"What are you?"

She could hear the shock in his voice and she almost flinched when he took a small step away from her. This is what she had been trying to avoid. "A skin changer," she answered him softly, keeping her eyes on the ground and her head bowed.

He could see she was upset, see it in the way she stood without moving or looking at him, see it in the way she played with her hands. She was worried he would hate her, just as the dwarf had; it was truly endearing to see her fidgeting so. That she cared enough about his companionship that she did not wish to frighten him away. And so he tried not to be frightened; even though she had been a dragon, even though she had killed every single orc in less time than it took for him to uncover his eyes, even though he was in fact scared; he tried not to be frightened.

She looked up at him when she felt his hand gripping hers, stilling their fluttering. "You do not hate me?"

It almost hurt him to realize she did not think anyone could ever love her, not with what she was. "Of course not," he assured her, seeing the hope in her eyes. "Not everyone who knows you will hate you. They might be afraid, but they may not all hate you." He could see the disbelief in her eyes and he wondered if there was anyone who did not hate her. "Did the dwarf king hate you?" he asked her.

She was quiet a moment before she nodded. "He did when he discovered my other skin was a dragon. But he spoke different words when he died."

Aragorn nodded as though he understood; in truth he did not think he would ever understand her and the way she cared, though he knew why – she did not care in the ways of man but rather in the ways of an animal. "And the man you long for?" he asked causing her to look at him appalled.

"I most certainly do not," she said in outrage making him laugh as they moved away from the dead orcs.

He chuckled for a moment longer before he looked at her, seeing a slight tint to her cheeks in the moonlight. "Did he hate you?" he asked.

"No," she answered softly, thinking of the elf prince. "I do not know why though."

"Perhaps he longs for you too," he said nudging her, laughing at her hard eyes. It was a moment later she was trying to laugh herself. "What's it like being dragon?" he asked curiously.

She shrugged. "I don't know," she said as she thought, taking a long while to think about it. "It's like being me."

He studied her face, seeing her brows drawn together in deep thought. "Is it harder to be human?"

"Yes," she answered, not needing to think about that. "There are emotions and courtesies that dragons have no use for."

He nodded understanding that; he figured it would be easier to not have to worry about life, as a dragon he thought she would only worry about food – which was easy enough to find. And then he wondered why she was a human at all, it seemed the more difficult skin. Then he wondered if it were not the man she had left why she was in her human skin. That put his mind on an entirely different track, one of a more inappropriate nature. "Do you have a mate?" he asked surprising her.

She looked at him scandalized before she shook her head. "I did," she told him.

He looked at her waiting for more until he realized there wasn't. "He died."

She took a heavy breath before looking at him. "Yes, though he had discovered what I was years previous and had left me."

"That sounds harsh," he said not liking the dragon she'd been with.

She shrugged. "He let me live," she offered.

He did not agree, he hadn't left her – therefore there was no excuse for the dragon having left her because of what she was. She was too good for a lot of what she took; she was too good for the dragon, too good for the dwarf king; and yet she let them get close enough to hurt her. She was more caring than he'd thought. He decided to change the subject. "How was that?" he asked blatantly.

"How was what?" she questioned warily.

"Mating with another dragon?" he explained nonchalantly.

"Aragorn," she exclaimed making him laugh loudly. "I am a lady, you cannot ask me that."

"You're a dragon too," he offered in his defense. "So? Was it like with a man?"

She looked at him wide eyed, her mouth opened but no words to say. "I, I've," she stuttered, "never been with a man."

"Really?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Do not act as though that is so hard to believe," she said holding up a finger and he raised his hands in mock surrender.

They continued walking, Aragorn laughing softly and Erytheia biting back a smile. This was the most human she had ever been – jesting with a friend. She liked it.

He looked at her out of the corner of her eye. "I'm not going to leave you," he told her seriously. "I think it's wonderful that you're a dragon."

"Really?" she asked almost timidly, for no one had ever said that before.

"Yes," he told her with a nod. "You can kill anything."

It was her turn to laugh and he smiled at the sound, for it was the first he'd heard it. They walked for the rest of the night, Aragorn asking her about being dragon and her time with Smaug. And Erytheia asking him things about being a human. It wasn't until the sun was peeking its head over the horizon that Aragorn stopped her with a request.

"Can we fly?"

She was surprised at the welling of tears in her throat, thinking they were uncalled for. But in truth there had been no one to ever trust her enough to want her in her dragon skin. But Aragorn did. Not only that, he trusted her with his life. Something entirely new to her. This was the moment that began their unbreakable friendship, one that would last for the remainder of their days.

So this might actually be the last of her journey with Aragorn; frankly I don't know what else to write. But there may be a chapter or two more of her time with Smaug and then I think that will be it.