!" The voice that had woke her belonged to Arwen, her blue eyes were clear as the sea that had once surrounded Númenórë. "You worried us all, fael." Arethusa smiled and looked past her friend to a simple gown of deep of green that had been fashioned for her.

She remembered a time when she was larger than both Arwen and her brothers but that time had long passed, Arethusa sat up, pleased to notice that her ribs no longer hurt from doing such a simple action. "It will take more than bruises to stall me, Arwen." They each smiled, the fairy's faded when she noticed a look on the elf's face that only meant one thing. Mischief.

"Ada said that he saw you and the dwarf last night." Her eyes were alight, Arethusa frowned recalling her evening, she had been with Thorin but there were only words exchanged between them. They had come to know each other better, however, that did not constitute much.

The fairy sighed, "We spoke," she affirmed and Arwen's smile only grew wider.

"He seems very fond of you," Arwen seemed to love the prospect of her friend finally meeting someone, the fairy shook her head lightly but the elf was insistent in her intentions. "Truly, Elrohir and Elladan said he was reluctant to leave your side at first." Her visitor began braiding her hair, the ashen brown was not nearly as beautiful as locks that had been spun from silver or gold, or even the dark brown that Elrond and his children had.

She winced when Arwen tugged on the first knot, "You are exaggerating, Arwen." A smooth braid crowned her head when it was finished.

The young elf stood and went to leave but turned, looking back into the room. "Given time, you'll see fael, you'll see." Arethusa rolled her eyes and left the bed, stepping gingerly on her wrapped ankle over to where her dress had been laid out. The sleeves were long and draping, brushing the floor when her hands fell to her sides and the neckline was squared off. From the balcony of her room, she could look out over the valley and almost feel the mist that was carried in the air from the waterfall.

Deciding not to be holed up for the day Arethusa nimbly moved down the stairs and to the library. Lord Elrond was there, reading a book written in an old form of elvish that she could not yet decipher. "Shouldn't you be resting?" The elf lord looked over the top of his open book, she could hear the amusement in his voice.

"In the many years, we have known each other have you ever known me to listen to such advice?" Arethusa skimmed over the many titles in Sindarin and the Common Tongue.

Elrond sat his book down, folding his hands over the cover. "No, but still, you should be resting."

The fairy shrugged, "Perhaps, but can I not rest just as well here with a book in hand than in my room?" She bounced up on the tips of her toes forgetting about her wrapped ankle for the moment when she found a book that retold the creation of dwarves.

Arwen was on the other side of the bookcase, the open slot allowed Arethusa to see that the elf was surrounded with open books on the Dúnedain. The fairy suspected that now Arwen probably knew as much of her home and people as she did from stories and books. "Fael, will you come play the harp for us like when we were younger?" She nodded, only asking for a period of time to reacquaint herself with the instrument again.

"Lady Arethusa," she halted as Elrond spoke her name and turned.

The elf lord had long viewed the fairy as an equal yet she still lowered her head in his presence. "Yes, my lord Elrond?"

His book was open again, "You are welcome to stay here, present and future." She smiled in return, knowing that she had been offered a place in Rivendell many times. For periods she would stay but in reality, she was a wanderer, settling down would never do.

Her thumbs fumbled across the strings, it had been ages since she had played the harp. At a discordant cadence, she frowned and started from the beginning of the song only to strike a wrong chord. It had to have been over three hundred years since she had sat behind the instrument. Disheartened at how rusty she had grown her hands fell to her sides. Arwen would surely be disappointed. "A fairy who cannot play beautiful music? I never thought I'd see such a sight." His voice was teasing, she quite enjoyed this side of him.

"Thorin." She turned to look over her shoulder to see him leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "And I suppose you are a gifted harpist?" She chided in return. The dwarf sat next to her and swung the harp from her hands so it rested on his shoulder. He plucked a single string, it was louder than she could manage but there was strength in his fingers. It was a strange type of paradox to see Thorin playing such a delicate instrument. Arethusa recognized the tune immediately, it was the song they had sung at Bag End, the song she had been singing last night. For a moment she closed her eyes and could almost see Erebor and Dale, she could hear Thorin singing.

When the fairy looked over to the dwarf his eyes were closed and perhaps for the first time since she had seen him, his face was completely at ease. A small smile was even playing at his lips. She was amazed to see how his fingers found the strings and plucked them softly. "I suppose we still have our secrets." Arethusa let her hand fall to rest upon his arm, today he did not wear vambraces nor the thick coat she had seen him in. He wore a rough tunic that had been dyed royal blue, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. "What other talents do you have Thorin Oakenshield?" She mused aloud.

"I think it best if I keep some secrets to myself, Lady Arethusa."

Her violet eyes spoke of unheard amounts of mischief, her smile was peculiar. "Can you dance?" Her hand still rested upon Thorin's arm and mindlessly he placed his hand atop hers barely noticing how small she was in comparison. She was smaller than the Hobbit and only came to his chest.

