My Dear Frodo,

You asked me once if I had told you everything there was to know about my adventures. And while I can honestly say I have told you the truth, I may not have told you all of it.

I am old now, Frodo. I'm not the same Hobbit I once was.

I think it is time for you to know what really happened.

Bilbo ended the note with a faint smile before opening the leather-bound book he had been keeping for this particular story. The red leather had once been too painful to see – its shine too familiar to bursts of flame that sometimes still hounded him. But now, with so much time passed and a new era dawning, it was time to pass on this tale.

His hand ghosted over the supple cover, stopping at the intertwined silver B's at one corner before he opened it and felt a gasp leave his lips as his own eyes stared up at him.

He lifted the sketch from the page where it had been safely tucked, and traced the outline of the much younger face he once wore. It was not the only one that had been stored within these pages, he realised as a dozen thin sheets slid out from behind it.

Most were very rough outlines, memories that he had been desperate to recapture upon his return but the charcoal had never done them justice – never captured a laugh or a groan at another campfire tale, never quite soft enough around the gleaming eyes of his companions.

There were only a few he had managed to fully complete. One was particularly striking; a mountain, far off in the distance with a raven heading straight for it. Not a raven, he recalled with a smile; a thrush. He could still feel the sunlight warming him after their escape and could see the joy in their leader's eyes as his home loomed before them.

His favourite was the one that had taken the longest; a landscape of sixteen faces. He had used rough sketches of them from their time together to create it. The tiny pieces of paper had been just enough to capture the different smiles, the thickness of their furs and the happiness of sixteen people as they became a family.

The portrait of himself was different to the others, which made sense as it was not his hand that had completed it. The shading of the column of his throat and the definition in his hair spoke of a much more talented artist, one that had been taught this particular art form.

They had been sketching together underneath an oak tree just outside the Mountain. He remembered it all so clearly. Thirteen men were failing to hide their exhaustion as they helped rebuild their home and it was only when a basket of food was revealed did they finally hand over to a younger group of eager residents, desperate to make their mark on this place, and join them in the shade.

Their congregation on that patch of still-dusty grass had marked the end of their journey together and the sketches exchanged between the two artists as their companions dozed in the afternoon sun were promises of remembrance – promises to never forget what they did together, what they overcame and what they had achieved.

He reshuffled the sheets and placed them to one side, his favourite on top to act as encouragement as he wiped the empty page clean of any dust before dipping his quill into the inkpot.

He took a breath before letting the words flow from him; their inky marks the beginning of a tale that most could only imagine.

It began long ago in a land far to the East, the like of which you will not find in the world today…

"For a dwarven princess, you're actually terrible at this." Eleonóra teased, laughing as Dis glared at her via the mirror.

"Maybe if you weren't such a fidget…" Dis dug a finger into her best friend's side as the blonde continued to laugh at her attempts to copy the intricate braid her maid had woven her hair into that very morning. "…it'd look better." She pinned a final piece into place and stepped back. "I give up." She huffed, falling into a waiting armchair as the pin failed to hold and the coiled plait collapsed

"Thank Mahal." Ellie muttered, reaching behind her head to try and untangle the mass of knot's Dis had managed to tie in place of the beautiful plait that adorned her own head.

They fell into a comfortable silence as Ellie prodded around, frowning as she found knots tied deeper and deeper in the cascade of hair.

"It's funny how often I forget you aren't my actual sister." Dis sighed, watching her best friend's brow furrow in a way that was strangely Durin as she hit a particularly tight knot. "You look so much like Frerin when you're frustrated…"

"I've told you a thousand times; stop telling me I look your brother – it's not as much of a compliment as you think it is."

"It's the hair." Dis waved away Eleonóra's eyeroll. "And the fact you basically grew up together so you pull the same faces and have these little 'in' jokes."

"It's really not my fault you were born nine years after me." Ellie reminded her.

