Kokonoa: Millennials have passed and not only do we still not own the Hobbit or any of the characters, but we have also lost our dear Dragon princess Nadia Vallen, may her wrath never reach us -

Faela: May her wrath never reach you, I'm not the one who's heartlessly abandoned her for the past months.

Kokonoa: -from the afterlife, and I hope you've enjoyed her story, despite it ending abruptly.

Vallen: -Shooting out of the ground in dragon form- I BET YOU THOUGHT I WAS DEAD.

-Terrified screaming-

Chapter 10

Thorin did not like Rivendell. It was too beautiful, too calm and peaceful. And there were Elves everywhere. That alone was enough to sour his views on the valley in which the Company had taken refuge.

Although the Elves had been hospitable, and they had not made any attempts to try and keep them there, Thorin did not trust them. They were watching them, he could tell. It was subtle, but it was obvious enough for him to notice. The Elf, Lindir, was not as good at spying on them as he thought he was. It was plain that his aim was to watch the Company, more than it was to serve them.

Thorin gripped the railing of his room's balcony and sighed softly. He had been on his guard ever since entering Rivendell, and he had not been able to sleep properly because of it. Thorin was tired, and he wanted nothing more than to get away from the Elves so that he could rest without fear of being stabbed in the back.

Below in the valley, Thorin caught sight of Fili and Kili sparring in a courtyard, while all the other members of the Company either watched and cheered or tended to their weapons and armor. He turned away and strode out of the room and made his way down to where they were assembled.

Dwalin was the first to notice his arrival. He rose from his seat to greet him. At his move, the rest of the Company turned and rose at the sight of their leader. They looked at him expectantly, as though awaiting orders.

"Any sign that the Elves wish to keep us here against our will?" Thorin addressed them.

They shook their heads to say 'no'.

"They've treated us as honored guests so far, Uncle," Kili spoke up.

"Aye, but that could be meaningless. Elves are tricky bastards at the best of times," growled Dwalin, who crossed his arms and scowled.

"They've given us shelter when they could've turned us away," Kili protested. "Does that count for nothing?"

Thorin frowned and cut in. "Regardless, we must all be on our guard for treachery. Gandalf has admitted to me that the Elves would stop us if they knew of our quest. Should the Elves try something, it would be wise to know when and how so that we can escape."

"What of Vallen?" It was Fili who spoke this time. At the mention of her, Thorin's frown turned into a scowl. What of Vallen, indeed. "Do we trust her?"

"I don't see why not," Bofur replied, resuming his task of sharpening his mattock. "She's a kind sort, if a bit secretive. And she's devilishly handy with a sword."

"A bit secretive?!" Dwalin exclaimed hotly. "She's a bloody princess, and she never mentioned that to us! What else is she hiding from us?"

A few murmurs of assent sprung up around the group.

"Aye, this could all be some sort of plot!" Dori said, springing to his feet. "Princesses don't just wander the Wilds when they could live in a palace. She probably has an army somewhere, just waiting to take over the Mountain after we kill the Dragon!"

"She saved us from the trolls!" Gloin cried, standing up to face Dori, who was not fazed by the other Dwarf's massive size. "I was seconds from becoming troll supper. We all were! And she saved us! I owe her my life."

"We all owe her our lives," Kili added vehemently, moving to stand beside Gloin. "So, she is a princess. What does that matter? She, herself, said that her title was meaningless. After what she did for us, we ought to trust her!"

Balin sighed from beside Thorin. "I do not believe that she means to do us harm. Vallen has shown great courage to face down three mountain trolls in our defense. However, it is her secrets that I do not trust, and I have the feeling that she has many."

"And what does our fearless leader say?" said Dwalin, prompting all eyes to turn to Thorin. "Is Vallen, or Nadia, trustworthy?"

Thorin was silent for a moment. His mind travelled back to the day of the troll attack. Thorin would be lying if he said that Vallen had not gained a great deal of respect from him for her actions. He had seen the hard, determined look in her eyes when she had cut him loose and lent him her swords, and when she stood in between them and the beasts. Whoever or whatever she was, Vallen was a true warrior. For now, that was enough for Thorin.

"I say that we can trust her," Thorin said finally. They all listened to him intently as he spoke. "Vallen's secrets are her own, and they do not concern us or our quest. She is trustworthy."

The Dwarves all murmured in agreement, save for a few who said nothing. Balin pursed his lips in disagreement, but he nodded. Dwalin gave Thorin a piercing look, as though he were trying to determine what he was thinking.

