When they came out, the sadness was unmistakable and some, Dwalin and Bofur, couldn't take their eyes from the fire. Bilbo stood up as Gandalf declared, "I'm going now." He walked to her, "Be strong, I'll try to lessen the sentence."

"Please, don't give me special treatment. I want to be treated like everyone else." She looked up at him and he was reminded of when he first met her. Tears had streaked her face and she had looked so helpless, but that was not the woman who was watching him now. She had become so just and resilient, the way her mother had been. "Alright." he turned to go back up the staircase when he rotated back to her.

"May your journey be brief and the wind on your side." she smiled sweetly at him and for the next few moments there wasn't anyone around. He stood upright and with all the courage he possessed, he spun around and left. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching him go until she couldn't see him anymore, then she went to Dori, who was still in the kitchen, his eyes slightly red.

"Thank you. Let's eat, shall we?"

No one moved, except Bilbo who walked up to her and stood with his eyes looking right into hers. He grabbed her, immobilizing her arms and clutching her to his chest. When he loosened his grip a little, she wrapped her arms around him comfortingly. "Please, lets pretend. We are on a journey to reclaim a lost kingdom, we've had few troubles along the way and we have stopped in this hidden home for rest. Please, let us have an evening of laughter and joy. If not for yourselves, then, if I may be bold, for me." She was quiet but firm.

Bilbo squeezed her closer and with a sniffle, "As you wish."

"If someone can grab it, as it is far too heavy for me, there is a barrel of ale in the store room."

Bofur and Bombur got on their feet and were quickly down the hall as the rest began to dish up. It's hard to get passed moments of sadness, when they confront you so violently, and yet as the night carried on, the tensions ceased and much enjoyment was found. Soon it didn't matter who she was, blame it on the drink or on the pleasure of a warm place to sleep, but the dwarves treated her like she was one of their own and they saw a glimpse of her true self. They danced around the room as Asta sang merry songs, and she drank enough ale that she would scarcely remember the fun she had. Ori sat next to her challenging, matching her glass for glass, and he fell asleep rather hastily. Fili and Kili took the opportunity to draw awful faces on him from the ash from the fire. They giggled while giving him a single eyebrow, streaks from his eyelids and a smile painted to his cheeks. They left him in high hopes of seeing him realize his new face the next day.

Dwalin told epic tales of battles of old and new, ending in both sadness and victory. Balin talked of the wonders of Erebor and the glory of the gold hidden there. Gloin spoke of the mines of Moria, the beauty of its halls and the magnificence of the dwarves there. There was also a belching contest that was won by Fili. By the end of the night only a few dwarves had made it to their beds and Asta found herself sleeping on Bilbo's lap, a cushion under her head, while he slept sitting upright. Everyone had fallen asleep, except Kili, who sat across from her and Bilbo, watching her chest move up, and down, and how her lips were parted slightly and how flushed her cheeks were. Soon he fell into a deep sleep, where they met in a green forest, laughed about silly things and swam in a blue lake.

The subtle sounds of steel meeting its target awoke him, and at first he was startled, but when he noticed everyone was asleep, he calmed. Asta was gone from the hobbit's lap, so he followed the sound down a hall where pillars of light were coming down from the ceiling. Little, round, wooden panels attached to the roof by a golden hinge, had been pulled back, revealing a vertical tunnel that led to the surface. A thin, clean, metal grate, there to catch any debris, was at the bottom and light poured from it, forming small, soft circles, illuminating the hall. He continued down to the racket, where a door with a round pane of glass in the centre stood. Peering in he saw Asta, mostly unclothed, attacking a straw dummy that was larger than her. She wore a grey garment that wrapped around her chest and neck, a pair of pants that were larger at the bottom and tucked into a pair of boots that came up to mid calf. Beyond this she wore several black ties around her ankles, wrists and waist. The sweat had started to bead from her neck to her back, where Kili noticed the largest scar on her body. She attacked with exactitude and rapidity, but it was slower than usual. He noticed that his heart was pumping faster than normal and he couldn't tear his eyes away. The way she turned when she landed a hit, and the way she kicked above her head, made her body look lean and striking. It would make these lines, when the legs aligned with the torso and the arms made perfect "L"s with the body. She was dancing an intricate dance where she was completely immersed in what she was doing. It was the most mesmerizing moment he had ever seen. When he finally collected himself, removed the blush he had on his cheeks from looking so long at her, he stepped in, saying "Good Morning." She stopped and glanced at him, saying the same. "Sorry if I woke you, but I 've skipped my morning training too often while with you."

