Frêllian watched to where the great fire drake had flown off to, towards the small town. It wouldn't be long now, before he would take the poor people of Esgaroth by surprise. The sky was already darkening. Another advantage of Smaug, so he could hide in the darkness before attacking all those innocent people.

And then there was a flash of light as the serpent breathed his deadly flames. People were now running for their lives as the fire surrounded them. Innocent people dieing a horrible dead as the flames locked their skins. Others could be crushed by flying debris. Even if she could not see them, their screams echoed through the air and carried over the wind like a haunting lament.

How could they have let this happen? How could she have made this happen! Why didn't she try and stop it!

She was an alpha! A leader! She needed to protect others in need! And even if the humans were not her people, there had been kind people down at Esgaroth to have helped them out. And by doing so, they had signed their own death sentence.

No, she would not allow that to happen! She needed to help them. She had to help them! But how?

What good would it do to run off towards the lake? It had taken them five days to reach the mountain. And even if she were to go alone, she would still be too late. By the time she would reach Lake Town, the people would have perished by the dragon fire.

'It's an awful feeling, isn't it?' Frêllian turned her head to her left to see Fíli standing next to her. His eyes on the horizon, to where Lake Town lied. 'Feeling so helpless.'

'Yes, it is,' she admitted softly. 'And I hate it. I hate feeling helpless. How can I ever dream of becoming a leader to my people, if I can't even protect the ones dear to me?'

'You've protected the hobbit thus far.'

She let out a dry laugh at this. Stating Bilbo did not seek out danger. So protecting him wasn't that hard. But Fíli disagreed. Telling her about how she protected the hobbit from Smaug.

'But,' he continued, 'you've also protected Kíli. You saved him multiple times and he does seek out danger. But most importantly, you look out for our company. You look out for each and every one of us. And that, Frey, is what a good leader does.'

This time, he did look at her. His hand on her hand as he said this.

'You are a good leader. You just have to believe in yourself.'

Speechless, the ferian stared at him. Wondering if he truly meant what he had just said. But as soon as she looked the dwarf-prince in the eye, all she could see was sincerity.

'I'm not even a ferian and I would follow you to the pits of Mordor and back.'

It took her a moment to process that someone other than Bilbo believed in her. But then she smiled. A soft 'thank you' leaving her lips as she looked at him.

Suddenly a thunderous roar echoed through the air. A roar that send a chill down her spine as her eyes immediately returned to the small town in the distance. There, she could barely make out the dark form of Smaug as he flew up in the night sky. The only thing betraying the dragon's whereabouts, was the orange glow penetrating from his chest, like it had done before when he was about to breathe fire.

But something was off. Why was he flying upwards, instead of towards the burning town at the lake? And what of that pained roar? What had happened?

She watched in anxiety as the fire drake stopped flapping his wings and stretched his long neck towards the moon. Then he fell to the ground.

'What was that,' Oin asked, jumping up from the thunderous sound echoing through the land. 'What happened?'

'It fell,' Bilbo exclaimed, his voice shaking in excitement. 'I saw it. It fell!'

'Bilbo's right. Smaug is dead.'

Heads turned to the ferian, before looking down to where Esgaroth lied. The town now laying in ruins in the early light of the sun. Then there where cheers of joy from the dwarves. And Balin told them word would spead across all of Middle earth. The dragon was dead!

In their excitement, the dwarves failed to see their leader hastened away from them. Towards his long lost home. But Frêllian did. Though she was happy for them, glad the dragon was dead. But the way the dwarf had moved bothered her.

She feared something had changed in the dwarven prince. She had seen the look in his eyes grow darker with every passing day. She had noticed his behaviour change the closer they got to Erebor and the greedy look in his eyes when he had set his eyes upon the gold that lied beneath the mountain.

But most of all, she had noticed the worried glances, both her father and uncle would give their leader. She knew of the dragon-spell and the way it even fell over the treasure it guarded. A deep and powerful greed would fall upon the original owner and was Thorin not the rightful owner now?

And as she watched Thorin approach the gates of Erebor, only one thing came to mind as the ferian sighed in sadness. It was indeed dragon sickness.