"Many forget that before we were exiled I was a prince trained in many arts for the day when I would court some dwarf maiden. I can dance but I have not had reason to in a very long time." It felt like so very long ago since he had been trained in the arts of courtship. Odd as it may be he was taught to woo a maiden with song and to dance properly as to not step on her feet. Balin had even tried to teach the young prince how to write poetry. Those lessons had long been forgotten as he traded his harp for a blacksmith's hammer.

The fairy hopped to her feet so quickly it looked like wings sprouted from her back and she flew. "Dance with me then." Her hair was falling from the braid and silvery brown wisps framed her face.

Thorin shook his head, his gaze trailing to the white bandage that could be seen just under the skirt of her dress, "Arethusa, your ankle."

She smiled and twirled around as if to prove her point, "Is not bothering me at the present." Her lie was so prettily spoken that Thorin believed her.

"Only a simple dance, then you must rest." Thorin stood, trailing behind Arethusa to the empty space beyond the harp. His fairy stood tall as she could, remembering a dance that he was taught from long ago the dwarf king bowed before her, holding his hand out. Arethusa placed her hand against his and watched as he folded his fingers over hers. They stood nearly side by side, facing opposite directions but looked at each other as Thorin led. After a moment, they switched hands and she noticed the steps were attuned to the beat of her heart.

He wouldn't tell her that this was a traditional dance to be performed after marriage, he would speak nothing of the likes. Arethusa spun at his urging and came back into his chest, she couldn't look up at him lest risk him seeing the bright red color that had engulfed her cheeks. Her bare feet padded across the stone, her hands rested on his broad shoulders and his on her tiny waist. Thorin stopped moving when he feared that his next step would land atop her foot, the off-balance caused him to stumble back and fall. The fairy laughed at his blunder and seconds later his laughter joined hers.

"Thorin," Balin stood in the doorway, slightly taken aback at the sight before him but smiling nonetheless. "Gandalf and Elrond wish to have word with you." The dwarf stood and half-bowed to Arethusa before taking his leave. Balin watched as his king tread away, his shoulders fell a little, "You are something special, lass."

Arethusa did not know exactly what he had meant or how to respond, she looked at the white-haired dwarf and sighed, "How long will we be here?" She did not look at the eldest dwarf, her gaze remained on Thorin until he was no longer in her sight.

His eyes traveled to the sky where a sliver of the moon was present even in the afternoon sky. "Tomorrow night is when the map can be read. We will part soon after." He began trekking away from the balcony before he turned back. "Lady Arethusa, I do not know what you have heard of Thorin and his kin but this is who he truly is. I fear what is to come when we enter the mountain." In truth, she was afraid too. Not because of what gold and greed could do to a person, but because it appeared to her the events of the quest would set the fate of Middle Earth down a dark path. "I bid you a fair afternoon until supper."

The dwarves had already gathered around, Gandalf and Elrond sat near at a high table with Thorin at their side for the moment as well. Silence crept over the company and everything came to a halt, even the elves playing their flutes and harps had stopped. Curious, Thorin turned. He had seen her already today yet in the evening light she looked as if she were glowing, the purple of the dress she now wore was close to the color of her eyes and next to the fabric her hair looked near silver. Out of impulse, the dwarf stood from his seat as the fairy approached, his throat had gone dry and he feared his voice would be nothing more than a pitiful croak. Arethusa took the seat at Thorin's side, in unison they both seated themselves and the silence ended.

With Arethusa's presence the air surrounding the evening meal was far more enjoyable for the entire company, also the elves had learned their folly the previous day and provided a spit of roasted meat. When Bofur began singing she clapped along to the merry beat and even Thorin in all his staidness stomped along. Night fell and Arethusa found herself sitting on one of the upper decks where benches and chairs were spread out to overlook the courtyard. Below the songs of the dwarves carried into the night. The book in her lap was illuminated by a tiered candelabra, the flames casting soft shadows. "You need not keep your distance, Master Dwarf." She could see the dark outline of Thorin, her tone light, and teasing.

Arethusa stood when he did not come forward and when she saw where his gaze was she understood why. Gandalf and Elrond were deep in conversation but their voices carried plainly. "Do you? That dragon has slept for 60 years. What will happen if your plan should fail, if you wake that beast?" She too had her own doubts about the quest but had yet to mention them, nor would she ever speak of them. Elrond looked pensively at the wizard.

"What if we succeed? If the dwarves take back the mountain, our defenses in the east will be strengthened." That was the silver lining. The fairy frowned at the dark expression that overtook the dwarf's face. He was smiling until he heard the two speaking. "It is also dangerous to do nothing. The throne of Erebor is Thorin's birthright, what is it you fear?" Arethusa carried out the impulsive action her body wished to do.

She placed her hand on Thorin's cheek and for a moment his gaze was drawn back to her. "Have you forgotten? A strain of madness runs deep in that family. His grandfather lost his mind, his father succumbed to the same sickness. Can you swear Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall? Gandalf, these decisions do not rest with us alone. It is not up to you or me to redraw the map of Middle Earth." Elrond's voice had a gravitas to it she had not heard in many years. Thorin's expression was unreadable, he only stood there looking blankly ahead.