"Then we shall trust her," Dwalin agreed. His eyes met Thorin's, and he knew that Dwalin wanted to speak with him privately. Thorin nodded in response.

"That is all. Carry on," he said, and he motioned for Dwalin to follow as he left the courtyard. Once they were out of earshot, they turned to face each other.

"Do you really trust her, Thorin?" Dwalin asked. "We have no idea what she is hiding."

"I do, for now at least," he replied. "I overheard her speaking with Mr. Baggins about her royal past. Her title does not give her power to wield."

Thorin eyed his older friend with curiosity. Dwalin was giving him a similar stare. There was something else that was bothering him, something which he had yet to speak of.

"Tell me." Dwalin's bushy eyebrows raised in question. "You know exactly of what I speak. Tell me."

Dwalin's grey eyes narrowed. "There's something not right about her. I feel it in my bones every time I look her in the eyes. You've said the very same thing to me before we left the Shire, so I know you feel it too. She's dangerous, Thorin."

Thorin knew he was right. He had felt the same thing when he first saw her, and that sense of unease had not gone away. Whenever Thorin met her eerie green eyes with his own, he could not help but feel a shiver run down his spine.

The feeling both confused and infuriated him in equal measure. Thorin had never been easy to intimidate, even as a boy. So, why would his instincts tell him to be afraid, when all that stood before him was a small human woman who often appeared as though she had not had a proper meal or rest in months?

It did not add up. There was something missing, something vital. Thorin straightened and clenched his jaw subconsciously. He would uncover the missing pieces. He had to.

"Aye, I feel it to," Thorin replied. "However, she is on our side, even if it's only temporary. That is enough for now, but," he moved closer and laid a hand on Dwalin's shoulder, "keep an eye on her. Tell me if she does anything suspicious."

Dwalin nodded, seeming satisfied. Then his eyes narrowed and were drawn to something over Thorin's shoulder. He turned to see what Dwalin was staring at, and his eyebrows shot up. It was Vallen, and she was wearing a dress.

Vallen huffed and fiddled with the sleeves that were determined to slip off her shoulders. Her travelling clothes, as well as the pants and shirt she had worn the night before, had been whisked off by the maid for cleaning. All that remained in Vallen's closet were her dresses, and they no longer fit her.

Not for the first time, Vallen wished that it was socially acceptable in the South to be naked, but she still put on the dress before leaving her room that morning. It was a long, pale green thing that had been loose on her before, and, now that she was thinner, the dress was practically baggy. She'd had to cinch up the laces on the back up to the maximum just so that it wouldn't fall off her body when she walked.

No one would've been able to realistically accuse Vallen of being fat before her imprisonment. She'd been muscular for a woman, yet still curvy enough to be attractive to other humans. Now, after fifty years of captivity with him, and a century of little to no appetite, Vallen was thinner than a rail, and it showed.

The sleeve fell off her shoulder again, and Vallen scoffed at it, not even bothering to fix it. She passed a courtyard where the Dwarves were gathered. She noticed Thorin and Dwalin staring at her as she passed, but she ignored them and continued on.

She reached the stables after a few more twists and turns, and the scent of horse and fresh straw washed over her. A familiar knicker greeted her as she went further in, and she turned to see Pril'nut watching her from her stall. A smile broke out across Vallen's face, and she rushed over to wrap her arms around her horse's neck.

"You made it!" Vallen exclaimed, grinning as she rested her head on Pril'nut's thick black mane.

"Ah, so this is your horse, Nadia," a familiar voice said from behind her.

Vallen glanced over at the Elven horse-master who had spoken, still grinning. Falasson was his name. He was a very tall, very handsome Elf with long black hair, dark eyes, and an annoyingly imperious personality. Vallen had never liked him very much in the past, as he was unusually sour-tempered for an Elf. Fortunately, she seemed to have caught him in a fair mood.

She nodded. "Mae govannen, Falasson."

"The same to you, Red Lady." Vallen stiffened, her grin disappearing.

"I am not the Red Lady anymore, Falasson," she said coolly. "Nor am I Nadia. My name is Vallen now."

Falasson raised a black eyebrow in mild curiosity. "There was a rumor, but I did not quite believe it. You have been the Red Lady for nearly a thousand years. Doesn't that life call to you? The danger, the intrigue..." a slow, dark grin spread across his face, "the bloodlust?"

