Three loud thuds sounded on the door early the next morning. Eliniel tied her robe around her before opening the door, feeling more exposed in her simple sleeping gown and robe than if she'd completely nude when she saw Thorin standing on the other side.

"Eliniel," he greeted warmly, holding out her drawing book.

She felt his stare like a fire on her face. "Thank you," she told him, not daring to say his name - watching that choice settle on his already hardening face. Regret filled her the moment the light left his eyes, for he had been so kind to her. He nearly thrust the book in her hand before turning away from her. "Thorin," she called softly in a blind rush of courage, watching as he turned and waited for her to continue. "Thank you," she said again, her sweet voice drawing him closer, "for yesterday. It was beautiful."

He looked up at her, seeing the shy smile that was nearly hidden as she leaned against the door. Her eyes gave her away, he could see the attraction in their depths, see the want for him to stay though they both knew he should not - her eyes mirrored his own. As though he were attached by a string he was pulled closer to her. "There are others," he said, placing his hand on the door, his fingers reaching to brush against her own. "I can show you all of them."

His touch was lightning, burning her skin, leaving her breathless. "I would like that very much," she said softly, many of the words getting lost before they reached his ears.

But he understood, saw the want written all over her face. With a devilish grin he took her hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing his lips to her skin for several lingering moments before he released her. She smiled softly as he stepped back, seeing his nod before she closed the door and then the sound of his feet as he walked down the hall. Her heart was a drum in her chest, pounding a frantic rhythm, her skin tingling where his mouth had been, where his beard had rubbed against it.

"You are the reason."

She turned slowly to see her brother's confused eyes. He'd stayed with her through the night, speaking of kinder things after his previous harsh words of her being with the dwarf prince. He saw now that he had been right, that he had not been harsh enough.

"You are why he is so free with you, you welcome it, you," he did not finish; she enjoyed it. She enjoyed the way the dwarf looked upon her, the way his hand trailed to hers. He had often wondered when she would accept the advances of a suitor, for there were many of their kin who had spoken of wishing to court her though she had never showed interest. Apparently, he saw, they were not her taste; she preffered prideful, arrogant, hard-headed, stubborn, infuriating men. Yet even then, staring at her flushed cheeks and the light sparkling in her eyes - he could not tell her never to see him again, could not bare to be the one to tear the light from her eyes.

"Why are you here?" she asked softly, lying naked on the bed as Thorin pulled on his shirt.

Her skin was cream in the pale moonlight, white as lace and just as lovely. He knew how soft it was, how warm she was; he'd spent the last hour revelling in the feel of her as he had yearned to for over a century. Joy had only ever been found on the planes of her face, mapping the expanse of her body, swimming in the ocean of her dark hair, painted on her lovely mouth, hiding between her legs. He'd never find joy anywhere else, though he looked, though he would continue to look; and even then, knowing his happiness lived in her, he continued to redress so that he may leave her. "My company and I are passing through," he said curtly, offering no more.

She turned to him then, her eyes heavy on his back, knowing why he was angry with her - and knowing more that he was unjust in his anger. "Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror, King under the Mountain," she said, her lovely voice curling around his name so intimately, "I know where it is you journey to."

Her face was soft as she looked at him, her eyes void of the darkness that reigned in his. He had no answer for her, none that would not break her heart. He had ceased allowing himself the honesty of loving her, had instead twisted it until it was something he could stomach - something she could not. He disliked that she knew the purpose of his quest, though if anyone were to know it would be her - she always believed he would make a great king. But that was not what she was asking, and he would not tell her that he had come simply because he had missed her - it was his darkest secret, one he guarded closely. "Do not ask that which you cannot stand the answer to," he warned her as he pulled on his boots, standing as he prepared to rid himself of her.

She knew not to ask what she wanted to - if she were truly so awful - for she knew he did not think she was, only he would say she were because of the father she had been born to. It left her with nothing else to say, in fear of his response and the brief flash of regret in his eyes after he spoke. She was protecting herself, saving her heart from the sharp end of what he'd say; but she protected him as well, for his words were a double ended sword and as they pierced her heart so too they pierced his own. So she said nothing, instead she stood and took up his coat holding it out for him.

"Stay with me, but a few moments more," is what her gesture asked of him, leaving the choice his to take or cast aside; and she so hoped he would take it, even if prolonging his stay did nothing more than tear her apart.

He hesitated, knowing what it was she was asking and finding her uncovered body more alluring than he ever had before. It was not possible to refuse her, not when she stood so invitingly, so willing for him to reach for her. He took the coat from her hand, tossing it on the bed carelessly - wanting nothing more than to spend even the smallest of moments more. He stepped forward as he undid his belt, forcing her back as he removed his clothes and threw them aside; not until she sat on the sill of the window did he stop inching her back, not wanting to look up at her anymore. The air was cold on their skin, his hand wound in her hair as he arched her neck.

"I will have you screaming my name," he whispered in her ear, his voice hard and unyielding. "Let them all know you enjoy laying with a dwarf." He cared not for her gentle heart, for her light spirit, he cared no more than she. For she pulled his mouth to hers, kissing him more fiercely than she'd ever dared; she desired him in the strongest of ways, in the darkest. And they both knew it would be her ruin.

PS: yes, Legolas is very clever; and a very good brother.

The Guest: Thank you very much for reviewing. It would give Thorin and Kili some common ground, though the elves they fall in love with show how different their hearts are. And Balin will tell the group of her and Thorin, and there may be a bit of a surprise thrown in there. But that will come a little later, after the group meets her. So probably right before they go to Beorn's.