Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or the Lord of the Rings. The OCs are my own creation.

Chapter One

"This way, my Lord," a dwarven servant said gruffly, leading the elves further into the sculpted caverns of Erebor from the massive gates.

Their King led the way, flanked by two of his best warriors, Celon and Nenar. The two had proven their worth and their loyalty many times to the king of the Greenwood. The Elven King trusted this pair with his life even now in the halls of the dwarves. His daughter, a young elleth barely considered an adult but already known for her beauty, followed her father. Two more warriors walked at her side, each fully prepared to defend their little princess with their lives. This pair of twins Helluin and Ascar had been personally trained from both Celon and Nenar from nearly the first day they could hold training swords. To them, he had entrusted the safety of his daughter, the light of his life. They knew the grave seriousness of this duty.

In very little time, the party reached the main cavern of Erebor and the walkway that led to the throne and the three generations of dwarves of Durin's line waiting there. Here, his warriors Celon and Nenar fell back a step, allowing their princess to step forward to her father's side. The Elven King extended his hand for his daughter to take so he could lead her along the smooth, stone walkway to the waiting dwarves.

The elf lord could easily sense his daughter's discomfort at being underground in this dark, cavernous mountain. She had grown used to the freedoms that Rivendell had offered and was, even now, still adjusting to her return to her family and her people. To be cut off from the life and energy of the forest was clearly not a healthy situation for her while she was so young, which made her father glad that they would not be staying in the mountain for long. He squeezed his daughter's hand lightly, hoping she would gain some comfort in the small gesture.

The King knew that his son knew less than him about comforting his daughter, a fact that reassured the elf lord that he was first in his daughter's heart, as she was in his. A quick thought went to his son who, for the day, ruled in his stead. His son had adjusted more quickly than she to their return to the Greenwood, rejoining the guard in patrolling the forest to learn more of the realm he would eventually rule.

The elves took a measured pace to approach the throne, each studying their surroundings. Helluin and Ascar watched the dwarves sharply for any threat to their princess while the more seasoned Celon and Nenar studied the mood of those surrounding the King Under the Mountain for signs of duplicity.

Thror sat on the stone throne of Erebor, the Arkenstone set in the stone above his head. His was a forbidding presence. To his left was a taller dwarf with a heavy beard and thick, fur robes. He was clearly not an advisor to the King Under the Mountain, for there was a great resemblance between the two. An honour guard stood behind this dwarf as well as behind the two dwarves to Thror's right, one of which were clearly related to Thror judging by the resemblance. The other was an advisor, judging by his attire, and he held a small chest in his arms, likely containing a gift for the visiting royalty. If he had to venture a guess, Thranduil would say that the robed dwarf was Thror's son Thrain and the other royal dwarf, the one dressed in the rich blues of dwarvish royalty, was Thrain's son Thorin.

Thranduil reached the end of the walkway and halted. He pressed his thumb into his daughter's hand softly, signalling for her to acknowledge the King of Erebor and his family as he had taught her when she was small. Mirilas slowly nodded her head; her eyes, which betrayed her skittish fear, stayed riveted on the dwarves as if she was afraid they would leap from their places and attack her. She had not yet learned to take comfort in her twin guards. Helluin and Ascar would protect her. She had nothing to fear so long as they were near her.

Beside her, Thranduil inclined his head to the King Under the Mountain in acknowledgement. Thror was watching him carefully, seeming to assess him to determine his purpose in coming here. The dwarf lord motioned toward the elves with a large, sturdily-built hand, signalling for his advisor to step forward and offer the chest to the Elven King.

Thranduil stepped forward, briefly releasing his daughter's hand to open the chest before him. Inside the metal chest was a necklace, his mother's necklace, resting on a bed of tiny white gems that shone in the dim light of the caverns. This was a rich gift indeed.

The Elven King nodded again to Thror as he shut the chest. Thror nodded in return before his lips curled up in a cruel smirk. He waved his hand, to which the advisor responded by taking the chest away with a small bow to the other king, removing the possibility that the Sindar elves could recover their heirlooms.