"I was many things in those years, Falasson," Vallen began, forcing herself to keep her cool. "But I was not bloodthirsty. I did what I had to do. Not many can truthfully say the same."

He scoffed. "Oh, so that's why your ripped out their hearts? Because you had to."

Vallen allowed her pupils to narrow and elongate into vertical slits, and she knew that her irises were glowing. The world sharpened and cleared, as though a thick fog had been removed from her eyes. For a moment, Vallen was caught off guard by her superior eyesight, as it had been many years since she had last used it.

She glared coldly at Falasson, who had flinched and was now avoiding her eyes.

"I don't expect someone like you to understand. You're a glorified stable boy who's lived his entire life in these stables. You know nothing of death, but I do," Vallen hissed. "The men I killed were beasts who deserved far worse deaths than the ones I gave them."

Vallen took a sudden step back, flinching as a wave of anger and bloodlust washed over her. She screwed her eyes shut and took a deep, calming breath. Somehow she doubted that Elrond would be too pleased if she snapped and murdered his horse master. When she felt her heart rate return to its normal pace, Vallen opened her eyes and gazed coolly at Falasson, who had taken several steps back and was watching her with wide, fearful eyes.

"Surely you have better things to do than talk to me, Falasson," Vallen growled, getting tired of the Elf's presence by the second. "Why don't you go do them?"

Falasson, like Glorfindel, had a knack for bringing out the worst in Vallen, but, unlike Glorfindel, Falasson knew when he had pushed too far. Without saying a word, he turned and strode out of the stables toward the training ring. The moment he left, Vallen let out a breath she had been holding and allowed her body to relax against Pril'nut's warm neck.

After a moment, Vallen straightened and pulled an apple out of a hidden pocket in her voluminous skirt. She handed the fruit to Pril'nut, who bit into it eagerly.

"Tastes good, doesn't it?" Vallen chuckled. "Well it should. I nicked it from the orchard on my way here, and Elrond's orchards always have the best."

She gently scratched her horse's neck as Pril'nut munched on the last of the apple. Once she was done, she lifted her head and sniffed at Vallen's dress, hoping to get another treat. Vallen smiled.

"Sorry old girl. I don't have anymore." Pril'nut's whinnied and stared at Vallen. "Maybe later, sweetie. First, I've got someone I need to see. I just came to make sure you arrived safely."

Vallen gave Pril'nut a small kiss on the muzzle and strode out of the stables into the sunlit courtyard. She paused for a moment to get her bearing, but she was soon moving again, navigating her way through the various corridors. After several minutes, Vallen paused at the doorway of her destination and breathed in the sweet scent of baking bread.

With a soft sigh, Vallen pushed open the door and was promptly smacked in the face with a ladle. She squeaked in surprise and came face to face with a rather disgruntled looking elf. Elion glared down at Vallen, who was still in shock over being greeted in such a way by her old friend.

"What took you so long? Why haven't you visited, or at least sent a letter?!" he hissed, brandishing his ladle at her threateningly. "One hundred and fifty years, and not one note to let me know that you were even alive! Have you lost your head? Where were you?!"

Vallen stared at Elion in astonished silence. Unlike the other Elves in Rivendell, Elion had an explosive temper that had sent many young Elves running from the kitchens in tears, but after nearly a century and a half, she had forgotten how easily he was angered. She lifted her hands up in the universal sign of surrender and gave Elion a confused look.

"No one told you?" she asked softly.

Elion's light brown eyebrows knit together in frustration, most likely at her lack of response. He'd always hated it when Vallen evaded his questions with another question. However, this time she was not trying to be coy.

"Other than you disappearing like dust thrown to the four winds, no. No one has told me anything," he replied sharply. He caught the dark, troubled look in Vallen's eyes, and his temper visibly deflated. "Nadia? What happened?"

Vallen hesitated. "I was careless, Elion. I… I was caught, and…" she faltered, her expression crumpling slightly. She managed to school her expression to a blank mask before continuing softly, "I managed to get out, but I was too afraid to stay anywhere I could be found. The one who caught me is strong, Elion. Stronger than I could ever be. I had to disappear."

Elion grew pale as he took notice of her unusually thin frame and the obvious fear in her eyes. Vallen knew that he had never seen her like this before, and her changed appearance was unsettling him. Before, she had been intimidating and powerful, now she looked small and frail.

He set the ladle down and reached out to embrace her gently, as though she were made of glass. For once, Vallen's scars did not twinge at the contact, and she gratefully returned the embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Nadia," he whispered to her, his anger completely forgotten.

