Each day proved heavier than the last. It was becoming difficult for the hobbit to bear the weight of the things which passed unsaid between her and Thorin, especially after overhearing that pilfered conversation never meant for her ears. She struggled with the sentiments raging within her- some days she was so confident, so sure he cared for her that the confession of her own feelings seemed all too eager to trip off her tongue, heedless of the consequences, and other days she felt oppressed under the reasons and rationalities, the reality of her life and his and the impossibility of them having a future together.

"Their king may choose his bride."

Still, Dwalin's words echoed in her mind. Thorin had affirmed in no uncertain terms that he was free to dictate his own personal future and would allow no one else to do so for him, but whether or not the future he planned was with Evangeline was less clear. There was something between them, surely, but she tried not to permit herself the joy of knowing his sentiments until he had explicitly shared them with her. And so they journeyed on, riding together day after day, sleeping near one another night after night, and the days and nights began to tangle together into one seamless stretch with little to distinguish one from the other. Her life was a canvas being painted upon, yet all the colors had begun to blend into one another in a torrid confusion of meaning and purpose. She could not explain it or even understand it, but as the planes of Gondor morphed into the mountain passes, everything seemed to blur together. And yet a few memories stayed clear despite the haze. Evie did her best not to let the stolen conversation affect her, but she could not deny herself those silent, private moments in the evening when she was on watch and her eyes would fall on the dwarf's sleeping figure. As troubled as he sometimes seemed in his waking moments, Thorin Oakenshield slept quietly, as if his burden had been lifted for at least those simple hours when he dreamed of a life so different from his own, liberated from the responsibilities of reality. She wondered what it was he dreamed of, and if his fantasies mirrored her own.

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Evie may not have noticed the change, but Thorin felt the gentle, medial effect of the journey slowly rousing something inside him. It was nothing notable, nothing which stood out among their day to day interactions or ordinary conversations, but he sensed that things were shifting between them. It had all started that night at the tavern, or perhaps it had truly begun back at Moria, but whatever it was that appeared intent on developing between them was running its course. It had been born as a mutual interest, an attraction. Perhaps because she was so different from anyone else he had ever known; a hobbit- fiercely loyal, courageous of heart, caring, but intrepid… The better Thorin got to know her, the more she challenged him to think differently, to act differently… Evangeline had audaciously set him on edge so many times before, but as they continued to travel together, the dwarf felt more and more comfortable around her. Their relationship had grown into something easy, and although they still had moments of emotional clumsiness, they fumbled through them and never irrevocably. Thorin felt that he knew her well, now… He had learned how she preferred her soup (with a little more flavor than the dwarves would settle for); he had grown to recognize the lovely, bell like sound of her voice as she hummed under her breath when they were moving during the day; he memorized the faces she made when she was sad or angry or disappointed or, best of all, contented. There was a special look which sometimes graced her fair features, and it was often the last thing he thought of when he fell asleep at night. Her grey eyes would light up brighter than the very stars themselves, her cheeks would flush the fairest shade of pink, and her perfect lips would tug up at the corners- it wasn't a full smile but just the hint of one. It was the face she made when he spoke to her on certain subjects, and he had begun to notice that sometimes she adopted it when they were riding and her hand slipped down to rest on the hilt of the sword he had given her. It stirred him to see it and to know that it was for him, even if neither of them would admit it.

There was much they did not say to each other, or could not say, and he felt it growing between them even as their familiarity increased. He saw it happening, but felt powerless to stop it. He could not promise her what he wished to, he could not give her everything he wanted to. It made him feel out of control, at times, helpless to the obligation of his race. But duty throbbed in his heart just as surely as affection, and while he refused to deny either he could not sacrifice one to the other. The prince was determined to find a way to serve both, and assured himself that if he could manage such a thing, the results would favor not only himself but his people. He imagined Evangeline at his side, building up a community around them, around their family… The very thought made the Heir of Durin hold his breath like a child on the cusp of possessing an impossible dream.

She had talked of healing, once. A long time ago. While his wounds from the Battle of Azanulbizar had mended years ago, the true recovery of Durin's Folk was still ongoing. Who better than a healer to continue the work?