"No, no, I was awake anyways. Impressive training room." He looked down the large room. A long bag hung from the ceiling in the corner, a smooth wood outlined a softer flooring in the centre. Beyond the mat was a series of vertical wooden planks that were close together but had the capability to spin. "What is that for?" he asked about the strange maze.

"Ah, well, you spin one, and the others spin. You start at one side and without hitting the others you must make it to the other side."

"Impossible!"

"No, it just takes forethought. Let me show you." She spun one and all the rest began to whirl around. She stood with her legs together, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then stepped into the chaos. Once she had entered it was difficult to see her, but as a gap appeared through the planks he saw twist and change course, moving sideways then forward, only to emerge on the other side without disturbing any of the rotations.

"Amazing! How do you do it?!" He was so excited, like a child receiving presents on his name day.

"You have to use your other senses, and listen and feel the wind. You twist your body and move in a direction to avoid the on coming ones by either stepping back, forwards or sideways. It also helps if you turn with them. It's a very effective was of learning how to avoid enemies."

"I'd say." He admired the rest of the room before asking, "May I join you?"

"Yes, of course! Do you fight women?" she smirked while picking up her sword off the ground.

"I never have before, but I will fight you." He smirked back. "What are you wearing around your waist?"

"Oh, weights. I put rocks into these pouches and it helps me work my muscles and makes me faster in battle."

"Do you have anymore?"

She looked a little shocked, "Why, yes, in the corner there, there should be a chest of them and a chest of rocks beside."

Before he made it to the chest, he took his vest off, throwing it against the wall, then took his shirt off, treating it much the same. When he started to unbutton his underclothes Asta asked what he was doing. "Well, I don't want to have an advantage, do I?" and he smiled with his lips inside his mouth slightly. He tied the arms of his underclothes to his waist and picked up some weights. She couldn't help but watch. Admittedly, Thorin was only the second man she had seen naked, but she didn't care to look besides for his wounds. Kili was something else. You could tell he was a bowman; his arms were thick and tight. His chest wasn't as wide as Thorin's but his pectoral muscles were much more defined. His hair brushed his shoulders in length and he tied it back so that the tail touched his spine. She couldn't breathe, or she didn't notice breathing was this difficult until now. Her chest and back muscles grew tight and she could feel a flush flow to her cheeks. The rest of her body was numb and her eyes were not listening when she told them to look away. She remembered the first time she saw a young buck. His antlers were massive and his body was fit, the skin shiny from the light between the trees. He stood on top of a small mound of dirt, magnificent and steadfast. It had been the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and she felt all the same excitement now, taking in this near perfect dwarf man.

"Asta, what's the matter?" Kili looked at her with concern as her eyes took a look from the crown of his head to the bottom of his feet. 'He really is handsome'

"Nothing, nothing, I'm alright." She turned away covering her mouth, her breathing suddenly easier, like a panic it came and went quickly. She jumped up and down shaking her head to clear her mind. 'Your mind can not wander, not in a fight.' When she faced him he was grabbing a sword.

"Oh no! To avoid injury we will fight with these." She went to a wall of wooden swords, and threw one at him. He faltered with it, not anticipating the wooden one to match in weight.

"They are solid, so when you hit they can break bones, but can't cut you open, so no fatal blows, please." She stood on the mat stretching her legs. He too stretched, following her fashion. Dwarves usually just start fighting, but this was her arena.

