the last time we shall see each other, Jin Ae.” His eyes darted between her and the ring in his daughter’s hand, and Jin Ae was quick to smile, hoping to reassure him that everything she’d done up to this point was because she could. There was no debt to be paid.

“ No. And I hope not. Thank you, Tamrok. I wish you all the best.”

“Freyr wishes to convey his thanks in his own way if you don’t mind.” 

The boy looked up at her expectantly, nearly throwing himself off his crutch and into her embrace. A sound was knocked out of Jin Ae, bubbling into a laugh. She hugged him back, patting the crown of his head. “Finish your medicine. All of it. And try to stay out of trouble.”

He gave her a toothy grin, watching his dad sign her message.

“An impossible request, healer.” His sister remarked. 

The light, soft and silvery slipped gently over the frost-kissed grass, where patches had begun to thaw, glistening wet under the sun’s timid warmth. Each blade shimmered like glass, the earth below still stiff with the memory of the storm from previous nights. 

But that was behind them now.

Thorin clasped a hand on Tamrok’s shoulder, speaking in their language. Khuzdul, it was called. But their eyes said more than their words, and with that, he mounted the pony, holding a hand out for Jin Ae to take. 

Something was different, she noted. His eyes kept returning to her hair, tracing its uneven edges. An emotion was waking behind his gaze, a newfound sense of trust, maybe even respect, finally stretching its limbs after a long season of slumber. 

When her fingers brushed the material of his glove, dark leather, smooth against the touch, he hauled her up as if she weighed nothing. And then they were on the road again, riding into the barren sweep of snow.

Chapter Text

January TA 2940 

“Hold still.” She instructed, drawing a breath.

The skin had knit back beneath the crude black thread. No swelling, no seepage. With a careful hand, she cut each knot and drew the thread free, one by one. It had been a month since his injury, and she was more relieved than surprised that the wound had closed up so nicely, given the circumstances they were in.

Thorin remained still, only flinching when she finally pulled the end free. She wiped the drops of blood away with a wet cloth, half expecting him to insist on doing it himself. 

But he gave no protest, simply watching her as she did her work.

“It’ll grow back,” she broke the silence. “I’ve had worse haircuts.” 

He averted his gaze. 

It took them two and a half days to return to the Greenway. Now that they were out of the woods and back on the path, Thorin had grown less tense, even suggesting that they set up camp earlier than usual. Jin Ae couldn’t think of a better time than then to remove his stitches. 

“Does it really bother you? My hair?” 

She threw the thread into the small hole she had dug, turning to wash her hands with the meltwater she had boiled and cooled. He didn’t answer her question, and instead thought on his words carefully, which was rare and enough to make her somewhat nervous. 

“What you did for Tamrok, for his family, that was no small deed. Why did you do it?”

Even when he spoke softly, his voice was still deep, like a slow-burning ember, drawing her eyes away from her hands. 

“Because it’s my job to help.” She watched the robins in the distance dance above the knot of boughs. The forest was slowly falling asleep with the dusk, which had painted the sky red, bathing them in an orange glow. “And because I can.”

“But we are not your kin.” 

She thought of the people that heckled Freya, of bright, angry torches burning under the night sky. “ I took an oath to serve the people, regardless of who they are and where they are from.”

She stood, brushing the dirt off her pants. “And I will not stand by and do nothing when I know I can help.”

During slow, unhurried moments like these, when she had the time to sit back and observe her surroundings properly, Jin Ae would make a list of things she had missed. That day, she focused on the two braids at the front of his hair, making a mental note to ask him about it one of these days. She had seen him fix the twists with such care that it was almost out of place; she was not yet used to this side of him. She wanted to see more.

Finally, she thought of how beautiful he looked under the light. For a breath, she saw a shadow of his former self, briefly lit from within, and the ache in her chest began to stir. She didn’t know until when the very sight of him would be a continuous reminder of the stubborn bruise she tries very hard to conceal.

“You have honour, healer.” 

There was no hardness in his eyes, only calm and something quietly kind. 

“Don’t sound too surprised.” She smiled, catching the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. 

A few days later, they decided to stop a few feet away from a frozen lake, not too close to the biting cold of the open water but close enough to make use of the thawed edges where the afternoon sun had softened the ice. The ground nearby was firmer, less exposed to the wind, and ringed with a few sparse trees that offered some shelter. It was where they were to take their lunch. so she sat by the bark of a tree and tore through her bread, eying the clear sky. 

The lakeside laid quiet beneath the sun, and the stillness that surrounded her was broken only by the faint chirps of the small animals above the trees. Thorin had gone to hunt, bow and arrow in hand before disappearing behind a low thicket of branches, leaving her to watch how the snow sparkled where the light touched it, casting the world in a pale brightness that stung her eyes. 

The wind was quiet for once, and even the trees stood still, as if lulled by the warmth. It made the cold easier to bear.

When she heard familiar footsteps, Jin Ae tilted her head to the side. “That was quick.”

He set aside his bow and lowered the pair of rabbits he had killed onto the ground, brows furrowed.

“Something wrong?”

“They were an easy catch.” He narrowed his eyes. “ Too easy.”

She took a closer look at the game, crouching to observe the dead animal. They were hares, she realised. Bigger, longer. They each sported a wound from where Thorin’s arrow shot them, but the one on the left had a rotting cut by its thigh. 

Suddenly, the calm of the afternoon was gone, replaced by a heightened sense of awareness that the birds had stopped chirping. The forest is now too quiet.

Her eyes caught the foam by the edge of the hares’ mouth, and Jin Ae stuck an arm out across Thorin’s chest, as if to back him away. 

“Look there. At the mouth.” She pointed. “These rabbits are sick. Where did you find them?”

He bristled at her urgent tone. “ Not far from here.”

“What were they doing when you saw them? Did they seem lethargic? Slow?”

The way his eyes widened was all the confirmation he needed. “The sickness, does it spread?”

“Not through touch, no. If it is what I think it is, it's unlikely to be transmitted from dead meat to humans. But something bit that hare and made it sick. And it must’ve bit its friend.” She straightened, already eyeing her pack. “Thorin, I don’t think it's safe here.”

He seemed to agree, hand already at the hilt of his sword, her words the final words he needed to confirm his suspicions. Something rustled in the bushes before them, and Jin Ae reacted to it before she could even register what it was, ducking away as Thorin raised his sword. The metal collided with its snout.

The beast gave an ugly snarl; its mouth pulled back to reveal foam clinging to its gums, frothing and thick. He stuck the end of his sword through its skull, the cracking of bones enough to make Jin Ae flinch. 

Thorin pulled her upwards by the arm, onto her feet and nudged her towards the pony’s direction.

She worked to release the knot on its reigns as a cacophony of howls rang through the trees. The pony’s hooves stamped wildly against the frozen ground, nostrils flaring. Cursing, she fumbled with the straps and finished just as Thorin secured their packs on its back, and as they mounted, another wolf-like creature pounced into the clearing, barely missing the horse’s hind legs.

“What are they?” Jin Ae screamed, jerking her head down as they sped past the underbush.

“Wargs.” Thorin barked. “They’re not supposed to come this far down the mountains.”

A blur of grey streaked through the snow behind them, figures fast and low, slipping between trees like shadows. One darted forward, so near she could feel its breath at her heels, jaws snapping just short of flesh. Thorin swung his blade with one arm and slashed through its mouth, ripping a yelp from its throat before it collapsed with a thud.

She wrapped her arms around his chest to bring herself closer to him, afraid she might fall off the pony with the speed they were going. 

“Head for the water but stay on the edges!” She instructed, yelling when another had lunged at them and missed.

“And have us drown and freeze to our deaths?” He hissed, sharply steering the pony away from a dead end.

“Just trust me !” 

With a frustrated growl, Thorin did what was asked of him. And somewhere along the way, they had managed to gain a bit of distance, no doubt throwing the pack off course. But it was only a matter of time until the wargs caught their scents again, so Jin Ae explained her plan quickly.

"These wargs are sick, rabies, I think. We can use that to our advantage."

They reached the edge of the frozen lake, and to avoid the ice, the pony tossed its head, reins pulled taut as it danced sideways.

"Those filths have always been riddled with disease. It will make no difference." He argued, looking over his shoulder.

"This is different. Their movements were uncoordinated. Messy. They’re not thinking properly." A sharp howl cut through the air. " They will be afraid of the water, which is why I will lure them out into the ice."

"Don't be foolish." He warned. Yet she hopped off the animal, stumbling atop the ice.

Thorin made a move to grab her, but it was too late. The wargs had found them. 

"Go!" Jin Ae shoved him. "Meet me on the other side !"

Just then, a set of jaws aimed for them, grazing Thorin as the horse galloped away. She leapt onto the lake and stuck both fingers into her mouth, whistling for the pack to follow her. Driven by sickness more than sense, most of the wargs wasted no time pouring out into the ice, lured by the promise of an easier target. A pair of them had split from the group and went after Thorin, but she wasn't too worried. He'd make quick work out of them.

She ran for the edge of the frozen lake. The shortest path to the far bank cut straight across, a narrow stretch of land barely visible through the glare of sunlit snow. But she wasn’t aiming for the far side alone.

The ice cracked faintly beneath her shoes, thin in the centre where the water never fully froze. She knew that. Counted on it.

Behind her, the pack surged, their wet, yellow teeth bared. Eyes red and angry. She didn’t look back and didn't need to. She could hear them, too many paws thundering across the ice.

If I could just make it across, she thought. If I could draw them far enough. 

She veered slightly, not toward the straightest point, but toward the heart of the ice, where it gleamed dark and fragile. Just a little farther. She looked over her shoulder, hoping they'd follow. And then she heard it, a low, ominous echo that rumbled beneath her feet. There was a crack, followed by another before the sound spread in jagged lines across the frozen surface. It raced like a spiderweb towards the centre of the lake where the wolves charged, blind with frenzy. Jin Ae had leapt just in time, because as their paws landed, then came the snap, loud and final, as the ice gave way beneath them. 

Yelps and snarls rang out as they splashed into the dark, frigid water, limbs thrashing in panic, claws scraping for purchase. 

The lake swallowed them whole, and the echoes of their cries faded into the silence.

“Jin Ae!”

She whipped her head. Thorin was looking at her, eyes wide with panic. “Run!”

The cracks were migrating, heading towards her. She only had a small distance left to cross, so she sprinted, as steady as she could on the ice, heading for Thorin’s outstretched arm. 

Just as her fingers were about to latch themselves onto his, the floor beneath her gave away, and Jin Ae found herself surrounded by water. 

With a splash, the world turned quiet. Cold. 

Dark blue engulfed her, and she immediately thought of Thorin. And for a fraction of a second, she also thought of someone else. Someone faraway from her.

An arm wrapped itself around her waist just as she was about to close her eyes, swimming upwards, carrying her weight. When they reached the surface, air forced itself painfully into her throat. A set of hands manoeuvred her, bracing her as she hunched on her knees, fire in her lungs as whatever remained of the water was emptied from them. And then she was being carried, lifted onto the pony. 

She didn't know how long they rode for, but she knew she had to stay awake. So Jin Ae focused on the palm against her back and the arm under her knees, trying to even her breathing. He was saying something to her, but the ringing in her ears was too loud, and her head lolled itself to the side, right above his heartbeat, which she could feel pulsing against her skin. 

After what felt like forever, they finally dismounted, ascending a flight of stairs. Thorin was trying to get her attention, shaking her lightly. His lips were moving and it took her a while to register what he was saying to her.

"Take off your clothes."

The cold had crept in unnoticed at first. Nipping at her fingers, tightening around her toes. But now, it had burrowed deep into her bones. Her hands, once shaking, had stilled. 

Jin Ae fumbled with her coat, clumsy and slow. Her eyelids were beginning to droop, fingers stiff with numbness. So she looked at Thorin pleadingly. 

For a fraction of a second, he stilled. But as if he understood what needed to be done, his hands rushed to undo the laces of her boots, tugging at them and her socks. Then he peeled off her coat, fingers grazing her belly as they lifted her shirt over her head. He retracted his hands when she wrapped her arms across her chest, moving to her pants instead, stripping her only to her bra and underwear. When she didn’t protest, he threw the clothes aside and got up. 

Her heart dropped at the loss of contact, arms weakly reaching for him. Only when he returned to her side did Jin Ae sense the drowsiness trying to trick her, to lull her to sleep. She found it harder and harder to focus, and the strange calmness that threatened to overcome her grew more and more alluring each second.

Wood popped and shifted as the flames took hold. In front of her, the fire grew bolder, and if she lacked less sense than what remained now, she would have dived head-first into it.

A blanket was draped around her, followed by something heavier, and thicker. She felt like surrendering to the weight behind her eyes. But she couldn’t sleep. Not yet, not when the chill hasn't left her body. 

As if reading her mind, she heard him moving, floorboards creaking followed by the rustling of clothes being shed. 

He lifted the side of the blanket and slid himself between her and the wall, and when his skin touched hers, warm and almost burning, a low noise ripped itself out of her throat. She gave in, letting him move her, drawing heat from his touch. She basked in the rough calluses of his hands, the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back. 

The effect was instantaneous; the shivering was starting to subdue, fading with the hands that were running up and down her shoulders. 

She saw there was a cut along his open palm, long and thin, curling from his thumb and ending by the base of his wrist.

“ D-did they bite you?” She mustered.

“No,” he assured her. “ They didn’t.”

“ G-good.”

“You must stay awake,” he commanded, solid and steady, anchoring her to consciousness. 

“Tell me about the B-blue mountains.”

He pulled her closer, chin ghosting above her head. “Ered Luin lies west of Eriador. Up in the mountains, where they fade blue with age. The bones of the mountains are old, but our forges still burn. The forests are enough for firewood, and the rivers always run clear. ”

She stared at the flames and tried to picture his words; a reclusive, dwarven kingdom resting behind snow-covered peaks, carrying cold, clean rivers that ran beneath the green pines.

“And what about Erebor?” She whispered.

For a second she was afraid she had said the wrong thing, for the silence that followed stretched for minutes, leaving her with the sound of the fire as it crackled.

“That, healer,” he sighed. A tired and heavy sound. “ Is the only place I’ll call home.”

He seemed to be thinking, unsure of where to start. 

“The Lonely Mountain stands alone in the north of Rhovanion, to the east of Eryn Lasgalen and north of the Dalelands. Erebor was a fortress built deep within the mountain itself. It was the heart of my people.” There was pride in his voice. She could hear him smiling. “The halls of my fathers and forefathers used to echo with song, lit by gold and forge fire. We mined precious gems from the earth beneath, hewn from rock and in great seams of gold running like rivers through stone. I was born beneath those arches, below vaulted ceilings, carved by hand and hammer. A kingdom under the mountain, as grand as any ever built.”

That was the longest she’d heard him speak, and it was impossible to miss the homesickness  in his voice. 

“What happened to it?”

His fingers curled. “It was taken from us.”

“I’ve l-lived in so many different places that I don’t have one to call h-home,” she confessed, filling the silence. “I was born next to the sea, on an island called Jeju, the place where my dad — father, lived. But I left as a teenager to study out of the country. Where I continued to practice. I rarely went to see h-him. ” 

Warmth and feeling were starting to return to her cheeks, and Jin Ae tentatively moved her fingers, starting with her pinky, relieved to see that all ten of them were beginning to regain some form of movement. Her teeth had also stopped chattering, so she continued, voice raspy from all the coughing earlier.

“ But that night in the Dunlands, the morning before, was the first time in almost a decade that I came to visit. And I was on my way back from a hike to the temple when I ended up here. I have no idea how that happened.”

“Why were you there?”

She cast her eyes down. “ I had just lost someone special to me. He was, in a way, my home.”
 
“I’m sorry to hear that.” And she could tell he was, judging from the quietness of his voice. 

Now that she was more conscious, Jin Ae began to observe her surroundings. They were in a damp room that smelled of old wood and dust, accompanied by a dilapidated ceiling and missing floorboards. The sun was halfway gone, the last rays of light, descending on the door across them. He must have broken a nearby chair to start a fire, her lighter lying nearby, along with their clothes that were drying.

He shifted behind her, his bare thighs moving across hers. Flushing, Jin Ae was now very aware of how naked they both were. But he looked like he had no plans to leave, ears vigilant and tilted towards the window. So they sat in silence for a while, no words exchanged between them, with just the sound of their breathing mingling in the empty space.

“First, we heard a noise like a hurricane coming down from the North,” Thorin spoke. “It was a fire-drake. Smaug had come. I was there when he laid waste to the city of Dale and when he broke through the doors of Erebor.”

She listened to his story, watching the way his eyes turned into different shades of anger and grief. He told her about the great wealth that flooded the tunnels of his kingdom, about the Arkenstone and his grandfather, and of the fire that devoured everything in its path. He spared her the details of what happened after, and she understood. There was no use in reopening old wounds. And if she asked, she asked little, and he answered even less. 

When he finished, it must have been past midnight. Dawn would break in a few hours, and by this point, most of the cold had disappeared, replaced by a low warmth steadily building beneath her skin. Gone was the danger of sleeping. 

Pressed close, she heard him speak not through her ears but through the steady thrum in his ribs. So she allowed herself to drift, savouring the heat trapped under the pile of blankets and his coat. His chin against her temple, the last thing she felt before succumbing.

She dreamt of dragon fire, of dark, red wings blocking out the sun before swooping down to cut the trees. And in the aftermath, she wandered through the empty halls like a ghost, descending flights of broken stairs, the marble cold and hard against the underside of her foot.

Someone was with her, holding her hand, their fingers intertwined. The warmth felt real, heavy with weight, and she would recognise those callouses even with her eyes closed. Yet these hands felt rougher, marred with scars and hard lines. 

Then she heard it. Faint at first, coming from her left. It was the sound of a cardiac monitor, the electronic noise foreign and out of place. It beeped steadily, once, twice, before dropping into a flatline, ringing noisily down the empty, marbled chambers.

When she woke with a jerk, the fire before her had been put out, smoke wafting from the pile of black ash. She lifted herself upright, away from the wooden wall, where the blankets had slipped down her shoulder, exposing the patch of skin to the morning chill. 

The sky outside was purple, early and just waking. 

Thorin watched her from the other side of the room, already dressed in his coat. He placed her thermos next to her before heading for the doorway, sword in hand. He gave her one last look, expression bent with worry. But there was something else in his eyes, something sad, like when he spoke of Erebor — when he spoke of loss.

He closed the door behind him, and Jin Ae clenched and unclenched her fingers slowly; the warmth in her hand, real and fading, clinging to her skin like an afterthought.

They didn’t talk about last night. By the time he came back from patrolling the area and feeding the pony, she was already dressed, clothes dry if not a little damp. He didn’t bring it up and neither did she, so Jin Ae tried her best to look him in the eye normally as if they hadn’t spent the entire night spooning. Great. 

Her movements were still slow and unsure, but Thorin was patient, helping her down the stairs. His gloved hand, a steady weight against her fingers. 

As they descended, her eyes roamed around the abandoned house, watching the withered vines from outside push their way past the windows to crawl all over the walls. She observed that there was still bedding and curtain strewn around and silverware riddled with cobwebs resting atop the table.

Once they were on their way again, slowly because of all the undergrowth and fallen trees, she noticed several more empty houses haunting the area, slouched against the wind, their shutters long torn off, their doors hanging crooked on rusted hinges, close to being devoured by the forest.

“It is more likely the people of this settlement fled their homes than were driven out,” he said, as if hearing her thoughts. “Otherwise, we would see signs of it.”

“They left in a hurry,” she murmured, warily looking over her shoulder. The road behind them was half-shrouded by tall, brittle grass that had pushed through the cracks. And frost clung to the overgrowth in messy patches.

“The creatures that dwell upon the mountain have grown bolder,” he said, unease creeping into his voice. “ These folks were smart to head North. Farmers have no means to defend themselves against wargs.”

“What were they?” She shuddered, recalling their escape. “ They looked like wolves, but bigger.”

“They are worse than wolves, foul by nature. We were lucky. Wargs seldom go unaccompanied by Orcs,” he frowned. She sensed he was only this calm because they had covered a great distance yesterday. 

“Orcs?”

“Filth bred for war,” he spat—venom in his words. “ Orcs have long since taken to riding wargs. The two are known to hunt together. Often, if you see one, the other is not far behind.”

“The ones we encountered were sick, so their riders probably set them free knowing that they were dying.” She theorised.

“How can you tell?”

“Assuming I’m right, they’re infected with rabies. It’s a virus, think of it as a type of poison that takes root in the blood. Once it spreads throughout the bloodstream and into the nerves, it attacks the brain and damages it.” Her eyes flickered to his hand, relieved at the sight of the small wound already closing. “ And it spreads through the saliva. Through bite.”

“ How did you predict they would fear the water?” He asked.“ A healthy pack would have leapt out and continued the chase. I watched them writhe and sink. What told you this?”

“ They were behaving strangely, both the hares and wargs. Animals with the disease either appear less alert or aggressive. And it's not that they fear water, but rather they are afraid of swallowing. The parts of the brain infected by rabies are the same ones controlling the motor functions for the muscles around the mouth and neck, making it painful for them to drink or swallow, hence they associate that with the fear of choking on water.”

He didn’t bother to hide his expression, and Jin Ae hated the way her chest lifted, like she wanted to preen at the barest hint of awe in his voice. 

“Your knowledge is extensive,” he praised, voice shifting into something more serious. “What you did was reckless. If you were further away I would not have reached you.”

Her gaze faltered.

“But it was very brave.”

The sunrays skimmed the crown of his head, and from this angle, if she looked down she could see the strands of white sticking out of his forehead — silver like snow.

A smile forced its way to her face. 

“How did you get the cut in your hand?” She asked.

He glanced down. “ It is nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if it’s enough to cut through a dwarf.”

Sensing she wasn’t going to drop the question, he turned his head sideways, looking at her but not quite. 

“ It was the ice.” 

She thought back to the feel of his arm around her waist, how the ice must have broken unevenly, sharp ridges jutting like glass. 

“ Oh.”

They crossed a small stream, the border of what she could only assume was once a village, filled with life, laughter and song. Now reduced to nothing but an empty landscape of wild grass and snow.

“Thank you,” she uttered softly, suddenly feeling breathless.

He smiled. And suddenly, it felt like the sun was right above her, shrouding them in warm light.

Chapter Text

February TA 2940

The ice had begun to thin, melting into the soil to make way for the buds of flowers that were sprouting. There was a time when Jin Ae thought this strange, old world was made up of nothing but woodland, for the forests all felt endless, rows of high trees encroaching them like pillars. 

But as they now travel through the valley, she saw that the grasslands were even wider, stretching as far as the eye could see. Cloaked in windswept grasses that rippled in long waves, while the hills folded gently upon each other on either side.

They decided to set up camp where the land curled just enough to shield them from the breeze, where the grasses grew thick, past a line of scrubby trees. It was strategic because the road trailing off north was still visible without leaving them exposed, granting them the liberty of lighting a fire, which Thorin had been cautious about ever since arriving in the open area.

Bored and not yet quite ready to sleep, Jin Ae had absentmindedly picked up a nearby stick, doodling flowers and stars on the dirt before her hand moved onto tracing hangul characters. She started with the alphabet as if to test herself, and then she began writing mindlessly — grass, moon, wolves. 

A rational part of her brain knew it was almost impossible for her to one day wake up and forget how to speak or write Korean, but the fear was always there. And now that she was momentarily stuck here, with no distractions such as running for their lives or fighting through terrible weather, there was a sense of dread that came with the thought of being forever severed from her hometown. A thought that had never crossed her mind before that the possibility felt impossible to prepare for.

A pang of sadness gripped her as she thought of Erebor. She imagined it must be the same for Thorin — he who lost everything, in the blink of an eye. She supposed even if she’d never faced dragon fire, they were similar in a way. 

As if she had summoned him with her thoughts, Jin Ae heard the crunch of his boots before he came into view.

“What are you doing?”

“I was just writing, in my language.” She craned her neck to look at him. “ I sometimes have this irrational fear that I’ll forget how to speak it after not using it for so long.”

“That is a founded fear,” he sympathised, lowering himself down next to her. 

His eyes roamed over the characters sprawled on the ground, and he paused as though considering his words.

"I know there are men who speak tongues beyond the Common Speech, descendants of far-off tribes that settled here." His gaze flickered to her, curious. "I've seen and heard many. But yours... I’ve yet to encounter."

She swept the stick sideways against the dirt, smudging the writings to start from scratch. “ I can show you. If you want.”

He went still. “You would teach me your language?”

“It’s easy,” She reassured. But he was still rooted in the spot, looking at her with an expression she couldn’t name. 

