I loved a maid as white as winter with moonglow in her hair.

was two full days after he first woke that Arethusa gathered the company in the library, Bilbo stood next to her almost snickering at the expressions that had overcome several of the dwarves' faces. "What's wrong, lass? Has something happened?" Bofur asked as he scratched his hat. Ori fiddled with his scarf nervously while Dori comforted the poor dwarf.

"Yes, something has happened." There was no precursor hint to what she would tell them yet it became apparent that her news would have to do with their king. Their faces all fell as the worst was assumed, but a small smile broke out on her lips, "Thorin has awakened, but I wish to advise you to speak carefully. His body is healing well, though I cannot easily fix what has been done to his mind." The tension in the room faded with the cries of joy that bounced off the stone walls. Kili and Fili were the first to rush away, the rest followed though Dwalin lingered behind and in a moment of pure impulse the grizzly dwarf wrapped his arms around the small fairy.

"Thank you, lass." Arethusa smiled into the embrace and when Dwalin turned to join the rest of the company the fairy looked to her side at Bilbo. They both took to a pair of chairs in front of a large fireplace and in a comfortable silence each picked up the book they had been reading.

The hobbit closed his book and peered into the dancing flames of the fire, "I'm thinking about returning to the Shire soon," Arethusa had begun to see the slight changes in her dear friend, he was homesick, missing the comforts of Bag End, and she could not blame him for that. "You will be missed."

The obscure sadness in her voice caused Bilbo to shift within his seat, he had always dreaded the strange sadness that came over the fairy when they parted ways. "I didn't say I wouldn't visit, now did I?" Arethusa shook her head amusedly but when Bilbo reached over the space between them and took her hand she smiled. "You are always welcome at Bag End."

A single tear was attempting to escape from her eye, she wiped it away before it could betray her. "And for that I am grateful."

⌘⌘⌘

Arethusa brushed down the collar of the fur-trimmed cloak that hung from Thorin's shoulders, he stood hunched over, breathing ragged from the exertion of dressing for the feast. The fairy touched the stone she had tied into his hair with furrowed brows, "Are you sure you are ready for this, Thorin?" She worried that he had not rested enough since waking, that he had not healed enough to partake in the night's activities.

The dwarf king pulled her hand up to his lips, placing a short kiss on her knuckles, "Yes, I must do this Arethusa." Her eyes dropped to the floor, from beneath the skirts of her pale green gown bare feet could be seen. She worried too about her acceptance into the dwarven community now that Thorin had awakened, she thought it likely that those who were not a member of the company would shun her for her race despite being nobility and the one that had brought them through a turbulent month. "I understand, my King." The phrase felt funny rolling off her tongue, but Thorin was her king, if not of her being then of her heart.

"I would not have my Queen looking down at her feet whilst she speaks to me." His thick and calloused fingers curled beneath her chin and she was left with little to do but look up at him. A flush of color had come upon her cheeks at the title. His Queen, Arethusa smiled, though it faded away as quickly as it had come. "You look lovely." She did not feel lovely, she missed her leathers and boots, the comfort of having a sword strapped to her hip. The fairy felt more like a jester within the stone walls of Erebor wearing the dresses that Elrond and Thranduil had sent.

Arethusa slipped her feet into leather flats and looked over her shoulder at Thorin, her laugh was like a summer song chasing away the long winter, "Do you think flattery will put you in my good graces when I must heal your stubborn self because you would not rest a day more?" He smiled sweetly in response, offering the fairy the crook of his arm and a kiss upon the cheek.

"Come, our people are waiting." Arethusa's heart jumped at the thought, our people, but were they really her people? She had yet to find an answer to that question. Together they passed through the doors hewn from stone and into the vast hall with many pillars and lamps made from crystal. Their entrance was unannounced but when the first dwarf stood from the wooden bench at the presence of the King and his Queen, the rest followed suit. Arethusa had expected them to all look upon Thorin yet all eyes followed her, she squeezed Thorin's forearm as they approached the two empty chairs at the head of the table. "Why are they looking at me? Have I done something wrong?" Arethusa could not remember the last time she had felt so vulnerable and frightened, perhaps it was when Elendil had found her on the shores of Númenórë, taken her into his arms and aboard the ship that would carry her safely to Middle Earth, or even the time Elrond's had found her bruised and bleeding near Rivendell.

Thorin covered her hand with his own, despite the pain that went through his side at the movement. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, "You've done nothing wrong." His voice reassured her, the fairy smoothed her skirts down before sitting, her posture was nothing less than perfect and the way she held herself was the way of a queen. When they had taken their seat the dwarves within the hall returned to the long benches. Platters of roast meat were brought forth, there was venison and wild boar scattered around the tables, next to heaping piles of bread and cheeses. Thorin spoke with Dwalin, Balin, and Bilbo over the course of the meal. Much to the fairy's chagrin, they all spoke highly of her actions and judgments, making her wish to be able to shrink away from the praise.

