An older dwarf stood over an anvil while swinging a heavy hammer. With each motion the hot iron was forced into submission to eventually become a useful tool. Small beads of sweat gathered just above the dwarf's brow. A long forked beard met with white hair to frame the soft face and gentle eyes.

He wasn't aware of the presence leaning against the doorframe watching him. A dwarf with long hair that had once been the colour of the night sky which now held prominent streaks of grey and silver. Two braids hung framing his face with small dwarven beads at the ends. Unlike most dwarves this one had only a short beard, just enough to cover the skin on his jaw. A kind smile graced the tired face as he watched the older dwarf work.

Eventually, the metal began to cool from under the hammer causing Balin to take a pause. Glancing up from his work he noticed the familiar figure waiting for him.

"Thorin!" He smiled broadly, discarding his tools. "Lad! It's good to see you!" He approached him, clasping the dwarven King's arm.

"Balin." The soft smile became a cheerful grin. "How have you been?"

"You know." Balin gestured over his shoulder, "working, but I doubt that is why you are here."

"No." Thorin chuckled.

"So what is it an old dwarf can do for his King?" Balin led him over to a small table which sat in the far corner, on it sat two cups and a jug of water.

"We are going to retake Erebor." Thorin's words were firm, certain.

"Are you sure?" Balin felt a twinge of fear catch in his chest.

"Ravens have been seen going back to the mountain." Thorin stated, leaning forward onto the table with a gleam in his eye. "I am gathering those who are willing, and I trust, to come with me."

"We need an army behind us." Balin pointed out. He could see the determination in his King's face.

"I will meet with our kin, they'll bring an army." Thorin leaned back. "Will you come?"

"Of course, lad." Balin gave a soft sigh and a chuckle. "One more adventure for this old dwarf?"

"You're not old." Thorin smiled, but Balin raised a sceptial eyebrow.

"When are we leaving?" He asked with a tilt of the head.

"Meet me in the Shire in three weeks," Thorin stated, pulling a piece of parchment from his pocket. "Look for this symbol." Without looking, Balin took the parchment and placed it in his pocket.

"Who will meet us there?"

"Dwalin," Thorin said. "Gloin, a few others, Fili and Kili are determined to come."

"Fili perhaps." Balin stated.

"We'll see." Thorin shrugged.

From what Balin knew of Thorin's nephews, they were just as determined as their uncle. He'd met the young princes once a few years prior and both reminded him of a younger Thorin, stubborn and brave.

There was a pause as Thorin's face suddenly grew somber. The smile faded and a slight crease formed in between his brows. "Balin," he started with an emotional edge to his voice. "Do you know where she is?"

Balin stared at him for a moment confused.

"Frin." Thorin said seeing his friend's expression. "We'll need her.

The older dwarf was immediately filled with sorrow at the memory of the young warrior. "Thorin," he said, the grief clear in his voice. "She cannot help us."

"Why?" Thorin scoffed, not noticing the expression on the face across from him. "She said she would, she gave her word."

"She can't." Balin whispered across the table but Thorin ignored his words.

"What was I thinking?" His temper rose. "She's an elf. I was right to cast her out. She wouldn't help us even if I asked, even if I begged."

"Frin's gone." Balin's voice called to him firmly.

Thorin froze, the anger still contorting his features. His eyes searched Balin for the truth but when all he saw was the tearful eyes. "What do you mean gone?"

"She died."

The realization hit him, sending a flood of memories into his mind. He saw her smile, her laugh. He remembered her embrace, her touch. "How?" He demanded, almost choking on his own voice.

"After Moria," Balin started, the tears starting to fall.

"She was there?" Thorin interrupted, his blue eyes searching his friend's face.

"Yes. I asked her to come."

"I didn't see her."

"Would you have wanted to at the time?" Balin pressed him with a frown.

There was a moment of heavy silence as Thorin's eyes fell to the wood of the table. He remembered his anger and hatred. He knew the truth and it was unbearable.

"She saved my life," Balin smiled to himself, "she was magnificent. When Thror was defeated, I saw her cut down thirty orcs to get to you but they were so many." He looked up into the face of the young dwarf he had known for centuries.

"The day I became King." Thorin muttered to himself, remembering the sorrow he felt that day.

"You were always her King." Balin answered.

Thorin felt a jolt of pain in his chest at his friend's words. "Go on." He urged him.

"After Moria, she headed to Rivendell hoping to find more people like herself."

"Elves?" There was mistrust in Thorin's voice as he asked the question.

"No," Balin sighed. "Anyone half dwarven and elven, like her. She believed they may be there."

Thorin nodded, his face softening again. He understood what she was longing for.

"On her way to the elven refuge," Balin continued, "she was attacked by a band of orcs. Thorin, I saw her fight. She was excellent but there were too many of them. When the elves found her she was already half dead."

"She made it." There was a false sense of hope in Thorin's voice.

"Yes, for a moment, but even elvish medicine couldn't save her." The tears started to trickle from Balin's eyes again. Looking up at Thorin with the intense weight of sorrow on him, he choked out, "she would've come with us."

There was a sudden pain, tightness in Thorinn's chest. He wasn't prepared. It wasn't right. "Balin, I threw her away." His voice caught as he struggled to keep his grief contained. "How did you come to know this?"

"Because she did find them, people like her. Ten years ago a Lass showed up here asking for me. She had dark hair and a serious countenance. She had ears like any elf but had the bearing of a dwarf, covered in tattoos. She told me and delivered these letters."

Balin stood up and walked across the small forge to a chest which lay in a corner. When he returned to Thorin with two letters in his hands.

Placing a single letter on the table, Balin sat holding another piece of parchment in his hands. On it Thorin's name was clearly written. Thorin, King Under the Mountain. "I knew, one day, you would want to read it."

Silently, Thorin took the letter in his hands. "Thank you for telling me." He said gruffly, while standing to leave. "I'll see you in a few weeks."

Balin nodded, knowing Thorin needed time.

The dwarven King left the forge with the letter held tightly in his hand. Quickly, he strode out of the marketplace, through the entrance to the Blue Mountains and into the nearby forest. The sun was still high in the sky, casting light through the slight cloud cover.

Once he was nestled in the trees, alone, he allowed himself to slump to the ground. An involuntary sob escaped his mouth. He stared at the parchment in his hands finally allowing himself to stare at the script. The curvature of the letters was so familiar despite the centuries passing. It was her, undeniably her.

Carefully he opened the letter not wanting to rip the delicate parchment.

Thorin,

I don't know if you will ever read this but I am writing it for the both of us. I love you Thorin. I loved you when you were a boy and a prince. I've just left Moria and I can say that I have loved you as a King.

I heard the name they gave you, Thorin Oakenshield. It suits you well. The dwarf I saw leading his people was the person I always knew you were. That was why I never begged you to leave it all behind. They need you more than I do. I know you will do right by our people. You have more honor than most and determination.

One day you will reclaim Erebor, our home. I hope you will call upon me once more. If not, I will rejoice in your victory. I hope one day you will see me as the friend you once did. I know you never loved me but I will forever love you.

I am at your service.

Frin, Daughter of Mountain and Forest

As he read, a few tears escaped, falling onto the paper. His eyes stared at her name as an impossible numbness filled him.

"I…" His voice was barely a whisper. "I...loved you but now I am too late, forgive me."

THE END