Arien's eyes snapped open when Thorin shot up in bed, the arm he had around her supporting her body as he moved.

"What?"

Balin stood framed in the doorway, the half light of not-yet-dawn silhouetting the dwarf's stout figure. He didn't seem to blink at Thorin half-naked in the bed, or at the fact that he was in her room.

Seeing that she was awake, Balin addressed his answer to her.

"There's been an attack on a village in the Grey Mountains. All of it –– the people, the village –– has been burned. We suspect dragons are behind it."

Dragons, Arien thought. Dragons?

Shit. Shit.

Thorin growled

"Give me details. What happened exactly?"

"It was in the dead of night, while the whole village was asleep. Then suddenly, fire, wreathing the village, burning through crops and houses –– burning through people. None that we know of survived. We received the report from some people in a nearby town, who saw the blast. Like a beacon, they said it looked like. Like a circle of golds and oranges and reds. But the screams of those burned reached them even from that distance."

Thorin swallowed, and she knew he was thinking the same as her. That while they had sat on this bed, kissing long into the night, innocent lives had been taken. Innocent people burned to ashes. Arien put a hand on his chest as he opened his mouth to ask something else.

Only for one of the guards –– she recognised him by his uniform –– to come rushing in.

"Someone said you were here, Prince, and I..." The young guard's tumble of words was cut off as he saw Arien in the bed. His eyes widened.

"Keep going," Thorin gritted.

"There's an elf at the gates," the guard said. "Not one of Thranduil's elves. He has golden hair, hair that shines like a star in the darkness, and he rides a bright white stallion."

Arien had gone still, her hand frozen on Thorin's chest.

"Glorfindel," she whispered.

She did not have time to think about her problems later.

They could not wait.

Because they were already here.

And then she was up, pushing off Thorin's arm, shoving past Balin and the guard and running out of the doorway, not caring that she wore only a pale blue shirt and brown trousers, with bare feet.

"Arien," Thorin called. She ignored him.

Because Glorfindel...

No, she would not think about why he was here.

She hurtled down the stairs and bridges, taking steps two at a time. Towards the main gate. Each step alternated between fear and iron-willed determination.

Left. He can't, he can't take me away from him.

Right. But he will. There's nothing you can do to stop him.

Left. My life is my own. I control it. I am my own master now.

Right. Thror hates you. He might very well make you leave if given the excuse.

Left. Then I will not let him. He was the one who admitted me to this kingdom. He has no right to make me leave.

She reached the level on which the main gate stood, panting with fear and exertion. Guards, more than usual, stood by the gate as it opened, the sun rising to shine upon the white rider entering, casting a radiant glow from both elf and horse.

Arien skidded to a stop a few metres away. Glorfindel's eyes met hers and he smiled, dismounting from Asfaloth and moving towards her. She smiled back, because...

He was her friend.

"Glorfindel," she said. "I... I have to..."

"Arien!"

She spun to see Thorin coming toward her, fully clothed now with his sword in his belt. He reached her.

"Are you all right?" he asked gently. She knew that though he looked at her he was aware of Glorfindel's every movement.

She nodded mutely. She couldn't speak. She glanced between them.

Glorfindel, Thorin.

Thorin, Glorfindel.

I love you, Arien.

"I cannot go back," she said quietly.

She saw Thorin glance between her and Glorfindel, saw him put the pieces together.

This was an elf from Rivendell.

He had come to take her home.

"No," Thorin whispered, so quietly she didn't think Glorfindel heard.

She brushed her fingers against his, a silent promise. She was not going to leave him. Glorfindel marked the gesture.

"Lord Elrond has commanded your return," the elf told her.

Arien's heart sank. She could not lose her prince.

"I will..." she began.

"She cannot."

It was Balin who spoke, Thorin's friend having now reached the gates.

"Thror has admitted her to his people, and she cannot leave without his consent."

Arien cast Balin a grateful look, even as Glorfindel's mask of immortal calm did not show his surprise, and she guessed it was only her who marked the slight widening of his eyes.

"Then we will get his permission," he said.