End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path. One that we all must take.

Oakenshield was laid to rest next to the tombs of his forebears with Orcrist and the Arkenstone upon his breast. But there was another jewel as well and it shone brighter than the Heart of the Mountain. None but Arethusa knew the truth of what the gem was ⁠—a Silmaril⁠— more valuable than all the gold and gems in Middle Earth.

Most had gone from the mausoleum but she and Dwalin stood over Thorin in perpetuity, with solemn countenances and no words to speak. Even after Dwalin had left, she remained, staring with a blank expression at the dwarf she had so recklessly given her heart to.

Fili feared that if she stayed any longer she would turn to stone. He pitied the fairy for a moment. She was like a white deer caged, a white bird wing-clipped, a silver ring on an old man's finger. The young king pulled her away from the resting place of his uncle and into his arms. She was so delicate but stronger than anyone could ever know.

"Arethusa, there is nothing here for you. Go. It is what my uncle wished." It felt strange for her to look upon Fili whilst he was dressed as a king. She still saw him as a young dwarf prone to mischief. "You will always be welcome here but do not make this a prison. Be as you once were, a wanderer," he told her.

Of the twelve dwarves who embarked on the quest to reclaim the mountain, only eight remained in Erebor. They had gathered at the gates bearing gifts for her travels. None expected to see her again in their lifetime. Dwalin, Glóin, Dori, Nori, Bifur, Bofur, Kili, Fili, and even Bombur had managed to come to the front gate. Each bestowed upon her gifts and provisions, a dwarvish shield and Thorin's first sword, ample coin, and jewels for trade, food enough for a month, and a pony to bore it all.

"Where will you go?" Kili queried in a tone begging her to stay. It amazed her to see how much the two brothers had grown from the young princes she had met in the Shire half a century ago.

It took several long moments for her to ponder the answer. "The Shire, I think, or maybe Rivendell. I will go wherever the wind takes me and perhaps one day it may bring me back to Erebor." Arethusa set off, looking back at the mountain with great fondness and sadness. She smiled.

The round door was a sight she had not seen in many years, it looked as if a fresh coat of the green paint had recently been applied. He had once said not to bother knocking, but she knocked anyway and listened to the patter of large feet on the wooden surface. "No thank you! We don't want any more visitors, well-wishers, or distant relations!" She merely chuckled, leaning closer to the wooden surface.

"What about old friends, Master Baggins?" The door to the hobbit hole opened wide in greeting. His hair was whiter, his face older, and his stomach larger than the last time she had seen him. She opened her arms to him, and old friends were reunited after years of being apart.

"My dear, Arethusa!" He pulled away from the small woman, hands resting on her shoulders while he was lost in thought for a moment. Remembering his courtesies, the hobbit stepped aside, ushering Arethusa into his home as he had done numerous times before. "Come on, come in. Welcome, welcome." She looked around his home, curious. Recalling that in one of the letters she had received in the mountain he stated that his home had been ransacked as the Shire-folk believed him to be dead.

Everything was in its rightful place, even to the last pinecone that sat near the kitchen hearth as kindling. The pantry was full, a kettle of tea had already been brewing. Her friend scuttled around his home in a frenzy, muttering to himself and at times speaking to her. Arethusa followed him into the sitting room and kitchen, after the years she still could hear their voices singing in the night. Far over the Misty Mountains cold...

She passed into the oak hall, noting the chest that had been buried in the troll hoard, overflowing with gold coins. The sight that ensnared her at the moment was within the drawing room. The image preserved within the wooden frame made her heart twist, as did the runes inscribed on the right.

When she held the frame and map all else faded, even Bilbo. She could picture the broken ramparts, the mounds of gold coin, even the scent of a dragon tickled her nose at the memory. She grew silent, and the hobbit began to worry. "Arethusa?" Bilbo saw what she was holding, saw the tears that came to her eyes, he even saw she wore the key to the mountain on a leather strip around her neck.