“ It was designed to be that way. Our previous alphabet, Hanja, was a logogram alphabet; which meant each character stood for a specific word. This made it difficult and only accessible to the wealthy who could afford formal education. During the Joseon dynasty, to increase literacy rates amongst his people, King Sejong introduced Hangul, which is more straightforward to implement because each symbol represented a sound.”

“A wise pursuit.” He hummed.

She walked him through the basic vowels and consonants, and he listened more than he asked questions. When she asked him to try pronouncing some words, he hesitated at first, then gave in. He struggled slightly with a few sounds—ones she imagined didn’t exist in either his language or the Common Tongue, which in this case was English—but aside from the early hiccups, he did surprisingly well

“You must’ve been a star student,” she grinned. 

He let out a sound like a scoff, “High praise, healer. The tutors in Erebor would disagree.”

“You had tutors ?” 

“Long ago,” he watched the Greenway in the distance, a dark thread across the plain, gently illuminated by a cluster of watchful stars. He looked like he wanted to continue, but held himself back. 

Jin Ae knew better than to press on, so she continued writing.

[톨인]

“What does it say?”

“Your name,” she pointed. “Although Korean doesn't have the ‘th’ sound. So I’m afraid the closest thing we can get is Tol-in. Thorin.”

He looked at her intently, eyes heavy on her like weighted gems. The same unnamed emotion flickered through his face, disappearing just as quickly as it arrived. She wondered if her brain had made it up.

“What does it mean,” she swallowed. “ Your name?”

“In our language, it means the ‘bold one.’”

He noticed her waiting, and for a moment, seemed to hesitate. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he continued. “My mother thought it was a fitting name, for I cried little when I came to this world and had roughly grabbed the beard of the midwife when she came to take me away from her.”

The mental image of baby Thorin coming out of the womb, brooding and angry, made Jin Ae laugh. And the wind carried the sound of her laughter in the night air, ringing like bells for the valley to swallow. 

Usually reclusive and distant, these were the rare moments she sought that made her feel closer to the man who’s been protecting her all this time. And it warmed something in her, calling an old kind of longing, an age-old desire to peel back the curtains and see more.

"And how do you write yours?"

His voice rumbled low and content, like distant thunder on a warm night.

She raised the stick and wrote her name next to his.

"Jin Ae."

He was looking at her intently, eyes heavy on her like weighted gems.

“And what does it mean?”

She pulled her coat tighter around herself, gazing into the fire.

“My parents grew up very poor. My father used to wake up before sunrise to catch squid on this tiny fishing boat, while my mother worked as a maid for another family. Money was hard to come by. It was a lot of labour and very little pay. So when my mother was pregnant with me, they said that I would be their first and only treasure. Their Jin Ae.”

She drew the first character. [진]

“Jin means gold and Ae” She added [애], “means love. So gold that’s cherished is — ”

“A treasure,” He finished.

“Yes.” 

Their eyes locked.

The wind was gentler than before, no longer biting like it did last week. She had to shake the sense of Deja Vu, the feeling that they'd lived through this before, tugging at the edges of her mind. And it took her a while to realise how closely they were sitting now, knees almost brushing. 

A month ago, she would have moved away. But things were changing between them. She could feel it. As if he was slowly allowing her to see him, and she was no longer afraid to look.

There, under the stars, his blue eyes caught the light like still water, their edges softening to silver. Then she thought of how, for the first time since her arrival, this strange, old world was starting to make sense.

At some point, the valley had narrowed toward a stony rise filled with twisted branches that jutted out like needles from low shrubs. Thorin was ahead of her and guiding Karkith — the pony, whose name she had only learnt recently following the night of their conversation on languages — by the reins. The hill wasn’t steep, but the lack of grass made it slippery, and Jin Ae had already caught herself from falling on her ass a few times.

She thought it’d be a shame to trip and scrape her knee against the scatter of little rocks, she’d have to pick them out one by one. Even worse was falling into the low-growing juniper bushes that thickened the further up they went. Their thorns spiralling down each stem like rows of little teeth.

It wouldn’t have been a problem if she had worn her trousers, but after days of travelling with them through the long grass, she had no choice but to switch into the only clean clothes she had: the woollen dress Freya had given her. 

At least the fabric was easy to move in, dangling just above her ankles, which minimised the risk of the hem catching under her foot. She had secured the loose part of the top with a few quick stitches, and while they didn’t look very nice, she wasn't aiming to look pretty while trying to survive out in the wild. And even if she preferred her hiking shoes over the loose-fitting boots she had on for this type of elevation, the latter made sure her ankles didn't suffer any cuts. 

Although, it was getting more and more difficult to avoid the prickly thorns with every step. So Jin Ae had to move slowly, lagging behind Thorin. At one point, she even had to shed her coat, bunching it up in her arms.

She watched in envy as he scaled the hillock with ease, strong legs steady beneath him as he braced himself to guide the pony up by its side. And it was in that moment that she heard the tear of fabric, loud and sharp across her thigh. 

A part of her skirt had snagged itself against a low brush. She tugged at it once, twice, but it was no use. If anything, she had made things worse, for the cloth had twisted around the cluster of needle-like branches, expanding the tear across her leg.

She raised her head, ready to call on Thorin, only to find he was already in front of her. So close that she almost knocked her head into him when she looked up.

“It’s stuck.” She huffed.

“I can see that.”

She knew he was probably assessing the damage, but the way his eyes rested on her thigh made her skin tingle, pushing a slow warmth to spread from her chest to her neck. Just as she was about to ask him what he’d do, he knelt on the ground and ripped the fabric apart. Jin Ae would have stumbled forward if it wasn’t for his other hand splayed across her hip.

“Hey!” She protested, but he was already standing. Guiltless and poker-faced, as if he hadn’t just ruined the only other pair of clothes she had.

With him on the high ground, he was the one finally looking down at her. His hand warm and solid, still on her waist. 

“ You should tread more carefully.” He advised.

If he’d torn any higher, Jin Ae was certain she’d be the unfortunate pioneer of the continent’s first one-sided miniskirt. Thankfully, the rip stopped just above her knee, where she caught him looking before he turned away. Hand falling to his side.

“I really was being careful.” She murmured. “Thanks.”

He continued to look at her before scanning the hilltop where Karkith waited, neighing at them impatiently. The thicket ahead of them was denser, and if she were to trek on, the thorns would surely scrape her now exposed calf.

"I need to put on my pants." She fumbled, trying to lower her pack. "Just wait for me at the top and —"

A squeal cut her sentence short. 

A pair of strong arms had wrapped themselves under her knees. Thorin had lifted her over his shoulder, she realised dumbly, carrying her past the bushes. It was a short walk, less than a couple of minutes. Yet Jin Ae couldn't think of anything but the muscle underneath her thigh, hyperaware of the feel of his leather arm bracer pressing against her bare skin.

Once he deposited her at the top, she opened her mouth to protest, ready to tell him off for manhandling her. But no words came out, leaving her to stand before him and gaping like a fish out of water.

"We must make haste. We don't have all day."  

He stalked off to Karakith, leaving her standing there as something stirred in the pit of her stomach, warm and waking.

After a week of crossing the empty grasslands, they finally came across a small town, arriving in the late afternoon when the sun was starting to sink, and the small streets were swimming with merchants trying to sell them a thousand different things before the day ended.

Thorin insisted she walk ahead of him, obviously tense with the amount of people crowding them from all sides. The narrow roads were alive with shouts and colors, vendors hawking from every corner. He urged her to keep her bag close, his hand, hovering anxiously close to the sword concealed beneath his cloak. 

“Looks like that scarf’s seen better days, lass!” A woman shoved a bright red one in front of her face, waving it enticingly. “Come now, sir, how about a new one for the wife?”

Blinking in surprise, Jin Ae would’ve stopped if Thorin hadn’t guided her with a firm hand at her back, steering her forward through the crush of bodies. He moved with purpose, shoulders squared, placing himself between her and the jostling crowd.

“Why would she assume we’re married?” She asked.

He looked at her the way he would whenever she reminded him that she was, in fact, not from these parts.

“It’s uncommon for a man and woman to travel in each other's company,” he replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Carts were moving about, and when one got too close, he used his body to shield her, gently tugging her close whenever the path narrowed. The press of people slowed them, but he never let her drift far, always one step behind if not clearing the way.

Finally, they were out of the throng. They spent another half an hour wandering before stumbling across what they were looking for. The flickering lantern above the inn's door beckoned them to come closer, the wooden sign obscured by the sudden dimming of the sunlight. Thorin had predicted it would rain in the evening, guessing from the way the clouds were moving. And although he couldn't care less about sleeping under the deluge, floodwater pooled fast in the lowlands. Considering how other travellers were already forming a line by the entry hall, they needed to get their keys quickly.

He tied the pony inside the stable, and Jin Ae trailed after him quietly to the desk of the innkeeper.

As they waited, her eyes hungrily roamed around the area. It was her first time inside an inn, and standing underneath the low ceilings, surrounded by this many townsfolk gliding past her carrying lutes and pipes, was a little surreal if not overwhelming. She almost forgot they were lining up, swept underneath the boisterous laughter and chatting from the common room next to them. 

The woman behind the counter wore a thick woollen dress, a canvas apron tied snugly at her waist. Jin Ae could only guess she was the innkeeper from the ring of keys at her hip, shining under the candlelight as they hung from her belt.

The innkeeper tore her attention away from a man who was speaking to her, or rather, yelling, considering the state of the noise. The woman gave her and Thorin a quick up and down before fishing out a key, sliding it towards them along with what Jin Ae could only assume was a parchment of paper that kept track of all the guests before returning to her conversation. Then she said a few things to Thorin that Jin Ae would have heard if the man behind her hadn't let out a hoot when a tavern maid walked past him, splashing a bit of his beer onto the surgeon’s shoulder.

Thorin hesitated, quill hovering above the paper. She wanted to ask what was wrong, but someone in the back of the line had begun complaining about how they were taking too long. The tipsy man behind her had also started eying her backpack curiously, and she was glad that he wasn’t sober enough to draw any unwanted attention to them.

A few seconds went by before Thorin finally signed his name, slid a few coins, and again, started manoeuvring her with a firm hand up the staircase.

Once upstairs, they passed through a small hall, gliding between stone walls and past a drunk couple who were getting handsy by their doorway before finally arriving by the door at the end of it. The moment they were inside and the door was closed, everything felt quieter, the ruckus downstairs now muffled.

She lowered her bag down onto the carpet, scanning the small space. The walls were made of timber, faintly smelling of woodsmoke. The narrow window by the end of it overlooked the stable, where she could see a young boy feeding Karkith apples. There was a tin basin, a jug of cold water, and a candle stub in a holder by the table. Next to it, a single bed stood in the corner, covered by a faded wool blanket. And it looked warm despite the thin material, paired with the pillows that lay at the head.

Wait. She thought, doing a double take.

There was only one bed.

She whipped her head to look at Thorin, who, for the first time since their encounter, looked out of his element, standing by the doorway awkwardly. 

“It was the only room left,” he said at last, voice low. His discomfort was subtle—but there, in the way he avoided her gaze. “To refuse it on such grounds would draw unnecessary attention.”

“Why?”

He glanced at her then, almost chastising. “Because we have been taken for husband and wife.”

“Ah. Right.” She hung her coat by the wall. “Forgot about the whole ‘men and women don’t travel together unless married' thing.”

They'd been traveling together for months. He’d come a long way and she'd seen Thorin sleep countless times, in just his woolen undershirts, and sometimes even without — the sliver of skin peeking from under the coat he drapes on himself. But that was different. Sleeping outside allowed them to lay a good distance away from each other but still be in each other’s line of sight. It was nothing like being shoved into a tiny room where the only space big enough for a bedroll is to the right, next to the bed.

Jin Ae lowered herself by the stool to undo the laces of her shoes, yet Thorin hadn’t moved an inch, simply watching her as she continued to talk. 

“Well, you can take the bed. I’ll just use my sleeping bag on the floor.”

He shot her an unamused look. “You doubt my honour?” 

“No,” she corrected quickly. “No. I just thought that’d be better because you’ve been out on the road longer than I have, and you must miss just being on a warm bed.”

The shield in his eyes lowered; defensiveness quietly melting away.

“Besides,” she continued, “I’m used to sleeping on the floor. I spent the first half of my life sleeping on a mat.”

Judging from the expression on his face, that piece of information didn’t help. If anything, it earned her stern look. “ You are taking the bed. I will not discuss upon this matter further.”

“Rock, paper, scissors?” She suggested playfully, and when he gave her an incredulous look, it never ceased to amaze her just how much he could express with his face alone.

In the end, she knew better than to be stubborn with someone who had done all the navigating, hunting and most of the night watches. It had been a long week, and when he disappeared downstairs to wash up, Jin Ae waited for her turn by people-watching through the window. Wagon drivers, merchants and traders alike mingled below, and she was thankful for Thorin's quick thinking, for the innkeeper, with the help of a few men, had begun tossing people out. No doubt booked for the night.

She gathered her spare clothes in her hands, wondering if the markets below would reopen tomorrow because she was running low on toiletries. She could also use a few more clothes; it wouldn't do to wear her windbreaker and trousers around so many people. And she didn’t know how much longer she could get away with wearing a torn dress with just leggings underneath.

At the familiar knock on the door — three quick rasps, they had agreed on — Jin Ae called for him to come in. 

Thorin looked pleased to be out of his muddied clothes. His hair was wet and slicked back, smelling of clean soap. 

She had to tear her eyes away.

"The women’s baths lie just beyond the inn. Once you have arrived, you only need to go left," he instructed.

She nodded, heading for the hallway when Thorin placed a hand on her shoulder. He took a coin from his pocket, depositing it in her hand. 

It was then did Jin Ae realise how easy it was to forget that she needed money to get around. She'd been relying solely on Thorin. On his hunts, his horse, and his kindness — he acted under the guise of repaying a debt, one he had obviously cleared the moment he dropped her off Swanmere and pulled her out of the water.

The memory made her face flush.

"You still have much to learn on how things work around here, healer." He spoke, a smirk ghosting in the corner of his lips. But there was something else in his expression, something similar to worry.

Although the building was just across the street, she knew his expressions well enough to guess he wasn't too confident about letting her run to places he couldn't follow, especially with other people running around. It was easy  She wanted to reassure him that she'd be fine, but all that came out was a croaky 'thanks' before she hurried herself downstairs, not waiting to get caught under the rain on the way back. 

The women's bathhouse was warm, quieter than the men's, where their boisterous laughter could be heard all the way inside. Soft candlelight flickered against the damp stone, casting golden reflections upon the mist rising from the pools. The scent of lavender, sage, and drying herbs hung thick in the air, drifting from bundles tied to low rafters.

She slid her coin to the woman on the counter, not expecting to receive change with her soap and towel.

"You can afford to pamper yourself with that, y'know." The bath attendant gave her a look, silver hair blending with the mist. 

"What do you recommend I get?" Jin Ae asked. 

There was an assortment of flowers being dried atop the table, plants half crushed and scattered atop stone grinders. Something about it almost felt nostalgic, soothing in a way that made her shoulders drop. 

"Depends what you’re after." The attendant rubbed her nose, glancing up at the rack behind her. "Who you here with, love?"

"Uhm," Jin Ae stumbled, "my husband."

"Off on a little getaway, are you? Romantic." She added slyly, before reaching for a pouch on the left. "I’d recommend this one, then. Potent stuff, I’ll tell you that much."

Clearing her throat, Jin Ae shook her head. " Not that kind of getaway."

"What d'you mean? It's always that kind of getaway when you're with the mister," she pried, giving her a curious look. " Unless he's been having trouble with the ol'-" she flickered her gaze downwards, and Jin Ae wished the ground would swallow her whole.

"No. I-I'm the one that's not ready. " She lied.

Nodding, the old woman switched the pouch with another, " Then this one will do."

"What is it?" She gave it a whiff, pleasantly surprised at the scent. It smelt exotic, heavy with wood spices. As someone who tended to lean more into softer, floral aromas, it made the new fragrance in her hands even more enticing. 

"Cedarwood with a tinge of myrrh, a bit of liquid courage that is." She winked. 

Sensing her hesitation, the attendant waved her hand. “It just makes you smell nice, really. Nothing more to it.”

Jin Ae gave the pouch another smell before deciding that a pick-me-up was long overdue. So she gave the woman half of her change, parting with a smile and a 'thank you'. Once past the wooden doors, she took note of how the other women draped their towels, relieved to find it wasn’t all that different from the modern bathhouses she was used to—well, aside from the unmistakably medieval European interior, all wood and stone. 

Following the wooden signs, Jin Ae headed for the designated dry area and stripped herself off her clothes. She placed them atop a dry shelf before tip-toeing towards the pool, skimming the surface with her toes. The water was hot, perfect, and a sigh escaped her lips as she lowered herself, steam drifting around her like low fog. 

Watching a nearby woman, Jin Ae copied her movements and poured the contents of the bag into a small bowl, filling it with warm water. The aroma hit her square in the face, spicy and smoky, soothing her scalp when she used it to clean her hair.

She spent a few silent minutes listening to the stream of laughter and gossip, which were muffled by the damp air, almost lulling her to sleep. There were at least twenty women present, either soaking in the water or combing out their tangles by the firelit wall.

A pair of friendly brown eyes acknowledged her from across the pool. Jin Ae saw no harm at smiling back at her. Up to that point, she didn’t realise she had been slipping, eyes half-lidded as the stone beneath her hummed. 

“Long day?” 

Snapping upright, Jin Ae turned her head to the voice. The same woman had waddled her way from across the pool next to her, keeping a polite distance.

“Yeah.” The surgeon sighed, stretching her arms. “We had to cross the valley.”

“Oh, ye poor thing,” she tsked, reminding Jin Ae of the sweet, round-faced middle-aged mothers who’d always approach her in the hospital hallways. “Where ye headin’ to, dearie?”

She debated on how much information she should reveal. “ North. We’re just stopping by.”

“We?”

The question had attracted a few curious eyes, and Jin Ae was starting to regret being polite. She has never been good at lying through her teeth, much more with an audience.

But again, there was something cathartic in being able to speak to another person after travelling with Thorin for months, who spoke only when he needed to. Even after they broke the ice — both literally and figuratively — Thorin still kept her at arm's length. And she still knew very little of him, despite waking up to the sight of him every day for three months. 

She wasn’t expecting them to be friends, considering that they would part ways after their journey — she caught herself. She actually didn’t know what she expected of Thorin. 

Lines were beginning to blur. Feelings were starting to rise, like the first prick of a stubborn thorn that would soon take root inside of her. Was it because he resembled the man she tried so hard to forget, or was it something else? Jin Ae wasn't sure anymore.

If Thorin were right, they would arrive in Bree in about a week. She was itching to finally get off the road and find some answers to why she was here, but at the same time, she dreaded the idea of having to say goodbye. And it was a scary, jarring thing to admit that she'd grown rather attached to their life in the wilderness. A small part of her was willing to bear it: the silence, the distrust, all of it, if it meant she could stay this close to him.

It was all so confusing, and at that moment, it was easier to pretend they were married than to try to verbalise what they were to each other.

“Me and my husband.” Jin Ae answered finally, afraid that the woman would see right through her lie. But her face broke out into a grin, the freckles on her cheeks coming to life as she replied. 

“ Well that’s just lovely ! “

“Are ye just wed, then?” Another voice piqued, and to her left, another woman had suddenly materialised next to her, leaning a little too close for her comfort.

“Yes.” Jin Ae replied, which caused a small chorus of ‘awws’.

“Ach, congratulations !” 

At that point she didn’t know to whom that voice belonged to. 

“Thank you.” She smiled, swallowing the urge to bolt out of the door. 

Then the women began to speak of their own husbands, exchanging stories that either made Jin Ae shake her head in disapproval or duck under the water to hide her blush. Despite their oversharing, she didn’t expect to leave feeling lighter, cheeks sore from all the smiling and hair smelling of spices.

One of the women had even given her directions to a clothier the moment she saw the state of her dress. 

"Och, I doubt yer man’d grudge a handful o’ coin for a new frock, lass." She frowned, looking at Jin Ae up and down when they were putting on their boots. "Ye’ve but tae ask him, aye?"

"Aye, some lads are as daft as cows. Ye'll need t’ tell him tae his face." The other one grunted.

"He's done a lot for me." Jin Ae reassured, catching herself off guard with the sudden feeling of defensiveness rising from her chest.

As they left for the exit, the sight of the rain greeted them, and several other women had taken shelter from it under the roof, complaining about how to get home unscathed under the deluge. Unfortunately, it seemed as if the road had turned muddied, and Jin Ae deflated at the thought of having to clean up all over again. 

The woman to her left gently elbowed her.

"Someone's starin' at ya, lass." 

She followed her line of sight, landing on a hooded figure that stood on the other side of the bathhouse, leaning against the wall. When the man pushed himself up to walk to her, Jin Ae noticed the familiar pipe in his hand even before she could make out his face.

"Thorin?" She spoke, her voice laced with surprise as she saw him standing there. 

He regarded the two other women with a nod, and suddenly, she could feel a dozen pairs of curious eyes on them as Thorin took off his cloak and draped it around her shoulders. Delighted whispers erupted from around them, and Jin Ae was too stunned to refuse when he lifted her into his arms and carried her across the street. 

"See, it's different wi' newlyweds!" A voice shouted.

“He’s a bit older.” Another voice remarked, “ and shorter.”

Thorin paid the voices no mind. Yet Jin Ae wished she had asked for the names of the women or at least bid them goodbye. But she was too busy trying to keep herself upright: both elbows braced against his shoulders as he briskly trudged through the damp earth. The coat of his cloak shielded her from the rivulets, and it smelt strongly of pinewood. Of him.

After a short walk, he set her down by the steps of the inn, where the fire from the candles behind the doorway bathed them in a deep orange glow.

"I thought you didn't want to attract attention."

Jin Ae looked past his shoulder and onto the crowd of women in the distance, trapped under the rafters and no doubt ready to tell off their husbands once they got home.

"You were taking too long." He replied, hair wet from the rain.

She watched the droplets along his forehead. "Were you worried?"

He stared at her in silence, as always. For a moment, it looked like he might lean in, drawn to something — Jin Ae thought of the spices in her hair; chemical bonds breaking and fracturing to release something tangy, saccharine. 

Something in the air thickened, almost suffocating until it snapped. He reeled himself back, heading inside.

Thunder rumbled overhead.

She only realized she’d been holding her breath once he was gone.

Chapter Text

February TA 2940

They had sat down for dinner at the adjoining tavern. The hour was late and the place was crawling with people, so Jin Ae didn’t know how they managed to get a secluded table in one of the corners. Although it gave them privacy, it did nothing to shield them from the noise. Thorin was used to this, it seemed, easily calling on a passing barmaid to ask for their food. Jin Ae, on the other hand, felt out of place, shrinking herself whenever the ruckus exploded into a fit of cheers and whoops.

The barmaid looked at her. 

“And what will you have?” 

Out of habit, she started looking around for a menu, only to be reminded that they probably even haven’t invented the concept of segregating non-smoking and smoking areas, choking at the trail of smoke coming from the man on her left.

“I’ll have what he’s having.” She gestured to Thorin, scooting closer to the wall on her right. 

“What is he smoking?” Jin Ae scrunched her nose, and now they were seated, she realised that the entire tavern smelt of beer and tobacco — she wasn't sure if it was nicotine, only that it was lighter and much more bearable — both earthy and sour with just a tinge of sweetness.

“Pipe-weed.” Thorin supplied, and she briefly saw his hand lowering from underneath the table, no doubt ready to light his own until her words had stopped him. “ I was not aware it bothered you.”

“Not when we were outside, no.” She shrugged, “ and it wouldn’t look good for me as a doctor — physician, if I were to condone it.”

“But I don’t mind if you do.” She added, suddenly feeling very awkward at the way he was observing her.” My dad just used to smoke all the time, so I sort of grew up hating it. I bet he’s making the most of it now that I’m gone, probably smoking his heart out without me there to tell him off.”

Suddenly she wondered what her dad was doing, where he was now and whether he’d reported her missing to the local precinct yet. She thought about policemen searching the woods, flashlights cutting through the shadow of trees in long, white beams. The thought of her casket, empty and clean, made her stomach churn. So when the bar maid placed their tankards in front of them, she took a sip out of it before asking Thorin what it was.

“Then you best return to him soon.”

She forced the burning sensation down her throat, nodding. “And what about your family?”

She knew about the fate of his father and grandfather from his retelling of Smaug’s siege on Erebor.But he’d left out most of what came after, and she wondered if he had someone to come home to or if he was as alone as he seemed.

“My sister’s sons will meet me in Combe.” He replied. “I can only hope the winter has not taken too great a toll upon them.”

