Elvenking and his host of foot soldiers marched into the streets of Dale in the early morning hours. A solemn air had come upon the journey, but Thranduil had stopped at seeing the small figure that was curled into itself, yet he knew it was the fairy without even seeing her fair face. She was fading, and despite their previously shared words, a millennium of friendship between the two would not be forgotten so easily. The Elvenking himself slipped from his elk and knelt next to the fairy, taking her into his arms like a small child, he rested his hand on her forehead. "Anno laug." The old magic was a thing he had not used in centuries but as soon as the words were whispered a pink hue returned to her cheeks.

The sun kissed her face and a pair of arms lifted her from the ground. "Lady Arethusa." It took several long seconds for her eyes to adjust and see the silver hair and ice blue eyes that belonged to the Elvenking. He wore armor, a tarnished silver circlet on his head.

"Thranduil." Her voice was meek as the Elvenking lifted her onto the back of his elk, Brethildor. Agarwaenor, an elf she remembered well from the Second Age, brought forth her blade and the silver and gold coronet Oropher had gifted her. She took both items gratefully as Thranduil looked over her face and arms for injury. "What is your purpose here?" Arethusa finally managed to ask, her voice was rough from the cold night.

"To reclaim that which is mine." She knew he spoke of the White Gems of Lasgalen and the necklace that had been forged by the dwarves. It was to be a gift for Ithilwen, a gift that she would never live to see. She lowered her head at the thought of her dear friend. Thranduil mounted the elk behind the fairy. "Why are you not with the dwarf?" With the way the fairy shied away from the question Thranduil almost wished he had never asked.

"The sickness has claimed him." The despair that consumed her voice was one that was unbecoming for a creature such a fairy. Yet from that statement alone Thranduil knew that she had come to love him and he would not wish the pain of losing the one you love most to anyone, especially Arethusa with all that she had endured over the years. "It is good to see you, enwina meldo." She looked back at him with a smile, genuine, yet something had taken its toll on her and she looked weary.

Her violet eyes had dulled, a section of her hair, no more than an inch wide, had turned from ashen brown to a bleached white and her skin seemed all the more pallor. Wagons of supplies entered the city ahead of them, bringing food, water, and wine. The cloths and bandages that had been brought were no longer needed, yet appreciated all the same. The elven army parted from their position in the streets, making way for the Elvenking and supplies. Bard watched on as his people celebrated and began unloading the wagons with cries of thanks. It was then he turned to Thranduil and Arethusa.

The Elvenking eased her off of the elk with a curt nod before returning his attention to Bard. She wandered through the ruined streets and the people smiled as she passed, children ran and greeted her, if only to say they had met a real princess. The foot soldiers of Mirkwood filled many of the allies, their golden armor gleaming in the sun. She looked for Legolas, Tauriel even, but found neither.

As the sun warmed the frigid air, the fairy returned to the market. Arethusa stepped up behind the bargeman, her hand came to rest on his arm as he readied the white steed that Thranduil had allowed him to use. "Allow me to come with you, Bard." Her smile, though forced, was sincere.

"Yes, of course. He may choose his words more carefully if you are present." The hopeful rue in his voice caused the fairy to look away. If only, her mind bit back, knowing that Thorin Oakenshield would not treat with the bargeman now in his state of madness. Bard placed the small fairy on the saddle and swung himself up to sit in front of her.

Large horses had always frightened her to a degree, she preferred the comfort of a pony or even Thranduil's elk as the creature was so well behaved. Her fear was rekindled as the parted from Dale and trotted towards the gates of the Lonely Mountain. She felt as if she would fall only to be trampled so Arethusa was left to cling to the back of Bard's worn coat, her hands fisted into the material.

The ramparts had been speedily built and even in the shambolic state, the mountain was formidable. The dwarves were standing at the top and for a brief moment her eyes met Thorin's but he looked distant and there was nothing in his expression that told her he was glad to see her. "Hail Thorin, son of Thrain! We are glad to find you alive beyond hope."

The conversation between the two was lost to Arethusa when a sharp pain filled her head, it was all she could do not to scream. "Azog draga orod, nara hadhodrim. Im pol matha coth. Dúath tol." It was Gandalf's voice that spoke to her, the wizard was growing faint.

"Mi vandhir, Mithrandir?" She spoke back to him, yet there was no reply or other warnings that need be said. Fear had captured her heart, Orcs were marching upon the Lonely Mountain. "Mithrandir?" Arethusa unknowingly tightened the grip she had on Bard's coat, he tensed, nearly forgetting that she was present.

"My lord - we have not come to rob you, but to seek fair settlement. Will you not speak with me?" Thorin tilted his head in a manner that told the bargeman he was open to negotiations. The dwarves disappeared from the ramparts and Bard slipped from the back of the horse, helping the fairy down as well, though she did not follow him. The fairy slipped from the back of the tall horse and paced, her brows furrowed in a deep concentration as she tried to reach out for Gandalf, instead, all she received was broken pieces of Black Speech that were difficult to string together a meaning.

"Áva sorya, melda heri." The sweet voice took her by surprise, the Lady of Light was speaking to her. In all Arethusa's years, Galadriel had only ever communicated with her in this method a handful of times, yet the simple reply was all she needed to hear. Her dark thoughts lifted like a fog as Bard turned away and stormed past the fairy. She gave a subtle nod, her eyes speaking words of sympathy. The fairy stepped up to the ramparts while Bard fled back to Dale. "Arethusa?" Thorin looked back through the opening of the wall, disbelief was written over his features. Arethusa pushed down her anger and leaned against the stone, her eyes downcast. "Quick! Throw a rope over, bring her up."

