Disclaimer: The Hobbit and its people and places are copyright to its creators. Kelda, Sitheiyra and the Skyfolk are mine.

Kelda sat on top of the overlook, looking down at the camp. In the glow of the fire Fili and Kili were tending the skyling could make out the forms of all of the company below. Most of them were sleeping with only a few exceptions: the Durin brothers, who were still on watch, Gandalf, who seemed to take very little sleep, and Bilbo, who had wandered over to where the ponies stood.

"This is quite the group you have gathered here, Kelda," said the tall skyling man who was sitting beside her. Kelda hadn't noticed when he'd shown up, nor did she find herself alarmed at his sudden appearance.

"They're a good group. Fun, loyal, determined. They are each an example of all the good in dwarves, a reminder of why I've so missed that life." Kelda looked over at the man sitting next to her, taking in his vibrant red plumage and piercing eyes that seemed to change in color with every passing moment. "Do you know Erebor? Do you know the great shining halls of stone bathed in golden light? Have you felt the warmth and cheer of its halls? The feeling of comfort and safety? I never once thought that it might all be lost. It never crossed my mind that there was some power in this world that could take it all away."

"I know it well. It was a chance at home for the People. Mountain or no mountain, the dwarves of Erebor were the Sky Folk's chance to rebuild what once was. The Queen never should have parted ways from them, but I hardly need to tell you that. Were you conscious, I'm certain you never would have let her make that decision without a fight."

"Mother never would have listened to me, whether I was awake or not. She was so intent on blaming the dwarves for our own misfortunes, so obsessed with taking back the Throne of Stars. Not even Father could sway her. She would have listened to Shalix. If he had been there everything would have been okay…it should be him leading our people."

"What do you think your brother would say to that?"

"It doesn't matter. It should have been me who died and he who lived." Kelda said, uncertain how she was so calm, considering the current topic, or why she was even telling this stranger her thoughts. She felt like he was trustworthy, like she could tell him anything. "Shalix was always the strong one, the favored one. He was a strategist and a natural leader; he was Lopti's chosen! If he were here we would have found a place for our people, we wouldn't be wandering the wilds like a roving pack of dogs. It should be him here, helping the dwarves of Erebor to reclaim their home, not me."

"You know Thorin Oakenshield would hardly have accepted any help from Shalix; he couldn't stand your brother, nor could Shalix stand him. But, little bird," the man said, his reassuring tone making her look back to him. His voice sounded strangely familiar, but she couldn't quite place where she knew it from, and where had she seen that bright red plumage before? "There's one thing that they could always agree on: your importance to them, to this world. You are stronger than you realize and know this, Kelda, Queen of Skies, if you were not here this quest would fail. Without you the King Under the Mountain will fall."

"But-"

"You are needed, more than you can ever understand," the skyling insisted gently. "By your people, by the dwarves of Erebor, by that Mountain King that holds your heart. None of them will find what they seek without you."

"I don't think I can do it," Kelda answered quietly, a wave of anxiety gripping her. She looked down at her hands, picking at her nails. "I don't think I can do it alone."

"Alone? Look around you, Kelda," he said, motioning with a hand to the camp around them. The two skylings were no longer sitting up on the overlook, but now instead stood in the midst of the company; Kelda couldn't quite remember when they had moved, but as red feathered stranger continued speaking the need to question it left her mind. "If you truly believe that you are alone, then you have not been paying attention. You said it yourself; these are good, brave, loyal folk who will be there when you need them, as you will be there when they need you. If they do not already count you as one of their own they shall by the end. You know there is at least one who already does."

"You sound so certain of that," Kelda said with a sigh, glancing over at where Thorin slept sitting up against the rock face. "Why can't I be so sure?"

"That is a fair question, little bird," he said, using a finger to tilt her head back so she was looking at him. "One that you should explore further, once you wake up."

"Orcs?"

Kelda jolted awake at Bilbo's loud whisper, immediately sitting up to look around. She was still safely encircled by Sitheiyra's talons, exactly where she had been when she'd fallen asleep earlier that night. A quick check around the area revealed no sign of the familiar stranger, not one red feather or a trace of latent magic to be found. It had only been a dream.