"So am I, melon," Vallen replied softly as she pulled back. "And that is no longer my name. I am Vallen now."

Elion cocked an eyebrow at her. "Your middle name? Why choose to be called by your middle name? I thought you didn't want to be recognized."

"No one south of the Grey Mountains remembers Nadia Vallen of Forodwaith, if they ever even knew of me at all, Elion," Vallen pointed out sardonically. "Besides, it is mine. The day I give up my name entirely will be the day I am no longer a Dragon."

Elion grinned at her suddenly, as though a particularly mischievous idea had struck him. He stepped back and surveyed Vallen's form with a dissatisfied click of the tongue. Vallen knew immediately what he was doing and she rolled her eyes in amusement.

"Well, you may be a Dragon by blood, but your appearance says otherwise, Vallen." Elion tsked one final time and motioned for her to follow him. "Come! No one except for Elessar has tried my meat dishes, and he's leaving again soon! And you are far too skinny! Come, I'll prepare you breakfast and we'll talk."

Vallen quirked an eyebrow and smiled. "Why don't you serve your special dishes to the Dwarves? They were complaining about there being no meat last night."

Elion laughed heartily, causing Vallen to smile slightly. She had always found the company of Elves to be preferable to most races, but Elion was nothing like his people. He was like sunshine. He was loud, obnoxious, and blunt, and his antics never ceased to amuse her. Not to mention that he was a brilliant cook.

"The poor mortals!" he chuckled as made his way about the kitchen, grabbing various ingredients and spices as he went.. "Lindir ordered me to prepare a normal banquet for last night. He made no mention of Dwarves being the ones I was cooking for. I will have to remedy that for tonight. Sit!"

Vallen obeyed and sat on a stool in the corner, knowing full well that she'd be in his way if she stayed standing. She watched as he worked in concentrated silence for a few minutes, and she grinned when he reached into one of his hidden compartments and brought out a paper-wrapped package that smelled like bacon. Within moments, the meat was sliced and laid in a pan to sizzle deliciously. Vallen breathed in the scent of cooking bacon and sighed contentedly.

"Don't think I didn't notice you neglecting to mention your captor's name," Elion said suddenly. Vallen's grin disappeared and she stiffened. "He must be truly terrifying if you won't even tell me his name."

"He is," she whispered, suppressing a shudder.

"I see." Elion paused to give her a scrutinizing stare, then after a moment he nodded. "Very well, I won't push. This time, anyway."

Vallen relaxed. "Thank you."

Elion opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, a human man opened the door and stepped into the kitchen. He was tall for a human, and he had shoulder-length black hair and bright, blue-grey eyes. If it weren't for his rounded ears and the hint of black stubble on his jaw, Vallen would've thought he was an Elf. He moved with a grace that made her wonder whether or not this young man was related to the Elves here.

"Elessar! I was just talking about you!" Elion proclaimed with a broad smile. "What have you brought me today, melon?"

"Mae govannen. Here is the venison you requested," the man, Elessar, said as he removed a large leather bag from his back and handed it to Elion. Vallen caught the scent of deer blood and meat emanating from the bag.

"Excellent! I will be able to prepare this meat for our guests tonight," Elion grinned. "Perhaps then they will appreciate my cooking. So much of last night's banquet was thrown out! Dreadful!"

"Who were you talking about me with, Elion? There is no one here," Elessar asked, referring to Elion's earlier comment.

Vallen chuckled, startling the human. "He was talking to me."

Elessar whirled around to face her and caught her eyes with a stormy, penetrating stare. Vallen merely smiled pleasantly at him, and she noted for the first time that he wore the dark leather attire of the Dunedain Rangers. A glint of silver caught her eye, and her gaze was drawn to the ring on his finger. Her eyebrows raised at the sight of the familiar ring, the Ring of Barahir. Her eyes snapped back Elessar's face, and she smirked as she realized just who was standing less than ten feet away from her.

"Elessar, this is Vallen, a very old friend of ours," Elion explained. "She used to visit and stay with us many times in the past. Vallen, this is-"

"Aragorn, I know," she interrupted. "Well met, your majesty. It is an honor."

"How do you know my name?" Aragorn demanded coolly, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword.

"Bah! No need to be scared of her, Elessar. She won't hurt you unless you've done something horrible first." Aragorn ignored Elion and continued to stare at Vallen with suspicion.