"Thorin," her fingers lightly combed through his beard as she stroked his cheek, it was an odd sort of affection that she felt beginning to fester within. Her heart dropped when he turned away from her.

His voice was gruff, "We are departing the morn after next. Do not come unless you can hold your own." The dwarf was leaving her presence then, sulking off but even with the pain in her ankle, she ran after him.

Arethusa gripped onto his arm and swung herself to stand in front of him. "Thorin!" His eyes were burning with an intensity that was near frightening but for the moment he was not trying to pull away from her. "You are not your grandfather, nor are you your father. Your heart is pure and your will strong, if you do not let darkness creep in then there will be nothing to fear. I trust that you will fight not to succumb to such madness." She lowered her eyes and breathed in dejected, expecting him to storm off again.

He didn't leave. Thorin looked down his nose at the fairy and gently lifted her chin so that her violet eyes met his own. "So much faith you have in me," He muttered.

Arethusa slowly pulled his hand away from her chin and clasped it within both of hers. "Is it ill-placed?" She wanted to believe that he was not like so many other kings, from what she had seen thus far he was not akin to the same weaknesses of mortal men.

"I –I don't know," He admitted, voice hoarse. Thorin took his hand back from the fairy but did not leave her as he had done moments prior.

He studied her, her expressions and what else she could have been hiding beneath an angelic face. When her hand brushed over the silver of one of his hair beads he nearly startled, her fingers traced over the etched design and followed the braid that it held in place. "What do they mean?"

He wore two beads that were identical. Others in the company wore many beads in their hair and beards, some, like Kili and Dwalin, wore none. "Every dwarf is presented bead when they come of age, another when they master their trade. There are beads for courting, marriage, and children. Some do not wear beads if they are mourning."

Arethusa twirled one of the beads around, "It's a strange sentiment, isn't it?" Her voice was soft, Thorin nearly could not hear her speak. "What had you come to speak with me of, Thorin Oakenshield?" He placed his hand over her, stopping her from fiddling with the silver bead.

"Nothing of importance." His response was too brusque for her liking.

The fairy shook her head, half amused and half disheartened, "Important or not you should speak it now while you have breath in your breast." Thorin glanced down at where her hand rested on his chest. It was odd to feel his heart tremble beneath her touch.

"The company, they have all grown very fond of you and when Erebor is ours all the jewels and treasure you could desire shall be yours." She knew he was not speaking the entirety of what he wished to say.

Her expression almost became pained, "I have no use for gems and gold, Thorin, I am a wanderer." She lived off the land, never having shelter above her head for more than a month's time.

"You need not be anymore should you wish it." He murmured.

"That is very kind of you." She turned to go back to her book, it seemed that he had spoken all that he was willing to say. After three steps a hand wrapped around her wrist, "Arethusa, wait." And she did, she waited while Thorin ran his hand through his hair and searched her face and then looked the ground. "I fear I have grown fond of you as well."

She pursed her lips and closed her eyes, breathing in a deep breath. "Why fear such a thing?" Fairies were to fear nothing or so the legends of men said. Dwarves from what she had learned had little use for fear also.

Thorin frowned and trailed the back of his hand down her cheek, "Because I fear what I may do to protect you." For a moment, they each stood impeccably still until the fairy wrapped her arms around the dwarf's neck and pressed herself against him. At first, he was stiff and unresponsive but then it faded and he wrapped his fairy in his arms thinking it to be the only way he could hide her from the world. She then realized she had the love of people who do not give their love easily or give it often. With the thought she pressed her face further into to crook of his shoulder, nose half nuzzled into his neck, on one of her cheeks she could feel the tickle of his beard. He smelled of smoke and iron, yet within the musk was something sweet, like a flower.

"What are you doing?" Thorin was pulling one of the beads from the braid, he looked at it thoughtfully for a moment before taking Arethusa's hand and laying it in her palm.

"A token," He stated, folding her fingers to cover the trinket.

The look in her eyes was one of bewilderment, "Of what?" She was almost afraid to ask.

"This journey. Something to remember us all by when our time is called." A tear had escaped her eye and ran down her cheek. She clutched the bead fiercely and leaned her head forward, her forehead rested in the center of his strong chest, her breath caught at the thought of having to say goodbye to the company. Hesitantly, Thorin placed his hand on the small of her back and gave a silent sigh.

He could not hear the first utterance until she lifted her head, her cheeks were flaming with embarrassment as were her pointed ears. "I can't braid." Thorin came close to laughing but he didn't, they went back to the bench where she had been reading and sat. The dwarf reached behind her left ear, gathering enough hair so that the braid would be thick enough for the bead to stay. Shivers erupted over her skin at the feel of his rough fingers. She did not braid her hair, not only because she did not learn, but it had always been her mother who had braided it when she was a child. Since then only Arwen had ever plaited it and even that was a seldom occurrence.

When the braid was done and the bead slipped into place, it fell to her waist. A distinct weight coming from it. Arethusa did not realize the significance of what Thorin had given her, it was likely she never would.