'True love doesn't mean being inseparable; it means being separated and nothing changes.'

- Anonymous.

8th July, 2769

The Grey Mountains

At the base of the Grey Mountains, four elves sat around a camp fire, talking quietly amongst themselves as the warm air slowly began to grow colder and the sun faded completely from the sky.

"Do you think he will come?" the tall elf with light hair and violet eyes asked lowly, leaning closer to her female companion.

"He said he would, Marissa."

"I know that. But what if he changes his mind?" Marissa countered, eyes flicking up to meet her cousin's.

"Then he is a fool who doesn't know what he's missing out on," Arwen replied calmly. Marissa couldn't help the smile that tugged her lips upwards at that. She shook her head in amusement, her loose curls bouncing around her face.

"You always know how to get rid of my worries."

"Someone has to, otherwise you'd be a nervous wreck half the time," Arwen smirked. Marissa snorted and pushed her cousin gently, almost causing the other elf to topple off of the log she was sitting on.

"Would you two quit your yapping," Elladan hissed. The two elf maiden's turned in unison to find their brother and cousin clutching his sheathed sword with tight fingers.

"What's wrong?" Marissa asked immediately, taking note of the bow and notched arrow in her other cousin's hands.

"There's a group of Orc scouts approaching," Elrohir explained quietly. Marissa and Arwen both tuned into their surroundings, and sure enough, they could make out the pounding footsteps and guttural grunts and snarls that could only belong to Orcs. "We need to move quickly. Marissa, put the fire out, Arwen, grab our packs and hide in the cave over there."

The two females nodded, jumping into action. Marissa dumped her waterlogged cloak over the fire, effectively putting it out and smothering the smoke that would've filled the air. Arwen quickly reattached their packs to the horses and whispered to them in Elvish until they nickered softly and followed her to the cave that would be big enough to house four horses.

"How many are there?" Marissa questioned as she tightened the vambraces around her lower arms and picked up her sword.

"20, maybe less," Elrohir replied. He raised his bow and pulled the string back, already getting into the mind frame of battle so he would be prepared to take down the first Orc that appeared.

"Okay. Are we sticking with the old plan or is there a new one?"

"The old plan, we don't have time to come up with a new plan."

Marissa nodded, strapping her sword around her waist. "I'll take the axe wielding ones, you take the archers and Arwen and Elladan will take the others."

"Sounds about right," Elrohir agreed, sharing a smirk with her cousin. "I think it would be best if I took to somewhere high – I'll have a better vantage point from there."

Marissa turned her head, looking around their campsite until she spotted a small ledge a little way up from the entrance to the cave where their horses were hidden safely away. "Up there. It's out of sight and you'll have a good shot at them."

"Good spotting, little doe," Elladan congratulated her as he and Arwen re-joined them. Marissa scowled at the childhood nickname, her eyebrows dipping down as she pulled her sword free from its sheath.

"You three get into position, I'll aid you from my perch up there," Elrohir ordered, gaining nods of agreement from his family members. He dashed away just as the first line of Orcs came bursting through the trees.

"Be careful," Marissa told her cousins quietly. Arwen brushed her fingers against Marissa's arm gently, nodding her agreement and then they were off, swinging and slicing their way through the first group of Orcs. Marissa ducked down just in time to avoid a swing that would've taken her head off. She shoved her sword upwards, trying to ignore the discomfort she felt as the blade slid through the Orc with ease and lines of black blood ran down her sword.

More Orcs were quick to replace the ones Arwen, Marissa and Elladan cut down with their swords and Elrohir with his bow and arrows. The three elves on the ground soon found themselves overwhelmed and the siblings and their cousin moved closer together, their backs pressing against each other.

Just down the path from the Grey Mountains, two dwarf princes strolled along with their two most loyal friends by their sides. The four of them were talking and laughing amongst themselves when the sound of fighting met their ears.

"What was that?" Frerin asked as the group stopped abruptly. A pain filled scream pierced the air and Thorin was quick to make a few gestures in Iglishmek before they all started moving again, tucking their packs into a crack in the wall nearby and pulled their weapons out.

"Stay together. Don't let anything catch you off guard," Thorin warned lowly in Khuzdul. The others nodded, tightening their hold on their weapons as they slowly crept forwards.

The dwarves made it to the treeline and peered out cautiously. At first, nothing seemed out of place, until they caught movement up ahead and discovered a small group of elves trying to hold off a large Orc pack. One of the females was back to back with one of the males and the other two were twirling, slicing and stabbing their way through their opponents.

"Thorin. Thorin, didn't Mari say she was meeting us here with her cousins?" Frerin whispered to his brother. Thorin nodded before growing cold, his heart skipping a beat.