Then, slowly, she set her glass down, carefully, deliberately, as though any sudden movement might spook him back into silence. 

She blinked, "Sister?"

There was a hint of amusement in his eyes at her expression.  “She stays in the Blue Mountains.”

Jin Ae briefly wondered if she looked anything like him, raven hair and sharp eyes. “Do you have any other siblings?”

His eyes flickered onto the table. “It’s just the two of us now.”

A roar erupted from the crowd behind them, but suddenly the air felt still, heavy.

She exhaled, trying to fill his silence. “I’m an only child.”

Somewhere at the other end of the tavern, a fiddler had stood on a small raised platform near the hearth, foot tapping, bow flashing as he played a quick, whirling tune that had half the room thumping their boots together. The barmaid that placed their food before them gave the men climbing the tabletop a warning glare.

Thorin leaned forward, signalling her to continue. 

“I never met my grandparents and I don’t have any cousins. At least, none that I know of.” She took a sip of her drink. She knew it was beer, but she heard the other patrons calling it ale, and it was malty and warm compared to what she was used to.

“Has it always been just you and your father?”

She nodded.

“My mother died when I was very young.” She twisted the edge of her sleeve between her fingers. “But that’s a story for another time.”

It felt strange to say the last part, knowing that they will part ways by the end of this journey. Like two ships, passing in the night.

They continued talking as they dug into their dinner, voices swept by the undercurrent of noise. Finally she asked him about Bree, and the advice he gave her was curt and direct. 

“There is an apothecary in the heart of the town. It doubles as a House of Healing. I will take you there. Should you fail to find the answers you seek, perhaps you may find work to tide you over,” he explained. “I am not well acquainted with the physician, I don’t know if he is to be trusted. I will see that you are introduced, but I make no promises beyond that.”

“I understand.” She rubbed her shoulders. “What about the mayor ? Or the town leader?”

“The Townmaster is naught but a figurehead,” he said, his voice tinged with disdain. “He holds little sway, and you would find him less help than the townsfolk themselves, for they hold true influence over trade and politics. They will be the ones to decide whether you are welcome or not.”

“And neighboring towns?”

“People there are even more wary of strangers, and far less likely to offer aid.” 

She sighed, not too happy with her lack of options. 

“Should things go south, seek the Prancing Pony. The innkeeper is a man who can be reasoned with, but he doesn’t welcome anything he suspects to bring trouble.” He cautioned. 

“I will.”

As the night grew older, Jin Ae could feel a warmth blooming around her neck, spreading down her chest. And before she could register the tingling under her skin, Jin Ae had tipped her tankard forward to her mouth only to find it empty—the thirst, persistent ever since she exited the bathhouse. 

She copied his earlier movements and called the barmaid for water but received another tankard of ale, the container overflowing, bubbles fizzing at the top. She could only assume it was a mistake, the staff too busy rushing between tables to notice. And she supposed the possibility of anyone ever ordering water in a tavern was non-existent.

So she lifted the tankard to Thorin.

“Cheers?”

He replied with a questioning look, almost chastising, as if silently warning her not to get carried away. She knew he had a point, but there was just something in the atmosphere that made her want to unwind, especially now that they were no longer outside, where they either had to be vigilant all the time or racing with the weather.

An hour passed, and eventually, Thorin decided it was time for them to leave. Jin Ae raised the tankard to her mouth, but a hand, weathered and sure, stopped her. He set the container aside, fingers still on her wrist.

"You've had enough." 

He called for a barmaid and placed a few coins on the table, navigating the crowd to return to the main hall of the inn. But Jin Ae was distracted, already somewhat light-headed from the alcohol, bumping into a few people who either glared at her or tugged at her hand to dance. She had managed to escape once or twice until Thorin lost his grip on her amidst the throng of bodies, like a ship without her anchor, drifting along with the flow of bodies.

And before she could call out for him, a hand had circled her wrist and dragged her into a clearing where people were dancing in a circle.

There was a time in high school when she’d be the first to line up for the clubs, where she’d be caught by her appa sneaking back into her room just as the sun came up. But that was a long time ago, and now Jin Ae wasn’t sure if she could keep up, especially not when she was tipsy. But the girl that had pulled her in had had a pleading look in her eyes that the surgeon found hard to resist, so Jin Ae tried her best to copy her movements, lost in the sway of the rhythm.

The music swelled, and before they knew it, the two of them were drawn deeper into the ring of dancers—giggling, hands clasped, their skirts swirling in time with the fiddler’s quickening tune. Copying how they dance turned out to be easier than she thought.

They spun in a loose circle, boots thudding against the wooden floor, their cheers rising above the clatter of mugs and stamping feet. The young woman twirled Jin Ae beneath her arm, then passed her on to another dancer. A man this time, and someone whistled as he lifted her in a stumbling turn.

A table, Jin Ae realized dumbly. They were dancing on top of a table. 

The man boldly slipped an arm behind her back and tipped her into a dramatic dip, which drew a round of cheers from the onlookers.

Out of breath, Jin Ae began stumbling backwards, delight pouring out of her in fits of laughter. But then her boot slipped, one foot caught in the air. Wide-eyed, she stumbled backwards, ready to collide with the floor. Only to fall into a pair of strong arms, reduced to a tangle of skirt and limbs as she was carried past the crowd, who had already moved on to claim another victim who was beelining for the exit.

She pushed the messy strands of hair away from her face, “Thorin?”

They were climbing the stairs, and he was rushing, going against the stream of people who were heading down to the tavern. There was the sound of the door opening, before shutting with a loud thud. 

The silence that followed would have been deafening, if it weren’t accompanied by the sound of their breathing.

“What’s wrong?” She slurred, running her hands up his shoulder before twining them behind his neck. His hair, soft to the touch. Even through the drunken haze, Jin Ae could feel him go tense beneath her, his grip around her tightening as he brought her closer to his chest.

"You could have hurt yourself." He huffed, an edge to his voice. 

He eased her onto the bed, propping her upright before turning to light the hearth. A migraine was working its way underneath her skull, and now that she was sitting still, it was getting harder and harder to blink away the spots from her eyes. So she willed herself to focus on the dwarf before her, watching as he carefully undid the laces of her boots.

There was something at the sight of him kneeling before her that made her think of their first meeting in the Dunlands, how he had glared at her the entire time, only to end up at her feet. A shiver slithered down her spine.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

The question had leapt out of her mouth, ringing in the empty room.

His fingers stilled. 

“You still offer to take me to Bree, even when this town has people and work and ways of getting around." She continued, speaking slowly to get her words out without stumbling on them. “And ever since you pulled me out of the water…we’ve been even. You could have left me then.”

When he finally looked up at her, the moonlight had touched his eyes, turning the blue into something vivid, like starlight trapped beneath the surface of a frozen lake. The sight robbed her of breath. And she wanted nothing more in that moment than to reach out and hold him.

“Because I swore on it.” He said, voice dripping with conviction. “ And I will not go against my word.”

“And nothing else?” She whispered, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Her pulsed thundered in her ears as she waited for his answer, fingers curling against the sheets.

When Thorin chose not to answer, choosing to remove both of her boots instead, Jin Ae tried not to seem too disappointed. While muffled, the noises downstairs continued to bleed through the wooden floors, and the room had only turned quiet for her when Thorin stood and began tugging at the knot of her cloak — his cloak, she corrected herself. One he had leant her, to shield her from the rain.

The tenderness was aching, wringing something inside of her. It was as if someone had dipped their fingers inside an old wound and undid its stitches, summoning a memory from a different life. They’d been here before, she thought, in another time. In the dark, under the shadow of a quiet room. Their breaths mingling, chest heaving, hands intertwined as —

She heard a groan.

It was Thorin. 

Her lips had found something warm, skin burning underneath her lips. The scratch of his beard made her smile against the underside of his jaw, right above his pulse point, where she could almost feel the strong thrum of his heartbeat.

Thorin gripped her by the shoulders, yet he gave her no signal to stop, so she trailed her lips down, ending above his collarbone that peeked out the low collar of his tunic. Then she was being pushed down the bed, pressed against the sheets, his breath ghosting above her cheek. 

“What are you doing?”

He sounded strained, the timbre of his voice sending goosebumps down her skin.

They were chest to chest, and the weight of his body on top of her lit something in her, nerves coming to live at the contact. Her body was screaming with want, hands trailing down his hair. 

Yet she continued to gaze at him, roaming every inch of his face, for this was the closest they’d ever been. She skimmed his eyes and trailed down his nose, fingers migrating to the strong curve of his jaw. Thorin fluttered his eyes shut, leaning into her touch. For a fraction of a second, she saw someone else, someone she had no right searching for in him. But it was too late. The alcohol had loosened her tongue, and the words had tumbled out of her mouth before she could control herself.

“I’ve missed you.” She exhaled, eyes stinging.

Thorin went still. His face twisted—not in anger, but as if something inside him had torn. 

Thorin pulled himself away, "you mistake me for someone else, healer."

When Jin Ae tried to follow, pushing herself upright, a wave of dizziness hit her like a slap. The world tilted sharply, and she dropped back down with a groan. So she latched onto his hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“I’m sorry. Stay” She said softly.

They looked at each other in silence. Thorin's face was unreadable again, his mask pulled back into place. But she couldn’t get rid of the flicker of pain she’d seen—even if just for a heartbeat. 

By the time Thorin replied, sleep had carried her halfway, so his words were lost on her, already out of reach. The last thing Jin Ae remembered was the sheets pulled over her and the quiet sound of someone unrolling a mat nearby.

People told Jin Ae she talked in her sleep. Her father said she’d cry, often waking up with tears down her neck, eyes red as they open. He said she spoke in English, so there was no way for him to relay any of it back. One time, she had opened her eyes to Thorin watching her, her throat hoarse as if she’d spent the night muttering, and at that point, they were barely halfway through their journey — she wasn’t comfortable enough to ask the man she found in the woods what she was saying in her sleep.

Hence, Jin Ae was never sure of whether she spoke in her sleep or not. Moving, on the other hand, she could vouch for. Often, she’d dream of reaching out for a hand, waking up to her fingers clenched to fists. Sometimes, she’d wake up to her arm sprawled across the space next to her, as if trying to hold, to grasp what was once there. 

So when she woke in the middle of the night with her head still spinning and throat feeling like sandpaper, she wasn’t too surprised to find that she’d migrated from the left side of the bed to the far right. Her right hand dangling off the mattress. 

She curled her fingers, slowly stretching them down to blindly search for the dwarf sleeping below. Drawn to the warmth, her forefinger brushed his wrist. Faintly, softly. 

And when she drifted back to sleep, lulled by the absence of sound during the twilight zone between night and dawn, it was hard to shake off the way he pulled his arm back, the sound of clothes rustling signalling that he had turned to face the other way. 

Even with her head throbbing and bile threatening to rise out of her throat, Jin Ae was quick to remember what happened last night. Memories rushing to the forefront of her mind like early tides crashing onto the shore. She looked around weakly, blinking away the spots in her eyes.

Her thermos was propped up by the bedside table, next to a plate of bread and berries. She carefully twisted the lid open, neurons waking at the smell of ginger. She tore through the bread and sipped her tea slowly to not burn the roof of her mouth. The berries were sweet, a bit sour the way that reminded her of the candies she used to eat to keep herself awake during graveyard shifts.

Once she finished breakfast, Jin Ae took her time to gather herself, scanning her surroundings. The room was tidy, the hearth long extinguished while grey light poured through the window. The thin veil of clouds made her unsure of the time, and she only noticed it was barely noon when she saw people outside the window starting their day. She also saw Karkith by the stables, where an unmistakable figure stood next to him, talking to the stableboy. 

The guilt twisted in her empty stomach like a knife. She rested her head against the bed frame, relieving the feel of his fingers around her wrist, pinning her, holding her. She clung onto the press of his body, the look in his eyes as she held him. The hurt in his eyes, haunting her even after she splashed cold water on her face, and she couldn’t bear to look at her own reflection on the surface of the basin, moving to get dressed.

Since she fell asleep in her dress, Jin Ae decided she’d have to wear her windbreaker and trousers. She no longer had Thorin’s cloack, so maybe if she moved out of the tavern fast enough, no one would bump into her wearing her ‘modern’ clothes this early. But then she caught a flash of blue by the stool.

It was a dress, no doubt made of wool. But when she pinched the material between her hands, it was smoother, thinner, no doubt easier to move in once she put it on. It had no frills or fine threads, which made it practical, hanging loose at the shoulders and cinched with a simple cord at the waist. There was a note next to it.

“ Yer man stopped by earlier, said he was lookin’ tae get ye a dress. Bit of a coincidence, eh? I tried talkin’ him into somethin’ a wee bit prettier, but he said it had tae be practical, wi’ the road ahead and all. Hope this suits ye, lass. All the best tae the both o’ ye. ”

Her hands trembled. He had no way of hearing her conversation with the women last night, and the image of Thorin, waking up before dawn to look for a clothier, lodged something small and sharp beneath her ribs. She placed the card inside her bag, wiping the stray tear that had trailed down her cheek. 

Stupid. She thought to herself. I was so stupid.

She slung her bag over her shoulders and did her best to fold the sheets, putting on her shoes and coat before descending the stairs as quietly as possible. The innkeeper caught a glimpse of her, barely looking up from her parchments to gesture towards the stables, “he’s been waiting for you. Better get going.”

She gave a quiet thank you, stepping outside into the clean air. It was a short walk, for the stable was tucked beside the inn, a small timber structure with a sagging roof that still had raindrops from the previous night trickling off it. 

The scent of hay and old leather welcomed her, hanging thick in the air. A few stalls lined the inside, each just big enough for a horse or two, with worn blankets draped over the railings and tack hanging neatly on pegs.

Jin Ae found Thorin and the stableboy. The dark-haired dwarf regarded her silently, nodding his head at her before continuing his conversation with the boy. That alone was enough to make her feel sick, stomach-churning as the two backed Karkith out of the stall. And when Thorin looked at her again, she almost missed how he was gesturing to her bag, letting him take it so he could mount it atop the pony. 

As she waited, she noticed the stableboy staring at her, wide-eyed, with his cheeks dusted pink. The boy couldn’t be older than sixteen, tall and lanky, awkwardly looking at her. She gave him a small smile, trying to be kind, which only deepened his blush.

“Eyes to yourself, boy.”

Thorin’s voice cut through the air, and the boy flinched, no doubt startled. And Jin Ae would have thought Thorin was upset if she didn’t catch the playful smile on his face as the teenager darted his eyes around, limbs moving in panic to grab hold of the reins and guide the horse to the path. His head bent low as he passed by her. 

Once he left, Thorin stood with both hands behind his back, meeting her gaze evenly, with no trace of emotion in his eyes. She braced herself for what was to come, already taking into account the possibility of his anger, how hurt and betrayed he must have felt at that moment, even if she had yet to grasp nor understand what they felt for each other.

“How do you fair?”

He spoke to her softly, voice unbelievably kind.

“B-better.” Caught off guard by his question, she shifted from one foot to another, “ the tea helped. Thank you for breakfast. And for the dress.”

He nodded curtly, lips pulled tight. 

“Thorin.” The words came out rushed, trembling in the cold morning air. Jin Ae was sure her heart would collapse if they were to continue as if nothing had happened. She thought of ripping the bandaid right there and then.

“ About last night. I’m so —”

“We have a whole day’s journey ahead of us if we are to make it to Bree on time.” He announced, cutting her off before walking towards Karkith. Before them, the city was starting to wake, where merchants and shopkeepers were welcoming their first customers of the day. 

She held her tongue, opting to let him help her atop the horse. His eyes lingered on her dress as he placed both hands on her waist, boosting her up the pony. And his fingers didn't linger this time, pulling away quickly to haul himself up.

In the beginning, Jin Ae had placed her hands behind her, gripping the back of the saddle to keep her distance. Yet she found out very quickly that that was impossible, considering that they had to race through the terrain. And as the months progressed, they had found their way across his shoulders. A show of trust, a gesture of gratitude, for he was the only figure that gave her certainty in a world so different and new. 

Now, she wasn’t sure what was left between them, having ruined it all in one night.

Inhaling, she tentatively placed both hands across his wolf pelt, signalling to him that she was ready. Thorin said nothing, giving Karkith a nudge and starting the end of their journey.

They had stopped by the side of a small stream to collect some water and read the map. While Thorin busied himself with the compass behind her, Jin Ae decided to look through her backpack. It almost felt like going through a time capsule, a treasure chest of trinkets that were now useless  — her makeup bag, phone, sunglasses. She kept the last object in her hands, aware of the irony of splurging on a pair of designer sunglasses only to be transported to a world where it meant nothing.

Then she moved on to her wallet, another expensive gift she had rewarded herself with, and she had long forgotten what the occasion was. She unfolded the small trifold purse, skimming the sections for cash, credit cards, and ID. Her driver’s license, residence permit and MasterCard all stared back at her in silence, and she had the urge to chuck the deadweight into the water. But there was still hope, she reminded herself. There must be a way for her to get home.

And if she did make it home, what then?

She imagined herself walking out of the woods, assuming that she returned to the last place she was before she ended up here, heading for the bus stop that rests by the foot of the mountain. She pictured herself walking up to the driver and purchasing a ticket to the intercity terminal before sitting right behind him, reeling from the mundane interaction, wondering if she could ever slip back to normalcy. 

She could almost picture the events that would follow, as if she'd already lived through them. First, she'll reunite with her appa, shed a few tears, and fly back to her city, where her empty apartment will be waiting. Next, she'll fall back into the same pattern she'd been stuck in for months before coming to see her dad: she'll crawl under the covers, sleep in a bed that's painfully too big for one person, and drink herself stupid until she wakes on the bathroom floor, body sore, stomach in knots.

Or maybe she'd close her eyes and wake up back here, wet leaves underneath her palms and the familiar sight of Thorin with his map open, staring into the distance.

Would that be so bad? A part of her wondered. And Jin Ae had never felt more appalled at herself, moving to tuck the wallet back into her bag when something fell out. 

It was a photostrip, and she picked it up quickly from the ground, afraid that the dampness would ruin it. She turned it around and felt her breath hitch.

It was a picture of them. 

They were on their first date. He had taken Jin Ae to a restaurant, and just across the street stood an old photo booth, vintage, rundown, the kind you’d assume no longer worked. She’d doubted it even functioned. They had to cram inside the tiny space, and with his height, Michael—she reeled at the name, having avoided it for so long—had no choice but to bend down and squeeze in beside her. 

They pulled silly faces for the first two shots; she remembered laughing, swatting his shoulder, telling him to take at least one seriously. But in the final frame, something shifted. She looked straight ahead, but he was watching her, his eyes glossy, full of something like quiet adoration. Even in black and white, he looked so alive.

The picture pulled at her chest like the soft drag of a tide, slow but unrelenting, squeezing a small sob out of her. She hid the picture just as Thorin approached her, quickly wiping away the small tears and straightening herself. 

Damn it , she thought to herself. When did I become such a mess?

Thorin was watching her, and he looked concerned, if not also somewhat hurt. She wasn’t sure if that was just a reflection of her sadness or if it came from a place of understanding.

If he could see her grief and recognise it, even when they were so different.

“I’m really sorry about what happened the other night.” Jin Ae spoke, hoping that he wouldn’t interrupt her. They had rode in silence for two days now, and even if she was used to Thorin’s lack of words, it felt different this time. Things were strained, and wounds were inflicted. Jin Ae didn’t know how much longer she could bear it.

“I…it was a mistake. I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have gotten drunk or kissed you —”

He bristled at that, but Jin Ae pressed on, looking at her hands. “ It was selfish of me. I’m sorry if I hurt you. You’ve been nothing but kind to me and what I did was cruel. So, I understand if you’re upset.”

She debated on whether she should show him the picture. If she should tell him that this whole time he wore the face of the very same man she’d been grieving, but decided against it last minute. He had a family to return to, people that needed taking care of and a life to continue.

Jin Ae had no right to insert herself in it.

So she waited for his answer, listening to the sound of the water rushing in the river.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, the closest thing to a laugh he ever let out around her.

Jin Ae snapped her head upwards, eyes wide as he cleared his throat. There was a smirk, and the surgeon would have leapt up and shook him by the lapels if he hadn’t lowered himself next to her.

"You forget yourself, healer.” His eyes followed the reeds as they swayed in the breeze. “We dwarves are not so easily wounded."

She exhaled, feeling her trembling fingers still. "You're not angry?"

When he turned to her, his gaze softened. "You are young, and you are grieving. In truth, I did not expect you to remain this composed for so long. One day, you are mourning the loss of someone dearest to you, someone you considered to be your home. The next, you are cast out into a strange place, alone with your hurt.”

He paused, his voice quieter. "I know what that feels like."

She blinked, unsure she'd heard him right. 

She realised then that the person before her was not the same dwarf who had pointed his knife at her or had doubted her and narrowed his eyes at her in distrust. This was Thorin, speaking to her as a prince who was exiled, who was robbed and driven away from his home. A king who had endured more in one lifetime than she ever could. A man who understood loss more deeply than anyone she’d ever known. And now she saw him clearly, why he was so kind to her. Why Tamrok had entrusted her with him. 

Why he, above anyone else, was the one who could take her safely to Bree.

Relief washed over her, and her shoulders sagged as she wiped a few stray tears that were now streaming down her cheeks. 

“I’m twenty-eight. I’m not that young,” she laughed, sniffing as she rubbed the sleeve of her coat against her face. 

“That age is nothing for a dwarf.” He replied, folding his arms. “You still have much to learn.”

“You’ve said that already,” she rolled her eyes playfully, already smiling. “ How old are you anyway?”

“Older than you.” He stood, stalking off to Karkith, who had grown bored and was now approaching the family of swans.

“ Forty? Fifty ?” She guessed, trailing after him. He raised an eyebrow at her, and a half-smile played on his lips.

Her brows shot up. “You’re sixty ?”

“Flattery does not suit you.” He shot back, and Jin Ae couldn’t stop the shrill in her voice as she shouted.

“Oh my goodness, you’re seventy ?”

“Get on the pony.”

It was morning when they arrived in Bree. They had skipped past the small settlements leading up to the city in hopes of getting there as quickly as possible. Even though the last weeks of winter were giving way to wet rain before spring, Thorin told her it was very likely that it still snowed heavily in the higher areas. That conflict would only have escalated with the onslaught of rain, and he was already late to meet his nephews.

"I trust Filí with matters of diplomacy, but he has yet to learn how to think swiftly when problems arise. Kilí is quick on his feet, but he lacks the patience and the interest for such affairs. I do not doubt that they have made progress, but I will not leave them to it for too long.”

She leaned close to the side of his shoulder, listening to him speak as Karkith trekked through the tall grass. The Greenway wound northward through gentle hills and scattered woodlands, its path narrow and half-lost beneath grasses and creeping weeds. She could already see the city of Bree in the distance, smoke rising from the cluster of buildings as it stood atop the hillock. 

“It sounds like they complement one another. I’m sure they’re holding off pretty well, so long as they’ve got each other’s backs.” Jin Ae replied. “ Are they close?”

Thorin scoffed, “ Stone and steel are not more firmly joined.”

“That’s sweet,” she smiled. “And will the three of you return to the Blue Mountains once business is done?”

“We do not travel together unless we must. Should we be ambushed, the loss would be too great." His expression grew stern, and Jin Ae didn't have to ask to know that he was thinking of the incident in the Dunlands. 

"I will take the first leave. I do not doubt that once this matter is settled, another will rise to take its place. Filí and Kilí are tasked with escorting the traders and their caravans from Combe to the Blue Mountains. They will depart later and remain longer."

“Will you be alright? Travelling alone?” Jin Ae asked.

"Just because you saw me brought low once, that does not mean I cannot stand on my own." He said firmly, before glancing sideways, a small smile replacing his frown. "I will manage."

As they drew closer, Jin Ae could see the rise of rooftops and timber behind a hedge and gate, right before the road straightened, flanked by fields gone grey with the winter. Crows wheeled overhead, and two guards stood by their posts, bearing short swords and battered shields slung across their backs.

One of the guards asked Thorin what his business in town was, clad in worn leather and patched mail. They only let them through once Thorin showed them a contract with a deep blue seal on it, closing the gates as soon as they’ve been through.

“Is it always like this?” She turned around, taking one last look at the guards. “They seem on edge.”

"They are right to be vigilant," Thorin replied, frowning, "Bree may be small, but where coin flows freely, such places are seldom free of trouble."

They rode deeper into town, which was a patchwork of stone and timber buildings whose sloping roofs were covered in moss, no doubt from years of rain and wind. Narrow lanes twisted between homes and shops, most with lanterns hung outside, not yet lit. The air carried the scent of damp earth, smoke, and something faintly herbal. She turned her head and saw the Prancing Pony, deducing that it must be the smell of their brew, where laughter and murmurs crept through shuttered windows even in daylight.