"I'm a princess; I'm allowed to pout over silly things like the fact that my brothers have spent more time with you."

"Yes, it's been an absolute delight listening to them discuss how best to attack me in 'training sessions'." She let out a victorious cheer as she finally freed her fingers from Dis' mess.

"You love them really."

"Yes." Eleonóra smiled to herself. "I do."

It was no secret among dwarves that the three heirs of Erebor were close to the young woman that their father had opened their home too after a sixteen-year-old Eleonóra was suddenly and horrifically orphaned after her father's mining accident.

"You and Thorin will have such gorgeous children." Dis sighed wistfully as Ellie's hands stalled in her hair; the princess having effectively broken her from her thoughts.

"Dis." The name was a warning to not continue this conversation.

"I'm just saying." She defended herself as Eleonóra continued to glare at her. "You're both-"

"Dis." She silenced the princess. "I love you dearly, but if you don't stop trying to get Thorin and I betrothed-"

"But you're perfect for each other!"

"Stop it, Dis." She turned to face the woman as she finally managed to slide her fingers through her hair without getting them stuck. "Thorin is practically my brother; we have no interest in each other."

"You'd be Queen one day."

"I have no desire to be Queen." Ellie told her, gathering her hair over one shoulder as she began to weave it into a relatively simple braid.

"Fine." Dis sighed again. "I promise to never mention it again." She forced herself from the chair. "I understand your reluctance I suppose." Ellie quirked an eyebrow at the wandering princess. "It's not like Durin Queens have the best luck: grandmother died having Father, Mother died having me…" She trailed off, Ellie's hands slipping sadly from her finished braid.

"Dis…" She rose from the stool at the princess' vanity. "…that's not it at all." She reached her friend and pulled her close, sighing as the still young dwarrowdem's arms wrapped around her midriff. "Thorin taught me to swing a sword and how to make the boys who picked on me run away…your family took me in when my entire world collapsed around me…there aren't people I love more in the whole of Middle-Earth; just not in that way."

"I know." Dis pulled away from their embrace as Ellie pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "But you can't blame me for wanting to make you my sister for real." She smiled and Ellie was glad that her bought of sadness seemed to have passed.

"Tell me about Harlun." Eleonóra grinned as Dis' face began to flush a subtle shade of pink at the sound of the young man that had been loitering around the princess. While still too young to wed, the hand of a Durin princess was a matter to not be taken lightly so the opportunity to tie her name to a promising young lad was something Thrain was eager to achieve.

"Nothing's been confirmed yet." She reminded her with a small smile. "But father invited him hunting with him, Thorin and Frerin so…"

"So we'll be marrying you off anytime soon." Eleonóra finished for her, nudging her with a grin and the pair began to laugh.

"Your Highness, My Lady…" The women turned as a new voice entered the room and Dis waved in the maid loitering in the doorway. "…You asked me to find you when it was a quarter to the hour."

"Wonderful; thank you." Eleonóra beamed at the maid as she curtsied and left the pair.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm meeting your brother at the forges."

"Which brother?" They shared a look before Dis broke out into a grin at her best friend's reluctance to voice the name of her eldest brother. "I'm saying nothing." She laughed at the glare Ellie threw her way as she headed for the door of the princess' chambers. "Have fun!" She called behind her, dissolving into further giggles as the door slammed behind her.

Erebor was, as usual, full of life as Eleonóra made her way from the royal chambers on the upper-most levels of the Mountain fortress and down into its fiery depths where the forges burned day and night.

As her feet trod the familiar path to the smelting stations of the famed mines, she let her mind wander to Dis and the royal family. Today wasn't the first time the princess had broached the subject of marrying her eldest brother to her best friend, and Eleonóra knew it wouldn't be the last, despite her promise otherwise.

Admittedly, the Crown Prince and the female dwarf were close. Very close. She'd lived with the royal family for many years and had grown close to Thrain's three children with each having assumed a different role in her life.

