Chapter 1: Memories

"What do you mean there's more dragons?"

Quinn immediately clamped her mouth shut as her outburst echoed down into the small valley below. The lands to the south of Angmar weren't exactly crawling with monsters, but it still wasn't a great idea to be announcing her location.

Next to her, Dírhael the ranger gave her a dry look. "We've encountered all sorts of foul creatures in this land, and it is the drake that surprises you?"

"Well, I thought there was only one," she replied, careful to keep her voice closer to a whisper. "I mean, those bull things I could handle, the giant wolves I could handle, but dragons just seem a little too OP for them to be just anywhere. I mean, I was there when Smaug attacked Lake-town, and that motherfucker was huge."

"Are you two actually watching the pass, or just shouting for all the orcs in Nan Amlug to hear?"

They turned as their other two companions emerged from the brush. Lóni, the dwarf who had spoken, lifted his axe to rest upon his shoulder. Next to him, Ash aimed an arrow at a movement in the brush, but it was only a wild animal.

Dírhael made a small, displeased noise in the back of his throat. "The pass is clear." He turned to go, gesturing for the rest of them to follow.

Quinn figured the ranger wasn't exactly thrilled about their mismatched crew—a wandering dwarf, a woodsman from a nearby town that was pretty okay with a bow, and...herself.

She'd gotten much better with her sword, and was pretty handy with a few other weapons thanks to her friends back in Erebor. Sixty years of wandering and fighting and getting into weird bullshit had done wonders for her survival skills, even if she was technically dead.

Of course, the others didn't know about that last part (it was just a real bitch to explain, so she tried to keep it under wraps). But she had a magic sword and kind of looked the part, and Dírhael hadn't really been in a position to turn down her help. The rangers in the area were pretty thinly scattered, and it turned out one man was not enough to deal with what he had called a "drake infestation."

Lóni fell into stride next to her as they moved through the brush. He kept stepping on leaves and other noisy things, apparently not caring about moving stealthily, and Dírhael kept shooting irritated looks back at him.

"So, you say you have experience fighting dragons?" he asked.

She thought back to her fight with Smaug, which had mostly consisted of running, falling, and almost getting incinerated. "Yeah."

"Any advice for the rest of us?"

"Uh…" She turned as Ash raised his bow again. "Dude, you gotta cool it with that. There's nothing out there. I think Dírhael would have noticed it already."

The ranger cast another glare at Lóni's stomping boots, but said nothing.

"Anyway," she turned back to the dwarf. "I guess the main thing would be to find a weak spot. Dragonhide is too tough for normal weapons. And don't stand on the head."

"What, the dragon's head?"

Up ahead, Dírhael held up a hand and whistled for them to be quiet, the sound blending in perfectly with the occasional chirping of the forest birds.

They'd reached the top of a slope that led down into a small basin. The light of the moon reflected off the large, pale stones scattered around the flat land at the bottom. At the center of the area was a reddish, scaly shape that could only be the dragon they'd been hunting. It was curled up and apparently sleeping, thin ribbons of smoke rising from its nostrils with every breath.

"Okay, it's actually not that big," she whispered. "I thought this one was gonna be like Smaug. This shouldn't be that bad."

Belekur appeared beside her, almost making her jump. Though no one else except the elves could see them, they sometimes faded from Quinn's view, and it always threw her off when they reappeared.

"The drake surrounds herself with her brood."

Quinn frowned, then looked closer at the area. She did a double take as she realized the rocks looked pretty scaly—and weren't rocks at all.

"Shit. There's more of them."

Dírhael turned to Ash. "Focus on the drake, but keep your distance. The rest of us will handle its spawn."

They started down the slope, careful not to wake the sleeping monsters below. Even Lóni seemed to be taking care to step lightly. When they reached the bottom, Dírhael gestured for them to take their positions, then drew his knife and rushed forward to take out the first dragon baby.

Lóni went right, Quinn went left, and Ash lined up his shot on the main dragon.

As she neared her target, she drew her sword. She felt a little bad about killing the thing, especially since it was sleeping. She stopped next to its curled up body and hesitated. The thing was just a baby. It even had a little bit of dragon drool coming from the corner of its mouth.

On the other side of the basin, Lóni brought his axe down with a Khuzdul battle cry. Dírhael let out an exasperated curse a second later, and then the area was thrown into chaos as the dragons woke up.

The beast next to Quinn roused, revealing a fiery red eye with a slitted pupil. Its mouth opened, revealing a set of sharp teeth covered in dragon drool.

