Disclaimer: I own nothing that comes from the minds of the great J.R. or Peter Jackson. Please do not sue a poor fan writer.

How in all of blessed Arda had it come to this? Some folk might brush it off as vestiges of his perilous adventure, the rush one feels when their life might be snuffed out at any moment and so their emotions become amplified. Others would sigh and look on with great big sparkling eyes as they recited pretty poetry about true love or some such sappy foolishness. Most would honestly chalk the predicament up to youthful imaginings. He really had no idea how to classify what was going on himself and that was his problem to begin with. Fine head he had on his shoulders, such excellent problem solving skills.

Through the boisterous laughter of Men and Dwarves alike he tried to start some distracting conversation with his brother but found his younger sibling utterly enraptured by the red headed female at his side. Of course, ever since the two had wed this past summer they had been absolutely insufferable. Now he was happy for Kili, never assume he wasn't, even if the fool went and fell hard head over clumsy feet for an Elf of all things. Although he had since learned that he should not tease too much, for now it was his turn to be the object of elbow jabbing and whispered puns when their uncle was not paying them mind. With a sigh he reached for his mug and downed the whole thing, waving over a server to refill it with ale. Keen blue eyes searched the crowd from the vantage point on the high table, looking for the source of his despondency. Having found her made him almost wish he hadn't, though that thought was quickly taken back as he would never wish to have her far from sight or mind, but still he would have rather liked to find her alone.

Crown Prince Fili, heir to the kingdom of Erebor fought the urge to leap over the table and punch the smirk off the face of a skinny human boy. The unsuspecting victim's crime? Flirting with Sigrid, Princess of Dale. Why? Because somewhere over the course of the last year, since the reclaiming of both their kingdoms, he found himself falling hopelessly for the honey haired, grey eyed lass. A daughter of Men, young even by the standards of her people and frail in form compared to his own. The years that he would no doubt live, long after she used up the short few allotted to her people should have daunted him from pursuing the lady. And yet he found himself caring more for what precious time he might have to share with her now than the distant future without. In his mind he thought back to just how the whole ordeal had started.

It had begun so minutely that he had spent more than one sleepless night just trying to recall where and when the tender feelings had first showed up. After much inner debate he concluded that the seeds of attraction had been planted from the moment he first laid eyes on her pretty face after making his very unbecoming entrance through her family's toilet. Wet, cold, shaking and smelling of fish he had welcomed the clean clothes she handed him and soon found his way in front of the fireplace. The three siblings were making the rounds, giving the company dry garments, disposing of the ruined ones they arrived in and eventually passing around mugs of steaming hot cider. It was Sigrid who came up to him bearing one such cup. She had tucked the wooden tray under one arm, he was the last in the long line already served. He smiled and thanked her, remembering the manners his mother had tried so hard to drill into his head over the years. Their finger tips brushed as the earthen ware mug passed from her to him and with only that slightest of touches he could tell that her skin was far softer than any Dwarrow's. Soft yet strong, his eyes were the keenest of the company and saw the callouses on slender fingers brought on from years of hard work.

"Thank you," he had said to her. "My uncle will never admit it but we are indebted to your family for putting us up like this." Their eyes met in truth for the first time and he thought how hers were akin to the sky after a storm.

"Da always says it is our duty and honor to help those in need," she smiled back and he swore his breath hitched a little for it. "Which one is your uncle?"

"The grumpy looking one." Looking over the crowded room that served as both kitchen, dining room and parlor, she nudged her head in the direction of Thorin. "Aye, that's him. Though I cannot say I blame him, I think I'll be smelling of trout for the next month."

"It is well that you are stranded in a fishing town then, most everyone smells like that," her giggle was infectious and he found himself chuckling along with her. "I'm Sigrid, though with fourteen of you I can't say I'll be able to remember your name but I can try."

"I'm Fili, at your service." At the time he dared say no more, not announcing whose son he was or where he hailed from, it was too risky then.

"Are you kin to the dark haired fellow, the tallish one? His name sounded similar to yours, but I've never met a Dwarf before so please don't take offense if I assume wrong." Sigrid silenced herself, turned a pretty shade of pink and fisting her hands into her apron. "Forgive me for rambling, it's just this day has been turned on it's head and I can't seem to right myself."

