Arien was standing on a green hilltop that rose above the fields between Rivendell and the Misty Mountains, and she was crying. Tears slid silently down her face and plopped onto the grass. There was nothing that could be done to fix her. Nothing. And she was...

She was...

A whimpering noise came out of her, lips trembling so hard she had to clamp down to keep the sound inside. But the sound was in her throat and her lungs and her mouth, and when she took a breath it cracked out. Everything cracked out, cracked and shattered and exploded, and she did not know how to put the pieces back together.

So she remained on that hilltop, remained there as the sun began to set, as she vaguely felt the shift in the light, vaguely felt the sighing wind, warm as it brushed against her damp cheeks. She did not know how long she stood there, and she did not hear his approach. Not until he reached her and softly, gently tilted her chin so she would look at him. Those stunning eyes glistened as they met hers, filled with grief and pity. And something else she couldn't place.

"Why are you crying, Arien?" he murmured gently.

It had been a hundred years –– a hundred long years since someone had asked. Since someone had cared enough to ask. Arien –– why do you cry?

"Because I am lost," she whispered. "And alone. Because I do not know the way."

It was what she had never been able to tell anyone, even herself. That for a hundred years, she had been unsure how to find the way home, because there was no home left.

"You are not alone," Thorin told her quietly. Gently.

She raised her head and met his gaze. "I am alone. I will always be alone. I have no one left. No one."

She hadn't realised how much she meant it, how much she needed it not to be true, until now. But Thorin reached for her hand, gripping it tightly in his.

"You have me," he whispered, and his voice broke. "I made you a promise, down in that valley. I will not break it, Arien. Whatever happens, I will be with you every step of the way."

Every step of the way.

Thorin pulled her into his arms, his embrace warm and comforting.

"It's just," she whispered, her voice muffled by his coat. "Sometimes I wish... I wish I had been killed with them."

Thorin tightened his arm around her while the other hand brushed down the back of her head. She leaned into his touch. "I know," he murmured quietly. "I understand."

For some reason, something buried deep inside of her clicked at those words. Some long hidden loathing that sprang into awakening. He didn't understand. No one understood. She pulled free of him.

"No, you don't, you don't understand. How could you?" she snapped. "You, sitting safe in your kingdom, in luxury, never having to worry that your people could be annihilated, that your home, your family, your friends could be destroyed, just taken from you, like that." She snapped her fingers, and a laugh came out of her, icy and bitter. "I have heard of another person, long ago, who lost as much as me. And do you know what he did with it –– that loss?" She could barely stop the words from pouring out. "He hunted down the people responsible for it and obliterated them. He did something with his wasted life. All you've ever done is sit in your useless excuse for a kingdom and let other people do the work for you."

Arien felt the words hit their mark.

Felt a stillness shudder through Thorin's body as he stared at her.

He swallowed once. Twice. And with the movement, she could feel a wall rising up. Sealing.

Too far. She'd gone too far. She'd never once believed those things. Not about Thorin.

His chest rose in a jagged breath that brushed against hers.

Never again. He'd never again forgive her, smile at her, for what she'd said.

Never forget.

"Thorin," she rasped. But he took a step away from her. Leaving her standing alone. Alone and forgotten as he retreated another step and the setting sun caught on the silver starting to line his eyes.

It ripped her chest wide open.

"I meant none of it," she whispered. "None of it, and it was myself that I..."

"A kernel of it must have been in you, though," he said.

She had gone too far, and Arien had never hated herself more, because she had wanted to pick a fight, because she had been so damned stupid when she'd really been talking about herself.

"Please," she said. "I'm sorry."

Thorin surveyed her, from her feet to her face.

"I'm sorry," Arien said again.

Still he did not speak.

"I meant none of it, Thorin," she repeated, clenching her fists at her side. "I was talking about myself. You have been... the best prince, the best friend I could have wished for. Your courage, your strength, your unfaltering will –– I do not have words for it."

His face did not change.

"Please, Thorin."

She reached for him, needing to hold him, to reassure herself that he was still there.

Her fingers curled around empty air.

"Perhaps it makes you feel better about yourself to associate with arrogant, lazy people like me."

"I do not," Arien took another step forward, reaching for his hand so she could just touch him, hold his hand and squeeze it, just show him she wasn't like that. Didn't think like that. "You know I didn't mean it."

She stepped toward him again. And read it –– the light in his eyes. The tone.

He was playing with her. To see just how much she'd do to get him to forgive her.

He met her stare, his blue eyes dancing, not a trace of that hurt in them, as if to say

It took you long enough to figure it out.

A little smile bloomed on Arien's lips.

He stepped toward her, closing the distance between them.

"I know you didn't mean it," he said quietly.

Thorin's eyes were still bright from those tears she'd caused.

One of them clung to his cheek.

Arien lifted a thumb and wiped it away.

She was trembling. Not with fear, not as she realised how close he was to her, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at him.

And it was when she settled a hand on his chest, not to push him away but to feel the raging, thunderous heartbeat beneath that Thorin lowered his head.

And kissed her.