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Fate be Changed

She slayed the dragon, reclaimed the Mountain, birthed a forest, and won a war. But that was just the beginning. The past has a funny way of coming back to haunt you. Horcruxes and Dark Lords and quests to destroy them both, this time though, she's not alone. She has a Fellowship at her side.

WARNING
Canon-divergance, fem!Hobbit!Harry, allusions to History and Culture not covered in the films, slash, het.

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Welcome to Part Two

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CHAPTER THIRTY ONE – New Dawn

When the storm draws nigh
dreams will shatter before your eyes
know that you are not alone
when the battle starts
I will comfort your restless heart
you'll know that you are home
(You're not alone – Lyrics written and owned by Erutan/katethegreat19)

It had been three days since Willowyn had returned the Arkenstone to the house of Durin, to Thorin, in front of Dain, his men, and the rest of the company, declaring him King while blazing with the light of the Valar themselves. Dain had seemingly come to his senses in the light cast from within her, but he was by no means wholly saved from his relapse into gold sickness. He was aware of it now, and thus watching his own behaviour carefully, but there was no denying that Smaug's curse was still lingering within the mountain. Knowing this, Dwalin had been performing thrice the number of checks on the treasury than before and had already been forced to arrest three of his guard recruits for dereliction of duty, theft, and assault when he caught them stealing from the treasury and they attacked him in order to keep hold of their spoils. Who knew how many of them had fallen to it already in the season and a half since the dragon himself had been slain.

It was an even bigger problem when one took into mind that there were Dwarrows still pouring into the mountain from near and far. Thus far, only those who had directly confronted the sickness in their own minds were immune from a relapse; those who had merely distracted themselves with combat and the war were still susceptible to the curse. And there was no way of telling which Dwarf had conquered that sickness within, and which had merely set it aside in favour of more important things. Thorin had been forced to close the treasury, and lock it down tightly much to the disgruntlement of the accountants, many of whom had been itching to get a proper itinerary of the horde.

Gloin and his son, Gimli, an accountant like his father, found themselves just as unhappy and out of work as the rest of them, and while Gloin had leave to come and go as he pleased from the treasury, his son did not. And he was not willing to risk the mind of his one and only child, not for every single scrap of gold within that hall. They found other work, grumbling half-heartedly as dwarves were wont to do, Gloin took up the finances of Dori's new tailoring business, now taking off within the mountain with each and every member of the company now sporting clothing made by his hand, while his son ended up handling the books of Bofur's modest toymaking stall. Despite being one of the Thirteen Lords, Bofur had decided to remain a toymaker, he loved the faces of the little ones when he handed over a new beloved plaything to their dirty little fingers too much to just give it up in favour of a life of indolence and excess.

Something that was surprisingly common amongst them. Bifur certainly had not stopped his tinkering, he seemed to, in fact, take more joy in it than before now that he could afford better tools, and had more customers to serve. Ori had found his way into the Scribe Halls within the library catacombs and had yet to actually leave them as he began the long and laborious task of transcribing and editing the official chronicle of their journey (the one he'd written before hand being a private historical accounting for the royal archives. He left out those... less flattering moments, as was the norm for Dwarvish records, those petty squabbles and character flaws, shameful moments. Gloin calling Willowyn a whore, the majority of them believing Bag End a brothel, the princes allowing trolls to steal their ponies while on watch, Willow lashing out at Thorin and Gloin, Thorin's rudeness to both Lord Elrond and Beorn, their lies to Bard, and the theft of the weapons in Laketown. However, unusually for Dwarvish Chronicles, he left the rest in. Their injuries, their capture by the trolls, Willowyn hiding her gender in the beginning in order to gain their respect as a warrior and because of her own fears over how a female would be treated, their imprisonment at the hands of the Elf King of Mirkwood, their enthralment with the dragon's gold, even to the point of bartering Willowyn with the Elf King. He wrote everything up to, and including, the Battle of the Five Armies, Willowyn's coma from using the Arkenstone, her lost memories, and finally, the return of the Arkenstone to the Line of Durin – because that was the end of their adventure in Ori's eyes. The end of their trials. Everyone healthy, whole, alive, and happy, with Thorin's rule over Erebor irrefutable.

