I simply could not help myself.

WARNING: Spoilers. This will be based off the later end of the book, which hasn't been in the movie yet. I'll try to make it mostly my story, but there will be events from the book, so tread carefully if you want to be surprised by the movie.

Let me know if I should continue, what you like, how your lunch was, anything you'd like!

P.S. I'm terrified of writing in this fandom. LOTR is my favorite...everything, but to write in it I really had to just take my own approach, so please ignore all inaccuracies and enjoy this story as a little fic for fun rather than epic-ness.

"Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again."

-C.S. Lewis

Elenna was ten when she started to be teased for still believing in dragons. Eleven when her friends stopped listening to her stories about what the earthquakes really were. And twelve when a particularly nasty fight with the town's boys had her sister grab her, shake her, and tell her to grow up and stop believing bedtime stories.

She had fled to her room, unfortunately one that she shared with said sister, but it was the only place in the house without adults and she didn't want to be asked about the streaks on her face and bruises on her hands. It was cold without a fire but she buried herself in her mother's quilt and silently cried until a voice came through the crack of her door.

"Elenna?"

Her grandpa's voice was the most familiar one to her in the whole world. He put them to sleep every night as long as she could remember, but she found no comfort in it now, nor in the sink of the bed that accompanied it. She flinched as his hand touched her shoulder and emerged just long enough to see him cover the sad look on his face, which filled her with silent guilt.

"Your sister told me what happened."

For years she'd watched the lines of his face grown heavier, like a pencil was etching them in, but it was even worse when he looked tired.

She didn't answer him, but kept her eyes down.

"You're never too old to believe in anything, Elenna. If you believe it in your heart, who is anyone to tell you otherwise?"

"If it is not true I don't want to believe it," she cried, "I want to know the truth."

"It is the truth," her grandfather said, giving her a small smile. "Men...have a way of forgetting things, whether they do it out of ignorance or will to ease pain. But there are those of us who have not forgotten, and if smart girls like you continue to believe, than no ever will."

"But why would people forget something so terrible?"

"To convince themselves it doesn't exist?" he ventured, scratching his bearded chin. "It was a bad time for all. The dwarves lost everything, and there was fear here for quite some time." He sighed. "But time passed. And now I suspect they forget because they haven't seen it with their own eyes. To imagine something in one's head without seeing it is a great gift, Lenna dear, and one you should not let other's take from you."

"I always dream of them," she confessed, "Terrible fire that makes my skin crawl with heat. Huge wings. And mounds of treasure." She blushed, feeling the embarrassment from earlier flush her cheeks. "But just dreams."

"Grandfathers don't have favorites Elenna," he told her, scooping her into a sitting position. She had always been small for her age and still fit on his lap. "But you are my dreamer. And you can think and do whatever you please, but remember you are your own person, and someone that doesn't accept you for that is not worth your tears."

"Thank you Grandfather," she whispered, kissing his cheek.

"And remember," he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "Your old grandfather has some fight in him yet, if any of those boys should be knocking you down again!"

Years passed and the boys stopped teasing her, and her sister stopped chiding her and instead turned to her brother, and dragons were no longer a large part of her concern.

Sometimes, just for memory's sake, she would sit outside her younger brother's bedroom and listen to her grandfather tell him tales. He was the best storyteller she'd ever heard, and his words could still make her breath shudder, no matter how long it had been. On nights she listened in, she had dreams, from time to time, of terrible scorching fire and burning houses, but she always blinked them away in the morning.

Somewhat sadly she one day realized these stories would never be her own. Her days were filled with routine and work, and the only adventures she got were in snippets of stories and pages of books.

She planned to read one now, as she carried logs inside her family's home. Her best friend had traded and gotten her a book she'd never read before, and her fingers had been itching in anticipation all day to crack it open. She rushed through all her tasks until her mother had yelled at her to slow down and do them properly.

Now she was on her last chore, and just about to set down the last log when her brother Collin burst through their door.

"Collin!" her mother had on her chiding voice, but it stopped short when she saw her youngest child's face glow with excitement.

"Dwarves!" he yelled.

Elenna straightened to look at him better, wondering what he was talking about. She chanced a look at Rose to gauge her sister's usually skeptical reaction to things. To her lack of surprise, Rose's face was scrunched into a squint, her mouth a thin line.

"What about dwarves?" Rose asked, squinting her eyes at him. "Has Grandfather been telling you stories again?"

"Dwarves here," Collin asserted. "In town! Now!"

Elenna could feel something rise up inside of her, but she didn't know what. All she could think was that if this was true, for once her real life was more interesting than the book she had waiting in her room.

"Absolutely not," Rose said, rolling her eyes. "He's just trying to play a game with us."

Her grandpa then entered through the door Collin left open, and she wondered how much he'd heard. Certainly it had to be a silly rumor spread among boys. But if it wasn't? If they were coming back, then it was for a reason, and that reason could be the one that she'd been dreaming of.

Maybe grandfather's stories were more than stories after all.

A silence hung in the room as they all turned to her grandfather. Her father was not home yet, and the only other person who'd been out was him. Collin looked excited and anxious, and Elenna's stomach could not stop twisting like a rope.

"He's telling the truth," her grandfather finally said, his eyes twinkling. "The dwarves are here. And if I may say, it's about time."