More than a dream, Sitheiyra said sagely, the perk of her foxlike ears the only indication that the gryphon was awake. Kelda merely sighed; she would be getting no more sleep this night. Of that she could be certain.

"Throat-cutters," Fili could be heard saying to Bilbo. "There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them."

"They strike in the wee small hours, when everyone's asleep." Kili added solemnly. "Quick and quiet, no screams, just lots of blood."

As Bilbo looked out into the darkness in fright, Kelda watched Fili and Kili look at each other and laugh quietly. The skyling woman frowned slightly; she did not see how terrifying the poor hobbit was funny, nor did she find the topic of orcs laughable either. Orcs were not some made up monsters under the bed. They were not merely a part of tales parents told their children at night to keep them in line. She'd lost plenty of her own people to the creatures over the years. She'd seen the damage they could do. Kelda contemplated chastising the brothers for their poor humor, but decided to stay quiet as she saw Thorin stand up and glower over at them. Apparently the conversation had wakened him and Kelda had little doubt that the wrath of their uncle would be more effective than anything she might have said to them.

"You think that's funny?" Thorin asked, his tone causing Fili and Kili to immediately stop laughing. "You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

"We didn't mean anything by it," Kili replied sheepishly, looking down at the ground.

"No, you didn't. You know nothing of the world." Thorin growled as he walked past them, stopping at the edge of the cliff to look over the valley, his back to the camp. Kelda watched the dwarf for a short moment before standing and heading over to the overlook, which she deftly scaled. She sat down at the top, where she had been with the stranger in her dream, and looked down at the camp as Balin walked over to where Fili and Kili were.

"Don't mind him, laddie," the older dwarf said to Kili. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first."

As Kelda listened from her perch up on the overlook, for a brief moment she thought she felt the presence of the stranger again, but it was gone as soon as it had come. It was replaced, however, by a sudden searing ache behind her eyes. The skyling sucked in a breath as the pain intensified and her sight became fuzzy, before fading to black entirely.

When her vision returned, she found herself staring not at the company's camp, but at a massive battlefield where thousands of dwarves and orcs battled outside the great stone gates of Moria. The Battle of Azanulbizar, a male voice supplied; it was the stranger's, she realized, and the same one that she had heard at the beginning of their journey during her panic attack, but she didn't have a moment to consider it as the vision continued. She could see a young Thorin, his father Thrain and his grandfather Thror battling through wave after wave of orcs. She saw Balin and Dwalin as well, all of them younger and fighting fiercely against their foes. Nearby them, a massive pale skinned orc swung his great mace, wiping out multiple dwarves with each swing before turning to engage King Thror in battle.

"Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs led by the most vile of all their race: Azog the Defiler." Kelda heard Balin saying, his voice sounding distorted and distant to her ears. "The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by beheading the king."

As the battle continued to rage around him, Kelda watched the pale orc, Azog the Defiler, raise the head of the king into the air with a roar of victory. Horror gripped her as she watched the orc throw Thror's head through the air to land at Thorin's feet. She watched as a look of agony flashed over the dwarf prince's face at seeing his grandfather's head on the ground in front of him.

"Noooo!" He cried as he looked up from Thror's head to the pale Orc.

"Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief," Balin continued. "He went missing, taken prisoner or killed we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us. That is when I saw him: a young dwarf prince facing down the Pale Orc."

As Balin said this, Kelda watched as Thorin faced Azog down. In spite of his valiance, the fight was not going well for the dwarf prince; the skyling could only observe helplessly as the great orc swung his mace once, knocking away Thorin's shield, and then again, tearing his sword out of his hand and sending him rolling down an embankment. As Azog leaped to finish him, Thorin, grabbing an oak branch that lay next to him on the ground, managed to roll away before the orc's mace smashed the spot where the dwarf had only just been.

"He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armor rent…wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield."

As Balin's words echoed through Kelda's head Azog continued to wield his great mace against Thorin who, despite still laying prone on the ground, blocked the orc's mace with the branch he held. Azog raised his arm to take another swing, but Kelda saw Thorin grab a sword that was lying nearby on the ground. The dwarf prince swung the sword up with all his might, cutting off Azog's mace arm just below the elbow. The great orc grabbed the stump of his arm and howled in agony.

"Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken."