It was clear he had travelled this road many times before, likely to oversee trade or attend to matters related to the Blue Mountains.

They ventured inside one of Bree’s quieter lanes, stopping before an old building. The apothecary looked more like an old cottage than a place of healing, green ivies curling along one side of the thatched roof. A hand-painted wooden sign hung above the door, bearing the drawing of a mortar and pestle. Jin Ae could hear muffled noises coming from behind the door. 

Thorin dismounted first, helping her down. And just as her feet reached the ground, the door of the apothecary burst open, startling Jin Ae backwards. In an instant, Thorin had an arm out in front of her, the other reaching for his sword.

A dishevelled-looking man stood before the doorway, his hair wild and frizzy, grey to its roots even if he didn’t look any older than his forties. He had an apron tied around his waist, the white cloth stained with fresh blood.

The man narrowed his eyes at them, pushing his specs up the bridge of his nose with the back of his palm. “ We’re a bit busy at the moment if you haven’t seen the sign on the door.”

“There is no sign on the door,” Thorin replied, challenging the man’s glare with his own.

“Argh,” the man huffed, turning his head towards the doorway. “ Finn! You forgot the sign !”

“S-sorry, sir !” A voice squeaked back.

A pained wail erupted from inside, and Jin Ae craned her neck to catch a glimpse of what was happening. But her view was swiftly obstructed by the man, who had stepped towards her line of sight after noticing what she was doing.

“You need help.” She said matter-of-factly.

“You’re mistaken.” The man countered with a tight-lipped smile.

“We do !” A desperate voice — who she assumed was Finn's — argued from inside. 

The man placed a hand on his forehead, sighing. “And who might you people be?”

“I’m a physician.” She gestured to the stain in his apron, “Do you have a patient with you at the moment?”

His face shifted to curiosity. “What business do you have here?”

She shed her coat, walking around Thorin and towards the man, who, upon closer inspection was without doubt a fellow doctor. They stared at one another, and Jin Ae tipped her chin up to meet his eye level. “Let us help. We’ll answer any questions you have after.”

“Yes please!” The same voice cried out. She gave the doctor another look, and he ran a hand through his hair, muttering a few words under his breath before stepping aside. 

She went down the short corridor, where the sounds escalated into fits of grunting, followed by the clanging of objects as they clatter onto the floor. She took a sharp turn and saw a man lying atop the table, bowls of herbs and bandages scattered all over the place. A young man was desperately trying to pin him down as the patient writhed in pain, and Jin Ae smelled the wound before she even saw it.

The skin of his forearm had been peeled back like a sleeve, exposing blood-soaked muscle and tendon. A leather belt was wrapped tightly around the raw bone and flesh.

“How did this happen?” She asked, kneeling to fish out her kit.

“He fell off his horse and got caught in the reins as it bolted,” the young man explained, doing his best to pin the larger man’s shoulder down, who continued to thrash and twist on the tabletop.

Jin Ae located the sink and started scrubbing her hands. Fiercely, as thoroughly and as quickly as she could with the bar of soap.

“Pin him down,” she said to the footfalls behind her. “Now!”

Thorin moved quickly, helping Finn pin the man by his chest while the doctor wrangled his arm and kept them still. 

"Antibiotics. Something to clean the wound." Jin Ae demanded.

"On the table. The salve to your left." The doctor instructed. 

She generously applied the concoction on her fingers. It reeked of onion and garlic, yet coarse in texture. Jin Ae recognised it as salt, rubbing it directly into the open wound. The man screamed, nearly toppling over the table. 

“Have you administered painkillers?”

“Yes,” the two said in unison.

“B-but it hasn’t settled yet.” The apprentice added, eyes darting over to his teacher. 

“We don’t have time.” Jin Ae huffed, pinching the torn and thin edges of the skin hanging off his forearm. “We have to see how deep it goes.”

She began to pull.

The skin peeled itself from the muscle with a slow, wet sound. The man let out a guttural yell, but her fingers remained steady, and beneath it, the bright, red muscles twitched like worms in the sun. Tendons no doubt quivering in resistance. 

Someone had gagged. Even Thorin had averted his eyes.

She lifted the skin further, layer by layer, revealing yellow fat, the colour of spoilt yolk.

“No bone exposed... yet,” she muttered. “Good.”

There was a thud, and Jin Ae flickered her eyes to see that the boy had fainted. 

“If you’re looking for work,” the man sighed, turning to look at her. “Consider yourself hired.”

“It’s an avulsion injury, what we call a degloving. The underlying bone is intact, and most of the damage is soft tissue and vascular. Fortunately, a good portion of the skin is still attached and salvageable, so a temporary closure is possible.” She explained, drumming her fingers across the hand of her chair. “ It's too soon to guess how well the wound will heal. What we can do now is keep it from rotting. This will hold, maybe for a few days. If the flesh dies beneath, then we take the arm.”

Normally, she’d have a full team and a room packed with machines. The patient would come wheeled in. Hysterical. Crying. But that was good. It meant they were still breathing. One nurse would be taking vitals, another applying direct pressure. Blood would be drawn, labs sent off, and the team would wait for a cross-match. A request for CT would be sent, and if it came back showing no fractures, plastics would step in with a skin graft. 

Before she could finish her coffee, the patient would be stable, bandaged, sedated, and rolled out just in time for the next freak accident to come through the doors. 

But things were different here, so much so that it made her feel like she had taken so much for granted. 

It had taken them double the time to sterilise the wound with only boiled water and alcohol. And when they had no stitches, Jin Ae had sent Finn to grab a few strands of horsehair from Karkith — accompanied by Thorin lest the boy gets kicked halfway across town — for them to use. 

Then it was the question of dressing the damaged skin. For now, they had covered it with a dry cloth to allow some air exchange.

“Why the leather?” The doctor asked.

Once the chaos had died down, her soon-to-be employer had introduced himself as Roland. He had a long, angular face that made him come off as stern earlier when he greeted them by the door. Yet, earlier, he had held out a hand for her to shake, only to be reminded that they were both still elbow-deep in blood. He gave her an apologetic smile which made him seem more friendly, and she considered that as a good start to breaking the ice. 

“The exposed tissue will dry out and die if we don’t keep it moist. That’s how rot sets in.” She ran a hand through her hair. “ Where I’m from, we’d use sterile dressings, sealed plastic — but I doubt they exist here, so we have to work with what we have. It’s an ancient method, but it still works. Animal fat, beeswax, and even pine resin can create a barrier that holds in moisture but still lets the wound breathe a little. That balance is important. Too much air, the flesh dries out. Too little, and it festers.”

“Ancient?” He knitted his brows.

“Yeah,” she cleared her throat, gesturing to her backpack and the first aid kit laid out across the floor. “Pretty much.”

“Where are you from, again?” The apprentice asked. 

While his mentor had golden tan skin, Finn was pale and freckled, with light green eyes shining under the sunlight. One of his hands nursed a chilled bottle of wine against the bump on his head while the other furiously scribbled across his notepad, and she could tell he was embarrassed about fainting from how he didn’t want to look her directly in the eye.

“Far from here.” She was getting quite tired of the one-liner. “You wouldn’t have heard of it.”

At least Jin Ae made sure the boy knew from her face that she was apologetic about the short answer, and that was enough for him before he moved on to his next question.

“What about cleaning the wounds?”

“That salve we used will be a good start. Throw in honey and symphytum, comfrey you’d call them. I imagine it’ll do the trick.” She folded her hands, darting her eyes to the other man. “But I suppose that’s your speciality.” 

Roland let out a deep sigh.

“Most physicians, like myself, tend to internal ailments. We draw out poisons, ease fevers, and try to keep the humors in balance. But when it comes to serious wounds, our knowledge often falls short. That’s where the handworkers come in, though they’re few and far between.” He explained. 

They were gathered in a small study, where rows of books lined the shelves and crowded the floor in piles, almost in a claustrophobic way. Jin Ae’s first impression of the place was right, the place was a cottage. The living room had been modified into a makeshift clinic, and it was adjacent to the kitchen, which had been split in half to fit all the jars of herbs and tonics, turning it into a miniature apothecary. Thorin was leaning on the wall across Roland, still shamelessly studying him, brows furrowed in distrust as the doctor continued to speak.

“Most become handworkers only after years in war or long practice, and Bree, thanks to its trade, is one of the rare places where you’ll have no trouble finding them. Some even claim to have learned from the elves —” Jin Ae didn’t miss the way Thorin looked away, body tensing as he gazed out the window — “ though that may just be tavern talk. Physicians from the Shire sometimes pass through, looking to earn a bit extra. But hobbits are gentlefolk, they never accept anything worse than a scrape to the knee !”

Jin Ae was still reeling at the sudden mention of elves and hobbits — whatever they were— that she didn’t notice that Finn had refilled her cup of tea, only realising when Thorin gently nudged the back of her chair with his foot. She gave the boy a small thanks, lifting the cup to her lips as Roland finished his story.

“Still, the handworkers charge more than most folk can pay, and they tend to treat those with coins before those with need. The man we saw today was a farmer. Father of three. With winter just behind us, he likely hasn’t two pennies to scrape together, certainly not enough for the sort of care that wound would have required. And unfortunately, as you can see, we are a bit understaffed.”

“We wouldn’t have been able to do it without your help,” Finn added, grinning ear to ear. “You came just in time.” 

"Timely indeed," Thorin said, speaking for the first time since they entered the room. He sounded suspicious, and it was the first time in months that he cast her a distrustful look. Though she hated to admit it, Jin Ae felt as if everything had aligned with such precision that it was uncanny. Almost unsettling. But she pushed those thoughts aside, choosing to focus on the sounds rousing from down the hallway.

They had kept the door slightly ajar, and she could hear bedsheets rustling, followed by a small groan from downstairs. Their patient had fainted from the pain earlier on in the procedure, and suddenly Jin Ae was reminded of Freyr, wondering how the boy was now fairing. The latter was a dwarf, who, to her very little understanding, had higher tolerance to pain and stronger endurance when it came to healing—a supernatural concept she was still having trouble wrapping her head around. But the injured farmer was human, and Jin Ae could not begin to imagine the nightmare of having to recover from an amputation with nothing but herbal and homemade remedies.

Finn excused himself to check on the patient, while Roland pushed himself off the wall to sit across her on the other chair.

“You’re not a warrior, and you’re certainly not old enough to be a handworker by experience, so I can only assume you had a rather expensive education,” he said frankly. “I’ll be honest: we can’t afford you. There are better houses of healing just down the street that’d gladly pay three times what I can. But if you stay, you’ll do good work here.”

He slid a makeshift contract toward her. Jin Ae studied it carefully, noticing that Thorin was leaning over her shoulder.

“What say you? Finn’s a student. I give him five per cent of my share and a place to sleep. I’ll offer you ten percent, plus room.”

“I appreciate your honesty.” Jin Ae smiled. “But I want twenty, lodging, and a termination clause. I leave when I choose.”

“Fifteen.”

“Seventeen.”

He gave a short nod. “Deal.”

She didn’t miss Thorin’s brief smile of approval.

“You chose to take me to Ronald on purpose.” She said to Thorin, “You know they needed the help.”

“I knew nothing of him. But I knew his grandfather when he was alive. There are few we can trust outside of our kin, even less outside the Blue Mountains. But word had spread through our folk that when summoned, he had not turned away our merchants the way other Men have done.” He explained solemnly, “That was what I had been counting on.”

“So you weren’t joking about being old.”

He shot her an unamused look.

It was just past noon when patients started pouring in, amongst them woodworkers and field laborers who had injured themselves during the day’s work. Thankfully, it was nothing Roland and Finn couldn’t handle, leaving Jin Ae free to walk Thorin out to the door. She took slow, small steps, wondering why her heart felt heavy knowing that this had always been inevitable.

He draped his cloak over his shoulder, carefully buttoning the top, and Jin Ae had begun fiddling with the hem of her sleeves, listening to the noises from the other room. Stalling, she realised. They were lingering by the doorway, delaying what was to come. 

“I wish there was a way for me to reach you.” She was the first to break the silence, giving him a wry smile, “I’m pretty sure after a while I’ll be able to repay you for everything.”

“There is no debt to be paid between us.” He spoke, voice low and tinged with something gentle, something that made her heart stir.

The barren branches outside swayed with the wind, already decorated with tiny buds that clung onto the branches like promises. It was the last few weeks of winter, and the flowers were eager to unfold in the pale light of spring. 

Jin Ae pulled the lighter from under her sleeve, holding it out to him.

“You already know how to use it, right?”

She hadn’t noticed it at first, thinking all the staring was because he doubted she could do the job right. But looking back on all the times she’d caught him watching her, most of it had been when she was using the lighter. That was when his ears would perk at the sound of her flicking the flint. He had been curious. He had been learning.

Because that night, in the abandoned house, when they needed a fire quickly, he’d started one without hesitation. 

The warmth of the fire and his chest against her back had burned itself against her skin. She wondered if it would ever fade, even after she returned home.

His eyes flickered to the object, “ You’re giving it to me?”

“I can imagine it’ll rain a lot in March. I heard it has a thousand uses, give or take, before the gas runs out. That’ll be enough before you reach the Blue Mountains. It’s refillable, but I don’t know if it's possible here.” 

“I cannot take it.” He sounded surprised, which in turn, baffled her. Because in comparison to everything he’s done for her, the lighter felt like such a lame gift. Underwhelming, compared to the hours they’ve spent in each other’s company, braving storms and snow. 

At least it had a pretty design. An expensive zippo lighter with a silver finish, small and rectangle, strikingly out of place in a world so earthy and natural. 

“Yes, you can.” She insisted, holding it out closer to him. “This was my dad’s. He bought it impulsively one day and decided that he didn’t want to smoke anything unless it was lit by this lighter. Before I left that day, to head for the temple, I snagged it off the table and decided that I was going to toss it into the sea on my way home.”

She turned the lighter over her fingers, tracing the lines carved along its shell. “If I make it back home. And he finds this on me, before I get the chance to chuck it into the water…I’ll never hear the end of it. I rather you have it. It’ll make me sleep better at night to know that you won’t be struggling for half an hour to light a fire under the rain anymore. Well, until it runs out.”

His expression didn’t change much, but the silence stretched just a second longer than usual, and his gaze held hers as if he’d forgotten how to look away. And when he took the lighter in his hands, their fingers brushed, and Jin Ae wished she could keep them there forever.

“ Then it is only right, if you have this.”

He took something from the front of his pack, holding her arm before slipping the material over her fingers. It was his riding gloves. They were loose and way too big for her hands, but they were beautiful, made of black and deep midnight-blue leather. Its surface bears subtle embossing of angular runes, accompanied by flowing knotwork, stitched with precision. At the cuff, a narrow band of silver encircles the wrist, set with a single dark stone — obsidian, she could only guess — glinting like a secret kept close. It was practical but also regal, with something hidden in its design. Something she would have loved to ask him, given they had more time.

“You need to stop outdoing me.” She joked, letting him slide the other pair onto her left hand. His hold lingered on her wrist, and she was sure it would have stayed if it wasn’t for Karkith neighing impatiently before them. And Jin Ae had learned from experience that Thorin needed to leave soon, lest the beast started dragging his hooves against the dirt.

“But you’ll need this, Thorin.” She reasoned, “ With the snow in the Blue Mountains.”

“We have no need for them. Our hands endure better than any fabric.” He said with finality, and Jin Ae knew there was no victory arguing with his stubbornness. 

She scrunched her nose. “Then why keep them around?”

The hard lines of Thorin’s face eased, touched by a distant memory, eyes wistful as he replied, “ They were a gift from someone I knew, long ago. She had yet to understand how we dwarves lived, but the gesture was…appreciated.”

A hint of jealousy pricked her at the image of a woman gifting him something, but she was quickly embarrassed at her reaction, ducking her head to hide the flush that had settled across her cheeks. His eyes followed her as if knowing what was inside her head, and she wanted nothing more than the door behind her back to swallow her.

Once Thorin had mounted his saddle, they shared one last look — as if they were both trying to brand this moment behind their eyelids. There was so much Jin Ae wanted to say, the words crowding her mouth. So it was a pleasant surprise that she didn’t stumble over her last words.

“Thank you, Thorin. I hope we meet again.”

This time, she wasn’t thinking of the man that had wrecked her with grief. He felt so faint, so distant from where she stood now. Instead, she thought of the dwarf before her who had unknowingly stitched her back together when she didn’t have it in herself to do so. 

“Likewise, Jin Ae.”

With that, the black mare sped down the street, shrinking smaller and smaller in the distance before vanishing from view. Leaving Jin Ae standing in the empty street alone, heart bloated and ready to burst.

Chapter Text

February TA 2940

Winter left quietly with the ice and snow, replacing the skies overhead with nothing but rain and wind. In the first week, people were getting sick due to working long hours under the downpour. And in a town flanked by hills, the flooding only made things worse. If people weren’t spreading the flu to their neighbours and children, they were either slipping against the cobbled paths or blindly driving their carriages into one another.

In the beginning, people came with only minor scrapes and bruises, nothing Roland and Finn couldn’t handle in between prescribing people tonics for their clogged noses. But in the second week, when flash floods began to appear, men would be barging into the clinic with fractured bones and swelling limbs, strings of curses pushed past clenched teeth as Jin Ae tended to them. And the most tasking part of the day was how long it took her to get the blood and the mud off her fingers.

Initially, she found it difficult to adapt, unable to work past the discrepancies between her methods and what was practised — the lack of technology, for one, was annoying. Jin Ae had always worked with machines, with monitors and sensors that showed her all she needed to know about the patient’s vitals. Each electrical beep was a signal, guiding her on where and when to cut. Without its melody, she felt like a compass without its needle, forced to navigate by instinct. It wasn’t easy to adapt with what little she had. 

Many patients had initially doubted her; some even refused treatment from a physician who still had parchments spread across her lap as she worked. But Jin Ae kept her head down, knowing that it was only a matter of time until people began to accept that in terms of technique, there was no one more precise than her. With or without technology.

Slowly, word began to spread: her patients were back on their feet in half the time it took most men to heal. Some even whispered she could switch out a broken limb for a good one—because somehow, they always mended stronger, better.

“The townsfolk have been talking,” Finn said with a laugh. “They’re saying you’re a witch.”

She shook her head, trying not to look too pleased.

“Well, I suppose that’s one way to tell I’m doing something right.”

Roland still prioritised those who needed care the most; serfs, orphans, and others who were vulnerable. But there were a handful of times when families of clergies and politicians would show up by their door with pouches of coins and the intention to cut the line. Jin Ae dealt with them quickly, for they were still obliged as physicians to tend to the sick, and she wasn't stupid enough to turn away those who had broader connections outside of the city. If she wanted to find a way home, she'd have to be smart, and within a short amount of time, not only did she have enough money to buy what necessities she lacked such as clothes, toiletries, and food, but also extra funds for the clinic to expand and restock. 

And it was through these interactions, did she get to learn more about the place she was stranded in. She had little to no time to read, and so it had been insightful to speak to people in between their treatments, even if they’re usually howling in pain.

The townsfolk called the place they were in ‘Middle-Earth’, a continent — some of them not even aware of this fact — within a larger world called Arda by most. A large percentage of the locals in town were human, like her. The race of Men they call themselves.

The rest of the lands were shared amongst different races, a few examples being dwarves, elves, and hobbits — each with their own cultures, customs, and even physiology (as demonstrated by a certain dwarf she knew).

Jin Ae had yet to meet other races in Bree despite it being a melting pot for trade, and it was easy to deduce that each race kept to themselves, only interacting with one another if necessary. Each of these places, if not all, worked under a feudal system. There was always a lord, if not a mayor. And in some cases, there were even kings, a fact she was already aware of.

And if Jin Ae needed more convincing that she was in a different time altogether, she needed only to look at the very medicine she worked with. Everything was sourced from nature, and while most plants were familiar — for example, turmeric mixed with willow bark created painkillers — at times, there were herbs she had never seen before, bearing names that sounded strange on her tongue.

During one of the terrible storms, an elderly man had wandered outside and slipped on one of the rocky pathways, badly injuring his spine. He had cried all night and with nothing to soothe him, Jin Ae was ready to operate without a painkiller when Roland had slipped a little plant in between his mouth — no doubt unable to stand any more of his misery. 

Within a few seconds, the elderly man had quieted, sinking into a deep sleep that kept him sedated until the end of the procedure. By morning, the incision she made had healed halfway, baffling the surgeon.

“Kingsfoil. We usually just toss them in the sty for the pigs. But the elves had another name for it, ” Roland admitted, wiping his specs with the clean part of his apron, “ called it Athaleas. But the healing properties of the plant remain a mystery to most, useless without their ancient knowledge.”

“But it worked.” She tilted the sleeping man sideways to show her colleague the incisions, “There’s no more blood. The wound dried overnight.”

A brief moment of silence passed between them, and in between, Roland’s face withered with doubt. As if he, himself, was unsure of what he was going to tell her.

“People say half of elvish healing comes from magic, the other faith. And if one’s heart is true and the gods grant it, you will recover.” He raised his hands, “ But I stake no claim over those words. He could just be lucky.”

“Magic?” Jin Ae scoffed, sitting back against the chair. “Luck?”

Outside, light rain swept over the town like it did most mornings, and Roland’s frown was deep with confusion. 

“You don’t believe in it?”

“We shouldn’t believe in it. We’re physicians ! Men and women of science.” She answered, suddenly on her feet and pacing back and forth. “Magic is just science we haven’t understood yet. There’s always a logical explanation for everything.”

He gave her a curious look, and once again she was reminded of how glaringly out of place she must be, that despite her best efforts to blend in, to move slowly and speak simply, the reminder continued to hang above her head.

“Then what of your arrival?”

Jin Ae cocked a brow, “What about it?”

“One would think it strange.”

Jin Ae knew it wasn’t the best decision to go around telling people about her situation, but it was natural for her employer to have questions about her — her methods, her tools and her ideas — and she saw no reason to lie to Roland, after everything he’s done for her. It was mostly because she also knew he was at least smart enough to keep it to himself, unless he risks driving away the person who's been earning more coins than him in a week than he ever did in a year.

“I told you everything I know,” She huffed, looking away. “I don’t know how and I don’t know why I ended up here. It’s — it’s like I’ve been teleported, transported from one point to another. Which is impossible — ”

“Is it?”

She shot him an incredulous look, “What are you suggesting?”

With the snow gone and more coins in her pocket, Jin Ae had gotten herself a sleeveless dress, one she wore under a dark blue cloak. Yet now she wished she had gotten herself a warmer one because suddenly the temperature of the room had dropped, turning frigid despite the fire that popped and shifted in the hearth behind them.

His silence caused Jin Ae to pause in her tracks, floorboard creaking under her feet as she hesitated. She could hear Finn upstairs making his rounds, the soft noises bleeding through the walls. 

“You think I’m here…because of magic?” She balked.

“Yes.” He replied, staring directly at her.

“No,” her answer was quick, defensive. “That’s — that’s just ridiculous.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

She opened her mouth but couldn’t give him an answer.

Jin Ae had considered several possibilities — maybe she’d inhaled some toxic gases in that cave or breathed in the spores of some hallucinogenic mushroom. One of her favourites was that she had slipped and hit her head against a rock so hard that she was now hallucinating in a coma; that somewhere out there, her body was attached to a ventilator, resisting the pull of darkness through a dream so real she had no choice but to stay and fight.

All she needed to do was wait for her body to wake, relying on the sliver of hope that something would trigger her consciousness, and any second now, she'd wake up under the white glare of the hospital lights.

But it's been months of long and endless weeks where she had been cut, bled and pushed into exhaustion. And she was still here, despite everything. Even after she fell into the ice, even after she had felt her heart tear at the sight of Thorin disappearing down the street. 

She was still here.

“What are you saying?” She asked him, hands curling on her sides.

He crossed the room slowly, thumb under his chin. “I, for one, have never placed my faith in the old gods, and my faith in magic only extends to the rare occasions where I have witnessed it with my own eyes. However, this line of work is often shrouded in mystery. A man on his deathbed may suddenly be blessed to live to a hundred. At the same time, a healthy soldier can drop dead before his sword ever sees the light of day. Even physicians cannot always have an explanation for everything.”

She pushed down the itch to tell him that, given the right equipment, modern science can fact-check that, opting with a question. “But the elves?” 

“The elves are an ancient race, older than any man. Older than Middle-earth itself.” He continued, “If you believe magic is knowledge, unseen and unknown to us, then you would be wise to seek their counsel.”

“What makes you so sure they’d help me?” She argued, crossing her arms.