"Dammit." She raised her sword and stabbed it into the monster's neck, releasing a spurt of hot, dark blood.

It collapsed, and Quinn pulled her sword out so she could deal with the next one. Lóni and Dírhael had both slain their targets, but that still left the main dragon and two more of its spawn.

The former raised its head to the sky and let out a deafening roar, shooting out a curling spout of flame. Ash released an arrow, which bounced off the dragon's throat.

Quinn exchanged a glance with Dírhael. He nodded in understanding, then charged with Lóni to finish off the smaller dragons. The main one followed their movements, and opened its mouth to deliver another burst of flame.

She raised her sword and charged. The monster was only about ten feet tall, and its scales were rough enough for her to get decent footing as she climbed up its back and landed just behind its head, her legs on either side of its neck. The dragon growled, the fire in its throat dying out.

I honestly don't know what my plan was, here. She looked around for something vulnerable to hit, but the dragon spun around with incredible speed, and she was forced to hang on to its ridged head to avoid flying off. It turned a few more times, trying to dislodge her, but she managed to stay seated.

Quinn raised her sword and drove it into the dragon's neck, but the blade only bounced off the tough hide. She flinched as an arrow flew past her head. "Ash!"

"Sorry!"

"Quinn, get down!" Dírhael shouted.

"In a minute!" She fumbled for the knife in her boot with her free hand. "God dammit." She finally drew it and jabbed it into the dragon's eye.

The monster roared, flailing its head and tearing the dagger from her grip. It straightened up and spread its wings. This motion, along with the thrashing head, was enough to finally throw her off balance.

"Shit!" Quinn fell head over heels off the dragon's back, and the last thing she saw was the ground rushing up to meet her.


"So I was unconscious for the rest of the fight, but the others managed to kill the dragon. And you'll never guess who got the final blow." Quinn leaned back in her chair. "Fucking Ash. After he almost shot me."

Bilbo took a sip from his teacup. "What possessed you to get up on the dragon's back in the first place?"

"You know, Bilbo, sometimes when you're out in the field, it's all about instincts and finding the right thing to climb on. And hey, it's not like I have to worry about mortal injury anyway."

He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to his cup.

"Sorry." She'd come to realize her friends didn't care much for jokes about how dead she was. "Anyway, how are things going with you?"

"Oh, the same as they've always been." That was what he had said the last several times she had visited, but he seemed happy nonetheless.

It had still been really weird to see him age over the years, while she'd stayed the same. His hair was gray now, and wrinkles lined his face, but he still had the same sharp wit and kind smile as the hobbit she'd met all those years ago.

"Are you planning on slaying any more dragons anytime soon?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. I've really just been playing it by ear. I'll probably stay in the north, though." Her deal with Saruman was still in the back of her mind, but she decided not to dwell on it.

"Well, if you're going to be in the area for a while longer, I was wondering if—"

The front door opened, and they both looked over to see who it was. Thorin walked into the sitting room, a basket of groceries in one hand. He nodded in greeting to Quinn.

"Did you get the strawberries, dear?" Bilbo asked.

"Of course." Thorin gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze as he passed.

The passage of time showed on his face as well, though Quinn had no doubt he could probably still beat someone in a bar fight if the situation called for it. Not that there was likely to be such a situation in the Shire. Living with Bilbo had brought out a more relaxed demeanor in the dwarf—he smiled more easily, and seemed to find Quinn a little less annoying.

A moment later, Thorin joined them in the living room, taking a seat in the armchair next to Bilbo's. "Have I missed anything?"

"Eh, I was just telling Bilbo about the time I got knocked out while fighting a dragon. So, not much."

He frowned slightly. "There are still drakes in the north?"

"They're way up near Angmar. And we killed a bunch of them, so I wouldn't worry too much."

Bilbo reached over and took his hand, and Thorin relaxed slightly. Quinn guessed he was still thinking like a ruler, even though he hadn't held the position for several years.

As if he'd read her mind, Thorin asked, "How are things in Erebor?"

"Pretty good." She smiled. "Fíli's doing great, as is everyone else. I think Balin and the others are still on that Moria expedition, but I haven't heard about that in a while."

"Nor have I," he said, the crease between his brows deepening slightly.

"Anyway," Bilbo said. "I was meaning to ask you if you'd be around this fall. I'm going to be turning one hundred and eleven, and Frodo will be turning thirty-three. We'll be throwing quite the party to celebrate the occasion."