"It feels like it's been years." Her voice was meek, small, it fit her petite frame but not her age. She looked up at Bilbo as he came and gently took the map from her shaking hands. He may have aged and despite that his eyes were still bright, longing to see the world once more. He told me to fly so that is what I did.

"Has it really?" Arethusa meant to reply if not for the excited voice that called Bilbo's same from the door. It was Frodo, she only recalled his name from yet another letter that had reached her from Bilbo. He was certainly taller than some and fairer than most, with a cleft in his chin and bright eyes it was easy to see how young he was.

"Arethusa! You've come for the party!" She smiled at the young hobbit when Bilbo nudged her in the side and agreed to stay. Knowing Gandalf would come was half of the reason she stayed. When Frodo ran off once more to meet the wandering wizard on the path to Hobbiton, Arethusa and Bilbo enjoyed their afternoon tea. Then, she told him of Thorin Oakenshield's last years.

"Are you ready, Master Baggins?" Arethusa smiled at her dear friend as he left Bag End with a pack and walking stick. The hobbit was excited for another adventure, even if this time it was only to see Rivendell, he wished to finish his book while there and she could not deny she wished to see Elrond and others once again.

The two walked on foot for a good way until Bilbo began to fall behind from age and exhaustion. Then they mounted the fairy's pony, Sunnie, and were racing through the trees and open plains under the stars and the full moon. Arethusa pressed her heels into the golden pony's sides and pushed harder so that they may arrive before the sunrise.

Elladan and Elrohir were the first to greet the traveling pair even in the early hours of the morn, for elves do not sleep. Bilbo scurried away from the stables to the main buildings of Imladris, yet she lingered with the twins. "You have grown weary," she could not be sure which one of them had made the statement but she did not try denying the truth of it.

"I fear my time here is coming to an end." Arethusa allowed the two elves to sweep her off her feet and into a crushing type of hug that all other elves would have frowned upon. Elrond welcomed her as an old friend and spoke wise words that she took to heart in regards to her time in Middle Earth. He spoke fondly of her kind acts of healing and patience. Of when she remained in Rivendell to help with his children. Of the pieces of her heart that loved music and poems, and adventures.

The years passed by quickly, a grand council was held and for hardly a week she was reunited with two old friends. Legolas and Glóin were present, as well as Gimli, who was a dwarf grown in his own right. Aragorn had come as well, a man now, and no longer the small child that used to run about Rivendell under the name of Estel. Then there was Boromir, a man of Gondor who in character and actions reminded her so much of Thorin her heart ached and tried to fool her. To the four hobbits who were setting off, she wished them best and that the reality of the world would not spoil their childish and optimistic outlook.

The fellowship set off on a grievous quest. She would not know the outcome until she rode at Elrond and Arwen's side to Minas Tirith for the coronation of Aragorn.

Tears slipped down her freckled cheeks when she beheld the sight of the white tree. The one she had watched a young Isildur plant with such care after the sea reclaimed their home. For the first time in two millennia, the tree was budding with flowers. A new king had come, evil had been vanquished and peace reigned over the land. My time in Middle Earth has come to an end. The white shores were calling for her to return, and she could deny the call no longer.

Elladan and Elrohir escorted her to Lothlorien from Minas Tirith. The Lady of the Wood had wished to speak with the fairy for some time, though only now did it seem to be the right time. "Arethusa." The fair lady smiled and all was set right in the world, or so it seemed. The fairy lowered her head in genuflection but Galadriel reached forward and lifted her chin. "Will you come with us?"

"I will," came her subdued response, it would be a bittersweet feeling to leave the land she had roamed for an age and had called home. Out of habit she reached for the iron key around her neck and ran her fingers over the runes. "I wish to see him if only for one last time."

Galadriel needn't a name to know of whom the fairy spoke. She had watched Arethusa slowly fade through the decades after her beloved's passing. "And you may in the Halls of Mandos. Aulë made sure his children were not forgotten, dwarves dwell in those halls too."

