Hello, all my faithful readers. I have to say something to you before you go on to read this chapter. As you may know, this story is a work in progress as is my writing in general. When I began this story I was really just messing around but then it went on to consume a large part of my life and evolved into so much more. Don't worry, I'm not quitting or anything. However, I have had to go back and make a few changes from time to time, some small and some large. As you may be aware, if you are an old reader, up to this point I have never described the mark on Sara's hand and honestly, that was because I had no idea what it should look like. But I didn't let that get in the way of writing my story. But no more. I have finally had a breakthrough... one that probably should have been obvious.

The mark on Sara's hand is now the mark of only two Valar. Aule and Yavanna. For those that don't know Aule is also known as Mahal to the dwarves and he was the one who created them. Yavanna is his wife. This is a description of Sara's mark I added to chapter 1:

"It's lines were sharp and crisp in the shape of a blacksmith's hammer. Twinning up and around the hammer's handle was an ivy that bore both a single fruit and flower."

Accordingly, I have gone back through chapters 1-9 and made some adjustments as well as chapter 21.

Good things to know: both Sauron and Saruman were taught by Aule at some point (students gone bad) so he has more reason than most ot want to take down. Really there are lots of reasons that it should be Mahal and Yavanna but I won't go into detail here.

In truth, I have been doing some major edits to the entire book as I go along. This does not really affect the plot in any immediate way but does affect the characterization in some ways. For instance, I removed some things from Sara's vision in Lady Galadiels mirror, particularly anything pertaining to her family. The mirror now just shows black when they try to see Sara's past or earth. You don't need to go back and reread anything to continue. But if you want to there are some fun tweaks and changes. I can't do this without you readers so thanks for your support. If ever you come across a spot in the book that doesn't make sense, seems redundant, or you spot any problems... please let me know so I can address them.

Chapter 58: Mark of Aule

Sara gritted her teeth turning her face away as Oin tugged a stitch closed on her arm. She leaned back against the wall and surveyed the small room, trying to distract herself. Moth-eaten drapes hug across the boarded-up window and dust lay like grey snow over everything. The floor sagged beneath her chair setting it off-kilter. Thorin leaned in the empty doorway watching the townspeople milling about in the large gathering room just outside.

With the Master's mansion in a charred heap under the surface of the lake along with several homes and buildings, it had been necessary to find an area large enough to tend to the wounded and house those who were without. Eric had suggested they come to the abandoned inn. Surprisingly it was not in total ruin. Besides organizing a revolution Eric and his men had been repairing the inn in secret to use as a base. Several of the larger key rooms were in good enough repair to be serviceable. They had also collected a small stockpile of supplies and weapons which they volunteered.

"Why can you never resist the urge to injure yourself?" asked Oin. Sara hissed, as his needle and thread bit into her arm before he tied off the last stitch.

"I don't do it on purpose," she said, her voice rough.

"I know," he said, patting her arm gently. "I just dislike seeing you injured constantly."

"You and me both," she said, wheezing. Oin pulled the herb pouch from a bowl of hot water where it had been steeping. He wrung it out lightly and then held it out to her.

"Hold this to your face," he instructed. "It will help clear out your lungs." She took the damp pouch and held it over her nose and mouth with her good hand. As he began to bandage her arm a pungent bitter odor filled her lungs sending her into a coughing fit.

"Is it supposed to do that?" she rasped, once she had finally caught her breath.

"It is, so just you do as you were told." He tied off her bandage. "That's your arm done. Any other injuries to report?"

"A few bruises and some minor burns," she said from behind the cloth. He snorted.

"You're quite lucky that's all. By rights, you should be covered in injuries." He frowned as he dug in his pack again. "Apply this to any burns," he said, handing her a familiar jar of salve. "Alert me if the burns persist or worsen. Understood?" She nodded, slipping it in her pocket.

"How long do I use this?" she asked, holding up the herb pouch.

"Until it dries three times a day. I will replenish it every day for a week. Avoid overexerting your lungs and use your voice sparingly until then."

