Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Thorin frowned at the rain. 

An army of dark clouds kept on marching low across the sky. Relentless. Unyielding. 

It had been pouring down for some time now, refusing to submit to the Dwarven King’s will, unintimidated by his condemnatory gaze.

“What a deluge!” Dori exclaimed for the umpteenth time from somewhere behind him.

The whole company of Dwarves that followed the Dwarven King was completely drenched, soaking wet and muddy. Extremely so, in some unmentionable places. The same fate befell their ponies, of course. All in all, they resembled a miserable mischief of half-drowned rats. Soon, the evening would come. They were supposed to reach the other side of Brandywine by nightfall. But try as he might, Thorin couldn’t spot any green fields of Shire in their vicinity. Instead, the group stopped in the middle of, well, nowhere.

The King surveyed the area with narrowed eyes. A thicket of bushes behind them. A muddy meadow to the right, some rocky hills to the left and a dark wall of an ancient-looking forest in front of them. That forest… there was something strange about it, something that kept attracting his gaze. The King shrugged. It was just another forest, nothing more. 

He hated the rain, despised the bloody bushes and their prickly thorns, and most prominently, he resented…

“Are we there yet, Uncle?” Kili asked innocently. “We aren’t lost, are we?”

Thorin grunted in response. He didn’t resent his youngest sister-son, of course. He simply disliked the idea of replying to his uncountable pointless questions. Like this one.

“We are not lost,” he huffed. “I simply chose a scenic route to see how everyone handles rough terrain.”

There was some indistinct muttering behind him and a loud “Ouch!” that definitely came from Kili’s mouth. 

Heavy steps approached Thorin and his best friend’s tall frame appeared at the corner of his vision.

“Where to now, Thorin?” Dwalin asked in a low voice, his face completely blank.

“We need to scout the area. Set up camp. It is getting dark,” Thorin ordered.

He would not admit that he was, well, no, certainly not lost, barely hesitant about choosing the best path. Being a king, he had the responsibility to take care of his people and this included his companions, especially now. That was it. Definitely not lost. He was merely considering the possible choices; one of them being the forest ahead of him. 

The forest. It just stood there with its unmoving, large tree trunks, gnarly branches, and dark green leaves, that seemed to hum their own song against the backdrop of the falling rain, inviting him to put his feet on its soft moss, humming about its thick canopy of leaves, promising to shield him from the rain. 

A song… he shook his head. He must be more tired than he thought.

“Bifur and Bofur,” he turned to the whole group of Dwarves, “you will scout the hills. If possible, find a place where we could stay the night. Nori and Gloin, check what lies beyond that meadow. Bombur, prepare some food when the camp is ready. Dwalin, I’m leaving everything under your command.”

“And what about you, Thorin?” Dwalin asked suspiciously.

“I’m going into the forest,” he declared, and added, seeing that his friend started opening his mouth in protest. “Alone.”

And just like that, he briskly walked towards the trees with his axe in his hand. Every step took him further away from his company. There were twelve of them. The only ones who responded to his call. He had to make sure that this place was safe for them to continue on their way, and it certainly didn’t have anything to do with that sweet song… Its enthralling melody sounded more and more distinctly the closer he came to the trees, the constant pitter-patter of the rain suddenly completely forgotten. 

***

She had found shelter under a large oak. The thick canopy offered natural protection from the heavy raindrops. Sighing she looked up into the grey sky. It had been four to five sunrises since she woke up in this forest. Nothing seemed familiar. 

Well, at least there was enough food and fresh water. She could even swim near the small waterfall. Not that she would. Somehow she naturally detested the water, whether it came from above or below.

‘May as well look around a bit more.’ she thought to herself.

She got up and stretched her back and legs. The smell of wet earth tingled her nose. As during all those nights before, the trees were humming their mysterious song into the night. It was beautiful and scary at the same time. She hadn’t realized, but she sang along. The words just kept rolling out of her mouth. She didn’t even know their meaning.

The nervous fluttering of a flock of birds announced the presence of another being. She stopped singing mid-sentence. Slowly turning her head, she peered through her red curls. 

There was a … thing. Tightening her grip around a large stone, she eyed the newcomer. Long black hair. Some braids and a beard. Heavy armor and a large axe in his hand. Not much bigger than herself, but wider. And a grim expression on his face.

The smell of fire and smoke, iron and something very sweet mixed itself into the natural scent of the forest. She eyed him a bit longer, as did he. There was no fear in her heart, even though he had a weapon, she was neither afraid or scared. Instead, she was curious. 

“You smell funny.” she said, tilting her head slightly.

***

He scowled. Him. Smelling funny. What an impertinent creature. Whatever she was. Too tiny for an elf, even with those pointy ears. Too slenderly built for a dwarf. And not a hobbit, surely. Not with those tiny, hairless and quite dirty feet of hers. 

Thorin watched her as she slowly turned towards him. Her simple white dress followed her movements, eddying around her like mist. There was an otherworldly grace to her, not entirely unpleasant to the eye. A fairy, perhaps. A pair of large, golden eyes surveyed him curiously. Her gaze was full of… something he was at a loss to identify. One thing was certain, she was unarmed and it looked like she didn’t bear him any ill will. Except for mocking him, it seemed.

“Is it your habit to offend travelers who visit your forest?” the King retorted, not forgetting to frown in an intimidating manner. It always worked like a charm - both on his subjects and his impish nephews alike.

***

Her forest? Was he out of his mind? Of course this was not her forest. Since when did nature belong to anyone?

“Not my forest. What a stupid thing to say,” she fired back, raising one brow.

She gave the axe in his hand another wary look before stepping a bit closer. The rain had come to an end a few moments ago. Brushing one of her wet red curls out of her eyes, she took another step towards him. She didn’t like the look on his face. Somehow, it made her nervous and she didn’t like that feeling. 

“What are you?” she asked, curiously poking his arm, “I have never seen anything like you before. Never smelt either,” she added. 

Well, to tell the truth, she hadn’t seen any other people aside from her reflection and this hairy thing in front of her. Besides, she could only remember the last four to five days. Everything else was swallowed by darkness. Forcefully trying to remember only made her head hurt, so she had stopped that. 

As soon as she touched him, Thorin jerked his arm back in reflex, feeling an invisible spark jumping between them. It left a funny, tingling sensation on his skin, even though he was clad in his scale armor.

“What was that?!” he exclaimed, but there was no reply. 

The Dwarven King looked at the curious creature’s face, noticing the freckles that peppered her button nose and cheeks. It was clear that she suddenly stopped paying him any attention. He huffed in indignation.  

Something else piqued her interest. She stopped poking the hairy thing and turned to the direction he had come from. There was a delicious smell hanging in the air. Someone was cooking. And this someone was definitely more talented than her. She could only shiver at the memory of her miserable attempts to cook some fish. 

“That,” she pointed out, “is a very pleasant smell!”

In a blink of an eye she was gone, vanished between the trees. Following the delicious smell.

***

Only a sweet, flowery smell lingered in the air where she stood just moments ago. 

“What… Wait!” Thorin grunted. 

That peculiar tingling sensation was almost gone now, leaving him slightly confused. Was this some kind of fairy magic? Did she cast a spell on him? Or was it this strange forest?

He wasn’t even sure where she disappeared to. Nor where he came from, for that matter. Was it this path by the boulders at the far edge of the waterfall? Or perhaps the narrow trail between those trees? 

There was one thing he knew for certain. If there was any magic involved in whatever she did to him, he had to find her before the spell’s result would start showing. Thorin had no time to lose. Subconsciously, he touched Mahal’s Hammer, the symbol he wore on his neck, and picked the path that seemed to lead deeper into the woods. 

When Thorin Oakenshield, the King of the Longbeards, finally loomed out from between the ancient trees, the darkness had already fallen all over the land. The rain had stopped some time ago. Even though his hunt for the mysterious fairy was unsuccessful (she used magic to conceal her presence, he was sure of it!), at least her spell - or whatever it was - didn’t seem to have any effect on him. 

His stomach rumbled as the evening wind brought a faint smell of fried sausages. His legs (and nose) carried him swiftly to the dwarven camp located among rocks that rose from the ground like Warg’s teeth protruding from the beast’s jaw. The firelight danced against their coarse surface, casting fantastical shadows.

The smell of food in the air was making his mouth water. There was also laughter and a cheerful tune from Bofur’s flute that filled Thorin’s heart with warmth. It was a very old melody he remembered from his childhood in Erebor. 

He stayed in the shadows until it ended, enjoying every note of it. Letting his feelings run freely, Thorin recalled the long gone times, his current worries forgotten for a few fleeting moments.

When he stepped into the light, the Dwarven King was greeted with a cheer from twelve throats and something like a gasp from the thirteenth. Thirteenth?

That was not right. He led a Company of twelve dwarves, not thirteen. 

Now, however, there were thirteen silhouettes gathered around the fire.

“So this is where you went, fairy,” he spoke triumphantly.

***

Following the smell of roasted meat, she found herself in the open. A campfire lit the dark. She could make out twelve silhouettes gathered around it. Creeping closer to it, she could even make out their faces. They all were, well, hairy. The largest, and by far roundest of them, was cooking something over the fire. She observed them, sitting down on one of the logs, right outside of the firelight.

“It smells really nice, you know. I bet you are a great cook,” she complimented him.

The red haired one puffed out his chest proudly. A thick braid ran across his chest, might even be his beard.

“Aye, finally someone speaking the truth, laddie,” he rumbled. 

Then he froze. Slowly, he turned around, the wooden spoon held up like a weapon. Another of those hairy things turned towards her, nudging his neighbor to do the same. In the matter of a few seconds she had the attention of twelve unknown creatures. 

“Good evening,” she smiled. 

They were stunned. Then her stomach rumbled. Momentarily, they blinked at her in confusion, before the first one offered her a bowl of stew. She took the bowl from the cook and a spoon was handed from the one with the funny hat.

“Thank you, that is very kind,” blushing lightly, she started eating. 

Two of the younger ones sat down on each side of her. The one with the dark hair, just like the first one she had encountered, and the other one, his mane nearly golden. They started to question her. 

“Where do you come from?” - “What is your name?” - “How old are you?” - “What are those tattoos for?” - “Why is your hair so red?” - “Who do you think has the better beard?” and so on.

She could only answer with “I don’t know.”

An older one came over, shooing them away. He had white hair and a white beard. Somehow he reminded her of a fatherly figure, even though she couldn’t even remember her own.

“Why don’t you stay with us for the time being, lassie? We are on our way to a small village. Maybe they will know you, or can at least help you,” he offered kindly.

She looked around, studying  the faces of the other members of their group. The better part of them nodded, but the biggest one of them still stared at her. He didn’t seem to like the idea of a stranger staying the night. The tattooed one was polishing one of his axes. Somehow seeing the weapon let a chill run down her spine.

“That would be very generous of you,” she glanced back at the warrior. “May I ask you something? What exactly are you?”

For a second time that evening the camp fell silent, before roaring laughter filled the night. 

‘Dwarrows, what funny creatures!’ she thought to herself.

They were a merry gathering. Laughing, singing, dancing. The dwarf with the funny head even played his flute and it sounded so beautiful! The song ended and a familiar smell tingled her nose, followed by a deep voice. She gasped.

“So this is where you went, fairy,” instinctively, she hid behind the nearest person. 

Glancing out behind the three-pointed hairstyle, she could spot him stepping into the light. The axe in his hand gleamed dangerously and another shiver ran down her spine. She tensed. Of course he belonged to this group! They were all hairy after all.

“Am no fairy!” she hissed, hiding again. 

***

Thorin stomped ahead, finding himself in front of wide-eyed Nori who quickly put his bowl away.

“Then what are you? Speak!” the King growled at the wild mess of red curls sticking out from behind Nori’s back.

“Thorin, she’s just been hungry and scared,” the thief started, only to be quickly cut off by his leader.

“Nori,” Thorin warned him in a low voice, making the dwarf in front of him avert his gaze. 

Unbelievable. She’d just met his company and they were already charmed by her. Surely, it had to be magic! The Dwarven King promised himself to get to the bottom of this. 

His attention once again focused on the flowery-smelling creature. “Show your face and tell me what magic you used on me. Speak at once!”

A wave of murmurs passed through the campsite and Thorin could clearly see Nori’s eyes opening even wider.

“Did you cast a spell on our King, lass?” the copper-haired dwarfed turned to her.

First, a pair of honey golden eyes appeared from behind Nori’s back. Then a round, freckled nose, and puckered mouth followed afterwards.

“No! I didn’t!” she replied, shaking her head vigorously and hiding behind the thief again. “What is this magic anyway?” the creature added in an irritated half-whisper. Another question of hers. He groaned, his patience wearing thinner.

“Nori, I wish to talk to her, face to face,” he stomped the shaft of his axe against the ground.

The thief reluctantly moved to the side, exposing the hunched silhouette of the ‘am no fairy’ creature. At that moment, she looked almost fragile, her dark copper face turning somehow paler than before. Thorin opened his mouth to speak, but then she suddenly straightened and faced him.

“Are you really a king?” the girl squinted her eyes, scrutinizing him as if he was the most curious thing she’d seen in her whole life.

“Indeed, I am,” he admitted, taken aback by this question. “And--”

“Where is your crown, then?” she blurted out insolently. Thorin closed his eyes, barely noticing that the whole world suddenly went quiet. None of his companions dared to make a sound. Even the wind died down and the crickets chose exactly this moment to finish their evening serenades.

His crown. He didn’t have one. Thorin didn’t feel worthy of his grandfather’s Raven Crown, not until he reclaimed the kingdom of his people. There was one crown he had as a prince, a long time ago. He remembered its golden sheen and obsidian adornments clearly. It’d been probably buried together with the rest of the dwarven treasure in the treasury of Erebor. Perhaps that vile slug, Smaug, was sleeping on it at the very moment.

“ Khuzd kalm zud id-dûm, ma dûm kalm ikh-khuzd ,” the words in Khuzdul slipped out of Thorin’s mouth unwantedly. Bitter on his tongue. The dwarf should honor the crown, not the crown honors the dwarf. His eyes fluttered open, resting on the forest creature’s face.

The crickets resumed their nightly repertoire, but he was oblivious to their music.

***

She looked into his blue eyes, returned his intense stare. Confusion and anger raged inside her, but the fear was the strongest. Those words of his didn’t sound kind, not in the slightest. It was not her fault that she couldn’t remember a single thing. And it was certainly not her fault that this hairy-dwarf-thing was grumpy and displeased all the time.

She averted her face as soon as the first tears started to run down her cheeks. She didn’t want him to see her so vulnerable. Sniveling, she turned away, rubbing away the damned tears that just wouldn’t stop falling. Another shiver ran down her spine. And the blurry vision of something familiar popped up in her head.

Something shiny, which made her heart beat faster for some reason, red and yellow flames, dancing shadows and cries in the same rough language he had used. Slightly shaking her head to get rid of the strange images, she clenched her hands tightly.

“I don’t even know what that means!” she managed to say between two sobs. 

“Why did you make her cry, uncle?” the voice of the blonde one asks.

He seemed upset. But what for? An agreeing grunt came from the direction across the fire. There, she knew, was only the big warrior. Strange, he didn’t act as if he would like her. Staring at her, seldomly laughing and still polishing his weapons.

Two pairs of warm hands guided her towards one of the logs and gently placed her between the two of them. She didn’t want to cry. She had occupied them long enough. Determined, she stands up, shaking off the worried hands and furiously wiping away her tears. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you in the first place. I was just curious about you. Maybe it is better if I leave now,” shyly, she smiled at the group of dwarrows, tears blurring her vision. “But you should have just said so if you wanted me gone,” she added, looking at the king. 

Stepping backwards, out of the light, she vanished into the darkness. It didn’t matter anyway. She could see the pathway perfectly clear. 

Again tears ran down her cheeks. They had been nice. Really nice. And the food had truly been delicious. Maybe she could follow them in the morning. Just till the next village. Then she would let them leave.

A sharp pain stabbed her in the chest. Only the thought of leaving them hurt her. ‘Foolish’ she scolded herself, ‘there will be others. You don’t even need them. It is just because they were the first you met.’

The forest - her forest - lay still and somewhat cold in front of her. Here, there was no merry laughter and warm light. No homely smell of food. Here, there was only her and the silence, accompanied by darkness. 

Climbing up into her tree, she banished all thoughts of those warm and kind creatures. She would manage without them, as she did before. Even though she couldn’t really remember the before. It had only been one evening, a brief meeting, but she already craved the warmth and joyfulness they had shown her.

Still, a pair of bright blue eyes didn’t want to leave her alone. She could nearly hear his rough voice.

Chapter Text

“Where are my nephews?!” Thorin yelled angrily. 

After that fairy creature (he was almost sure she was one, she just didn’t want to admit it) had left the camp, Thorin could only shrug at all the intense stares his companions gave him. Without a word, he sat down, resting against a large rock at the far edge of their camp and looking into the starry sky above, as if to find an answer to his questions. He needed to be alone. 

Deep in his thoughts, he faintly nodded when Bombur gave him a bowl of his delicious stew, the scowl never leaving his face. this was not his day. First, he got lost… no, no, he simply wanted to make a shortcut and misjudged the distances, an honest mistake to make. Then that strange, singing forest. And after that came the most peculiar fairy who insisted she wasn’t one at all. But she wouldn’t fool him. He clearly felt that spark of her magic! His arm still felt slightly tingly, but that was all there was. He hadn’t turned into a frog nor aged 50 years in a blink of an eye. Everyone knows that’s what fairies do to travelers who stray to their forests. Whatever she did, it looked like her spell hadn’t worked on him for some reason.

She was gone now, and he was confused. And Thorin didn’t like to be confused. He was a king, and kings needed to be decisive and confident. Right now, he wasn’t. His mind was brimming with too many questions. 

What did the fairy do to him? Why did she choose to leave the forest and come to their camp? And afterwards, why did this insolent creature leave so suddenly, with that haunted expression on her face, her large eyes shining so brightly? 

He shook his head. A very irrational behaviour. Very undwarfly. But she wasn’t a dwarf. To be honest, even when he met her in the forest, the fairy looked somehow out of place. Lost. Fragile. And very curious. What was he to think about all those questions she peppered him with? Very confusing. 

A part of him felt uneasy about her leaving the way she did, but he couldn’t fathom why. Perhaps they scared her off somehow. Did he scare her off? Mahal only knew. Thorin knew his strengths well. Understanding the behaviour of women certainly wasn’t his forte. Especially if said woman was a fairy. Perhaps she simply disliked the company of dwarves. Maybe it was for the better that she left. She would be better off in her forest… singing her songs… dancing with the leaves in the wind....

Immersed in thought, he hadn’t noticed when he’d fallen asleep. His head jerked up when he heard Dwalin shouting the names of his nephews. Joining his friend took him only a moment. The large warrior was circling the camp, shouting into the night.

“What is it?” Thorin asked.

“Fili and Kili are gone. No one knows when they left. I bet they are planning some new pranks at our expense. I swear to Mahal, I’ll give ‘em a spanking once they’re back!” Dwalin roared with anger.

“We’ve been everywhere, but there’s no trace of them!” Nori joined them, trying to catch his breath. 

“Where are my nephews?!” Thorin yelled angrily.

He clearly remembered their accusatory glances and the way they acted towards the fairy. Did she cast a spell on them too? A spell that worked? If she thought she could bewitch his sister-sons, the heirs to the throne of Erebor, and do with them whatever she liked, she was gravely mistaken. He cast a glance at the dark silhouette of the forest ahead.

“Dwalin, take Grasper and Keeper with you. We’re going for a walk.”

***

“Where did she go? I can’t see her tracks any more,” Kili scratched his head. They were standing in the middle of a forest path that branched in two directions.

“We should turn right,” Fili decided and started walking, not looking back at his brother. Uncle Thorin taught him the importance of taking swift decisions at a battlefield and he intended to follow that advice.

“Wait! What if she turned left? Look, there is a meadow ahead on the right side path! Forest beings love meadows and flowers and… green things. She might be there,” Kili opposed the idea.

“Look, Kili, the right side path is wider, it goes deeper into the forest! If she wanted to be alone, she’d choose the right one. It’s obvious. Follow me!” Fili ordered in his best imitation of his uncle’s commanding tone. The problem was, it didn’t work on his little brother.

Kili stomped and crossed his arms over his chest. “No! You follow me!”

“I’m older than you!” Fili opposed.

“But I’m smarter than you! And I know much more about forests than you do!”

“No, you’re not! And you don’t! I bet you wouldn’t even be able to distinguish between a male and a female elf if you saw them!” Fili spat.

“Neither would you!” Kili shouted and pushed his brother. Then Fili pushed him back, making Kili fall on the ground. And then, of course, Kili had to jump up to tackle his brother. And that’s how their skirmish started.

***

Gliding down the tree she landed just behind the quarreling pair. Their loud voices had woken her from a bad dream. So much fire and screaming. She shook off the unpleasant feeling of guilt.

“Who are you looking for?” she giggled. 

On the ground, a ball of hair and hands and feet started to untangle itself into two young dwarrows. The dark-haired one nudged the blond a bit more forcefully than necessary.

“See, Fili! I told you we should have gone left. You like the green stuff and the flowers, right?” he turned to her. 

“Don’t talk nonsense! She obviously came from the right path,” the blond exclaimed stoic.

The gleeful giggle died in her throat. Those two had to get back to their kind. They would have to leave early in the morning. Well, as of now, the sun was already on the rise. They had to go back. She didn’t want to trouble them any further nor delay their travels.

“You should go back,” she managed to say. 

Her voice was slightly shaking, hands trembling. She didn’t want to be alone again. The tears started falling again. She lowered her head, red curls falling like a curtain in front of her face, hiding her sadness and fear.

“You should head back. Now. Your friends will be worried that you’re gone. I will be fine, so you should be on your way. Go… shoo!” quickly she turned around, climbing up the old tree once again.

A quick cut would be the best for all of them. Surely she would be fine.

“Are you kidding?! Me and my halfwit of a brother,” Fili pointed at Kili who made an ugly face at him, “sneaked out of our camp, skipped our night watch duty, and came all the way to you just to be kicked out of the forest?”