With Azog being rushed into Moria by other orcs, Thorin stood and, looking to his fleeing comrades, raised his sword in the air, shouting 'Du Bekâr!' The dwarves stopped running and rallied to him, returning to battle and fighting viciously against the enemy orcs. Seeming to have regained the advantage, the dwarves beat the enemy force back.

The battle was suddenly ripped away from Kelda then, and she was thrown back into herself, into the present where she sat atop the overhang. The company's camp was down below her; they were all awake now, she could see, and listening to Balin's tale.

"Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated," the skyling heard Balin say, in spite of the way her head pounded and her ears rang. "But there was no feast, no song that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived and I thought to myself, there is one I could follow. There is one I could call king."

Kelda looked to where Thorin stood at the edge of the cliff and as he turned back around to face the camp, she was not the only one to stare. Every dwarf in the company was awake and on their feet, looking at Thorin in awe. He regarded the group for a brief moment before walking between them toward the fire.

"But the pale orc?" Bilbo asked from where he still sat by the campfire, looking between Balin and Thorin. "What happened to him?"

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came," Thorin answered as he walked past the halfling. "That filth died of his wounds long ago."

Kelda glanced away then, looking at her hands in her lap. She probably should have been more concerned about why she had just seen a vision of a battle she had not been at, but she had a feeling she knew what had caused it, or rather who. He'd been following her, for how long she did not know, but she'd only started to become aware of it after she'd joined the Company. The voice during her panic attack, the flash of red feathers in the forest; they'd been clues to his presence.

You believe you should have been there, at the battle for Moria. You believe you should have been there for many things. You feel that you were not there when you were most needed and therefore are undeserving of any comfort he might give. Kelda heard the stranger's voice intone in her head as she watched Thorin. The skyling woman didn't immediately respond; she wasn't entirely sure she had to. She continued to feel the pressure of his presence; it was heaviness in the atmosphere, similar to that of the calm before a storm. He felt like a force of nature.

I think I know who you are, Kelda finally answered, ignoring what he had said altogether, in spite of the truth of his words. You are He Who Walks in Air, he who granted wings to my people so we might know what it is to have true freedom. You are the Sky, he who loves the Stone, but can never touch her. The weather is your weapon, the wind your messenger. You are Lopti. What need have you of me?

Kelda could feel the god's smirk in her mind. She could very nearly see those ever changing eyes looking upon her with cool amusement. She felt his approval, as if blatantly ignoring his words was what he had been looking for; it made no sense.

The intentions of gods very rarely make sense to mortal minds, Kelda heard Sitheiyra say. The gryphon did not seem at all concerned with the situation. In fact, she sounded as if she was drifting back off to sleep. Many of the others had done so; there were still several hours of darkness left before the dawn would come. In the flickering light of the fire, the only movement Kelda could see came from Thorin's shadowed form; he moved at the edge of camp, just beyond the touch of the light. It seemed that he had relieved Fili and Kili from watch duty.

He made two promises, one to you and one to your brother. Now that he is able, you should let him keep them, Lopti said as Kelda watched the dwarf prince once again stand at the cliff's edge and look out over the valley. She frowned slightly, her brow furrowing at the Sky God's words.

What promise did he make my brother?

The only answer that came was the soft rustling of the wind in the trees and Kelda breathed a small sigh. The god was gone, at least from her perception. She wasn't really surprised by his strange actions and vague, seemingly pointless statements. In fact, she was baffled that he had contacted her directly at all. Often times even those who worked most closely with the gods received nothing more than unclear signs for answers.

He must believe this to be of utmost importance, then, to have come to you so obviously, Sitheiyra said drowsily. Heed him.

I will do as I please, god or no god, Kelda responded hotly, shooting a glare down at the Muzmulomil, still curled up where she had been all night. The gryphon simply hummed in amusement.

And it would please you to go and speak with your Mountain King.

Kelda continued to glower over at Sitheiyra for a moment longer, but then she relented with a sigh. Standing, she brushed herself off before going to the edge of the overlook and leaping off. Her wings snapped open and she glided easily over the camp and its sleeping inhabitants before landing a foot or so behind Thorin.

"You should be sleeping," Thorin said quietly as Kelda came to stand beside him. The skyling shrugged her shoulders, shaking her wings out before once again folding them neatly against her back.