She nodded, rubbing a hand over her chest. Her lungs ached with every breath that she took and her voice was a rasp at best. The steam from the pouch was pungent but had an odd soothing quality and she held it gratefully to her face.

"Thanks, Oin." He waved a hand and stood to usher her from the small room. She snagged her pack from the floor, struggling to sling it over her shoulder with her good arm while she held the pouch to her face with the injured.

"Just don't make this a habit."

"I'm afraid the regrettable habit has already formed," said Thorin, shouldering off the door frame and catching her pack just before she dropped it.

"Then keep her out of trouble," said Oin scowling. "Is anyone else injured?"

Sara grabbed for her pack but Thorin held it out of her reach before tossing it easily over a shoulder. She shook her head. Let him have it. She was just glad that Thorin had insisted that the packs be restocked earlier that day and thus had not been in the Master's mansion when it had gone down into the lake. She didn't much like the idea of losing all her possessions once again.

"Dori's leg needs your attention though he will insist it's nothing," said Thorin.

"Pig-headed old goat, fussing over everyone but himself," Oin grumbled under his breath. "Well come on, show me where he is."

Together the three of them made their way from the small room out into the larger main area where the injured and displaced guards and townspeople were gathered. As they crossed the uneven and unnervingly creaky floor Sara could feel many eyes on them. She hastened her step drawing closer to Thorin. He looks over at her.

"Are you well?" he asked. "In any pain?" She shrugged.

"I've been better. My arm is pretty sore and my lungs..." She broke off into a fit of coughs. "It's hard to talk." He nodded.

"Dori is there," said Thorin, tapping Oin on the shoulder and pointing through a doorway to their left.

"Right," said Oin, hoisting his bag further onto his shoulder. Sara made to follow but Thorin caught her elbow.

"We have business elsewhere." She frowned behind the herb pouch confused. "We need to speak with Ranson and Eric about what happened and I would like to know more about the guard Talson. We need to know where we stand in this town and if we can urge an evacuation."

"That makes sense. Where are they?" He led her around a hole in the floor and down a hall to a closed door in front of which stood Fili and Legolas.

"Uncle, Sara," said Fili looking up and then frowning as he eyed Sara. "You look rough." She shrugged, not wanting to speak and lapse into another coughing fit.

"What news?" asked Thorin.

"We slew another six orcs when we made our search of the Town," said Legolas grimly. "That makes 38 in total."

"Did any escape?"

"Who's to say in this fog? We found two more rafts made from stolen barrels. One near the front gate and the other to the South. We did not however find one near the burnt mansion, nor did we find any sign of Alfred or the Master."

"The mansion probably collapsed on the last raft taking Alfrid along with it," said Fili.

"What of the fires?" asked Thorin.

"The one near the main gate was stopped before it could do any real damage but Dwalin and the others haven't returned from the fire to the north yet."

"Have you reported this to Ranson and the others?" Fili nodded.

"They sent out a group of men to help put out the fires and Talson sent the uninjured guards to patrol the town in shifts. Apparently, some of the guards fled the town." Thorin frowned.

"Where is Kili?"

"He and Balin are inside," said Fili, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder.

"Then let's waste no more time. We may not have as much of it as we thought."

Fili opened the door behind him. The room looked like it had once served as a storage room. Dilapidated shelves had been pushed back against the wall and old empty crates dragged forward to service chairs. The room was dimly lit with candles that flickered as Sara passed them and made her way to the empty crate beside Kili and Balan. Thorin and Fili sat on her other side. Opposite them sat Ranson with his children and Eric. Off to the side, Bianca was finishing the bandage on Talson's shoulder.

"Don't use this arm if you can help it," she said tieing a rudimentary sling over his shoulder.

"For how long?" asked Talson.

"Until it's healed over. Perhaps two weeks, but I wouldn't expect to properly use the arm again for two to six months." Talson glanced at Sara.

"When did you say this war of yours begins?"

"A little over a month," said Thorin. Eric snorted.

"Don't use this arm," reiterated Bianca."If you do, you risk crippling yourself." She turned to Ranson, all business. "You're next. Shirt off," she ordered.

"I'm fine," he said, holding his left arm close to his chest. "There are things we must discuss."