“Yeah, if we return now, empty-handed, our uncle will be furious!” Killi added, kicking an innocent stone off the forest path.

“I am not kicking you out.” she replied frustrated from upon the branches, “I am asking you to leave for your sake! Your uncle? Is he that grumpy hairy creature I met first? Well, he certainly made clear that he wanted me gone in his strange language.” slightly cross she climbs a bit higher up.

The brothers sniggered in unison at her very accurate characterisation of their uncle whom they were sometimes secretly referring to as “The Grump Under The Mountain”.

“Yes, this ‘creature’, as you put it, is our uncle,” Fili admitted. “And he didn’t…”

“Hey! Get back down here!” Kili shouted, looking up and interrupting his brother. “I will get my neck injured if you don’t!”

Worried she stopped in her movements. She didn’t want him injured. The pure thought of this made her heart ache painfully. She took a short moment to wage her options. Her heart won over her mind and she lets herself fall down from the branches on the path. 

“I am sorry. It is just… You are the first ones I met. I was curious, had never seen anything like you before. It is nice. Not being alone,” looking down once again she continues, “I don’t have much, but do you want some berries? Tell me about your travels. I have hardly seen more than this forest. Well, not that I would remember…” her voice trailed off.

The brothers exchanged a glance followed by a smile. Perhaps they would succeed with luring the fairy girl out of the forest, after all. The thought of leaving this poor creature here all by herself didn’t seem right to Fili. Being young dwarves, they were taught that all women, not only the dwarven ones, should be protected and treated with respect. She would do much better with them, if she was to follow the company. Besides, Balin and Dori would be beside themselves with joy if he and Kili brought her safely back to camp. They both seemed to be fond of their “fairy” or whatever she was.

“We will gladly tell you all about our travels, my lady,” Fili started with a grin, “If you care to join us, humble ground dwellers,” he made an elaborate bow while Kili tried not to chuckle too much. “We may even tell you what our uncle said!”

“Although it’s a secret, you know!” Kili chimed in. “Only our kind knows Khuzdul, our secret language. So, do you want to learn a secret or two about dwarves, my lady?” he mimicked his brother’s bow, grinning widely.

She started to giggle happily. A few more hours wouldn’t hurt, would they? They were sweet and kind and somehow sparked the desire to protect inside her heart. She could always leave later, hide in the trees, so they could move on. But maybe, just maybe they might want her company after all. They came looking for her.

“Am no lady,” she snickered delighted, a warm feeling spreading in her body, “and some secrets are better left untouched, but I would really love to hear of your travels,” with these words, she took the way to the left.

A small meadow surrounded by tall trees opened up in front of them. Grass and soft moss covered the ground. A little waterfall in the back filled a pond with clear water. Signs of an extinguished fire and a few fish and small animal bones were scattered near the shore. 

“You see, this is where I was before your uncle so rudely intruded,” she pointed at a large oak. “That is where I woke up for the first time. It shelters just fine, so I decided to make it home.”

At that moment, Kili looked at his brother and it was enough. No words were necessary. They were on a quest to reclaim their home, but it seemed that she didn’t have one. They, at least, knew where their home was. Even though they’d never seen it before. 

Maybe, just maybe, Kili secretly thought, she would like to join them and then they could offer her a home as well? He sighed. Fili would probably laugh at him and call him silly, but right then, he didn’t care. This was no place for such a tiny creature to live at. Kili lifted his gaze and saw that she was smiling at them. She couldn’t be that bad, could she? He didn’t understand why his uncle was so upset with her.

“Kili, what are you waiting for?” Fili poked him and took a step towards her.

Sitting down in the still slightly wet grass she waved at them to come nearer. Flowers of all shapes and colours filled the meadow. Crickets performed their songs and the chirping of birds filled the tree crowns.

“So tell me, are you both princes, then? Since your uncle is a king? And would both of you be so kind and get me a bit of the water reed from across the lake?”

“Yes, we are!” Fili grinned.

“And yes, he is!” Kili added. “Even though Uncle doesn’t have a crown. He lost it, you see. Ouch!” he exclaimed, feeling his brother’s elbow in his ribs. 

Stupid Fili. Did his brother really think that he would be daft enough to tell this poor, innocent creature the whole miserable and very depressing history of the dwarves of Erebor?! 

“Alright then,” he huffed and glared at his dimwit older brother. “I will go and bring you the reed. I’m a better swimmer than Fili anyway.”

His brother chuckled. “In your dreams! But you know it would be faster if you walked there instead of showing off?”

Kili blushed and stopped taking off his tunic. He hated Fili so much right now. 

Turning his back to the abomination of a brother, he asked her with a smile, “What do you need the reed for anyway?”

“Here,” she held up a half finished crown. “A proper prince needs a crown, but so does a king. So if you lost yours I will have to make you a new one, no?” she picked another blue flower that reminded her painfully of the king's eyes.

She picked a few flowers absentmindedly while listening to the brothers chattering away. Her nimble fingers were  twining the flowers into a third crown, to stabilize it later with the reed.

Two big frogs sat on one of the larger stones in front of her. The animals were watching her working on the crowns. The sun slowly crawled across the sky, bathing the small meadow in a golden light.

“Are these your friends?” Fili asked curiously, observing her nimble fingers.

“Well, they have been a lovely company in the last four days. And let me tell you, their concerts are amazing to listen to in the evening,” smiling, she placed a few small flowers in front of the frogs which made them start to sing a bit. 

“I heard that elves liked frogs,” Kili returned, smiling triumphantly, with an armful of reed, the stems glistening with water. “Eating them, you know,” he made a face full of disgust.

“What is an elf? Are they as hairy as you?!” she looked up interested and nodded, thankful for the reed.

“Naah, they don’t have beards at all!” Kili laughed, suddenly very proud of his fresh stubble.

“And they are much more boring than we are,” Fili winked at her. “But they have pointy ears, like you. You aren’t an elf, are you? Our uncle doesn’t like them very much.”

“Is that why he wanted me gone?” she watched them wide-eyed, crushing a flower in her fist. “So he didn’t like my ears? Maybe if I were to hide them? Would he like me better?” mumbling to herself she brushed the hair over her ears. 

A bit louder she said “Am no elf. Don’t even know what that is.” 

“I’m happy you aren’t one. And Uncle will be happy to hear it, too,” Kili smiled. 

It was true, Thorin usually became much more grumpy than usual when someone even mentioned the elves. The young prince didn’t quite understand it, but he didn’t understand quite a few things when it came to his uncle. Luckily, he understood what the fairy girl was doing with all those plants. He remembered his mother weaving floral wreaths as well.

She started waving the reed into the crowns, hiding it behind additional flowers. With two finished crowns in her lap, she rests her hands. Reached out towards one frog and gently patted it on the head.

“You know, you two are really nice, but why would I ever eat a frog?”

“Well, I have no idea, but if you were an elf, I supposed you’d have to,” Kili mused. 

“Am no elf!” she stated, determined once more.

Her hand wandered to her hidden ears once again, making sure they weren’t poking out through her curls. She watched the brothers nagging each other, splashing water and shoving each other playfully. With a smile on her lips, she stood up and made her way towards them. One finished flower necklace in each hand. Gently she placed one around Filis and one around Kilis neck. Kilis necklace was a colorful mix of all kinds of flowers, dominated by the shades of blue and purple. Filis on the other hand, was a bit simpler with mostly orange, yellow and blue petals. She smiled happily at her craft, bowed with a giggle and made her way back to her sitting spot. This was very nice.

Chapter Text

It was more difficult to get through the forest than the last time. Thorin wasn’t sure why, even though the sun was rising and he could see everything much more clearly than before. The beautiful song was gone now. Only leaves rustled faintly in the morning wind.

Suddenly he heard her laugh, cascading through the air like a mountain waterfall. She was close. What was the source of her amusement? Was she laughing at what she’d done with his sister-sons? Had she turned them into frogs by now? Or some monsters?

“Follow me, Dwalin!” he whispered. 

His cousin quickly nodded in response. They had no time to lose. Thorin prayed to Mahal that they weren’t arriving too late. He didn’t like the thought of having to explain anything to Dis afterwards instead of bringing her boys back.

Fiercely roaring and wielding their weapons, they ran through the bushes and shortly after found themselves by the lake.

“Mahal, we are too late…” he groaned, hearing Dwalin curse. 

His dear sister-sons, the boys he helped raise, were gone. Instead, the Fairy sat by the water, giggling at… oh no… two fat and slimy toads. Blood boiled in his veins.

“Remove the spell at once, Fairy!” he quickly closed the distance between them, his axe ready in his hands. “Give me back my sister-sons!”

“Thorin…” Dwalin spoke behind him. There was laughter in the air, but it didn’t come out from the Fairy’s sealed mouth who looked at him wide-eyed. 

“Not now, Dwalin. Have you not heard what I said to you?!” he roared at the treacherous creature. 

“But Thorin…” Dwalin continued, but he hushed him with a movement of his hand. Thorin blinked. Something was not right. she should have been roaring back, casting their spells on him, fighting… anything. Instead, she sat there, shielding her head with her arms, her eyes full of tears. He froze.

“No elf… am no elf…” she nearly cried, covering her ears and protecting her face. 

The sudden scream had frightened her. The hateful gleam in his eyes made her shiver. And the axe in his hand made her remember the fire again. A sudden pain spread from her chest over her whole body. The golden vein-like tattoos heated up, making her eyes fill with tears once again. 

She heard screams where there were none, smelt fire and smoke, but nothing burned. And suddenly… nothing. All was gone and she stared once again in the blue eyes of the king with no crown.

The laughter Thorin heard intensified. And then stopped.

“Uncle, what are you doing to her?” 

Thorin slowly turned around, his axe falling on the ground with a thud. The boys were there, safe and sound, carrying bunches of flowers in their hands and colorful flower crowns on their heads.

“Fili… Kili… you are alive and well!” he approached them and gave them a bear hug.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Fili asked, furrowing his brow and turning his gaze at the fairy girl.

“Because your uncle thought you were dead by now!” Dwalin started laughing loudly. “He thought that wee girl ate you or turned you into those frogs!” he roared, clearly amused.

If looks could kill, Dwalin would have been already dead. Twice. Maybe he was his right hand man, but it didn’t give him the right to laugh at his king! Thorin grumbled and turned to that impish Fairy. She still sat by the water as if she was frozen, her glossy golden gaze resting on his face.

“I believe that an apology is in order, Fairy,” he bowed his head slightly and reached out his hand towards her. “Will you allow me to help you get up?” 

“Am no fairy. Certainly no elf.” she hesitated for a moment before taking his hand. 

Cautiously she edged a bit closer, just like she did the first time she had met him. Gently she placed the last flower crown on his head, jumping back as soon as it touched his hair. She didn’t fancy being hit by his axe, if he might change his mind. Once again she decided to hide behind someone from the scary and confusing dwarf. This time a broad back and golden hair gave her shelter. 

“No need to apologise. Should have sent your nephews back earlier. I am sorry. I didn’t want to delay your travels further, but it is nice, having company, if even only for a bit,” she dared to explain from behind the prince.

She peeked from behind the young dwarf’s back to see the reaction of the king. “Thorin” they called him. Right behind him, she could see the big warrior. He lowered his weapons, but didn’t put them away. As soon as his eyes met hers, she flinched back behind her shield. He was so much taller than her and looked fierce! Although his laughing face was not as scary. 

Thorin frowned, seeing her wide eyes contrasting with the giggling faces of his nephews. Slowly, he moved his hand to his head, feeling the softness of the flower petals under his fingers. A flower crown! Did she have any idea of what she’d done? He looked at her once more, seeing only half of her face behind Fili’s shoulder. No, she didn’t, he surmised. She wasn’t a dwarf, after all. Surely, there was no way for her to know that a flower crown was to be placed by a dwarven maiden on the head of the dwarf she wished to marry. 

His hand moved to grab the wreath and take it off, but one look at his merry nephews and their similarly crowned heads made him change his mind. Perhaps he could humor her instead. It was all he could do to mitigate the effects of his hasty judgement. His eyes fell on the axe he held in his hands. He felt a pang of embarrassment at the way he’d treated this vulnerable creature. Just because he let his temper overrule his sound judgment. 

“I… thank you,” he nodded to her. “What do I owe the honor of this gift?”

“You are a king, but you don’t have a crown, so I made you one,” she whispered from behind his nephew, glancing at him, and then she quickly averted her gaze. 

“A crown worthy of a king! This is a rare gift. I will wear it with pride, my lady” he bowed, trying not to hear his nephews’ muffled giggles, and took a long step towards her. The fairy (or whatever she was) jumped and disappeared completely behind Fili.

"I will leave you alone, I promise! A-and I won’t follow you to the city. I can find the way later on my own,” nervously she played with one of her fiery curls.

“Look what ye’ve done, Thorin! Ye’re frightening the lass again!” Dwalin exclaimed with an amused smile.

What did he do now? Did he indeed scare her somehow again? How? Thorin was puzzled. He put away his axe and tried again.

“The roads are dangerous, especially for such a tiny maiden like yourself. If you wish to travel to the closest town, you would be safer with us. I insist you accompany us,” he tried to speak in a soothing manner.

“Uncle is right, we can not leave you here all by yourself!” Fili added. “Come with us!”

“I, I am not sure,” she glanced at Thorin. 

The king was still wearing her flower crown. The fact somehow filled her with new faith, hope and pride. Slowly she stepped out from behind Fili. The brothers, their uncle and the big warrior all watched her in anticipation. They had lowered or even put away their weapons, which made her feel safer. It hadn’t been the screaming which frightened her, nor the dwarves themselves. The weapons somehow made her shiver. They made the memories which were sealed deep inside break out. 

“If… If I could tag along to the next village, I promise to help you to my utmost ability. I am no good at cooking, but I can hunt! A-and I can climb the trees to scout ahead! I can be useful, I swear!” she hoped she would be of some kind of help to them, that they… well, would grow to like her.

“You… you don’t remember your name, do you?” Kili blurted out of the blue at the not-fairy-not-elf creature after whispering something to his brother. 

The red-haired maiden only shook her head in response timidly, looking at the ground under her feet.

“Perfect!” Kili smiled widely. Thorin glared at him silently. Will he never learn?

“I mean,” Kili continued, “It’s not a nice thing not to remember, but I’ve just thought of a great name for you! That is, until you recall your true name,” his voice trailed off hesitantly.

Wide-eyed she stares at the younger prince. Now that she thought about it, she may have had a name at some point in her life. A name… Until now, she had been fine without one. She nodded, lips pressed together and hands clenched to fists.

“What would you say about ‘Enya’? It means ‘Little Fire’... Just like you: small and full of fire - like your hair, you see” he grinned proudly, but quickly added, “you can say no, if you don’t like it!” 

‘Enya’ she repeated the name over and over in her mind. ‘Enya, Enya, Enya! Little fire!’ This name was perfect.

“I am Enya!” she squeaked happily jumping around.

Skipping up to the dark haired price, she hugged him tightly and pecked him on the cheek. She repeated the same with Fili, before running off and back to the camp of the dwarrows. Light-footed she danced across the pathways of the forest, singing her name to the birds in the trees. The smell of eggs and bacon inviting her to speed up a bit more.

“I have a name!” she shouted, before actually reaching the small group. “Enya, my name is Enya” she exclaimed huffing.

“There’s a good lad,” Dwalin patted Kili on the shoulder.

“I told you she would have liked ‘Primrose’ better! The golden kind, just like her eyes,” protested Fili with a frown.

“No, she wouldn’t!” retorted his brother. “You don’t know anything about her!”

“As if you did!” snorted Fili.

“Boys,” just one word left Thorin’s mouth, but it was enough to make them stop bickering. Just as it always did when they were  tiny dwarflings. “Do not forget to escort our guest back to the camp,” he added, watching as they hastily joined the fa… Enya, he corrected himself. 

Little fire. Indeed, she was small, but there was something in her unusual eyes that made him think of old warriors who survived the hardest of battles, who endured great hardships and who had to leave their slain companions on the battlefield. These were the eyes that had seen grief and destruction, known pain and terror, certainly not eyes of a carefree forest fairy.

The dwarven king followed his companions out of the forest, his gaze never leaving the nimble silhouette of the mysterious maiden.

Chapter Text

Hobbiton. After a few additional days of travelling (no, Thorin was not lost and they were not backtracking, they simply chose a less demanding route since now they had a lady in their midst!), they finally arrived. It was late afternoon and the local farmers still offered their goods, so the company divided into groups to replenish their provisions and buy an additional pony or two to carry their supplies. They were to meet in the evening at the place Gandalf mentioned, Bag End. 

“The Shire” they had called it. Rolling hills, green grass and the smell of flowers and food. The so called hobbits were funny little creatures, no beard on their faces, but plenty of hair on their feet instead! Strange. Friendly, but always gossiping and talking behind her back. 

When they arrived, Enya hesitated. She had grown accustomed to the dwarrows. She rode with Fili most of the time, while Kili told her stories of their travels. Thorin was frowning a lot at her and she mostly kept her distance. He was nice, but scary. 

Bofur always managed to make her smile and Bombur’s food was as delicious as ever. Nori was always the first one to examine the ‘treasures’ she picked up along the way. Shiny rocks, glittering things and small trinkets. Dori fussed over her and made sure she would eat enough and sleep comfortably. Ori would draw and write in his book all secretly and never show her. They all had become something she would never forget. 

Enya knew there was no way the grumpy king would let her tag along. She desperately wanted to, the urge to protect them deep in her heart and mind wouldn’t let her sleep. What if something happened to them? They had promised to visit her often, as soon as they had fulfilled their quest. But what if…

“You alright my dear?” a soft voice chimed. 

Bell, a hobbit, had offered to watch over Enya for the time being, and the dwarrows accepted it. She lived in the neighborhood of the ‘Bag End’ where they were to meet another member for their adventure. 

Bell was nice, Enya decided. She hadn’t laughed at her dirty dress, nor pointed at her red curls. No mean comments about her unusual eyes or the fact that she didn’t remember anything.

“I am quite fine. The water’s just strange. ‘s so warm,” Enya answered through the closed door. 

The hobbit had decided to prepare a bath for her. It smelt strangely, like flowers, and the water was warm. There were also no fish in the pond, which seemed a waste for Enya, as they would live quite nicely there. 

“Are you finished with washing yourself?” Bell chimed again.

“Think so,” she answered, looking around. 

She had briefly dipped herself completely into the bath, before getting out and taking care of her wild curls. She had washed them with one of the funny smelling stones, which then made bubbles in her hair and washed it all away again. Wrapped in a towel, she stepped out of the round door. 

“Look at you! All clean and pretty now!” Bell laughed heartily. “Here you go. I couldn’t let you roam around in that old dress of yours. Try them on, I might have to adjust them slightly. Have you eaten enough, dear? I will have some snacks ready in no time, you’ll see!” 

Letting the towel fall, she started to put on the new clothes. The fabric was soft but durable. Bell had to help her into some of the pieces as they were strangely cut and tied in the back. Looking into a mirror, Enya had to admit that these clothes were somewhat nicer than her dress. The trousers for one made it easier to climb a tree!

“Now we only have to tame your curls!” The woman stated, armed with a brush and several ties. 

Thorin looked out through the round window in the mistress' Bell’s sitting room. The sun was shining over the green hills of Hobbiton, chasing away all the restless thoughts about the quest stirring in his mind.

“Master Thorin, I thought you’ve already left!” the cheerful hobbit lady exclaimed behind him. “Well, you have to stay for tea now.”

“I thank you kindly, mistress Bell, but I must be on my way.” he explained, turning towards her. “I simply need a few last words with miss Enya before I depart.”

The woman nodded and disappeared behind the door. Soon, a familiar figure slipped into the room. 

“Miss Enya,” he reclined his head slightly. “Your dress… You look different,” he cursed himself for his silly remark. 

Indeed, the dress was gone, but now she wore dark green trousers, a blouse and a matching waistcoat that fit her quite well. And she looked… she looked… clean. With all the dirt from her tawny, heart-shaped face gone and her curls pinned up, her features seemed softer and he could even notice a shy smile playing on her full lips. He had to admit that it was a surprisingly pleasant sight. To see her cleaned up nicely, that is, he explained to himself.

“I bathed,” was her only response.

“Good. Very good,” he spoke hastily, gathering his thoughts. “My lady, I believe this is the time for me to say my goodbyes. Here, in Hobbiton, you will be safe. You will not find a friendlier place than this. May Mahal and Kaminzabdûna* bless your path, wherever it may lead. And please accept this small offering, it may be of help to you.” 

In his outstretched hand he held a leather pouch generously filled with coins. It should be enough, he thought, to help the Fair…, miss Enya, he corrected himself, until she gets back on her feet.

While taking the pouch from Thorin, her fingers lightly brushed his palm. He was warm. Enya felt the warmth spreading through her body, followed by a light tingle. She opened the knot and peered inside.

“Ohh!” gasping she pulled out a small round object, “So shiny! It is beautiful! I will definitely treasure these, Thorin. Bell, look at all these small shiny rocks!” pressing the gold to her chest, she smiled wide at Thorin. 

But seeing the dwarven king leave her behind so easily made her smile drop. She liked his presence and had grown accustomed to his grumpiness. A small hand gently squeezed her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, dear. Your companions will be just fine. Come now. We will go down to the market and see what we can find for dinner,” Bell chimed, handing her a small basket. 

Enya tucked the pouch into the inner pocket of her waistcoat. The female hobbit was probably right. They would be just fine, returning in no time to visit her. 

The market was loud and stuffed. There was laughter in the air, chattering voices and the smell of flowers, freshly baked bread and pastries and something that tingles her nose.

There were many new things to discover. Fruit and different kinds of meat. Flowers and plants. Distracted by all the new things, she nearly overlooked the tall figure - taller than any hobbit or dwarf she had seen so far - clothed in grey and smoking a pipe. Enya's curious gaze crossed his and he choked for a moment.

“Good day, my dear!” the tall figure says from under his impressive grey hat as soon as he stopped choking on the pipe smoke, putting away his pipe. “What would you say about this?” he looked at her inquiringly from under his bushy eyebrows, holding out a red apple towards her. “Is this a seed or a tree?”