"There is no need to apologize to me, my lady, if anything it we who should be giving apologies to you and yours for taking over your house as we have." You would have thought he had offered her weight in gold the way her face turned an even deeper red and she mumbled her thanks in a stutter that came off as far more adorable than it should have. But before he might have had the chance to continue his conversation Thorin was calling him over to the window along with his brother. He and the bargeman's daughter only nodded to one another, small smiles were exchanged before she left his side to gather more blankets and he crossed the room to heed his uncle's call. She might have been just another face in a sea of faces he saw on that long journey, how little he knew then.

The rest of that first day was spent in a whirlwind, breaking into the armory, captured once again, going from being Bard's unwanted guests to the talk of town and drinking the stores of the Master. He remembered begging at Bard's house for help as Kili faded before his eyes. His brother looked like death, gray and gaunt. And then the bone chilling fear as Oin worked in vain to heal the seeping, black wound that caused Kili to scream and writhe in agony. Sigrid had worked alongside their healer, bringing him all the herbs they owned so her father might sort them, cutting new bandages, boiling water and working at keeping the ugly wound as clean as possible. It was really all a haze until after the Elves arrived, the fight with the Orcs a blur of blood and blades. One moment that stood out however was when one of the vile creatures set it's sights on Sigrid, her scream still echoed in his ears and with a shudder he remembered tackling the beast with no weapon save his bare hands to defend her.

Their brief goodbye on the shores of the lake before he left for the mountain was a silent one, she smiled but it did not reach her eyes and gave him a small wave which he half heartedly returned. After the battle, during the long, nightmare ridden hours of the following days, as he lay in a hospital tent he thought he had heard her voice. As he later learned it had been she was attending his bedside, though she had many other charges assigned to her at the time as well. When at last he was no longer sweating out the fever of infection and well enough to comprehend words she had told him how he was brought to her more dead than alive. Before they met she had been apprenticed to the head healer of Lake Town, who sadly had not survived the dragon fire. That made Sigrid the next best option the field hospital, so she rolled up her sleeves and dove into the horror left behind after their victory. When she learned of the dire wounds sustained by three of her former houseguests from an Elven nurse she demanded to be taken to them. There she watched as Gandalf and several of Mirkwood's best healers worked tirelessly to save the lives of him and his kin. She told him how only after their hearts were precariously deemed strong enough to continue beating, their flesh sewn together and bodies bandaged tight were others allowed within the surgeon's tent. King Thranduil offered his best healer to attend Thorin, his ill intent towards them suddenly changed. Tauriel refused to leave Kili's side and guarded him fiercely until her own wounds finally caught up with her and she was laid in a cot beside his. For some reason Sigrid returned to him whenever she could, though her own responsibilities were great. She brought broth for all three of them, her orders iron clad that solid food was strictly off limits until she gave them permission otherwise. And it was she who who re-bandaged their wounds when blood and poultices leaked through, she who with deft fingers stitched their torn flesh when their feverish thrashing ripped open the old thread.

When weeks passed and at last all three of them were deemed fit to walk she moved aside with that little smile of hers and returned to her duties. He had not seen her for more than a month after being moved to Erebor to begin overseeing the planning of rebuilding. They both had their people to look after, repairs to make to the mountain and Dale, preparations for winter needed to be made swiftly lest they be caught in a harsh season of snow and storms. With the help of the Elves the town of Men was made habitable with shipments of food and lumber, the same went for the Dwarves. All three races worked together as they had not done in over a century and for it they made it through the first thirty days of winter with only minimal casualties. When they met again it was for the new year of her people, held a little late but no one seemed to care very much about the date. It was a small celebration as they had not the resources to spare but the newly made King Bard had deemed it important to give his subjects something to lift their sprits. Sigrid was to be found dishing out bowls of hearty stew to the happy revelers instead of sitting at the high table looking down benevolently upon the common people. Fili was struck by the humility the new princess displayed, true the times were hard but even in desperate situations there were always those who took advantage, Lake Town's former Master came instantly to mind. He somehow managed to sneak away from his King's notice, though so had Kili and Tauriel, to made his way to the young woman busy changing one empty kettle for a fresh full one. She almost dropped it, the cast iron was no doubt heavy on it's own but the pot was filled to the brim with near boiling stew and he made a sprint to catch the side just as it was about to pour out all over her.

