Kcaelle: Hello Dear! Thank you so much! I always love hearing from new readers!

GeekatHeart21: Thanks so much! I'm ever so glad that you've taken to my tale. I hope you continue to enjoy it!

BlackGoldSaw: While this isn't what you may have first expected in my story, I do so hope that you enjoy my take on it, whichever direction I decide to take. I always welcome reviews and I'm very glad to have heard from you, so pleas continue. And thank you so much for the blessing of the muses. I adore Greek mythology as well.

Dalonega Noquisi: Agh but the tension! The sweet tension! Don't worry, dearie, I would be a horrible person if I let Ania and Fili go on like this forever. It would be positively inhumane!

Heeey. See I can update at a relatively decent timeframe… right? yeah alright just read the chapter.

Chapter 26

"Who'll cross first?" Bilbo eyed the rickety boat with open suspicion. The thing hardly looked as though it would survive another journey across, let alone enough to get the entire company across.

"I shall," stated Thorin as though it were obvious, "and you will come with me, and Fili and Balin. That should put the boat at full capacity."

Ania pursed her lips, tentatively approaching the boat. She glanced back at Thorin, "May I…?

The dwarf king nodded his assent, though to what he did not know.

Dragging a finger over the grain of the wood, she pursed her lips at the shoddy make-up of the boat. It would not carry more than two and remain secure enough for two trips. Not without a little help.

She stepped back glancing up at the thick canopy overhead, "Now if only…"

Following her friend's gaze, Lyra's luminescent stare found the dark canopy. She narrowed her eyes at the tree-cover. It was sparse –well sparser– here. Perhaps…

A small breeze rippled through the forest, startling the company as the leaves shifted overhead. Such sounds had not been heard since their arrival to the dark forest. It seemed almost too ordinary in the face of all the bazaar quirks that made up this wholly unnatural wood. Nonetheless, it was a welcome change, as was the thin stream of sunlight that broke through the gloom, coming to rest lightly on the faerie's golden head.

Ania tilted her chin up towards the feeble ray of light, her feet slipping from the earth the light wove around her in an intricate dance, cradling her body with delicate tenderness. It was an incredible sight, her hair splayed as though she were underwater. Her wings rose to full height behind her, displacing the light in a brilliant display of drifting sparkles and whirling glimmers.

Ania glanced lazily over her shoulder, easily picking out Lyra's weakened form leaning heavily against the twisted trunk of an overhanging tree. Her forehead was pressed gently to the bark, eyes half-lidded, dragging her fingers in fond caress over the rough skin of the tree. Her lips were quirked at the corners, as though she were council to some private joke... between herself and the great tree. The dragoness lifted her eyes from the ground, her eerie gaze alight with the closest thing to peace Ania had seen in her friend since they found the sorcerer's mark at the gateway.

And for one… glorious moment… the voices, and dark mutterings, faded from both of their minds.

And then it was gone.

Ania did not miss the subtle wince from her friend as voices swelled like a rising tide around the otherwise imperceptible barrier that had formed around them. She dropped to the ground and, after offering an "excuse me for a moment" to Thorin, approached the dragoness, stepping resolutely from the light and into the shadows. She stood tall in front of her hunched form, eyes alight with a certain determination.

What –the though was almost labored– are you doing?

A smile touched the faerie's lips as she drew up a hand and whispered, "Aman o Vara tel' Seldarine tavari." She blew into her palm, wisps of golden dust scattering the particles across her dear friend's form, where they came to rest as glittering stars in the dark. She knew her magic did not work on the dragoness, but that's not what she had been aiming for. *Sindarin– Bless with the protection of the spirits of the wood (spell)*

The soft golden glow of her dust slipped from Lyra's shoulders and from where it had settled in her hair, and seeped into the tree she was leaning on. The tree groaned, a sound echoed by its neighbors, until it carried through what might have been the entire wood. A leafy bough dipped down from the thick ceiling above, brushing gently across Lyra's forehead where it deposited a lush verdant mist onto the woman.

