Chapter Text
Josephine stood on the road below Bagshot Row, the party tree behind her and a new sentence ahead of her. Anger shook in her arms, hands clenched at her side as Gandalf and Bilbo played their parts, unaware of her presence.
What were the Valar doing? She had done enough! More than enough!
Breath shivering in her chest she rushed off into the trees. How dare they expect more from her now, and after so long! She had finally fully trusted she'd be able to stay in Gondor, finally dropped her guard. They'd been talking about starting their family soon, and traveling to the Northern Kingdom for a time with long detours planned along the way to see their friends.
Josephine wrestled with herself, pulling any ounce of composure she could from the unbridled anger searing through her chest. If she was there, then, at that exact moment, then it was obvious where she was expected to go. She needed to talk to Gandalf, and soon.
From the trees she watched and waited for Gandalf to leave, then she began to follow him. He continued back behind the hill and into the forest, further and further from the homes and hobbits. And finally, he paused, turned around, and waited curiously for her to reach him.
"By your following me, I can only assume you require my assistance." His eyes drew down her, pausing at the silver stars on her vambraces and the white trees stitched into the collar of her tunic.
The Company would leave tomorrow, and decide on it's members by the end of the night, she didn't have time for a lot of subtly. She also didn't have the patience to try. "Gandalf, I need you to listen very carefully."
"I'm terribly sorry, My Lady, but I do not believe we have met." He said suspiciously, leaning on his staff.
"We will in the year 3018." She said cautiously, waiting to see his reaction. Was she changing her future just by telling him that…or had he known all along…
"You wish me to believe you come from my future? I have seen many strange things, but none like this."
"Your future and my past." She clarified. "The only reason I can think of that the Valar chucked me back in time is to join Thorin's quest to retake Erebor so what do I have to do to convince you I'm going?"
He glanced over the surrounding trees and drew closer. "And why would you come to think such a quest would be taking place?"
"I'm Josephine, a Seer. I know what's going to happen on that quest and not just because I'm from the future." She was beginning to miss the ease that her story had been accepted in Rivendell. Which in hindsight, was falling into place in a way that sent her reeling. "I also know you have a key to the back door into the mountain."
"Do I indeed?"
"And you're a Maiar, if that helps my case any."
"A strange thing for a lady of men to know, but not impossible."
Grumbling and frustrated and kept going. "I know the paths you'll take, if you don't let me join officially I'll just follow you."
"Things that could have been found by one with the right ears." He said darkly."
"If I don't go, the three Durins will die." Saving the lives of people during the Fellowship had been the right call, if not for Boromir she probably wouldn't have found Aragorn and saved him in time, dooming the entire quest. She wracked her brain trying to remember anything said about Erebor from Gloin, anything that could have let on that Thorin and his nephews survived. Very quickly she was realizing he'd been remarkably tight lipped about it and she'd just thought it was because of the grief of it. But maybe…
Gandalf's hands tightened around his staff and he looked worried.
"So either help me convince Thorin to take me too, or I make a giant nuisance of myself."
Gandalf looks at her curiously for several long moments before finally asking the questions he'd been saving. "Then tell me this, Seer. Why do you come in the livery of a Gondor that has a king?"
The trees on her collar bore his crown and the leaves of a living White Tree. It meant nothing to some, but everything to others. Others such as Gandalf who knew what it meant. But maybe that too would help her case.
"Because one day you'll see that king crowned."
"As well, that is fine livery even for a Seer of some standing in the White City." He continued.
If it hadn't been Gandalf, if it had been any single other person in all of Middle-Earth, she would've been more worried. But she needed to gain his trust and he'd know she was lying.
"Let's just say…" She took a deep breath and took the plunge. "The Steward will crown the King, and you'll crown the Queen."
She knew he finally believed she was telling the truth when his expression softened. "Will I indeed? How fortunate I might have such a thing to look forward to." He stepped closer, until his robes brushed the tips of her boots and leaned in to mask every word from prying ears. "So, your majesty wishes to join Thorin's company to save the line of Durin? If handled with care, I believe it can be done." He stood silent, pondering for so long Josephine wondered if she should interrupt. But then, "Very well. Come to Bilbo's door once the evening has fallen and join the dwarves for dinner. Once Thorin arrives I will speak with him about your request."
>>><<<
Josephine stayed in the woods for the rest of the day, finding the edge of a creek and watching the water blankly while it flowed past. She felt empty and raw, like a healing wound that had been torn apart again and wider than ever.
For the first time in a long time, she cried alone with no embrace to sooth her. Deep, wrenching sobs saturated with fear and anger. What if she didn't go home when it was over? What if saying goodbye to Aragorn that day was the last time, the last kiss, the last time she got to feel safe in his arms?
The unfairness of it all made her vibrate with anger, staring down at the water demanding an answer for the crime. "I'll do this." She growled at it, still unsure if she was being heard. "I'll try to save them and fix whatever problems there are but only if you send me back to him. The fucking moment my task is done you send me back to him or I'm not doing shit for you anymore!"
The creek bubbled lightly and a light breeze brushed through the air, tugging a blossom off of the tree above her. It was white and floated lightly into the blades of grass in front of her.
A coincidence, maybe. But she couldn't afford to think of it that way. The only way she'd make it through the quest now was if she believed she'd go back to him. So she'd believe it.
Somberly she took off her vambraces, cloak, and weapons. Aragorn's knife still sat along her belt and her throat clenched as her hand brushed the hilt. She pulled her tunic up over her head and took Boromir's knife from her boot. It was small, small enough to do what she knew she needed. She slipped the tip of it into the silver thread of the embroidered crowns on her collar. As far as anyone else would know, Gondor had no king, and it had no queen.
>>><<<
Aragorn wasn't worried when the party returned early, he was only excited to see her. But they reached the citadel sooner than expected and he was met in the hall, not by his Josephine, but by Halbarad. He was alone and his eyes were red as he hurried up to Aragorn where he was standing, frozen in place.
Aragorn's breath stopped, fear clouding his eyes. "Where is Josephine?" When the answer didn't come fast enough Aragorn grabbed him by the arms. "Where is Josephine!"
"She disappeared…" Halbarad said, still in disbelief. "Before my very eyes she was just…gone. We scoured the forests for miles, she was nowhere to be found…"
In his chest he could feel his heart shrink in on itself, crushing under the weight of Halbarad's words. He sank slowly to his knees, falling into Halbarad as his old friend kneeled with him on the cold marble of the throne room.
His sobs muffled in Halbarad's shoulder. They'd taken her back, away from him and to her world with no regard.
But then the doors of the hall opened again and Legolas ran inside. "Aragorn!"
His eyes shot up. Had they found her? Had there been a mistake? Was she okay? He stumbled to his feet and rushed to him with wide eyes. "Where is Josephine?"
Legolas' expression was strained and sympathetic, but not grieving. "I believe I know what has happened, though I know but a fraction of the tale."
"Of what do you speak?" He pressed.
"Her knowledge was not fully spent." Legolas explained hesitantly. "Not if one looks behind."