"Ready?" she stood upright, shoulders thrown back and sword in her proper hand.

"If you are." He raised his sword and held it with two hands.

Her eyes narrowed and her body lowered. Asta's knees were bent and both hands held her sword. She began to circle.

Kili watched her, her gaze was solid and her body was strict on all planes, giving him no indication about how she would strike. He started to circle as well. They were almost full circle when her foot stepped to a different direction than before, so he lunged to strike but she parried then punched his arm.

"Do elves teach you to fight this way? Trickery and cheap shots?" he grinned again to tell her he was teasing.

"The elves taught me to never underestimate my opponent and to always fight with all options in mind." She grinned back.

"Dwarves don't often dance when they fight."

"No, I imagine you run headstrong into a storm, as a completely separate fury."

He leapt from one side to the next, hitting her sword arm, the one she had injured, but he hit softer than normal and below the wound. She quickly spun around him, ending up behind him and yelling out. He turned and parried her by hoisting the sword above his head. They were close now and the heat from her breath touched his face.

"If you hadn't called out, you would have had me."

"No dignity in stabbing someone in the back." He pushed her off and began to come at her quicker as his body adjusted to the weight. Soon they were full swing and fighting without words, but glances every time one did something the other admired. He could easily push her off him but she was quick and agile, so he often missed her by a hair. Sweat was all over both of them and they were breathing heavily.

"You're rather good with a sword." She said to him as they passed each other.

"And you're rather good with just one, let alone two."

"Swinging two blades relieves me of the weight of a shield while providing the same service, combined with the power to cut twice as much."

This time she lunged at him but instead of hitting him with her blade, she hit him with the full force of her body, upsetting his balance. She hit him with all the speed she had and soon he was knocked on his back, the tip of her sword at his throat. She smirked at him with a raise of her eyebrows.

"Never underestimate me." She released the sword and he grabbed her arm, pulling her down, he rolled his body and positioned the wooden spike at her. "Never leave your enemy able to get back on his feet."

She looked into his eyes, a deep, playful brown set, "Like Azog."

He realized his mistake and blinked a few times then said, "Yes, like Azog." Before rolling to his back. They stayed there heaving breath and staring at the ceiling.

Kili knew he shouldn't ask, but it concerned him so that he felt that he must, and if she needed to cry afterwards there was no one else around. "Are you afraid?"

Asta continued to stare at the ceiling, and although she understood what he was saying, she still asked, "Afraid of what?"

Because she didn't look at him, he didn't look at her, "Of dying."

For a long time he could hear her breathing and she said nothing, so when she did speak it was almost precious. "No."

"I am." He admitted, "I'm afraid about the people I leave behind and how they will be sad. I'm afraid of dying in pain and I'm afraid of dying without dignity." He was so straightforward that her words caught in her throat. He was so honest, just like how he fought.

"I'm afraid of dying alone, but not of dying itself. If I could have one person there, to hold my hand, just one, I could die happily."

He turned to his side to look at her, there were no tears, no sadness in her expression, just sincerity. She looked over at him and she smiled weakly. "I think knowing my mother is waiting for me, gives me strength."

He looked into her, and for the first time he felt like he saw past her face. He lost control then. She let him see something in her that he doubted anyone else had seen. "I won't let you die."

Her confusion was paired with, "What do you mean?"

"Today. Tonight. I won't let you die, there has to be another way."

He was looking at her, not just gazing but really looking and she knew that she was seeing Kili in his most vulnerable state; his most honest.

"And I won't leave you here either. Even if the company moves on, I'll come back, to visit, I have more freedom than my brother, it's doubtful that I will claim the throne, so I will visit you."

She sat up, so shocked she didn't know what to say. She had never had such a declaration of friendship before. "Thank you" Their distance was short, the most intimate allowance of space she had shared in some time. He smelt like hard work and fire smoke. A rustle of papers snapped them out of their private moment, and Ori was against the wall where Kili's clothes were, his face still black with great smudges.

