Dinner had ended, and the guests had begun to disperse. Evie hung back as she watched Thorin speak briefly with some of his advisers; Belinir in particular seemed to have more than a few things to say to the king. Eventually he parted from their company, turning to exit the room. The dwarf froze in place when he saw that Evie was waiting for him by the door. He approached the healer, his eyes demonstrating to her that he knew exactly what she would want.

"Thorin, may I speak with you?"

She asked quietly, using his personal name, and watched as the line of his jaw set even more sternly than before. She felt a small hiccup of fear bubbling at the back of her throat but she ignored it, trying to catch onto her previous bravery.

"Tomorrow."

He told her, and it sounded almost like an order. His voice was softer than she had expected, yet the tone was irrefutable.

And that was it. He bid her good evening and she just stared at him as though he had transformed into an entirely different creature right before her eyes. Where was the amorous dwarf who had given her the ring she wore around her neck? Where was the blacksmith, toiling over his anvil in order to provide for his people in whatever way he could, yet allowing himself just one night of innocent dalliance with an old acquaintance? Where was the proud prince who had so often been surprised by her? Now he was the one acting in such a manner, but in a way which made the hobbit's blood boil within her very veins.

Evie was frustrated, in every sense of the word. One moment he was kissing her hand and she was right back in Gondor upon their second meeting, and the next he was cold and distant and curt and she felt her heart become stone in response to his taciturnity. Was he truly indifferent to her, or was there so much more going on that she could not begin to understand? Dis had given her hope, but his own actions had caused her much reason to doubt that fragile, fluttering thing.

Evie did not know what to think, or what to feel. She bid her new friends good evening and allowed Balin to escort her to her room, largely in silence. The greying dwarf turned to her, outside her door, advising the guest,

"Keep your head up."

Evie's grey eyes widened, and the aging dwarf winked at her, a smile falling on his lips. He was one of Thorin's closest companions, and she was inspired by his friendliness and confidence in her, yet this seemed just one more suggestion meant to confuse her. How could everyone else feel so confident in Thorin's affections, when she herself did not feel them? She thought she knew him, she thought… She thought many things, and most of them had been challenged by her short time in Ered Luin. The hobbit could only hope that her second day would prove better than her first.

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Evangeline Took couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned, tugging the sheets over her body one way and then another in an attempt to get comfortable. It wasn't that the bed was too hard (it was actually quite soft and she enjoyed the way her body sunk into it), or that the room was too cold (someone had lit a small fire in the fireplace, which was still burning), but she simply could not find peace.

Troubled grey eyes stared desperately up at the ceiling, at the tiling on the walls and all the rich green colors muted by the darkness. The dying fire in the corner lit up part of the room, and for a few minutes she absentmindedly watched the light of the flames lick up across the smooth stone, creating moving pictures on the wall around the fireplace. But this still did not calm her, and she found herself flipping herself in yet another direction. She hated this place. Or it wasn't that she hated it, really, but that perhaps she felt that she was too capable of loving it? She hated it for that, for feeling like somewhere she could belong while her situation was so unsure. No, hate was too strong a word, after all. Hobbits did not often hate. And, if anything, she recognized that it was truly jealousy which fueled her tormented nighttime contemplations. Envy for a life she wanted but might never have, for those who could live out the lives they wanted without all the pressures and obligations she and Thorin were burdened with, who could live simply and happily. She wondered for a moment what things would have been like if he had not been an Heir of Durin. If he had been another dwarf – perhaps a true blacksmith or, or… Evie shook her head, running her fingers through her blonde curls. She cared for him because of who he was, everything that he was. And his kingship was a fundamental part of his identity. He would not be the dwarf he was without it, without the constant, drumming thought of the fires of Erebor, without the pressing obligation he felt to his people… No one desired these heavy afflictions, but the dwarf who carried them was their product in every sinew.

And now we are back to that, Evie thought to herself, grabbing a weak fistful of the sheets and twisting them in her hands. The longer she was here the more frustrated she got with the whole situation, but also the more she wanted to fight to be able to stay. To remain with her friends, new and old, to get to know Dis and Fildur and Balin better and reconnect with Dwalin and Telchar… And Thorin. Always, Thorin. May he be cold and distant, may his eyes turn away from her as they had so rarely done before; it only made her desire for him stronger. His actions were so contrary to what Dis had been telling her, about his preparations for her visit and the room he built her… But it was as she had always tried to tell herself – a promise is only a collection of words, until it is enacted. Theirs was not, and as she tugged the ring out from under her nightgown and rolled it between her thumb and forefinger, she tried to reconcile reality with fantasy. She had come here with a purpose, and while her cause was not so totally discouraged just yet, her desired future was looking rather grim. Yet to give up now, after everything… No, that was not an option. Evie breathed in, watching the dim light catch the silver edges of the ring.