“It’s an apple, is it not?” she answered, slightly confused. “If you plant it it will become a tree.” looking up into the wrinkled face she tried to read his expression. 

“Ah, but only if you plant it! What if you make an apple pie out of it?” he chuckled as if he wanted to add something when Enya interrupted him.

“What are you? You smell funny. Like rain and parchment, cold smoke and something very old.” stepping a bit closer, she eyed the tall figure.

“A good question,” he looked at her in amusement. “Perhaps I’m all of those things, or perhaps none of them. What about you? Are you the seed, the apple or the tree?” his eyes were firmly set on her face. 

“I am Enya. ‘Little fire’ they called me. Probably because of my hair?” she took the apple from his hand. 

Turning around, she looked where Bell had gone, but the kind woman was still occupied haggling with an egg seller. Looking back at the grey tall man, Enya tilted her head. He was definitely strange.

“What a lovely name. And my name is Gandalf. It is nice to make your acquaintance, dear Enya. Tell me, is it only your hair that is full of fire?” his blue, piercing gaze seemed to reach all the way to her heart.

“Yes? I mean no. They are just red. Not on fire,” slowly anger built up inside her, flowing like liquid fire through her veins.

“I have no time for your strange games. I want to learn cooking from Bell, so I can help Bombur and be of help to them,” with a dim gleam in her eyes, she glared up at him.

“Yes, I can definitely see the fire in you!” he nodded, as if agreeing with his own thoughts. “But haven’t you just said ‘Bombur’? How did you come to know him?” his forehead creased.

“He is a friend and his stew is really delicious!” she smiled If he knew the dwarves he couldn’t be too bad. “They have brought me here. Thorin said a fragile girl like me has no place on his quest and in his travels. But I can be really helpful! I can climb the trees up to the canopy!” her attention shifted to the staff he was holding. A shiny stone sparkled between the gnarly pieces of wood.

The wizard stifled a cough and hummed to himself. “Thorin said that, you say… How interesting.” There was a glint in his eye when he added after a moment, “So you know of his quest and you are willing to embark on a long and perhaps even perilous journey?”

“Of course. I will follow him, he got lost in my forest, you know. And he takes the warmth with him I grew accustomed to. Fili and Kili, I like them as I like the rest of the company. I don’t like the idea of them leaving me behind,” Enya crossed her arms, determined to follow them even if this old man had another idea in mind.

Gandalf hummed again, his thick brows rising just a little bit. “Well then, it is Thorin’s quest after all, but I have a feeling that if you follow the road to Bree tomorrow after sunrise, you may find a certain company of dwarves travelling eastward,” his lip curled up to form a slight smile.

“He said not to follow. You tell me another way,” Enya frowned up at him. He was talking in riddles the whole time which was more than unpleasant. 

“The decision is yours to make. Perhaps we’ll see each other again quite soon, my dear,” Gandalf replied. “Have a good afternoon. Oh, and I hope that your apple turns out what you want it to be,” he winked at her, pointing at the fruit she held in her hand. Enya glanced at the large, mouth-watering apple, but when she returned her gaze back to him, the gray wizard was already gone.

***

Packed with a newly bought backpack, filled with at least a ton of food and baked goods, Enya left the Shire as soon as the sun started to rise. She had taken the grey man’s words to heart and took the road to Bree. 

After only a bit of walking, she could hear familiar voices in the distance. They hadn’t come too far and seemed to miss their newest member as well. Another new voice from behind her made her shriek in surprise. Hastily she climbed on the nearest tree. From there, she had a perfect view to observe how the small hobbit was placed on a pony and they moved on. 

The rain was… the worst. Every evening she curled herself together around her pack on some tree, craving the warmth, the fire and the laughter the dwarrows had provided before. 

She had fallen behind the company quite a bit over the last few days. She was unsure if she made the right decision, but as soon as she heard the screaming and fighting, no more doubt was found in her heart. She had done the right thing indeed.

***

Gandalf was on the way back to the camp, muttering to himself and cursing the stubbornness of dwarves. Especially Thorin’s. They were supposed to go to the valley of Imladris to seek the help of Lord Elrond, but the dwarven king clung too strongly to the past. If he would only listen… 

A foul stench appeared in the air, brought by a sudden gust of wind. There were voices, too. It took Gandalf just a few moments to approach their source, concealed by the bushes. Three trolls sat in front of the fire, preparing their meal. It seemed that the dwarves were on the menu tonight. Perfect, this is what they got for being so stubborn and not following his advice. He was about to rise and reveal his presence when he heard a rustle in the forest thicket behind him. A small creature with unruly red curls appeared in front of him, her cheeks reddened, her chest rising and falling quickly. Well, well, the Little Fire followed them after all.

“Thorin! He is in danger! They are in danger!” Enya breathed. “I must…” Her vision blurred once again.

Anger and fear flared up in her, sparked something sleeping deep inside. The golden veins started to pulse with a steady beat from her heart to the tip of her fingers and toes. Her head started to hurt, drums of pain beating in her temples. The only clear thought she could grasp in this very moment was to protect what was hers. The dwarrows. If she wouldn’t give in to the fire inside they might get hurt. They might die!

“Enya! Listen to my voice! Breathe! This is not the time, not here!” Gandalf placed his hands on her shoulders and started whispering ancient spells. Words left his mouth and seemed to float on the wind, surrounding Enya in swirls, making the tree leaves rustle frantically. 

Something cold seeped from her shoulders into her veins and calmed the raging fire. Her vision cleared. Finally Enya could breathe freely, still a bit shakingly but steadier than before.

As suddenly as it appeared, the wind in the trees died down, leaving both the tall, white-haired figure and the tiny redhead standing in front of each other, recognizing a similarity in each other’s eyes. A glint of hope.

“Come now, my dear, our companions need to be saved,” Gandalf said lightly, as if he was offering her a cup of tea.

Chapter Text

“The dawn will take you all!” 

Thorin would recognize this sonorous voice everywhere. Gandalf. The moody wizard was back. About time! He sighed in relief, trying to find his way out of the sack and free his hands, but a loud CRACK! filled the air. Everything went white as the first rays of morning sunlight filled the trolls’ campsite, turning them to stone on the spot.

Then he spotted her. The Fairy came out from behind the cracked boulder. Her nimble silhouette seemed to shine in the sun. Her hair looked as if it was set on fire, creating a halo around her head. He shook his head in disbelief. What an otherworldly vision. It had to be a dream. It couldn’t be her, could it? He left her safe and sound under the good care of mistress Bell. And now she was here. Approaching him. Speaking to him, but he couldn’t make out even a single word, his ears still filled with the resounding echo of a large rock being magically cracked in half. 

The Fairy, no, not her, her apparition, was almost there, in front of him. Two more steps and here she was, lowering her face towards his, whispering words he couldn’t understand. The scent of sweet flowers surrounded him, ensnaring his senses completely. Her eyes. That deep, rich golden color, mysterious shapes swirling in their depths. She looked at him. At him, of all creatures of Arda. A goddess allowing a mortal to gaze upon her divine countenance. 

His breath hitched. He couldn’t move. His body wouldn’t listen to him. She was breathtaking… she was everything. She was the reason the sun rose, she was the answer to all the questions, she was the ultimate being. The treasure of treasures.

She graced him with her touch. Her hand, her slender, pleasantly warm hand touched his shoulder. He felt the familiar tingling sensation through several layers of fabric, the same one he felt when their hands accidentally met back in Hobbiton. Her ethereal face was so close to his, he could clearly see the raspberry tint of her downturned lips and the crease between her eyebrows. She was worried. What did he do to make her worried? He wanted to make it right, he needed to do it, she deserved only what was best in the world. And he would give it to her. He would give her everything. He licked his lips and…

“Thorin, please, say something. Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?” Enya looked down at the dwarven king.

Thorin must be really mad at her. Why else would he only stare and not even say a single word? Gently she touched his shoulder, feeling a prickle dancing over her skin. Untying the knot was relatively easy, still, her hands lingered a bit longer than necessary on his back. 

“I know you told me to stay in the Shire, b-but you left me and I wasn’t sure if you would come back! Maybe you would forget all about me and never come visit. Or you might get hurt! I just wanted to be with you all… it felt nice and warm when traveling with you,” her vision blurred once again, this time rather from tears than anger. 

The dwarven king didn’t reply to her. He was just sitting there, motionless, his eyes never leaving her face.

Hastily wiping away the tears, Enya turned towards Kili, loosening his ties as well. There was no need for her to be sad. They were safe and even if they decided to send her back she would follow them again and again. 

“Don’t send me back, please. You are warm, feel like home,” pleading she looked at Thorin, before searching the faces of each member of the company. 

The dwarven king was still silent.

Kili and Fili exchanged another one of their knowing looks. Nori was busy cutting the ropes that held the dwarrows on the massive log over the fire. Bombur was being untied by Ori. They all avoided her gaze. Only Gandalf smiled at her, knowing and amused.

Thorin didn’t understand what was happening to him. As soon as she turned to Kili, that extraordinary, wonderful, enthralling sensation disappeared, leaving him strangely empty and gasping for air. 

Mahal save him, what was he thinking?! He got up quickly, shaking that cursed troll sack off his body. His head was pounding. That would explain everything, of course, he hit his head when he fell to the ground earlier. No wonder he felt slightly disoriented when the Fairy appeared. Enya. She still looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears, so fragile, so vulnerable. He should feel angry at her leaving the safety of Hobbiton and following them. This quest was a dwarven business and she had to be sent back. He stole a glance at her and cursed himself.

“I… yes, well…,” he cleared his throat and looked at his companions, “Fili, Kili, scout the area. Let us gather our belongings and leave this place. And as to you, miss Enya,” he turned to her, trying to rein in all the strange and confusing emotions that enveloped him like a shroud, “You will follow us to our camp.” 

With these words, he hastily turned his back to her, not wanting to see her reaction. And perhaps also, he had to admit to himself, not wanting anyone to see his face. Not now.

Defeated, she watched the dark haired king leave. He must be really angry and displeased to see her following them. At least his nephews seemed happy about her being here. Gandalf on the other hand, smirked first at Thorin and then at her. Still mysterious as ever. 

Quietly she made her way towards Nori and Bofur. Both of them were smoking their pipes, watching the others collecting their belongings. They at least wouldn’t ignore and glower at her like their leader. Maybe Bofur would even manage to make her smile. 

Thorin was helping his companions out of their smelly sacks when Fili and Kili appeared in front of him, full of excitement.

“Uncle! Uncle! I think we found something!” Kili exclaimed.

“What is it?” he grunted.

“A smelly troll hoard filled with treasure!” Fili added.

“Let’s see it,” he replied gruffly, watching Gandalf getting up and walking into a nearby cave, it’s entrance hidden among the bushes. Oh, yes. He noticed the smirk on the wizard’s face. He definitely would have to have a talk with him about the surprise appearance of their red haired fairy.

The sounds of chaotic rummaging, of metal on stone echoed through the cave. Enya decided to stay with Dwalin by the entrance and not venture too far in. Because of the smell, not because of a certain grumpy dwarf. 

Looking up at the broad warrior, a giggle escaped her throat. Two small twigs were stuck in his beard, looking like fangs of a wild boar. Slowly she reached up, tugging on the right one. 

“You look like a great boar-warrior,” with eyes wide open, she looked him in the eyes, still gently pulling at the twig.

“Aye? You look like a wee squirrel. Always in the trees, hoarding food and looking at me with those innocent eyes,” Dwalin grunted, bowing down a bit. “Come now, better wait outside in the fresh air.”

Gently he picked her up from the ground, making her squeak shortly. Secured on his left shoulder, his weapon in the right, he exited the cave. Enya’s still occupied trying to untangle the twigs from his beard. She didn’t recognise the stares and strange looks from the company. Twigs and leaves were picked out from his beard and hair. Dwalin didn’t say a word, he only stared down whoever was about to comment on her actions.

First thing Thorin decided to do after exiting the cave was trying out his new blade. Elvish or not, it was surprisingly light. Maybe Gandalf was right about its origin after all. A Gondolin blade, a work of an ancient blacksmith master. The dwarven king took the sword out of its scabbard and swung it a few times, the weapon cutting the air with a pleasant hum. Perfect balance, he smiled to himself, catching the sunlight on the blade he held. And then he heard someone giggle. What was the Fairy doing this time? What made her laugh so merrily?

He didn’t like what he saw at all. She was sitting on a fallen log, close, much too close to Dwalin. He growled. Dwalin. Of all the dwarves… The large warrior was leaning towards her, their heads close to each other. Too close. His best friend. His brother in arms. That traitor. Another growl escaped him. The giggling stopped, Dwalin murmured something and the Fairy moved even closer to him, her hands touching his face, his beard, by Mahal, he let her touch his beard! Their noses were almost touching now, as if they were… No, this cannot be. With the blade in his hand, Thorin closed the distance between them in a few long strides, stomping angrily. He would show them. Blood boiled in his veins, demanding revenge.

“Dwalin! Move away from her!” he roared, pointing the blade in his direction. Both culprits gazed up at him in surprise. He could clearly see the guilt in their eyes.

“What is it now, Thorin?” his former brother said. “Were we disturbing ye somehow?” Dwalin squinted his eyes, his lip twitched. Thorin was sure it was twitching in fear.

The dwarven king huffed in fury, ignoring him. He would soon take care of this traitor. He lowered his eyes at the Fairy’s face, her eyes wide open, “And you... you go and help Dori. At once,” he growled through clenched teeth, gesturing with the sword towards the troll campsite. 

Enya jumped away from Dwalin with a shriek. She still held a small twig between her fingers. Thorin towered behind Dwalin, pure anger in his eyes. But her gaze was captured by the gleaming blade in his hands. 

Wide eyed she stared at the point of his sword. Sharp pain pulsed from her chest through her whole body, stealing her breath. Her hands started to tremble uncontrollably and the twig snapped. Her legs turned to pudding and even though her mind screamed at her to run far far away, she was not able to do so. 

The more she tried to calm herself, trying to remember Gandalf words from before, the more her breath hitched. Enya clung on to Dwalins arm, her right hand locked onto him, only able to stare panicked at the blade reflecting the sun.

Flames raged around her. A little girl screamed for her parents, but the voice soon mixed in with all the other screams. Scattered rooftops, burning buildings and fallen soldiers wherever she looked. There was wind brushing against her skin as she circled higher and higher. Her thoughts suppressed by a whispering voice in the back of her mind. 

Arrows flew towards her, not able to really hurt her, blades shattering at her skin. The smell of iron and burning flesh intensifying as soon as she turned and counterattacked.

Horrible pictures of death and destruction, endless fighting and blood… so much blood… filled her mind. Her stomach rebelled, making the bile rise in her throat. A steady hollow thumping filled her ears, shutting out all the other sounds. With her free hand she clenched her chest, right where the pain erupted, the center of her golden tattoo.

Thorin noticed her sickly pale face, her small hand curled in a fist, her gaze glued to his new blade. She didn’t look scared, she was clearly terrified. This was not the reaction he expected. He cursed internally, trying to rein in his temper. 

“What is it?” his anger wavered as he slid his sword into its scabbard. 

It had served its function too well, it seemed. Looking back at the Fairy, he was prepared to see a calmer countenance, but her eyes were staring into a void of her own making, her breathing ragged. She didn’t seem to hear his words at all. 

“Speak to me,” he waved a hand in front of her face, but there was no response. “ Enya, can you hear me?” He shook her arm gently without any success.

“Dwalin, what is wrong with her?” he grumbled. “Is she unwell?”

“How in the seven hells should I know? She doesn’t look well,” Dwalin spat, his face strangely contorted as he tried to release his hand from Enya's grip. 

“Get Oin. And Gandalf, perhaps this is a work of magic,” Thorin responded.

“I wish I could! She’s clung to my arm like a rabid warg and she won’t release me,” Dwalin admitted and turned to her. “Lassie, please, come back to us. Thorin didn’t mean to scare ye like that.”

“I wasn’t scaring her, I defended her honor while you were trying to... canoodle with her! What were you thinking?!” his anger flared up again. “Gandalf!” he shouted towards the cave hoping the wizard would hear him.

“Me? Canoodling with the wee lassie? Are you a goat?! She was simply…” Dwalin looked at him sheepishly. “Simply helping me. I had a beard emergency,” he explained, taking a challenging stance. 

Thorin snorted. “A beard emergency? You allowed a woman that is not your wife, not even your intended, to touch your beard and Mahal knows what more!”

“She acted of her own accord! She offered it!” Dwalin retorted proudly, his cheeks reddening.

“She has no knowledge of the dwarven customs!” he replied quickly. Unbelievable. Clearly Dwalin’s brain was turning into a potato mash. “If you think that…”

A series of sobs interrupted his thoughts. As he looked down he could see tears well up in her eyes.

Her vision was blurred from all the tears filling her eyes. The screams still rang in her ears, mixed with a hollow thumping. Under her left hand she could feel her racing heart, her right clenching around something warm. A familiar smell of fire and smoke let her lose her grip and blindly feel around before she felt something familiar. Grabbing onto the fur, Enya buried her face in the soft clothes. 

“Dead… They are all dead! And it is all my fault. Blood and fire everywhere I look. I am sorry… I am so sorry!” trembling she closed her eyes only to open them again. The pictures still burned into her iris. 

Thorin stiffened, first feeling her small hands clutching his cloak and then hearing her raspy voice. Acting on its own accord, his arm held her unstable figure before he could think of doing anything else.

“What on earth is the matter? Half of this forest can hear you shouting!” Gandalf approached them quickly and stopped in front of Enya, his hand hovering above her head, as if he was touching something invisible. Thorin frowned. Wizards and their magic. 

“Can you hear me, Enya?” Gandalf asked in a quiet voice.

“Wizard, what is with her? Do something, she is clearly in pain!” Dwalin growled at the grey-hatted man.

He moved closer to Thorin, taking his place behind his king. Waving his now free hand at Oin, he signalled his older companion to come over.

With Enya clutching his arm, Thorin turned to the wizard, his other arm supporting her back.

“I believe it might be my fault. I approached her too hastily with this sword in my hand. It terrified her,” the dwarven king admitted remorsefully.

“The Gondolin blade…” Gandalf pondered as if to himself, and then nodded. “But of course. It was to be expected.”

“What are you talking about, wizard?” Thorin cut in impatiently. He had enough riddles for one day.

“Spit it out, wizard!” Dwalin growled from behind his king. 

Dwalin was concerned for the wee lasses’ sake. She was nice and he strangely cared for her more than he should. In fact, the whole company of dwarrows had fallen for her the first night they had met her.

“Thorin, how did you come to the conclusion I would take advantage of her in the first place?” the warrior's hard gaze softened as he looked down at her. 

“And why in the world would ye storm at her with a cursed blade in yer hand? You know her fear of weapons!” Frowning, he stared at his friend. Thorin might be his king, but sometimes he really was out of his mind.

“I saw you together!” Thorin growled. “Do not deny your actions!” 

He had enough. Dwalin was supposed to be his right hand, following his lead, securing the camp and not getting sweet on the Fairy nor denying his feelings to his face. 

And the blade… well. Thorin pondered whether perhaps he had been too hasty. Nevertheless, he was the one who found her in the forest. It was his duty to protect her, and certainly not Dwalin’s. Yes, that was it. His cousin had no right nor business to get so close to her. Too close. He growled again, seeing Dwalin flexing his muscles, but then the wizard had the audacity to interrupt them.

“I’ve had enough of your squabbles!” Gandalf interrupted his muttering and hand waving and whatever he was doing. 

Thorin had no clue and wasn’t interested. The wizard seemed to be much more focused on the Fairy than on their questions and exclamations.

Before he could react, Gandalf gently wrapped his arm around the Fairy and took her to a tree stump nearby, muttering something in a language the dwarven king couldn’t understand. Thorin sighed in relief, when she slowly nodded to the wizard and replied in the same language, splashes of color returning to her cheeks. Soon, Oin joined them, bringing some steaming concoction to her. The dwarven king watched her from under her eyelids as she drank it in small sips, tears drying on her cheeks.

“Think not I will forget this,” he spat at the defiant Dwalin who stood with his arms crossed at his chest. “I am not finished with you,” he growled and strode towards the Fairy. There were some words he needed to say.

“Neither will I. You made her cry now for the second time,” before his king could reply to him, Dwalin turned and made his way towards his brother.

Thorin stopped in his tracks in front of the Fairy. The wizard was already gone, clearly distracted with something that was happening on the other side of the clearing. He didn’t mind it at all. In fact, he wanted to speak his mind without any witnesses. One kingly glare at Oin made the medic return to his companions in haste.

“I owe you an apology, my lady. I did not wish to frighten you,” he spoke, lowering his head towards her sitting figure. 

“I am fine. It was not you who frightened me. Your sudden appearance and that new blade of yours…” Enya glanced at the dwarf’s side, “That blade is old. Very old. I recalled something terrifying and the memories caught me off guard, is all.”

“You spoke of the dead. Were you lamenting your kin?” 

Thorin closed his eyes for a moment, recalling the dreaded day when he lost most of his family and his home, the day when the accursed Smaug attacked. Wondering whether the Fairy suffered a similar fate to his, he sat beside her, preparing to provide some comfort.

“No, not my kin. At least I don’t think so… They died because of me. Died by my hands.” Claws , the word suddenly echoed in her mind.

A small leaf in his dark hair caught her attention. She reached up and plucked it from his head, only to spot another between two silver strands. Without thinking, she began to free them from his hair, like she did before with Dwalin.

Thorin stiffened under her touch, both because of her words and her actions alike. ‘Died by her hands’? Surely, she hadn’t meant... 

And then a spark jumped between them. Or perhaps it was just his imagination. Nobody touched his hair. Nobody had done it since… He closed his eyes again. There was no use thinking about times long gone. The fact that he found her gentle movements quite enjoyable and submitted to them, mortified him. Was that her strange magic again? 

He should have stopped her, but he couldn't. He wouldn’t. It was not right. She didn’t know what it meant if a woman touched a dwarf’s hair. He wanted to tell her, he wanted to ask her to continue… No. He had to pull himself together and break that spell or whatever it was that made him act so strangely.