Lyra breathed deep, allowing the natural magic to be absorbed into her body. She pushed away from the trunk of the tree, raising a hand to touch leafy hand. She smiled, –though none could see it in the dark– and glanced down at her dearest friend, then promptly puffed a cloud of the same green smoke into her face.

Ania gagged on the vapor. It didn't necessarily taste or smell bad, rather it was wholly and completely unexpected. So unexpected that she was forced into a fit of hysterical giggles, which Lyra accented with her own soft laughter. They kept their voices low –well, Ania did anyways– so as to not draw any more attention to themselves.

"What was that for?" Ania pouted humorously.

A new light shone in her friend's eye. One of relief. The voices. They are gone. The trees have blocked them out. Why did we not think of this before? The question was far too innocent.

The faerie turned a baleful eye on her companion though she could not suppress the smile in her voice, "I see what you're doing. Not funny. Neither of us had any energy for a spell anyways." She paused, "How did you manage it?"

It was not a spell. She corrected. I asked it to move.

Brows arched high as she eyed her friend with surprise. "'it' being the tree?"

The dragoness shrugged. Believe me or not, that is what I did.

Ania rolled her eyes, "Aaaalright, ya treehugger."

I seem to recall that it is your family lives in trees. Came the amused retort.

"Touché," she laughed softly, spinning on her heel and traipsing back into her pool of light. "Sorry about that," she nodded to Thorin. "I know what to do now." Gesturing dramatically at the boat once more, she raised her voice with a flourish, "Ama kara polda." *Sindarin– strengthening spell*

The boat groaned and shivered, intricate golden veins appearing throughout the small craft. Satisfied, Ania stepped back and grinned, "There. Now it should withstand the task which you have in mind." She glanced at the neighboring shoreline. "Hmmm… Onta tea kalian" she flicked her wrist, casting a rope of light across the channel, careful to loop it through two iron circlets welded onto the side. *Sindarin– Create a line of light (spell)*

Stepping out of the shadows, Lyra crossed the muddy clearing, stepping soundlessly over the pebbles. Upon approaching her friend by the shore, she made a point of passing by Fili. Glancing down at the blonde-haired dwarf, she promptly placed a finger under his chin and closed his mouth with an audible snap. Best keep that closed. Lest the pixies decide to nest.

The look which she received from the dwarf-prince was one of such utter encroaching self-doubt and ruthless turmoil that Lyra found herself turning towards her friend in askance. What spoke even further of the situation developing between her friend and the dwarf –which she was beginning to consider incredibly unnecessary and ridiculously atrocious– was the fact that Ania, in sensing Lyra's attention and more importantly the reason for her attention, was studiously avoiding eye contact. Whatever was going on between the two, it was perfectly clear to the dragoness that it was getting way out of hand.

She gave Fili and awkward pat on the shoulder, unsure what else to do. I will speak with her.

Relief flashed across the dwarf's expression and he gave her a nod of gratitude. He looked as worn as the rest of the group.

Wait. She placed a hand on his shoulder as he attempted to make a hasty retreat. You must understand… in her lifetime, Ania has lived through more than anyone ought to. I do not know what is causing this. But whatever is hindering her ability to trust you… or perhaps herself… it far surpasses the bounds of your relationship alone. If you truly care for her as I believe you to and seek to rectify this, you must brace yourself for what aspects of her past might come to light. Does this make sense to you?

Eyes wide, Fili nodded solemnly. He had never considered that Ania might've had a violent past. Or that said past would ever affect her ability to form accords with others. He blinked up at the woman with new eyes. Perhaps that was why the two women got along so well. Lyra's rough past had been clearly visible in both cold demeanor and scarred completion. Ania's, on the other hand, was harder to see, hidden by her charming smile and light disposition. She didn't have scars on the outside… not from what he could see. That didn't mean they weren't there.

He sighed, it would be a long day indeed.

…..