He still cared for her. He must. He had spoken well of her at dinner, and to his sister… Even Dwalin and Balin seemed reassuring; although there was definitely something more going on under the surface that Evie wasn't aware of. She was sure it had to do with Belinir, whose questions at dinner had made her feel like a criminal under interrogation. But she had proved herself, she thought, in the end. He would favor her, she was determined of it. She had given so much to the happiness of Durin's Folk, wasn't she allowed to partake in it?

It was altogether too much, the hobbit realized ruefully, and finally sat up in bed. She knew there was always one thing which would help her clear her head, and that was a bit of fresh air and a short walk. She didn't know if she could have either while at Ered Luin, but she might as well make a try for it. She slipped out of bed, tugging the cover to her nightgown tightly around her diminutive frame to shield off the immediate cold. Shivering, the healer lit the candle sitting on her bedside stand. The little light seemed encouraging enough, so she padded to the door and opened it, stepping through.

The halls were dark, the high ceilings yawning above her as she snuck down the hall. She was not thinking about being so quiet, but her natural hobbit nature and her tenseness at being caught doing something which could be deemed 'inappropriate' (as she now realized sneaking around in the middle of the night most certainly would be) kept her feet slow and silent, as was the way of her race. She crept along, passing doorways to her right and left, each separated by a fair amount of space. There must be large chambers within, she thought as she continued on, looking for… Well, she didn't really know what she was looking for.

She found it, however, for at the end of the hall there was a door which looked very different from the others. As she got closer, the blonde realized it was, indeed, a door to the outside. She opened it cautiously, very careful not to make much noise. Once she was outside, her breath was immediately stolen by the gentle wind as it ghosted across her skin, making her curls dance around her face and snuffing out her candle. She stepped forward to the edge of the balcony, her small hands gripping the thick stone railing tightly as she looked hundreds of feet down the edge of the mountain. It was beautiful – the plains extended before her nearly infinitely, all bathed in the blue shades of nighttime, the mountains were to her right and to her – Evie's heart stopped dead in her chest.

To her left stood Thorin Oakenshield. He was wearing a dark tunic and a fur lined overcoat, and leaning against the railing of the balcony watching her with indiscreet amusement. As she noticed him and her grey eyes widened, her small mouth falling open in disbelief, the corner of his lips tugged up into a smile, as he was wont to do when he was poking fun at her. She couldn't even muster the gumption to feel angry, she was so surprised by his presence here.

"I –" She began, but what could she say?! "My lord, I did not know that you were… I simply wanted a little fresh air; I couldn't…"

"Neither could I."

She froze, staring at him as if he was an apparition. The way he was looking at her… Evie wasn't sure if she had ever seen him look at her that way before. She watched his eyes catch the ring where it rested on top of her nightgown. It was only now that she realized she had not tucked it back underneath her clothing, and she did so now, feeling hot under his gaze.

"You still wear my ring."

The hobbit wanted to turn and give him her best scathing look, but the way he said it, the almost desperate, hopeful tone of his voice… No, she was imagining things. She was projecting –

"I should go. I did not mean to disturb you, my king..."

She mumbled, turning away from him.

"No, please stay."

He asked, and she felt as if the ground was shifting beneath her. She looked back at him, her grey eyes alight with feeling. It was as if she had been waiting for him to ask her that for far longer than she cared to admit. How could she say no?

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Author's Note: And here we are! The next chapter is my absolute favorite, as you will see very shortly! I don't have much to say at the moment, other than that I can never express enough how much I cherish your comments, as they give me the encouragement and energy to keep writing diligently and keep updating. Each one means the world to me, and I can't believe so many of you are following along! I've truly come to love this story, and I'm very excited to discover along with you where it will go!

Also, in case you're interested, this chapter and the next are named for Helen Jane Long songs which helped inspire me as I wrote them… This and part of the next were written to 'Turn Away' and the last bit of the next was written to 'Through the Dark.' They should be on youtube if you look them up – one link to the full album (if this website will allow me to sneak it to you) is youtube dot com slash watch?v=NfNhZwyQQEk or check out 'Porcelain (full album) Helen Jane Long' in the search bar.

Sorry for the cliffhanger on this one, I just couldn't resist and the next chapter should be quite long!