"Hey, you know I wouldn't miss that for anything." She grinned, partially to cover up the fact that she was freaking out about his age. One hundred and eleven was fucking old—though the people of this world did tend to age a lot slower. "Your birthdays are in September, right?"

Bilbo nodded. "I'll add your name to the guest list—though, technically, there isn't one right now. I haven't sent out invitations yet, but I had to ask you since I didn't know when you'd visit again."

"Oh, I'll definitely be there. Can I bring my son?"

The two of them smiled and waited for her to say, "Just kidding!"

A minute passed before Bilbo said, "Pardon?"

"My...son." Quinn raised her eyebrows. "Did I not tell you guys about him?"

"Perhaps that word means something different in your world."

"I don't think so."

Thorin tilted his head slightly. "I wasn't aware that you could…"

"Oh, no." She held her hands up. "He's not mine. I mean, biologically. It's actually a pretty funny story."


"What do you think? Should we drop in on Sauron's old stomping ground?"

The dark bulk of Mirkwood stood low on the horizon. Although Quinn couldn't see Dol Guldur from where she was standing, being near the forest always brought back memories of that fateful day.

Belekur said nothing, but she didn't mind. Even after decades of spending almost every moment together, they still weren't anything close to what Quinn would call a friendship. But she figured they were never going to reach that point.

She had more pressing matters, anyway. The stretch of trees nearby had been echoing with a eerie, high-pitched sound for a while, and she was cautiously following it to its source. In all her travels, she'd never heard a sound like that before, and her mind was running through all sorts of creatures she would find within the trees. The small forest wasn't connected to Mirkwood, so whatever was happening couldn't be blamed on the general creepiness of that place.

"I swear, I am done with ghosts for good." Quinn vaulted over a fallen tree and started up a steep slope. "If I ever see so much as a dude in a sheet, I am high-tailing it out of here."

As she passed under a rocky outcropping, the sound suddenly changed, and she realized it wasn't a ghost at all.

"You've got to be kidding me…"

Her pace quickened. If she could hear this baby crying from a hundred yards away, that meant any wolves or orcs or actual ghosts in the area could also hear it.

She found the source of the crying in a clearing at the top of the slope. It was lying in the middle of a patch of dirt, wrapped in a threadbare blanket and screaming its lungs out.

"Who the fuck just forgets their baby in the middle of the woods?" Quinn bent down and picked it up, then winced as the crying was brought closer to her ear. "Okay. Stop crying, baby." She tried rocking it, then changed her grip, but nothing seemed to work. She glanced at Belekur. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about infant care, would you?"

"It was left here to die," they said, their expression unreadable.

"What? No. Maybe in your world, but..." She shifted her grip again, and realized the baby was pretty cold. "I'm guessing they probably just forgot." She tried rubbing its arms and legs to warm it up. "I mean, either way, they're shitty parents."

Quinn walked to the edge of the clearing and looked out over the fields beyond. A stream was visible about half a mile away, and next to it, she could see the low, lumpy shapes of a few buildings.

"I'm about to kick some doors down."

The walk to the small village was short, and in that time the baby finally stopped crying. Whether it was from exhaustion or not being alone anymore, Quinn couldn't tell.

Of the dozen buildings, only one of them had a light in the window. She couldn't see anyone on watch as she approached, and couldn't help but think these people were really unprepared for an orc attack.

She approached the lit building and, shifting the baby into the crook of one arm, knocked on the door. The wood rattled, and a tiny crack of light showed next to the frame as the latch nearly came loose.

"I didn't mean actually kick any doors down," she muttered, then straightened as the door opened.

Upon seeing her, the old woman on the other side let out a strangled gasp and backed away. She stumbled slightly, almost knocking into the rickety table behind her.

"Woah, woah, calm down, lady." Quinn held out a hand. Sometimes she forgot that looking like a tall, scowling warrior didn't give a great first impression. Please don't let this old woman have a heart attack on my watch. "I just wanna know whose baby this is."

The woman glanced at the bundle in her arms, and her eyes filled with tears. "I told them they shouldn't have done it," she whispered. "That bad things would follow… But none of them would listen to me."

Quinn wondered if she counted as "bad things," then decided she didn't have time to figure that out. "Just tell me which house I'm supposed to return this to. That's all I want to know."

"Baldac and Raegwyn's house. T-Two buildings down, next to the well." She pointed in that direction with a bony, shaking finger. "That's where you'll find them."