"Thank you," she gasped but was more concentrated on leveling the kettle on the table to pay heed to just who had helped her. When she saw him her eyes went a little wide, her hands again clenching in the folds of her stained apron in what had to be a nervous habit. "Prince Fili."

"Princess Sigrid." He recalled how she flinched at the title that first time it passed his lips, a little mirthless laugh escaping hers.

"I do not think I'll ever get used to be called that," she told him.

"And yet it's what you are, what you've really always been it's just that circumstances were not exactly ideal to fit the title." Why he spoke so candidly was a mystery and even shocking to him the moment the words left his mind.

"You speak from experience."

He knew she was young, even if she had passed her majority a few years previous but still painfully young compared to him. And yet there was certainty behind her words. The steel that surely ran through her slim form had kept her strong through the struggles that had plagued her whole life, it spoke of someone who had been forced to grow up far too soon. If there had been any difference in the way they had met he would have probably looked the other way not long after the barest of introductions had been made and would have never known otherwise what he had missed. He knew this, had it been before he left on the quest he would have gone on as always galavanting with mischief on his mind or locking himself away for long hours at the forge. But it hadn't and suddenly everything was clear and hazy, exhilarating and terrifying.

"I do."

"Then we have that in common, Prince Fili."

That had been the start of a very unusual yet fulfilling friendship. He felt a little guilty that his time with Sigrid was almost ignored while his brother seemed to be under constant supervision every instance he spent more than twenty minutes in the company of his Elven lady. Kili had made it very public that he intended to court Tauriel, damn the consequences and prejudices. While she was no longer banished for daring to protect the one she loved it was clear that some in Mirkwood would not be welcoming to the former captain. Fili had come in, betting on his newly beneficial status as Crown Prince to stand by the couple's side and argue their marriage as an important political alliance in the first steps to reestablishing good will between their kingdoms.

Through it all he exchanged letters with Sigrid, keeping her abreast of events within Erebor and she offering support and advice in return. Meanwhile the city of Dale never seemed to sleep. He could see from his bedroom window, one carefully hidden on the face of the mountain, that the lights were barely extinguished, the sounds of hammers rang throughout all hours of the night. In one letter that left him feeling deathly cold inside, she described to him the mass grave that was dug to bury the last petrified remains of Smaug's victims. There were stains of tears upon the parchment where she wrote of laying down the ashy shell of a child no older than her little sister. Sweet Sigrid with her big heart and spine of iron.

They saw one another again at the frequent meetings their respective kings called every two weeks in those first few months of rebuilding. At first there was some debate as to whether or not she should be accompanying her father but she held firm that as Lady of Dale she had as much right as her brother, the heir, to be privy to the political goings on that directly affected her people. One instance that stood out in their early acquaintance occurred in the early days of spring as she watched her younger brother learn the basics of swordplay in a courtyard set up at the halfway point between the two cities. The area had been chosen as common, neutral, ground where all might come together for public hearings or festivities. At the time is was filled with Dwarves, Men and even a few Elves unafraid to be seen with the other races, as despite the chill in the air they sparred and built the start of new garrisons. More than a few women had turned out to watch the men practice, an age old tradition that always proved to be quite an incentive for those in the ring. But even if his new friend had an ulterior motive other than watching her brother's progress she gave no outward hint. Instead she asked the occasional question about the lessons her father laid out and Fili answered them gladly. But when he asked her if she would like to learn as well her answer caught him completely by surprise.

"Well I should know enough to defend myself, I suppose. Da did teach me how to stun a man should I need to make a quick escape. Those Orcs...were nothing we could have expected. But...I don't think I could ever...kill someone. I've had enough death around me to last a lifetime, I couldn't add to that count myself."

"Sigrid of Dale, I have never known anyone quite like you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Only the highest of compliments, I assure you."