"Since when have you been there?" Kili was clearly miffed at the surprise visit.

"Since you started fighting. I have some really great drawings of the two of you!"

Asta leapt up, abandoning Kili to admire Ori's work. Drawings that were only quick lines and dashes but she understood them. As they talked about the scribbles Kili was growing upset that the moment was ruined, and by admitting this, he understood something else. He was in love.

Being in love for a dwarf can mean one of two things. A life of the utmost happiness or a life alone and in grief, for dwarves only love once, and if the person they love does not love them back, they will often go out their days alone. Of course Kili wasn't thinking about this, he was trying to pin point when, where did he fall? Was it when they fought? Or when she saved Thorin, or maybe it was the moment he saw her? His mind was racing itself as one idea dashed in front of the others. He began to panic about the consequences of love and the what if's that whimpered to him from a dark abyss. He looked at her and Ori, she was laughing and smiling, admiring what he had to offer her, so what set Kili apart from the others? How did he know she wasn't already enamored with Ori, or Bofur, or even Fili? He must have looked as if he was in a state of panic because they were looking at him now, quite concerned.

"Are you alright?" Ori asked timidly, "You look a bit pale."

Asta looked on with worry and seeing her concern helped clear his thoughts a bit. "I'm alright, just feeling the ale from last night is all." Her face transformed as she guffawed at him, then she sniffed the air. Rising, she followed her nose out the door. The other two quickly followed the smell of sausages and ham into the kitchen.

"Ah! There ya are!" exclaimed Bofur, although taken back by Asta's lack of clothes, "Get yourselves washed up for breakfast!"

"Asta! What in the world are you wearing?" Bilbo was aghast at her appearance. "Go! Now! G-get some clothes on!" he covered his eyes with his arms and was thoroughly embarrassed.

"If you wish it." She laughed and handed her weights to Kili who went back down the hall to replace them. He noticed more latches to let in light when he came back, and so he undid them. When Asta came out everyone ate in plenty and it was acknowledged that everyone needed a proper bath, rebraiding and Thorin needed rest for the day, so quiet was needed. The dwarves, starting with Thorin, bathed and handed all but their underclothes to Bombur for washing. Bilbo did the same but he had brought a second set of clothes, just in case. One can never know what might happen once you step outside your door. Finally Asta's turn came and she got to draw hot water from the kettle and once she had undressed she stared into the mirror.

Her hair released from its formidable braid revealed it to be quite unruly. The scar on her shoulder was bright and hot as the light from the surface cascaded down on her. Her wound had a scab on it now, showing signs of healing; despite the slight bruise she had incurred that morning. The cuts on her cheeks were thin and when she put her fingers to it, she felt no pain. The scars that would be left would be faint if there at all, but they would always remind her of Thorin. She couldn't hate him for it, but it spoke leaps and bounds about him. If he was to be king, he needed to learn patience and to think carefully before exacting a punishment; he was still a young king.

She thought of when the company would leave, how she would not be able to see Ori's drawings as she had that morning. She knew that she would not see Kili another morning to fight. The company would leave, yes, but she was sharply reminded that she may not see another morning at all. She hugged her arms close around herself. Asta looked at herself in the looking glass, and she saw the white remnants of battles won and enemies made. Even if the excitement she felt that morning was to be relived it wouldn't matter. She got into the bath and was out before the water got cold, and came out drying her hair.

Ori stopped her by calling her name, "Asta."

She turned to face him as she was fishing water out of her ear, "May I braid your hair?" he asked very bashfully. His face was red and the others sneered at him before they realized her face was the same.

"My hair? I..I..?" she looked at fumbling hands as he nodded at her, "I only have two more bits of twine to pull it back with."