Dis was her best friend and sister in all but blood. She'd still been fairly young when Eleonóra had joined the family and very confused at the fact that her brothers constantly talked about the woman who had died bringing her into the world; the woman she'd never met. Eleonóra had been tasked with bringing the child out of her shell and the pair had been inseparable ever since.

Frerin was definitely the interfering brother figure in her life. The pair had known each other since they were children – a closeness with the King's family only one of the many perks her father enjoyed as the King's best diamond miner. The blonde prince was constantly dropping in on her with new tales from his warrior training and a bawdy joke learnt from his comrades. He could often be found lounging across the sofa in her chambers with a grin on his lips and a new tease at the ready.

Thorin was the enigma. While Dis and Frerin were unquestionably her sister and brother…Thorin was something else. He had never shunned her or argued with his father's decision to welcome her into their life after her own father's death but…well they shared a different closeness.

Dis was wonderful at keeping her up to date on Erebor's gossip and the latest styles among the dwarrowdams, and Frerin was responsible for the sharp blade on her sword and her ability to 'think fast' as he came at her with a dagger (for training purposes only, of course). But Thorin was a source of solace from the two.

He was quick with a smile and always laughed at her jokes, but their time together was spent discussing politics and strategy as he returned from his Grandfather's council meetings. They shared a love of books and when her thirst for battle knowledge was going un-quenched by the royal library, he all but dragged her out into the training yard and thrust a sword into her hand.

The eldest prince had a strange ability to make her feel completely at ease and that was the only reason she had agreed to meet him at her family forge.

The mine and the forge had been passed down through the generations, ensuring that anything mined in her family name was smelted using their methods and to their standards; they cut no corners on quality. The fact that anything they produced was of Dwarven origin was a promise of perfection in itself, but the attachment of that simple name? It had forged more than perfect items. It was responsible for a generations old link with the throne itself and when the mines hit on a hoard of diamonds so clear they could be using to see through? It was the only way she'd been able to hold onto the business following her father's death.

Hands clasped in front of her, she shook her head free of all thoughts of her father and instead focused on approaching the lone figure basking in the heat of the forges as silently as possible.

"Boo."

The Prince merely smiled as she moved to stand in front of him.

"You're in good spirits today." He noted. "I'd say it was the prospect of spending the afternoon with me but I fear otherwise."

"An afternoon inspecting jewels with my favourite Durin; who else would this smile be for?"

"Don't let my father hear that." He offered her his arm. "He firmly believes he is your favourite."

"Then it shall be our secret." She tucked her arm under his and let him lead her into the sweltering heat of the forges.

The forges were an intimidating place to young dwarves taking their first steps into the underbelly of Erebor but to Eleonóra they were a second home. She had spent her childhood alternating between the family business and playing with Frerin and Thorin, so the men here were more than sweltering strangers; they were an extended family who had watched her grow.

Waving to various workers as they moved through the impressive works; past the furnaces and the workstations, past the vats of molten gold and the enormous moulds crafted to cool it in and towards the craft-stations at the very back.

This was a much quieter area of the forges; the benches were the last place the magnificent creations that Erebor produced were held. It was here that the more intricate work went on; where rough outlines of moulded metal were honed on smaller fires to produce works of art in the form of necklaces and earrings.

They were here to collect the housing for what was to be Erebor's most prestigious commission to date; a necklace of pure white-gold that shone like silver, set with white gems of pure starlight.

The metal had been sourced from the best mines in the Mountain while the gems had been sent straight from Mirkwood itself. They were unlike anything Eleonóra had ever seen and had spent days captivated by their ethereal glow as she and her finest craftsman had sketched designs for their housings.

Diamonds were the primary export from her family mine and she employed the best crafters in the mountain to work with the transparent gems; eager to find ways of displaying them that wouldn't dim their beauty. There had been no arguments when her men were selected to work with the unusual jewels.