"If you don't want people to recognize you, never wear anything that will advertise your identity," Vallen replied. "For example, that ring on your finger. Only the heir of Isildur would wear it, and the only surviving person in that lineage is Aragorn the Second. Does this make sense now?"

Aragorn did not relax his stance, nor did his suspicion lower, but he did nod in understanding. A plate full of bacon appeared in front of Vallen, and she tore her attention away from Aragorn to the food set before her. She chuckled and began to eat.

"I see you have again restarted your mission to make me fat, Elion," she teased.

He scoffed. "You never eat enough, Vallen. Every time you return here, you've lost at least twenty pounds through starvation."

"I don't get hungry very often," she said, shrugging as she ate. Vallen glanced up at Aragorn, who was still watching her, tense as a bowstring. "Elion mentioned that you were leaving soon. Will you be travelling north to rejoin your fellow Rangers?"

"Don't ask how she knows that you're a Ranger, Elessar," Elion interjected. Vallen rolled her eyes and said nothing.

"I will leave by the end of the week," he replied, still on his guard.

"Well, I wish you good luck and fortune. Be careful as well. If you are anything like your ancestors were, it would be a tragedy to lose you," Vallen said seriously.

"I- thank you, my lady." The compliment seemed to make him uncomfortable, as Aragorn's body turned even more rigid with unease. Vallen noted the change with interest. "I ought to be going. Lord Elrond wished to see me."

And with that, Aragorn turned to the door and was gone. Vallen watched him leave with curiosity. The moment she'd mentioned his ancestors, the young man had shut down. It was interesting.

The moment Vallen popped the last bit of bacon into her mouth, her plate was whisked away by Elion and set with a small pile of other dirty dishes before she could move to do it herself. She glared up at him, but he did not notice. Elion was rushing around the kitchen, setting out various pots and pans. He was no doubt preparing for the banquet that night.

"Do you need any help?"

Elion shook his head vehemently. "The other cooks will be here shortly to help, and I don't trust you around food. You always overcook or undercook everything. If you think I've forgiven you for destroying the pies for the Autumn Festival, you're mistaken." Vallen snickered at the accusing tone in his voice.

"That was over five hundred years ago! I've gotten better since then!" He shot her a disbelieving glare. She sighed in exasperation. Elion never let go of grudges, especially when it came to food. "Alright fine! Have it your way."

"Thank you," Elion snapped at her.

Vallen shook her head, grinning slightly. She was about to turn to leave, when the familiar scent of cream of mushroom soup wafted before her nose. An idea occurred to her and she smirked.

"Do you still have the soup you made for me last night?" she asked, knowing the answer already.

"Of course."

"Might I have a bowl to take with me?"

It was nearly noon when she found Thorin wandering the halls near the bedchambers. No, not wandering, she noticed after a moment. Searching.

"You won't find the Arkenstone here, no matter how long you search the ground," she said casually, and was disappointed to see that he hadn't jumped at her silent approach.

"Keep your voice down, the Elves don't need to know about our quest. I'm searching for ways out of Rivendell other than the way we entered, in case they are not as trustworthy as they seem." He turned to face her and frowned at the covered bowl in her hand.

"The Elves have no reason to betray you. All they know is that a group of Dwarves has come to eat and rest and be on their way again without much trouble. Though I'm sure Lord Elrond would pose a problem if he found out about our quest. Should this happen, and he tries to stop us, there is a tunnel in the lowest section of the library, leading to the base of the waterfalls. That is the escape you are looking for." She uncovered the bowl and offered it to him. "Mushroom soup. Much better and nourishing than the greens they tried to feed you recently."

She was almost tempted to smash the bowl in his face when he suspiciously glared at it, as if she was offering him poisonous food. Instead, she shoved it against his chest, forcing him to grab it.

"Yes, it was made by Elves. No, it is not poisonous. They are currently under the impression that I'm eating it, and I don't think they have any reason to poison me."

He seemed to consider this information for a moment, then he finally gave an earnest, "Thank you."

They walked down the hall in silence for a moment while Thorin tested the soup carefully, seeming surprised when he actually found it quite tasty. But then again, the last meal they could've considered tasty was at Bilbo's house, something that seemed to have happened an eternity ago.

A small part of her hoped they would stay at least until she got her full strength back, and perhaps was able to fit into the dresses in her bedchamber again. Being fragile and bony had its consequences, especially if they had to fight their way to Erebor. Gaining weight and adding some more color to her cheeks would also partially erase the evidence of the time she had been imprisoned. It would give her a greater chance to forget parts of the nightmare she had to live through.