"Then discuss them while I stitch up your side. It needs tending to, or do I have to appeal to your children to secure your cooperation."

"She's right Da," said Sigrid, from where she and Tilda were washing clothes in a basin of hot water. "You need to be tended to."

"You may as well give in now," said Eric from beside the closed door. "You know she will win in the end." Ranson sighed.

"Very well." He loosened the ties to his shirt, favoring his left side as he gingerly pulled the garment over his head and handed it to Tilda. Something fell out onto the floor and bounced through the dust towards Sara's boot, but Ranson did not notice as Bianca began to clean the cut over his ribcage. Sara bent to pick it up. It was a heavyset silver ring on a leather cord. There was an ornate emblem etched into the silver that she did not recognize.

"Take care," hissed Ranson, jerking out of Bianca's reach.

"I'll tend to you. You continue your conversation," said the woman slapping away his defensive hands.

"Well I for one have questions," said Talson, looking at Sara expectantly. "You asked me to trust you and I have. But now there is time, explain how you know the future. You said the Valar sent you, but from where?"

"First I would hear your tale," said Thorin. "How is it that one of the Maters guards failed to carry out his order and arrest us."

"Agreed," said Eric, watching the guard. "Why should we trust you? Many of the other guards fled the town when the orcs attacked. Why did you and the others remain?"

"I supposed that might come up," said Talson, rubbing the back of his neck. "Very well." He repeated the story he had told Sara only hours ago.

"I can only assume that once they suspected the Master's demise the mercenaries abandoned the town."

"Good riddance," said Eric.

"I understand your reticence but know that I and the remaining guards are committed to the safety of this town."

"Even if it should come to war?" asked Thorin. Talson nodded.

"But now tell me more about yourselves, this quest, and especially Ms. Sara."

"Sara is from another world," said Kili. "In her world, our story is written down in a book. That is how she knows the future. Only she doesn't really know it all. Not everything that's written down happens exactly as it says. It's all rather complicated."

"You're forgetting the further complication of her vision in the mirror of Lady Galadriel," said Fili.

"Lady Galadriel allowed you to look in her mirror?" asked Legolas, his attention snapping to Sara. She nodded.

"Hold on," said Talson, holding up his good hand. "You mean to say you are from another world entirely?"

"Yes," she said muffled by the herb pouch.

"And we are just meant to believe this is?" asked Eric skeptically. Sara shook her head.

"It's never enough just to just believe is it?" she grumbled.

She looped a foot through the strap of her pack pulling it closer. Passing the ring to Thorin she fumbled with the fastenings before retrieving the puzzle box. She pulled the pin from its place and slid the box apart, pleased to see that the inside was still bone-dry despite her dip in the lake. She pulled out the tooth from Beorn, Fili's bead, the hairpiece from Thorin, and his folded letter before finally retrieving her phone. Handing the rest to Kili she pressed the power button and then held the phone out to Talson. He took it and then promptly dropped it when it chimed and the screen lit up.

"Careful," said Sara, giving into another fit of coughing. Fili snagged the phone.

"What is that?" asked Bianca, her work on Ranson's side forgotten mid-stitch.

Fili raised the phone and snapped a picture, the flash illuminating the room briefly and startling the townspeople. He held out the phone for Talson's inspection. Eric came to peer over the guard's shoulder and together they studied the image. After a long moment, Talson looked up at Sara.

"Explain... In detail," he said. She opened her mouth, but as she took in a breath she coughed again.

"Let me," said Fili. She nodded gratefully. Kili had restored everything save Fili's bead to her puzzle box. He tugged on the hair by her ear and held up the bead. Relenting she turned so he could better reach her hair as Fili began to tell their story from the beginning. Fili explained how the quest for Erebor began and that night in Bag End.

"You say you came through a door?" asked Talson. "How?"

"No idea," she said from behind the moist pouch, her voice scratchy. "I had known how at the time I would not be here today but back on earth. Gandalf just said that the Valar sent me and it was here I was meant to be."

