The pale moonlight bathed Arien's beautiful face in silver light, casting it into light and shadow as she lay curled on her side, her hair falling about it in a cascade of bronze. Thorin couldn't sleep. He'd lain there with his eyes open, not wanting to move in case he woke Arien, and not slept at all.

Thorin shifted onto his side, if he was honest with himself unable not to look at Arien's sleeping face. He'd never really noticed it before, but her hands were beautiful, like delicate, tiny doves. He was half tempted to reach forward and lace his fingers through hers. Instead, Thorin leaned over, gently pushing her hair out of her face, his knuckles brushing her skin. He dragged a thumb gently across her cheek, her skin so soft against the rough calluses of his own. He smiled softly, grazing his knuckles against her lips, touching places he'd never before had the cause to touch.

She was so cold, he realised. Despite the blanket, her face was like ice against his hand. As gently as he could, Thorin pulled the blanket further over her shoulders, tucking it over her bare neck. Arien blinked slowly awake, her green eyes heavy, and smiled when she saw him. That smile... Thorin couldn't help returning it as he murmured

"Go back to sleep, Arien."

She nodded wearily, but reached for his hand, gripping it in her own small one and bringing it up to her face.

Thorin hesitated a moment, then reached for her, pulling her toward him and enveloping her in his arms, letting her bury her head in his chest. He rested his cheek on her hair. She breathed in deep, and mumbled

"By Durin, you're warm."

He laughed quietly. "Finally you're starting to speak like a dwarf."