“I never said they would.” He frowned sadly, “ I only ever said it is worth trying.”

She let out a shuddering breath, on the brink of laughing at the absurdity of it all. Sensing this, Roland reached his hand out to pluck a book from the shelf behind her. He dusted the cover, revealing its tattered pages.

“I do not know where you hail from. But I have seen you work. One may assume it is you who hail from a place so advanced that it is magic you practice, not medicine.” 

He handed the book to her, and inside the pages were faded, but there were handwritten notes and a crudely drawn map, heading towards the forest, past the valleys and down the rivers. 

“But you are in Middle-Earth now. The laws of nature here are not bound to what the mortal mind can or cannot perceive.” Roland stalked towards the windows, pulling back the blinds to let more light in.

His words reminded her of a simple rule she had learnt long ago, fragments of a time when she was thirteen with her hand raised in the classroom, braces peeking out of her teeth as she eagerly answered a question during physics class: an object at rest will stay at rest, and an object in motion will remain in motion unless acted upon by an external force.

Roland spoke of old gods, watchful like the trees in the Dunlands. She wondered if they were meddlesome too. If they were in the business of transporting people to places they shouldn’t be in.

Jin Ae sucked in a breath.

“Tell me where I can find the elves.”

March TA 2940

Rain had started to die down in the first week of March, and chatter about the dry season had begun to spread in the city. Some folks were dreading the heat, but the other half were happy, already sick of the wet and the cold. 

Jin Ae guessed it was the best time to travel as well, for the path was easier to navigate without all the mud, and the shade from the trees would give her better coverage when camping at night. Her fellow physicians were kind enough to help her pack for the journey ahead, no doubt thankful for her contribution to the clinic. It was a good thing that nothing Jin Ae did escaped the curious eyes of their young apprentice, and she trusted that whoever was to replace her post would learn quickly from Finn’s notes.

She packed her backpack with clothes, food, coins, and her kit, which were amongst the many things she had prepared for the journey ahead. It had taken her more than a week to make sure everything was in order, and she was delighted to see she still had money to spare after everything.  

At the mention of needing something more practical to move in, Roland had directed her to a clothier in the Shire, the only place that made dress shirts and trousers small enough for her, for it was rare that they’d make any in town for women.

“If modesty is the issue, then I don’t see why it’s strange for a woman to wear a shirt and trousers.” She reasoned, polishing the last few bites of her dinner. They sat adjacent to one another by the table, having what would be their last shared dinner together before she leaves.

“A shirt and trousers imply that a woman travels. That is what draws attention to her,” Roland said in between bites. “It is not common for men to travel alone, least of all women, who are often denied the means to defend themselves.”

“Thanks to the pride and blindness of men.” Jin Ae added, muttering the last part bitterly.

He cocked his head in agreement.

"Perhaps there was a time when men built mighty kingdoms and sailed far beyond the sight of our shores, when women too were counted among the great—pioneers, warriors, rulers. I read of it in a book once. But if such days ever were, they have long passed into shadow. I know not what has brought us to this sorry state, nor do I care to dwell on it. What I do know is that the world has grown darker, more dangerous. It is no time for folk to wander alone.” 

He shot her a knowing look.

“I’ve made up my mind.” Jin Ae stood, finality in her tone. “ I’m going.”

“Then at the very least, it eases me to know that you are travelling to meet the Elves. I hear they are different. I’ve heard it said that their women make excellent fighters, with no less grace or fury than the men. If you cannot find the answers you seek, then at the very least, you may find protection.”

“And what about the Hobbits?” She dipped her hand in the bucket and washed dishes that piled in the sink, “What are they like?”

Roland broke out into a smile, “the Hobbits are gentle and well-mannered. They keep to their hills and gardens. I've never known one to wander far beyond the borders of the Shire, they mostly keep to themselves. Yet they are kind, and too polite to question a woman travelling alone, especially one outside their race, lest they risk being thought ill-mannered.”

He helped her dry the wooden bowls, placing them back on the shelf. The light from the candles casted shadows along the walls, reminding Jin Ae that the hour was growing late, and she should switch posts with Finn soon and keep watch of the sleeping patients upstairs for the night. But the question had leapt out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

“What do you know about dwarves?”

He gave her a curious look, “Dwarves?”

“You don’t have any books on them. I never see them in town as well.” The excuse slipped past her lips coolly, and she briefly wondered if she was doing a good job in schooling her expression.

“Is this about your companion?”

Hunching, Jin Ae decided to abandon all efforts of being subtle. It was as if he had caught her flipping through the books in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep, as if hoping to come across something — anything, about Dwarves, just to satiate the longing in her chest.

 “Why does everyone know so little about Dwarves?”

“Because they are secretive folk. Always have been.” Roland replied, “They come to our cities for trade only because they need to. Otherwise, they don't take kindly to outsiders.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, seeing where the conversation was going. “He saved me.”

“I do not doubt his kindness.” He said gently, “ But should you two meet again… it would be wise to remember that the loyalty of dwarves extends only to their gold and their kin.”

“What are you trying to say?” 

He fixed her with a serious look, knowing that there was no kinder way to put the words he was about to speak. “ There are those who say the Durinfolk have carried misfortune with them ever since they lost their home. That tragedy now clings to their line. And any who stand too close may find that same shadow falling upon them.”

Jin Ae’s eyes widened, “ How did you —”

“It is not the first time that his Highness paid Bree a visit. His people rely on our trade, and he is known to oversee business at this time of the year.” Roland confessed, drying his hands with a clean cloth, “ Even without a crown, a king walks like a king.”

She narrowed his eyes at him, “And what makes you think I’d be stupid enough to choose superstition over the dwarf who saved me?”

“Folly or not, the truth remains,” He warned, “ what follows a man may find you if you stand at his side."

She studied him closely, eyes narrowed as she pushed away the urge to argue back. Yet even after months of travelling, she still knew next to nothing of Thorin and his people. 

While Jin Ae had grown accustomed to Thorin’s mannerisms, from his habits to his presence, she had foolishly spent the majority of their time together blinded by who she wanted him to be. And the moment she started seeing him as anything more than a shell of a man she once knew, he had slipped past her fingers like running water. 

Thorin is a king; he has his people and his duties. She was just someone who had delayed him from that.

Jin Ae swallowed, throat suddenly feeling like sandpaper.

“I am sorry.” Roland sighed, “ I did not mean to dampen the mood. I only meant to say that it would be wise to thread carefully.”

His words settled, and she let the silence stretch, heavy with thought.

“Can you do me a favor?” She lowered her gaze, lips pressed in thought.

He leaned in slightly, “If it is something within my power.”

“If he ever…stops by, will you tell him where I went?”

Above them, rain began to tap softly against the roof. His expression shifted, as though he meant to say something against it. Instead, he offered her a sympathetic smile. And she knew he meant it when he answered her.

“I will.”

The next morning, Jin Ae found herself standing awkwardly by the mirror as a hobbit took her measurements, trying her best to not let her eyes drift to the size of their feet. 

It was hard to ignore how they all walked around barefoot and barely reached past her waist, standing at three to four feet at best. She would have gawked if she hadn’t been eased to the height difference by a certain dwarven king (her heart sinking at the thought of him.)

Looking around, Jin Ae supposed what surprised her the most was how...calm the Shire was in comparison to Bree. It was different from most of the villages or settlements she'd come across in the countryside. Even after months of rain, the Shire's rolling hills and blue lakes still shined with colour. 

The Hobbits lived in beautiful, round houses; polished brass knobs, flower boxes, and neat paths swept clean of leaves. There were no walls or gates, and each lane wound past hedgerows and blooming gardens. It was as if they were protected within a bubble, away from the conflict and cold that was commonly found outside.

If a higher power did bring her to this world, she wondered why she couldn't have just woken up here.

The seamstress went to speak with the tailor behind the counter.

“A man’s shirt will be fine.” Jin Ae added, only to be met with a wary look from the tailor, who supposedly was a former patient of Roland’s — something about a sewing machine accident that the local Hobbit physicians couldn't handle.

While he was, no doubt, used to human men coming in and out of his shop when it was strategically located just between the borders of Bree and the Shire, Jin Ae doubted he was used to women coming in and asking for men's clothing. 

Plus, she didn't really have the time to read about polite hobbit society before waltzing in, but based on the gossip she had overheard on the way there, she could only assume selling men's clothes to a woman would break some kind of unspoken social rule. She’d wager that, in the right circles, it might even be enough to stir a bit of scandal.

So she fished out a couple of more coins and slid them onto the table. 

The seamstress's eyes twinkled, fingers twitching at her sides. Whereas the tailor held out a tentative hand towards it, his monocle slipping down his nose. Eventually, the older man shoved them in his breast pocket, no doubt still displeased about how shamelessly direct Jin Ae had been.

She sat waiting on a chair in the corner, noting how low and small it was by the way her knees were pushed up. After a few minutes, the bell above the door signalled that a customer had entered. 

Another hobbit stepped in and spoke to the tailor, who greeted him with enthusiasm, their small talk soon filling the room.

She observed the customer curiously: he had a round face and curly brown hair, and wore a rich burgundy jacket with a waistcoat beneath it, markings of a well-to-do Shire resident, likely here to pick up an order of his own.

He spotted her, eyes widening as he looked up.

He smiled sheepishly at the sudden eye contact, “G-good morning.”

She nodded back, “ Good morning.”

He shifted from one foot to another, eyes straying back to her despite how obvious it was that he was trying not to stare. She could assume that the sight of a woman sitting on a couch that was cartoonishly too small for her wasn’t something he saw every day.

“Great weather today,” Jin Ae spoke first, deciding to start with something that may ease the skittish hobbit next to her, “ spring is just around the corner.”

“Ah, yes. Winter was unusually short this year, not that I’m complaining, mind you.” He rambled, “It’s been quite nice, really, staying in with a good book by the fire. But, well... it does get a bit dull after a while, doesn’t it?”

“I agree,” Jin Ae smiled, ignoring memories from winter that began to resurface; the ice, the cabin, the teeth that nipped at her feet. A pair of arms wrapped around her by the fire, their skins warm and touching.

“Is that why you’re—” he nodded toward the bag peeking out from under her cloak, clearing his throat, “—off on a little holiday, then?”

She thought of the road ahead, of spending a night out in the woods, of wolves and thieves and orcs. This time she would be alone, without Thorin, whose absence had never rang louder. 

“More of…an adventure.” She finished, hoping that her smile did not give away how anxious she suddenly felt, the weight of what she was getting herself into was finally settling upon her shoulders. 

Jin Ae half expected the hobbit to scrunch his nose in disapproval. But instead, he let out a short, surprised laugh, eyes widening with something akin to wonder. “An adventure? I’ve never even set foot in the Old Forest! That’s—well, that’s terribly brave of you. Truly. And, er—well—I do wish you the very best of luck, miss…?”

“Jin Ae.”

His smile widened, no doubt further intrigued by her name.

“And you are?”

“Bilbo.” He outstretched his hand, “Bilbo Baggins.”

Jin Ae gave his hand a firm shake. “Thank you, Mr Baggins. Have a nice day.”

The seamstress returned with her clothes, handing over a pair of crisp dress shirts, neatly folded, rested atop a pair of beige trousers—freshly pressed, which Jin Ae accepted with a coin in between her fingers, one the woman gladly took and discreetly slipped in between her cleavage. 

When she left the shop, she bid the peaceful, green stretch of the Shire one last goodbye, before mounting her pony and heading east.

Jin Ae expected it’d take at least a month to find the elves, three if she was unlucky and five before she was going to run out of rations. But once again, luck had eerie timing. In just two weeks, the elves had found her.

Well, not before the orcs did.

“Who are you?” The elf before her questioned, “ And what are you doing in these lands?” 

From this angle, the elf towering above her seemed to radiate his own personal light, his pale silver armour glowing under the afternoon sun. Immediately, Jin Ae knew that this was no mortal man.

He wiped the orc blood from his sword like it was just another Tuesday, and glancing at the heap of orc bodies to her left, Jin Ae was glad to not be on the receiving end of that fury.

He helped her onto her feet and off the edge of the stream where the orcs had cornered her. Looking at the arrow that littered the trees, she’d hate to think about what would happen if the elves had arrived just a second later — maybe she really did have someone looking out for her.

“My name is Jin Ae. And I’m actually here for you.”

He gave her a curious smile, “ I don’t think we’ve met.”

His companions emerged from the thicket behind them, riding on great, big horses and talking to one another in a language so sweet Jin Ae would have mistook it for singing. 

“Oh, I’m sure we haven’t.” She scanned the crowd before her. “I’m looking for all of you. Elves.”

He took a step closer to her, scrutinising. “And what is of such importance that you would risk travelling into these woods alone?”

She squeezed the water out of the hem of her shirt, “ It’s a long story.”

With one swift movement, he turned to his heel and mounted his horse, extending a hand out to her.

“ And it is no short journey to Rivendell.”

It took them a week and a half to reach Rivendell, and Jin Ae knew a week and a half's worth of riding was coming to an end when they began to descend down the valley. There was a shift in the air, and Jin Ae likened it to the feeling of drifting to sleep, of entering a dream.

Silver waterfalls spilled like ribbons down the cliffs, their song weaving through the trees like whispered lullabies. The atmosphere was warm and cool all at once, and the air smelled of pine and something older — something like a memory. If Jin Ae wasn’t used to being out of her element by now, she would have collapsed out of sheer awe at the place.

An elf dressed in dark robes greeted them in elvish by the entrance, and Jin Ae was starting to feel left out of the conversation when he extended a hand to help her off her horse.

“And you are the one who wishes to seek Lord Elrond’s counsel?”

She nodded, “Yes. Thank you for bringing me here. You have a beautiful home.”

When he smiled, it felt as if a cool breeze had swept through her, and Jin Ae wondered if this was part of the elvish magic everyone speaks of.

He introduced himself as Lindir, and he told her that even if he knew her story from his friends, he wanted to hear it from her. So Jin Ae told him a summary of her journey here, everything from the Dunlands to her arrival in Rivendell, with the exception of Thorin’s identity.

While it wasn’t the wisest choice to lie to her hosts, her former travel companion had gone to great lengths to conceal his identity; she wasn’t going to let him down now.

“Dwalin, you say?” He hummed, furrowing his brows, “ I am not familiar with that name.”

“I mean, dwarves don’t really travel much outside their mines, no?” Jin Ae added.

“No,” he agreed, suspicion seeping through his voice.“ They do not.”

Once the elves had deemed Jin Ae harmless enough — a feat she was sure took no great convincing — a group of elven maids escorted her into a separate room. She couldn’t help but notice how they glided, graceful and almost effortless. They make ordinary movements such as filling the tub with water or picking up a brush look like dancing. They also spoke very little and smiled a lot, which made her even more nervous about what was to come.

By the evening, Jin Ae was clean, fed, and dressed. She couldn’t remember the last time she was this pampered. They even put some kind of perfume on her, and the scent made her think back on a memory. She thought of a certain dwarf, of his hands around her wrist and the sound of the rain against the roof of the inn.

“Jin Ae.”

The voice broke her out of her reverie. Blushing, she turned to the open doorway to see Lindir waiting for her. “ Lord Elrond is ready to see you now.”

They went down a set of corridors, and outside the trees stood tall and ancient, leaves dancing with the moon-glow. He led her down to a room filled with rows of books, and at the centre stood the elf lord dressed in clean, white robes.

If Rivendell was a jewel, then Elrond was its light, a very reflection of the comforting beauty that the valley radiated.

“Welcome, child.” He smiled warmly.

The door behind her closed, and for a second, the words died in her mouth.

“ I’m not that young, my lord.”

She winced. Maybe I should’ve started with a thank you. But he seemed to take no insult, giving her a small laugh.

“No, you are not. Forgive me, but it is seldom that we have guests within our valley who are outside our kin.”

“I take no offense. I’m flattered, Lord Elrond.” She wrung her hands together, suddenly feeling nervous. “And I'm thankful for your hospitality. Your men went through a great deal of trouble to bring me here.”

“And you went through a great deal of trouble seeking us out.”

He motioned her to follow him to the ledge overlooking the waterfall. Below them, the buildings curled out of the rock and wood, glowing softly in the twilight. Music drifted in the air, faint and dreamy, mixed with the scent of blooming flowers.

“I heard of your story.”

“Then you know why I’m here.”

He tilted his head to the side. “ Yes. But I believe it is your story to tell.”

A breeze blew past them, and at that moment, Jin Ae wished she had protested against the dress the elf maids had chosen for her, for it was thin and did nothing to keep out the chill in the air.

Maybe it was easy for elves to forget that mortals still get cold.

“Then I’ll start from the beginning.” Jin Ae nodded.

Elrond tipped his head forward, eyes glinting like blue diamonds.

“We have time.”

April TA 2940

Nearly a month has passed since Jin Ae’s arrival in Rivendell, and most of her days have been spent inside the library. Elrond had an extensive collection, ranging from topics on elven magic to witchcraft, some of which were even forbidden for her to read without the company of an elf. Jin Ae had no issue with this; she needed a translator anyway, and Lindir has proven himself to be not only a great interpreter but also good company.

Many nights, the two would stay up to discuss their theories. And seldom, elven scholars and scribes would come to pay a visit and offer their counsel. Yet despite their help, Jin Ae wasn’t any closer to finding a way home; if anything, her host was more concerned about the fact that dwarves were starting to venture outside of their territories.

“We often send our scouts to guard the mountain passes, to watch the comings and goings of Men and beasts.” Lindir explained, “We have yet to see dwarves straying off the trading routes. So if what you are saying is correct, then we have reason to believe that they seek something. Something to do with the lonely mountain.”

“Why does that concern Elrond, or the elves?”

He frowned, clearly reluctant to say more, “ If it concerns the beast that rests within the mountain, then it concerns all of us.”

He spoke no more of it after, but Jin Ae has heard whispers and noticed more and more scouts returning late from their patrols. Something is stirring in the forests, and so the valley must remain watchful.

Finding answers has taken longer than she expected it to, and Jin Ae was starting to feel guilty for indulging the hospitality Rivendell has to offer her. It seemed like all she did was wake, head to the kitchens, and lock herself in the library until Lindir dragged her to the Hall of Fire.

She had tried offering her services in the medical wing, but accidents almost never happened, and it was never anything brutal. Jin Ae guessed that was one of the perks of coming from a (technically) indestructible and immortal race.

Life continued this way for a while, until a thought struck her in the middle of the day, when she sat by the window and saw two robins perched against the tree branch.

“I have a theory.”

Lindir gently closed his book, sliding it atop the table. “Let us hear it.”

Jin Ae knew by now not to rely on what was rational, and her hypotheses were speculations at best : alternate realities, wormholes, concepts that sound straight out of a superhero comic rather than a physics textbook.

Yet the idea had been growing in the back of her mind, and it was worth taking the shot.

“Magic. I think that’s the root of our problem.” Jin Ae explained, “I don’t understand it. And I’m not going to pretend that I believe in it, because I think magic is just a way of explaining things we don’t yet understand.”

“And yet?” Her friend urged.

“And yet, I can’t help but feel like I have a purpose here. I don’t believe in coincidences. Everything happens for a reason, it's the very principle of cause and effect. ” She rambled, “Anyways, there have been some…instances during my stay here that felt too convenient for it to happen by chance.”

Lindir furrowed his brows.

Biting her lip, Jin Ae pulled her chair closer to him, “When I woke up in the Dunlands, the dwarf I met there —”

“Dwalin?”

“Y-yes,” She lied, wondering if he saw right through her.

“ Dwalin was the first person I saw when I woke up. And the circumstances at that time gave us no choice but to travel together. Thinking back, if we hadn’t met, he would’ve died in that place. And so would I. We only survived because we had each other. Each time we decided to split during our journey, something would always bring us back. Only when we reached Bree did we actually part ways.” She swallowed, throat suddenly feeling dry, “ And I can’t help but feel that… that—”

“This is not the end of your journey together?”

Sitting with the weight of her confession, Jin Ae placed her face in both palms, “ Yes. I don’t think this is the end. I feel like we’re bound in a way. I know it sounds strange, and maybe I grew up with too many fairytales. But it really does feel like…I’m brought here because of him. And he reminds me of someone I knew.”

“Someone you knew?” Lindir repeated, intrigued.

“Is that even possible?” She sighed, “ Is it possible that I’m here because of him? For him?”

The silence that followed was almost nauseating, and Jin Ae was a second from bursting into another tangent when the elf stood from his seat to walk over to the window.

One of the robins had flown away, diving into the cluster of leaves. And from behind the glass, Jin Ae could feel the warmth of the sun sinking into her bones.

“You are right. Magic is, in truth, knowledge not yet within our grasp. And it is meant only for the few to wield. Perhaps it is for the best, lest it falls into the wrong hands,” Lindir spoke, eyes pensive. “ But even power such as this has its limits. There is only one force in this world that is more complex, more mysterious, and perhaps, without limit at all.”

Jin Ae wracked her brain for answers, heart beating wildly, “ What is it?”

He smiled at her like he knew something she didn’t, something she’s yet to know.

“Love.”

June TA 2940

“What do you know about King Thorin and Erebor?”

Lindir cocked his head at Jin Ae, “ Why the sudden question?”

“I was reading a book about dwarves. About their history.” She shrugged.

They were having one of their late afternoon strolls through the gardens. Lindir believed it would take them nowhere to lock themselves inside the library for days on end, and Jin Ae wasn’t looking forward to having permanent back damage before the age of thirty.

The garden lay cradled between slender birches and moss-veiled stone, where sunlight filtered through golden leaves in dappled silence. Pale blossoms littered across the winding paths, and in the distance, several other elves are seen roaming about.

“And why were you reading about dwarves?” Lindir pressed, lowering his voice as they passed a few people.

“Because it’s been nearly two months since I’m here and I’m bored.”

It was partially true, Jin Ae thought. There wasn’t much to do in Rivendell as a guest other than reading. And she’d been reading about Thorin in secret to not raise any suspicions amongst the already paranoid elves. But most of the texts are not in the common tongue, and she knew eventually she’d have to ask Lindir for help. The only problem now was whether or not he’d cooperate.

“ I saw his name in several texts a few times, but most of them are in elvish, and I’m nowhere near proficient.” She explained, “ I’m just curious."

He stopped in his tracks, and it was at this point that Jin Ae started to regret ever bringing it up.

They stood underneath an archway, where vines climbed the stone and gave them shade to stand under.

“What are you curious about?”

“Are you just going to answer my questions with another question, because if you are, then I’ll head back to the library.” Jin Ae huffed.

A passing group eyed them strangely, and Jin Ae could see Lindir’s face crumble apologetically.

“I’m sorry.” Jin Ae sighed, “ I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“I should be the one extending my apologies,” Lindir spoke, voice heavy as he leaned closer. “ It is not every day that one is questioned about dwarves. What do you know of the fall of Erebor?”

“Enough to know that his people now live in exile.”

“What do you know of the Mirkwood elves?”

Jin Ae shook her head, “ I didn’t know elves had anything to do with the story.”

“You may already notice we elves have a...strained history with the dwarves. What passed between Thorin Oakenshield and King Thranduil remains a wound not easily forgotten. Thorin believed the elves of Mirkwood betrayed him and his family by not answering his call for aid during the sacking of Erebor. Yet one cannot blame Thranduil for not wanting to risk his kin against dragon fire.”

His eyes darted around. “ At some point in time, the dwarves tried to reclaim Khazad-dûm from the orcs. Thorin lost both his father and grandfather in said battle, but upon seeing that his father’s body was never found, he has never stopped searching for Thrain since.”

Beside them, small waterfalls dipped into clear pools, their surfaces unbroken but for the occasional ripple of a dragonfly's wing.

“But Elrond thinks there’s more to his searches.”

“Yes.” He paused, studying her. “And I think you haven’t been entirely truthful.”

She could feel her pulse quicken, “ I —”

“Lindir.”

An elf in full armour stood before them, and Jin Ae murmured a silent thanks to whichever spirit orchestrated the intervention. He said something in Elvish, and immediately Lindir excused himself, not before giving her a look that warned the conversation was not over.

Suddenly, Jin Ae realised that a commotion was stirring. People were starting to retreat towards the gates, and Jin Ae followed with hurried steps, following the resounding blare of a horn as it cut through the valley.

There was a cluster of noises — protests, yelling, shouting — which were almost never heard of within the tranquil gorges. And there was a familiar voice, one that made her glad to have put on her trainers underneath her dress that morning.

She sprinted past a small crowd that huddled right behind one of the big staircases, and it was there that she saw Lindir and Elrond greeting a group of people. Her eyes searched through the throng, hoping, wishing.