Though, given how things were progressing between a certain banished elf-maiden and Dwarvish prince, he fancied he would have to write a separate chronicle for their romance. Kili and Tauriel were turning so many heads, and inflaming so many tempers amongst the more conservative dwarves. The nobles were practically apoplexy with rage at the fact a Son of Durin would turn his nose up at their many fine daughters in order to shack up with an elf, not even a noble, or a royal, but a Silvan elf, a female of common birth. A guard. Others were wondering just how it happened, because surely both of them were so filled with hatred for one another's race that the thought of romance never even entered their heads. They were eagerly awaiting the tale to be written, especially if a marriage was looking to be in the books. Dwarves took romance in the royal houses very seriously. The Chronicle of Thili and Dis was still much beloved even now over a century later, and long after Thili's unfortunate death at the hands of Orcs while defending the Blue Mountains.

Nori was already ruling the budding underhive with an iron fist, and shadowy blade – without anyone knowing his name, or even seeing his face. He was spoken only of in whispers. Thorin had installed him as his Spymaster, and already the thief had begun to spread his feelers through the mountain, and a little outside of it, forming connections to the Iron Foot warriors, gathering blackmail for when they returned, favours to be cashed in, gold to be exchanged. And no one outside of the company, and Thorin's sister, had the faintest idea of what Nori was up to. As far as everyone, even young Thorin the Third, was aware, Nori was one of the few Lords to have retired in order to live off his gold. He slipped in and out of rags and riches, stalking through dark tunnels with all the confidence of a Hobbit in a larder.

In hindsight, Willow decided, it was probably Nori that figured her out.

So far, everyone knew she was intending on joining Gandalf when he travelled to Rivendell for a meeting of the White Council, that she had plans on heading up to the Shire to settle her affairs with both Bilbo Baggins and her father. And that she would later meet with one of the parties travelling from the Blue Mountains and make the rest of the journey back to Erebor with them. That was the plan they knew of.

She had not enlightened them to the fact that she and Gandalf would be going to the Shire first, in order to handle her affairs, and then speak to the rangers on attachment there about the war brewing on the horizon. That they would then be going south for the White Council meeting where the fate of the Ring would be decided. Well, that was what Gandalf believed was going to happen. Willowyn had already made her mind up. The Ring was to be destroyed no matter what. Informing the White Council of what they planned to do was merely a courtesy. Nothing more. No matter what was said, she had every intention of crossing over into Mordor, walking if she had to, and throwing that soul fragment into Mount Doom (Who the hell names a Volcano, Mount Doom? Talk about your clichés). Horcrux were not objects to be allowed to exist, even sealed away. They had unpleasant manners of getting themselves found, and then perverting and corrupting the minds of whatever unfortunate soul happened to find them. Whether it really was 'The One' or not, she was going to destroy it.

She had not expected to return to her rooms and find both Nori and Thorin waiting for her in the lounge.

Thorin had been... odd, lately. Withdrawn, prone to long periods of silence and thought, hiding away from all and sundry with the exception of Willow herself, he often remained frustratingly tightlipped when it came to matters of governance, turning to Fili and handing the matter off to him. If Willow could liken it to anything, it was almost as if Thorin had lost all confidence in his abilities as a ruler, as a leader. He didn't throw himself into drink as she had seen some of the Dwarves do, but he didn't seem to trust himself anymore. His decisions, when he did make them, he requested Balin and Fili to check, to gain their opinions on whether or not those decisions were for good or ill before having them enacted. And while some could say he was finally giving Fili the training he needed to take over as King, Willowyn, and indeed many of the other members in the company, thought otherwise. Thorin did not trust himself as King. He had lost his mind to gold sickness once, he had nearly driven them down the path of ruin, and he could not forgive himself, or trust himself, because of it.

"Thorin, Nori," she greeted in confusion, "What's going on?" she asked as she set her bag down and swung the shawl she was often seen with these days as it was so cold in the deeper reaches of the mountain where the Royal Chambers that the Company had taken over now resided.

"You've been keeping secrets, lassie," Nori scolded from his seat, watching her shrewdly.

She blinked in confusion, "I beg your pardon?"

"You have been planning something, Mistress Proudfoot. There is more to your supposed journey to the Shire than you are sharing," Thorin rumbled almost accusingly as icy blue eyes studied her face, narrowing at the slight widening of her eyes, and the lines around her eyes tightening ever so slightly.

"Is it anythin' ta do with that nasty little ring Ori says you have?" Nori asked lightly, shocking her into physically taking a step back, her hand dropping to the small pouch at her hip that she hadn't been without since her memory returned, and Fili brought it back to her hands. Thorin's eyes narrowed further into angry slits, that more than proved it. That 'nasty little ring', as Nori put it, was at the centre of some plan that involved Balin's daughter and her journey back west, and likely as not, this meeting of the White Council he had received word of as well. "That's a yes," Nori sassed with a glance to Thorin that was equal parts disturbed, dismayed, and angry.