Lost in her thoughts, she continued, “Gandalf, he spoke to me in a very old language. He told me to breathe and calm down. He said I would be safe with you and I believe that too. You did not intend to harm me, so why were you so furious and angry with Dwalin? Did he do something wrong? D-did I do something wrong?” she looked up into his eyes, her hands stopping in her very motion.

“No, you did not. At least, not deliberately,” finally, he gently took her hands in his and steered them away from his head. 

He wasn’t sure how, but they ended up in his lap. He could feel how warm they were, even warmer than his, it seemed. But now, he had to focus on talking, not on her small, delicate hands in his. 

“And Dwalin… it is a different matter,” he furrowed his brow, refusing to think how they might look in the eyes of his companions. A couple sitting together in an intimate situation, just like her and Dwalin not so long ago. Was he too hasty with his judgment when it came to his cousin?

“You need to know, my lady, that touching a dwarf’s hair is a very private matter, reserved only for the closest family members,” he swallowed, trying to choose his words wisely, “like spouses. I believe you meant well, and for that I thank you.” 

Mahal, it was becoming harder than he thought. He was not used to such conversations. And he should let go of those tiny and pleasantly soft palms of hers at once. 

“What you did to Dwalin, and to me, it was… it was...” he decided to look at the nearby trees instead of her face and her large, pleading eyes. “If we were Men, not dwarves, it would be an equivalent of kissing,” finally, he said it. 

It was done. She should understand it now. He could let go of her hands now and return to his companions.

She tilted her head. In her eyes only a big question mark. What was he talking about? 

"Kissing? I am not sure what you mean. What is that? Is it bad?" 

She searched her memories for anything about this ‘kissing’ he mentioned, but there was only blood, fire and darkness. Dwalin didn’t speak of anything like this. How was she supposed to know that she was doing something wrong if nobody told her? Dwalin didn’t say a word and the others only looked or giggled. 

Enya was confused. There hadn’t been anything so complicated when she was still in the forest. There had not been any rules she had to follow, no people that said one thing and did something entirely different. 

An unbearable silence rang in his ears. Thorin looked at his hands, at hers, and suddenly let them go as if they were on fire, jumping up in the process. This was too much. He took a step back, stumbling upon a stone and barely regaining balance. His cheeks burned. Last time he felt similarly embarrassed was when he had to have “the talk” with his nephews. And this situation was turning out to be much worse.

“It…,” he cleared his throat, “It is not bad. Sometimes, it may even be…” his damned throat, why did it suddenly feel so parched? “...pleasant,” he added quietly, averting his gaze. 

“Pleasant? In what way? And what is kissing now? I understand not to touch your hair, even if it is kinda nice. But you still haven’t told me what this kissing is… You know, food is also nice and pleasant,” her confusion only grew.

Staring up at his face, she realized the uncommon red tint on his cheeks. Also  strange. Was he ill? He had been fine just a moment ago. Adding to that, why did he jump up so suddenly? Did something bite him?

Standing up as well, Enya closed the distance between her and the dwarf, extending her hand to feel his forehead, avoiding his beard and hair as he told her to.

“Are you alright? Did you catch a cold while you were stuffed in the sack?” the worry in her voice nearly let her forget the kissing-thing, nearly. 

“Shall I ask Dwalin instead about the kissing?” she tilted her head again, looking into his blue eyes.

He was wrong. So very wrong. To think that he was convinced that it couldn’t have gotten any worse. Mahal, save him. And that wide-eyed, worried look she gave him. The Fairy’s fingers hovered in front of his forehead, almost touching his skin. Thorin wondered how it would f… No. He shook his head and, with a great effort, took another step back. That strange sensation, that feeling of being drawn to her, it had to be fairy magic. He had to overcome it.

“Yes. No! Do not ask him about this!” frantically, he tried to reply to her every question.

“Kissing is… it is a very private matter between two people. Something that one wouldn’t wish to discuss nor do in public.” 

“Aren’t we two people?!” the confusion and even more questions made her head spin.

“No!” he stiffened again. “That is, yes, we are, but not like this!” his breathing quickened.

He explained everything so well to her, why wasn’t it working?! There should be no more of those innocent, confused golden stares and no more of those annoying questions. And on top of it, certainly no more enjoyment at the way her fingers combed through his beard. No.

Strange. He acted really strange. Was it rude of her to do the kissing-thing? They were in private, well, kinda private. Dwalin hadn’t said anything… And Thorin still hadn’t told her how kissing worked in general. Was it something she would say to him? 

“Maybe I will ask Kili and Fili about the kissing. They know a lot!” she spoke her thoughts out loud, before a strange sound from behind Thorin caught her attention.

“They don’t! Not about this!” he wanted to add more, but was at a loss for words when Enya leaned in a bit more, standing on her toes. Her face drew closer to Thorin’s, but her gaze focused on something right behind him. 

So that’s how it felt to be mortified. A completely new and terrifying sensation he hadn’t felt before. At the same time, his mind noticed the flowery scent that surrounded her. The Fairy was very close to him now, so close that he could count the freckles on her nose, the nose that would very soon touch his. And her eyes...

“Look! A puppy!”

Her exclamation almost made him jump. Again. Thorin turned around and followed her gaze. Only then he heard that menacing, gnarring sound he knew so well. Cold, white anger filled his veins. Everything else disappeared from his mind.

“Stay behind and don’t come nearer,” he unsheathed his sword. “It is not a puppy. It’s a warg.”

Chapter Text

The foul beast gnarred, lowering its ugly head. The dwarven king moved ahead, among the shouts of his companions and growls of the wargs serving the orcs. Their large silhouettes loomed up from among the trees, attacking one by one. A single but powerful stroke of his blade was enough to knock down one of those evil creatures, killing it on the spot, and then he moved on to his next target as the other dwarven warriors followed his lead. The battle raged on.

There was shouting and screaming. They all had drawn their weapons. They ran and hid, and followed Gandalf into some small outcrop in the rocks. Thorin had been close to her all the time. He was safe. Kept her safe and calm. The tingling from every touch of his on her skin made her almost drunk, forgetting the danger that dwelled outside.

“What is that? Was the puppy angry?” she asked no one in particular.

They all were catching their breath in the safety the cave provided. Only when she heard the sound of a horn, she stiffened, breaking out of the trance-like feeling she seemed to be in whenever around the dwarven king. 

There was something familiar in that sound, just like before when she had seen the blade from Gondolin. 

‘No, I will not remember. I am safe with them. Safe with Thorin.’ out of instinct she reached out for his hand, this much should be fine, right?

Following the others down the narrow path, away from the danger, she began to realize the fear and anger raging inside her. The adrenaline subsided slowly and she started to tremble. Even more so when she lay eyes upon the shining buildings in the valley. She had seen something like this before. Destroyed, burning. 

Tightening her grip around Thorin's fingers, she murmured: “Bloodhunter!”

Her words seemed to come to him from afar, his mind still focused on the orcs that pursued them. Only when she squeezed his hand, Thorin turned to her, not stopping, a questioning look on his face.

“What did you say?” he spoke in a raspy voice, feeling the warmth of her fingers encircling his and marvelling at the confusing sensation it sparkled deep inside him. 

“Nothing… Just a distant memory, it is nothing, really,” even though her voice was steady, she couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran down her spine. 

His eyes lingered on her for a while and then he let his hand slip out of her grasp as he approached Gandalf. He recognized the place at once. Elves. The dwarven king made sure that the meddling wizard knew of his wrath and then returned to the group.

“Follow me,” he grunted, following in Gandalf’s footsteps with his sword bare in his hand into the pointy-eared lion’s den.

He was still grunting when the elves served dinner that consisted of green leaves and spring water mostly. His foul humor subsided temporarily when Bofur started singing his song and the rest of the dwarves joined in, creating a merry ruckus. One glance at his elven hosts told him more than he needed to know. They were appalled at their frolics and he loved every minute of their discomfort… until a silvery voice chimed in, humming the melody of the song, taking him back to that magical forest glade. Her voice.

Enya clenched her hands, pressing them against her chest. The tall people all around her, elves they were called. These elves constantly held her senses alert, her nerves tense. Most of the time she followed the dwarves, kept close to them, seeking the comfort they offered. She didn’t dare to reach out to the king again, he had made his position clear. 

“How long do we have to stay? I don’t like it here,” she asked Dwalin and Bofur next to her.

Bofur burst into laughter, “Neither do we, but our wizard here thinks otherwise.” 

She nodded, fidgeting with her hands once again. The food was not bad though, but the many eyes upon them were nerve wracking. One stare especially tickled her neck. She slumped down, trying to hide between Dwalin and Bofur, but the hatted dwarf suddenly stood up and began to sing. The merry tune filled her ears and chased away the uneasiness in her heart. Gently she started humming the repeating tune.

“Come, we should dance!” grabbing Nori by the wrist, she stood up, for nothing in the world she would let the warm feeling in her chest fade.

Laughing, she pulled the thief to his feet. They should celebrate as long as possible, rest while they could and dance preferably the whole night.

Thorin rose and then, after realizing what he was doing, he fell back into his chair with a grunt. She danced. She held Nori’s hands. She twirled in front of the red-haired dwarf and he had the audacity to smile and look all too merry. 

“Thorin, why the sneer?” Gloin asked him. “Let us enjoy ourselves while we can! Here, have some wine,” his companion pushed a goblet towards him. Thorin drank the wine in one gulp, but his eyes never left the dancing couple.

“You brought very interesting traveling companions with you, lord Thorin,” Lord Elrond turned to him. “Brave dwarves, a hobbit and a…”

Gandalf cleared his throat loudly. “Yes, yes, well, Lord Elrond, you will find that every member of Thorin Oakenshield’s company has their own unique set of skills. Including our lovely Enya.” 

Thorin couldn’t help but notice the exchange of glances that transpired between the Grey One and the elf and shook his head, wondering why the meddling wizard was trying to achieve this time. He hoped Gandalf would know where to stop speaking before conveying too much information to the elves. Thorin’s quest was a secret endeavour, after all.

The dwarven king exchanged a few polite niceties with Lord Elrond, not divulging anything of consequence about their mission, but the ruler of Rivendell didn’t ask any more questions. At least this elf had manners, Thorin thought.

Enya’s laughter made him turn his head towards the dancing dwarves. Now she was swirling around Bifur who jiggled about, mumbling something in Khuzdul under his breath, while his eyes followed her every step. Thorin furrowed his brow. Was that a blush he saw on Bifur’s face? What business did he have staring so much at her anyway? And what on Arda was Dwalin doing now, joining them?! Wasn’t one dance enough? 

He huffed, noticing the untamed red curls that fell over Enya’s eyes. She tucked them quickly behind her ear and rested her hand on Dwalin’s shoulder while the traitor of a dwarf grasped her other hand. When they started a merry jig around the table, Thorin completely lost his appetite.

After excusing himself from the feast, he directed his steps towards the gardens of Rivendell. He needed a walk, it would do him good to think away from all of this commotion. The cool evening air cleared his head quickly and he chuckled to himself, recalling the irrational frustration he had felt before. His companions deserved to enjoy themselves and forget about their dangerous quest at least for a while. After all, it was his first and foremost responsibility to reclaim their kingdom.

After a while, Thorin found a small, ivy-covered balcony overhanging a stone terrace and sat down on a wooden bench in the corner. He smoked his pipe in silence, admiring all the warm, golden colors the setting sun painted the mountains with. It made him think of the fireplace he used to sit in front of years ago at his home, in Erebor.

“Trust me, Elrond, she is the best chance they have of reclaiming the mountain,” Gandalf’s voice interrupted his musings.

“Mithrandir, you know I trust you. Still, I do not deem it wise to send her on this quest. Where did you find her anyway?” Elrond glanced over at his old friend. The wizard always managed to surprise him.

“This time, I found her in Shire, of all places. I believe the Valar placed her there for a reason,” Gandalf replied.

“I see. I should talk to her for old times’ sake. If she is how you describe her, she may be of help. She might know best how to handle a dragon. But Mithrandir, you are not the only one watching over Arda,” the elf turned to take the right path further into the garden. 

Thorin purposefully emptied the ashes out of his pipe onto the stone floor. The elves always thought of the dwarves as of unrefined barbarians and he certainly wouldn’t want to disappoint them. Especially if they were meddling behind his back, together with the wizard.

He rose with a grunt and decided to rejoin his company while the peculiar conversation he overheard played in his mind over and over. The dwarven king didn’t like what he heard, or rather, what Gandalf kept from him.

Chapter Text

Dori woke her before the sun illuminated the sky. Drowsily she managed to get her things together and follow the dwarrows through the empty halls of the elven home. She was not sad to leave this place. They had been nice to her and it was very good for all of them to rest. Still, she liked it better on the road where there were only her and her dwarrows. 

Climbing the mountains was tedious but fun. The higher they ascended the lighter she felt. Her heart skipped a beat when she reached a plateau that looked over the valley and the surrounding lands. 

“Which way now, Thorin? Left or right?” Dwalin looked at the fork on the road, clearly confused.

“Right, follow the rising sun,” their leader replied, his words resembling more of a grunt of a wild animal. “Miss Enya, you will follow Fili and Kili, they will assist you here. These paths are very steep.” 

Thorin was glad to see her joining his sister-sons without a word of protest. She seemed to be a quick learner. Perhaps she understood that good cooperation was the key to survival of their group.

The path got narrower the further they ventured into the mountains. When the sky opened its gates and heavy rain poured down on them, Enya had a hard time to find a good spot to place her feet. More often she had to search for Dwalin’s arm to steady herself or Bifur’s strong hand would grab her at the last moment while slipping. 

“Thank you,” she smiled each time, but even her smile was washed away as time moved on.

Strangely the thought of falling down scared her less than the thought of losing sight of her dwarrows, especially the younger ones. When they reached a bit wider part of the path, she set herself between Fili and Kili. Ori had his brothers to look after him, but she feared for the princes, especially Kili who was sometimes just too reckless. 

The rumbling of the thunderstorm intensified and a large boulder came flying. It crashed over their heads, sending smaller stones flying towards them. Instinctively, she grabbed the brothers, sheltering them with her body as good as she could. Fear of losing them numbed her mind and fueled a small flame deep inside her. Looking up again, she caught Thorin's gaze.

He nodded, a sign of approval of her swift actions, not uttering even a single word. His sister-sons. His heirs. The time for showing the immense gratitude he felt would come later. And then a sudden lightning brightened her face, its power reflecting in her eyes. Thorin froze. For a moment, he thought he saw an otherworldly pair of pure golden discs in place of her eyes. They seemed to emit a cold, golden glow around their rims while the vertical slits in their center were focused on his face. He gasped.

The lightning flashed again. Slits? No, it was just a trick of light. Her honey-colored eyes looked perfectly normal and had round pupils in them, he could see it clearly now.

“We need to find shelter. Something feels wrong!” Enya screams against the raging wind. 

She needed to bring them to safety. Nothing else mattered right now. 

“These are the Stone-giants!” Bofur roared against the wind.

Incredibly large masses of rock clashed with each other against the backdrop of a raging thunderstorm while the dwarves were thrown back and forth at the mercy of the forces of nature.

“Quick! There is a cave in here!” shouted Bombur, waving at his companions.

Soon, they were all gathered in a dark but luckily dry stone chamber, away from the battle of giants.

Her clothes and hair were soaking wet and sticking to her skin. Enya's sight blurred slightly, watching the others entering. Bombur was about to start a fire with the little wood they had brought, but Thorin intervened. She had her hopes up for a second. Something warm and dry, some food and a bit of rest. Shivering she nestled herself in an outcropping, spreading the coat over herself. 

The steady rain and the loud thunder had irritated her senses while the continuous worry over her dwarrows had exhausted her. In fact, they all were exhausted and nearly collapsing on the sandy floor. There was a strange smell in the air and in the back of her cloudy mind a warning bell rang, still, it most likely was the rain as it never had done her any good. 

“Kili, let me have a look at that scratch! Did you get that when the boulder fell?!” worried she stumbled over the pile of dwarrows towards the young prince.

“It’s nothing, really!” Kili replied sheepishly, hastily covering up the bloody skin on his thigh visible through the torn fabric of his leather pants.

“Nothing doesn’t look like this!” determined she grabs his hand and moves it away to get a closer look at the wound. 

“But it’ll soon stop bleeding on its own, I’m sure!” Kili’s cheeks darkened as she started examining the injury.

“Oh don’t be such an idiot.” gently she began to clean the wound, kneeling before the dark haired dwarf. “We can’t risk it to get infected,” strangely, she knew what to do.

“Ouch!” a high-pitched gasp escaped the young prince’s mouth. 

The dwarves turned towards him in surprise. Everyone except Oin, that is, since he was busy with taking care of Dwalin’s wounded arm, his hearing not as good as it used to be. Even Thorin raised his head, frowning at the interruption in surveying the cave they found themselves in. Alarmed, he saw Enya’s red curls hovering over Kili, or, to be more exact, over the lower part of his body. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

With one hand still holding Kili’s wrist to hinder him from interfering with her treatment, she managed to clean the wound successfully. The cut wasn’t too deep, but still dangerous if left untreated.

As she kept on cleaning the wound, a shadow fell over Kili and her. And there was an animal-like growl coming from somewhere.

“What. Are. You. Doing,” Thorin uttered slowly, each word filled with menace. How dared they. The company was preparing shelter, and these two were acting like… like... 

“Cleaning and treating his wound obviously,” she raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What did it look like to you?” she gestured with her hand, still holding Kilis.

“Yeah, Uncle, what did it look like?” Kili grinned widely, the same smile he had every time he managed to do mischief.

Her vision blurred once again making it hard to clearly see his face. With her free hand she wiped some dripping curls out of her face. Water really was bothersome. 

Thorin’s large frame loomed over both of them. His stern gaze fell on Kili’s face. He huffed in indignation. That cheeky youngster. Then he turned to Enya, to her large, golden eyes looking at him with curiosity, to her wet face and clothes, to the way she carefully held his nephew’s hand on the side of the freshly dressed wound so that he wouldn’t poke it. The dwarven king swallowed and endeavored to sigh inwardly. Trying to ignore the sudden warmth blooming in his chest, he hoped that no one would notice the relief on his face.

“Well,” he cleared his throat and spoke measuredly. “No matter. Is this hand of his wounded as well?” he openly pointed to their joined palms.

“I don’t think so…” her vision blurred once again, slightly darkening the world around her. “Or is it?” Enya brought Kili’s hand right in front of her eyes, giving her best to focus and check for any other cuts.

Another shiver ran down her spine and she began to tremble uncontrollably. Her hand tightened around Kili’s hand. The ground strangely swayed and swirled.  

“Look, the ground is dancing! And the air is full of fish and goblin,” finally she could interpret the strange smell that had bothered her since entering the cave.

Funny how this smell made her hungry. Maybe because she had fish for a very long time in her forest? Maybe Bombur would make her some fish plate if she would ask? Some other smell filled her nose. Familiar and calming. With big round eyes she turns toward the source of the pleasant smell. A blurred mix of black, blue and skin indicated where the dwarven king stood. 

“This s‘nice… fresh rain and flowers,” abruptly she let go of the hand she held, almost jumping up and taking a step towards the source of the smell, “Smoke, ‘s no fire… no fire, no death… s’nice.” Enya’s words slurred more and more towards the end while she took another step forward. 

Under her hands she could feel the soft and slightly wet fur, but also a comfortable heat, like a campfire or furnace would emit. Really the perfect conditions to rest her eyes for a second.

“Rain…?” he rumbled, slightly confused. 

Those little, seemingly fragile hands touched him, embracing, and then her head rested against his chest, nuzzling the fur of his cloak. He stiffened, unsure how to proceed. Well, maybe not quite unsure, he was a king after all, and a decisive one, always. It was simply that trustful gaze in her strange eyes that made him… hopeful. Hopeful? He surely meant “careful”. Yes, careful was a good word. After all, he’d promised himself not to scare off the Fairy any more. She was just a lost creature without home, like the dwarves. And totally soaked through. Something warm stirred in his chest.

Thorin looked at Kili, frowning at the big, silly smile plastered on his face. His frown deepened when his stupid, clueless, childish sister-son signalled in Iglishmêk: “I think she likes you, Uncle!”

He ignored the brat completely. Replying to such unsubstantiated insinuations was below his dignity. Instead, the dwarven king looked at her mane of red curls intertwined with his fur. The Fairy was completely still now. He turned towards the nearest stone pillar and slowly sat down, gently wrapping his arms around her lithe body, wondering whether she was too exhausted to move or simply had fallen asleep. The least thing he could do was offer her his body heat and make sure she could rest undisturbed.

As she was moved, Enya moved her hands in search of some more of the comforting warmth, finding her way underneath the coat and wrapping her arms around the source of the heat, her head resting on a firm pillow which gently rose and sank. Hearing a steady thumping in her ears, she relaxed slowly, nuzzling her nose into the fur from time to time. Wrapped into something warm and surrounded by the entrancing smell she managed to glide into a peaceful sleep, snuggling a bit closer. No memories or nightmares bothered her that night.

Thorin looked at the fragile creature in his arms. The Fairy seemed to be sleeping, breathing steadily, looking peaceful. That warm, fuzzy feeling continued to grow in his chest. He glanced at his companions, but they all were busy with drying their clothes and taking out their food rations. Only Kili kept staring at him, still grinning. 

“Blanket,” he rumbled as quietly as he could.

“What?” Kili tilted his head.

“I need a blanket. The F… miss Enya may be cold,” he replied. 

Kili’s grin widened. Thorin hated it. Luckily, his annoying nephew did what was asked of him and soon the little Fairy was properly covered with it, he made sure of it, holding her close. He felt satisfaction due to fulfilling his duty. Because it was a duty, nothing more. And it certainly didn’t have anything to do with that fuzzy feeling that kept uncoiling in his chest. He was sure he would do the same to anyone, dwarf or not, who would show such bravery, risking their life for his sister-sons. Even if that someone didn’t smell as nicely as she did.

“Thank you,” he managed to whisper the words of gratitude into her hair, his lips brushing against her red curls. Soon, the last shreds of consciousness left him and dreamless sleep followed in their wake. 