By Midsummer Erebor was almost well on the way to be deemed habitable, not near fully restored of course but with the assistance of Dain's people the ventilation and water systems along with many of the living areas were ready to see use again. Which was a grand thing as the first caravans began to arrive, whole families returning to the Lonely Mountain bringing with them much needed skills and the sheer numbers needed to run the huge city. It was also the day of his brother's wedding, some Elf tradition of marrying on the solstice bringing fertility to the couple. Their mother had only arrived a fortnight before and while Thorin had written to her months in advance of her younger son's choice of bride it was still quite the emotional reunion. Dis was wary at first but grew to respect her future daughter in law after hearing of just how many times she had saved Kili's life. That and how she appeared to be the only female besides Dis herself who could corral Kili when his bravado got the best of him. All the while he and the honey haired princess whispered and laughed with their eyes behind deceitfully calm faces. The wedding itself was small, or at least small enough as a second prince could get away with, but the fact that their realm was not yet filled with all their subjects might have been something to do with it. As it was the affair had been family centered, nice enough even though it was held outside and had entirely too many flowers scattered about.

It was also the first time he had ever seen Sigrid in a gown that was not a patched hand me down or of homespun make. Trade had begun again in earnest within the city of Men now that their share of the treasure in the mountain could be spent and Bard had gifted each of his children a new suit of clothes worthy of their station. She wore a silk creation of powder blue and vibrant yellow, embroidered with metallic thread in a simple vine pattern, cinched with a gold cord. The sleeves were tight on her arms, ending in points around delicate wrists, the belt emphasizing her slender waist. And the neckline while still modest lay slightly off her shoulders baring her collar in the warm weather. The only adornment she chose was an uncomplicated silver necklace studded with sea glass, a memento of her mother. Her hair flowed freely down her back in soft curls, the occasional daisy woven in through it.

The dress brought out the bright hue of her eyes, the taller and slender shape of her body.

Hers was a quiet beauty, one unspoiled by expensive trinkets or elaborate decoration.

Somehow over the course of the evening he found himself watching his brother and new sister in law as they danced. The familiar, mischievous urge to tease his little brother was not to be felt, not even a little. Instead his eyes never left the couple as Kili lead Tauriel in a Dwarven dance which was obviously unlike anything she had experienced in Mirkwood. But they laughed through it, tripping and spinning through the song. He swore they might have been glowing in their happiness. And it was not long after that when he was pulled from his disturbingly romantic thoughts by a tugging on his sleeve. Grey eyes sparkled like silver in the torch light, looking right at him.

"You haven't danced once all night and I won't have it another moment!"

The musicians struck up a lively tune that was answered by a roar of approval from the people of the lake. Before the long table a crowd quickly filled the wooden dance floor, couples pairing off sporadically over it, certainly this was no complicated line dance as he was used to. Sigrid was smiling and tugging him from his seat, sending longing looks out to the floor.

"I-I do not know the steps." Had he truly stuttered over that sorry excuse?

"Then I'll lead. Now come, silly Dwarf, you can't sit alone like a barnacle stuck to your seat at your brother's wedding!" There was no chance to fight back, one hard pull and he was half falling from his chair and being hauled out like a pet on a leash behind one very determined lady.

They danced almost every set for the remainder of the party, pausing only to find a quick drink to revitalize them before rushing out for another go. Together they taught one another the favorite dances of their people, folk dances, line dances, slow and fast, it mattered not. Of course this did not go unnoticed by the hawk eyes of their respective elders and more than once were both of them reminded of the societal rules and implications of dancing so exclusively. And this was of course brushed aside in return, it had not mattered before they assumed the power behind their inherited titles and they would not let it matter now. During one of the few breaks they allowed themselves this was the topic of conversation as they sipped sweet honey mead.

"Da is suddenly so concerned with propriety, if I didn't know any better I'd say the Elven wine had gotten to his head."

"Mother has been trying to drill etiquette into our heads since birth. It's not like I don't know how and when to use it but forge and hammer it's my brother's wedding!"

"Mayhap for a more...somber event, something ripe with political intrigue or something," she shook her head, seemingly searching her thoughts for the right words. "You know what I mean." A pale pink blush colored her cheeks, clearly the drink was a wee bit stronger than she was used to.

"Exactly! There's no visiting dignitaries, no over anxious lasses trampling over each other to get in line should I even breathe that I might fancy a dance." Looking back it was obvious he had been drinking just a little too much that night as well.

"Was that normal in the Blue Mountains? Ladies scrambling to lay hands on the Crown Prince?" She seemed entirely too amused with the image he had painted, he threw back his mug glaring at her pointedly over the rim.