If a version of her from half a year ago were to see herself now, she would be shaking her head in disbelief — when has wishing ever worked for her ? Yet things were different here. Here, she had a talent for speaking things into existence.

Because there he was, standing in the centre. Blue eyes shining like metal.

Thorin.

Chapter Text

June TA 2940

In the mornings, Rivendell sat at the crest of the valley like a jewel of a crown. The light would pierce the trees and dye the stone paths in different hues of gold, reminding Jin Ae of sapphires as they glitter under the sun. Yet the spring evenings run cold, and as the sun sinks, deep shadows creep upon the buildings and paint the night indigo. Such beauty was not lost on Jin Ae. 

It was just a shame that even in paradise, she was still restless. 

Her favorite thing about Rivendell was that even in the late hours of twilight, the valley of Imladris remained alive with the song and light, echoing from the Hall of Fire to the lowlands. 

It made her feel less alone.

“Trouble sleeping?”

Flinching, Jin Ae eased herself back against the wall. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”

“It wasn’t my intention.”

Lindir looked at her for permission. Only when she nodded did he lower himself slowly onto the marble bench next to her. It was at this moment that Jin Ae realised she’d never seen Lindir out of his crisp black robes. She briefly wondered if it was part of a uniform or if he just had a favorite color. 

Either way, she suddenly felt underdressed ; barefoot in just a sleeping cotton gown and a coat.

In her defense, she wasn’t planning to be seen by anyone. The hour was late, and she couldn’t sleep.

She wasn’t surprised Lindir wasn’t asleep; he was known to work late. One can only guess it was no easy feat to keep up with Elrond, no matter how gracious he is as a ruler. She was, however, surprised to find him here, a place she had claimed as her very own secret spot. A small alcove hidden under a curtain of overgrown ivy in one of the smaller gardens. 

She assumed no one knew it existed from how unkept it was, and maybe because it was on the edge of the East quarters, away from the main halls and not really en route anywhere.

But maybe that was presumptuous on her part; this was, after all, his home. 

“Why do you hide here?”

She shrugged, “ Everyone needs a place to run away to sometimes. Am I taking your spot?”

He gave her a smile, “no.”

“How did you know I was here?”

He folded his hands calmly on his lap, “One of the guards saw you come here. I was surprised when I heard.”

The tall grass swayed with the wind, hypnotic under the moon looming above. 

“ Why is that?”

“This too, was where Lady Arwen went to hide.”

“Elrond’s daughter?” 

She’d heard of the princess, though never seen her. One of the elf maids had mentioned that Arwen had gone to live with her grandmother — the Lady of Lothlórien — in a more beautiful and older elven realm, deep within the woodlands north of the Misty Mountains. 

Elrond had sent word to her ladyship about Jin Ae, stating that if all else failed, she would be their last resort. Still, Jin Ae knew not to expect too much. A woman of such standing was likely preoccupied with greater and more important matters.

“Yes.” He smiled fondly. 

Only then did it strike her that Lindir must have raised the princess himself, considering that he had been with Elrond and his family for thousands of years. How old was this garden ? She suddenly thought ? These walls and these trees ?

“What was she hiding from?”

Jin Ae was finding it difficult to picture a lot of things, such as elves ever needing to run from anything. And the princess, her father, and even Lindir, as children. She has yet to see any running about, and for a while, the absence of any signs of aging had unsettled her. 

It was as if the entire place stood still like a painting, unmoving against the current of time.

Maybe she was frozen in time, too. Stuck in a place that’s not quite real.

“Her father, in moments of playfulness… and at times, after harsh words had passed between them.” He smiled before his face crumpled, struck by an unpleasant memory. “ She came here most often after her mother, the Lady Celebrían, sailed from Middle-earth.”

“ What happened?”

Sorrow flickered in his eyes like a shadow. “ A terrible act of cruelty was wrought upon her by the enemy, and though her body endured, her spirit was never mended. It is a sorrow we have all yet to forgive ourselves for.”

“I’m sorry.” Jin Ae placed a tentative hand on his shoulder — which, she recently discovered, was as far as elves go for affection.

“For years, Lady Arwen would tend to this garden with her grief, each seedling an attempt to soothe the wound inside of her. There were days when her father and I feared she would never leave, that she would become as rooted as the trees she tended.”

“Then why leave the garden wild? It's a waste to let her hard work go…” she gestured around, “to this. I bet it was beautiful”

“It was. But oftentimes, there is grace in letting go.”

He drew a long breath, “It was Lady Arwen’s final wish before she left, that this garden be closed to all. Some believe the choice was made because remembering was too painful. But I believe she chose to honor both herself and the memory of her mother by leaving.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, listening to the music in the distance muffled by the overgrowth.

“What ails you?”

Jin Ae twisted her hands together, and her hesitation didn’t go unnoticed.

“You do not have to share your troubles with me if you do not wish to.” He explained.“But if something is ailing you, you must at the very least let our healers know. They are amongst the very best.”

She smiled at that. “ You’re fussing all over me like a mother hen.”

“Or maybe I am just worried about my friend.”

Inhaling the cold, clean air, Jin Ae ran her fingers through her hair. It was starting to touch her shoulders now.

“What’s bothering me can’t be cured by medicine. Believe me, I tried.”

She could feel him watching her, waiting.

“You know what I think is one of the worst feelings in the world?”

Lindir shook his head.

“Not being able to get a good night’s sleep.” She rubbed her face, feeling the puffy skin underneath her eyes. “ It’s pure torture. Mentally and physically, it feels like your body’s rotting slowly on the inside. I never knew how badly I was sleeping until I met someone who made falling asleep so easy. He made everything in the world feel right. Safe.” She exhaled a shaky breath, trying to keep her voice steady. “ And then I lost him. And now it feels like my body can never rest again.”

A cool breeze drifted through the trees, rustling the leaves with a whisper.

“For a while, I used to take medicine to sleep. But the deeper I sleep, the more I dream. And I couldn’t stand waking up alone.” She leaned her head back, letting it rest against the stone wall. “ But then I suddenly found myself here. And every time I opened my eyes, he was there. Always. And — and he’s real and alive. For the first time in a long time, I can sleep again.”

Lindir’s eyes widened before softening in understanding. “You are talking about your dwarven companion.”

She whispered her next few words, afraid of the confession. “ I miss him.”

A pang of guilt seized her heart. Missing him felt like letting go of her previous life, her grief, and the love that came with it. 

She wasn’t sure if she was ready to. 

If it took Lady Arwen centuries to overcome her heartache, Jin Ae didn’t know she stood a chance.

Sensing her distress, Lindir looked at her the way he usually does before dropping life advice that can only be earned through a minimum of three thousand years of being alive.

“Often, we insist on remembering the past in fear of forgetting the ones left behind. The same way we resist sleep in fear of waking, and finding that the pain from yesterday is still with us today.” 

He rose to his feet, walking closer to a cluster of wild, yellow daffodils. Dawn was breaking in the distance, and she could hear the first few songs of the blackbirds from above the trees.

“But that pain is not for you to cling to, mellon nín. It is for you to let go. Grant yourself the kindness to begin again.”

“But what if I’m never going to see him again?”

Lindir smiled, and it gave her a strange feeling of hope. Because if he had endured an endless life, full of loss and change, and could still smile, then perhaps not all is lost for her.

“What is meant for us will always return. It is only a matter of time.” Lindir gestured for her to follow. “Which is why you must sleep. Who knows, it could be any day now.”

“Don’t joke about that stuff.” Jin Ae scoffed.

“ I do not jest. But I believe you said it is the Valar that has a sense of humor.”

“Yeah.” She smiled, “ But it's not like the ‘Valar’ is going to make him show up on our doorstep.”

Jin Ae wondered if this was what it felt like to be haunted.

The days after she and Thorin parted ways were difficult, as much as she didn’t want to admit it. It felt like someone had rewinded a tape, and she had to relive the first few days of mourning all over again. If she hadn’t kept her hands busy, she would have surely buckled.

Because grieving was messy, it brought out all the ugliness in her — she became temperamental, withdrawn, reclusive. One time she had snapped at Finn for simply giving her the wrong tool. She spent an entire weekend taking his shifts to make up for it.

Having to end the day replaying the sight of Thorin drifting further and further away from her line of sight was enough to drive any sleep away for the night. And during the day, she’d see him everywhere, from the corner of the windows to every single dark-haired patient with his back turned to her. 

To deal with this, she developed a terrible habit of pinching herself to snap out of it. And this little remedy worked.  

Up until now.

The skin of her wrist was already red, yet Thorin was still there; cobalt eyes defiant as they glared at Lindir.

She had never seen that much rage in him. It cast a shadow across his face that made him almost unrecognisable.

“Mithrandir.” 

Lindir turned to the tall figure beside Thorin, an elderly man cloaked in grey.

“Ah, Lindir.” He greeted back, “ I must speak with Lord Elrond.”

“My Lord Elrond is not here.”

“Not here? Where is he?”

As if on cue, Lindir’s role as a mediator was cut short when Elrond and his troops arrived and began circling the smaller group; great, big stallions pounding their hooves against the white stone. 

The atmosphere that followed reminded Jin Ae of the first few seconds before rain, when the air was tight with the promise of thunder. Yet just when she thought things were about to escalate, the man stepped forward to greet Elrond. They exchanged a few words in Elvish, and it was at this moment that Thorin began to scan the area. 

Several of the spectators had already retreated, either bored or aware that it wasn’t in their place to eavesdrop. But Jin Ae remained, heart racing against her ribcages.

“Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders.” Elrond announced, “ Something or someone has drawn them near.”

“Ah,” the tall man chuckled nervously. “That may have been us.”

“Welcome, Thorin.” Elrond greeted, “Son of Thrain.”

“I do not believe we have met,” Thorin replied coldly. At the sternness of his voice, Jin Ae thought back on what Lindir had told her about the relationship between elves and dwarves.

“You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled Under the Mountain.”

“Indeed? He made no mention of you.”

Jin Ae winced at his response. Thorin looked angrier, meaner. She wondered if something had happened during the time they were apart.

After another argument — sparked by the use of elvish around them — Thorin and his party were finally ushered inside, much to the exiled king’s reluctance. Jin Ae took this opportunity to rush back to her room, taking the long route that circled the library to avoid being seen.

It was too soon, and he didn’t look like he was in the mood for any more surprises.

“Jin Ae.”

She stopped in her tracks.

She’d been so focused on trying to avoid Thorin that she forgot about the possibility of bumping into Elrond. Lindir followed not far behind him.

Once she realised escape was not an option, Jin Ae pulled her lips into a smile. “Lord Elrond. Lindir.”

“How fares your search in the library?” The elf lord asked.

“Your books have been helpful, my lord. I’m now better adjusted to living here. But unfortunately, they’re still not enough to send me home.”

She shrugged apologetically, hoping that it’d be the end of the conversation. But of course, the Valar or whoever was up there had to be selective in granting her wishes.

“I am sorry to hear that. Fear not, I have some news that might lift your spirits.”

“Oh?” She feigned, hoping that his elven hearing did not pick up on the way her pulse quickened.

“Yes. It would seem that your former travel companion is here.” The elf lord spoke, folding his hands behind his back. “ He arrived today with a party. Dwalin, was it?”

Shit. She thought. Don’t tell me he’s an actual person.

“Y-yes.”

Lindir looked at her like he didn’t know whether to be amazed or disappointed that she chose to continue her lie.

“I have invited all our guests for a meal together this evening. But Dwalin has agreed to speak with you privately beforehand.”

Her stomach sank. 

“Sounds great, my lord.” She smiled. “Where can I find him?”

Jin Ae lifted her knuckle to knock on the door.

The sun had just started to set, dinner would start soon, and she was starting to regret postponing this conversation until the very last half an hour. She didn't even know if that was enough time to explain everything.

To add, she had no way of guessing the reaction of this stranger whom she had been pretending to know this whole time. She thought Thorin had picked a random name when choosing his fake identity; it never occurred to her that it would all circle back to her. 

Questions were running amok in her head. What is his relationship to Thorin? Did Thorin ever disclose their meeting to this dwarf ? How much was safe to reveal ?

There were just too many uncertainties, and it was starting to make her palms shake. So when she heard footsteps approaching, she adjusted the strap of her dress and straightened her back.

The door creaked open, and a suspicious eye peered through the gap. And after what felt like an eternity, the person inside let her in. 

Her vision quickly adjusted to the dim light of the room. Inside, the windows were drawn, and only a small hearth was lit, warming her skin.

The room was similar to her own. She supposed it was the same for everything in the guest wing, except this one was bigger, with four beds facing one another and a long table. Yet everything was untouched except for two of the chairs, which had been moved in the middle of the room to face one another.

The man before her lowered himself on one of them.

To say he's intimidating was an understatement. Jin Ae caught her eyes drifting to the pair of twin axes that rested against his knees.

“So yer the woman that’s been crowin’ about knowing me.” He huffed, crossing his arms. “Sorry to say, lass, but we’ve never met.”

Jin Ae narrowed her eyes.  “I agree. We haven’t.”

She moved to sit across from him before he had the chance to order her. For a few seconds, they simply stared at each other, locked in a silent standoff. The fire continued to crackle, its occasional pops breaking the stillness.

Finally, he leaned forward, trying to put his face as close to hers as possible. “ Then who’s this other fella ye were talkin’ about?”

“That’s none of your business.” Jin Ae scowled. “My turn to ask a question. What are you doing here?”

“That’s none of your business.” 

“Well then, I guess our conversation here is over.” 

She got on her feet and made a motion to leave.

“Not quite.”

He stormed toward her, closing the gap in a few sharp strides. His lack of height did nothing to soften the glare in his eyes. If anything, it concentrated its sharpness like a blade.

“Name the dwarf you spoke of !” He demanded, “His real name.”

“Not until you tell me why you’re here!” She growled back, stepping in and puffing out her chest until their shoulders were close enough to brush. “Are you friend or foe?”

The bedroom door slammed open with a crash, startling Jin Ae so badly she tripped over the hem of her gown. Footsteps echoed toward her before his voice cut through the air.

"That’s enough! What is the meaning of this?"

Thorin’s voice was laced with disbelief, simmering with restrained anger as he took in the scene before him. Immediately, he slid himself in between the two, a stern hand on Dwalin’s shoulder, before he was crouching down to help Jin Ae, who had, in the process, tumbled onto the floor.

“Are you alright?” He asked, a firm arm around her.

It was all too much. 

Seeing him up close, hearing his voice, and how gently he spoke to her. 

Her heart gave a squeeze, making her twist her face in pain.

“Explain yourselves,” Thorin demanded, easing her onto the chair. “Now!”

“We didn’t mean anything by it, uncle !” A voice piqued.

“We were just trying to interrogate her !” Another reasoned, “ You said we had to be cautious!”

“I did not mean for you to corner her !” He groaned before switching to angrily speaking in Khuzdul. 

More and more figures entered the room, talking over one another and creating such a commotion that her head was starting to throb. Eventually, the noise died down, and Jin Ae finally lifted her head to face the expectant group that now encircled her.

Sharp rays of sunlight poured in through from what was left of the doorway, illuminating their faces in a soft, yellow glow. Broken pieces of wood were scattered on the floor, and she could hear surprised whispers in Elvish coming from down the hall.

“You see, mister Dwalin was only trying to test you —” 

“— to see if you were scheming with the elves —”

“ — but you weren’t —”

“ — because you lied to them to cover up uncle’s identity !”

“ And ye didnae even give it up tae Dwalin ! I'm impressed !”

“So congratulations—”

“ — you passed !” They all cheered.

She turned her head weakly to look at Thorin, who was still crouching by her side.

“Forgive me.” His sorry look showed her this wasn’t the first time they’d done something like this. “ I had no part in this.”

Thorin’s eyes drifted to her hands, which were still trembling in an effort to release the tension that had wound up inside of her. Yet all Jin Ae could think of was how close they were. From this distance, she could count the strands of white peaking from the crown of his head, and feel the ghost of his breath against her cheek. It took everything in her willpower not to sink her head against his chest, just so she could hear his heartbeat for herself.

He’s here. He’s real.

There was so much she wanted to say.

It’s okay.

I haven’t stopped thinking about you ever since you left.

I’ve missed you.

Stay, this time.

But all that came out of her mouth was a small laugh. The conversation in the room stopped, and she pressed a hand to her lips, struggling to hold back the laughter bubbling up inside her. 

Two elf guards arrived, no doubt exchanging wary glances at the scene before them. Yet Jin Ae could only savor the joy that had washed over her, soaking in the warm press of Thorin’s hand across her back.

For the first time in a long time, Jin Ae remembered; this was what it felt like to come home.

Dinner was hosted in an open-air pavilion, which stood amidst the elegant architecture and rocky cliffside. She had never been to this area before, momentarily stunned in awe at the  scene before her. The golden light of the early evening made everything even more serene, from the distant waterfalls to the gentle rustling of the lush greenery; her hands itched to take a picture. Jin Ae supposed some twenty-first-century habits never truly die.

The rest of the dwarves — and a hobbit, whom she remembered having bumped into before, but will have to talk to him to confirm her suspicions — were ushered towards a long, low table. Whilst Jin Ae, Thorin, and the elderly man dressed in grey were ushered away from the group to a secluded area.

Jin Ae was the first to speak.

“Lord Elrond, please forgive me.” Even when her words trembled, Jin Ae didn’t let that stop her from looking her host in the eye. “I only wanted to protect Thorin’s identity.”

To her right, Thorin took a step toward her, as if to put himself between her and Elrond.

“No damage is done, Jin Ae.” Elrond smiled, and there was almost a twinkle in his eyes as he looked at them. “ I understand you were only being cautious. Your loyalty to friends is commendable.”

“Yes.” The mysterious man agreed. “Which is wise. For you have enemies, Thorin.”

“But none here,” Elrond reassured.

Her shoulders slouched with relief. She never liked lying, and now it felt as if a great weight was lifted off her.

“May I ask for your name, my dear?” The man asked.

“It’s Jin Ae.”

There was kindness in his eyes, but also sharpness, the kind that gave her the impression that he saw right through people. Including her.

“And where do you hail from, Jin Ae?”

She looked at Elrond for confirmation, and when he nodded, she gave her usual warning before starting, “ It’s a long story.”

“And I am particularly fond of long stories.” He replied mirthily, “Shall we hear it over dinner? I would not want to miss out on the festivities.”

Lively chatter had begun to brew outside, bleeding into the room.

“Come,” Elrond gestured. “ We have much to discuss. Mithrandir might just be the person to help you, Jin Ae.”

They made their way to a separate, smaller table overlooking the scenery. The dwarves were guffawing over a joke, and Jin Ae could tell from the expressions of the harp players that dinner had just turned into the longest hour of their eternal lives.

She did her best to recall her story from beginning to end. This time, without lying. She did, however, conveniently leave out the striking resemblance Thorin bore to her dead fiancé and her far-fetched theory that he has something to do with her appearance here, along with the more…private details of her and Thorin’s journey.

She felt like she was at least entitled to a few secrets. And it seemed like the smart thing to do. She wasn’t looking forward to facing Thorin’s disappointment once he realised the universe had sent him a grieving woman who knew next to nothing about wielding weapons to keep him out of danger.

Jin Ae was starting to get her hopes up when Gandalf — who, she learned, is only addressed as Mithrandir by the elves — revealed himself to be a wizard. (She felt she was way past overrationalising anything in this place, and it was better to just accept elves and wizards and dragons exist.) Only to be let down when he told her that there was nothing he could do for her at the moment, for even he had never heard anything like it.

“Fascinating,” he hummed. “ And do you believe you were brought here with a purpose?”

She cast a sideways glance at Thorin, who was looking at her intently.

“I’m not sure. It’s better than believing in accidents. I don’t really believe in that.”

“No?” Gandalf asked, curious.

She thought of the incense burning underneath the dilapidated roof of the shrine, resting underneath the quiet shade of the trees. And of the man sitting next to her, and how closely their fingers hovered next to one another under the table.

“No. I don’t think this was an accident.”

“And you wish to go home?”

Gandalf’s question was simple, but she found herself pausing before answering.

“I…I don’t know.”

Thorin’s gaze softened. And suddenly, going home doesn’t seem to be that big of a problem anymore.

Gandalf went on to explain why they’ve come to Rivendell, and Jin Ae was torn between focusing on what the wizard was saying and the boisterous laughter exploding from the other table. So she settled with sneaking glances at the dwarf next to her.

Thorin sat straight-backed and still, looking unmistakably regal even among Elves. He wore a dark coat over his tunic, and a leather mantle fashioned with metal studs that resembled armor. The subtle silver embroidery on his clothes caught the soft light of Rivendell like the gleam of moonlight dancing against steel. He himself looked like a weapon; sharp, stern. It made Jin Ae strangely nervous, stomach in knots as she trailed her eyes down the small braids in his dark hair.

He caught her gaze. She nearly knocked over a cup with how quickly she turned away.

“This is Orcrist, the Goblin-cleaver. A famous blade forged by the High Elves of the West, my kin. May it serve you well.” Elrond smiled, pleased, before passing Thorin’s sword back to him and unsheathing Gandalf’s.

“And this is Glamdring, the Foehammer. Sword of the King of Gondolin. These were made for the Goblin Wars of the First Age !” Elrond gave his two guests a suspicious look. “ How did you come by these?”

“We found them in a Troll-hoard on the Great East Road…” Gandalf answered with deliberate caution,“ ...shortly before we were ambushed by Orcs.

“And what were you doing on the Great East Road?” Elrond pressed.

Gandalf hesitated. It was then that Thorin stood and left. 

Neither Gandalf nor Elrond seemed the least bit surprised when Jin Ae excused herself to follow after him.

Trailing after the sound of his footsteps, she turned down two hallways and nearly lost her way—until a guard silently pointed toward a spiral staircase. She rushed down the steps, nearly tripping over her dress twice.

But then she nearly barreled into something solid, bracing herself for the floor.

An arm steadied her by the waist, hauling her back up the last few steps.

Thorin’s face only relaxed when he realised it was her.

“You could have injured yourself.” He warned, arm falling back to his side. 

For a second, her brain complained at the loss of contact.

“I wanted to catch up to you.” She exhaled.

There were so many thoughts running through her mind, too many. She wanted to ask him how he was, if he was doing alright, and if he too was losing sleep because he saw her everywhere, including his dreams.

But she asked none of those, and neither did he.

Instead, they chose to walk in silence together, side by side, down the empty corridor as the sun on the horizon descended the canyon. 

Thorin cleared his throat. “You look...”

She fidgeted with her hands.

“You look...well.”

A laugh escaped her throat, “Thank you. You look...well, too.”

He cocked a brow, and for the first time since she’d met him, Thorin looked shy. She convinced herself it was a trick of the light, a shadow of a memory with a different person, in a different life.

But she wasn’t thinking of anyone else. She couldn’t think of anyone else. Not when he was looking at her as if he was trying to commit her to memory.

“You’re staring.” She said, a little breathless.

His eyes drifted from her face to her neck, and for the first time that evening, she felt self-conscious about what she had on.

Earlier in the evening, just as she was about to leave her room, a knock came at the door. One of the elf maids stood there, holding a package. Inside was a dress and a note from Lindir.

He insisted it was only proper she wear something nice for the occasion, for formality’s sake.

She slipped it on without much thought, mind already too crowded with the anxiety of facing Dwalin. She didn’t even glance at her reflection before stepping out.

But now she wished she had.

The dress had a wide, slightly off-the-shoulder neckline. Elves, unlike most humans, cared less about modesty. Some of their dresses, especially for warmer weather, were thin and semi-sheer, made of silk or chiffon. Hers was the latter, with draped open sleeves that cascaded nearly to the floor. The light blue fabric shifted like water, rippling in the soft breeze.

Thorin’s eyes lingered before flicking back to her face. 

“When they mentioned there was a woman claiming to have travelled with Dwalin, I had my suspicions.” He leaned in, “I went to look for you as soon as I could, only to find that you’ve decided to confront him yourself.”

“I figured you wouldn’t want Elrond to know what you’ve been up to.”

“You guessed correctly.” A gentleness crept to his gaze, “for that you have my thanks.”

They were so close she could feel his body heat against her chest, like a low flame licking at her skin. Sweat was gathering at her nape. 

“What are you doing here?” 

His voice was like a slow-moving current, a tide pulling her in. Compelling her to answer.

“I had to look for a way home.”

“And is that what you want?”

“I don’t know anymore.”

He searched her eyes before stepping away, looking strangely hopeful.

She seized the moment to regain her voice.

“Why are you here?”

He scanned their surroundings before telling her that he was on a quest.

Her eyes widened. “You plan to take back Erebor?” 

"Yes." He spoke, "It is time we take back our home." 