A warning shout woke him mere moments before the ground beneath the company swallowed them up.

Her pillow shifted underneath her. Cold wind blowing in her face and distant screams ringing in her ears made her snuggle only deeper into the warmth. It was way too comfortable to wake up now and spoil her first night of peaceful sleep. 

A heavy impact forced the air out of her lungs and the arms around her tightened, securing her position. There was more shouting and screaming, something tugged on her clothes and grabbed her hair, still, the warmth never left her and the rocking made her drowsy again, sending her back to sleep.

‘What a horrible lullaby…’ Enya thought while listening to the strange lyrics and cruel voice. 

Her position had changed once again. Now one arm held her legs while the other steadied her back. Enya’s head rested once again against the steadily thumping and warm chest. She adjusted her head into a more comfortable way, her nose rubbing against the soft area of his neck. Another wave of pleasant smoky aroma tingled her nose.

A bright light, shouting and darkness once again. Gentle and not so gentle rocking of her body. Another whiff of cold wind brushed through her curls and tickled her skin while the screeching sounds grew more and more distant until silence embraced her once again.

Thorin gently placed the sleeping Fairy under a tree, his chest still heaving after the long run from the goblin caves. It didn’t seem like anyone was chasing after them and the whole company deserved a moment of respite. 

Sitting beside her, he recalled how it felt to hold her against him and protect her from harm from the goblin’s filthy paws. There was this special kind of softness about her and that vulnerable look on her face while she was sleeping. The dwarven king stared at her serene features for a few moments, trying to understand what has happened to her. Has someone put a spell on her to make her sleep so soundly? Why didn’t she wake up when they fell underground nor when they fought their way through the goblin swarm nor ran through the maze of tunnels? He felt a pang of unease but there was also something that made his heart beat faster. Worry, perhaps.

“Gandalf, I believe miss Enya may be unwell,” Thorin looked at her with concern, reaching out to touch her cheek and then stopping himself as soon as he understood what he was doing. Why would he even do that?

“Do not worry, Thorin Oakenshield,” the old man chuckled. “The continuous rain might have weakened her a bit, but her kind is prone to long sleeps. I wouldn’t have thought that she really would. They only sleep when feeling safe,” he brushed his long beard, searching for his pipe.

“Her kind?” the dwarven king looked questioningly at the wizard, slightly relieved at his words. “What do you know of her kind?”

“Well…” he had found his pipe and was cleaning it with his sleeve when a howl interrupted him. “No time for this now. Run!”

“Oh no, not again!” squealed terrified Ori, but Nori was already pulling him into the direction shown by Gandalf. 

“Wake up, miss Enya, wake up,” Thorin’s hand reached towards her cheek again on its own accord and touched it gently. It reminded him of a ripe peach warmed by the summer sun.

Something warm brushed against her cheek. Unconsciously she searched for that warmth, rubbing her face against the rough palm and giggling drowsily as the calloused skin tickled her. 

A deep hum reverberated in his chest and that sweet feeling of warmth returned to him. Howls sounded in the distance. There was no time. He had to protect the Fairy, she was so fragile, so defenseless. Thorin lifted her again, cradling her to his chest as he did before, and started following his company. He would bring her to safety and then kill every single orc and warg that would try to approach her. 

“Prepare to fight! We will hold our ground here!” he shouted to his companions as they arrived at a cliff with a group of large trees at its edge and looked around to find a good hiding place for the Fairy.

Once again shouting surrounded her, but this time it woke her completely. A foul smell replaced the natural scent of the dwarven king. Angrily she opened her eyes, taking in her surroundings. 

Most of the dwarrows were already up in the trees, as was the wizard and the small hobbit. Looking over her shoulder she could spot some more of the puppies from before. Strangely they had some ugly frogmen on their backs. 

‘So you could ride them!’ a small and utterly confused part of her brain shouted out.

Enya struggled to get out of Thorin's arms. This was really no good position to fight. Well, she wasn’t sure how to fight. Maybe she could-- 

A warg snapped at her, interrupting her train of thoughts. Her shirt ripped and an uncomfortable pressure weighted down her chest and shoulder. 

“You are a really bad puppy!” she growled back at the warg that locked its jaw around her while she proceeded to hit it on the nose until it released her.

She shoved it back, crashing it into another warg, as one of those ugly frog-things rushed at her, a rusty blade in its hands. Enya didn’t feel any fear as she did when that strange elven blade was aimed at her. Only anger raged in her stomach. She lifted her right arm up, ready to strike her enemy when two pairs of hands grabbed her arm from above. She was heaved onto the next best branch where another pair of hands was waiting to bring her even higher. 

Sitting on the highest suitable branch, Enya could watch the puppi-- wargs she corrected herself, angrily jumping and snapping at the trees. They had to jump from tree to tree as they fell victim to the fire of the burning pine cones or the sharp teeth of the warg. Suddenly silence fell upon the cliff when a white warg with a similar white frog-thing on its back appeared in the middle. 

He spoke to them in a dark and disgusting language. Strangely this speech was not unknown to Enya. Thorin must have understood the taunting words as well. He rushed forward, ignoring the terrified and warning screams of his companions as well as the screeching laughter of the white frog. 

Ice-cold horror spread through her body as she could only watch her dwarf being knocked out and thrown around like a ragdoll by the warg. Even more stunning was the hobbit’s reaction. He was the first one to storm at the enemy, tackling the one approaching Thorin. The others followed quickly and a battle broke out. 

Enya on the other hand focused her senses singularly on the king lying on the ground. She could see him breathing so he would be alright for the moment. A scream made her turn her head only to watch Dori and Ori lose their grip on the tree branches and fall into darkness. Her heart stopped.

‘No. No!’ her mind screamed out.

The fluttering of wings confused her. Were the dwarrows able to fly? Why didn’t they fly the whole journey then? A large eagle answered her question. He had the brothers on his back, safe and sound. She exhaled. Without realizing it, she had held her breath. They were safe.

Turning her head back to the battle, she could just see how another eagle gently picked up Thorin. Bilbo as well as the others were picked up one after the other as well. The white frog screamed and cursed, drawing her attention back to him. It was his fault. He was the reason they had been in danger. He had hurt Thorin. Had tried to kill him!

The ice in her veins from the fear of losing them was replaced by a raging fire of hatred. She could feel the wood splintering under her fingers. With a scream filled with rage and fury she stormed at the pale-skinned enemy, letting her anger run free and breaking the spell Gandalf had calmed her down with, setting something deep inside her free. 

His vision was blurry. His chest hurt. A painful buzzing filled his head. He was… laying down. Floating. Weightless. Dizzy. A whiff of wind brushed his hair away from his face. Thorin squinted. There, below. Something gold and ruby red, like an arrow. Something fast. Was it…? 

It slashed its way through the orcs with its claws, attacked their throats with its pointy teeth. There was a growl, too. Or maybe a howl, he wasn’t sure. Dark, thick blood gushed from their wounds. The wargs quickly fell beside their masters. Azog, that filth, roared in response. Thorin felt bile rising in his throat, tried to grasp for his sword, but couldn’t make even a slightest move, as if invisible shackles bound him. 

The lightning-fast creature moved ahead, each of its movements painting deadly, black patterns with the entrails of its victims. Suddenly, it turned its head back and looked at him. Thorin frowned as a growing wave of nausea overcame him.

Those eyes. Those glowing, impossibly deep golden eyes. And those shining brightly scales around them. And its arched eyebrows were as red as rubies. As red as dwarven blood. His eyes widened when the creature’s gaze rested on him. Its vertical irises narrowed into slits. It blinked. It hissed. He opened his mouth to speak, but the last spark of strength left him. His vision blurred again and then there was only darkness. Darkness and wind.

She came to her senses in the middle of a dying fire. Disfigured corpses lay in a circular pattern around her. Black blood splattered on the ground. Enya herself was covered in the stinking substance. It dripped from her fingertips and dyed her red curls black. 

Spitting remaining pieces of flesh and blood on the ground, she turned towards the last corpse nearest to her. The white flesh was ripped and covered by the dark blood. 

“Serves you right, frog. Remember to never target what is mine,” she spat again at his remains before turning around to the edge of the cliff.

Taking a few deep breaths, she managed to calm herself. The adrenalin that had rushed through her veins had vanished and the exhaustion took over her body. In the distance she could spot an eagle emerging from the night sky. Gandalf had probably sent it to pick her up. With a shaking hand she waved at him, signaling that it was safe now to come over. 

She carefully spread her traveling cloak over the soft feathers on the eagle’s back. She didn’t want to dirty them with the blood that stained her. She was thankful that he was even willing to carry her on his back. Looking down on her hands, Enya began to slightly tremble.

‘What was that? Was that really me? I… there is something inside me, something dangerous,’ shaking her head, she banished those thoughts.

As soon as they were up in the skies and the cold wind cleared her mind a feeling of joy warmed her heart. Flying. Soaring freely through the skies. Leaving solid ground and all the troublesome problems behind. Oh, how she had missed this. 

Missed this? A sharp pain erupted from her back, taking her breath away. Gasping she crouched down. The air refused to enter her lungs as another wave of pain shook her body, followed by flashing memories.

‘Enya could hear her heart pumping blood and adrenalin through her body. A roaring from her right side made her turn her head. Her opponent was back on his feet and ready to attack again. Gathering her last remaining strengths she got up again. He charged and ran at her, baring his fangs. Growling. Enya growled back, her lips slightly parted, showing her own fangs. 

It was done. He was dead. The price for his defeat were two large scars on her back. He had taken her freedom as she had taken his life. After all the bad she had finally done something good. May the valar judge her in her next life.’

The eagle landed on a large rock. She thanked him for the ride and being able to feel such freedom once again. Then her eyes met the deep blue of Thorins.

The Fairy was safe. The tension in his bruised body slightly subsided. He slowly stood up, helped by his companions and looked at her. At once he was drawn to her golden eyes. They reminded him of something… something alarming. He couldn’t remember. There was softness in her gaze that contrasted with the rest of her. The Fairy, her face and clothes, all of her was covered with orc blood… was there her own blood too?

He rested on Dwalin’s arm and took a few hasty steps towards her.

“Are you well, miss Enya?” he uttered through his teeth, ignoring the pain he felt. “Oin! Miss Enya is hurt!” 

The elderly healer appeared out of nowhere and rested his gaze on Thorin’s battered face and then on Enya, as if trying to assess who needed his help more.

“Help her,” Thorin grunted, trying to stand upright, ignoring his injured leg.

Oin sighed and took a careful look at Enya’s bruises and cuts.

She winced as she smiled down at Thorin. He was bloodied and bruised but still alive. They all were alive! Relieved, she let out a sight, stumbling towards her dwarrows. Her legs felt like jelly. Tears of joy running down her cheeks.

“I… I saw you fall!” she embraced Ori and Dori tightly before turning towards the king. “I… you… Why did you let the puppy play with you?” she hugged him, almost knocking Thorin of his feet, her nose buried in his neck.

“She seems quite fine to me,” Thorin heard Oin chuckle as he frantically tried to find his balance. 

She was fine. He half-smiled to himself and, hesitantly, returned the hug, gently wrapping his arms around her, not willing to crush her fragile body in one of the famous dwarven hugs. She was pleasantly warm. And he was getting used to that flowery smell.

“The puppy… the warg…” he grunted, still trying to process everything that happened after they were attacked by the orcs.

“Look, a thrush!” Ori shouted in excitement, pointing at a small bird that just passed them by. And then another winged creature followed.

“The birds are returning to the mountain, as it was foretold,” said Oin pensively.

“The mountain…” Thorin murmured feeling how his throat became suddenly constricted and then he turned his gaze towards his companions. They all were staring in awe at the dark, sharp contour of the Lonely Mountain against the burning backdrop of the sky at sunset. Erebor. His heartbeat quickened. 

“Enya… Miss Enya,” he cleared his throat and lowered his face towards hers, finding it hidden in the fur of his cloak. “Please, take a look. This is our home,” finding new words was more difficult than he thought. His injuries, this fragile forest creature in his arms, the closeness of his homeland. A myriad of sensations at once overwhelmed him. 

“It is a lovely mountain! Do you think it is possible to go to the very top? I would love to feel the wind there,” she separated herself a bit but not letting go of him entirely.

“I traveled to the top of the mountain several times with my father. When we reclaim our kingdom, it would be my honor to show it to you,” he said quietly, his eyes following the familiar slopes of Erebor, recalling the trail to the top.

Her eyes started to sparkle as she looked up to him again. “Yes!” she exclaimed her arms looped around his neck. “I would be glad to see your home.”

“Indeed. That is… I am glad to hear it,” he stumbled over words, blinking several times, not daring to move after her hands slid between his hair and neck, her fingers entangled in his dark strands. No one had ever touched his hair before. No one. But now she did and he didn’t mind at all.

Looking around, she could spot a steep path down from the Carrock. It would be better to know that they were safe. She suspected Gandalf to have a friend somewhere near, or at least someone he knew could help them.

“Gandalf, we need a safe place to rest and Thorin needs it the most,” Enya was still confused, but also tired and exhausted. It may be fine to leave it to the wizard this time.

Chapter Text

“Quick! Inside, you fools!” Gandalf shouted, holding the large wooden gate open while the dwarves rushed inside. A terrifying roar sounded in the distance, making young Ori jump with fright and disappear inside of the giant lodge in the blink of an eye.

She had been wrong. That wizard was insane. Now there was a giant bear chasing them! She stopped at the gate, ready to stall for time for the others to head inside. A growl escaped her throat, challenging the beast in front of her.

“Are ye crazy, girl?” Dwalin howled, grabbing her tunic and pulling her inside with Gloin’s help. “He’ll eat ye alive!”

With everyone inside, they closed the gate with a loud thud and blocked it with a heavy wooden beam. They could no longer hear the beast’s roars. A collective sigh of relief escaped their mouth. Thorin grunted approvingly. They were safe. At least this was exactly as the wizard said.

It didn’t take them much time to realize that they found themselves in a gigantic yet simple abode. Food, water and shelter. Everything one could have wanted to survive the night. Oh, and there were peculiar animals there, too, attending to their every need. 

After the supper, the dwarven king ordered an early night’s sleep so that his company could get some well-deserved rest after the recent ordeal. Clean, with his wounds dressed and belly filled with food, Thorin laid down in his bed, enjoying the softness of the mattress and the warmth of his wool blanket, and waited for the sleep to come. And then he heard a noise next to him. There was a large, spotted dog, walking on his hind legs. The animal approached the Fairy and sniffed at her. That was the last thing he saw before sleep claimed him completely.

Enya stared into his eyes as he stared back. The giant dog seemed to understand her as did the other animals. They had brought food and water as well as additional blankets for the newly arrived guests. 

“I need to bath… Never knew that frog-blood could smell so horrible,” she explained to him. As an answer he only sniffed her hair and turned around, signing her to follow. 

The water was warm, just like back in the Shire, but Enya didn’t stay too long in it. After drying her hair and putting on the fresh clothes that waited for her on the floor she made her way back inside.

She could hear the loud snoring even before entering through the kitchen. They all had been exhausted. The continuous fighting and being chased had taken their toll on them. She looked around. In the far back, where one had a perfect view both over the room and the entrance, she could spot the king. 

He needed her protection more than the others right now, she decided. He was wounded, vulnerable. Grabbing her blanket, she made her way over the piled up bodies. She might have stepped on a few, but Dwalin just grunted and Bifur only turned the other way.

“You are safe now, I promise. The white frog will never bother you again, ever!” she whispered, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, before crawling under his blanket and snuggling up on his chest. 

Something tickled his nose. Thorin moved his hand to his face, trying to chase away whatever disturbed him only to find a mess of soft curls under his fingers. There was something pleasantly warm resting against his chest. And an arm wrapped around him. He opened one eye. No. It couldn’t be. He had to be dreaming. He opened the other one. No. The stubborn dream wouldn’t go away. 

The Fairy was sleeping soundly, cuddled up to his chest. How did she get into his bed? He froze, thinking about the impropriety of the situation, hoping that no one would notice while he would carry her back to her own bed. He was about to scoop her gently into his arms when several chuckling noises filled the air.

 “Well, well, dear cousin, have you slept well?” Dwalin giggled under his breath, moving his eyebrows up and down in a suggestive manner.

“And here I was, thinkin’ that our king was only interested in swords,” mused Bofur with a playful glint in his eye.

“Look at that, Fili! Mother was wrong! Uncle Thorin does have a slight chance!” the younger one of the two brothers grinned.

“Yeah, Uncle, what are you waiting for? Strike the iron while it’s hot! Kiss her!” Filli joined the playful exchange with an innocent look on his face. 

“Yeah, we would finally like to know where dwarflings come from!” added Kili.

Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror felt his face growing hot as a furnace. A growl rumbled in his chest. He decided that answering those pesky youngsters would be below his kingly dignity. His arm rested against Fairy’s rising and falling back, as if trying to protect her from their merciless taunting.

The warmth intensified as did the shouting in the room. Nuzzling her nose against his neck once more, she opened her eyes. Through her red curls she could see the company. All eyes were on her and Thorin. 

“Where do dwarflings come from?” she tilted her head, looking innocently up and around. Sitting up, she leaned against his arm to steady herself.

“They…” Thorin’s eyes widened as he quickly sat up, his heart beating fast. His cheeks burned as if they were on fire. “You should not listen to their babbling. I apologize for my companions and their immature jests,” he shot a murderous glance at the culprits.

All of the dwarves were awake now, chuckling and laughing. Even Bifur was making kissing noises. They had no shame, Thorin decided, glaring at them pointedly. They didn’t get the hint, of course.

“Miss Enya,” he addressed the Fairy, not meeting her gaze. “Would you be so kind and follow me? I believe we need to talk in private,” with these words, he stood up, waiting for her reaction.

Enya stood up as well, still confused and a bit drowsy from being  woken up so suddenly. The company watched them, curious at what would happen next. In Bofur's eyes she could see the mischief that was also present in the young princes’ eyes. Still, she couldn’t understand how her actions and questions were wrong in any way.

Had she done something wrong again? Like last time? She was quite certain that she hadn’t been going around and kissing people… whatever kissing was! Thorin still hadn’t cleared that up as well. She would have to ask him again.

The nearby pantry was a cool and quiet place. It smelled of fruit and honey. And, what was most important, it had a door with a proper latch. Thorin smirked. His sister-sons would be greatly disappointed, not having the opportunity to eavesdrop.

“Miss Enya, I understand that you do not know much about the dwarven culture. That is why it is my duty to inform you that joining a dwarf in his bed, especially when done in the presence of other dwarves might be understood as a sign of…” he cleared his throat, “a declaration of sorts…,” for Mahal’s sake, why was he suddenly at a loss of words?!

He started again, “It could be understood that there is a certain… relation between us,” he finally uttered, feeling his cheeks burning.

“We are not related at all… you don’t look like my kin in the slightest. having a beard and all,” she concluded, proud of understanding his somehow lousy explanation. 

“Precisely,” he started, but Enya kept on talking before he had the chance to continue.

“But why is it still not alright? You are very warm, like a furnace! And my kin often sleeps in large piles to share warmth. Do you not share your warmth with others?” tilting her head, she waited for his response.

He was bright red. Hopefully he hadn’t caught a cold or a fever from his wounds. Her gaze wandered to his chest. Staring she tried to determine if his wound would have reopened or not and how heavy the injuries had been.

“I… do not,” he replied, clearing his throat again. “It is not something we dwarves do. Unless we are… married.” Oh Mahal, this would be the perfect moment for the ground to swallow him whole.

“Married? Is that like kissing?” she still had a whole lot of questions and as it seemed Thorin was the only one who could answer. He didn’t want her to ask another one of the company after all. 

“No, it is nothing like kissing. Or perhaps… It contains a bit of kissing, yes. But it is… it is… much more. Much, much more,” he stumbled over his words. 

Where was Dis when he needed her? She was so good at explaining things to young dwarven ladies. Thorin furrowed his brow, trying to recall what she would say in such a situation, but the Fairy relentlessly continued peppering him with questions.

“You still haven’t told me what exactly kissing is… and where dwarflings are coming from!” she added, remembering the comment of the prince from earlier, stepping closer, looking up and him directly in the eyes.

There was something stuck in Thorin’s throat. Again. He cleared it, but nothing helped. The ice-cold lump was still there. But he was a warrior. He would meet this challenge head on, before she starts asking those silly dwarves in the room nearby. And before they would fill her head with frivolous ideas.

“Do you… do you know where your babies… I mean to say, babies of your kind come from?” he held his breath.

“Of course! They hatch out of eggs, you dummy,” she laughed at him. “But you have such weird customs with your kissing and sleeping and not being allowed to touch the beard… Thought I just might ask!” she smiled at him, bringing her face nearer to his while reaching out for the honey bread behind him.

“Out of… eggs?” his eyes widened. Did baby fairies hatch from eggs? When he was a dwarfling, his mother’s mother told him stories about fairies and how they would come out from the most beautiful flowers.

“It is different with dwarves,” he looked around helplessly. “We certainly don’t hatch. We… Our legends say that the first dwarves came out from stone,” he hoped that this would satisfy her curiosity once and for all. “That is why we are so sturdy,” he puffed out his chest proudly.

“Ohh, that is fun. You smell nothing like stone, you know!” she poked him interested in the chest, like she had done on their first meeting as well. 

Still, this was nowhere near a clear explanation! Fine, if he didn’t want to talk properly about it she had to resort to more drastic options.

“What do I smell like, then?” he asked without thinking, focused on her finger disappearing between the folds of his tunic.

“I will not tell you!” she pouted, stepping back toward the door. “If you won’t tell me properly what kissing is, then I am going to ask Fili and Kili, they at least seem to be willing to talk about this!” her hand reached to the handle as she added, mumbling, “Might show me even so I understand…” 

“NO!” he lunged towards her, blocking the door. “You will not do such a thing! They are too young to know what they are talking about,” he grunted. “You must understand, Miss Enya, this is a very private subject for dwarves.” 

“Then I just ask them in private, I do not see why this might be a problem! If you are not willing to tell me, I will have to ask someone else!” she felt the anger rising in her stomach. 

