A/N

Wow, this chapter was written very fast. Thank you, suna Akastuna, evenina and mystique999 for your kind words. It has motivated me to write down this chapter even faster. I hope I will not disapoint you guys!

A Stranger Like Me

'My lady, you cannot go there.' An elf says as she walks towards the throne-room. 'The king has summoned the prison for questioning.'

But she ignores him. As Várar is walking through the hall, she can hear faint voices. One silvery, though with a threatening undertone, she recognises as that of he father. The other voice powerful, but angry, dangerous even. But still she moves closer to where the voices are coming from. She heard one of the strangers has been caught after she was send back home and now she wants to see it for herself.

As she watches the prisoner from her hiding place, recognises him immediately as the leader. His worn clothes covered in dirt, his face showing scratches. He didn't have those earlier, did he? Not that it matters. But what surprises Várar the most, is that he isn't held down by someone as he is talking to her father.

'Why were you and your folk trying to attack my men during their merrymaking?' she hears Thranduil asks as he is looking at the prisoner sternly. 'They did you no harm'

'We did not attack them,' the prisoner answers, clearly not feeling intimidated as the tall elven king circles around him, inspecting him. 'We were starving and lost our way when we came across them. We meant no harm, only help.'

'A dwarf asking an elf for help?' Várar can hear the mocking in her father's voice as he stops in front of the prison. 'I somehow don't believe you, Thorin Oakenshield.' The prisoner, Thorin, looks up in surprise as the king says his name. 'Oh I know who you are. I've seen you when I went to visit your grandfather long ago.'

Várar looks shocked at the discovery that not only the prisoner turns out to be a dwarf, but also a descendant of the king of the Lonely Mountain! That means he might know about her mother! She shifts slightly, positioning herself to get a better look of the dwarf. His clothing is like nothing she has ever seen, like nothing her father nor brother would wear. With his fur-lined blue coat and leather boots.

His face is covered in mutt and grime, like no royalty – nor nobleman for that matter – would ever present himself to others. His bearded face nowhere near the fair face of that of her father. His dark hair thick and greasy, probably due to the lack of bathing.

No, this dwarf is nothing like an elf. He is nothing like Várar has ever seen and he intrigues her with his roughed look. It makes her wonder what he would look like all cleaned up. Would he be called handsome by the standards of dwarves? For she finds the male to be attractive, for a dwarf that is. She always thought them to be much more uglier than the one standing in front of her father.

'Such a sad tragedy that has befallen you and your kin that day,' her father continues, walking away from the dwarf, hands folded on his back. 'I warned your grandfather. I warned him about what his greed would summon. But he did not listen.' As Thranduil reaches his throne, he sits down, looking at the dwarf again. 'Perhaps you and I could see more eye to eye, hm?'

'I am listening.'

'Tell me your true reason for your presence in my kingdom, and I will let you go. You will not be followed and this whole misunderstanding will be forgotten. You have my word.'

But the dwarf scoffs, turning his back on he father. How rude!

'I would not trust Thranduil, the great king, to honour his world should the end of all days be upon us!' The dwarf turns around again, pointing accusingly at the said king. His voice raising with every word he says, until he is shouting. 'You lack all honour! I've seen how you treat your friends, your allies, back then. We came to you once. Starving, homeless, seeking your help, but you turned your back. You turned away from the suffering of my people and the inferno that destroyed us!'

Várar looks up in surprise at the accusing of the dwarf. Her father would never do that! He might be cautious, protective of those dear to him. But he would never turn away from people in need. No matter elf, men or dwarf. She looks at her father, seeing the shocked expression on his face. Would he?

'Imrid amrad ursul!'

Várar winches at the harshness of the native words of the dwarf. Though she doesn't understand what he is saying, judging by the harsh sound to it and look on the dwarf's face, she can only guess it was meant as a treat or an insult.

'Well than,' Thranduil says, his lips a thin line as he chosen his words. 'In that case, you will stay here and rot. And once we find your companions, they will face the same faith.'

With on motion of his hand, guards grab the dwarf and haul him towards the dungeons. The dwarf struggles to get free as he is dragged away. Shouting and yelling at them to let go of him.

'I did not wish for you to have witnessed that, my gwilwileth,' the voice of her father says from right above her and Várar looks up.

Towering above her, is Thranduil, a look of concern in his eyes as he watches the small female shift uncomfortably. Her ears reddened a little for being caught eaves-dropping, before standing up with a cough. His lips twitch slightly in humour at the uneasiness of his daughter, but he quickly suppresses the smile.