Thorin almost startled her when he spoke, as she had almost forgotten that he was there. She hated how this place always got her lost in thought without warning; she needed to stay focused. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but why do the Elves here seem wary of you? I've noticed they seem to treat my people different than they treat you."

"Well," Vallen sighed, pretending not to notice how his eyes betrayed his suspicion as he tried to appear nonchalant, "I'm sure everyone would feel uncomfortable if a small, sinister looking person with piercing eyes wandered their home for an unknown reason. Especially if that person is easy to miss, with silent movements, and is a part of a large group of Dwarves, a Hobbit, and a Wizard, all of which appeared completely out of the blue." It definitely wasn't because she was a dragon, she had to add this in her thoughts or she would have said it out loud.

Thorin simply 'hmph'ed at that, unsatisfied, but he didn't push the subject further. Instead, he took another spoonful of soup. Vallen could practically feel him becoming more and more impatient. She wondered if he ever had a moment where he wasn't suspicious of anything, and realized she couldn't imagine him ever just being...calm. That gave her an idea.

"I never actually heard much about Erebor from before the Dragon attack." She said, realizing just how true that was. "All I know is 'lost kingdom this', 'evil dragon that', but...I would like that vision in my head to change. What I would like to know, if you don't mind, is what your kingdom was like before ruin and destruction. Surely there was a time of peace for your people, where it seemed as if the good days would never end?"

He didn't answer, and instead frowned disapprovingly at her attempt to change the subject. But she was determined, and pushed further,

"Erebor was assumed to have been quite famous, thriving, as prosperous as a city by a powerful kingdom could be. I've been in a few cities in those positions, however, and I've found them to be full of political struggles, selfish nobles looking down on the poor, basically a city at war. Was Erebor a peaceful kingdom?"

"Yes. It was." That had done the trick. He looked surprised at first at how quick he had been to defend his city, but with a sigh, his gaze grew distant as he thought back to better days. She did it. He looked calmer. "We always made sure to keep our people safe, and any disputes were taken care of quickly, in the safest possible way. Travelers would come from all over to barter with our merchants. It was peaceful, and beautiful."

He took another spoonful of soup and started pacing slowly, lost in thought. "We were fortunate to be ruling where we did, it seemed as if the riches within that mountain would never end, and so the city would never stop thriving, and the citizens seemed to always be content with what we had given them, and they made good use of it. Our crafts were some of the finest."

Something clicked in Vallen's head, and she looked down at her necklace. She had worn it for so long under her travel clothes she failed to register it most of the time, as if it was a part of her body. She held it for a moment, marveling at the detail of it. It was a polished emerald, nearly the color of her eyes in the center of a small lotus flower made of silver. From the base of the lotus flower grew two silver vines winding into the chain she wore, and she was surprised to see it still looked as it did the day it was given to her. Thorin glanced at her when the necklace caught his eye. She thought she saw faint recognition in his eyes and he frowned slightly.

"That necklace looks familiar." he murmured.

"It was made in Dale, by one of your people, I believe." She held it so he could see it clearly. "A good friend of mine once traveled to your town and brought it back as a gift to me. He said that the Dwarven lady he got it from had made it herself from the gems within the mountain." A small smile formed on her lips as she remembered. "I fell in love with it as soon as I laid eyes on it."

He nodded, his gaze softening as he regarded the necklace more closely. "I did too the first time I saw it at the stand. I would wander the streets of the city occasionally, during times when my father and grandfather would look after the workers in the mountain, and though I would often stop by the blacksmiths and examine their weapons, there was only one time I stopped at a jewelry stand. I had considered buying it for a dear friend of mine, but... I was called back to the mountain for a meeting and forgot about it afterwards."

He met her eye, and hesitated. She had the feeling he was considering saying something that was very much unlike him, and it was proven right when a determined glimmer appeared in his eyes and he said smoothly, "I do not regret not having bought it now - I don't think it would look more beautiful on anyone else."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise and she found herself unable to come up with a clever remark for the first time in... many years. Instead, a smile unwillingly formed on her lips and she looked down, embarrassed and utterly unprepared for this unexpected advance. This broody king had actually managed to say the nicest thing anyone had said to her in decades, after they had been at each other's throats for the longest time, and...how would she handle it? Was she supposed to handle it? She knew she had to reply soon.

