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She was left for days with her thoughts, which were mostly of Smaug and the elf prince. The elves, as was their nature, showed her hospitality; they did not starve her. The food was not grand, the wine nearly tasteless, but it was more than she deserved. None looked on her kindly, no pleasant words spoken. She was fortunate to receive a curse if anything was said to her at all.

Her dreams were of the sky; her wings unfurled, the cool air chilling her, the smell of the earth. She dreamed of freedom. Something she wondered if she would ever have again. She dreamed of Smaug, when they had traveled together. It was not so much Smaug's company she desired so much as another living being. She was lonely. There were no animals, no plants. There was nothing around her but stone and wood. And the elves who abhorred her.

Now the dwarves too, I suppose, she thought to herself.

"You were with the dragon Smaug."

What once had been completely silent, she was startled awake by his voice. She looked out of the wooden bars to see his golden hair glinting in the flicker of his torch. "We traveled together for years," she told him, not daring to refuse in fear that he would leave and she would be alone again.

Legolas nodded; he hadn't been sure if that was the other dragon she had been with but now he was. "Was he your mate?" he asked almost awkwardly, not sure if he should be asking though she did not seem to mind. She seemed to welcome it in fact. And then he realized he was quite possibly the only person who had spoken to her the week and a half she had been imprisoned here.

"Not in the sense, no," she answered honestly. "It does not fit your idea of a mate."

"Then what is it?" he asked sitting against the wall opposite her cell. She had been haunting him; when he slept, when he breathed. He wanted answers. He wanted to hate her as his kin did. But he was only confused.

She took a deep breath as she thought of how to explain. "It is as your father said," she said looking at him with deadened eyes, "I am nothing more than a beast within. Smaug, with all his intelligence, is no different than I." It was not a direct answer to his question but was enough; he now knew that they had behaved as animals, love had not been known to either of them – for what all that was worth.

His father's words had been cruel. It was true she had ruthlessly slaughtered their people, but she had not killed him; in that she had shown mercy. But if she were no more than a beast, an animal, than how could he or his father expect her to behave as though she were not? Smaug was not evil, he was a dragon. Yes he, and his kind, killed others but they were not blamed themselves; they were nothing more than beasts – as intelligent as they were. So why was she treated as though she were evil?

These were the questions he asked himself. And never was he pleased with the answers he found. "Why did you let me live?" he asked causing her to roll her eyes. "What made you remember?" he tried again.

She didn't know how to answer, she didn't know the answer herself. It was not by choice to lose herself to the changing of her skin, but it was her reality. "I was close enough to smell your fear," she said finally.

"And that made you remember?" he asked. They had all been afraid, the moment they heard the dragons fear devoured them; just as the flames did. This time she gave no answer, she didn't have one to give and he knew it. "Did you mean to kill them?" he asked, knowing his questions were making her unhappy; he could sense it off her.

She shook her head as she looked at the rock above her head. "I never do," she said softly, just loud enough for his elf ears to catch.

He asked nothing else, he had his answer. She killed, that was true, but she did it out of instinct. She did it without humanity. He could see it in her eyes it haunted her, he could sense it in waves the deep regret and years of sadness. He didn't think he would ever be able to hate her now.

…

That had been the last time he visited her. His mind too conflicted with thoughts of right and wrong and if she belonged in either category. And so he stayed away.

It had been a long few days, sitting alone in her dark cell with no company but her own. She was just on the edges of sleep when she heard someone trying to quietly approach her. She stood quickly and moved further into shadow, waiting for them to come closer. It was not his face she recognized, she could see nothing, it was not the sound of his voice, he said nothing. It was his scent. She had spent weeks, maybe a little less than two months, near enough to him that she knew his smell apart from the others.

"Thorin?"