'So, you have returned at last?'

The annoyance was evident in her voice, as Frêllian turned around. Now facing the approaching dwarves - and hobbit - she crossed her arms to express her annoyance even more. Completed by the scowl on her face. While the more seasoned warriors seem unfazed by this, the others started to become nervous as they approached the annoyed female.

'You did say we had to clean ourselves up because of the stench.' An unfazed hobbit stopped in front of her, an equally look of annoyance on his own face as well. 'We bathed in the river as you ordered, which was freezing cold, mind you! And now you are mad because we took too long?'

There was a moment of silence in which the tension was building as the two friends stared at each other. Bofur even swallowed thickly as he watched Frêllian's look of annoyance turn into a glare. One brow quirked as she took a whiff.

'Well at least you now smell decent I guess.' Then her glare disappeared as she suddenly looked at the others with a smile. 'I've taken the liberty to cook something while you were away. It should be ready by now. I should warn you that my cooking skills aren't that good,' she added. 'I haven't done much cooking.'

There was a confused mumbling, before they happily grabbed a plate the female had placed on a nearby rock. With all the dwarves now waiting for their food, Bombur had taken his role as cook and filled the plates. Though not before tasting it first and adding more seasoning to the brew. Meanwhile Bilbo was still standing near Frêllian, noting they were missing someone.

'Gandalf said he needed to check on something and went ahead,' Frêllian answered, placing a hand on his shoulder. 'He should not be long.'

Then the ferian followed the dwarves into their makeshift camp, leaving a slightly blushing Bilbo behind. He stared after the leaving form of Frêllian, still feeling the warmth of her hand on his shoulder. Then, after a moment, he shook his head trying to clear his mind as he followed after her.

What was happening to him? They had known each other for quite some time now - almost a year now, he realized. And Frêllian had placed her hand on his shoulder before. She had held his hand, kissed his brow. And never before had he experienced the feeling he had been feeling of recently. For a couple of weeks now, Bilbo had tried to suppress the fluttering of his stomach every time Frêllian smiled at him. He had tried to fight against the blush that threatened to spread across his face. And even then that goofy smile had been difficult to suppress.

Still, he couldn't help the sensational feeling he got every time he looked at the female. How foolish of him to even allow such feelings to cloud his mind. He could think of so many things for why they could never be together. First off all, he was a hobbit, she a ferian - and half dwarf.

Second, he was just a commoner, she the highest ranked person in the ferian hierarchy, a royalty. She was just such a fierce and brave person, born to lead. And he was just a Baggings of Bag End. Besides, her father would never allow it!

But still, why was he feeling like he would be lost without Frêllian? Why were these feelings growing stronger with every passing day?

His eyes trailed over to the said ferian, watching her as she settled in between the two dwarf princes. And before he could even stop it, he found himself glaring at them. Well, not them, never Frêllian. At least not a real glare. No, his glare was meant for just one person. Thorin's first heir, the fair haired prince.

Oh, Bilbo had noticed his friend behave differently of late as well. And he had noticed the reason why very quickly. Perhaps he was just seeing things. Perhaps his own feelings had clouded his mind, undermining his ability to think straight. But he had noticed Frêllian had gotten closer to Fíli, a lot. When this had happened, Bilbo did not know. How it had happened was even a bigger mystery to him. It didn't even matter.

The laughter of Frêllian filled the air and Bilbo felt the familiar butterflies flutter around. But it quickly stopped once Bilbo discovered she was laughing at something Fíli had said. And once again the hobbit found himself glaring at the prince. Ugh, being jealous was not something Bilbo was proud of. But it seemed like a reflex when concerning Frêllian and Fíli.

Bilbo had decided. No matter how it had happened, no matter when it had happened. The fact remained that Frêllian seemed to be drawn to the young warrior. Having traded her flirtatiousness for a shy smile, reserved only for Fíli. And even though the ferian still appeared playful, she seemed to hold back with Fíli. Something Bilbo knew Dwalin had noticed too. For the dwarf had been keeping a watchful eye on the dwarf-prince.

Suddenly a shiver ran down his spine. Someone was watching him! Silently he hoped it was Frêllian. Perhaps the ferian had taken notice of him? But he knew better than to get his hopes up. But that didn't stop him from shifting his eyes to the said female.

Of course Frêllian wasn't looking at him. She was too busy listening to the two brothers and whatever tale they were telling her. So Bilbo turned his gaze to the others. Gloin and Bombur were chowing down their food, with Oin eating his portion at a normal pace. Then there was Bofur, Bifur and Nori who appeared to be in a heated discussion of some sort, while eating their meal while doing so. Ori was too busy drawing something in his sketchbook to eat and Dori was looking over his brother's shoulder. With a nod of approval every now and then as the dwarf inspected whatever the younger dwarf was drawing.

Now there were only three dwarves left and one of them was Frêllian's father. His face paled at the thought of the stoic dwarf watching him. More than once had Dwalin warned Bilbo that Frêllian was not a pet and that was before he revealed to be her father! What would the bald dwarf do if he was to find out Bilbo harboured more than just friendship for the ferian queen?