Thranduil's eyes hardened, but he dared not react outwardly. He would not provoke a war with so wealthy and well-defended a realm over so little. Instead, he stepped back to his daughter's side and held his hand out for her to take. She took it immediately, having been watching him closely with her doe-like eyes for clues as to what was expected of her. He knew that her teachers had taught such etiquette to her, but she was still young and lacked the confidence her rank would soon require of her.

"Shall we speak?" Thranduil questioned the dwarf lord, intent on both receiving an explanation for the retracting of this gift and on warning the dwarf of what hazards hoards of gold could bring down on his people.

"Yes," Thror growled with a nod. He quickly waved away his relatives before gesturing for the Elven King to approach.

As Thranduil stepped toward the dwarf on his throne, he subtly motioned to his warriors to close ranks around his daughter. They responded in unison by placing her in the centre of the four of them, hiding the princess from the dwarves' gazes. They would protect her.

The Elven King placed his hands behind his back as he asked the dwarf lord, "What is the meaning of this, Thror?"

"I thought you should see an item in my...collection, Elf King," Thror answered with a dark gleam in his eyes. "Why have you brought the she-elf?" he returned.

"I thought it wise to introduce my daughter to diplomacy between nations. You have served as an abominable example for her," Thranduil shot back.

"Maybe she'll learn what a real man is like and decide to stay," Thror ground out, escalating their insults and, so he thought, pressing his advantage.

Thrnduil clenched his jaw tight as he forced himself not to respond to the clear insult to his daughter. Instead, he said in warning to Thror, "You should check your greed, Dwarf. Amassing your wealth in gold could attract a fire drake."

"That will not happen. This mountain is impregnable," Thror insisted.

"Then you need not worry," Thranduil responded nearly flippantly before he turned to return to his party and thence to his realm.

Neither the King nor his daughter noticed that Thror's grandson had not once moved his eyes from the elf princess since she had arrived. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, a glittering vision of silver and white whose presence seemed to fill all the caverns of the mountain.

Thorin waled into the room in a daze, feet nearly dragging on the ground. His eyes were glazed over, sightless and dilated as though he was staring into a light rather than the darkness of the corridor.

"Thorin?" Balin called from a doorway down the hall, concerned at his prince's strange behaviour. He hadn't seemed himself since seeing the elves of Mirkwood, both suspicious and worrisome for a dwarf of Thorin's position. However, it was clear that none of the elves had had any opportunity to cast any spells or otherwise tamper with Thorin's mind. No, this dream-like spell of Thorin's was a product of his own mind.

Thorin paused at Balin's call, though he made no move to acknowledge the advisor.

"What ails you, Thorin? You have not been yourself in days," Balin probed.

Thorin turned toward Balin, though his eyes never focused. After a second, Thorin opened his mouth to speak, beginning in a low voice. "I've seen a vision, Balin...the most beautiful sight in all the world...and I can never have her."

Balin paused at Thorin's tone. It was clear that the dwarf prince was not mocking him or playing at emotions he did not truly feel. No. This was different. Thorin had always been stern, but his normal demeanour was nothing compared to the earnest sincerity and seriousness in his gaze. "You can't possibly mean Thranduil's daughter? Thorin! The elf clings to his daughter more tightly than a dragon to treasure!"

"Do you think I do not know that?!" Thorin spat out angrily. His voice cracked, betraying the at sadness he felt.

Balin sighed deeply before saying in resignation, "The heart wants what it wants..."

Thorin's eyes rose sharply at this. "You think she is my One?" he questioned, unclear in heart and in tone what answer he wanted o hear.

Balin took a quick breath in before letting it out slowly as he searched for any answer for his prince. Finally, he said, "I do not know, Thorin. Only you can know that. Do you feel the pull?"

Thorin sighed and looked down. There was no doubt in his heart, though his mind refused to accept what he felt. The dwarf prince looked up at his advisor, no longer caring of Balin's reaction as he said hoarsely, "Yes."