She looked back up at him - he actually looked amused at her flustered reaction! - and took a deep breath to calm herself enough to think clearly. "I- thank you, Thorin. I'm not used to receiving compliments. ...I apologize for my slow reaction."

His expression became a little troubled. "You are a princess. Did no one pay you any compliments when you were home?"

She chuckled. "Was a princess. And...not quite. Well, occasionally yes, but my attitude spoke much louder than my actual appearance, and so I was there more to provide unnecessary commentary and loads of sarcasm than serving as an actual heir to a throne."

"That seems more appropriate. Though I do not know you very well, I believe you wear your sarcasm better than that dress."

Oh ho. She was about to retort, but instead couldn't stop herself from laughing. Thorin chuckled as well, and Vallen felt a tinge of pride at having finally gotten the unfortunate king to enjoy himself at least for a moment. Even if it was in a valley full of Elves.

Her sensitive ears picked up a growling a distance away. Dwalin seemed to disapprove quite a bit, yet he slunk away, grumbling, and she knew she would receive glares from him later.

They talked away until the evening about his home and occasionally about how their fathers would make them do the same things, even treat them the same way. They would occasionally joke about the behavior of the Elves they'd met on their travels, even in front of passing Elves. Thorin would glare at every Elf that would walk past them, but he would try to distract himself again by asking her a question or recalling something from his past. Even he finally seemed to realize that he would need to rest and lighten up in order to prepare for the rest of their journey.

The sun had barely disappeared below the horizon when they were interrupted by a musical, yet mocking voice calling to them, "Here we have two heirs to two thrones chattering away on yet another beautiful summer evening. Has the lady Vallen found her future mate at last?"

"I would be a large step ahead of you if that were the case," Vallen shot back, calmly turning to face the calamity she believed had sold his soul to make the water perfectly reflect the light on him once again. "None of the Elves in Middle Earth seem to have enough beauty for the mighty Glorfindel, it seems."

"I disagree."

"Perhaps there are none who can stomach one always too eager to show off their prowess in battle, rather than prove they have a heart." Thorin grumbled, and Vallen fought to hold back a snort. Glorfindel was a huge show-off, and it amused her how easily Thorin had picked up on that.

The Elf frowned slightly. "I know how to charm a person and show my affection. If there is something that my love interests, I would not hesitate to get it."

"You would not know how to stop them from crying if someone were to have broken their heart; in fact, I think you would start crying along with them!" Vallen mocked, chuckling at the thought of a wailing Glorfindel sitting next to a love interest.

"You mock me, yet I can promise you I have mended several broken hearts before."

"Most likely with gifts and jewelry, rather than words." Thorin cut in. Vallen bit back another snort and forced her expression to neutrality.

"Hopefully not with that outfit," she said disdainfully, "Or with your usual personality as a matter of fact."

"You are not implying I am rude?"

"Not at all! You have made me feel so welcome all these years that I have come to visit! All those times you've mocked me, they have made me feel so loved!"

The tall Elf frowned and crossed his arms. "I have stood up for you many times in the past decades!"

"It would have been easier for me if you had stayed seated, for I have never felt the benefits of your support, or heard of you ever vouching for me." She gave him an accusing glare.

"I would prefer it if you two ladies would not come to blows, it is getting late." Thorin announced, seeming to be torn between being uncomfortable and yet amused at this endeavour.

Glorfindel narrowed his eyes at him. "I am a male."

"Forgive me, you carry yourself like a female, so I assumed-"

Vallen burst out laughing, and knew right away when Thorin glanced at her that he was all too aware of Glorfindel's gender from the beginning, and she enjoyed this conversation even more.

"Enough! I am here to deliver a message from Lord Elrond."

"Oh, and here I thought we would be discussing your imaginary relationship all night." Vallen said, mock-sighing in relief.

Glorfindel's eyebrow twitched, and he was about to retort, when Thorin cut him off. "What is the message?"

"He wishes to discuss your journey with Gandalf and the rest of your company tonight, and I am to inform you that we shall have a feast together again tomorrow."

Thorin and Vallen's expressions turned somber, and they looked at each other uneasily.

"Why so serious? It is just a feast. Though I remember your kind are not very fond of the food. Both your kind and Vallen's." When she glared at him, he gave a sigh. "Well, I have taken about enough of feeling unwelcome in my own home. Good night, may you have peaceful dreams tonight. I shall see you in the morning." And with that, he was off.