Fili continued to tell of their journey to Rivendell, their encounter with orcs and goblins in the mountains, and of meeting Beorn. He told of finding out that Sara knew the future and had a copy of The Hobbit, their struggles through Mirkwood, and finally their recent encounter with the elves.

"But I still don't understand," said Ranson, looking at Thorin and wincing as Bianca pulled a stitch tight. "Why would you accept her into your company? I have always understood dwarves to be a very private and reserved race."

"We are," acknowledged Thorin. "And at first I was against the very thought of Sara joining the company. Even the mark of Mahal on her hand would not sway me. The only reason I allowed her to ..."

"The mark of who?" asked Talson, confused. Sara realized that throughout Fili's retelling of their story he had been very careful to skirt around the fact that she carried the mark of the Valar on her hand. She peeled the glove from her hand.

"The mark Mahal," she said, flicking the braid Kili had just finished over her shoulder and holding her hand up for all to see. There was no flurry of movement, no gasps of surprise, or nods of understanding. Instead, they were glances of confusion shared between Eric, Talson, and Bianca. Ranson fell oddly quiet, studying Sara with his grey-green eyes.

"And just what does the smudge on her hand matter?" asked Eric.

"It's not a smudge," said Kili defensively. "It's a birthmark."

Sara pulled her hand down into her lap. She found it strange that the people of Laketown had never seen the mark. Then again the few people who had seen the mark since her arrival in Middle-Earth were generally those with protracted lifespans and in positions of knowledge and power. Why should these people know this mark when they were struggling to simply put food on the table.

"Because of the time and place of her arrival and because of this birthmark on her hand Gandalf said we were to bring her. He insisted that she was sent specifically to aid our quest," said Fili. "He threatened to quit the quest if we did not bring her."

"What's so special about this mark?" asked Bianca as she wrapped the bandaging around Ranson's chest.

"It's the mark of Aule," said Ranson. His voice was quiet but he easily caught their attention.

"Who?" she asked absently, her fingers quickly tying off the bandage.

"Aule and Yavanna." His expression was masked by the shadows cast over his face by his hair which hung loose and free from his usual half ponytail. Perhaps not everyone in Lake-town was clueless then. He even knew the names of the Valar whose mark she carried.

"Who are they?" asked Bain, looking up from the sword he was sharpening.

"Two of the Valar, the ancient gods of our world. Aule, the master crafter, creator of the vessels for both sun and moon, and father of the dwarves. His mark is the hammer. His wife is Yavanna, the queen of earth, giver of fruits, and singer of the two trees. Her mark is the vine barring both a single fruit and flower."

"You seem very familiar with these symbols," said Balin. "Have you seen them before?"

"Only once before."

"When?" asked Sara, watching the bargeman. Ranson's gaze was fastened on her, but though his face was slack and tiered his eyes held something she could not quite pinpoint. Sorrow? Regret? Hope? "Where have you seen it?"

"Once about 24 years ago."

"And how did you know their meanings?" asked Balin.

"The wizards taught me and my wife."

"What wizards?" asked Fili suspiciously.

"Blue wizards away to the southeast near the Sea of Rhun."

"And what business did you have with them?" asked Balin.

"I..." began Ranson, but Thorin got to his feet, cutting him off.

"Before you explain that, explain this." He dangled the ring before Ranson's nose. "This fell from your shirt. Tell me, how are you in possession of the ring of the Lord of Dale?"

Ranson studied Thorin for a long moment before holding out his hand for the ring. Thorin let the cord slip from his fingers and into Ranson's before returning to sit beside Sara.

"It has been passed down in my family for over 150 years," said Ranson.

"Who are you really?" pressed Thorin. "Why are you in hiding?"

"How did you know?" asked Ranson, rubbing a thumb over the ring.

"Before Smaug attacked Erebor and Dale were close neighbors. I met Lord Girion long ago and that ring was on his finger. That crest was the same as on the banners of his household. You know our story. Now tell us yours. Who are you?"

"I knew the time was close the day you spoke my name though you did not know it belonged to me. I am the man you have been searching for. I am the heir of Lord Girion. I am Bard."

"Da? What are you talking about?" asked Sigrid, her washing forgotten as she dried her hands on her skirt.

"If you are the