Why wouldn’t he just tell her? She had done something wrong once again but he just wouldn’t tell her what! How was she supposed to know this and how was she supposed to avoid it in the future?

“Miss Enya, you will sit down here at once,” he pointed at a three-legged pall that stood by one of the pantry shelves. “And you will listen to me very carefully. And then you will not ask any such questions to my sister-sons, is that understood?” 

What an infuriating creature this Fairy was! She, a young woman, openly asking him, a male dwarf, such intimate questions and demanding answers. Highly improper. And threatening the king! Outrageous. A small voice in his head admitted that he’d faced feral beasts and orcs before, but this conversation was turning out to be much harder than any battle he had taken part in.

“Fine, but you have to answer all of my questions!” she demanded.

He only huffed in response and folded his arms on his chest.

Sitting down where he had pointed at she crossed her arms before her chest, patiently waiting for his answers. She was still confused on how dwarrows didn’t sleep in piles. They had so much heat in their bodies, why not share a bit of that? And it was really nice too… 

“So. About the kissing,” he took a deep breath in defeat and set his gaze on a jar of pickled cucumbers on one of the shelves. “It is something that the dwarven couples do. But only when they are alone. And when they lo… when they have feelings for each other. Big feelings. This is the way of showing these feelings to each other. Privately.” His cheeks were on fire. He wondered whether the Fairy would notice if he was to pour the liquid contents of that jar on his face to put out this raging fire. 

“Right, you mentioned something like that. So would you kiss Dwalin? You and him are quite close, right? And how exactly is this kissing done?” her curiosity had awakened. 

Finally he answered her questions and stopped talking in riddles. Maybe her kin had something similar? If he would just tell her the exact action she would have a reference...

“Out of the question! Me and Dwalin?! We are cousins! You do not kiss a person you are related to! Not like that!” he needed to calm down. To breathe. Yes, that’s it. Nice, long breaths. Pickles. Think of pickles.

“But you said that to sleep with another person you would have to be related and kissing and sleeping together in the same bed would be equal? Or something more? I don’t quite understand… So would you sleep with him then?” This whole thing was really confusing!

“I said that there has to be a relation between two dwarves to kiss or to...” damn that lump in his throat again, “to share a bed. Not that they had to be related. On the contrary. The relation I spoke of is…” oh, Mahal, this was a torture. “It can be marriage for example. It is when two unrelated dwarves have great feelings for each other and also want to join their fortunes. They sign a special contract. Afterwards, they share their life together and their riches are combined as well,” he spoke as quickly as he could, wanting to be done with it once and for all. “And then they can kiss and share their bed, and have dwarflings,” he sighed, feeling completely exhausted.

“Okay, I think I get that part. Still, I think it is rather inconvenient. You know, you are as hot as a furnace and it would be a waste to not share that heat!” deeply thinking about the new information she had acquired, Enya nibbled at the honey bread she had taken from one of the shelves. The sweetness made her almost drunk and the strong smelling juice she sipped afterwards made her feel drowsy. 

“And how do you kiss someone?” asking her next question, she took another swig from the fruity juice. It tasted really funny, making her throat tickle.

“I…” That cursed lump was stuck in his throat again. He had to cough several times before it finally disappeared. “It is not my place to say, Miss Enya. Does your kind show affection in any way?”

Enya thought a moment about it. She had heard of such stories, surely there must be something in her memories. How did her mother make clear that she liked her father? 

“Oh, I know! My mother gifted my father with a rather large ruby! She said it had glinted just like his hair in the sunshine. And she did prepare a rather large pile of food too.” Maybe it was better not to mention what exactly was that ‘food’... 

“Father then challenged every other male who tried to approach her and won, so he was granted the right to spend his life with her. If my grandfather wouldn’t have liked him he would have probably killed him from the start, so father was rather lucky. Father then went on and searched for a suitable home for them, big enough for their treasures and stuff…” she concluded what she knew from her mother's stories. 

Thorin always thought fairies to be sweet and gentle creatures. It seemed that he was wrong. He certainly didn’t expect them to have a bloodthirsty streak as well, but perhaps it would be rude to point it out. At least they seemed to appreciate treasures as much as dwarves and that was something he approved of.

“Among dwarves, it is a male who gives precious stones and jewellery to the lady he chooses to spend his life with. A dwarven woman is considered the greatest treasure a dwarf can be honored with,” he explained, looking away from her innocent golden gaze, suddenly feeling inexplicably embarrassed.

The large flask was empty by now and Enya could feel a giggle rising in her throat, remembering the pretty stones she had collected on their journey. Rummaging through her pockets, she brought them to light. These were no match for her mother's gift to her father, but still. 

Right in this moment, in this dim pantry, feeling light and free she had realized something. Her mother had warned her while she herself had been telling her all thrilled about this feeling. She had told Enya how overwhelming the desire to possess and hoard could be. Her mother had fought off fiercely all the other females that had set their eyes on her father. Her father had been protective, yes, but her mother had brought it to a whole new level and it seemed that she inherited the same streak. 

The sheer thought of the dwarves leaving her was terrifying. Losing even one of them was not acceptable. She would fight for them, protect them! But the thought of losing Thorin… 

Standing up, she made her way over to the flustered dwarf. She stumbled and swayed a bit, but still made it safely. A saying from her mother had come to mind: ‘If you want something to be yours, never hesitate, Feyanna, take it before you regret losing it!’ 

Grabbing the dwarven king by the fur of his coat, she pulled him down so his face was right before hers, staring him in the eyes.

“Mother sayed once to claim what is yours, and I like the warmth you provide!” staring him in the eyes for another second she gathered all her courage and rubbed her nose against his.

Flushing bright red she let go of him, shoving the stones against his chest, and storming outside.

First, there was the warm, golden glow of her eyes. Then, the sweet smell of honey and flowers. The soft skin of her nose brushing against his. His dark strands of hair intertwining with her lush red curls. The warmth fluttering in his chest. This was… Mahal, this....

Suddenly, she disappeared, taking all the warmth with her and leaving only the cold, unpolished gemstones in his hands. An irregularly shaped tourmaline, two small amethysts, a topaz and several other stones. He furrowed his brow. Was this a payment of some sort? A payment for what? ‘I like the warmth you provide,’ she said. He felt the heat creeping up his cheeks again, and then he scolded himself. No, she was too innocent for that, surely. Besides, what did she say about claiming what was hers?

Just then he remembered what the Fairy said about her mother giving her father a beautiful ruby when she chose him as her husband. His breath hitched. He had to grab a nearby shelf to catch his balance. The unfortunate jar of pickles fell to the floor, crashing into small pieces, its contents covering the whole floor. A shiver ran down his spine as he tried to breathe.

By Mahal’s lush beard, had the Fairy just proposed to him?! 

Chapter Text

Enya was dizzy but determined. She could do this… She had already done it! She had proposed to her dwarf. Now he would only have to claim her by defending her. Her mother had warned her as this step would hurt both of them, but was highly necessary to be sure that he meant it. 

Swaying she made her way through the large house, past the various animals and towards the other dwarrows. For a short moment, she steadied herself in the door frame before stepping inside. 

The warrior was sitting at the table, together with Kili and Fili, Bofur and Balin. Enya grabbed his hand. 

“I need your help with something. Come.” It was not a request. 

She pulled the confused dwarf outside, towards the small river flowing by the garden. As they arrived at its bank she aimed for a spot under a large tree, secluded but still well visible from the house. Sitting down, she signed Dwalin to do the same. 

“I might have done something foolish…” she started, but swayed a bit more as she leaned in, “So I need your help! He might get angry… I hope he gets angry! But believe me when I tell you that this is the only way!” she leaned in a bit closer as a hiccup made her jump.

“Wait a minute, lass,” Dwalin squinted after he sat down. “What are ye talking about? Are ye drunk?”

“Maybe I am…” another hiccup made her jump slightly, “Maybe I am completely insane… You have to trust me on this. Braid my hair!” demanding, she turned her back towards him.

“Do ye think I’d touch yer hair now after what happened at the troll cave? And whom do ye want to make angry….” Dwalin gulped. And paled. And then reddened. “Nooo… Tell me ye are not trying to…” he cast a scrutinizing look at Enya.

“He has already told me what it means to touch another one's hair! So stop being all whiny and start braiding!”

“If ye know what it means, ye’d know that he’ll have my head when he sees my braid in yer hair! I’m too young and too handsome to die such a gruesome death!” Dwalin exclaimed.

“But I did my part by giving him my treasure… Our noses even touched for Valars’ sake! So now the rest is up to him!” crossing her arms, she cast another meaningful look over her shoulder.

“I can see ye’re positively drunk, lassie! What treasure? And what is this about noses?” he shouted in confusion.

Blushing Enya turned around once again, “Might be like your beard touching-kissing thing for my kin…” she blushed even harder, burying her face in her hands.

“Oh,” this silenced Dwalin for a few moments. He scratched his bald, tattooed head.

“I have given him my treasures, the best part of my collection, and if he accepts… well he would have to defend me! This is why I need your help! He wouldn’t kill you, I guess...” a pleading look in her eyes she begged him once again to help her out.

“Kill me? No, of course not. He will disembowel me first!” Dwalin grumbled, not entirely immune to the charming look on her face. “I have known Thorin for my whole life. Even a blind dwarf would notice the looks he gives ye or the way he gets extremely grumpy around ye sometimes. But I don’t know ye and if ye want me to help ye, I need to know what’s in yer heart,” he explained firmly. 

“He has to defend me…” Enya stated again. “This is just how it is. If he chooses to not do so, then I am going. It would be heartbreaking for me, but these are the rules of my kin.” she shrugged, holding back the tears at the mere thought of leaving.

“Now, now, lassie, no need to cry,” he patted her hand gently. “I’m not asking ye about some rules. I want to know your intentions towards my cousin.”

Looking over her shoulder, she held his gaze. A small sigh escaped her. She really needed his help, but he most likely only would help if she explained herself. 

“You dwarrows really are curious creatures,” she sighed again, “I get anxious when I can’t see him… When he is in danger, my blood runs cold and then suddenly starts to boil as the anger rises and I can only think about bringing him to safety. I want to protect him, keep him safe…. Is that strange?”

Dwalin stood up and started pacing back and forth for a long while, tugging at his whiskers and mumbling something to himself.

“He is so very warm… and whenever he is near I feel safe. He calms me down and his scent makes me drowsy and when he goes away I always fear that he won’t come back!” Finally a single tear rolled down her face. “I don’t want to lose him. Will you help me? Please!”

The large warrior looked at Enya and sighed. “By Durin’s beard, I’ll help ye both, lassie. That grumpy oaf will either hate me forever for this or give me a bear hug, and I’m not quite sure what’s worse. But I have one condition: be gentle to him. He bears a heavy burden and doesn’t need more pain.”

When she nodded in reply, Dwalin smiled widely. “That’s settled, then. And now, we may need more culprits to help us. Fili, Kili get out from behind those bushes, you’ve heard enough!”

Fili and Kili didn’t have too long to search for their uncle. The leader of the company, Thorin Oakenshield, proud king on the quest to reclaim their homeland, was pacing in front of the pantry. Once again he was frowning but now, for quite a different reason than a dragon as the brothers knew. His cheeks were still slightly crimson and in his right hand he held some small shining gems. 

“Uncle! Here you are!” Kili entered dramatically , followed by his brother.

“We were looking for you everywhere!” Fili chimed in. 

The two of them exchanged a look and nodded in agreement.

“I thought you would have spoken with Enya…” Fili started, “...and told her about our customs?!” followed Kili, his face as if it was made of stone to hide his amusement. “Especially the thing about dwarven hair…” he continued, poking his brother, “... yeah and the meaning of receiving a braid from a male dwarf! I mean Dwalin is respectable and quite a good catch too.” Fili shrugged, looking at his nails. “Such a good fighter too!” Kili claimed, delivering the deathblow and watching his uncle closely.

“Quiet! Both of you!” Thorin had enough of their constant buzzing. They were clearly delirious. “What in the name of Mahal are you talking about?” he growled, clutching the gemstones in his hands.

“Well…” they both exchanged another long look, as if they truly had to think about sharing those informations, “We might or might have not seen them near the river…” Fili started again, “Very romantic atmosphere! And such a beautiful braid too.” Kili grinned wide.

Thorin looked at them, puzzled. She was just right here, her small hands touching his, offering him the precious stones. None of this made sense. Or perhaps he was a very silly dwarf thinking that the Fairy offered more than she really did. But this… Dwalin… the braid… after he and Fairy… in the pantry… His vision blurred. He saw red. The traitor struck again, and against his explicit wishes. The viper. How dared he do this behind his back? 

“WHERE?!” he roared, his fists tightening as he strode to the door. He wouldn’t even need a sword. He would punch his face into the ground with his bare fists. This son of Fundin would pay for this offence dearly!

The princes flinched at his sudden outburst, but it was for his best! It really was… even if he couldn’t see it at that moment.

Thorin found them by the river, just like his sister-sons said. They were sitting close to each other, their foreheads almost touching. The Fairy giggled at something that filthy traitor said. We’ll see if you think it’s funny, Dwalin, just wait a few moments, he thought to himself.

The dwarven king quickened his pace and appeared at the riverside, trampling the nearby bushes in the process. It was their fault, after all, they had the audacity to stand in his way. Just like Dwalin. 

“What is the meaning of this?!” he growled at the couple, fuming with rage. His eyes glinted with menace when he noticed a braid in Fairy’s hair and a familiar bead with the sigil of the house of Fundin. His blood boiled. The traitor had no right!

Her bright giggle quieted down as she turned her head to look the newcomer straight into his eyes. Happily she noticed that they gleamed in rage.

“Oh, hello master Oakenshield! Look at this, isn’t the braid just beautiful?” to give her statement more power she pointed at the new braid in her red curls, smiling as bright as possible., even though the action made the bile rise in her throat. Panic laid its cold grasp around her heart.

In just two strides Thorin loomed over Dwalin and lifted him by his tunic.

“You double-crossing coward,” he attacked his ex-best friend away with a forceful push. “You treacherous leech,” he swung at him, but Dwalin was fast enough to dodge.

“Easy now, Thorin…” Dwalin started with an outrageous smirk that made Thorin even more furious. How dared he smirk at him at this moment? He would make his worm of a cousin feel much less triumphant.

“I will take it easy,” the dwarven king started, landing a punch on Dwalin’s face. “When I’m done with you!” … and then Dwalin punched back before he had a chance to double-back. What a skunk. Thorin retaliated quickly, knowing well of his cousin’s weak points, hitting him with his knuckles and growling with joy. Then, he dodged, and parried, and an exchange of blows ensued.

The braid Dwalin had put in her hair, under protest, was completely untangled by now. She had watched the two dwarrows fighting each other for a while now. Satisfied, she had noticed that Thorin hadn’t hesitated a second before attacking his rival and defending his right to claim her as his. 

Standing up, she patted away the dirt from her trousers and stepped nearer to the two fighters. In that very moment, Thorin separated himself slightly from his cousin and she grasped the opportunity, jumping into his arms. 

Leaving her joy run free over the fact that he had accepted her, she first nuzzled her face against his bare neck, before rubbing her nose against his once again. Flustered, she buried her face at his chest, snuggling herself closer into his warmth.

“I knew you would fight!” she breathed with a smile in her voice. 

Thorin blinked. Once, then twice, not understanding anything. He didn’t understand why Dwalin, with his bruised face, sat down on the ground and was laughing himself senseless. 

“Thorin, you bloody goat! We’ll both be sore in the morning!” Dwalin chuckled and turned towards the river to wash himself. “And you can thank me later!”

At the same moment, a pair of small arms wrapped itself around his chest and something very soft and familiar nuzzled him. And there was that flowery scent, too. His wrath started slowly subsiding. He looked down. The Fairy. She was there, in his arms. He couldn’t remember when he returned her hug.

“Dwalin, he…” Thorin started, but the right words didn’t want to come. “I saw you… and him… and the braid…” there was a question somewhere there he wanted to ask. He wanted to understand. His mind protested.

“I asked Dwalin for help… I needed clarification if you feel the same. Mother told me it would be very hard, but I never imagined that my heart could hurt so much! I am glad you came to defend me, Aroha,” she grinned, looking in his unbelievably blue eyes, plucking a few leaves out of his hair. 

Thorin stood there, unmoving, the world whirling around him while the Fairy stood steadily in his arms, anchoring him.

“Aroha?” he repeated slowly, not understanding.

“Aroha means ‘love’. A nickname in the ancient language of my kin. Mother told me that it is very important to name what is yours so no other may snatch it,” she replied honestly.

“And by the gemstones you meant...?” he asked, his mind clouded, desperately trying to ignore the “L-word” he just heard.

“I told you before! They are my present to you. As our customs describe it, the female presents the most beautiful gemstone out of her hoard and gifts it to the male she wishes to spend her life with. The male then would have to fend off any other suitors that try to approach the female.” she averted her gaze, “I know that my hoard is not really grand, and my treasures are only small, but I give them all to you gladly!” she slightly panicked as she searched for his eyes again.

He huffed as his gaze met hers, thoughts galloping around in his head like a herd of wild ponies.

“Your nephews helped too, you know. It took you quite long to come and find us,” Enya pouted slightly, but nuzzled her face lovingly against his chest once more.

“First… Dwalin? And then… my nephews? And they agreed...” Thorin looked at her in surprise, and then at his cousin by the river. “I need… forgive me, Enya,” with these words, he took a step back, and quickly walked along the river, away from everyone. He had to think, to disentangle the knot of thoughts in his mind.

“He’ll be alright,” Dwalin remarked, following his king with his gaze. “He’s in his brooding phase again,” he shook his head, hiding a smile.

***

Splash. Splash. Splash. A flat white stone fell into water with another splash. Thorin was sitting at a secluded place by the river, busying his mind with the current situation and his hands with skipping stones across the water. He was a warrior. A leader. He knew everything there was to know about fighting, tactics and ruling a kingdom, but none of it prepared him for this. This Fairy. For him, she was… 

Splash. Splash. Splash. He felt as if the water swallowed his mind together with the stone. All the knowledge of dwarven courting customs was useless to him. This feeling he carried in his chest was completely new and different from everything he’d felt before. 

“Aroha”, she said. “Amrâlimê”, his heart replied in khuzdul. Such a big word. Worthy of a treasury filled with riches, of a crown he didn’t possess. Worthy of a true king, not a vagabond without a home, trying to find his way back to his kingdom. What did he have to offer her? Nothing. Nothing but…

Splash. Splash. Splash. A shadow fell on his face and a familiar figure sat next to him in silence, her red curls blowing in the faint breeze.

The silence surrounding them was calming and comfortable. Of course Thorin would have to think about it again. Her gems hadn’t been very big or grandiose, but he had still accepted. She knew that there were quite a few things they would have to talk about. Enya didn’t know very much about dwarrows and Thorin knew close to nothing about her kin. Well, she didn’t either, apperiently. 

Lost in her own thoughts, she picked a few flowers from the riverbank, weaving them into a small crown. This reminded her of her first meeting with the king. A king without a crown, how sad. 

“What will happen when you find your crown?” she looked down sadly at the half finished crown in her hands.

Would he never again wear her flowers? Maybe his crown was way prettier than her poor attempts. Maybe she wasn’t enough. He was a king after all. Kings had gold and gems, so many riches. Why would he care for some flowers picked by the riverside?

“I shall honor my duty to my people and serve them as their king,” Thorin replied quietly, as if to himself. “I shall no longer roam the wilderness. There are vast riches and breathtaking, spacious halls waiting for us in Erebor. It’s the most beautiful dwarven kingdom you’ve ever seen,” he took a deep breath. “I wish to show it all to you. My home,” he added, looking intently at the currents in the river. 

“Home.” she whispered. 

The only home she had ever known had been the wilderness. The forest in which she had awoken and the large cave near deep in the mountains, surrounded by a large forest. What would it be like to have a home?

“Yes, I would quite like that.” smiling she placed the crown on the water surface, watching it being taken by the current.

Watching the flowers making their way down the river Enya remembered something Dwalin had told her. She knew that hair was precious to dwarrows. Still, a special braid, including a bead with the symbol of the dwarf made the courting official amongst dwarrows.

“Thorin? Won’t you braid my hair? It gets in my way quite often,” she hinted gently.

Splash. The stone fell straight into the bottom of the river.
Thorin turned towards the Fairy and said, “You want me to braid your hair?” His eyebrow lifted quizzically. “You don’t mean it, surely,” he protested. The Fairy clearly didn’t know what she was asking of him. His hand found its way into his tunic pocket that contained the gemstones she gave him. First, she offered him this treasure. The hair braiding came next. And what did he have to give her? There was nothing equally precious he could reciprocate with. He looked at his hands and shook his head in confusion.

“Well, If you don’t want to, I could always cut it short.” Enya shrugged as if she didn’t care, turning her back towards him.

There was doubt in his voice. Why she didn’t know, but she clearly disliked it. What else did she have to do for him to understand her intentions? Why in the world would he doubt her? She had given him her treasure along with her heart and even… even rubbed her nose against his. Twice!

“Never!” he exclaimed, mortified by her words, resting his hand on her shoulder. As she slowly turned back to him, he explained quietly, meeting her gaze, “Your hair becomes you, Enya. It shines like gold in the sun. Do not rob me of the… privilege of looking at it while you run your fingers through your hair in the morning,” he felt heat creeping up his cheeks and averted his gaze, hoping he didn’t divulge too much. 

“Why not help me with that? Ori did his best to explain how to properly care for my hair, but it is such a hassle to comb it every morning only to have the same knots in the evening,” she pouted, being reminded of the ever returning torture.

“If I were to have the honor of braiding your hair, it would mean that I laid a claim on you, Enya. But how can I do that without a treasure, safety nor home to offer?” he replied, his mind in turmoil.

“You did already, though. You have accepted my gems, defended me and I named you mine. With that you have every right to kill an approaching male, as do I have the right to kill any female who lay their eyes on you.” 

“There is no need for killing, unless it’s the enemy,” he retorted quickly. The Fairy’s kin seemed to be more bloodthirsty than he expected. Perhaps they had more in common with dwarves in battle rage than he expected.