The final sketch had been approved and sent back from Mirkwood a few weeks earlier and the housing had finally been completed by other dwarf workers before being set upon her benches yesterday.

She had spent the day watching her men painstakingly prepare the gems for setting and the final touches had been made this morning. She was more than eager to see the finished product.

"It's been an honour to work on King Thranduil's project." She told Thorin as they approached the bench holding only a plump cushion. The necklace would be cradled atop it, as they always were when being presented, but she could already see some of the starlight glowing from the crushed velvet and fought the urge to run to it.

"The honour will be his when he is in possession of dwarf mastery." He said with a half-smile as they finally reached the table and Eleonóra let out a gasp at the sight of the piece. "And mastery it is." He murmured from beside her as he reached across the bench to shake hands with the nervous crafters waiting behind it. "Excellent job, gentlemen." He continued to thank each one personally as Eleonóra reached out to touch the gems.

They were warm to the touch; it still baffled her. Every other gem she had ever held had been cold as though still a part of the rock it had been chipped from, but these were warm as though the stars themselves were encased inside. It wasn't possible, she knew that, but their unnatural glow and the feeling of otherworld-ness that surrounded them continued to fascinate her.

"Ellie?" Thorin's voice broke her from her reprieve and the small crease between his brows suggested he'd called her name a number of times. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, of course." She straightened from the necklace and looked to her workforce. "Just checking it over." She explained. "You've outdone yourself." She beamed. "It's perfect."

The dwarves relaxed in front of her as they shared her smile. This had been a demanding project, she knew that; the Elven King was set to arrive within the week and any error on this piece would be immediately noted. Not that she'd ever doubted them.

"I'll have it collected this evening." Thorin told them as it was lifted from the cushion and placed inside a small, almost flat box. "Thank you again."

The men bowed once as the box was tucked beneath one's arm and they disappeared.

"Thranduil should be pleased that we didn't use all of the gems he sent over." Eleonóra commented as Thorin once again offered his arm to her. "Though why he thought we'd need an entire chest full for one simple necklace baffles me. How big is his Queen's neck?"

The battlements were one of her favourite places in the entirety of Erebor. She wasn't sure if it was due to the spectacular views afforded to her as she stood so high in the mountain or if it were simply the fact that up here, with cool breezes caressing her face, she was so very far from the pits that had claimed her father.

Either way, it was her sanctuary and one of the few places here that she could actually be alone; or as alone as one can be with a royal guard hiding at the entrance.

This was her favourite balcony; it was hidden from view as you approached the mountain but when you were stood on the smooth stone you could see for miles. Dale was full of life today, she mused; the children were playing through its streets and she could hear the din of market traders battling for trade from even this far out. But there was a comfort in that noise; so different from the endless clanging of mining and she lapped it up like a cat at a saucer of milk.

Eyes closed to the breeze, her lips quirked into a soft smile as a pair of boots joined her on the stone. With an almost silent dismissal of her guard, Thorin stepped out into the sunshine and joined her at the stone battlements.

"How did it go?" She asked, not turning to him. "Did the Elves like it?"

"They loved it; Thranduil was speechless." Her smile bloomed at that.

"Thank Mahal; the men put blood, sweat and tears into that. I hope Her Majesty likes it too."

"She'll never see it." Her eyes opened as a crease formed between her brows. She turned to him, taking in his strained face and the impeccable clothing he wore for the Elven King's visit to the mountain.

"What?"

"My Grandfather refused to hand it over."

"What do you-"

"He's ill." He explained with a sigh. "Has been for a while."

"Is he okay? I haven't seen him for a few weeks but I just assumed he was busy."

"He is; busy counting coins." He rested his elbows on a gap in the stone and held his head in his hands. "They say it's a sickness of the mind. All the healers have tried but no one can get through to him."

"A sickness of the mind? Like a fever?"