"Can't," she answered simply. She paused for a moment, glancing at the dwarf from the corner of her eye before continuing. "I never thanked you."

"For what?"

That was a loaded question, one that could have had a very long answer. She could have thanked him for saving her life, after she had been nearly killed by Smaug's flame and her brother was gone; the dwarves and the Sky Folk had gone their separate ways long before she had awoken and she hadn't seen him since. She wanted to thank him for letting her join the company, for giving her the chance at revenge and home. She wanted to thank him for staying alive long enough for her to see him again, but those were all very sensitive, emotionally charged things that she wasn't sure she was prepared to say.

"A lot of things," the skyling admitted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other restlessly. To mask her nervous movements, Kelda sat herself down on the ground, letting her legs dangle over the cliff's edge. "But for the sake of simplicity, I'll go ahead and say the strawberries."

"They were an apology," Thorin answered, short and to the point. Kelda smiled a bit as she kicked her legs over the open air; he had never been one to dance around the subject. After having to deal with the game of words that the Elders liked to play for so long, she found that his blunt honesty was refreshing.

"I know. That doesn't mean I can't thank you for them."

"Hm. Well, then, for the sake of simplicity, I'll go ahead and say you're welcome for the strawberries," he said, glancing down at her. Kelda laughed lightly, looking up at him for a brief moment before patting the ground next to her.

"Sit with me? I know we're on watch, but the wards I set up will alert us if anything's coming and I just thought…well we haven't really had a chance to talk yet," Kelda sighed and began to pick at her nails nervously. "That's mostly my fault, I know. I've kind of been avoiding it."

"I'd noticed."

"And yet you didn't say anything?" Kelda asked, watching as the dwarf sat down beside her, though he made quite certain to put a bit of space between himself and the cliff's edge.

"I wished to, but Balin advised me otherwise, thought that I should give you some time. I decided to heed him. However, I was beginning to think that you had no want to speak with me at all."

That went a long way to explain why he'd been so grouchy with her, Kelda thought, and she felt a small wave of relief. That gave her one less reason for doubt, though it only added to her guilt. She'd spent the entire trip so far deflecting his every attempt at speaking with her about them, then after every attempt she'd avoid him for a bit for good measure. She couldn't exactly blame him for starting to get annoyed with her.

"I'm sorry, Thorin. I just didn't know where we stood; it's been so long…"

"One hundred and seventy one years. If you're keeping track," Thorin interjected, sounding as if he could have told her the exact number of months, weeks, days, hours and minutes that made up that time. There was so much loneliness in his statement; Kelda felt like someone had stabbed her in the gut with a sword and twisted the blade.

"Oh, Lopti preserve me," Kelda cursed, dropping her head into her hands. She'd made a mistake, waiting so long to talk to him, one that she was currently regretting with all of her being. "Can we, um, can we backtrack a bit? Can we start over and just pretend, for a moment, that I wasn't such a coward and that we're back in the Shire, having this conversation then instead of now?"

"Would that make you feel better?"

"Sadly, yes."

"So be it, then. We've not yet left the hobbit's house," the dwarf answered with serious finality; they'd never left the shire. It was officially fact, until somebody stated otherwise. "Shall I have you sign the contract again, Lady Mage?"

"No," Kelda said with a small smile, lifting her head from her hands to look over at him. "No, Master Oakenshield, that's not necessary. You're lucky I even signed it the first time. In fact, had it been anyone other than you trying to get me to do it, I wouldn't have. You know how I am with putting my name on something; there's power in a name."

"Yes, well you needn't worry about that. I've no great power to bind you with, name or no name." Thorin said, and then he reached over to gently lift the pendant hanging around Kelda's neck in order to look at it more closely. "You kept it."

"Yes, I did. It reminded me of..." You, she thought to herself, though she couldn't quite bring herself to say it out loud. "Home. It reminded me of home."

"It was broken?" He asked, running his thumb over the jagged line going down the center of the necklace.