"That's Mari," the eldest dwarf prince replied quietly, pointing at the elf maid as she threw herself into a forwards roll to avoid getting stabbed—she was on her feet seconds later, slicing the head off of the orc that attacked her. It was obvious the elves could hold their own, but more Orcs just kept pouring into the clearing and they didn't have enough fighters to hold them all off. Thorin moved in immediately, ramming his sword into the neck of an Orc that had been inches away from stabbing Marissa in the back—she sent him a surprised look and a small smile before rushing back into the fight.

"We need to move in, now," Frerin told Dwalin and Balin. "They need help."

"Aye, that they do, laddie," Balin agreed. They exchanged nods and then they were charging into battle, shouting war cries and raising their weapons high.

The Orcs didn't see them coming until it was too late and between the four of them and the four elves, they were quick to wipe out the remaining Orcs.

"It's good to see you, Prince Thorin," one of the twins greeted, sheathing his sword. "Your timing is impeccable."

"So I can see," Thorin replied with a sly smirk.

"If you two are finished joking around, I would like to get a move on before more of them appear," Marissa ordered sternly and Thorin didn't think she could look any more like a warrior queen if she tried—the top section of her hair had been pulled back and braided off at the back of her head, she had cuts and bruises all over her face and arms, her travel gear was torn in numerous places and bloodstained but she held herself tall and proud, knowing that she held her own and took down just as many enemies as her cousins and the dwarves. She sheathed her sword and rubbed at a scratch running through her eyebrow.

"Don't pick that," Thorin said suddenly. Marissa's eyes jumped to him and she smiled, hand falling from her face.

"I'm glad you're here," she said softly, well aware of the eyes on them. "I've missed you."

"I missed you too," he replied honestly. He moved his body slightly to block the other dwarves' gaze and linked his fingers through hers, squeezing her hand gently.

"You brought your friends with you," she noted, looking over at them. "Can we trust them?"

"Yes. I would trust them with my life," he explained. Marissa nodded and quickly pulled her hand free as the other dwarves slowly made their way over.

"Maybe we should keep this a secret for now," Marissa whispered. "We can tell them when we're in the safety of Imladris."

"I agree," Thorin nodded thoughtfully. "I do not think you would like to spend the entire journey with Dwalin glaring at you."

"Is he the angry looking one with the Mohawk?" Marissa asked, amused. Thorin nodded with a grin.

"Dwalin, Balin, this is Marissa, Princess of the Woodland Realm," Thorin introduced as his friends reached their sides. Dwalin grunted his reply whereas his brother bowed lowly, claiming he was at her service. Marissa inclined her head in respect, repeating the gesture. "Mari, this is my two oldest friends, Dwalin and Balin, sons of Fundin."

"If you could gather your packs, we'll get moving as soon as possible," Marissa said, clearing her throat at their confused looks and turned away, making her way back over to her cousins.

"Ye have a lot of explaining to do, laddie," Dwalin growled as he turned to Thorin.

Almost two weeks later found the group trekking through yet another heavily wooded area that would take them to the outskirts of the Hidden Valley. The dwarves had refused to ride on the horses with the Elves, so Marissa and her cousins had decided that, they too, would walk and just lead their horses—even if it meant their journey would take longer than they would've liked. Thorin had been right about Dwalin and Balin not liking Marissa, though Balin was more subtle about it. The two dwarves would send her accusing glances whenever they thought she wasn't looking and would turn their heads away when she move her gaze to them. Dwalin had also taken great pleasure in making Marissa feel as uncomfortable as possible, something that Frerin caught onto and then told his brother.

Thorin wasn't too happy to learn of this and as soon as he was done talking to his brother, he made his way over to his oldest friends.

"So, what do you think of the Princess?"

"…She seems nice," Balin replied after a minute of silence.

"Really?" Thorin mused quietly. "Then tell me, why is it you keep treating her with disrespect and belittling her every chance you get?"

Dwalin and his brother both looked uncomfortable at their Prince's words as they shared a glance before turning back to Thorin.

"We just don't understand, laddie," Balin admitted. "Why you would risk the wrath of your grandfather just so you could fool around with an elf? Especially that elf."

The three of them looked over at Marissa, who was braiding her cousin's hair. She glanced up suddenly, eyes flickering between them in confusion before she smiled slightly at Thorin and went back to Elrohir's hair.

"I'm not fooling around with her."

"Then what are ye doin'?" Dwalin countered.

"I'll explain it to you soon," Thorin promised. He stood up, turning away from them and heading over to the elves. Marissa greeted him happily, nudging him with her elbow as he commented on the neat, intricate braid she was weaving into Elrohir's hair.