Fairy, come take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind, run on the top of the disheveled tide, and dance upon the mountains like a flame.

feast passed painfully slow for Arethusa, she awaited the day she could feast in honor of the Sons of Durin's recovery. She sat amongst the kings and esteemed dwarven warriors. Ravens had already been sent from the rookery with messages to be carried to Ered Luin and other scattered dwarf settlements. Open invitations to return to Erebor and share in the vast wealth, a chance to come back to their rightful home. Bilbo looked at his dear friend with a frown as she spoke eloquently to the two Kings and Dwarf Lords. She could fall into the formalities so easily. The fifth and final course had come to pass and the sound of little fiddles, harps, and clarinets filled the air.

The fairy clapped along, not being able to deny the amusement that came from the sight of dwarves drunkenly stamping along to an off-beat tune. Bofur jumped onto the table and the hall broke out into roars and applause, the dwarves playing their instruments ceased and looked on expectantly. It began with a clap and stomp that caused Bombur's tankard to slosh out half of its contents.

"Blunt the knives, bend the forks

Smash the bottles and burn the corks

Chip the glasses and crack the plates

That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"

Arethusa had remembered her dread when the company had begun singing at Bag End what felt to be years ago, now she smiled and sang along, and to Bilbo's chagrin, ten more voices joined in on the tomfoolery.

"Cut the cloth, tread on the fat

Leave the bones on the bedroom mat

Pour the milk on the pantry floor

Splash the wine on every door!

Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl

Pound them up with a thumping pole

When you're finished, if they are whole

Send them down the hall to roll

That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"

On the second round of the song all but the elves and Bilbo had joined in singing. Upon exclaiming "That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!" Arethusa lifted her mug finding that she was more a dwarf than she could have ever imagined. The hall had settled down, the fiddlers and flutists had begun playing tunes that the fairy tried to create lyrics for but nothing seemed to fit. The celebration continued on until Ori rose on his seat, cheeks aflame from the ale and nervousness. "Sing us a song, Miss Arethusa?" Thranduil looked to the fairy with a raised brow; those that had heard her enchanting voice before chimed in their agreement and the eyes of dwarves, men, and elves alike turned to her expectantly.

Perhaps she had too much to drink and that was why she agreed but even the three mugs of ale had not phased her in the slightest. "Only one song." Her voice sounded exasperated but Ori smiled and returned to his seat, Dori had leaned over and whispered something in the young dwarf's ear that caused his cheeks to turn redder than the tomatoes that had been served with the bread. Arethusa contemplated singing the Song of Durin, or perhaps the song she had heard Thorin sing upon their meeting, but she settled on an old fairy song that her mother had sung to lull her and her brothers to sleep. She hoped she remembered the words and tune. The fairy stood, clasping her hands together before her and found her voice.

"Land of freedom, land of heroes

Land that gave us hope and memories,

Hear our singing, hear our longing

We will go home across the mountains."

Her mother had always said that when the fairies returned to Valinor they would travel across sea and meadows, through forests, and across mountains. She had done all those things, only Valinor was not her home, and now neither was Númenórë. She had made Middle-Earth into her home, from the rolling hills of the Shire to the cragged peaks of the White Mountains and every rock and crevice between. She was home.

"Við vilja fara heim, Við villja fara heim

Við vilja fara heim yfir bærghinn

Við vilja fara heim, Við villja fara heim

Við vilja fara heim yfir bærghinn.

We will go home, we will go home

We will go home across the mountains

We will go home, we will go home

We will go home across the mountains."

A hush fell over the hall and with her song alone the cheerful air that had been created by song and dance seemed to fade. Arethusa took the moment to pick up her skirts and flee from the hall as she feared nothing for the rest of the night could lift her spirits.

Arethusa sat at Thorin's side, his hand within hers. She looked at the dwarf king with a blank expression, or possibly it only appeared blank because of the numerous emotions displayed. Her necklace still hung around his neck, the white jewel was surprisingly dim in comparison to its usual gleam. If not for the thick bandages that encased his chest and the strip of cloth wrapped around his forehead he could have easily been considered asleep. She hadn't exactly known why she came to his room, at the moment, it felt like the place she needed to be. The moon must have been at its peak when Arethusa woke. Her back was stiff from the odd position and her eyes had to take several long moments to adjust to the low light of a dying fire. Before she left his room for her own the fairy tossed a few more coals and pieces of wood onto the fire and kissed his forehead.

The stone room that she had been placed in was empty, devoid of everything that comforted her, a bright red fire burned in the hearth, a magic flame that she could only sustain through concentration. The fairy frowned and turned to the mirror, picking up a golden comb to run through her hair. Everyone had adjusted to the change in her appearance rather quickly, but she couldn't help wondering what Thorin would think now that the strands had been stripped of color.