Thorin frowned, thankfully he was too focused on the message than what Glorfindel had said afterwards. Vallen said, "Do not worry too much about it. He could help us, or we could easily escape and be on our way faster than they'll be able to react. Our mission is too important for us to be stuck here."

He simply nodded, then turned to her. She thought he seemed a bit regretful. "Thank you for what you did today. I feel better after having talked about my home from so long ago, after having thought of that dragon and that day all these years. I may never again see Erebor as it was once was, but...it's good to keep the memory alive." He sighed. "And...I'm sorry I mistrusted you as I did since we had first met. I just, I thought I had a bad feeling about you, but now I know I was wrong. I am glad to have you with us." He gave a small, yet earnest smile, and Vallen returned it.

"I understand. People naturally get suspicious of me, because...well, that's just a part of me I suppose, a part of my appearance as well. And I am glad to be a part of this journey. Thank you for letting me come with you, Thorin."

And I pray you never find out what gave you those bad feelings about me. She added in her head, the guilt growing powerful within her.

"You are welcome, Vallen. And thank you for being patient with me. I..." Thorin hesitated. "I know that I can be challenging at times. Especially with those I do not know well."

Vallen laughed suddenly. "It would appear that we are not so different after all, as neither of us are particularly easy to get along with."

Thorin arched his eyebrows at her, but there was an amused gleam in his blue eyes. He crossed his arms and sent her a stern glare.

"You did not have to agree with me, woman," he said, not seeming at all sincere.

"Oh, you'll survive," Vallen replied with a smirk. "And I'll like you better if you stop calling me that and use my name. I'm sure Gandalf would not be pleased if I harmed you over simple nomenclature."

The threat was no made seriously, and it was clear that Thorin did not take it so. However, something in his expression shifted. Curiosity flickered across his eyes, and he tilted his head to the side slightly as he regarded her carefully.

"Your name means that much to you when it is not your given one?" he mused. "Tell me, what does it mean?"

Vallen raised an eyebrow at him. "'Strong'. It means 'strong'. Either that, or 'filled with rage'. Though, the two often mean the same thing in my language."

Thorin chuckled softly. "The name certainly suits you. I am surprised that your father would bestow such a name on a small child. I can only imagine what sort of nightmare you must have been to deserve the name, 'filled with rage'."

Vallen burst out laughing, amused at his misunderstanding. She wouldn't have put it past her father to do something like that if she or her sister acted like brats. After a moment, she calmed down enough to speak, shaking her head.

"Nadia is the name I was given at my birth. Vallen was the name that my people gave me after my first border skirmish," she explained. "You'll see why if we ever run into a real battle. I tend to lose my head a bit when I'm fighting a lot of opponents. You southerners call it bloodlust."

"That is not so uncommon, Vallen," Thorin replied, leaning casually against a pillar. "All warriors experience that in the heat of battle."

You haven't seen a dragon in the heat of battle before. You'll understand then. Vallen held her tongue, but the thought still burned at the forefront of her mind. Instead of giving it voice, she smiled and shook her head slightly.

"Perhaps," she said.

Thorin suddenly looked away from Vallen, as though reminded of something. He stared off at the horizon over the valley with a frown. Then he turned back to her.

"We must meet with our host now. It is getting late, and he will want answers," Thorin announced, straightening up. "Damn the wizard for bringing us here."

Vallen blinked and stood up, just then noticing how much time had passed. The sun hung low in the sky, casting an orange light over the valley. How many hours had she been speaking with Thorin? It had felt like almost no time at all had passed.

"Yes, I suppose it is time to go, isn't it?" she said. "Shall we?"

A/N: Holy cow! Has it been almost a year since we've last updated? Yikes. Sorry about that! Life has been getting in the way for both of us. Kokonoa's job keeps her extremely busy, and Faela's first semester of college has been very busy as well.

We are not giving up on this story. It will very likely take us a while to write and put the new chapters up because of, well, life. But we will put them up, and the story will be finished. Eventually.

Anyways, thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews! We love you guys, you're the best!

For this chapter, we decided to try out a different POV with Thorin at the beginning. We may decide to bring more of his perspective into the story, although that depends on how much you all like his perspective. So please let us know if you want more of him.

Next chapter may be the last one set in Rivendell, depending on what we try to stuff in it. Maybe it's just my imagination, but the chapters seem to be getting longer... hmm.

And, as always, leave us a review and let us know what you think! We love to hear your feedback. Until next time! :)