.

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"Will you tell me about it? If it's too painful, of course I-"

Evie grew silent when she saw the look in Thorin's eyes. There was sadness in their blue depths, deep, unquenchable, unanswerable sadness, but also hope. It was something she ardently wanted to understand. She wished to know Thorin, son of Thrain, and to know him was to know Erebor.

They were resting near the fire, talking together as they sometimes did. Telchar was on watch and Dwalin already asleep, so the couple took advantage of the cloak of darkness around them to find a moment of intimacy they might not have dared to in the day time. Thorin was reclining, leaning back on his pack so that he was half sitting, half lying down. Evie was sprawled out next to him, lying on her side and looking up at him, her blanket wrapped around her. Nimble fingers worried the edge of the object, tugging at loose strands of the stitching, dismayed that she may have crossed some unexamined line with her question.

"It was beautiful."

He began, and the desperate longing dripping from every syllable made her crumble. They had spoken of it before, of the Desolation of Smaug and the fatal consequences of that day… But never of Erebor as it was. Never of that great stronghold of the dwarves as her grandfather had described it, as it had once been. In greatness, not in ruin. And yet incurable loss hung over every memory like a shadow. The past was unbiddable, and as much as Thorin wished he could recall the gleaming halls of his former home without the taint of Smaug's vehement attack, every thought was touched by dragon smoke and the raging flames which had claimed so many lives and had brought his childhood to ruin.

The prince sighed, looking down at the hobbit and sparing himself for an instant, as fleeting as it was. Her gaze was directed down at her hands where they picked nervously at the fringe of her blanket, and he knew she would not look up at him until he began to speak again. She felt his discomfort, but also his desire to share with her that deep part of himself he admitted to no one, and she recognized how fragile and precious this opportunity was. He knew her well enough to assume she would not meet his eyes, and so his gaze was unchallenged as it swept over the gentle slope of her cheeks, the swell of her chin and the tantalizing plumpness of her lips. Her dark eyelashes fluttered against her creamy skin as she tried to distract herself, and he watched the delightful wrinkles forming at the top of her button nose as she struggled against her own consternation, her regret for asking him to divulge such a personal memory. He enjoyed her trepidation, her caring. It was why he felt he could share such things with her- he knew she would guard them as assiduously as he did, and appreciate them all the more for her own connections to the mountain. He took a deep breath, and her clear grey gaze met his again.

"There were seams of gold that looked like they could go on forever, laced with all manner of precious stones. The treasure room overflowed with riches, far more than any reasonable imagining… Gold piled high under the vaulted ceiling, endlessly..."

He paused, and Evie waited patiently for him to continue, her eyes tracing the deep lines of his face as he tried to describe his old home. "I was very young when Erebor was taken... Truthfully, I barely remember it. I've tried to keep the image of it fresh in my mind, to recall just how the Great Hall looked or the brilliance of the Arkenstone…" He trailed off, lost in his thoughts.

"The Arkenstone. My grandfather spoke of it in his letter. He sent this necklace because he could describe its beauty no other way."

She explained, tugging the silver chain out from under her dress and investigating the small opal it carried. Thorin's eyes were dark as he stared down at it.

"He was right to do so. But even this, as lovely as it is, cannot begin to compare to the Arkenstone. My grandfather accepted it as a token of his right to rule as King Under the Mountain… There were so many colors, so many dazzling shades… It was breathtaking in its beauty. The stone, like most lost, precious things, stands indescribable."

He concluded with a heavy sigh, his gaze far away. Evie ran her fingers over the smooth convex of her opal, trying to imagine what the great gem must have looked like.

"Well, I suppose you'll have to show me some day." She smiled at his puzzled look, although the way his eyes lit up with pain and longing made her heart pound with sympathy.

"When you return to Erebor."

