"Lady Galadriel."
Garrett nodded respectfully, though he truly had no notion why the Lady of Lothlórien had come to speak with him.
As Galadriel approached, he could sense a faint divine radiance emanating from her presence, as if it sought to cleanse and purify all it touched.
Unconsciously, he lifted his gaze and met her eyes.
If he recalled correctly, this lady's gift of foresight surpassed that of any Istari or elven lord, she could perceive farther and in greater detail than any other.
The moment Garrett looked up, instinctively, Galadriel attempted to glimpse something through his eyes. But when she truly tried to do so, she paused in mild surprise.
She could see... nothing?
"Your future is shrouded in uncertainty," she said after a moment of silence.
Garrett wasn't certain whether that was praise or warning, and so remained silent.
Still, while she couldn't peer deeply into his destiny, some near-term possibilities involving Garrett, especially those entangled with others' fates, could still be sensed indirectly.
"Many potential outcomes of this quest lead to sorrow," she said, "but with your presence, perhaps those dark paths might be averted. I wish you safe passage, Garrett of the wild lands. When this is all over, you would be welcome in Lothlórien."
At that moment, she found herself deeply intrigued by Garrett's blank, unreadable future. In all her long years, she had never encountered such an enigma.
Once he reached the Golden Wood, she thought, perhaps the Mirror of Galadriel could reveal more.
"Thank you for your blessing. I will," Garrett replied.
Galadriel nodded with a smile.
Garrett felt slightly dazed. When he snapped out of it, the luminous figure had already departed.
"Garrett!"
Suddenly, someone called from the bottom of the steps. Turning, he saw Gandalf hurrying over, clearly agitated.
"We must depart immediately! Thorin and the others have a considerable lead, and it won't be simple to overtake them. The elves reported they took the High Pass. Who can say if orcs have returned after all these months? If they encounter an ambush, that would be catastrophic."
Though Garrett had cleared the orcs from the High Pass previously, there was no certainty the area hadn't been reoccupied in his absence.
"The High Pass? That's... let's hope they're alright."
Garrett turned to retrieve his horse.
"Ah, wait. I suggest you leave your mount with the elves for now. The path we're taking isn't exactly smooth."
They would be passing through steep and narrow mountain trails, and possibly dark, cramped caves.
Those weren't places suited for riding.
"Alright, let it stay here for now."
"Come! We must make haste!"
---
As Garrett and Gandalf set forth along the route the dwarves had taken, on Thorin's side, the company had barely escaped the stone giants' battlefield, and by now they were thoroughly exhausted. To make matters worse, the storm above hadn't let up, and the expedition desperately needed shelter.
"Ho! I found a cave! Come quickly!"
At that moment, Fíli and Kíli, who had gone ahead to scout, called back to the group and led them to a cavern that appeared relatively even and sheltered.
"We'll rest here for the night. No fires. We depart at first light," Thorin commanded.
"No, Thorin," Balin reminded him. "According to the original plan, we were supposed to wait for Gandalf and Garrett before moving on."
"Plans change."
Night deepened.
The dwarves, worn to exhaustion, quickly succumbed to sleep, and even Bofur, who was keeping watch, couldn't prevent his head from nodding.
Bilbo suddenly opened his eyes. He looked around at the slumbering dwarves, gathered his belongings, and retrieved a walking stick he had collected along the way.
"Where are you going?" Bofur, seeing Bilbo preparing to leave, instantly shook off his drowsiness.
"Back to Rivendell."
"No, no, you can't leave. You're part of our company now, one of us."
As the two conversed, they failed to notice that all the snoring around them had ceased.
"No, I'm not. Just as Thorin said, I shouldn't have come. He was right. I shouldn't have rushed from my home on a whim."
"Bilbo, I understand," Bofur said gently, attempting to console him. "You're simply homesick..."
"You don't understand. None of you do. You're dwarves. You spend your lives wandering. You never settle anywhere, you possess no true home..."
Bofur fell silent, absorbing Bilbo's words. His eyes filled with pain and melancholy.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way..."
Bilbo quickly apologized. He'd nearly forgotten, the entire reason these dwarves endured such hardship on this journey was to reclaim their homeland.
"No, you were right."
Though Bilbo had touched a painful wound, Bofur harbored no resentment. From the beginning, the dwarves had shown remarkable patience for this "burglar," save for Thorin's occasionally sharp words, they had protected him throughout. Had an elf spoken thus, he would have reached for his weapon without hesitation. But this was Bilbo, a hobbit with a warm, comfortable home of his own.
"May fortune smile upon your path. I mean it, Bilbo."
Bofur placed a reassuring hand on Bilbo's shoulder, indicating he shouldn't feel guilt.
"Wait, what's that?"
Just then, he noticed the short sword at Bilbo's belt beginning to emit a pale blue radiance.
There was no denying it: dwarves possessed an uncanny knack for picking the worst possible places to rest. Every time, they seemed to find the most dangerous spot.
This seemingly safe cave was known as the "Front Porch," and as the name implied, it served as the entrance to Goblin-town. The orcs dwelling there were a smaller, more cunning variant of the typical breed, swifter and more devious. In truth, they were more commonly known by another name: goblins.
"Wake up! To arms!" Thorin, who had only been feigning sleep, sprang to his feet and shouted.
But it was far too late.
CLANG!
The floor of the Front Porch suddenly collapsed, revealing a hidden passage below. The entire company fell through, tumbling and sliding down the chute.
SPLASH!
The instant they hit the ground, they were overwhelmed by goblins, so many of them that they couldn't even see the end of the crowd. In moments, the entire company was surrounded.
Even though the dwarves fought back with all their might, they couldn't break free. Soon the whole group was captured and dragged toward the heart of the goblin stronghold.
Only Bilbo remained behind, crouched and clutching his head in terror.
He was too small, even smaller than the goblins, and his clothing happened to blend well with the cavern's dark environment. Combined with a hobbit's natural gift for remaining unnoticed, not a single goblin had spotted him.
But when the main horde had passed and Bilbo stood up again, a lone goblin detected him and shrieked, charging forward.
In the scuffle that followed, he stumbled and fell into a deep chasm, tumbling down and down, vanishing into the darkness.
---
"I never imagined there were such creatures in Middle-earth."
Elsewhere, at the mountain's base, Garrett looked up in wonder at the massive stone giants, taller than the peaks themselves, hurling boulders at one another as if playing a game.
[Stone Giant: 80,000 / 80,000]
"I think they're far more dangerous than any dragon," he murmured.
Behind him, Gandalf finally scrambled up and, breathing heavily, looked up as well. "In terms of raw power, that's accurate. But fear not. These stone giants lack intelligence, and they take no interest in Middle-earth's affairs. Not even Sauron, or Morgoth before him, could command them. They are utterly neutral beings, forces of nature itself. Let's not concern ourselves with them. We must continue onward."