"It is also nothing to do with you," Willow pointed out trying to keep her voice gentle even as her heart hammered painfully in her chest. She didn't want a confrontation with them, she hadn't even wanted them to know of the Ring, not with the curse still upon the mountain.

Thorin growled, low in his throat making Nori and Willow look at him. "You are a member of this company, and a dear friend, it is everything to do with me," he snarled jumping to his feet and striding over to loom over her, as if he could intimidate her into telling them, "Everything to do with us. Do you think any of us could rest easy knowing you were off roaming the wilds alone?"

She bristled pressing her lips together against the desire to shout him down, if she started, she would tell them too much –

"Gandalf and I will be fine," she told him tightly, keeping her tongue leashed, "Tauriel has agreed to escort us through the forest, and Beorn will be meeting us on the otherside. Gandalf said something about asking his feathered friends to take us over the mountain, after that the Rangers will be escorting me back to the Shire from Rivendell and then up to the Blue Mountains," she explained shortly.

Nori sighed, "You're a fair liar, lassie, but yer not good enough ta fool me," he pointed out blandly. "This Ring, must be somethin' pretty unpleasant given how horrified Ori was when he said anythin' about it." He smirked unhappily when she glared at him from over Thorin's shoulder.

"You have a Ring of Power," Thorin accused. "All but a few are accounted for. Where did you find it? Which one is it?" He made as if to grab her by the shoulders, but like with almost every action he had taken since she woke up, he aborted it before actually laying a hand on her, recoiling as if his fingertips were burnt.

She grimaced, "You have just found your home again, reclaimed it. Thorin, please, it is not your concern. We're handling it, Gandalf and I," she promised locking eyes with him, "All things considered, this... is far less dangerous than sneaking past a dragon," she pointed out, desperately trying to impress on him that it was in hand, that he didn't have to concern himself, they would handle it. "Please, please, please, put it from your minds. Long have you waited to return here, and now you have. I will not take you away from here, no matter what the cause. We can handle this. I promise."

He sighed, "Very well," he murmured, "If you are sure..."

"I am," she said firmly.

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But it was not the end of it.

As far as Willow knew, that was that; but behind her back, neither Nori nor Thorin were quiet about their findings. And before dawn, the rest of the Company were aware of her plans, and of the nasty little Ring she had hidden upon her person. Between the ten senior members, they wrung the younglings dry of information, sneakily, carefully, casually, violently, and ruthlessly. Fili, Kili, Ori, and young Thor didn't stand a chance against the combined efforts of their siblings, cousins, friends, and King. They spilt everything they knew about the ring, from that protections they had pooled together to silence it, how it amplified the gold sickness in the beginning, how and where Willow even found it, and when she noticed it whispering within the mountain. From there, they were able to guess at what she intended on doing with it, that pragmatic sensible young lass. Destroy it. But as with all such rings there was only one, completely certain and sure fire way of destroying such an item – and that was where the arguments started up.

They all wanted to go with her, to the last Dwarf, every single one of them demanded to be allowed on her quest to destroy it. But, this time, not all of them could. Erebor was only just getting back on her feet, her legs as shaky as a newborn foal's, she needed them to hold her up and help her back up properly. She needed strong governance and leadership. Most of them had taken key roles and responsibilities in the two seasons since the night they'd destroyed Samug, opening businesses, running the kitchens, the guard, the underworld, the mines, the accounts, the treatise. They couldn't drop them and go haring off on another adventure like they had on the Quest for Erebor – no one but they even knew of the ring, and that was the way they wanted to keep it. As far as the citizens of Esgaroth knew, the Green Lady was returning to the Gentle West with the Grey Pilgrim in order to speak with her kin, handle her family affairs, and then she would be returning to them by the first snow of winter. There was no reason, known to them, for the Thirteen Lords to leave the mountain with her.

In the end though, they settled on who would be staying to continue their duties within the mountain, keep it running, and who would be going with their Hobbit to protect her. There was a lot of grumbling, a few scattered arguments, but those selected were the best options available, and so they began to prepare, quietly, so as not to clue her in on their actions. The last thing any of them wanted was for her to steal away from the mountain in the dead of night unnoticed, and she would, if she knew they planned on joining her. She wouldn't want them to accompany her and put themselves in harms way so soon after regaining their home.