Crossing the river took most of the day, sapping every ounce of energy with the arduous task of hauling the small craft through the grasping fingers of rapids and intertwining currents. Burdened with the sorry lack of food, what would have been a difficult task to begin became that much more strenuous.

To make matters worse, the moment the final group –being Bombour, Lyra and Ania (well kinda, since Ania can fly)– set foot on the neighboring shore, a great deer came flying from the shadows of the forest, charging directly for the center of the company where it wrecked considerable havoc on the dwarves.

The sudden appearance of the animal sparked the dormant predator within Lyra, turning her clarion gaze obscured and feral. She leapt from the boat, nails elongating into wicked talons as she chased the guardian of the enchanted river. Her claws sliced through its jugular with cold-blooded precision, its coppery blood splattering across her face and dripping from her hair.

A shiver traveled up Ania's spine as she saw the bestial gleam in her friend's eye. She stood there, shoulders hunched as she crouched over the steaming carcass, her prey.

The dwarves were cheering, eager to carve up her kill and replenish their food supply, but Ania was more concerned with her friend's behavior, immediately appearing by her side, jogging her elbow, "Lyra –"

The dragoness hissed, swatting at the annoying faerie, buzzing about her like a fly.

Pale brows touched her hairline as Ania reared back in exasperation. "Oh no, you did not just hiss at me. " Spinning wildly, she delivered a sharp slap, ignoring the sticky blood that covered her hand thereafter. "Rocen svern," she barked, in Lyra's native tongue, "jaka!" *Draconic– wake up now!*

Lyra groaned, blinking in confusion as she registered her actions. Her tired eyes found Ania's. This is not good.

"No," Ania agreed, wiping her hands on her trousers with distaste, "it is not."

…..

The deeper they ventured into the forest, the denser the webbing… and the thicker the sorcery. It was worse than having the voices in her head. At least, it was for Lyra. Ania seemed able to hold it off well enough, but for the dragoness –who's internal makeup was already at war to begin with– being connected to the sickly spirit of the forest was causing for episodes of feral blackouts where her animalistic side would take over instinctively in the face of a threat. Luckily, this had not occurred too many times and, when it did, she was usually able to get a handle on it before any real damage was done. That or Ania got in a good backhand to snap her out of it.

Furthermore, the now dead deer had knocked Bombour into the magical water. This was great in the sense that he was put into a deep sleep and the company no longer had to listen to his constant complaining. However, on the down side, the remaining dwarves –because there was no way in Hell that Ania or Lyra were going to do it– were reduced to toting the rather large dwarf around the forest.

And if that wasn't annoying enough, Ania was now determined to keep a constant eye on her friend, despite Lyra's insistence that she could handle it. In all her years, Lyra had always despised feeling so powerless In the face of her own actions. She had even requested that Ania revoke the protection of the wood, not that it did much good. The forest had unintentionally awakened something inside her, something she had been repressing for years. Something she had vowed to keep locked away. She could not continue like this. Not for much longer.

…..

Consciousness was getting harder and harder to retain. It had been difficult to function before, but now it was nearly impossible. She was beginning to stray from the group now, distance herself from the dwarves. Thorin was beginning to suspect something. Who wouldn't? The elves were closer too. There were more of them. She was sure of it. They knew who she was and that she could sense them.

Little lights were appearing beside the road, if you could call it that. One of the dwarves mistakenly referred to them as faerie light… much to his chagrin after Ania's indignant lecture on the subject. The faerie knew the truth. Lyra could see it in her eyes. Those lights were no accident. They were herding the company… and it had worked. Once Bombour had woken up from his magic-water-induced sleep, he had gone on and on about the wonderful delicacies he had dreamt about. This in turn had led to the dwarves chasing the magic "faerie" lights. The path was lost. And so were they.

And then the spiders came.

…..

ALL the Angst! Its just so much fun to torture my characters. I may have a problem. Like it? Hate it? Can I come out of hiding now?