"That's alright, three is fine." They smiled at each other, their smiles both reaching their ears. She rushed off to get her supplies and the others looked at Ori baffled. He merely shrugged his shoulders. When she returned, she sat on the floor in front of him and he began his work. They talked a bit during the process about why she only ever did one braid, and why she only used twine to pull it back. He was gentle with his hands, never tugging or pulling so her head jerked. When he finished, she had two smaller braids that came from her temples that met a larger, more familiar braid that came from the top of her head. "There, now you look truly dwarvish."

She wanted to thank him, so she turned and he smiled the sweetest smile that she had ever seen. There was something in that smile that gave her comfort that she had never known. It melted her heart and she felt she would cry, "Bah! She's still missing the beard." Said Gloin, which caused stifled laughter.

Asta got up and left the dwarves to their own devices as she checked on Thorin. He was asleep when she entered, and for a long time she simply gazed at him. He would scrunch up his nose and moan slightly in pain sometimes. His body would tense and relax, but he would never wake. She made a draught and set it next to his bed, to help with the pain. 'He is strong too.' She thought before closing the door as quietly as possible. It wasn't until mid day that he left the room, Oin rubbed some ointment on his wounds, and replaced the bandages. Asta gave him a tea that would help with the pain yet again, but she said it was for excellent flavor. He did not return to bed, despite the push from his fellow dwarves and Bilbo. Thorin professed that he wanted to be sitting for a while, so his kin made him comfortable with cushions and blankets. Most of the day was spent in each others company, enjoying good food and stories of ancient times and a kingdom lost. Asta spent most of her time with Bilbo on the outer wall in comfort with tea, biscuits and pipe weed. When the outer door slid open, the room stiffened. Asta stood up to receive Gandalf as he came down the stairs but it was not Gandalf who came, but an elf.

"L-Lord Vehiron, I was not expecting you." She was shocked to see him as it was not often that he left Thranduil's side.

"Well who were you expecting," The elf peered around the room in contempt, "What are these…" he looked a Balin, then back at Asta, "Dwarves doing here, in the safe house of King Thranduil?" He looked down his nose at her.

"They aided me, my Lord, in getting here from Rivendell, and then Thorin became injured…"

"Thorin?" he interrupted. As he turned to face Thorin, his white hair spun around him like the wind had picked it up and put it gently back down again. "Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain." Vehiron did not bow, did not nod, merely looked at him. "Well, no matter. I want my room made up, we've been traveling long." He threw his bow and quiver to the floor then proceeded down the hall.

"Lord Vehiron, that room is preoccupied at the moment, but the third down the hall is open." As she began to collect his things.

In a single moment, he was on her. His thin, pale fingers wrapped around her throat, lifting her up, her back against the wall. Asta reached out her hands to his wrists, clawing at them trying to pry them from her neck, but he only pressed harder causing her to gasp for air.

"How dare you. You give my room, the first room, the one belonging to elvish nobility, to dwarves! You will remove them at once!"

He insinuated that dwarves were beneath him, and had Asta by the throat, this caused several of the dwarves to be at their feet, but it was Kili who decided to act. He began to walk briskly to her when Thorin said, "No, Kili." He stopped but glared at the elf, "Sit down." Thorin called authoritatively. Thorin was angry, everyone knew it and the tone of his voice led Kili to believe that he would do something Kili could not.

"Yes, listen to your throneless King." Vehiron spat at Kili, whose eyes blazed as his brother forced him to sit. If it wasn't for the rest of the company being in the way, Dwalin would have the elf's head rolling on the floor. The whole of the group wished to put the elf in his place, but Thorin made it clear that it was not their jurisdiction.

Asta was mad at Vehiron, and even though she felt no loyalty to Thorin, he was a king and should be treated as such. He had loosened his grip while these gazes took place, but upon seeing Asta's glare he tightened more than before. "Remove that look on your face, or I will remove it for you."

Her legs we kicking beneath her and the noises she made were no longer gasps, but more like that of a dying animal. She nodded.

"Do I make myself clear?" he put his face so close to hers that their noses were almost touching and she had no choice but to look at his icy eyes.