She could hear the heaviness in his voice, along with his longing and conviction. All those years he spent in exile — in pain, it had all boiled down to this very moment. He had gathered a company of dwarves, none of whom are soldiers. Instead, brothers, fathers, and laborers who had left the safety of their new colony to reclaim a home that some of them had never even seen. She could not begin to even imagine the weight currently resting upon his shoulders.

She rested a hand on his arm. Slowly, like a taut wire loosening, some of the tension in him began to ease.

He told her of his chance encounter with Gandalf in the Prancing Pony. Of returning to the Blue Mountains to recruit men to join him in reclaiming their mountain. Of the Shire, burglars, and Trolls. Jin Ae couldn’t contain her laughter when he told her they were nearly roasted alive, and had to pretend to have parasites to escape.

At that moment it felt like they had never left the forest.

“What were you doing in Bree in the first place?”

She recalled the outline of the map he used to carry. She’d seen it enough times to know that if he were to leave from the Blue Mountains for business in Combe, he wouldn’t have to use the long way through Bree.

As if caught, Thorin paused to consider his next words.

“ No. I was... looking for you.”

Her pulse quickened. 

“You wanted to see me?”

“I had to see you.” He whispered. 

A quiet moment passed between them, words left unsaid. 

Without warning, an elf guard appeared, the soldier marching all the way down the hall. In an instant, his face darkened with irritation.

“When the healers in Bree told me you had gone in search of the Elves, I was wroth with them for allowing it. They knew you wielded no weapon, and yet they let you stray into the wilds. Alone, and unguarded”

“I knew what I was getting myself into. I didn’t have a sword but I wasn’t completely defenseless.” She reasoned, confused at his sudden outburst. “ I knew which paths were guarded by the elves. I was being careful.”

“No, you were lucky.” He snapped, “Mahal knows when that will eventually run out.”

She flinched, recognizing the same shadow that had crossed his face earlier that day.

“This isn’t about me, is it? This is about the elves.”

Her words were a direct hit; his eyes turned defensive. 

“You do not know what you speak of.”

She raised her chin and took a step forward. “ I don’t. But I know you don’t trust Elrond. Yet he has been nothing but kind to me ever since I came here. I will also not have you discredit my efforts. I found the elves all on my own. Sure, I was lucky. But even if I wasn’t, then at least dying would have been my own decision and no one could have taken that from me. Not even you.”

For the first time, she did what she never could during all their fights on the road: she walked away.

And took every fibre in her being not to look back.

“One of the Elves overheard Dwalin’s name, and he said there was a woman here who used to travel with him — ”

“Which is a load of kakhf.” Dwalin spat, cheeks red in what Jin Ae could only assume was a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

“Anyways, as I was saying.” Kíli continued, “It was decided then that we had to speak to you.”

“Because even if it was some other Dwalin — and that’s a stretch — what kind o’ woman goes wanderin’ about with a dwarf ?” The warrior huffed.

“A lucky one,” Bofur winked, looking around the room to see if they all heard his joke. 

Exasperated, Kíli threw his hand in the air. “Would you let me finish?”

He raised his arms, “Sorry, laddie. Proceed.”

“We really didn’t mean to give you a fright, promise. It’s just— Thorin was convinced it could be a trick. Elves and all. So we figured it was safer if we handled the questioning. As a group.” Kili finished quickly, afraid someone was going to cut in before he could finish.

Balin heaved a sigh, “Except you lot started without Thorin.” 

Bofur raised a hand, “In our defense, we didn’t know Thorin was going to talk to you first. So it was just miscommunication, that’s what it is. Nothing more to it.”

“So you wanted to intimidate me?” Jin Ae confirmed.

“Just a wee bit,” Dwalin shrugged.

“We believe an apology is in order,” Balin finally announced, giving his brother a reproachful look and reminding everyone why they were here in the first place.

Jin Ae smiled.

“You’ve apologised yesterday. Water under the bridge.” 

Tying off the final stitch in the horse’s flank, Jin Ae made sure the rough edges of the wound were now neatly closed. The mare let out a sharp neigh of protest as she gave a gentle pat to its hindquarters. An elf guard held the animal steady by the reins, assigned to keep it calm during the procedure — though he seemed more concerned with the growing crowd gathering near the stable than with the horse itself.

After her argument with Thorin, Jin Ae had stormed into her room, stripped off her dress, and dived under the covers to force herself to sleep. The exhaustion from previous sleepless nights must have caught up to her, because despite the tightness in her chest, somewhere in the night, she had drifted into a dream. When she woke, dawn was just breaking.

She couldn’t recall what she had dreamt about; she only knew it made her even more exhausted than before.

Wanting to keep herself busy, she decided to pay the infirmary a visit. 

She had expected to learn a lot from the healers, but Jin Ae quickly discovered that the elves were just as protective of their knowledge as the dwarves, and if there was a reason, Jin Ae didn’t ask for it. It wasn’t like she even had the magic to actually work most of the herbs. 

Hence, they settled on trading techniques. The elves taught her to make do with natural materials—animal bone for pins and plant fibers for sutures—while Jin Ae demonstrated various methods to close a wound in return.

While the elves were more than capable, Jin Ae noticed they lacked skill in stitching. Most of their healers depended on internal medicine and the natural physiology of elves, which allowed wounds to close and dry quickly. For a weaker patient, however, relying solely on natural healing would have taken too long. 

Which is why when she went looking for work in the early hours of the morning, they sent her straight to the stables. While the elves returned unscathed yesterday, some of their horses weren’t very lucky. It didn’t matter if they were bred for war; orc blades have a vicious edge to them, and the tips of their arrows were rigged like a hook, designed to latch onto the flesh and make it hard to extract.

So she worked carefully, lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t hear the cluster of footsteps approaching her.

It was Thorin’s company. Well, half of them.

They had briefly introduced themselves, some names familiar, some new. Fíli looked nothing like his uncle. His long, golden-blond hair was loosely kept, with small braids at the sides. A sharp contrast to Thorin’s heavy features. Kíli, on the other hand, carried more of his uncle’s likeness: his midnight-dark hair fell in tousled waves, and though he only had stubble, it made his dark eyes stand out all the more.

Dwalin, she had already met, and he still looked as if he hadn’t trusted her. He was without weapons this time, along with the rest, and Jin Ae could only guess that the elf guards had seized them after yesterday’s commotion. He, too, looked nothing like his older brother. 

Balin’s hair was white, and he looked more like a scholar than a warrior ; the only one closely observing her work whilst the others chatted about.

Then there are the brothers Bofur and Bombur, who couldn’t be more different, along with their cousin Bifur. They told her the rest of the company were still stuffing themselves with breakfast.

“And Thorin ?” she had absentmindedly asked. 

There was a knowing glint in Balin’s eyes as he answered, “in a meeting with our host.”

She tossed the remaining arrow shrapnel into the bowl, gesturing to the axe jutting out of Bifur’s head, “ I can take a look at that, if you’d like.”

Bofur relayed what she had said to his brother in Khuzdul, to which he responded back enthusiastically. 

“He said that’d be wonderful!” Bofur grinned. 

“Perhaps you should do so in the company of our healer, Oín,” Balin advised. 

“Is he also a surgeon? A handworker?” Jin Ae asked. 

He cocked his head to the side, “ When the time calls for it, yes. With our small number, we often have to make do.”

“Yer a bone-setter, lass?” Dwalin asked, though it sounded more like a challenge than a question.

She wiped her red stained hands against her apron, “For lack of a better word, yes. But I can work with more than just bones.” 

She washed her fingers against the cold basin, stomach growling at the sight of Bombur finishing off his third loaf of bread.

“Aye, that’s well impressive!” Balin praised.

Jin Ae bowed her head. 

“ Thank you, Balin.”

She turned to the elf guard and told him that she was finished. When he made no move to excuse himself, she asked him to fetch her something from the infirmary. Reluctantly, he left, and all the dwarves visibly relaxed.

“Thorin told me you were on a quest.” 

“He told you?” Dwalin frowned. 

“See ! I told you, Thorin trusts her!” Kíli grinned, practically bouncing on his feet.

Fíli gestured for the group to huddle closer, “ How much do you know about our quest?”

“I know that you plan on taking back Erebor.”

“We have a burglar with us,” Kíli added. “We’re trying to decipher a map.” 

Looking like he wanted to throw a hand over Kíli’s mouth, Fíli settled with a firm hand against his brother’s shoulder, “How do you know Thorin?”

If he wanted to change the subject, then Fíli was very clever to ask the question that’s no doubt been floating in everyone’s mind. They looked at her expectantly.

“If you take me to the rest of your company, I’ll tell you. And I’d love to talk to your healer, maybe we can learn something new from each other.”

Dwalin scoffed. “A dwarf like Óin, wi’ all his experience, learnin’ from you? No offense, but I reckon we’ll manage just fine on our own.”

“I’m sure you can. And I’m sure I’ll have more to learn from Oín than he does from me.” She discarded the apron into one of the baskets and straightened her back, “ But when you're travelling in a group of fifteen people, an extra set of hands won’t hurt. And these hands have seen more than you think.”

“Are you…” Balin lowered his voice, “ asking to join us, lass?”

“I think we have much to discuss.” She gestured to the exit. “ Shall we?”

It was a short walk from the stables to the kitchen area where the rest of the company was, and Jin Ae was quickly acquainted with each of them.

Oín was older; she had to guess around Balin's age and was hard of hearing. The ear-trumpet he carried with him had a dent on it, most likely gained somewhere during their chase with the orcs. Jin Ae made a mental note to ask someone from the forge to give him the instruments he needed to fix it. His brother Glóin was stocky, no doubt a fighter. His red-brown beard was braided, and it rested atop the armor he wore over his tunic. 

Then there were the brothers Dori, Nori, and Ori. The eldest, Dori, was soft-spoken and courteous. He had greeted her with a polite nod before turning his attention to fussing over his brothers — and occasionally the rest of the company. Nori, the middle one, had a roughish light in his eyes and the most impressive spiky, star-shaped braided hair. The youngest was called Ori. From first glance, Jin Ae could tell that he was even younger than Fíli and Kíli, maybe because he didn't have a beard and was wrapped in a wool scarf that was too big for him. His eyes shone when she asked him what he was writing about, and she wondered why they’d bring someone so gentle with them on such a dangerous quest.

Lastly, she met Bilbo, who looked as out of place amongst the throng of dwarves as she did. Well, minus the height.

“So we meet again, Mr. Baggins,” Jin Ae greeted.

His eyes lit up with recognition, “ What an unexpected surprise ! And please, it's just Bilbo.”

“Then it’s also just Jin Ae.”

“So,” Bofur began. “ How did you meet the leader of our company?”

“He rescued me.” Jin Ae explained, sliding herself onto the bench opposite the party. “ I was lost in the Dunlands when he found me. He helped me find my way to Bree.”

“What were you doing in the Dunlands?” Fíli asked, “That’s no place for anyone to be.”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question for months now.” She placed a hand under her chin, “ I think I was brought there.”

“By whom? Who would do such a thing?” Ori gasped.

She winced, realising she was just as lost as they were, “I’m working on figuring that too.”

“Then where are you from?” Bilbo asked.

“A long way from here. A place where we built and did everything differently.”

They all seemed satisfied enough with her answer.

“An’ what makes ye want tae join our quest, then?” Balin probed. “You are aware of the dangers ahead, aren’t you?”

“And the fire-breathing dragon at the end of said quest.” Bofur shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

“Thorin saved me. I feel like I owe him this, at the very least.”

“So you’d risk your life?” Nori wondered aloud, skeptical.

“Yes.” She answered, a little too quickly for her own comfort. “ I know it's going to be dangerous, but I'll keep up.”

Dwalin leaned forward against the table, “And the services you offer?”

“Not as good as Oín, I can imagine. But better than most, and better than nothing."

Judging from the approving look Balin gave her, she must have said what he wanted to hear.

The dwarves huddled together to discuss amongst themselves, with Bofur pulling in a shy Bilbo into the circle. So Jin Ae pretended to look out of the window, drumming her fingers against the tabletop.

“While we would love to give you the contract, lass. Rules are rules,” Dwalin declared, “everyone has to be in mutual agreement.”

“And we don’t have everyone with us.” Dwalin finished.

Right. She thought to herself, eyes drifting to the empty space on the bench the dwarves had left out of habit for their leader.

“I’ll make sure to speak with Thorin,” Jin Ae reassured.

His nephews gave each other a knowing look.

“ I do not think it wise to approach him now.” Fíli began, clearly trying to think of the right words.

She attempted to look clueless. “ Did something happen last night?”

“He’s just…likely busy with the map business,” Kíli blurted, before leaning forward to lower his voice. “ ‘Tis all very stressful. He didn’t sleep a wink last night."

“Aye,” Balin agreed, “ I’d proceed with caution if I were you.”

“Losing sleep, huh?” She exhaled, leaning back. “I know what that feels like.”

The sun hung motionless in a pale, cloudless sky, casting long, lazy shadows across the earth and lulling Jin Ae asleep. Until a figure lowered itself on the bench next to her, jerking her awake.

“You wish to join us.”

Jin Ae winced at the headache pushing its way to the front of her skull. “I do.”

Time seemed to slow under the glare of the sun, and everything stood still, even the tall grass and the flowers that wildly forced themselves through the cracks of the pathways.

Thorin regarded her carefully, as if trying to read her thoughts.

“And if I were to say no?”

She rested her head back against the wall, “ Then I’ll just meet you in Erebor.”

He let out a long sigh. “Why are you doing this?”

She imagined the burden of a crown to be insurmountable. The weight of the lives that have staked themselves upon it, even more. But he and his company had every reason to want to take back the mountain — honor, family, money.

She wasn’t doing it for either of those. She wasn’t even doing it to go home.

“Because you will need all the help you can get. Also because I can.”

He followed her line of sight to the willow tree at the centre of the garden.

“Forgive me. I spoke without caution yesterday.” He began, speaking slowly. “ I did not speak to belittle you; it was not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean, Thorin?”

She turned to him, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

“I would rest easier knowing you can defend yourself,” his voice softened. “I do not doubt your wit and your determination. I have been a witness to both.”

She smiled at that, forgetting that she was still supposed to be angry.

“But our journey will be dangerous. You must know how to defend yourself against the enemy.”

“But you have always protected me,” she reminded him.

“Aye. And if I could have it that way, always, I would.” A flicker of something unreadable passed over his face, “ But I cannot always be near.”

She swallowed, throat suddenly feeling tight.

“I’ll do it. I’ll learn how to fight.”

He nodded, relief evident in the way he relaxed against the wall. “You could not ask for a more capable teacher than Dwalin.”

“I don’t think he likes me very much," she mused, glancing at him before adding, "But I think I understand where the sentiment comes from.

He nodded, picking up on her uncertainty. "During his time in exile, Dwalin, too, had to look for work in the villages of men." His face hardened. "You have witnessed their cruelty to outsiders firsthand. I am glad you understand where his distrust comes from."

She thought of Freya and the biting winter, of the blood that wouldn’t stop running and the tears that streamed down her brother’s face.

A soft breeze rolled down from the valley, kissing the skin of her cheeks and pulling another yawn out of her. “I forgive you, by the way.”

He gave her a small smile, “You are most kind.”

He raised his left hand to her — she hadn’t even realized he’d been holding anything. The small package was wrapped in leaves, and when she peeled them back, her stomach gave a small leap at the sight.

“Lembas,” she grinned. “Is this for me?”

She had only eaten it twice before. Once when she'd seen Lindir with some, and another time when she’d been too caught up in the library to bother with dinner. The Elves usually kept it as travel rations; it was rare to see it served at the table.

“I did not see you at breakfast this morning,” he said by way of explanation.

She took a small bite, then another, before feeling strangely full. Carefully, she wrapped it up again and turned to him.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

He looked at her, and his eyes gave way to something quieter.

“Will you stay?” She asked. “Just until I’m asleep.”

“I was not planning to leave.”

Satisfied, she let her eyes droop. The last thing she remembered was her head drifting to the side, coming to rest against something warm.

And for the first time in weeks, Jin Ae fell into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

June TA 2940

The days in Rivendell passed slowly. Thorin kept himself occupied with Elrond and Gandalf, the three often seen walking together through the halls, deep in conversation. 

Rumors had begun to circulate, the map business was taking too long, and Thorin was not too happy. It was also evident from the handful of times Gandalf had abruptly stormed off in a fit of anger, muttering about the 'stubbornness of dwarves’ and how it was going to be the end of him.

At least the wizard was allowed to freely enter and exit the valley; these days, even Jin Ae was barred from straying too far from the forest edge.

With the amount of guards that now stood watch at every entrance, and the growing frequency of patrols beyond their borders, Thorin's arrival had solidified a long-waking suspicion within Elrond. Many of the elves regarded the company’s presence as a warning —something was shifting, and all of Rivendell seemed to be holding its breath, bracing for what was to come.

But even then, life continues. When she woke the day after her conversation with Thorin in the garden, Jin Ae found herself in bed, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes yet basking in the sense of clarity that came only from a good night’s sleep. 

The rest of her lembas neatly placed on her bed side table. 

With no sight of Thorin, she spent the rest of that morning with the Company. It seemed like they were already informed beforehand of their leader’s decision, coming to greet her with the contract. 

She tried her best to read through the whole thing, even the fine print, which Bilbo pointed out gave a very detailed description of the different ways Smaug the Terrible can remove the skin off her bones. 

“Havin’ second thoughts, lass?”

Dwalin sat with his arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line. And as she scanned the crowd before her, Jin Ae saw that he wasn’t the only one who had doubts about her presence. But they know it would be foolish to deny that it would be invaluable to have another healer — one who can do more than just administer draughts — on their journey. 

Which was how she found herself under the glare of the sun with Dwalin, knees on the verge of buckling. It was a good thing she had decided to put on a dress shirt and a pair of trousers that day, but then again, she had a feeling Dwalin was the type to take no excuses. He would have still made her fight, even with a dress on.

“Shouldn’t you teach her the basics first?” Bilbo called out from behind her.

He was sitting among the company, who had gathered to watch them train. He already had his turn—but not against Dwalin. Instead, Bofur had volunteered to show him the proper way to swing a sword.

Dwalin hadn’t bothered calling out the obvious stalling tactic—this was, allegedly, the third time they'd gone over the same material. He picked up a wooden sword from the rack, held it out to Jin Ae, and said, "Get into position." 

Their weapons were still confiscated, so they only had wooden replicas to use. Something Jin Ae was secretly relieved about.

“Listen here,” he instructed, voice gruff. " I don't have the time to teach ye every form or name of every strike. Ye need tae know three things, and three things only: how tae block, how tae dodge, and how tae make the poor bastard wish he’d picked someone else tae swing at."

Before she could even ask if he was going to teach her how to hold the weapon, he moved forward quickly—too quickly—and her reflexes kicked in. She flinched to the side. His strike grazed past her shoulder. Close.

“Not bad,” he grunted, stepping in close. “But not good enough.”

Before she could blink, the pommel of his sword came up and slammed into her gut. The air flew from her lungs as she doubled over, coughing, arms instinctively wrapping around her middle.

He didn’t look smug. Just grim.

“Ye dodge the sword, aye, but ye leave yer belly wide open. Congratulations, now yer dead.” 

She straightened slowly, jaw clenched, “You don’t agree with this.”

“I don’t,” he answered immediately. “But it’s no’ my call tae make.”

Dwalin stepped back, voice indifferent but calmer now. “Out there, they won’t stop just ’cause you’re down. They’ll finish the job proper.”

She stared at him, the wooden sword heavy in her grip. “Then we’ve got work to do.”

He exhaled through his nose, the edge in his voice dulling, if only a little. “Ye’re a fool for sayin’ aye to this.”

She straightened, feeling the sun on her neck. “ I think so too.”

He lowered his blade. “Now breathe. Then do it again. And this time, don’t go handin’ me the kill.”

From the corner of her eyes, she saw Kíli on his feet, held back by his brother. Yet the courtyard remained quiet, save for the sound of her boots against the gravel. If they questioned Dwalin's methods, no one said a word. You didn’t need to be a dwarf to know that they respected the man more than they questioned him.

“Stop thinkin’ so much. Feet apart. Center low. Blade up—not that high. Yer not posing for a statue.”

She did as he instructed, ignoring the burn in her thighs and arms.

They moved. Faster now. A rhythm began to take shape. Clash, step, twist, block. She was breathing hard, but she wasn’t flinching as much. He tested her guard, her stance, and forced her to keep her footing under pressure.

Then —

Her weight shifted too far forward.

In one smooth motion, his boot swept across the dirt and caught her ankles. Her feet flew out from under her, and she hit the ground flat on her back with a heavy thud.

Jin Ae stared up at the sky, the wind knocked from her lungs.

He stood over her, expression unreadable.

“That,” Dwalin said, “is how fast it ends when ye let yer balance go.”

She didn’t answer. Couldn't.

“You’ll need more practice,” he added over his shoulder as he started to walk away. “A lot more.”

As he walked away, she pushed herself upright with a groan, one hand pressed to her ribs. A few voices from the company told her she did a great job — though she doubted it was true —  before drifting off one by one like ships fading into the night. Bilbo lingered, as if unsure whether to offer a hand. She caught his eye and gave a small gesture. 

I’m alright. 

And then he disappeared with the rest.

She listened to the breeze as it rustled the leaves, arriving only once she was done. With a tired sigh, she wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. 

And that was when she noticed Thorin standing at the edge of the training yard.

Their eyes met. He gave nothing away. Not approval, not concern, just unreadable and still.

She looked away first.

Training with Dwalin and the Company had become somewhat of a routine. Considering that the elves were watching their every move and they were given very limited access to which halls they can venture in — thanks to an incident with Nori and a thousand year old vase — there wasn’t much left to do aside from telling stories and sparring to pass the time. 

Now that spring was in full swing, everyone was eager to make the most of the weather, tired of all those days spent huddled shoulder to shoulder beneath the trees, waiting for the rain to pass.

The only downside was that each sparring session would end with flat on her back, gasping for breath.

Nori, her partner for the day, outstretched his hand for her to take, “Have you ever fought anyone before?” 

She hauled herself up, shaking her head, “Not really.”

“That’s not a no.”

She wiped her hands on her trousers, “ When I was younger, I used to get into trouble.”

“You?” He scoffed, eying her. “Don’t seem like the type to me.”

From the corner of her eyes she could see several others listening into their conversation. The training yard the elves leant them was small so everyone was within earshot. Most of the company was also done for the day, sitting on the grass to cool down.

Thorin, still nowhere in sight.

“I was never the one to start it. I ran away from home a lot, and I got roped into fights here and there. Mostly with other runaway girls. But now I think I’m lucky, because I was sent back home in one piece each time.” 

Jin Ae thought back to all those times she’d wait in the police station for her dad, knees scraped and lip busted. It was seldom that he’d pick her up the same day, and when he did, her appa would pick her up smelling like cigarettes and alcohol. They’d walk home together without exchanging a word, and he’d pass out on the yos before she even finished taking off her shoes. All the other times she fought were to defend herself, from her attacker in the Dunlands and the wargs in the forests. Both times, she had made use of her resources, more than her muscle.

Something softened in Nori’s eyes, almost sympathetic.

Her gaze dropped. “But that was a long time ago, and it was mostly small fights with other teenagers. I never really fought anyone or picked fighting up as a skill.”

“Neither did we,” Bofur piped in, appearing from behind her and gesturing to his brothers. “You know, people always think we're all the same — dwarves, I mean. Warriors. Smiths. We weren’t trained to fight. Closest we got was wrestling carts out of tight spots or swinging picks at stubborn stone.”

They led her to the loose circle on the grass, where they all sat enjoying the shade brought by a drifting cloud.

“You were miners?” Jin Ae asked.

“Aye. Our folk came from further west of Erebor. From old cities, long gone now, broken into scattered settlements.” Bombur answered.

Bifur said something which Bofur quickly translated. 

“Bifur here was a toymaker, one of the best you'll ever meet. He was known for his dancing ponies; you would have loved his shop ! Everyone did. But when the call for Moria came, we answered. And during the eve of battle, an orc buried an axe in his skull. Right there,” Bofur pointed, “ — haft snapped clean off, still stuck in him. Should’ve killed him, truth be told. But he lived. Don’t let it fool you, though. He still understands plenty. Just got a different way of sayin’ things now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. That was very brave of you. All of you. And I really meant what I said about giving that axe a look.” She smiled, to which Bifur returned with his own.

“Ori here was just about to begin his first year at the Academy when the call for Erebor came,” Dori announced with a proud sniff, chest puffed out like a peacock.

Ori's ears turned a deep shade of red. “Must you tell everyone?”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of!” Dori huffed, straightening Ori’s collar out of habit. “It’s called sharing, and we’re all very proud.”

