Tada! Here is the next chapter...finally, I'm such a liar with that last chapter lol. I sort of lost the muse, until I had a weird Crazy Rich Asians/CAoS themed dream with Daniel Miller. IDK but got me back on the RA train and off of the Clayton Cardenas and Pedro Pascal express.

I'm going to wing the dialogue a bit, OoO. I like Hobbit fics as much as the next person but half of the FF fics I find follows the movie dialogue word for word throughout the whole trilogy, which makes the fic so predictable and not as entertaining as it could have been. Though honestly, they did finish the fics in like 15-30 chapters whereas I am still stuck in Bree. DETAILS! Sometimes I go overboard with them, but I gotta set the scene and the feels. Also because I'm a crap writer and updater. THE CRACK FEELS!

Some recommendations:

Blueelianor is amazing! Adad, There and There and There Again, and Yule Ties are my fav stories she wrote! So check her out please, you will not be disappointed! So is kkolmakov if you haven't read any of her stuff yet, ver ver steamy with angst! Also if you love Trueblood fic check out SupeSympathizer, howler65, and Kaiseriin. For The Mummy lovers see poorpiratelass and The Sarcastic Raccoon. OMG I love so many writers. Next up will be Teen Wolf, Avengers, North and South, and Walking Dead promos!

In the next few chapters, we ditch Bree and find ourselves lost in the woods being mistaken for a boy. I'll try to make the paragraphs smaller, bc the app on my phone shows that they're quite long. There is nothing as annoying as a chapter without spaces, it makes me claustrophobic.

All rights to Tolkien and Jackson, we know this whole spiel. OCs are mine. Last one- What did you guys and gals think of baby Aria?

Chapter 15- A Cut Only Hurts If It Bleeds

After I put away our things, I feed Petal pieces of beef from the stew Bilbo had sent up previously. Crawling into bed, I let out a groan in self-loathing, rolling over into the pillow. Petal nudges my arm, licking my neck. "Urgh, Petal, I messed up. We need to come up with a plan to get back on the dwarves' and Bilbo's good side," I whisper to the dark room, I turn to her, "how do you feel about creative groveling? I've always fancied the haircut on anti-zombie Alice."

I can tell you right now that the "price of love" are these handfuls of hair surrounding me in this deathtrap of a musty forest.

You're probably asking yourself how I got into this situation and if I am possibly transforming into those Van Helsing-esque werewolves who rip apart their human skin to become hairy villains. I am not. I am doing a Level 10 grovel and beg.

Let us begin at the beginning where we left off, which is technically the end. Or is it the beginning?

Ten hours ago...

It is a very eye-opening (horrible) experience when you wake up to puffy red eyes after a good cry. Can you imagine it? It looks like I have mouse eyes! Squinty, swollen and beady, oh my glob, the beadiness!

All I need now is a cigarette and a beret while sipping wine asking foreigners in a bad French accent, 'what is ze price of love? La petite morte.'

Great balls of merde.

Dabbing my crusty eyes with a wet cloth from the nightstand, I see a fully bedecked Papa Bilbo standing under the lintel with a leash. He had already washed up and packed for the trip, he even made his bed. I should also mention that there was a good one hour until dawn when he decided to wake me up. Woe is me. Bilbo is in total dad mode, meaning no pity for the guilty.

Bilbo tells me that he is taking Petal out for a walk before breakfast, the little fluff ball hops around his furry feet ready for her morning potty run. I nod, stifling a yawn, watching the door close behind them. Gathering my new traveling clothes, I change quickly and pack my bags. Gross, I'm wearing the same bra (read: the only bra). It wouldn't matter in the modern world but in this backward one I am one sweaty lady. This thing will be in tatters by the time we reach Erebor. Smaug will think I was the one robbed not him!

With a huff, I put on my big girl undies and start packing up for the next leg of the trip. Hopefully ending with us more than halfway out of the Lone Lands. It takes only five minutes for me to pack.

At home Sean would take forever to pack, he would grab all his clothes and toss them onto the bed. Only putting the essentials in the suitcase, meaning his normal casual wear and a latex bodysuit. One can only imagine what he gets up to or where. I cringe in both sadness and 'ewwy'. After a moment of silence for my memories, Bilbo comes back with Petal who is much happier now that she's on 'empty' again.

"She is quite a feisty little Miss," Bilbo says calmly. "Petal was quite intent on catching a few rats down the side of the inn, it was quite unfortunate for them."

I can feel a flurry of feels in my gut, making me cringe. A mix of guilt, sadness, and fear of disappointment that is strong enough to give me indigestion, dizziness, and shamelessness to act a total fool.

For reasons only children and eccentric adults can understand, I threw myself at his feet, laying flat on the gross, scratched up floor. It was as awkward as you can imagine it was. With a regular 24/7 parent, it would feel weird, but this is Bilbo, weirdo extraordinaire! Or at least 30% weirdness and 70% sassy.

"I'm sorry Bilbo!" I say into the rough hardwood flooring, "I know I should have told you earlier, I was going to tell you all the time travel what-the-do stuff later. The others as well, but only when you all were ready to hear it! Like once we bonded over a near-death experience or some other equally horrifying shared moment we can laugh about later!" While I went about my rant, my face turning red, I completely missed the amused and forgiving look Bilbo-Dad was giving me. To him, I looked like an absolute faunt who was denied cookies and begun arguing in their own defense.