She paused for a moment, looking over her shoulder into his eyes, “I do not need any treasures, what is mine shall be yours and I trust you with my life, enough to sleep peacefully as long as I know you are near. Home is where your heart lies and mine is with you. I like you for who you are, Thorin,” turning around she slowly reached out, lightly touching his chest. 

She could feel his heartbeat under her fingers as she continued, “The first time I met you, you were a lost wanderer, you had nothing but yourself to present. As I traveled with you, I learned more and more about you, about your kin and your customs. I did not fall in love with a king. I fell in love with a lost wanderer, searching for his home. So at least call me by my name, Aroha.”

He looked at her in stunned silence for a long while. Had the Fairy just used the “L-word” again? She was so open and uninhibited, not caring about any customs nor traditions. Dwarves weren’t supposed to talk about their feelings at that moment, first they had to go through a long period of courting and only then would they dare to speak from their hearts. Perhaps that openness was what she expected in return. He was determined to fulfill her wishes, but first she had to know the most important thing that shamed him greatly, “There is nothing else I can give you. Not yet. Nothing else but me. If you will have me, Enya.”

With a happy squeak she turned fully around and jumped into his arms, burying her face into his chest. Joyfully she snuggled herself into a comfortable position, nuzzling her nose and cheeks against his chest and neck. 

He held her in his arms, looking down at her, not quite believing his joy yet, a smile tugging at his lips. Now he was sure what that warm feeling in his chest meant.

“You bewitched Dwalin, my sister-sons and the rest of the company, and it appears that you stole my heart as well,” he murmured in amusement. “You truly are a Fairy!” he added and gently pulled her closer to himself, not wanting the embrace to stop. There was no reply as her breath steadied slowly.

“Are you asleep, Fairy?” Thorin rumbled.

“Do it now…” she yawned. All this talking and the nervousness had tired her out. “Wanna show them… later…” 

Already half asleep she smiled, “you smell real nice… Forest… home… smoke’n flowers… I like that.”

“If you say so, Amrâlimê. If you say so…” he chuckled, finally allowing his heart to feel the impossible weightlessness, his worries gone, his mind filled with clarity. 

As soon as they reclaimed the mountain, he would lavish her with the greatest treasures of Erebor, he promised himself. His nimble fingers moved gently along the waves of her red curls, admiring their softness. Soon, his own braid pattern emerged among her strands.

The last sound he made was a click of his silver bead on Enya’s new braid. It all seemed so easy and effortless. Holding her sleeping figure close, he rested his back against a nearby tree and closed his eyes, lulled to sleep by her peaceful, measured breaths. She was tucked safely in his arms. His Fairy. And now, he felt safe as well.

Chapter Text

Thorin didn’t like that enchanted - or rather cursed - forest at all. Gandalf had warned them about Mirkwood and then went his own way, as wizards do. Now they could only rely on themselves and their weapons. He cast a look at Enya, his Fairy, who walked a few steps behind him. A small smile danced along the line of her lips when he met her gaze and couldn’t help but smile in return. Warmth spread in his chest. He had her to protect now and he would do everything to keep her safe in these dangerous surroundings.

“Uncle, are you going to court Enya when we’re back in Erebor or will you marry her straight away?” Kili grinned, raising his voice so that every member of the company could hear him.

Thorin sighed inwardly, “Do you want to draw unwanted attention to us here? Keep your voice down!” he scolded his sister-son, hearing Fili snickering in the background. 

The dwarven king had to admit to himself that he had been wondering about this for a while now. Would his Fairy come to love Erebor as he did? Would she take interest in dwarven customs and traditions? And, most importantly, did she truly wish to be his consort and share the burdens he would bear as the King Under the Mountain?

The woods with its rotten smell made her nose tingle and the low light under the thick canopy made it harder to tell how long they had been wandering around. The only thing that reassured her and held her from losing her mind were the blue eyes of the king, her mate. Whenever he turned his head to look if she and the company were fine and still able to go a bit longer, new strength flooded her limbs, making it possible to press on. 

There was definitely something wrong with the forest. There were no animals in their surroundings. She might have believed it may have been because of the noise the dwarrows produced, but there were no traces at all. Neither scents nor sounds, only the oppressing silence from the darkness. 

Kili's question had set loose a train of thoughts. How did dwarrows court? What if she did something wrong? And how the heck was she supposed to respond? Should she act the same way her kin would court? Well, most of the conditions were fulfilled. Only the actual ‘claiming’ of one's own was to fulfill. 

“What is ‘marry’?” she blurted out the questions, “And how do dwarrows court? I mean, aren’t we already ‘one’?” stopping abruptly.

Thorin abruptly stopped in his tracks and cast a mortified look at his companions behind, hoping that they hadn’t heard her words, ignoring the chuckling he heard.

“Walk with me, my dear Enya, and I will gladly explain,” he spoke quietly. “My kind marries when they find a person they want to spend the rest of their life with. It is an oath, a promise made to each other and to the world. But first, there is courting when the couple exchanges special gifts and both learn more about the person they chose.”

“I did gift you with my treasure, was that no good?” she felt tears rising in her eyes as she stopped walking alongside him, “I have…” she frantically searched her pockets, “I, I can give you something else. I have it here somewhere!” her hands started trembling and the gems and small shiny trinkets glided through her fingers, falling on the leaves on the ground.

“And as for being ‘one’,” he cleared his throat in embarrassment, looking away and feeling a sudden urge to closely observe the patterns on the caps of his boots. He needed to find the right words and hope to be correctly understood, “This is something married couples do when they share their bed,” he said under his breath. But she didn’t seem to listen to him any longer. His companions were chuckling even louder.

Squatting down she starts picking up her scattered treasures mumbling, “But we did sleep in the same bed.”

He felt her radiant eyes on him with the breathtaking swirls of molten gold inside them. Her gaze burned him to the core with disdain when he heard her say, “But we won’t sleep in the same bed. We won’t marry. You are not worthy of me. No treasures to offer,” each of her words cut him deeply. And his companions would chuckle, and chuckle, and they would mock him, and they would not stop.

Tears started rolling down her face. Looking up she could see Thorin only blurred. Hastily she wiped away the tears. He was standing  right in front of her, looking down on her. Frowning. He extended his hand as if to help her up. Enya reaches out to gladly accept his offer, but instead he opens his hand, showing her the best parts of her collection, the ones she had gifted him. With a smirk he let them fall through his fingers to the ground. 

He saw her hand moving towards him, filled with more glittering gemstones. Her voice was full of disdain, “Look at the riches Dwalin offered. He is a brave warrior worthy of me. And you have nothing to your name and you never will find your crown,” as she said it, he swayed as if suffering a blow. The cursed chuckling that filled the air grew louder.

“No, Enya, my enchanting Fairy, wait…” he shouted as she backed away from him.

“You really thought I might like something like you? You, my fairy? Dream on,” she heard him say and then he just walked away.

“You really thought I might like someone like you? Never. I chose Dwalin instead of you, Thorin. Goodbye,” she lashed at him, her arm wrapped around Dwalin’s, a triumphant smirk on both of their faces. He could only stand still, observing as they walked away from him, disappearing behind a veil of red leaves swirling in the air.

He was lost without her.
And his companions kept chuckling. 

***

“What have you done with her?!” Thorin yelled, but, as so many times before, only silence responded to him. He rested his head against the thick metal bars of his cell and closed his eyes. First, they lost their way in that blasted forest, the magic of Mirkwood playing tricks on their minds, then the giant spiders came out of nowhere, and finally, the pointy-eared tree-lovers decided that it would be a good idea to capture them all and throw them into the Woodland Realm’s dungeons. 

Thorin realized that their chances of escaping the dungeons weren’t too good, especially after the little “talk” he had with that arrogant piece of kakhuf inbarathrag*. Thranduil was a cunning king, but not cunning enough for him. Thorin could see right through his greed for the white gems the elf craved so greatly. Perhaps he allowed his temper to flare a bit earlier in the elven king’s throne room, but he was sure that with a bit of effort he could continue the negotiations and convince the ruler of the Woodland Realm to see reason.

But there was another urgent matter that worried him immensely. Enya was nowhere to be found and the guards refused to inform him of her whereabouts. Thorin was still slightly confused about what really happened in the forest, but before he had the chance to smash Dwalin’s face against the nearest wall, the haze of Mirkwood's malignant spell lifted from his mind, bringing him back to reality. His sweet, innocent Fairy wouldn’t have tormented him with such cruelty. Not her.

“I demand to know what you have done to her!” his words reverberated against the walls of the dungeon, echoing through the countless tunnels and staircases, but not finding a single shred of an answer.

***

It was dark at first and then these strange pale and tall people came. They separated her from her dwarrows. But what did it matter? Her one and only, her dwarf didn’t want her anymore. The blond one escorted her into a large room. Inside, there was only him, Enya, the red-haired warrior and another pale person. 

He had long white, almost silver hair and on his head there was a crown of leaves and branches. He looked as if he shone from the inside, just like a star, but his eyes were cold and he had no smile on his lips.

The redhead was still pointing her sword at her, while the blond one greeted the man. Looking around, she could spot a throne at the end of a beautiful staircase and there were guards in every corner. 

“Well, well, well,” the king of the Woodland Realm said, slowly approaching his newest and most interesting captive. “What do we have here?” he eyed her from head to toe. “You travel with the dwarves, you’re as tall as their women but you don’t look like one. Not hairy enough!” he smirked.

Enya flinched slightly at his last comment. He was right. Maybe she was just not appealing to Thorin, dwarrowdams had a beard and were strong and sturdy. She on the other hand looked small and fragile.

“They took me along, because I did not know where to go. And what are you? You are so tall! And pale! Maybe you should go outside more?” she watched him closely, tilting her head, he smelled weird.

The elven king bared his impeccably white teeth and chuckled, but his amusement didn’t reach his stone cold eyes. “I am the king of the elven realm in this ancient forest,” he made a little bow.

“Have you realized that your realm is ill?” she asked him, eyes wide open and completely serious.

He took a step towards her, “You are more perceptive than I expected.”

“Well, you smell of spring and life and earth, as does this part of the forest, while the rest smells of death and decay, foul and ill,” the memory of the dark forest made her tremble, just like the image of Thorin leaving her. 

“The forces of darkness are slowly gathering beyond my reach, but you…” he made another step and cast her a piercing look, “You know something of darkness, do you not?”

“I know as much of darkness as I know of light. What is it to you? And why are you so different from lord Elrond? You are an elf too, are you not?” leaning in she tried to get a closer look at his crown. 

“Ah, but he is Peredhil*, not one of the Sindar, like I am. You, on the other hand, are…” he lowered his face towards her. As he did so, his eyes widened and the skin on one of his cheeks suddenly melted, showing a jagged, burned scar. 

“Does it hurt?” concern filled her voice as she instinctively reached out. 

King Thranduil covered his cheek in visible surprise and quickly retreated a few steps back. “Do not dare to touch me!”

“I am sorry… I didn't mean to hurt you! I, ehm, can I do something for you?” she takes a step forward, closer to the king.

“Yes! You will be very useful to me when the time comes! You will be Oakenshield’s downfall,” the haughty elf shouted. “Tauriel! Take her from my sight and lock her in a separate cell!”

The red haired guard took her away, deeper into the dungeons. She could hear the dwarves’ shouting echoing through the hallways. They went deeper and deeper until no light from above reached the paths and only torches lit the way. They put her into a small cell, carved out of the stone wall. The door was made out of solid iron bars. At least they gave her some decent food and something to drink.

“Miss elf! Excuse me, but are the dwarrows fine? Are they healthy and fed?” she feared for them and the desire to protect, to have them near and in sight almost overtook her senses. 

The red-haired guard who locked her in the cell tilted her head slightly and said, “As fine as they could be, being kept in an elven dungeon. Can’t you hear their shouts of joy?” she smirked.

Sighing, she slid down at the wall, “As long as they are safe, I won’t comply. Could you please tell them I am fine too? Tho- Dwalin, please tell Dwalin that I am fine. He is the warrior with the many tattoos. The shouting might end too then,” she smiled exhausted, looking up at the female elf.

The elven guard looked at her for a moment, nodded without a word, and then disappeared.

***

“Thoriiiin! Thoriiin!”

“What is it, Dwalin?” the dwarven king rose from his cot.

“She is alive and well!” his cousin shouted back.

“How do you know?” Thorin asked hopefully.

“A little… well, not so little pointy-eared squirrel told me,” Dwalin laughed and the rest of their company joined in.

“And do you believe the words of an elf?”

“Well, it’s not like I can go and check myself!” Dwalin huffed.

Before Thorin could reply, he heard Balin’s voice from the adjacent cell, “Speaking of which, let us focus on leaving our cells as soon as possible. Then we’ll be able to find Enya.”

“Do you have any new ideas?” Thorin growled.

“Hello,” said Bilbo, suddenly appearing in front of the dwarven king’s cell.

Chapter Text

They ran as fast as they could, with Bilbo and Dwalin in front and Thorin in the back, helping Oin to catch up. Soon they arrived at the elven cellars while Bilbo explained his plan to them. 

“Make sure that everyone is in the barrels. If you get discovered or if I have not returned soon, leave without me,” Thorin addressed Dwalin.

“And what about ye? Where are ye goin’?” his cousin narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“I will not leave Enya in these dungeons, at the mercy of the tree-lovers,” he grunted, clenching his fists. “I have to find her.”

At that moment, Dwalin lifted his head and glanced at something behind Thorin’s back, smiling widely, “I’d say ye just did.”

She had heard shouting and the hectic footsteps of the elves echoing through the tunnels. What had happened? Were her dwarrows alright? What about Thorin?

The decision was made on a whim. She used her strength, acquired through the food she had, to break open the metal bars. The two guards in front of her cell were too shocked to even block her way. 

She hurried through the endless tunnels and eventually found herself even deeper in the maze. Up, she needed to go up! But still, the sweet scent her aroha had left was sending her deeper into the realm. 

There, near the wretched sound of an underground river, she found them all. Completely healthy and ready to get out of here.

“You are fine! Thank the Valar you are fine!” she whispered, hugging the king from behind.

Feeling Enya’s embrace, Thorin turned around to face her, first with surprise, and then with a wave of relief that filled his chest. The Fairy was truly there. Not caring about the chuckling Dwalin, he wrapped his arms around her and did something he hadn’t expected himself. He lifted her from the ground and swirled her around him as if he was an enamored young dwarf and not a mature dwarven king.

“Amrâlimê! I thought I lost you!” he pulled her close to him as the flowery smell surrounded him. The strange vision his mind had been assaulted with in Mirkwood was completely forgotten. Having her in his arms, he understood it had all been a hallucination, a work of foul magic. But at that very moment all was well again. Enya was with him now and he wouldn’t let her out of his sight ever again. 

He felt so warm and real. Ideally she would have never let go of him ever again, the visions she had in that Valar forsaken forest still freshly in her mind. Taking in a deep breath of his scent, she slowly began to relax and the tension she had felt while roaming through the halls slowly left her muscles. 

“There is no time to lose!” he reluctantly let her go. Only his hand held her palm tight. He wanted to make sure that she wouldn’t leave his side. He was determined to protect her from any harm they may encounter.

They swiftly ran back to his companions who’d already climbed into the barrels.

“Enya, you are going with me,” Thorin pointed at the nearest empty barrel and climbed in first. The Fairy joined him after a few moments. There was not much room inside, but he pulled her close, feeling her warmth and smiling at the way she nuzzled against the folds of his tunic. 

Of course the plan was to jump in the blasted river. Whoever thought of this surely had the plan to get them all killed! 

Water had never been a friend of hers. Enya enjoyed the sun, summer and the warmth of a fire. Water was fine as long as it was meant to drink and wasn’t found larger than a puddle. Lakes were bad, but you could avoid them. Rivers on the other hand were too fast and too unpredictable. 

As they landed in the river, a large wave of cold water washed inside the barrel. Thorin shielded her from most of it, but the small amount that managed to drench her clothes cooled her skin and made her feel drained. 

“Thorin? I am afraid… I don’t like the water. It makes me… strange,” she whispered against his chest, clinging to him.

“It will not be long, Enya. Hold on to me. We will soon be out of this river,” he murmured into her wet hair with his arms protectively wrapped around her. He could feel her quickening heartbeat. “I’m here with you,” he reassured her, shielding her from as many bumps and splashes of ice-cold water as he could.

The last words of the elven king replayed in her mind over and over again, “She will be Oakenshields downfall.” she didn’t know exactly what he had meant at that time, but surely she didn’t want to hurt her love. Separating herself from him would be painful, but if he would be fine, it would be worth it.

After a particularly sharp turn in the river’s current Thorin felt that her body stiffened. His Fairy seemed to be more scared of water than she was willing to admit. He held her even closer, wishing that he still had his fur-lined cloak with him to wrap her in its thick fabric and keep her warm. 

“Orcs,” Dwalin shouted. And so the fight began.

***

They finally found themselves on the shore with the orcs in retreat after their glorious counterattack. Thorin had to admit to himself that perhaps the elven warriors who happened to help them weren’t completely useless after all. He shrugged and returned to more important matters.

“Enya, we are safe now. No more water, no more orcs,” he said, but there was no reply. She was resting against his chest, but didn’t make even a slightest movement.

“Enya?” Thorin repeated, seeing her chest slowly rising and falling. “Dwalin, I need a hand. I believe she has lost consciousness,” he heard his own words while worry crept into his mind.

It was cold, so cold. A shiver ran down her spine, shaking her whole body violently. Too afraid to open her eyes, she closed them tightly. No more water! She swore to herself. And if she could, she would have moved to the desert. 

Like through cotton she could hear a familiar voice. The words were hollow and the message of those words just wouldn’t reach her mind. Right under her fingers she could feel something warm. Out of instinct she clung even closer to this warmth, snuggling up to it and pressing her whole body against its source. 

“Cold…” she could hear herself mumble, strangely distant. 

Her limbs felt like stone, her muscles too tired and her skin as if it had been pierced by a hundred and thousands of small needles. Her head was heavily leaning against the warmth. Another wave of shivers shook her body and a painful whimper escaped her throat.

***

The Bargeman was a strange fellow and Thorin didn’t like him much. The Man of Laketown seemed somewhat secretive and not quite trustworthy. It didn’t escape the Dwarven King’s attention that Balin only managed to convince the man when an offer of money appeared on the table. Or rather, he corrected himself, on a splinter-ridden bench of his barge that smelled excessively of fish. He noticed Dwalin observed the Bargeman with a frown. It was time for him to return to a more pressing matter. Thorin’s eyes rested on a frail figure wrapped in a patched-up blanket, laying beside him. Enya’s face was pale and only shallow movements of her chest told him that she was still with them. Something clenched in his chest unpleasantly.

“How is she, Oin?” Thorin turned to his older companion who was examining Enya. “Why does she not wake?”

“I am not sure, Thorin. She is no dwarf, so I do not know how to treat her. At first it just looked like a small cold from the icy water, but it seems to be severe. I am at my wits’ end. First we need to get her dry and warm though,” the healer answered with a worried look down at the bundle of clothes. 

Thorin looked ahead, noticing blurry shapes of buildings looming out of the loitering fog. Their arrival in Laketown was imminent. He touched Enya’s forehead with his hand. It was unusually cool, almost cold.

“Be strong, my Fairy. Be strong,” he whispered in Khuzdul, finding her small, limp palm and squeezing it gently. That was when he felt someone’s eyes on him. 

“Will she be alright?” the hobbit asked.

“Let us hope so, Master Baggins,” he responded, stifling a worried sigh. 

Kings did not sigh nor did they worry. At least not openly. There would be time to do that when they arrived at Laketown. He looked once again at her unmoving face. She was always so full of life, now uncharacteristically devoid of emotion. Wondering what could have happened to her, she clearly wasn’t wounded, he noticed that his attempts at warming up her hand weren’t very successful, as if the warmth from his body was disappearing somewhere without a trace. He stood up.

“Master Bargeman! May I ask you whether you can recommend us proper lodgings in Laketown? My,” he cleared his throat, “Our companion is... unwell. We need a warm, comfortable place.”

“No need to be so defensive, master dwarf. Do not worry, your wife will be just fine once in front of a cozy fire,” he grinned in the dwarven kings direction. 

Thorin growled. And then he heard a faint chuckle behind him. He quickly turned around, but there were only his companions, all with serious looks on their faces. Serious and innocent. Too innocent. He scowled and spoke to the Bargeman.

“My… all of my traveling companions deserve some rest. And an ample amount of food,” he decided not to correct the man. The details of his relationship with his Fairy were none of the Bargeman’s business.

What do the Men know about dwarven customs, after all. He looked away, trying to pierce the all-encompassing mist with his stare. Any suggestions that Thorin, the King Under the Mountain, was turning his face away from everyone in order to hide his flushed cheeks, he would find preposterous! Bard, yes, that was his name, had called Enya his wife. Well. He could have sworn that it was certainly not the reason his heart was beating so fast! Surely, the weather had something to do with it. Stupid people of Laketown. What did they know?

The Bargeman offered them his own lodgings, counting on further remuneration, no doubt. He was of Men and that was to be expected. Money seemed to be the only language they understood when it came to dwarves. Thorin grunted at that thought, but before he could think of any other reasons for his dissatisfaction, they arrived at Laketown. It was a pathetic excuse for a town, but it was all they had at the moment.

Bard’s skilled hand directed the barge into the town’s canals, after they were greeted by the city guards. Soon, they arrived at his humble abode. It smelled of fish, too, like everything in the area. When his companions started leaving the boat, Thorin took Enya into his arms. She weighed almost nothing, and he could feel how chilled she was. Glancing at Dwalin’s and Balin’s back, he wrapped his arms snugly around her and held her tight to his chest, trying to give her as much warmth as he could.

“We are almost there. I will make you warm once again, Amrâlimê,” he murmured to her and placed a careful kiss on her much too cool forehead. It was time to leave the boat and the cold finally behind them.

***

Through the cold darkness a light stream of warmth reached her. Slowly her mind woke from the numbed state it was in. Her senses came to life again one after another. She could hear water crashing against wood. Hollow voices and muffled conversations. The smell of fish and wet clothes. She tensed and her fingers grabbed onto familiar fur. The scent of her dwarven king filled her nose as she inhaled again, calming her down. Shuddering she opened her eyes to get a grip of her surroundings. 