A few voices murmured in agreement, and there were some encouraging claps on Ori’s back.

“And we’re even prouder of you for answering the call to take back our mountain,” Fíli grinned, giving Ori a playful nudge with his elbow.

Ori adjusted his grip on his slingshot and looked down, “ I may not be the best fighter... but I’ll give Smaug a taste of Dwarvish iron, right up his scaly jacksy!”

That earned a hearty laugh from several of the Company. 

“What I’m tryin’ to say is, don’t take it too hard when you get your arse handed to you,” Bofur said with a low chuckle, turning back to Jin Ae. “Happens to all of us the first time around. Only few of us are fighters. Look at Bilbo here—poor soul’s probably never even swatted a fly.”

He gave Bilbo a hearty pat on the shoulder.

Bilbo cleared his throat and offered a small, embarrassed smile.

“Ah—well, no, not exactly. Can’t say there’s much call for swords in the Shire. We’re more the gardening sort, really.”

“But…why did you run away from home, miss Jin Ae?” Ori asked politely, bringing the conversation back to her.

Earlier she saw Dwalin turn his head away, disapproval written all over his face at how freely they were all speaking to her. To an outsider. Jin Ae wasn’t used to sharing much about her life either, but she supposed trust went both ways.

“I didn’t have much of a relationship with my father,” Jin Ae said quietly. “He wasn’t cruel... just distant. When my mother died, it was like something in him gave up. After that, he drank, smoked, and gambled.”

She paused, eyes fixed somewhere far away.

“I couldn’t stand it. So I ran away a lot. Thought if I left enough times, it would mean something. But I realised it didn’t, not unless I earned it. So I studied. I worked. And eventually, I left for good.”

There was a beat of silence before Nori, ever the opportunist for a story, asked, “And how did she...?”

He trailed off, catching Dori’s sharp elbow in his ribs.

“Nori,” Dori hissed under his breath. To which his brother responded with both hands in the air.

Jin Ae exhaled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“She died giving birth to me.” A pause. “I don’t think my father ever forgave me for that.”

“That is no fault of yours, lass.” Balin whispered, voice small.

The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. Jin Ae shifted in place, rubbing the back of her neck, suddenly worried she’d said too much.

But when she glanced up, she noticed Dwalin watching her. Not with pity or scorn, but with something quieter.

“And you don’t have any other family?” Dori asked, frowning slightly. “Cousins? Uncles—”

“Husband?” Kíli cut in brightly.

He caught sharp elbows from both Dwalin and Fíli.

Jin Ae let out a short breath, amused.

“No. And no husband, either.”

“What?” Kíli looked around defensively. “It was worth asking! I mean—” He cleared his throat, trying to recover. “A woman like you... I’d imagine there’d be suitors lined up at your door.”

She gave a quiet, wry smile.

“Thank you, Kíli. But most men think I’m too closed off. Boring. And where I come from, they don’t exactly like a woman who earns her own money. Her own coin.”

“In what world would a man not want a woman who makes her own living?” Gloín scoffed, shaking his head.

Jin Ae didn’t answer right away. She glanced down, fiddling with her hands. When she finally spoke, her voice had softened.

“I was almost married, though.”

“And did he approve of what you do?” Oín asked, peering at her curiously with his trumpet ready.

“Oh yes,” Jin Ae smiled, teeth showing. “He was the first person who ever truly supported me. In anything.”

There were soft murmurs of approval around the group.

Kíli asked, more gently this time, “You said almost. What happened?”

Jin Ae straightened her back. Her gaze cast downwards.

“He passed.”

A sudden pang of loneliness hit her. These days she was starting to forget how to keep that feeling at bay, now that she was surrounded by those who — despite their great losses — still had brothers, cousins, and families.

There were no more questions asked that day.

The Hall of Fire lay nestled deep within Elrond’s house, a great chamber made of vast stone walls, softened by intricate carvings of trees and stars. Its massive pillars held the arched ceiling aloft, casting long shadows that danced against the flicker of the firelight.

She often went with Lindir, mostly after dinner or during the late hours where she couldn’t sleep. Yet the elf was nowhere to be found these days, likely still preoccupied with Elrond, leaving her to go alone.

Jin Ae had spent most of her days preparing for her journey, and it was difficult to request things from the Elves without rousing too many questions. To throw off their suspicions, she had spread her requests out over several weeks.

On the Monday of the first week, she asked for spare clothes — leggings, preferably, like the ones worn by the archers stationed at the forest borders. Because sparring had made her go through her laundry too quickly, of course. On Friday, she requested medical supplies — scissors, sutures, scaples. Just to have in her room, she said, to practice her stitching.

Tuesday of this week, she went searching for lembas. The Elves weren’t entirely convinced that she was simply craving them, but they gave her a few anyway. And they were more than enough rations to last a human for two months.

Now it was Thursday. Earlier, she had tried asking for herbs, claiming it was for a headache, and that surely they had ones lying around that didn’t require obscure elvish magic to work.

The infirmary gave her some, but not enough for a long journey, which left Jin Ae wracking her brain for a new way to secure more. Once pacing back and forth in her room seemed redundant, Jin Ae had decided to get dressed after dinner before heading to the Hall of Fire. 

On the way there, she passed the quarters where the dwarves were staying, and from the balcony she heard their laughter booming from above, along with the smell of sausages being roasted — it was likely that they had torn out pieces of the furniture to start the fire.

A part of her wanted to seek them out, she’d be lying to say that she hadn’t enjoyed the past few days of sparring, talking, and laughing. But waltzing in their room seems like overkill, so she headed quickly for the Hall.

“Jin Ae?”

She whipped her head to see Bilbo standing by the entrance. His face illuminated by the deep orange glow of the lanterns.

“Bilbo,” she greeted warmly. “Are you here alone?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, rocking on the balls of his bare feet.

“I read about it in one of my books, the Hall of Fire. Supposedly it’s lovely during the day for thinking. But tonight, I heard there’d be stories and singing. Thought I’d see it for myself.”

He glanced away, then quickly added, “Yes. It’s — uh, just me. No one from the Company wanted to come along.”

She smiled. “Then I’m glad we bumped into each other.”

Truth be told, Jin Ae was a little nervous about going alone tonight. No matter how kind the Elves were, she often felt like an outsider among them. A stranger passing through. But now, with Bilbo at her side, who seemed wholly absorbed in the gentle notes of a lyre being played nearby, she found herself beginning to relax.

The Elves sang many songs that night. Mostly in high Elvish, their meaning lost to Jin Ae. The others she could follow, thanks to the soft-spoken Elf seated beside her who murmured quiet translations between verses.

Tonight’s stories were lays from the First Age, epics of a time long buried, when the Elves rose against Morgoth, the first Dark Lord. Jin Ae had never experienced anything like it. The idea that these tales, filled with heroes and gods, were not legends but history felt impossible to grasp. They were more entertaining to her than inspiring — grand, yes, but so far removed from her world they felt like a dream someone else had lived.

Bilbo, on the other hand, was on the edge of his seat the entire time, his eyes gleaming with wonder, as if he was a child listening to the stories by the fireplace.

“This verse is of the Lady Galadriel and her husband, Celbron.” The elf spoke.

Jin Ae straightened, “The Lady of Lothlorien?”

He smiled, “Indeed. In the twilight years of the First Age, when the great forests of Doriath still lay under the watchful eye of Queen Melian, there came to Menegroth the Lady Galadriel of the House of Finarfin.”

A delicate melody drifted from the strings of the harp. Soft, lingering chords echoing a story older than any of them in this room. 

“It was beneath the beech-trees of Neldoreth that she first beheld Celeborn, prince of the Sindar.” He continued, “ They met under moonlight, and it is said the very earth drew breath in wonder. For their meeting was fated, a bond foretold to endure through the long ages of the world. They did not wed swiftly, for the times were dark and full of unrest, but their hearts were already bound.”

Jin Ae suddenly thought of a story her father used to tell her as a child, before the grief overtook him. When he spent the cold winter nights recounting folktales to her, in order to distract her from the cold seeping through the old, matted floorboards.

“Bound? As in in-yeon?” Jin Ae wondered aloud to herself.

“I have yet to hear of that term.” The elf replied, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

She hadn’t meant to pause for long, but when she looked up, they were both watching her, waiting.

“ In-yeon. It's a word in my language, and it has many meanings. Providence, fate, destiny. If two people fall in love, they say it’s because there have been eight thousand layers of in-yeon, over eight thousand lifetimes together.”

“That's beautiful.” Bilbo murmurred, somewhat awestruck.

Jin Ae thought of Michael. The blood on the operating table, on her hands. Then she thought of Thorin, the scar along his side, fading now. Healing. She remembered the thrum of his heartbeat beneath his skin as she stitched him up under the watchful silence of the Dunlands, the memory burnt into her fingertips.

“They’re just stories.” She croaked, averting her eyes.

“Perhaps.” The elf seemed to consider it for a moment, then dipped his chin. “Yet most tales echo something that once was.”

She suddenly felt unsteady. 

She had never made the connection before. Never dared.

In-yeon. A past life. Another life.

Jin Ae thought of the temple, of the wind that had picked up so suddenly. Of the wish she had whispered in her heart. 

Her knees nearly gave beneath her. She might have doubled over, had it not been for Bilbo’s voice pulling her sharply back to the present.

"Are—are you alright?" he squeaked. "You look a bit pale."

She swallowed hard. “I’m fine. I just think I’ve had enough for tonight. Please excuse me.”

“I’ll come with you.” It sounded more like an insistence than a suggestion, so Jin Ae relented and nodded.

They bid the elf goodbye before stepping out into the open night. Collecting herself, she briefly closed her eyes as the cool air swept across her face. 

They took their time walking back, crossing a bridge that spanned a pond.

Deciding to finally break the silence, she cleared her throat. “You said you’re good at gardening, Bilbo ?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to brag,” Bilbo said, puffing up slightly, “but I did win first prize at the Shire Harvest Fair for my snapdragons one year. And again the next for my turnips. Bet the Sackville-Bagginses didn’t see that coming.”

Jin Ae pulled a sprig of herbs from her satchel, showing it to him, “ Then do you know where I can find more of these?”

Bilbo took the plant gingerly from her hand, holding it up to the moonlight. A small, knowing smile crept onto his face.

“Feverfew ! They grow all over the Shire. You’ll trip over them if you’re not careful enough. But they like to be left alone. Too much sun and they sulk.”

“Have you seen any around here?” she asked. “In the gardens or on your walks?”

He frowned thoughtfully, “ Only in small patches. Not enough to harvest, if that’s what you’re planning.”

Jin Ae lowered her voice, “ The healers in the infirmary would start asking questions if I requested a large amount. I want to prepare some before we leave. The map business could be done any day now.”

He placed a hand under his chin. “All the gardens here are so pristine. You’d have to find somewhere a little neglected to get a decent bunch.”

Her eyes widened with realisation. “ Thank you Bilbo, I think I know just the place.”

When she bid him goodbye, the concern on Bilbo’s face was apparent. Yet Jin Ae couldn’t bring herself to speak of it, not when hope threatened to catch fire inside of her.

Jin Ae held the package out to him, “ Thank you for the dress. It was beautiful.”

Lindir bowed his head slightly, smiling, “ Then why are you returning it to me?”

She walked beside him down the quiet hall, where soft sounds from the garden drifted in — birdsong, the rustle of leaves, distant chatter. Through the open archways, she glimpsed elves strolling beneath the trees, bathed in the golden light of a spring morning.

“I can’t have it.” She explained, having rehearsed the line in her head several times, “It’s too nice.”

He glanced sideways at her, “I have requested the seamstress to make it for you specifically. A token of our friendship.”

She knew she couldn’t win, so she placed the dress back in her satchel, wondering how she was going to make it fit in her hiking bag, knowing that it’d be rude to just leave it behind. It wasn’t like she saw an occasion in the future where she could wear it.

“Are you making arrangements to leave?”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “ I’m not sure yet. I’m just tidying things up, just in case.”

“I am sorry to hear we have not been of greater help.”

She shook her head. “ Don’t be. You’ve been plenty of help, in more ways than one.”

He tilted his gaze, studying her. “And where do you plan to continue your search?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“If you wish to travel to Lothlórien, you only need to say the word. We would gladly send a party to escort you.”

“That’s kind of you, truly. But I’ve already taken more than my share of generosity.”

He stepped closer, suddenly looking more serious. 

“Lord Elrond believes the magic that brought you is of no small importance. It would be unwise to venture where we cannot follow.”

Her eyes narrowed, gears already turning.

“You mean you want to keep an eye on me.”

He didn’t flinch. “We believe it would be for the best. Not only will you risk yourself alone, but —”

“It’s making him nervous, isn’t it ? Not knowing what brought me here.” She held his gaze now, unblinking. “Then a company of dwarves arrives not long after. He thinks there’s more to all of this. That it’s all connected.”

His expression faltered. It was obvious he was carefully choosing his next words.

“Lord Elrond possesses a gift rare among even the Wise, which grants him fleeting glimpses of what is yet to come. He was prepared for Thorin Oakenshield’s arrival. And yet… in all his visions, you were not among them.”

An eerie silence settled between them. 

She could hear her own voice trembling. “What are you saying?” 

“There are many threads the eye of foresight cannot follow, this is true.” Lindir continued, “Not all paths are shown to him. Still… there is something unusual in your coming. Something veiled. You must understand why he hesitates to let you wander beyond his sight.”

Her throat tightened, “What of Thorin’s future? Did he…”

“No,” Lindir answered, in a tone that made her believe he was telling the truth. “That was not revealed to him, and if it was, I do not know of it. Neither was the nature of his visit here.”

She exhaled softly. At least they didn’t know about the mountain.

“I appreciate everything, truly,” she spoke, trying to keep her voice levelled, “ and I know you’re all worried about me. But I think I have the right to go where I wish without being followed.”

He said no more. The silence that followed would have suffocated her if it wasn’t for the sudden commotion in the distance, faint and growing. 

They took big strides towards the noise, stopping at the edge of the training yard where a small crowd had gathered. Elvish murmurs drifted through the air and Jin Ae had to weave her way to the front to see what could possibly capture the attention of a race who had seen nearly everything.

Her breath hitched.

The air hung thick, shimmering with heat. In the center of the training yard, two figures moved in a brutal dance, locked in a relentless spar. 

It was Thorin and Dwalin, stripped of their armor, wrestling one another. 

Their boots scraped the stone as they grappled, neither yielding ground.

Members of the company stood on the opposite side of the field, gathered beyond the heat’s reach, whooping as Thorin twisted free of a crushing hold, ducking low to avoid Dwalin’s attempted headlock. He slipped out from under the larger dwarf’s grip, feet pivoting across the stone as he retreated to the court’s edge.

She watched, heart flipping in strange excitement.

Thorin said something in Khuzdul, rough and goading, the corner of his mouth curled into a half-smile.

His opponent answered with a booming laugh, cracking his knuckles. The rest of the dwarves began thumping their right fists against their chests, a rhythmic, rising beat that she could feel in her bones.

Even the elves leaned forward, tension drawing across their faces, uncertain as to who would win.

Then Thorin reached for the base of his tunic and peeled it off. 

The young elf maid next to her inhaled sharply.

Scars mapped his torso, and the surgeon caught a glimpse of the one she had sewn, halfway healed yet not fading. Muscle coiled beneath olive skin that shimmered under the sun, his chest, mapped with dark hair, rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

She forced herself to exhale.

The two dwarves stood still for a moment, circling.

Then Dwalin lunged.

They collided like battering rams, shoulder to shoulder, arms locking. Dust flared up around them as they struggled for dominance, feet dragging against ground. Dwalin had the clear advantage. Broader, heavier, built like a wall of muscle. And Thorin seemed to bend under the pressure, legs straining.

But he didn’t resist. He gave way, just an inch, before shifting sideways.

In one swift movement, Thorin had hooked one leg behind Dwalin’s heel and pivoted his entire weight downward, right hand grabbing the crook of Dwalin’s elbow. With a yank, he used the momentum of the older dwarf’s own charge to pull him off balance. 

Dwalin hit the ground with a shattering thud, a grunt tearing from his chest as his back slammed against the soil.

The crowd cheered.

Dwalin blinked up at the sky, stunned for a heartbeat, and then barked out a breathless laugh. Thorin quickly offered him a hand, the two friends clasping one another by the shoulder as they walked back to their eager companions.

Jin Ae just stood there, pulse racing.

“You’re flushed.”

Lindir’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and she pressed the back of her palm against her neck.

“It's the sun,” she blamed, clearing her throat, “it’s not good for us to stand so long outside in the heat. Shall we?”

As the crowd dispersed, she gave the training yard one last look, unable to fully pry her eyes away. If Thorin saw her, she had no way of knowing, already rushing to head inside.

Sweat gathered at the base of her neck, dampening the collar of her shirt. Jin Ae had no idea how long she’d been at it, only that her palms were beginning to blister, and her strikes still felt wrong.

She widened her stance and struck the tree once more. It landed with a dull, unsatisfying thud.

“You’re holding it wrong.”

She spun, lifting the sword in defense. A shadow stepped into the moonlight.

Her shoulders dropped, “It’s you.”

She lowered the blade, watching his expression as he walked to her.

The full moon illuminated the garden with pale light, revealing that he was only in his tunic and coat. Even then he carried himself with purpose, and he moved towards her without hurry.

He stopped just behind her, his voice quiet.

“May I?”

She nodded.

His hands, rough and calloused, wrapped around hers on the hilt to shift her grip, adjusting the angle of her wrists.

“You’re gripping it too high,” he murmured. “And your thumb — here.”

She followed his instructions, trying her best to focus even with the feel of his breath against her shoulder. 

His arms brushed hers as he guided them upward, raising the sword to shoulder height. “This is your resting guard. Blade angled, not flat. Keep your elbows in.”

He stepped around her now, to her side. His hand tapped lightly against her hip.

“Feet apart. Left foot forward, for you are right-handed. Knees soft. You move from here —” he splayed his palm against the front of her stomach, “your center, not your arms.”

Something in her belly coiled.

“G-got it.” 

She shifted her weight, already noticing the change in her balance.

“Good. Now try again,” he said, pulling away.

She turned back toward the tree. Raised the sword and drove it into the wood.

He gave a quiet grunt of approval. “Better.”

They trained some more, to the point where her arms started to ache. The back of her shirt, completely drenched with sweat.

"Again," he commanded, voice deep and firm.

"Thorin," she sighed, wincing as she rolled her shoulder. "We've been at this for hours—"

He stepped forward, cutting her off with the hard edge of his voice. 

"The enemy will not care if you are tired. They strike while you hesitate, and you will be dead before you catch your breath."

She swallowed the protest in her mouth, raising her blade again and exhaling hard through her nose.

Thud.

Another swing.

Thud.

Another.

Her arms wobbled.

She faltered mid-strike, the tip of the blade glancing off the side of the tree, boot slipping on the damp grass.

Strong hands caught her before she hit the ground. Thorin’s grip was firm, grounding. One arm wrapped around her waist, the other steadying her upper back.

Their faces, inches away.

"I’m sorry," she said breathlessly, looking up at him.

His hold lingered, and they stayed that way for a while, chest to chest under the silver light. Jin Ae suddenly thought of Galadriel and Celebron, how they, too, stood under the moon; their meeting, a promise that had been sealed long before their existence.

She wondered what happened to a promise between two people, when only one of them was left. If the string breaks, or if it weaves itself anew. 

For a second, it seemed like Thorin was leaning in. Her breathing quickened as she moved closer. Yet the pain in his eyes from that night in the inn flashed before her. So she quickly stepped back, as if struck by lightning.

For a split second, he looked shocked. Dejected, almost. She convinced herself that the hour was late. She was just imagining things.

“You are improving.” He said, voice coarse.

She shook herself out of her trance. “ Thanks.”

They sat on the bench together. With her hair still slick from sweat, she unbuttoned two buttons from her collar, rubbing the skin underneath to soothe her heavy breathing.

He averted his gaze.

“We leave as dawn breaks.”

Her eyes widened, “ The map, is it —”

“Elrond knows of our plan. And we must reach the mountain before Durin’s day.” He stood, hands clasped behind his back. It was then that she noticed the outline of the map in his right pocket.

“We leave only at first light. When the guards are changing the watch. Be prepared.”

“What about your weapons? They have them.”

“Nori, Kíli and Fíli are taking care of it, as we speak.”

“You mean they’re breaking in the weaponry?” She said flatly.

“If you wish to stay here, that is your choice.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Of course I’m coming,” she got up to her feet, walking closer to him. “I just didn’t expect it to be this soon.”

She eyed the wild patches of Feverfew growing at the base of the old marble fountain behind him, suddenly regretting that she hadn’t brought her tools. She’d read they needed to be lifted carefully, roots and all. Jin Ae had planned to return for them later, once the departure date was set, so they'd stay fresh and wouldn’t wilt before they were needed.

“Where are we meeting?”

“Meet us by the river Bruinen. There is a path that will lead us out of the valley.”

She nodded, “I just need to get one last thing, and then I’ll meet you there.”

He placed a firm hand on her shoulder just as she was about to leave.

“Be careful.”

She placed a hand over the one on her shoulder. “I will.”

The morning air was laced with a gentle spring chill. Overhead, the sky blushed, traces of soft pink blooming slowly across the thin clouds like petals unfurling against the pale light. Putting aside her tools, Jin Ae washed the roots of the Feverfew and her hands carefully with water from her thermos. She wrapped the plant delicately with cloth, already thinking of asking Oín's for help in properly drying them later.

"And what do you plan to do with those?"

She felt the voice more than heard it. A gentle blow to the ribs that made Jin Ae shoot to her feet.

Before her stood one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Her long, golden hair fell in soft waves over her shoulder; moonshine in human form, competing for light with the sunrise descending upon them.

“I…” She stumbled over her words, “Dry Feverfew can be used to treat headaches and inflammation. It's a painkiller. I want to dry them.”

The woman tilted her head almost curiously, “That is very clever of you.”

She glided to one of the benches, lowering herself so she sat right below the willow tree. Jin Ae felt compelled to follow, unable to resist, despite knowing her friends were no doubt waiting by the river.

They sat in stillness for a moment, listening to the very first sounds of the earth as it rose from its slumber.

“Thank you for taking care of my granddaughter’s garden.”

Jin Ae stilled, feeling oddly nervous. “I didn’t do much.”

She frowned, adding. “If anything, I’m taking from it. I’m sorry for that.”

A smile formed on the lips of Lady Galadriel, Lady of Lothlorien. And it was as if the very act had bent light itself. "Through the years, it dwelled alone. You gave it your company, and now you gather its flowers for healing. What greater care could there be?"

Jin Ae had to brace herself to speak. “ You know who I am.”

“I do.”

Her eyes were deep like the sea, and blue like the night before a storm. Yet looking into her eyes was like staring into the sun; she can never look at them for too long. There was an intensity in her gaze that her human heart couldn’t bear.

“Can you send me home?”

Lady Galadriel stared into the horizon. “I cannot.”

Jin Ae held her tongue so as not to scoff in disbelief. “If you can’t send me home, who can?”

“The one who brought you here, child,” she answered simply, “is the only one who can bring you home.”

Jin Ae’s heart hammered. “ And who brought me here?”

Galadriel looked at her knowingly, irises shining like pearls in the deep. “What is veiled shall not remain so for long. You will see.”

The surgeon was quiet for a moment, weighing on her cryptic answer.

“You cannot interfere.” Jin Ae said, finally realising.

A slow smile curved on the elf’s lips.

Jin Ae rose slowly and crossed to her pack, discarded on the floor. She tucked the Feverdew inside before slinging the bag over her shoulder, watching Lady Galadriel’s hair gently sway with the morning breeze ; silver threads dancing like mist. 

She opened her mouth, hesitating to ask. “And will I find a way home on this quest?”

Lady Galadriel raised her chin slightly, as if to quietly challenge her. “If that is still your heart’s desire.”

Echoing footsteps rang in the distance, and Jin Ae dipped her head as if to say thank you, quickly pulling herself away as the first golden light of the sun began to rise past the canyon.

When she reached the river, she nearly tumbled into Nori, Kíli, and Fíli — dazed as if she had just woken from a dream. As they scaled the side of the valley, nobody questioned the faraway look in her eyes or the way she kept glancing back at Rivendell.

But when she finally tore her gaze away, he was there.

Thorin stood at the edge of the light with one arm outstretched. She took his hand to cross the space between them, hauling herself off the steep ledge to stand before him. 

The rising sun casted a red glow over them. His blue eyes, burning like the sea catching fire.

It was in the warmth of that morning that time began to unfreeze itself for Jin Ae. The air, cold and clean, with the promise to begin again.