"Thanks." Quinn turned to go, but since the old lady was still pretty shaken up, she added, "This is just a dream, by the way. Get back in your bed."

The woman nodded and shut the door, then shut it again when it just bounced back open. Quinn turned and followed her directions to the house by the well. She knocked more gently this time.

As she waited for someone to answer, she looked down at the baby's tiny, wrinkled face. She suppressed a laugh. It looked pretty funny, with its puffy eyes and slightly upturned nose.

A man, who she guessed was Baldac, opened the door and had a similar reaction to the old woman, nearly crying out and jumping away from the door. "W-What… Who are you?"

"The Ghost of Christmas Past, here to return your baby." Quinn bounced it slightly. "Next time, you might want to try keeping better track of it. Get one of those backpack things or something."

Baldac's face went white. "Please, we had no choice. I-If you're some sort of wraith—"

"Very close, actually." Quinn frowned. She thought the guy would have been happy to get his kid back. "Wait, what do you mean, you didn't have a choice? It's a baby. This thing's been screaming its head off for a while, so I don't see how you lost it."

"We have no food to spare. We'd thought it best to…" He backed up another step and shook his head. "The village has fallen on hard times. The lass would've done us no good."

Quinn looked down at the baby, then back at him, then back down at the baby. "So you're telling me," she tilted her head, "you left her in the woods on purpose. Because you couldn't feed her."

The man said nothing—he just stood there, shaking.

"Okay." She looked down at the sleeping baby in her arms, then back at Baldac. "I am officially confiscating your baby. Have a good night!"

When he continued to stare at her, she reached over to close the door, then began walking away.

"Don't say anything," Quinn said to Belekur. "I'll figure it out." She glanced down at the sleeping bundle in her arms. "We'll figure something out."


"And, uh...eight years later, here we are."

Thorin and Bilbo stared at her, both having gone through various stages of shock and outrage during her story. Bilbo finally sat back and took a sip of his tea. "You said that was going to be a funny story. That was not funny."

"What happened next?" Thorin asked. "You...raised this child by yourself?"

"Well, not exactly. I actually had to go back to the village the next day and get some milk for the kid. I sometimes forget how other people need to eat and stuff. But after that, I went straight to Erebor so I could get some parenting advice." She smiled. "Dori practically confiscated my baby once I explained what happened."

"Dwarves, at least, know the value of a child," he said with a scowl.

Bilbo patted his hand, then asked, "And where is your son now?" He looked around the room, as though expecting an eight-year-old kid to be hiding somewhere.

"Oh, I left him with the rangers up north. Figured I wouldn't be a good mom if I was dragging him along to fight dragons. But I can definitely bring him down here for the party."

He nodded. "Of course. There will be plenty other children at the party, and I would be happy to meet your...son." He looked like he was still trying to wrap his head around the idea.

"Awesome." She grinned. "That reminds me, by the way. I went to visit Beorn a while back, and you wouldn't believe it, but he also has a son. But he named his Grimbeorn, which is just…" She made a face. "I had to try really hard not to say anything about that one. That would be like if you named Frodo 'Sad Bilbo.'"

"Quinn, for the last time, Frodo is not my son."

"But he looks like an exact combo of you and Thorin!"

Bilbo just shook his head in exasperation, though Thorin looked rather pleased at the thought.

As if their conversation had summoned him, Frodo walked through the front door and poked his head into the sitting room. "Hello, Quinn."

She lifted a hand in greeting. "Hey, Froyo."

He turned to his two uncles. "I'm going down to the fishing hole with Sam later. Do you want me to get anything from the market before I come back?"

"We're all right, lad," Thorin said. "I went earlier today."

"Don't stay out too late," Bilbo said, and had barely finished his sentence before Frodo was out the door again.

She smiled absently. When Bilbo had told her that he'd adopted one of his nephews, the name had rung a bell in the back of her mind, though she couldn't remember any details. It had been so long since she'd last been in her world that certain things had slipped from her memory—what her apartment looked like, the sound of her mom's voice, if she'd ever finished playing Dark Souls III.

"Quinn?" Bilbo's voice broke her from her thoughts. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah." She cleared her throat and nodded. "I was just thinking, you know—it's good to be back among friends."

Fun fact! Urban Dictionary's definition for "froyo" includes "Frodo playing yoyo"

Anyways, welcome to the second installment of this series. I hope you'll all enjoy where I'm taking this story. The title of this fic is based on the song by Luca Turilli and it's a banger, I highly recommend :) If you'd like me to continue this fic, let me know in the comments!