The rope that had been tossed over the stone wall was held tightly by Dwalin. Arethusa wrapped the rope around her boot and tied it in a loose knot before taking the rough material in her hands. She was lighter than a feather, even Bilbo could have hauled her to the top. The bear of a dwarf, leaned forward, extending his hand to the fairy before pulling her over the edge and to the broken stone on which they stood.

Thorin was waiting at the base of the stairs that had been carved out, the tension in his face was fading at the sight of the fairy. He first noticed that she looked worn, exhausted. Her skin was paler, her eyes not as bright. A silver and golden circlet with polished onyx sat upon her head. Arethusa held Kili and Fili's gaze for a moment, they were smiling at her. She knew why, for now, the sickness had released Thorin, even if it was for a short second. "What has happened?"

Her brows settled into deep confusion as she turned to hold Thorin's gaze. "What do you mean?" The other dwarves turned, leaving the open area completely, but the two hardly took notice of the silence. Thorin lifted the patch of hair that had been drained of color, it hung limply, whiter than the first snow of winter. "Your hair." The fairy tried to hide her shock, her heart clenched at the sight. I am fading, after all these years, I am fading.

"Oh. A tell for another time." Arethusa jumped at the sound of stone crashing and breaking. She peered through the open cracks in the loose wall to see that the head of one of the stone guardians of the mountain had been dislodged by the hands of the company, the bridge that spanned the moat had fallen away. The fairy was surrounded by the dwarves she had come to love yet in the isolation she felt terrifyingly alone.

The sun had reached its peak in the sky and was steadily dwindling, the company had spent the hours after the failed negotiation between Thorin and Bard in the armory, preparing weapons and scrounging to armor that had not been damaged. By the beginning of the sunset the dwarf king had pulled Arethusa away from the others and into the treasure room, it was the last place in the entire mountain she wished to be. Neither of them spoke at first, but she could not stand it any longer. "Thorin, you cannot do this." Her voice was docile yet she challenged him in a way that only a well-spoken queen could.

"You would have me give that which is rightfully mine-," she shook her head and stepped closer to Thorin, her hands found his, "No, I would have you talk through this in an affable manner. I would have you avoid war."

The dwarf king shook his head with adamant stubbornness. "I cannot do that."

The fairy somehow managed to smile and frown at the same time, had Thorin been himself the look would have been enough to break him, "I know." For the first time, her tone was utterly defeated, darkness had consumed the last shreds of hope that she could muster.

"But you came back." Thorin had seemingly spoken his thoughts aloud, his hand caressed her cool cheek with the gentleness she had come to expect from the dwarf king. Arethusa leaned into his touch, she could not deny her heart and what it wanted. When you find the place that your heart belongs you'll never leave, her mother's words echoed in her head. "And you will stay with me?"

Arethusa pulled his hand from her face but still held onto it tightly, "I will stand by your side to the end of my days, Thorin." Her violet eyes were distant, the brilliant color muted by dark and troubling thoughts.

"Do not worry yourself, Arethusa, come tomorrow evening the battle will be over." Yes, but what are the odds that we shall live to see it? Thinking it best if she rejoined the others, the fairy stepped forward and placed a gentle kiss on Thorin's brow.

Most of the company had settled down for the night, Arethusa had avoided Thorin with expertise after their conversation, choosing solitude over his company. The sun was setting and the interior of the mountain only grew darker, streams of light could make it through the wall but the only light came from burning braziers and torches. The fairy went to the hobbit, pulling him away for only a moment. "Bilbo, you must listen to me carefully. Come morn, Thranduil will march upon the mountain and break down the ramparts if he must to reclaim the white gems. You have the greatest leverage over this. Go to Dale tonight, offer the Arkenstone to Thranduil and Bard and do not come back. I fear what Thorin may do if he suspects you."

Bilbo looked at the fairy in shock as he processed the words she spoke, "What about you?" The thought of losing such a dear friend was something the hobbit did not wish to dwell on.

"I can handle him myself." Bilbo looked down, a small smile playing on his lips whilst his nose twitched. The pair continued their stroll until they came to the gates where all but Thorin had gathered. Weapons and tools lie strung about, heavy pieces of armor too. Bilbo sat next to Balin and Arethusa took a seat between Fili and Ori. She looked around at the grim faces of the company, they all seemed pained, at unease with the events taking place.

The wind howled past the ramparts, blowing in wisps of snow. The mountain was cold in more ways than temperature alone. Arethusa pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders. Kili looked around his brother and to the fairy, "Will you sing for us?" She was surprised he remembered her voice from his fevered and sickened state. The company all turned their gaze to her, expectant, needing to hear something, anything to keep the darkness at bay. Dwalin was even looking at her as if she were someone sent to lead them in troubling times.

Arethusa took a deep breath and looked up at the stone ceiling and around the dwarves who had become family when she sang no one could doubt that in the end, everything would be okay.

"Shadows fall and hope has fled,

Steel your heart, the dawn will come.

The night is long and the path is dark.

Look to the sky for one day soon,

The dawn will come."

Anno laug (Sindarin): Give warmth.

Enwina meldo (Quenya): Old friend.

Azog draga orod, nara hadhodrim. Im pol matha coth. Dúath tôl. (Sindarin): Azog is marching on the mountain, warn the dwarves. I can feel evil. Darkness is coming.

Mi vandhir, Mithrandir (Sindarin): Where are you, Gandalf?

Áva sorya, melda heri. (Quenya): Fear not, beloved lady.

A/N: I ask that you forgive any mistakes with my Elvish and Khuzdul, I'm not completely familiar with grammar rules for these languages, but please feel free to point out errors if you see any! Also, I am using both Sindarin and Quenya because on Númenórë they would have spoken Quenya and while Thranduil is one of the Sindar from Doriath, it is my personal headcanon that he would know the older languages as well given his birth status. Below is a picture of Arethusa's diadem from the Woodland Realm.