She clarified, trying to be encouraging. She knew it could harm as much as help, but she guessed that Thorin needed a little more hope in his life. He hadn't seemed to have much cause for it lately, and if she could help him win that back, at least, perhaps circumstances might well improve for the dwarves. What she didn't realize was that he was the one creating a change in her. She had never possessed any reason to look toward the future- her life had always been about serving others and exploring and moving from place to place. It was only the cause of the dwarves which gave her purpose, which made her consider the value of a home and a family and a life of security, which made her miss her mother and her snug little hobbit hole. Evie was so confident in her campaigns to assist others that she often did not let them aid her in return. But this, her association with the dwarves and with Thorin, this was cataclysmic, whether she realized it or not.

They were altering her life, day by day. It was not just their cause, which she found as meritable as any, but the dwarves themselves. Evie and Telchar were becoming fast friends; his blithe sense of humor cheered her when the others were being somber. She and Dwalin were making slow progress, and every time she earned a smile or a generous remark from him she celebrated it as a personal triumph. And then, of course, there was Thorin. Evie cycled through many groups of travelers on her various adventures, some of whom had become great friends, but she had never felt the companionship she was beginning to for these dwarves. She had never experienced the itching need to belong as strongly as she did now. Out of place wherever she went, the hobbit had submitted herself to a life of vagrancy, of perpetual wandering in and out of other people's lives. It wasn't until now that she finally experienced the alluring pull of permanence, of endurance.

The hobbit had never questioned her lack of stability before. Her life had been about adventure, about constantly moving and never stopping for too long- but now she realized maybe she was afraid to. Her father had often been gone when she was young, and in her desire to be like him perhaps she thought she would leave with him before she could be abandoned again. Before she could be that solitary, stationary object around which the world was moving at an incredible pace but who never changed, never grew or understood. Evangeline had decided long ago that adventuring was in her blood, but she had never truly paused to think about the fact that her father had still married her mother and made a home in the Shire, and that, above all else, the real joy of his life had been his daughter, his family. Now that she was getting older she was beginning to understand him a little better. She had been afraid of being left behind, but in turn it meant she had callously deserted her mother and ignored the importance of family in her life. Fellin had felt a sense of duty, of justice, which had called him to Moria. He had risked much, but in an attempt to gain even more.

"Do you really think so?"

Thorin asked, and Evie was torn away from her personal musings. It took her a moment to remember her last words, to remember the center of everything and the start of both of their lines, their destinies. Erebor. She knew the dwarf's question was more for himself than for her, but she answered it anyway.

"I do."

She reassured him, drawing a shallow breath. The hobbit took one of his large hands in both of hers and kissed it. Her soft lips wrapped around his knuckles, and the grace and humility of the gesture was almost too much for the dwarf to bear. His dark brow furrowed, his mouth falling open although no words would come. There were none for the heady rush which swiftly struck him, for the wild need growing in his aching heart.

"It is what you are meant to do."

Thorin felt more like a king in that moment than he ever had before, but also incredibly simple- as regal as she made him feel, the only thing he wanted to do was take her up in his arms and claim those exquisite lips for himself, to feel them against his own and revel in the sensation. He knew she was kissing his hand because it was all she could do- despite their mutual affections, they had not allowed themselves any true admissions and it would be improper for them to do so, even now. And so she reached out to him in the only way she knew how- and he received her in kind. Although he could not put his hands in her flowing blonde hair or taste the sweetness of her lips or her skin, he had already trespassed against propriety by letting her into his heart. The rest, he sensed, would come as it was meant to, even if for now they must be restricted to this. Soon, if chance or destiny or sheer power of will allowed it, he would find a home for Durin's Folk and then perhaps everything would be as he was beginning to think it was meant to. Erebor was a dream which would never lose its power over him, but more and more Evangeline Took was becoming another.

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Author's Note: Thank you so much for your lovely reviews! I've been writing a lot lately, but most of it is for a little farther along in the plot so I apologize for the delays in posting.

As to how far I'm going to take this, I'm not entirely sure but I'm hoping to go all the way to the Quest for Erebor, although I won't be writing the quest itself. So this story will be mostly just new things I made up, bringing Thorin closer and closer to reclaiming his homeland and giving him a bit of backstory. [although a lot of it will most likely be vignettes as the characters age]

In any case, thank you for reading and I hope this installment wasn't too dull! Lots of feelings. :X