"—-and I'm sorry! I don't have a dad, well I did. For a bit, we both know how that turned out. You're way better and less psycho, non-existent even! I totally have issues not so non-related to said Psycho-Dad. So, I screwed up, but I promise I'll be better! I can talk feelings and stuff, you remember how we discussed pastry filling? We—"

Feeling a pat on my head I look up, puffing for air, to see Bilbo giving me a stern finger shake. "While I should still be cross with you, I am glad that you were going to tell us later. I'm not angry, I can't imagine what sort of life you have lived before, but I can promise you will live a lovely one in the years to come. I can't fault you for withholding that kind of information to me, it does appear that Balin is correct though." He puts his hand out for me to grab, hoisting me up as far as his arm can go. "Thorin will definitely need time to simmer down, as rude as he is, he is the leader of the Company and any bit of information about the quest is important." His curls give a shake, reprimanding me with their golden shine.

"I know, I feel bad about it. I mean I panicked like a noob!" I mumble into my hands.

"A what?"

"I thought I could handle a new world, that I could kick butt and take names. Save everyone. But I can't! I'm too weak and too…Mannish. Basic story mode practice level." I plop down on the bed, shoulders drooping like a wet noodle.

Patting my shoulder, Bilbo sits beside me and takes my hand.

"Aria, take it from me, from anyone who has ever felt like they could have done more. Life has a way of getting you down and lifting you up. All you need to do is find that thing that's worth fighting for. That spark that-"

"LIGHTS YOUR FORGE!" Kili's muffled exclamation sounds from behind the door. A series of "shh" and "Mahal" reverberate from behind the thin wood. Bilbo stands up to open the door, letting ten dwarves fall to the floor. A small "help" is heard from beneath the pile of beards.

A laugh escapes from my mouth at the sight and Petal goes to sniff at a few boots.

Bofur waltzes in, walking over the hill of dwarrow struggling to their feet. "You see lass, what Kili means is that you have found your spark. The need to protect those important to you. And the only thing Mannish about you is your boot size." He gives me a cheery grin.

"What in Arda are you all doing listening at the door like a group of naughty fauntlings?" Bilbo counters, "A closed door is when you can't see anything inside, if the door is in the way, it does not mean come closer and listen to the voices inside!" He sighs at the guilty faces the
dwarves give him. Honestly, anyone would forgive them because of how adorable they look with their big, round ears and tiny booted feet!

Like overgrown mice. Cinderella-style.

"Okay you lot, what brings you to our room at this time of day?" I ask while crossing the room to retrieve Petal from attacking Bombur's swingy beard. Is she part cat too?

Gesturing with gloved hands Nori comes forward from leaning against the now-closed door. The room just turned into a sardine can and we are the sardines.

"Well, we can't all go about our business without knowing what you know? Yeah?" He lifts a brow, fingers caressing the dagger on his hip.

Narrowing my eyes at that intimidation tactic I counter, "How do I know that you don't already know what I know?"

"If we already knew what you thought we already knew, we would already know." He grins.

"Do you know already?" I squint at him. Ignoring the background murmurs of "Oh Mahal, there are two of them!" and "what do we know?"

"I would wager..." he pauses, "that we do know. At least the important ones do."

"Hey! I resent that!"

"I am important, I am a Prince of Ereb—hehe," Kili snorts, "I'm only joking. You should see your face. Fee?"

"I'm gonna remember that!"
"Kee, you're lucky amad is nowhere near us."

Clapping his hands together, Dori announces their departure in thirty minutes.

—

"So, Thorin, what do you make of the lass's tale?"

A trail of smoke escapes from his lips, as he shakes his head at his oldest friend. "I do not know, far be it from me to believe such a fantastic tale," he sighs, sounding worn and weary, "I don't trust her, yet, she is an unknown factor in our journey. We will allow her to travel with us, the moment she becomes an issue or threat," he gives Dwalin a look, "she will become the elves' problem. They have a liking for taking in stray humans."

Dwalin lets out a grin at his leader's words.

He knows to keep on eye on Thorin's back and the other on the human girl. It was almost as if she dealt in magic, slowly winding her spells to charm the dwarves away from the task at hand. To give them the taste of something 'other'. That in this Tolkien lad's prophecies lies a chance of winning, of claiming back their homeland, but at what cost?

The small glances of loss and hope the girl's eyes show when her gaze stops on the sons of Durin, tells him something else. Something he doesn't want to believe or allow it to come to pass. At this, he grudgingly admits that they have a common goal, protect the line of Durin at all costs.

With the beating of dwarven boots coming down the stairs and the pair of light taps of Bilbo and the girl, marks the Company's need for food, the two see Balin telling the stable boys to prepare the ponies and horses for the long journey home.

"And Balin?" Thorin inclines his head at the front of the tavern. His sharp eyes spying the grandfatherly way his advisor looks at the girl. His advisor's own loss lingering in his eyes dimmed but not smothered.

Turning to gaze at his elder brother, Dwalin refuses to see the look in his eyes, his own pain pushing down on his carefully guarded heart. "Balin will see and speak the truth when he deems its importance. The lass's age and look might influence his decision."

A "hmmm" was all that was heard in reply.

As dawn arrives and the sun lingers on the top of their heads the Company slowly makes their way on the road. Not a single one sees the three figures looming in the distance. If you were to look closely upon their person, you would make out a torn yellowed hide covered in black scratchy script. A Durin's bounty.