"He spends his days in the treasury, Ellie." He told her, tilting his head a little to meet her eyes. "He just stands there amongst piles of treasure and won't let anyone near it as though he thinks we're to steal it from him. You should have seen the way he smiled when the necklace was taken from Thranduil; it was unlike anything I've ever seen he was…" He trailed off, unable to finish the thought. "The councillors are saying that the Elves refused to pay. It's all lies; I saw the money myself."

"What happens now?"

"I have no idea." He admitted, letting his hands slip from his face and allow him to stare out across the land. "The Mirkwood Elves are known to hold grudges and my Grandfather all but said that the Queen wasn't fit to wear it; he slighted her to her husband's face." He blew out a sigh before turning to her again. "It could mean war."

"Over a necklace?" Her hands were at her throat, fingers toying with the chain of gems she'd been instructed to don this morning.

"Over my Grandfather's fitness to rule." He corrected. "He hasn't attended a council meeting in months and my father just keeps walking out of them…ever since that damn stone."

She didn't need to ask which stone; the whole of Erebor knew the one that had captivated the King.

The Arkenstone.

Thror had named it the King's Jewel. He took it as a sign that his right to rule was divine and declared that all would pay homage to him and the cloudy stone with a heart of fire. It sat above him, embedded in the stone throne of the Mountain and stared down on all who entered the throne room as though the Mountain itself were judging them.

"Is there nothing we can do?"

"We?"

"You don't honestly think I'm going to let you shoulder this alone for any longer?" She asked, hand coming to rest on his shoulder. "What can I do to help?"

"Drag my Grandfather from the treasury and chain him to his bed?"

"An excellent plan Your Highness…but probably not the way to deal with this." He let out a soft laugh at that and Eleonóra took it as a good sign.

"There's nothing we can do." He told her straightening and taking her dainty hand into his own large one. "Eventually he'll have counted everything in there and then maybe it'll pass."

It had to, Eleonóra thought; for all their sakes.

It didn't pass. If anything, it had gotten worse.

They were struggling to hide it now; the King's absence from council meetings and civilian petitions in the throne room was starting to show and whispers were flying through the hollowed-out mountain.

They're just curious – that's what she'd said to Thorin when he'd come to her with his fists in his hair and tears in his eyes. You can't blame them, you'd be curious too – She said, hand brushing down his back as he curled and uncurled his fists as images of his grandfather surrounded by gold merged with hushed whispers in his mind. They love him; love all of you, don't be angry – She'd counselled as he and Frerin appeared on her sofa with identical looks of worry and stress written in their face.

Dis was oblivious, that was the only thing that was keeping them calm; the love the Durin brothers had for their little sister was giving them the energy they needed to continue to conceal the truth from the world.

But she knew. She knew because Thorin told her. They'd grown even closer in the months since Thranduil's visit and were rarely seen apart now; whether it be simply walking to and from meetings where his exposure to the world of governance was becoming faster and more immersive every time, or simply in a quiet nook with his hands in hers as he softly unloaded his growing worries.

But today he was the one tending to her, despite her ardent protests at the ludicrousness of the Crown Prince tending to her (someone merely referred to as; My Lady) scrapes.

"There is no need for this, Thorin." She sighed for what felt like the hundredth time in a handful of minutes. "I'm perfectly capable of-"

"Stop arguing and sit down." She rolled her eyes at his order, much to the amusement of the army of maids trailing into the parlour of the royal family, but obliged and perched on the edge of a small armchair. "Thank you." He dismissed the women as they laid out the last of the supplies he'd called for. "I can take it from here."

"If you're going to insist on this at least let me see a real healer."

"Do you not trust me?" He asked, a flash of amusement in his eyes until the settled on what she assumed was a still bleeding gash at her hairline.

"With my life." She promised as he shut the door and closed them off from the rest of the mountain. "But my face? That is another matter altogether – I've seen your attempts at darning a shirt."

The tease barely got a raised corner of his lip in response and she sighed. The fact that he'd bellowed for medical supplies upon finding her in the treasury; hand to her head to try and stem the blood loos while the other battled to keep and incensed King Thror from her, was bad enoughbut now with this insistence to treat her himself...