But that worried her even more. She's heard stories of the effect of dragon-spells and the mistrust, greed and animosity that would posses the dragon's treasure hoard and the feuds and battles that followed after the dragon was slain. And there was greed already growing inside the new king under the mountain. So did that mean that a battle would follow soon after?

Her eyes shifted up towards the starfilled sky and she prayed with all her might that she was wrong. That there was no curse and Thorin was just overcome with emotion if having reclaimed his homeland at last.

Unfortunately her prayers had fallen upon deaf ears, for didn't take long for Thorin to completely succumb to the madness. His days spent walking through the gold filled halls, a greed in his eyes that frightened even the wild part of the ferian. His voice low every time he spoke, longing for one thing only. And with Frêllian her enhanced hearing and the echoing of the mountain halls, she would more often than not escape the madness with an angered scowl on her face. Her now almost permanent golden eyes glaring at the dwarf she had learned to respect whenever she saw him with his precious gold.

Today not being any different. After hearing Thorin walk around his gold for no more than half an hour. Listening as he laughed like a madman, the ferian had rushed passed the others with a groan. Her fair face once again formed in a frown. Her once blue eyes golden, something Bilbo had more than once pointed out worried him. Only every now and then would her eyes flash her usual dark blue, before they would return golden.

So as the ferian passed him by, muttering to herself in her native language, Fíli decided to follow her. It seemed she had taken the very same route every time, for her feet guide her way without her even paying any attention. If she would, she would have noticed her stalker.

Yet the dwarf remains unnoticed as Frêllian exited the mountain. A miserable sigh escaping her as she plopped down - very unladylike - on one of the boulders. Her eyes unseeing as she looked over the plains.

Throughout their journey, Fíli had only seen her act like this whenever something was bothering her. And it was not just Thorin, that much the dwarf prince could tell. Something else was bothering her as well.

But should he make his presence known? Or perhaps she had noticed him already, but simply chose to ignore him?

The longer Fíli looked at her, the stranger he felt. The way her silver hair seemed to glow in the moonlight and her pale skin standing out against the dark night sky. He had almost forgotten the tales of her origin, almost. But seeing her like this, he could see where such tales could come from. He would almost believe the creature before him was indeed the daughter of the moon.

If only her eyes would turn back to their original colour. Though the golden eyes do remind him of her wild side, he preferred her blue eyes. For that would mean she was at ease.

Suddenly he felt stupid. Why did he follow her? And why was he staring at her like that? He should have just stayed with the others, looking for that damned stone his uncle was so obsessed over. Perhaps it would be better if he was to turn around and leave the ferian be. She clearly was in need of some time away from the others. Or maybe she just longed to be out in the open.

She was, after all, a ferian. She should not dwell behind the rocky walls of the mountain. She would never feel at home within the walls of the dwarven kingdom.

Fíli was about to turn around. Feeling stupid for coming after her in the first place. But before he turned completely, he dared cast one last glance to the female and his body froze. His heart thumping loudly against his chest as he watched the now serene looking ferian. Her body now relaxed and her eyes returned to their original colour as she stared at the full moon.

Why, why couldn't he move? Why could he not take his eyes of her? But most of all, why was his heart pounding like it was? Like he had run for miles, but without the exhaustion. With only the lack of air.

Perhaps he was falling ill? Or perhaps...

'The moon shines brightly tonight, doesn't it?'

Never, ever, did Fíli expect to hear such a sound come from the fierce ferian. And he had thought for a moment he had imagined it. But the bewildered look on her face showed him he had not been hearing things.

Frêllian had indeed screamed.

'Well,' he slowly started. The corner of his mouth trembling from trying to suppress a smirk. 'That was unexpected. Never knew you could make such a sound.'

'Speak of this to the others, and you will not live to see another day,' she threatened with a glare. Then she relaxed again, knowing her threat was an empty one. 'Why are you here anyway?'

Now that Frêllian knew of his presence, Fíli moved over to her. Sitting down as well, her eyes not leaving him as he did so.

'To see if you were alright,' he confessed after a moment of silence. 'You've been on edge ever since Erebor has been retaken. And its not just because of my uncle.'