She had only just came from the wash, a coarse wool tunic scratching at her skin when the company's first healer surged into the room unexpectedly, fumbling around with his hearing trumpet. "Oín? Oín, what is it?" Her heart clenched as she expected to hear terrible news.

"It's Fili! We think he's beginning to wake!" She left in haste, not even the cold stone on her bare feet could slow her, nor the brisk air of mountain's interior on her exposed legs. The Brothers Ri stood outside the door, Balin and Bofur hovered around the bed with the waking dwarf. At Arethusa's presence they stepped back and watched as she laid her palm upon his forehead. "Fili?" Any tension that had been lurking within his body faded at her touch, the pain subsided.

The fairy sighed, a relief coming over her. ""Kili? Kili." At the dry utterance of his brother's name Arethusa glanced at the younger dwarf who laid naught but four feet away, his pale blue eyes darted around in a dazed panic as he tried to sit up. "He's going to be alright, Fili, but you must take care not to reopen your wounds." She pressed her hand to his shoulder, a silent command to lie back down that he heeded without protest. His breathing had grown labored, already he had exerted himself too much without realizing the severity of his state.

"Nori, will you bring food and water?" The dwarf nodded and left in haste with Dori trailing along. She turned to Bofur and Oín, "I'll be needing a fresh bandage." The two swiftly scurried off, risking the wrath of the fairy for not doing as they were asked was a thing they would rather remain a fable from battle. Nearly the entire company had gathered around the beds where Fili and Kili lie. With methodical ease, Arethusa undid the bandages from the dwarf's shoulder and chest. He had healed surprisingly well, and quickly, she doubted she would even need to rebandage it.

Fili looked up at her with an odd expression, the longer he looked into her violet eyes the more certain he became that it was the fairy, yet he had remembered seeing Azog drive his clawed hand into her stomach, he remembered his brother carrying her dying body across the river. The screams of his brother and Thorin still echoed in his head as the memories resurfaced plainly. She had been dead, he was sure of it. "We thought, I thought, you were dead?!"

Arethusa let out a light chuckle and the largest smile the company had been from her in days. "Shh, you'll give yourself a headache with that type of thinking." Fili had begun to laughing, so hard and so loudly he had to clutch his bruised ribs. The dwarf prince sat up and pulled the fairy into his arms, she felt as if the life was going to be squeezed from her, but the laughing died down and the only sign of his sadness was the wet spots from tears that had seeped through her tunic sleeves. "Everything will be alright, Fili, I promise." She worked her fingers through the knotted mass of his blond hair, hardly noticing that on the corner table a tray of food had been placed next to a pile of fresh linens to be used as bandages, the others had left the room, both relieved and saddened.

"Is Uncle Thorin going to make it?" The fairy pulled away from the dwarf and moved to sit at his side.

The penitent smile that formed on her lips was both somehow able to calm the dwarf and spur his concern. "In time." He looked across the room where his brother lay peacefully, a bandage wrapped around his torso and arm, another fastened around his forehead. "And my brother?" Arethusa's eyes followed Fili's to land upon Kili.

"I suspect he will wake in the coming days," his entire expression eased at the admission. Arethusa stood and fetched the tray of food, setting it down in the dwarf's lap, "Here," she spoke softly, claiming a seat bedside. "You will feel better after you have eaten something."

They shared little conversation as it felt like there was nothing to say. When Fili and finished and had nearly fallen asleep again, Arethusa collected the tray and moved to the door when a voice that belonged to a boy and not a prince filled the room. "Will you stay only a few more minutes?"

Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she turned and deposited the tray back to the table, "I will stay the night if it eases your worries and heart, Fili." Fili glanced up at her with a smile as she laid her hand upon his forehead, in the time she had spent with the company she had begun to think of Kili and Fili as her sons. She sat bedside, resting her head on folded arms, for tonight she would keep a watchful eye over the golden prince.

Fili cast a groggy glance to Arethusa, "G'night, Auntie." The phrase struck something inside of her, something that made sadness pool in the depths of her stomach and heart.

⌘⌘⌘

Four days after Fili woke Kili was beginning to wake as well. She hovered over him, the same way she had done to Fili. The company was quick to come to see the young dwarf and for the moment she slipped from the room and ventured to where Thorin still laid. Arethusa had exhausted herself over the past days, she rarely took time to sleep as her time was consumed with making settlements with allies and friends and looming over the three injured dwarves. Now she felt as if a large weight had been lifted from her shoulders knowing that the two brothers would live.

The fairy slipped into Thorin's room, her shoulders falling with the heavy sigh. She walked to the dwarf king and sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers deftly brushing over the healing cut on his forehead and into the matted mass of black and silver hair. "They're safe now, Thorin." She breathed, half wishing the words would bring him back in that very instant but they did not.