"You're over-reacting." She whispered as he picked up a small bowl of water and a cloth from the heap of supplies. "You should be with your grandfather." She said, her and on his wrist stilling any further movements. "He needs you."

"You need me."

"I've seen worse cuts on the guards after training with blunt swords." She told him, taking the cloth from his hand. "He didn't mean to hurt me."

"But he did." He said, voice hoarse as slipped the bowl from his hold too. "Which proves how far from himself he truly is."

"Thorin-"

"He pushed you and kept pushing you after you'd fallen." He reminded her. "Is that my grandfather?"

She had nothing to say to that. She'd seen how far gone the King was for herself today and it wasn't something she was looking to repeat anytime soon.

It had started so innocently with a request from the broken prince stood before her to simply accompany Thror on his daily hours-long visit to the treasury as he had to attend a last-minute trade negotiation. She'd agreed without hesitation – Thror was a grandfather figure to her too and she'd always enjoyed spending time with him as he regaled the youngest members of his family with tales of eras past.

It had started well with the King barely noticing that she was even there once his eyes had settled on the piles and piles of gold on the mountains most secure level. So, she'd simply stood back and watched as he meticulously counted everything he could before wandering off to bask in the glory of his treasury.

When he'd returned and found her sat on a step with a gold coin between her fingers as she tried and failed to determine what he found so alluring, that's when all hell had broken loose.

The guards had been quick to descend from their posts as the King's hand had clamped around her upper arm, hauled her to her feet and all but thrown her into the nearest pile of coins all while hissing curses of theft and promises of execution. But they hadn't been quick enough or prepared enough for the aging dwarf's unexpected strength as he pulled and pushed her over and over again until she'd slammed her head on something hard and metallic.

They were barely restraining the King by the time Thorin had breathlessly arrived – his father hot on his heels. Thrain had taken charge of his father immediately and was escorting him gently from the room as Thorin arrived at her spot. The room had been spinning and the sheer quantity of gold around her was doing little to settle it.

She'd waved away offers of carrying her back to her rooms with a reminder that the King was their first priority, not her. But one person had stayed at her elbow as she regained her footing and she hadn't had the heart, or the stability, to shake him off.

And that's how she'd ended up here; in an armchair with an overprotective dwarf whose gaze was fixed on the almost invisible line on her forehead.

"If you so much as come near me with a needle…" She said, leaning back in the seat as a silent acceptance of his wishes. "…I'll break your wrist."

"I'd like to see you try." He mumbled, ripping a strip of cloth and dipping it in the warm water. "You couldn't even walk in a straight line five minutes ago."

"Is that a chal-" She hissed as he pressed the cloth to the cut.

"I thought there was nothing wrong with you?" He asked, eyebrow arched as he continued to dab at the cut.

"Stop being smug and get on with it." She huffed, choosing not to mention the dull ache in her ribs after landing on a particularly hard set of concealed steps under one of the larger gold piles. "Would you do me a favour?" She asked, peering up at him as he dropped the cloth stained with small blotches of red into the water. "Don't tell Dis."

"I hadn't planned to."

"Not about your grandfather." She clarified as he reached for a bandage. "About why I'll have a bandage peeking out of my hair – just tell her its anything but a bandage."

"One would almost think you're not a fan of my sister's overbearing nursing."

"I think one stubborn Durin insisting I receive treatment is enough." She told him, smiling at his chuckle. "I can't take another bought of her forcing me into bedrest and force-feeding me soup."

Two weeks of Dis playing matron when she'd contracted flu from Frerin after the blonde Durin had insisted 'there's nothing wrong with me' with a sniffle, was more than enough for the next decade.

"Favour granted." He promised, wincing slightly of his own treatment when he too had come down with a temperature after a visit to the two patients and joining their game of cards. "But the lie will have to be of your concocting." He nodded to the bandage and she groaned as she felt around it.