"What's all this noise about then, is Asta home?" a cheery voice followed by another white haired elf came down from the entrance. The look on his face faded instantly, "Lord Vehiron, put her down immediately!"

"You forget yourself!" His anger redirected at the new comer as Asta's face started to turn blue.

"You forget, I am her liaison to the King!" he sprung back at Vehiron. He dropped Asta and she hit the floor with a loud thud along with deep, strained gulps of air and choking.

"Remove them." He looked down at her as if she was a spot you couldn't get out of your tunic, then returned up the stairs.

"Asta!" The new elf was on his knees, trying to steady her as she gripped his shoulders, still coughing. He turned to the dwarves and noticing a very upset Thorin glaring at him, he bowed his head. "King Under the Mountain, I am sorry about this." He checked on Asta whose breathing was normalizing. " I am Sidhion, liaison for Asta, the ward of King Thranduil. Asta, are you alright?"

She pushed off him, harshly rejecting his assistance. She turned her body to the dwarves, her chest heaving, and without meeting their eyes she said, "If those of you in the first room can graciously move to the third, I would appreciate it. I'll be in the training room if you need anything." And with that she swiftly turned on her heels and was gone.

Kili and Bilbo got up to chase her but it was Dwalin who stopped them. "She does not need anyone for now. Leave her be." Kili glared at him, and then turned to yell at Thorin.

"How can you do nothing? He would have killed her!"

"It is not our place, we do not meddle in elf politics. I suggest you calm yourself before that Lord comes back, and stay out of this!" he asserted.

"You take her food, her drink, her hospitality, yet you won't help her when she needs us most. She is one of us and you leave her to fend off whatever comes her way, on her own."

"She is not one of us. She is an elf." Balin stepped forward.

"Does she look like an elf?" he waited and looked at his comrades who didn't have the courage to look back, "Does she act like an elf?" again he waited. "Do they treat her like an elf?"

"No." Sidhion softly spoke from behind the fuming Kili. He pointed at him and looked at them expectantly.

"Even they know it. She saved your life." He stepped towards Thorin, "and you abandoned her like all the rest." And with that he too stormed off.

"Kili!" Fili called after him, but he thought it best to let his brother calm down, so he sat with the rest in silence.

After the dwarves had moved their belongings into a smaller room, which meant that they would have to share beds, Fili went to see Kili in his isolation.

"Kili." He said as he shut the door. Kili was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows to his knees and he was fiddling with something in his hands. He looked up from this focal point to acknowledge Fili, but he said nothing.

"Brother," Fili sympathetically cooed as he sat next to him, placing his arm around Kili's shoulder. "You've been here for quite a while. Why not come out?"

Kili stubbornly kept his words to himself.

Fili sighed, "Tell me why you are so upset."

Kili's head spun around so quickly that Fili was sure it would spin right off. "You can't be serious."

"Perhaps we should have helped her. Perhaps. But you do know why Thorin did what he did." Once again Kili was silent, "that elf is cousin to King Thranduil." Kili perked up, "It was hard enough getting the thirteen of us together to reclaim Erebor, and as much hate as there is for Thranduil, we are thirteen dwarves, one hobbit and an elf friendly wizard. We're in the Elf King's forest, if word got back to him that the dwarf King's nephew threatened him, it would be us against an army."

Kili hung his head and breathed out quickly like a horse would, He knew that he was letting his emotions run on ahead of his sense, but it's not as if he was trained to do the opposite, that was Fili. While Kili played with toys, his brother learned the ways of the world.

"I know you feel sorry for her, but we can't justify going to war for her, especially not now that we are so close to our goal."

"I love her, Fili."

"Oh Kili," he rubbed his temples and sighed.

"I warn you brother, I'll not let her die." The forcefulness was familiar but not in Kili, and Fili nodded because he doubted any plan that he had would fail. Although, knowing his brother, he didn't have a plan at all.