The bright light of the flames lighting the room burned in her eyes and hastily she shut them again. Enya opened her mouth and tried to call out for Thorin, but nothing but a hoarse crackling sound came out. Her mouth and throat felt dry, almost cracked. 

Her head felt like bursting and her whole body was stiff. Her fingers eased their grip a bit and stiffly she turned her head away from the bright flames. Slowly she first opened one eye, then the other. Only inches away from her face lay Thorin's resting face. In the back she could spot Dwalin, Balin, Fili and Kili. Their backs towards her, they were discussing something in hushed voices. 

She cleared her throat to win their attention. Smiling, she acknowledged the king's arm protectively wrapped around her waist. The other one functioned as a pillow for her head. His mantle as a blanket over both of them. 

With her free hand she lightly brushed a wild strand of his hair out of his face. It may have been her imagination, but he looked more at ease now. Separating herself from Thorin was no easy matter, not without waking him that is. He needed his sleep. 

She could already feel the dragon's presence from inside the mountain. Thorin would need all the strengths he could gather. 

The others still hadn’t realized that she had woken up, so she made it her challenge to sneak over and scare them a bit. 

The pleasant warmth under his palm was gone. Gone was the soft weight on his arm. Thorin opened one eye. She was gone. He rose quickly, shrugging his cloak from his shoulders, and looked around, seeing only dwarves. Bombur was snoring loudly while Bifur sat by the window, carving something of a piece of wood and Bofur was busy mending his hat. Enya was nowhere to be seen. His muscles stiffened. The last thing he remembered was making sure she was dry and warm and laying down next to her, sharing his body heat with her, not concerned about what the others might think. She was more important. His Fairy had been so very cold by that point, he could barely restrain his mind from expecting the worst. When he closed his eyes, the sun was still in the sky, now it was completely dark outside, late evening, but he felt unusually rested.

“Dwalin,” he stepped towards his cousin, wanting to demand answers. Balin’s brother was supposed to keep an eye at everyone.

Someone shouted behind him. No, not shouted. Squealed. In a very non-warrior-like way. Thorin’s gaze followed the sound. It came from the shadows in the corner beside the fireplace. Gloin jumped up as if he’d seen a ghost in that dark corner, his face terrified and white as sheet.

A wave of giggles filled the room. Thorin closed his eyes and smiled. He would recognize this laughter everywhere.

“Enya,” he could see her golden eyes shining in the firelight, her ruffled copper curls and a mischievous smile on her lips. Her cheeks weren’t pale any longer, a pink blush splashed on them. The Dwarven King sighed with relief, tension leaving his body.

She sniggered again, winking at him, and then the dwarven chuckling joined in.

“Gloin, did our wee lassie scare you that much?” Bofur rolled among the furs with laughter.

“Aye, I was more scared than before any battle!” Gloin responded, still trying to catch a breath, his lips twitching.

“Brave Gloin bested by our girl!” Balin smiled at her. “And we thought you were still sleeping.”

“Way to go, Enya!” Kili shouted while Fili tried to stifle his laughter.

“How did you manage to sneak up on him? Can you teach me?” asked Ori shyly. 

Enya giggled again when she saw Gloins face from the front. He must have been quite spooked when she lay her hands over his eyes from behind. 

“I am wide awake now!” she boasted while the energy flooded through her veins. 

Gandalf would have known what it was that had put her to sleep. She suspected the cold, she never liked it. All that water too. Who in their right mind had so much water near their homes? Her nose twitched slightly. Was that the smell of roasted fish coming from downstairs?

“Is that food I smell?” she grinned at Thorin as she closed the distance between him and her. 

There was still a trace of worry in his eyes, so she gave it her all to erase it completely. She looked around the room and realised that all of them, though smiling, still had the worried gleam in their eyes. 

“I am fine, really. It couldn’t have been all that long that I was sleeping, right?” she gave them her brightest smile to lighten the mood even further.

The fire crackled into the silence as suddenly the door was opened and a young girl entered, a tray with cups, mugs and plated full of food in her hands.

“Food! At last!” Bofur shouted and jumped to the door. “Good evenin’, my lady,” he made a low bow. “What are these delicacies we are to feast on tonight?” he gave her one of his most charming smiles.

The girl reddened and mumbled, “F-fish, Master D-dwarf, sir,” quickly left the food on the table and escaped the room as if a band of orcs was about to chase her.

“Look! Bofur knows how to scare people too!” Gloin exclaimed and laughter boomed around them again. Everyone was hungry, so their merriment quickly subsided, giving way to loud munching and appreciative grunts. 

The fish didn’t smell too good, but at least it tasted deliciously. Thorin made sure that Enya received a solid dwarven share of food and now he was observing her eating, warmth spilling in his chest.

Her plate seemed to never get empty, so much food was given to her by the company, but she didn’t complain. They did this because they cared for her and she was so hungry, she could have eaten a whole cow. Satisfied she leaned against Thorin. 

“Was it enough for you? I can always fight Bombur for another fish for you, if you wish,” he murmured to her with a smile.

***

It was dawn when Thorin woke up. Enya was still sleeping beside him, curled up to his side like a small kitten. He covered her thoroughly with his cloak and stood up. Everyone else was asleep as well, dwarven snoring was the only sound he heard. The first rays of the sun shone into the room invitingly. He took a few steps towards the window and leaned against the wall beside it, admiring the view. Erebor. The sharp, dark silhouette of the mountain was clearly visible against the backdrop of a light sky. His lost kingdom. Home to his people, before the vile slug came, bringing desolation with him. All those years… and now, he was finally back here and he was ready to do whatever needed to be done, no matter how dangerous it would be.

He recalled the ancient saying: Khuzd kalm zud id-dûm, ma dûm kalm ikh-khuzd.*

Now it was his time to honor the crown and reclaim his homeland. He hoped he was worthy of this challenge.

Just then, seemingly out of nowhere, a pair of hands appeared, hugging him tight from behind.

“Enya,” he whispered softly, turning to her. “You should be resting.”

“No, aroha. You should.” she retorted. 

“I have rested more than enough. There is a long day ahead of us,” he replied, reaching out slowly and tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her pointy ear. How could he say that he worried for her, wondered what would happen to her if he wouldn’t return from the mountain? An overwhelming urge to keep her safe filled his body. He had to say it to her, there was no other way.

“It is my wish that you stayed in Laketown. You will be safe here, away from the dragon and its deadly fire.”

“No!” determined she grabs his face with both hands, “I will not hide from danger, nor will I stay behind while you fight, risking your life.” Enya forced his face down and in front of hers to look him deep in the eyes. “I am also a part of your company, a part of your family, am I not?”

Thorin’s eyes rested on her and his hand covered hers. “You know the answer to this question, Enya. That is why I need to keep you safe. You are not a warrior. Let me protect you.”

“We both know that I am safest by your side. Do you really think that anyone else could protect me as good as you? Would you not constantly worry when you leave me behind?” her voice got louder with each word, “I will follow you if you want to or not! And I will be damned if you ever suggest to leave me again,” her voice was determined and her eyes locked onto his when she pulled him closer to rub her nose against his.

One look into those captivating pools of molten gold and he knew he couldn’t say ‘no’ to her.

Chapter Text

Thorin recalled the way Enya’s body felt against his when his arms encircled hers and they pressed their foreheads against each other. He remembered the rich golden depths of his Amrâlimê’s eyes and the bright swirls that sparked in them. They sparked the same way when she looked at him the last time before she went into the mountain together with Bilbo. They were supposed to reach the treasure chamber and see what awaited them there. 

Now, standing there alone, his stomach in a knot with worry, Thorin couldn’t fathom how he could allow her to go into the mountain without any protection. He just remembered looking into these enchanting pools of molten gold and then her small hand slipped out of his, as she disappeared in the bowels of the Lonely Mountain.

Balin walked out of the dark passage and shook his head, his expression solemn.

“I’m sorry, Thorin, there is no trace of…” he started when everyone heard a loud pitter-patter of bare feet against the stone floors.

“DRAGON! A big one! Teeth! Claws! Gold, lots of it!” Bilbo ran out from the passage, almost losing his balance. Luckily, Dwalin’s arm was there to stabilize him. 

“Calm down, laddie, and tell us everything from the start,” the large warrior said.

“I told you everything!” the little hobbit panted, trying to catch his breath. “Down there, in the treasure chamber, just like you said. Big. Gigantic. Huge. Gargantuan. Monstrous. DRAGON! With wings, and tail, and scales, and fangs! And he wanted to eat me!”

“Where is Enya?” Thorin tried to keep his voice calm, clenching his fist and feeling his nails digging into the skin of his hand. “Why is she not with you?”  

“She…” confused, Bilbo frowned and looked back into the dark passage, as if waiting for her to appear. “She was just right behind me…” 

Thorin growled, fury uncoiling in his chest. His Fairy, so delicate and fragile, was still inside the Mountain, and the vile slug was there as well. He had to rescue her before it was too late.

***

How dare he take what belonged to her love? How dare he threaten Thorin in front of her? How dare he laugh at her as she stepped out of the shadows and call her a petty thief? 

“YOU will be the one burning, worm!” she shouted in the ancient language of her kin. 

While changing her form, her voice became a roar. Her whole body covered in golden scales, a long tail with a sharp arrow-like point at the end and large wings, she towered over ‘Smaug the Terrible’. More like ‘Smaug the Little’. She was larger than him in her dragon form.

She smiled down at him, her sharp teeth dangerously shining in the low light. Her eyes emitted a golden glow. Her gaze on her prey, her tail wagging like a cat shortly before jumping at the prey. 

Smaug did something unexpected as he turned around and ran out of the treasury, out of the mountain and flew high up in the sky. What was he planning?

It hit her like thunder when she heard his deep laughter, the scared shriek of the little hobbit and the chaotic shouting of the dwarrows. He wanted to end the line of Durin. He wanted to hurt her aroha . 

Roaring she followed him outside, ramming her head into his side and burying her teeth deep into the soft flesh of his flank. She tasted blood, but that was only a reason to bite even harder. 

*** 

“I thought you said that there was only one dragon, laddie,” the pale-faced Balin turned to Bilbo as soon as he returned to his senses. 

“There was one…” Bilbo muttered faintly.

A thought appeared in Thorin’s mind that this was at least the second, or even a third time when the hobbit fainted during the last leg of their trip. He felt pride, recalling that Enya hadn’t fainted not even once during the whole journey. Perhaps Master Baggins was the most fragile member of their company, after all.

Chaotic thoughts like this one ran through his mind as he held his weapon in his hand. He was about to descend into the Mountain, his home, and find his Fairy, when two extremely loud and terrifyingly large projectiles shot out of the mountain through the Front Gate. They had wings, and tails, and scales, and fangs - exactly like the poor burglar had described.

Thorin recognized Smaug at once, his red scales glistening in the moonlight. The other dragon was visibly larger and swifter, gracefully swirling through the air and fiercely attacking its opponent. And it was…

“Golden. A golden dragon, as I live and breathe!” Dwalin exclaimed. “I always thought they were only a fairy tale!”

“Apparently not,” Thorin replied, focusing on the battle in the sky in bafflement. Tails swooshed through the air, huge wings moved back and forth, sharp teeth and claws clashed in fury. 

“I wonder how much its scales would be worth in gold,” Nori mused, ignoring Dori’s scolding glare.

At that moment, Smaug took in a deep breath, his chest puffed up and Thorin knew what was about to happen. It was a firebreather, after all. The Dwarven King still remembered the devastation his flames had caused over 100 years ago in the exact same place.

“Hide!” Thorin warned his companions, but before they lunged into a hideout, the red-scaled beast howled in pain. Golden claws pierced his wing, razor sharp teeth dug into his neck. The golden dragon was now on top of him, biting into him fiercely. Smaug’s belly glowed red for a blink of an eye, and then he bellowed, and clouds of dark, almost black smoke started coming out of his nostrils. One quick movement of the golden jaws and the red dragon’s head fell limply down, the rest of his bulk followed, his wings shattered, no smoke coming out of his nostrils any longer. Smaug’s limp body was descending down, gaining speed, only to disappear in the waters of the lake with an enormous splash. Only the golden dragon remained. The beast proudly glid against the backdrop of the starry sky, trumpeting its victory to the whole world.

***

After she had slain the other dragon, Enya roared out her triumph. This was now her territory and no other dragon or beast shall ever set foot in it again. She could see the company on the side of the mountain like small ants. They were frightened, obviously. 

Her heart skipped a beat. Would they even accept her back? Would Thorin accept her back? After all, it was a dragon who took everything from him. His home, his family, his hope. 

In a steep dive she flew back into the mountain. Inside the treasury she tried shifting into her previous form again. It was of no use. Her dragon side was persistent. The best she could manage was her human form with horns, her tail and some scales remained scattered over her body.

Her clothes were tattered and ripped, so she searched around the hoard for something usable. There was a blue, long dress, which was a bit wide, but usable. 

Echoing through the halls ,she could hear heavy footsteps and the voices of her dwarrows. Hiding in the shadow of a large pillar she waited for their arrival.

***

The narrow corridor led Thorin towards the main halls of Erebor. The walls glittered with gold veins, casting an eerie light on his surroundings. Silence reigned in the dwarven kingdom in place of music, cheerful chatter and sounds of everyday life. 

He was finally home and he would do everything he could for song and laughter to once again be heard within these walls. His people would soon return to the Lonely Mountain and start their lives anew.

Now however, there was something else on his mind, or, to be more precise, someone. Enya. She had to be somewhere there, hiding in the shadows, away from danger. From what Master Baggins said, he surmised that she must have found a hideout just after the hobbit aggravated the dragon. 

The Dwarven King directed his steps towards the treasure chamber. Perhaps his Fairy was there still, not daring to go out. Perhaps now she trembled in fear, seeing the golden dragon after it returned into the Mountain. He only hoped that she was well. Thorin growled. She had to be well. He forbade himself to think otherwise. He would find her, and take her into his arms, hold her close, and protect her from harm.

Finally, he reached the entrance to his grandfather’s treasure chamber, holding firmly a makeshift mace in his hand, one of the few available weapons in Laketown. He wished he still had Orcrist with him… Thorin shook his head. No matter. 

This chamber before him held inexhaustible riches, including the most excellent dwarven weapons and pieces of armor. And the gold.. the precious gems… the jewels… he took a step forward. And another. There was no dragon there. Smaug, that filthy serpent, had had his lair here, but no longer. If the golden dragon would try to come there as well, Thorin would make him pay for all the transgressions these cursed reptiles committed here. 

He growled again and looked at the endless sea of gold that surrounded him. It was hard to recall how he found himself in the middle of these piles of treasures. Hard to recall how long he was standing there, admiring the abundance of it all. The gold glittered. Danced in front of its eyes. Lured him with its sheen. The precious gems sang an alluring song of opulence and legendary wealth. It was all his. He laughed a deep, menacing laugh. All of it. Only his and his alone. And then he recalled his grandfather’s words, only the one who holds the Arkenstone is the true King of Erebor. The Arkenstone. His quest was not finished yet.

Something buzzed in his mind, a thought, like a pesky fly. There was something he ought to remember. Someone. Thorin shook his head, his arms submerged in the sea of gold, frantically searching. The Arkenstone was all that mattered now.

Enya quietly watched her dwarrows from the shadows. Thorin was different. Distant and constantly angry. He was not like before. Not since he had entered the treasury. 

Without rest or even the slightest hint of exhaustion he searched the treasury. Not for her, sadly. Something named ‘Arkenstone’ possessed his whole mind. 

The others came less and less to visit him and talk some sense into his stubborn head. Dwalin was the last one she saw for a very long time. Maybe now it was time to come out? To overcome her fear. There couldn’t possibly be anything worse than watching her love go crazy without even having tried anything.

From the shadows she addressed him, “Thorin?”

He froze. That voice. He knew it from somewhere. Or maybe he didn’t. He wasn’t sure. He looked around, but there was no one there. The Arkenstone had to be somewhere here. His treasure, the greatest treasure of them all.

“Thorin, can you hear me? It’s me, Enya.” She tried again, tears rolling down her face. She shouldn't have waited this long and let her fear hold her back.

What if everything was too late now? What if he had already lost himself in the madness? A small sob escaped her mouth.

“Who is it?” he barked angrily. Who dared to interrupt him at such an important time? Couldn't they see he was busy? 

“Kili, is that you? Come down here and help me at once!” he growled, but only echo responded to him. His eyes rested on a large chest standing by a pilar, in the shadows. Yes, the Arkenstone had to be there. Just then, he heard a noise.

She took a step forward and a small portion of coins and gems rolled down the mountain of treasures, echoing in the large halls. Her heart stopped a beat and in panic she jumped back behind the pillar and into the shadows. Had he seen her? Had he seen what she looked like now? She froze in her movement as she heard footsteps coming closer.

“Show yourself, intruder!” he exclaimed, grabbing a ruby encrusted sword that lay nearby. He was sure he saw a movement in the corner of his eye. He took a few careful steps towards the pillar. Something glinted in the shadows. Something golden and… beautiful.

Too late Enya realized that a ray of sunlight shone on her shoulder. Exactly the part where some of her golden scales were still fully visible on her skin. Before she could crawl deeper into the shadows, he was already standing in front of her. Staring.

“Thorin. I… I can explain,” she whispered, not sure if he would hear it. 

Her! What was she doing here? This tiny creature with eyes like molten gold. He knew her and yet he didn’t. Was it truly her? There was a faint but familiar smell of flowers in the air.

“Who are you?” he snarled, pointing his sword at her, only then noticing that his hand was shaking. A cold shiver ran down his spine. He recognized the soft fiery curls that surrounded her face, but something was not right. The curved golden horns. The scales on her cheeks, neck and arms, the golden sheen on her skin and then, there was something behind her, something pointy enveloped in the folds of her dress.

A tail.

“Speak!” he recoiled in terror. “Who are you and what have you done to… to…” the name. He couldn’t recall the name. Her name.

“Thorin,” she pleaded, “It is me, Enya! Please try to remember. The crown I made you, look. You still have some flowers in your pouch. And my gems, my treasure. I gave them to you as a sign that I am interested in you. Please Thorin, please remember!”

The crown. The only crown he could think of was his raven crown that now rested on his head. He felt its cold weight on his temples even though he couldn’t recall how he found it. And then his treacherous hand wandered towards the pouch that hung at his belt. The forest. Flowers. Her silver laughter. Warmth in his chest. Enya. Yes. Enya. The sword fell out of his hand. He looked at it in confusion as it lay at his feet, and then his gaze rested on her again. There was something different about her now. He was supposed to remember… something important. The dragon, there was something about the dragon… Trying to grasp at the elusive strands of memory, he looked around, and then he noticed it. Buried under a pile of golden coins. He retrieved it in a blink of an eye.

Finally. The Arkenstone. The great gem shone with an eerie light. His birthright. He was the true king now. 

“Look! This is the only gem I desire! All mine! I am the King Under the Mountain!” he laughed with triumph, his words echoed in the cavern.

Enya stared at her dwarf, her king, her one. With a determined look she stood up and stepped into the light. Her tail was slowly gliding over the coins. The scales all over her body gleamed in a golden glow, while the horns on her forehead drew scary shadows on the walls. 

“Aroha,” she said in a hard tone, “You seem to have forgotten, but I will no longer plead and cry. If you want me gone, want me to leave this place forever, you just have to say the word. Maybe I will go to Dwalin. He seems stronger than you. You are weak, you have fallen for this measly amount of gold and trinkets. You are not able to protect me. You are not even able to look at me and accept me for who I am.” Each word pierced her heart and she fought to keep her voice composed.

“I…” he muttered hoarsely. His eyes wandered to the Arkenstone in his hand. There was a pang of pain in his chest. Dwalin… that name, he knew it. Her words didn’t make sense to his muddled mind, but they filled him with cold fury, puzzling him greatly. It was as if his body grasped a meaning that escaped him.  “I… am… the King!”

“I love you, I do. For me it doesn’t matter if you are a king or a simple blacksmith. I know that this is not the true you, but finding your way back is up to you,” She stepped closer in a quick motion, too quick to be labeled human. 

“You…?” He closed his eyes. Love. Pure, unbounded. Thorin’s body filled with warmth. When his eyelids fluttered open, she stood right in front of him, the golden pools of her eyes filled with tenderness and hope. Those emotions… Another pang of pain pierced his chest. 

There was a large, ornate mirror facing him that rested against a pillar behind her. The fiery creature. He glimpsed into it only to meet his reflection. His eyes widened. His crown. King Thror’s crown. His cloak. His grandfather’s cloak adorned with gold. The Arkenstone in his grandfather’s hand. No, it was his hand. Only his. He was the one to forge his own fate, no one else.

“I am not my grandfather.”

The Arkenstone fell to the ground with a clunk. Thorin looked at his empty hands and then at her. The tiny golden creature still stood there, still watching him intently. And she would have him, just him, not anyone else, unconditionally.

Bilbo had once explained something to her. Something Thorin did not want her to ask anyone of the other dwarrows. Something she was curious about. Kissing. The hobbit had told her why and how the races of Arda kissed. 

And so she did. She kissed the King Under the Mountain. Putting all her love and hope, her sorrow and longing into this kiss. Together with the silent prayer that he may find his way back to her.

Her lips were soft like flower petals and warm as a summer breeze. A rush of memories filled his head, clearing his mind from the dark, treacherous haze. Enya! The forest, her bright smile, the quest, her embraces, his companions, her affectionate touch, the Mountain, the dragons clashing under the night sky, everything came back to him at once.

“Amrâlimê,” he whispered under his breath, pulling her close to him, realizing with unwavering clarity that he finally found home, not only for his people, but also for his heart. Erebor. Enya. The sparks in her eyes, the feeling of her hands at the nape of his neck. He swirled her around him, her dress flowing in the air.

“My love. My Dragon Fairy,” he whispered, peppering her face with a myriad of kisses. Silver laughter rang in the air, bringing hope to his heart.

He was home.

~~ THE END ~~