"Could you have cut a larger piece of bandage?" She asked with a huff as she investigated it with her fingertips to determine its actual size. "It's practically an eye-patch."

"Now who's over-reacting?" He asked, laughing again as he collected up the supplies used and deposited them next to the mountain that he'd called for – just in case. She rolled her eyes at him again as she continued to prod around the tiny cut and its unnecessary cover. "Stop playing with it."

"How am I going to explain this?" She asked with an arched brow. "Hmm? How am I going to play this off in front of your family?"

"Just…rearrange your hair."

"I'm not a wizard, Thorin." She said deadpan. "This is big enough to require its own territory in Middle Earth – I can't just 'rearrange' around it."

"Sit there." He huffed as he pointed to the sofa to her right. "I'll see what I can do."

"Even Mahal couldn't hide this." She told him, pushing up from the chair and falling to sit cross-legged on the cushioned seat.

He ignored her and moved to sit facing her, eyes roaming over her hair as he mused on how to fix it.

"Turn around." He instructed and she shifted accordingly on the seat.

"Tell me about the meeting." She said as his fingers began to slide the pins from her braid and unwind the intricate bun. "Did you secure the trade deal."

"We did." He murmured as his fingers began to tease the loose tendrils of her hair into a new style. "I was on my way to tell you when…"

"It wasn't his fault, Thorin." She said again, her voice soft. "He's not himself."

"My grandfather has always been the strongest of us; he recolonised this mountain, secured his line and had reigned successfully and prosperously for over 200 years." He said as she leant back into his hands as a braid began to take shape. "If anyone was going to fall foul to some illness of the mind, I would have betted on my father."

She understood; Thrain was a good man but had little interest in anything outside of the mountain. Apparently, it had taken decades for him to actually attend a meeting and even then had disappeared half way through it. She knew he'd been affected deeply by the loss of his wife and the daughter she'd left behind who was a mirror image of the woman Thrain had loved, but it didn't excuse his actions, or lack of, anymore.

"Maybe it's in our blood." He surmised. "Waiting to affect us all when our time comes." A gentle tug on her hair was her cue to turn back to him and her heart broke at what she found.

His face was tight with worry again; the line that shouldn't be appearing until far into his own reign becoming more and more prominent in his young face while his tired eyes lacked the twinkle that had always drawn her in.

"Thorin." She breathed, taking his hand. "Don't say such things."

"What if it's the truth?" He asked, reaching up to push a tendril of fallen hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear. "What if I am destined to meet the same fate? I can't do that to these people Ellie."

"You won't." She assured him, squeezing his hand as the backs of his fingers slowly trailed down her cheek. "I won't let you."

"I-"

"Frerin told me that you fell." Thorin let out a sigh at the sound of his sister's voice as she burst into the room. "What happened? Are you well? Ellie?" The princess asked as Thorin pulled away from her, the blonde not having realised how close they'd been until his absence made her eyes flutter closed.

"I'm fine." She forced her voice to say as she accepted Thorin's outstretched hand and stood from the sofa; her dress swaying around her.

"What's the matter?" Dis asked with a frown as she studied the pair. "Why are there so many medicine kits in here?"

"Just stocking up for when Frerin inevitably hurts himself again." Ellie forced a smile, dropping Thorin's hand and moving to Dis. "Let's get some air." She said, taking her arm and guiding her to the door a faint smile on her lips as she caught sight of herself in a mirror and noted the sweep of hair covering the bandage and its seamless flow into the braid curing over her shoulder.

Their eyes met only once as she turned to close the door behind her and the responding thump of her heart as she found an intensity in his that had never before been there, had her questioning a lot.

Slowly, the days turned sour, and the watchful nights closed in. Thror's love of gold had grown too fierce; a sickness had taken hold within him; a sickness of the mind.

And where sickness thrives, bad things will follow.