Gandalf returned with the first flush of summer; the mountain gates flung open in order to catch every breath of wind to alleviate the heat within her halls, markets within the entrance hall spilling out into the forest, teaming with Men and Dwarves as they showed their wares and they traded under the sun beneath the bows of the white trees that rustled gently in the chilled wind coming up off the lake to the south. He rode one of Thranduil's fastest elks, cloven hooves thundering across the winding stone path that cut through the white grove, sending Men and Dwarves jumping out of his way with oaths and curses of surprise and anger.

In the mountain, a runner had already been dispatched in search of the King, they were all under strict orders to inform the Thirteen Lords about Tharkun's return before he could contact the Green Lady. At this time of day, the King would be in only one place. Sparring with whichever of the Lords was available in the West Training Hall. And in this particular moment, much to the astonishment and disapproval of noble onlookers, he was enchanging blows with the Green Lady herself.

They wore plain tunics and trousers, the King in dark shades of black and blue, the Green Lady in whites and green; he wore his hair tied back, out of his face, while she had hers tucked up beneath a scarf to keep her still too-short citrine curls from her eyes; heavy iron capped work boots that no King but theirs would have worn outside of a battle, and the Halfling was barefoot as always, her bare ankles and pale toes almost obscene if not for the complete lack of shame she had displaying them. Their fighting styles could not have been more different without using completely different weapons. Like night and day.

They wielded the blunted wooden practice swords, smoothed and weighted to perfection, and danced around one another, the sound of wood clashing into one another ringing up and echoing throughout the halls.

"My King!" the runner called desperately during a lull in the exchange, "Tharkun has arrived!" he called in Khuzdul.

"Tharkun?" Willow echoed, "Gandalf?" She had heard him called that before.

Almost all at once, Thorin, Willow, Kili, Dwalin, Bofur, Bombur, Bifur, Nori, and Gloin made for the door, forcing the poor runner to flatten himself against the wall and watch the stampede with wide brown eyes – particularly the way the Green Lady used a decorative moulding to jump over the heads of the Lords in order to get ahead of them with a laugh.

Dams and Dwarrows had to jump out of their path with exclamations as they saw the contingent racing through the corridors, far from dignified, or graceful, or even majestic. The Halfling in the lead, her hair wild and a grin stretching from ear to ear as pale feet flashed in the darkness of the corridors, practically flying as she kept ahead of the males in her wake, their heavy boot falls a contrasting avalanche of thunderous noise.

Willow didn't know why they were all running, just that apparently they were racing to see who could get to Gandalf first, and this, this was a game she had often played as a little girl with Bilbo, and something she hadn't done since the Fell Winter when he came out of his depression and decided he was far too old and respectable to engage in such acts like a Fauntling. So she laughed now, because it had been so long, and it was fun and childish and silly.

And it wasn't like she'd ever played fair when she raced Bilbo either, she remembered as she came to a staircase and launched herself down it, landing in a roll that she popped out of – and then proceeded to vault over the newly installed banister railings.

Several people screamed as she dropped, giggling, and then landed, rolling a floor below on a different stair case.

She peered up and offered a cheeky wave when Dwalin leaned over the banister to swear at her.

To Gandalf, he only had a vague idea as to why there might have been a clamour inside the mountain when he arrived, swinging off his borrowed elk in the entrance hall. But he was entirely unprepared, a moment after it had been escorted off by a young guard to be fed and watered, to have a giggling Hobbit barrel into his shins, flushed, panting, and out of breath.

"Hello to you too, Miss Willowyn," he greeted in amusement as sparkling green eyes, bright and lively, peered up at him with a wide dimpled grin on her face.

"Good morning Gandalf," she returned as she stepped back and pressed a hand to her chest, trying to get her breath back even as she laughed.

"To what do I owe such a pleasant welcome for?" the Grey Wizard asked, smiling under his bushy hat as he leaned on his staff.

She broke into a hiccuped giggle, "I have no idea. Everyone suddenly started running for the door when we found out you were here, it devolved into a race. I won," she added with another childish giggle as she straightened up, "Oh, ehehe, I haven't done that in years," she admitted wiping a bit of moisture from one eye, feeling light hearted and giddy.

"Gandalf." Willow turned, even as the Wizard looked up, to face Thorin and the rest of the Company that followed them from the training halls. Willow's grin faded at the look on his face, her expression turning confused, and slightly anxious at the cold expression of barely veiled hostility on the Dwarf King's face. "A moment of your time, if you please? Willow, could you fetch Balin and the rest of the Company please?" he asked, his voice thawing considerably when he looked over to her.