'What where you doing here anyway, Várar?'

In the distance she can hear the dwarf shout again, probably cursing in his native tongue and Várar looks over her shoulder in amusement. When she looks back at her father, is is still waiting for her answer. With one eyebrow quirked, Thranduil stares at her, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.

'He has quite a mouth, doesn't he, adar?' Várar asks, amused by the dwarf.

'You will find all dwarves all share that trait, my dear,' Thranduil says, his eyes not leaving the small female. 'A trait that you too posses when angered.' He smirks as Várar looks away with a humph, crossing her arms over her chest. 'Still you did not answer my question.'

'I heard Legolas had captured one of the strangers I had seen, hearing a rumour it to be a dwarf. So I had to find out myself.'

He thought as much. Even him having raised her as an elf, Várar is and always will be a dwarf. Though the most mannered dwarf he has ever seen. But still she can be strong-headed and persistent. But most of all, she shares the same proud vibe dwarves bare, even when embarrassed.

'I wish your first encounter with dwarves would not be like this,' Thranduil says as he turns with a sigh. 'That foolish dwarf is not a master at first impressions.'

Not that Thranduil had ever intended for her to meet one of he own kind. For he knows her curiosity is now stirred and she will want to know more about dwarves. Perhaps even tempting enough for her to leave him. And that is something Thranduil will not allow to happen.

'Várar,' Thranduil calls after her leaving form. She stops and looks over her shoulder. 'Please stay away from our prisoner. He will cause you more trouble than he is worth.'

Thorin sighs as he sits in his cell. It has been a long time since he has been summoned by that elven-king. He doesn't even know how long it has been. A day, a week, perhaps even longer? He doesn't know. Time seems to move slowly down here.

As he stares ahead, a somber expression in his eyes, Thorin thinks of his comrades. Are they alright? Has any harm befallen them? Will he even see them again? He doubts that very much. While he is being held prison deep in the dungeon of the Woodland Realm, the others are still out there somewhere. Or better yet, they have left the forest.

Thorin sighs again, as he is weighted down with a heavy feeling of remorse. He has failed his people. He has failed his friends. Why did he think he had any chance to reclaim Erebor anyway? It was doomed to fail from the start.

'I thought the will of a dwarf could never be broken,' a feminine voice states from the darkness, but Thorin doesn't look up. 'But it seems I thought wrong.'

Thorin can hear footsteps approach from the other side of his cell, as the female comes closer. Still Thorin doesn't care. The she-elf is probably send down here to bring him food and drink. And while she is down here, why not mock a lone dwarf?

'I've never seen a dwarf before,' she continues. 'I must say you have made quite an impression. What did you say to my father when he was questioning you, hm?'

'The language of dwarves is only taught to those worthy of it,' Thorin says, as he turns so his back is facing his visitor. 'And the daughter of Thranduil is definitely not worth of such knowledge.'

He can hear her chuckle as she moves even closer.

'Are all dwarves like you?'

'Is this another interrogation?'

Thorin turns around in frustration, as the female chuckles again. Is it not enough to be thrown inside a cell in the deepest dungeon of the elven realm? Can he not be left in peace, even if he is just a prisoner? This spoiled elven princess seems to think not, just like her father.

But as Thorin turns around, his eyes turned up to face the tall elf, he is surprised to see no one. But he just heard... Where did that voice come from? Is he imagining things? Has he been held captive even longer than he thought?

'I think you misunderstand my linage,' the female says, humour clearly in her voice.

Is she mocking him? But still Thorin lowers his eyes, glaring while doing so. But as his eyes spot the female in front of him, he gasps as his eyes widen in shock. Again he is met with the round freckled face and blue eyes. Eyes that have haunted him for years. Lips he has wished to kiss many times.

'Are you alright?' she asks concerned, her brows forming a frown as they look at each other. 'You look like you've seen a ghost.'

'No,' Thorin whispers quietly as she keeps on staring at the female in front of him. 'You are not real. You cannot be real.'

Yet she is standing right in front of him. The flashing light of the torch lighting her face, making shadows dance on her face. Still as youthful as the day she had left, untouched by time it seems.

'Gefn...' he breathes softly.

Thorin moves over to the door that separates them as fast as he can, one hand clutching onto the bars, as he reaches out his other to touch her face. He needs to feel her face. He needs to know if she is real.