She didn't answer. Instead, she kept her gaze at the moon. Her eyes softening at the mere sight of it. Upon seeing her like this once more, Fíli did not have the heart to continue speaking his mind. To ease her troubled mind, for right now her troubles seemed to have fade to the deep corners of her mind.

So they just sat there, side by side. Enjoying each others company as the cool wind gently brushed their skin. She would entrust her troubles when she wished to do so. He would not press her.

'Tell me lass, is that foolish prince bothering you?'

Surprised by the sudden question, Frêllian looked up from violin she had found. Dust and cobwebs covering the instrument after having lied unmoved on the mountain floor. How it had remained intact, she did not know. But she sure was glad it had.

'Why do you ask,' she replied while dusting off the instrument.

'I have seen him following you every once a while,' Dwalin stated gruffly. 'And I've noticed you moving around the mountain looking depressed. I will not have him bother you. This is to be your home, Frey. And I will not have some prince spoil it.'

Home, why did it sound so strange? Why did it not feel right to her, yet right at the same time?

'Fíli is not bothering me, hêu.' She smiled, still not looking at her father. 'In fact, he helps me keep my sanity. These halls are cold and dark. No stars to lighten the path, only torches. And the lack of sound, it is deafening.'

She finally turned to Dwalin. Her arm outstretched as she showed him the fiddle. Though less dusty that it had been a moment ago, the years of dust building on dust had caked onto the ridges and underneath the snares.

'He's actually the one to suggest searching for this.'

Confused, Dwalin took the instrument from her. He inspected it for a moment, still not understanding the smaller female before him.

'Music can break the silence,' she finally stated with a small smile. 'I can't play, but Fíli kindly informed me you can.'

Finally understanding what she was getting at, he plucked a string. With a winch, the dwarf was quick to tune the small instrument. Then he realised he had no bow to play with. But Frêllian just smiled knowingly at him knowingly and picked up the already cleaned bow. Informing him of her earlier find.

Taking the bow from her, he started to run his bow up and down the strings. His ears carefully listening to the chords, adjusting one last string before the old thing was in tune once again.

'What's this,' a new voice came from behind Frêllian and she turned to face her uncle. 'I didn't know we were taking a break. Does Thorin know?'

'I don't give a rat's ass about what Thorin thinks,' the ferian grumbled darkly, her mood getting sour at just the thought of the mad dwarven king. 'These halls need to be filled by rejoice, not filled with the death of silence.'

'Frêllian is right, you know. I could do with a small break.'

'A break seems fine by me as well. Besides, I don't mind a little playing myself.'

Fíli leaned against one wall with a smile as his brother fingered a flute from his pocket. Saying he had found it while wandering about through the mountain.

It seemed everyone had heard the small instrument Frêllian had found, for one by one they walked into the room. Excitement filling their eyes as Kíli started to play on the flute. Soon followed by Dwalin on the fiddle and the others sang along.

Well, aside from Bilbo and Frêllian. For neither of them knew any of the songs. Instead the two of them dance around. Laughing in glee.

By now Fíli had taken out a small golden harp he had found. The sound so beautiful, unlike anything else Frêllian had ever heard, so pure of sound as the dwarf prince strum a slow tune. And as he started singing in a deep, low voice, the song of old echoed through the halls.

The world was young, the mountains green,

No stain yet on the Moon was seen,

No words were laid on stream or stone

When Durin woke and walked alone

A king he was on carven throne,

In many-pillared halls of stone

With golden roof and silver floor,

And runes of power upon the door.

The light of sun and and star and moon

In shining lamps of crystal hewn

Unimpeded by cloud or shade of night

There shone for ever fair and bright.

Unwearied then were Durin's folk

Beneath the mountains music woke;

The harpers harped, the minstrels sang,

And at the gates the trumpets rang.

As the fair haired prince sang, Frêllian allowed herself to get lost in the song. The strumming of the harp enchanted her, making her feel lighthearted and enjoy the simple things. To allow the heavy weight of the journey fall from her shoulders and not think of what would come next.