She nodded slowly, "Very well. Where will you be?"

"The East Wing Royal Parlour," he stated flatly. She knew that one, it was the blue study just outside the King's direct family's personal quarters, it was pretty much considered Thorin's 'office' at this period in time where he spent much of his time going over treatise and other such contracts.

She nodded and turned to leave, glancing over her shoulder warily to watch as Thorin and the others gestured to Gandalf to follow them. That was... worrying.

Even if Gandalf seemed so amused by it.

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"She will not be going alone," Thorin stated without preamble once they were assembled within the parlour. They all knew it would not take their Hobbit long to find all of their missing group, but it would afford them enough time to argue their way with a Wizard, or beat it into him if they must. The Parlour itself was a pleasant square room, two large fire places framed it, the wall facing the door was decorated with a large mosaic featuring the pearl farms deep within the bowels of the mountain in vivid shades of blue and white. Scrolls filled cases from floor to ceiling, and above each fireplace was the shield and weapon of a Durin, passed down through the family line. There was still a faint smell of stale air and dust in the air, but for the most part, the room seemed to have been given a new lease of life. Sat behind his desk, Thorin glared across at the wizard, Dwalin on his left, Nori in the shadows in the corner on his right. Sprawled out in chairs or leaning against the fireplaces were the others, and stood, leaning on his staff in the middle of the room with an expression of utmost entertainment on his face, was the Grey Pilgrim, looking as though Thorin had just told him the funniest joke in Middle Earth.

"Of course not," he agreed benignly, immediately taking the fires out of all present who were wound tight ready to argue their way. Looks were exchanged, and the Wizard tilted his hat up in fond exasperation, "I would not be so foolish as to try and part you now, not after everything you have been through. That was why I beseeched Lord Elrond to send you the invitation to the White Council regardless. He had been under the impression that Miss Willowyn would have informed you of her unwelcome burden."

Thorin physically bared his teeth, "She did not. And had taken great pains to hide her intentions from us."

Gandalf nodded, an expression of sadness flickering over his features. "I see. Our intention is indeed to return to the Shire first and foremost, once there, we will pass down to Rivendell to attend the White Council and await their verdict on what is to be done with the Ring."

Bofur scoffed, "Tha' same way you 'waited for their verdict' in Rivendell?" he demanded, grinning. He knew full well that Gandalf played a distraction for them to leave that very night, as did almost every single Dwarf in the Company, save those rather more obtuse members.

He gave the Toymaker a sparkling look of innocence, "Why Bofur, I haven't the faintest notion of what you mean," he informed the Dwarf as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

Thorin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in an aggrieved manner, he never got headaches like this while leading the Dwarves of Ered Luin. Hobbits. They make everything more complicated. WIZARDS were worse. Throw the two into a mix and it was a melting pot for disaster. "Whom else will be attending this meeting?" he asked flatly.

"Myself, Lord Elrond, the head of my Order, Saruman the White, the Lady Galadriel if she can spare the power, your representative, Willowyn, a representative of Lake Town, of the Woodland Realm, Gondor will have a representative, as will the Rangers of the North. King Thranduil intends to send his son, Legolas, in his place as he cannot leave Mirkwood in its current state. I have made overtures to see that Bard is the representative of Lake Town, he has a good head on his shoulders and the interests of his people at heart. Gondor will be sending the son of their Steward, Ecthelion, he's a little old, but he will be accompanied by one of his children. Either his son, Denethor, or one of his daughters. And the Rangers will be sending their Elessar," Gandalf listed, opting not to mention that said Elessar would be the future King of Gondor if Elrond got his way. Aragorn was still too young at present, barely twenty and three years, just a pup by Dunedain standards.

Gandalf then gave them a shrewd look, "And which among you will be joining us for this journey?"

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Bam. Done. Oh my god, I'm so sorry it took this long. I thought the last chapter was a wall. This one... more like a small series of little cliffs I had to climb up. Still. We're into Part Two now!

The Lord of the Rings arc had now officially begun! And almost all of it is going to be AU.

Also, it will see the beginning of more Harry Potter references, if only because they are now more relevant, it isn't going to suddenly be thrown in your face every chapter, but it will be brought up more often. Willow will explain why it's being brought up more often in story, and why it wasn't brought up earlier. That scene is planned. And yes, I do have who is in the Fellowship planned. You'll just have to wait and see.

Hopefully, hopefully updates will be more frequent now that I'm actually into the second part. It's the inbetween bits that kill me.

How'd you like the new cover?