Slowly, Bilbo turned to his other side. Praying that it wasn't Dwalin who had seen him stare at Frêllian. The dwarf would probably skin him alive! And Thorin would not be too pleased either to see Bilbo glare at his nephew. No, if one of them had caught him, then please let it be Balin. At least the elder dwarf might go easy on him. Softly reminding him of Frêllian's duties as an alpha.

Bilbo quickly spotted the trio, standing a bit further away. But to his surprise, they seemed to be discussing something in hushed voices. Only once did Bilbo see Dwalin look in the direction of Frêllian, before turning back to face Thorin and Balin. But none of them seem to have noticed Bilbo. Which was odd, for he still had a feeling of being watched.

Suddenly Bilbo heard a low growling coming from behind him an he turned around quickly. Frêllian had noticed trouble! Her growling alarming the others as well and within seconds everyone had grabbed their weapon.

'Show yourself, if you want to live.' Bilbo was surprised to hear Frêllian's voice this demanding. The power it held matching that of Thorin. 'I will not warn again.'

'I am sure you won't.' The feminine voice that replied, held a hint of humour and four figures appeared from behind the trees. 'I have been told your bite is worse than your bark and I do not plan on trying to find out.'

'Frêlin Frêllian, sêgenett ist unsger trèfung.' (Lady Frêllian, blessed is our meeting)

By now, Frêllian was standing in front of the newcomers. A low growl still coming from her as she looked at the male that had spoken last. Judging from their appearance, these were ferien as well. Though Bilbo couldn't remember seeing them back at Rivendell. Were these members from a different pack? Or were these from Frêllian's old pack?

Bilbo watched on as Frêllian talked to the strangers in ferish. Though her growling had stopped her voice still remained demanding while speaking, her posture regal. Like a real alpha, he noticed in admiration. How could she sound this demanding, while looking as elegant as ever. Dangerous, but elegant.

'Thorin.' At the mention of his name, Thorin walked over to the small group. His arms crossed as he stopped next to Frêllian. 'They say they have news on the whereabouts of Azog.'

'Azog?'

One of the males nodded, before speaking again. He explained he had heard word of their alpha supreme having returned and about the run-in she's had with Azog. That was when he and his sister - the red-haired ferian who had replied to Frêllian's warning - decided to see if they could be of help.

'We found Azog and his pack not a day behind,' the female finished. 'They travel slower than a small pack of ferien, but faster than a pack of dwarves. I fear they will reach you sooner than you might know.'

'And how do we know you speak the truth?'

Frêllian glared at the dwarf.

'Drüsten was send by Gírla.' Gírla, now that's a name Bilbo remembered. She had been one of the ferien back in Rivendell. 'And I trust Gírla.'

With that said, the ferien and Thorin separated themselves from the others. Probably to talk about how to keep the distance between the pack and the company.

As Frêllian watched the four ferien depart, Thorin visibly relaxed next to her. She had noticed the dwarf still had trouble trusting her people and she couldn't blame him. Her old pack had done horrible things! She herself had been hesitant to thrust them, upon meeting the pack back in Rivendell. But the previous beta - Gírla- had opened her eyes. That Frêllian had been right all along and that not all ferien were evil.

Still, the female had failed to convince the stubborn dwarf. Heck, he only started trusting Frêllian after she tried to protect him. And she was the daughter of his most trusted warrior! She knew it would be a long time still for Thorin to get over his wrath.

'So, that's the plan?' Frêllian nodded. Her eyes now barely able to see the red and brown furs in the distance. 'And you trust them? Even though you have never seen them before?'

'Do you have trouble trusting dwarves you've never met?' She had startled Thorin with her question. He didn't show it much, but she had noticed the slight rising of his brow. 'You do trust your own people, don't you?'

'Yes, of course,' Thorin answered while crossing his arms. 'But dwarves can be trusted. Ferien on the other hand, are a different story. You have witnessed firsthand how traitorous the can be.'

'It was just one pack, Thorin,' she countered crossly. 'And it just so happened to be my former pack. I was raised by this traitorous pack. Do you still think I am a traitor?'

Thorin looked at Frêllian with a softness in his eyes she had not yet seen before. A rare smile slowly formed on his lips, and for the first time she could the a striking resemblance of Fíli and Kíli. As she looked at him, she didn't see a grumpy old dwarf. No, this time she saw a loving father, or in his case, uncle.

'l was a fool not to trust you,' he admitted as he gently placed a hand on her shoulder. 'And I have judged you wrongly. I will not make that mistake again. If you say they are trustworthy, then trustworthy they are.'

Frêllian nodded in satisfaction. Her smile matching that of Thorin's as she looked at the dwarf in pride. It seemed that after all these months, she had finally been able to bond with him. Who would have thought she would be able to bond with this stubborn dwarf in the first place? Thorin, the unreachable dwarf. The dwarf that seemed to hold wrath against all that wasn't a dwarf.

'You know, you should smile more often,' Frêllian decided with as her smile widened. 'You look much more handsome when you do. And younger.'

'Perhaps,' Thorin agreed. 'But I find there is little to smile about. And with the responsibility of my people resting in my shoulders, I have no to time for any form of relaxation.'