But she moves out of his reach quickly, a scared look in her eyes as she lets out a gasp, both out of fear and surprise. Thorin looks at her, surprised by her action. Perhaps she is only a creation of his mind after all. With a sigh he lowers his hand, feeling defeated by the trick his own mind is playing with him.

'You knew my mother.'

It wasn't a question, but a statement, puzzling the dwarf-prince. His mind is racing, trying to figure out what is going on. If the female is real, but she isn't Gefn. Then who is she? Suddenly he is hit by realisation.

'You are Gefn's child!'

He had meant it as a question, but somehow it had come as an exclamation. The young dwarrowdam nods, slowly moving closer again. Thorin examines her, amazed by her resemblance of her mother.

He has so many questions to ask. So many things he needs to know. So many things he has to say. But all he can do, is smile at the female, who is looking at him in return, clearly uncomfortable. And when Thorin finally opens his mouth to speak, only one thing comes out.

'Where have you been?'

Thorin smiles as he listens to the young dwarrowdam, whom he has learned is called Várar, finding her voice pleasing to the ear. Though he must admit he does not only find her voice pleasing. As a spitting image of her mother, she is also easy on the eye and he finds himself being drawn towards her by he beauty. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever dream on finding himself being attracted by a female again.

Yet here she is, right in front of him, with only prison-bars between them. With the same eyes as Gefn, the same nose and same smile. The lass even has the same built as her late mother. Perhaps Mahal has not forsaken him after all, if he has send a blessing in such beautiful form. Perhaps he could win her heart over, have her as his queen. For a king needs a beautiful queen at his side.

Suddenly her face turns serious, the mischievous glint – the only difference between her mother and her - disappearing from her eyes. And in those few days he has seen her, he has not yet seen her like this. Várar quickly scans the dungeons, in search guards. Not that that would be necessary. He has only seen guards when they bring him food and drink.

'I know why you are here,' she whispers softly, inching her head closer to his. 'You are planning to reclaim the Lonely Mountain.'

Thorin looks at her in shock. How did she find out? And if she knows, does that mean Thranduil knows it as well? Thorin finds himself stumble over his words in surprise, trying to deny her statement.

'Don't worry, I won't tell father-'

'-Stop calling him that!'

'I promise. He doesn't know.' Várar smiles at him as she continues. 'He thinks you are here to rob him.'

Thorin scoffs. Like that foolish elven-king even has anything Thorin would want. He eyes the dwarrowdam for a moment, a faint smile on his features. Well, perhaps there is one thing...

'It is the wizard who told me,' she continues to explain. 'He came to visit me about half a year ago, stating he was going on an important journey. He asked if I would like to come along as well, stating it would be an opportunity to meet my kin. But father – stop being so childish - would not hear of it. But before Gandalf left, he whispered to me to keep an eye on the mountain.'

Thorin smirks. So that wizard was scheming a plan to get her out of here. Perhaps he has thought too low of the the wandering wizard. Then his smirk drops, realising he won't be able to reach the mountain in time if he is to spend more time in here. Várar notices the sudden change and smiles softly.

'Don't worry. I will get you out. We just have to wait for the right opportunity.'

Thorin wants to believe her. Really, he does. But something prevents him from doing so. Even though the lass has spent most of her spare time down here with him, he can tell she is loyal to Thranduil. Like all dwarves, Várar is loyal to a fault when it comes to her father-figure. And while she is disobedient by seeing him, he knows she could never defy Thranduil like that.

'You should come with me,' Thorin states as she hands him a juicy apple, earning a look of surprise from the young female. 'You don't belong here. You belong with your own folk.'

Várar takes a few steps back in shock, not knowing what to say. She knows she belongs with her own folk. But at the same time, she feels like she does belong here. The past few days have been confusing enough. For her to be disobeying her father's command, it is not like her! She has only done so a few times. The only reason she wants to help free the dwarf, is because no innocent person deserves to be locked up.

But to leave her home to join someone she doesn't even know that well? To leave her father behind, just like that? Can she do that? She stares at Thorin, who is looking at her with pleading eyes.

Várar knows she had once almost left her home, true. But that was over fifty years ago and she had been upset. She is a different person now, at least that is what she tries to tell herself. She is no longer that unthoughtful child. She needs to think about this thoroughly. But will she have the time to think this through?

A/N

So there we are. Várar has finally met a dwarf, Thorin of all dwarves! What will happen now that he has sparked up her curiousity?

Anyway, did you like it? Did you not like it? Just let me know.