The fairy's face fell. "But I am not a dwarf." She was a fairy. The last of her kind. Utterly alone in the wide expanse of the world for not even her mother could claim to be a fairy any longer. Rhyannon had been a guise. Vairë was her true name, one of the Valar queens.

The Lady of Light wore a slight smile, knowing well the thoughts that plagued Arethusa's mind and heart. "No, but your request shan't be denied."

The ship sailed peacefully across the calm sea. Wind always filled the sail with the magewind created by Gandalf. Arethusa had not been to sea since that fateful day when her home was cast down and swallowed. She let hope cheat her heart. Some days when she looked over the railing there would seem to be an island with a mountainous center so tall it could touch the heavens, but it was only a memory

With a heavy heart, she departed from Bilbo, Frodo, and the others who had made the journey to the Undying Lands to go north, as Galadriel had told her to do. She made haste to the Halls of Mandos riding on the back of bird and beast alike until they dared not venture any further. The fairy fiddled with the iron key around her neck, her journey would soon be coming to an end.

The great castle that lay before her was like none she had ever seen before, not even the temple of Númenórë could compare. She ascended the stairs hewn from stone where the main gate and door opened in welcome. Vairë stood inside the hall in a dress of blue and green; looking the same as the last time Arethusa had seen her mother whilst under the name of Rhyannon.

"Mother." The lost fairy looked down at her feet, suddenly feeling foolish for seeking out the Halls of Mandos. For she was not a man or an elf, but a lone spirit. The last of her kind. Vairë took her daughter into her arms and kissed the top of her head. It had been centuries upon centuries since she had been able to do that.

"I know why you have come," Vairë spoke gently and took hold of Arethusa's hand, leading her through the vast halls on which the tapestries of history hung. She paused at one and gingerly reached out to touch the shining threads of gold and the dwarf king that stood in the hoard. Vairë made no move to rush the fairy from remembrance. She only ushered her to the next tapestry that depicted her own coronation and pseudo-marriage to Thorin Oakenshield. "Are you ready, my dear?"

The fairy nodded and thought of a phrase that Elendil had told her whilst on the ship that sailed for Middle Earth. The dying man goes not blindly, but surely, knowing the way. She squeezed her mother's hand. "I believe death shall be the greatest adventure yet." Vairë smiled at the wise words of her daughter and brought her before Námo, who regarded the fairy in the highest manner. For she had been touched by Ilúvatar and her plea was granted without deliberation.

Arethusa closed her eyes and faded into nothing yet still she remained as Eru had meant. She felt weightless and heavy all at once and then came time to open her eyes. She was lying on a feathered mattress on a stone table, a fire was roaring in the hearth. Familiar armor lay scattered the stone floor, she stood and pottered around the empty room with a pelt of fur around her shoulders. She saw him then, looking out a window to see the choppy waters of the Northern sea, "Thorin," the way she spoke his name as if she were in a dream and would suddenly wake. The dwarf turned toward her, looking as she had met him in Bag End. She whispered his name again, eyes downcast to hide the tears.

Thorin slipped his hand beneath her chin and forced her to look at him. She knew all at once that it was not a dream. It was real. "I would not have my Queen looking down at her feet whilst she speaks to me," he said gently. Arethusa laughed, softly, remembering the first time he had said that to her and the many times after. It was like they had not been parted at all. "Gellon ned i galar i chent gîn ned i gladhog." Thorin pushed her silver hair back behind her pointed ears and bent down. Arethusa instinctively raised up on her toes and he captured her lips in a soft, sweet, slow kiss that made her heart flutter in delight. The fairy laughed in joy and threw her arms around the dwarf she loved, whom she would always love until the world was renewed.

Gellon ned i galar i chent gîn ned i gladhog (Sindarin): I love to see your eyes shine when you laugh.

Well, we have reached the end. I thank you all for sticking around even when this story was put on hold. For your votes and comments, I am extremely grateful and I do hope you have enjoyed this tale and will continue to enjoy my other works as well.