'That's nonsense. Especially those who have a great responsibility are in need of a daily relaxation. Just a simple smile can do miracles. I have witnessed that one first-hand.'

By now they had reached the campsite again. With everyone having finished their plate, they seemed to have gathered around the campfire. Happily chattering with each other. But once Frêllian and Thorin arrived, everyone turned their attention to them. After sitting down next to his youngest nephew, Thorin turned his attention towards Frêllian again. The ferian herself now sitting next to Bilbo as the two began to explain the plan to keep ahead of their enemy.

'Well then, humour me,' Thorin said after they finished, now a lopsided smile on his face. 'You promised to tell us more about ferien. Why not start with the controlling of dragons.'

'Is that even possible?'

Frêllian quirked a brow as Bofur wondered out loud. Was such a thing even possible? Of course it wasn't. Though legend has it that her people once rode flightless dragons during war. None-firebreathing creatures no larger than an ox.

Though she did not believe such stories, she always loved hearing them. So she began her story. One her uncle once told her - that small detail not including of course. There was no need to mention his filthy name, even if he was a kind man back then.

But the legend went that once the land was inhabited with many creatures. Some small, others big. And a handful of them giant even. The stone giants being a great example.

But there were also dragons. There was Glaurung, the father of dragons and Ancalagon the Black. The mightiest of dragons to have ever lived. And of course there was Smaug, the dragon that had taken over Erebor decades before Frêllian was even born.

But once there was a breed that could not breath fire nor ice. Nor could they fly like the others. This flightless dragon had been used by the first ferien. Her ancestor Ferès being the first rider. These dragons had been wingless. Some predatory, others prey. Even Frêllian found it hard to imagine a creature such as a dragon to be herbivore.

But there had been such dragons once, according to legend. They had been smaller than the other dragons as well. Most of them being the size of an ox, with only a few standing taller. Walking on four legs, but there had been ones on two legs as well.

'They were used as a mount during times of war,' Frêllian continued her story. 'The ones with horns being one of the most favored due to their horns and large frill at the back of their head. But also due to their kind and obedient temper. Bölma the valiant was such a dragon and mount of Ferès.'

'So even amongst these dragons there were different species?'

Frêllian nodded.

'Or so the legend says,' she told the scribe as he scribbled something down. 'Though it is said they have gone extinct. Hunted down by men and other dragons. If they did exist at all of course.'

'And how do you know such things, when other folk seem to have forgotten the likes of such creatures?'

This time it was Fíli to speak up. While he had been listening with great interest, he couldn't help but wonder why his female companion seemed to posses knowledge of thing his uncle didn't even know of. Which was really surprising as Thorin was a wise dwarf indeed.

'Why do most folk not know of hobbits? Why are direwolves only a myth?' No one seemed to know the answer, so Frêllian continued. 'Because they are rarely seen. Thought to be an illusion made by our mind. Only few men have ever seen a hobbit and they are often mistaken for a child.'

Her eyes travelled to the north, before she continued.

'The direwolves have settled so deep into the snowy mountains of the north, they seem to have faded into legend. Though on clear nights I could hear their howls back at the shire. Their songs telling stories of old.

So why should the stories of the less impressive, much smaller dragons be remembered? And upon seeing one, thought to be only a juvenile? I do not claim to believe such stories, but each folk has their own and this is one my people have told one another throughout generations.'

This earned her a wave of muttering. Some in disbelieve, others in amazement. With a pleased look on her face, Frêllian watched her comrades. Her eyes landing in Ori as he scribbled down her story it seemed. For a long time the said dwarf had been afraid of her. Seeking the protection of his brothers whenever she would look at him. Yet now Ori had no problem sitting close to her. Her keen eyes have often seen his pencil sketch about on a piece of paper and he would proudly show her his piece of art.

Then her eyes landed on her father. How long she had longed to find him. And how long had she been traveling with him, without even knowing. Oh, she had been furious when she had found out. But that has been weeks ago. And while their bond has increased over time, it still felt odd to know the bald warrior was her father. But then again, she had been only a pup when she had last seen him. Seventy years could estrange even the closest bond, when being apart.

Still the ferien held hope that their bond would return. Dwalin certainly had showed he hadn't lost his touch, having tried to protect Frêllian on different occasions. Keeping her in his sight at all time, like a wolf would watch its pup.

As she looked over at each and every individual with a fond smile, it suddenly hit her. These dwarves, this company. It wasn't just a pack she was traveling with. They were her friends! Her family! The warmth in her chest having told her long ago, what her mind just realised. She had been willing to sacrifice her own life in order to save Thorin. She would go on a rampage if anyone would be foolish enough to harm - or worse, kill - Bilbo! The hobbit being her very first friend. And even if someone tried to lay hands on Fíli and Kíli, the ferian would start a war just to see blood.

Shocked by her discovery, Frêllian turned her gaze up to where Lüna was now gracing the skies. When had this change happen? How did this happen? After her uncle had betrayed her mother, after years of beating to put her into place, Frêllian had promised herself to never let anyone close. To protect herself from any harm. Yet here she was now.

Lüna, she had gotten soft.