Her hand rested on the thick bandage wrapped around Thorin's torso. A warmth flooded her body as she summoned her magic and slowly the energy poured into the dwarf, she didn't know if it could be a boost to allow him to wake sooner or if it would only continue the healing process. If felt as if after many years that age was finally catching up to her. Sighing, Arethusa clumsily climbed onto the bed, she laid her head in the crook of his shoulder and neck never expecting that she would succumb to sleep so quickly.

Arethusa and Fili had just finished a round about the mountain, they had gone to the entrance of the mines and all the way to the rookery. The dwarf had a limp in his step now, she suspected that even her healing would not be able to mend what had been done. The two stood at the main gates, watching as repairs were underway to fix the small causeway and fill in the gaping holes the dragon had left. Ori and Bofur had joined them with a basket of lunch when the wizard came through the broken stone gates, his eyes solely focused on Arethusa. "Gandalf!?" She had thought the wizard had left for a good long while, only to come back when there was something he could meddle in.

"Come, there are things that must be discussed." It had been many years since she had heard the grey wizard use that tone, he was not angry per say, but it was apparent that he had news, grave news.

Arethusa stood, wiping dust and crumbs from her working shift before padding alongside the wizard. "What kind of things?" Usually, Gandalf was secretive, carefully speaking to reveal only that which he wished for one to know. "Fairy things." He responded curtly as they were still within an earshot of the dwarves. They had left the warmth of the mountain for the snow-covered plain that lay before the gates since the night of the great feast it had snowed for three days and in some places she gauged the snow would be three feet deep.

Gandalf turned back the fairy, the gentle soul she knew came back to surface, he knelt before her, yet still, it was not enough for them to see eye to eye, and took her delicate little hands between his own. "I have done a great deal of reading up on fairies since the battle, my dear, and I do hate to be the bearer of such news." She did not like the grim undertone of his voice.

"What is it?" A reply did not come, the wizard's face descended into despair, it was ill-fitting for him. The wind seemed cut through her cloak at knives, a strong gust blew the black hood away from her silver-white hair. "You're frightening me, Mithrandir." The cold wind burned her cheeks in a way that heat never could, she wrapped her arms around herself.

"My dear Arethusa, I have proof enough to believe that you are mortal now." The words did not register at first, they simply passed her by as if some light hearted jab, but the wizard was not joking and the grave expression on his face told her that he was serious.

"What?" Disbelief flashed across her face, then came to confusion; from his robes, he pulled a book, a children's book from the look of it, from Minas Tirith's library. She opened the leather bound cover to find the page that had been marked, there, written in all dialects of elvish and partly in dwarvish runes was a verse on fairies.

The neighboring page was what stole her attention. It displayed her race as most would think, small creatures with wings of all colors and sizes, all fair and careless; but she had never known a fairy with wings so through the years she believed that it was a legend men had created about her race. She often dreamed of what her wings would look like, they would be gossamer and shine all different colors in the light, yet with such beauty, a darkness lingered about them. Her wings were never whole, there were always tears in the thin skin, rips, and slashes. Never were they in the shape of a butter or dragonfly, her wings resembled those of a bat, with long and sinewy veins.

Falling snowflakes clung to her lashes and cheeks, it looked like she had begun crying tears of ice. "When a fairy dies they are granted their wings as a symbol of freedom, they are free to fly from Valinor to Middle Earth and back. During the battle, you died and I think you know that, but your wings were withheld from you. Do you know why?" The twinkle in his eyes had returned.

Arethusa stepped back, searching the barren land for something, anything, but then she remembered her mother's words. "It can't be." Despite the revelation, she turned back to the wizard with a large smile. "It's like the stories of old." The tale of Beren and Lúthien had come to pass once more, she and Thorin had an unmentionable strength in the love that was shared between them, but the smile faded and her eyes darkened. "Gandalf, tell me truly, how many years do you think I have?"

The old wizard smiled and stood back to his full height, bracing himself on the brown-wood staff. "Many more, yes, many more. In a way, you were born again and the blood of Númenórë still flows through your veins. Thorin, however, still remains as he was in health and age."

She took a moment to ponder the words he had spoken, she would live perhaps another 300 years, yet it was probable that Thorin would not live to see another century if he woke. Arethusa looked up at Gandalf, "I would gladly spend one lifetime with him than have to endure the rest of the ages of this world alone." His hand rested on her shoulder as they walked back to the stone gates of the mountain. The buoyancy of a fairy's spirit never ceased to amaze him, even in the wake of such news.

The wizard paused, looking up at the runes that had been carved, the fairy knew he would leave once more, he too was a wanderer. "Can you help me, Gandalf? I can transfer energy to aid in his healing but our souls are already bound, there has to be something you can do to help." Fili came forward with a fur pelt and offered it up to Arethusa as she was still shaking from the cold, she gave the dwarf prince a grateful smile and turned back to Gandalf. The wizard agreed to help her if it was within his powers to do so.