"About thirty years after Erebor fell," Kelda began to explain, also looking down at the necklace. "My little sister Anayla and her hippogriff Tazir wandered away from the caravan; she was only fifteen at the time and was always running out into the woods in search of elves and faeries. Normally she returned unscathed and got a long lecture from Draxis, but that time…well, she was lucky Sitheiyra and I were doing a bit of evening hunting, because instead of finding beautiful woodland folk, she found herself a cave troll. She and Tazir had squeezed themselves beneath a small stone overhang but the beast had them trapped there and was working on pulling the rock right out of the ground. Sith and I managed to drive it off, but not without a great deal of trouble; I returned home with my terrified sister and more than one smashed rib. The pendant had been broken sometime during the process. I was inconsolable for days, until Draxis repaired it for me."

"You stood alone against a cave troll. That was quite brave."

"No braver than standing alone against a great pale orc," Kelda replied, looking back up at him. Thorin met her silvery gaze for a moment before making a sound of dismissal, obviously having no intention of discussing that matter further. He released the necklace, letting it fall back against Kelda's chest before turning his attention to her wings then. The dwarf's eyes lingered where they were bound tightly at their bases in black cloth for a second before sweeping over the feathers.

"I was told that you wouldn't even survive your wounds, let alone that your feathers would return," Thorin said as he looked her over. "It appears that your healers were wrong on both counts."

"They were wrong on one; I'm not dead yet. As for the feathers…" Kelda sighed, shifting her wings self-consciously and dropping her gaze. "They weren't wrong. My feathers never grew back. These are…they're not natural. I had to use a spell to get them, one that I made up after a lot of trial and error. Essentially they're feathers that I can turn to metal, of a sort, when I have need to. Like blades. They're coarse to the touch and they're heavier and stiffer than true feathers. I couldn't even really get them to be red like my natural ones were. The closest I could come to is this orange color and they take so long to develop correctly; obviously I've still not been able to finish all of them after all this time…but it's the best I could do."

"I quite like them," Thorin stated matter-of-factly as he reached up to pull a leaf from the plumage on her head. Kelda quickly looked back at him, surprise flitting across her face, followed by disbelief and confusion. Draxis had told her once he thought they were ingenious. Anayla, who had by far the prettiest golden feathers to have ever graced the planet, had told her once that they suited her, but nobody had ever claimed to like them before.

"You…like them?" Kelda asked hesitantly, wondering if perhaps she had misheard the dwarf and was simply mistaken. Thorin just nodded his head, erasing any doubt that she had indeed heard him correctly.

"Aye. They remind me of fire opals."

"Fire opals? I think I've seen ladies of the court of Gondor wearing them as jewelry. Are those the ones that look like someone captured the essence of the evening sun and put it in a gem?"

"That would be them."

"Those are…very pretty stones."

"They are," Thorin answered calmly. Kelda bit her lip and fidgeted under his gaze for a moment, painfully aware of the hot blush creeping across her skin. Only a dwarf could cause someone to blush by comparing them to a stone, the skyling thought to herself. Only this particular dwarf could make her blush at all.

"Damn you, Thorin Oakenshield, now look what you've gone and done, making me blush like some smitten youth. I do hope that you're pleased with yourself," she said before giving him a playful shove. "And stop giving me that puppy-eyed look. I'm a warrior, not some starry-eyed waif here to succumb to your kingly charms. You'd think after nearly two centuries I'd be immune."

"I apologize, Lady Mage. I would promise you that it won't happen again but I do not make promises that I can't keep."

"Can't keep? Or won't keep?"

"Both." The dwarf said with a crooked grin, the kind that she hadn't seen on his face since she'd lost him at the fall of Erebor. As Kelda rolled her eyes at his answer, her first instinct was to make a joke out of it, to hide behind the wall of humor and sarcasm she'd built around her heart to keep it safe from intruders. But Thorin isn't an intruder, she reminded herself. One cannot intrude in territory one already owns.

"Thatûr ra bin'aban," the skyling breathed with a slight shake of her head. She reached out to gently take his face in both her hands, rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes. "I missed you, you great oaf."

Kelda felt as much as heard the low roll of the dwarf's quiet laughter as he rested his hand against the back of her neck and leaned into her a little more.

"I missed you as well, Mimzunsh," he said, pulling her a bit closer to him. "I am glad that I found you again."

Khuzdul Translations:

Du Bekâr-To arms

Thatûr ra bin'aban- Stars and stones

Mimzunsh-Little bird