"Others might consider them 'ladies' but blood hounds might be more accurate," he groused.

"Oh, so we of the female kind are like hunting dogs?"

"I never said you were lumped in with that comparison," he said swiftly, trying to dissuade the angry look from her face. "You, Sigrid, are more a lady than anyone I've ever met!" Somehow along the way he had set aside his cup and hers to take those pale hands in his own. "They were born to the title and saw it as reason enough for my attention. But you, you earned yours with your willingness to stand alongside your people in their suffering. You who is unafraid to work the fields and kitchens if need be , to open her heart to those in grief instead of hiding in her fine house lest she dirty her hands. If any woman ever deserved the to be called Lady, let alone Princess, it is you."

Sigrid looked down at him, her lips fallen open in shock, the flush in her cheeks spreading, seemingly a loss for words. She nibbled on her lower lip, the sight brought forth just for a moment the thought of tasting those lips for himself. The drink must have truly gone to his head that night.

"You know, that you were the first person to ever call me 'lady'."

"Than I am proud to have such a high distinction."

After the bride and groom had been carried off to their chambers, with much fanfare and colorful language from the groom's side, the party at last began to slow it's course. The final songs were sung, the little food left over was cleared away to be given out the following day. Those who could walk began the trek home, those who could not were given rides back on the carts that brought both passengers and gifts earlier. Friends made their goodbyes and so the Kings and Dale and Erebor took their leave of one another, their families in tow behind them. That was the first night Fili dreamed of Sigrid. In his mind's eye he saw her dancing, blue skirts twirling around her long legs, sun kissed hair flying about her laughing face. And those striking eyes, bright as mithril, gazing back at him.

As the summer continued so did their near daily correspondence. By now the ruined front gate of Erebor was restored to it's former glory, the Hall of Kings was hung with new tapestries and the now golden floor utilized as a gleaming centerpiece despite it's dubious origins. Thorin ordered the forges to be attended to next, having suffered great distress not only from the dragon but the Company's attempt at slaying said beast. If the mountain were to thrive they would need to begin supporting themselves as quickly as possible, even with the horde that could easily buy all the imports in Middle Earth. No, Dwarves were workers not matter their station and would go mad if left with idle hands. All of this Fili told Sigrid in his letters and in return he learned of the new harvest being enjoyed in Dale. The Desolation could take a lifetime to fully recover from the burn of dragon fire but plots beyond the city of Men closer to the water were found to be fertile with the added assistance of Radagast the Brown. Further down the river Esgaroth was slowly being torn down only to rise again anew, larger and better than anyone had ever hoped for. It was still far too early to know just how well this new town on the water would grow but those who once dwelled there were optimistic. Even in the mountain progress was celebrated only shortly, there were still long months and years ahead until at last their homes might be called complete.

After a tiring day of hard labor and mind melting politics he would find himself rereading her letters by the light of a crystal hewn lamp. He could see how her penmanship improved over time from constant practice and a slanted, swirling style slowly develop. She had been embarrassed to admit at first that she had never much reason to write before, only knowing the letters enough to not scribble out something totally indecipherable. In the time between writing he would take any chance to join a contingent to Dale, always making time to spend in the company of the princess under whatever excuse that fit best. Sometimes they would tour the city, she pointing out improvements that were not yet finished when last he visited. Other times they would just sit in her solar within the newly completed mansion of her ancestors and he would play fiddle for her. Only his brother ever commented on his friendship with the young woman. He found himself grateful for the ignorance of others, not wanting to share his relationship to Sigrid with anyone. That word gave him pause one night as he grinned over a silly story of her younger siblings he was sure he might have memorized some time ago. Relationship, such a word might imply a plethora of implications that left the breath stilling in his chest. By autumn that damned word might as well have been a curse, perhaps a sweet one but a curse none the less.

Author's Note: Well, my last one shot left me feeling rather sad so I went and tried to make myself happy again. Fili just happens to be my favorite of the brothers and I just can't help but be hopelessly devoted to pairing him with Sigrid, they're just too cute. So as this is only my second foray into this fandom I'm curious how you all liked it. Good? Bad? Somewhere in the middle? I also found the first version of this story too long for my liking to call it a one shot, so I split it in half. Stay tuned for part two! Until next time, happy reading!