Once Fíli was done, Dwalin started moving his bow to a tune most dwarves were unfamiliar with. As was Bilbo. But Frêllian was not.

No, the ferian recognised the tune immediately after her father started playing. Even after all these years did she recognise the song. The words coming back to her as she sang the song of her people.

Dêrus, whèr bistü blêfen?

A länge dú, mín skàt.

Sehe die schencke, mír es gefen

Kömm, lauf mê mír dúr dem nàcht

Dêrus, dín lifde hat mír tröfen

Elchenes nàcht, dú sèngest dín lít

Ín lít hat mít tövert

Màr wechen, möcht a nít

'It's been years since I heard that song,' Balin said once Frêllian finished. 'Cànna used to sing that song, did she not, brother? When you were courting.'

'Aye, that she did,' the bald dwarf hummed. 'Though I did not know what in Durin's name she was singing, I found it bewitching all the same. So I always played that tune, just to hear her sing.'

The ferian smiled fondly at the revelation. Yes, her mother loved that song. The song of Dêrus and Selèna, a love that should not have been possible, yet was. The wolf and the moon.

'So, what is it about then,' Bilbo wanted to know. For the hobbit had not often heard his friend sing and to hear her sing in the ferian language was even a more rare sound to hear. Yet alluring at the same time.

A blush coloured her cheeks as Frêllian answered. For she felt self-conscious all of a sudden, with all the dwarves looking at her in wonder. But still she answered Bilbo.

Then Bofur started to sing a new song and the attention was drawn from the ferian as a cheerful song now filled the halls of Erebor. For the first time celebrating their victory, even if it had been two days since the dragon was defeated.

With a cheerful tune now playing, Frêllian joined her uncle in a dance. Laughing as she danced around, switching from Balin to Bilbo as a dance partner, as the small hobbit showed her how they danced back at the Shire. Experiencing an excitement she had never known. Or perhaps long forgotten.

A hand reached for her own and she was pulled away from the cheerful hobbit she had danced with not a moment ago. His mop of brown hair now replaced by the wild blond mane of the dwarf-prince as he twirled her around. Guiding her through the dance as the pace quickened.

Upon meeting his blue eyes, her cheeks grew even more red, the tips of her ears following soon after. His eyes sparkled with joy as he sang along with the other dwarves, unaware of the turmoil he had started within the ferian. Yet Frêllian desperately tried to calm down the rapid beating of her heart. Silently wondering why it reacted this way every time she was close to the dwarf.

As the song ended, Fíli joined the others in their laughter. The roaring of his laughter making her smile shyly as she excused herself. The touch of his hand still lingering even after he had let go of her hand. A strange fluttering build within her as she once again heard his laugh. The sound of his voice sounding more clear to her, compared to the others.

Why? Why was she experiencing this? It made her feel vulnerable, which went against all of her instincts! She should not be feeling this at all! She shouldn't! Not for Fíli, not for any dwarf for that matter!

'Are you alright, lass?'

She simply nodded upon seeing the concerned face of Gloin. Telling the dwarf that she was just getting tired.

Yes, she could not deny it any longer, how hard she had tried. And tried, she did. When it had started, Frêllian did not know. Neither did she know how. But what she did know, was that she had started to fall for the young heir of Durin. The ruggedly handsome prince had captured her heart. Having found his braided moustache ridiculous once, yet now it seemed to enhance his looks. Drawing her attention to his lips more often than she'd liked.

No! She could not fall for him! She would not! There would only be heartache if she was to allow her heart to fall for the dwarf. For he would find himself a fair dwarrowdam. A dwarf-maiden with polite manners to continue the line of Durin. And one day he would become the next king under the mountain. He did not need a wild beast at his side, poor mannered and raised by orcs and other filth! He would need a fair lady.

Her eyes flicked towards the dwarf, her eyes filled with pain. Besides, it wasn't like he harboured the same feelings for her. No, it would be better for her to lock away her feelings. To spare her both the heartache and embarrassment.

Dêrus, where have you gone off to?

I long for you, my dear.

Behold the gift, that is bestowed upon me

Come, walk with me through the night