Before the music and rowdier festivities began, Thorin stood from his place at the head of the table. Arethusa frowned as she saw him bracing his weight on the table, off his injured foot. "I am honored to be in your presence here in the halls of my father's tonight and to see this great kingdom made new again with your strength and will, honor and loyalty. For this, I cannot repay you in a way that shows the depth my gratitude." A multitude of joyous cries echoed in the hall when he paused, his gaze was drawn to the fairy seated at his side, she looked like a startled doe. "It seems fair, also, to say that this feast would not have been possible if not for the astute mind and gentle soul that has headed this kingdom in my absence." Thorin looked down at her and smiled, one of the rare smiles that she had only seen four or five times in her life, she swore her heart stopped when hundreds of dwarves stood and crossed their arm over their chest with lowered heads.

"To the Queen." Arethusa sat impeccably still as Thorin raised his goblet of ale prompting every dwarf in attendance to rise and do the same. She looked down at her lap for only a moment, just long enough so the single tear that slid down her cheek could land on the fabric of her dress. "Long live the Queen!" The words were chanted three times over before everyone took a long drink from their tankards.

The jolly sound of fiddles and flutes filled the stone hall as a pleasant chatter rose from the tables. Arethusa was still unnerved by the looks that had been cast her way throughout the evening; they were not of disdain but akin to awe. She leaned over so that she could speak to Thorin. "What is the meaning of this feast?" She knew it partly to be in his honor as well as Kili and Fili's, yet there was a deeper meaning present that everyone but she seemed to understand. Thorin turned to her with an odd look in his eyes, that she could not name, perhaps it was rooted in shame, "In our tradition, a feast such as this would occur after a wedding. For you to sit by my side is enough to symbolize our marriage, though, nothing has to change." He had never seen her cheeks turn such a deep shade of red, the mere sight made him smile.

Thorin placed his hand atop Arethusa's, mindlessly stroking over her knuckles. "When the meal is done they will expect me to dance with you." Her mind trailed away to think of the afternoon in Rivendell, where they had danced under a fading sun to nothing but the beat of their hearts. Arethusa often let her mind wander back to that day, there was innocence in the moment they shared. Perhaps it was when he had taken her into his arms for the first time that she felt her heart skip a beat.

"But you are not fully healed," the fairy protested, knowing that by the night's end his foot would ache with a fresh pain and the mending cuts on his ribs would leave him exhausted. She had cures for many things, but his stubbornness was something she had no cure for. "I believe I am well enough to dance with the fairy of my heart should she accept my offer," Thorin countered and such sweet words were not easily dismissed. Arethusa and Thorin were pulled in different directions with their conversations, he spoke to Balin and the elder dwarf from Nogrod while the fairy spoke with Bilbo and Glolir, a young dwarf who had traveled with a group of his kin from the Iron Hills. When the tables were hastily cleared and barrels of ale brought forth, Thorin turned his attention back to Arethusa, she must have charmed all the young dwarfs in attendance with her tales of old.

More instruments were brought forth, adding to the musicians that had played softly through the meal, and as expected Thorin stood, but not without a grimace that came when his weight settled on a still-healing foot. Arethusa looked up to him and at his outstretched hand before placing her hand on his. Her heart raced as they stood before the hall of dwarven guests,

Arethusa beamed with joy and laughter when Thorin swept her away to the open half of the hall, this pain was forgotten as he spun her. The dwarves clapped along to the tune spurring them one until the fairy lost her footing and fell forward into Thorin's chest. She hid her face in the crook of his neck while the hall broke into an uproar of praises and applause. Their pace had slowed as the others joined in on the dancing, the fairy rested her head on Thorin's shoulder and breathed in contentedly, "What if I wanted this?" she whispered almost doubting her own words, Thorin looked at her curiously. "To be married, to you."

A deep rumble of laughter came from the king, for perhaps the first time they had met she was seeing him at ease, as a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. "Then I would shower you with gifts, forge a ring and bead, only for you, and carry you everywhere." Arethusa pulled back and looked up at the dwarf king skeptically. She scrunched up her nose in a laughable manner and spoke with a straight face. "That sounds rather dreadful." It was then they both began chuckling.

"Take a walk with me?" Thorin offered his hand for her to take but she was hesitant, "Will our absence not be noted?" Arethusa inquired, her eyes scanning around the room at the dwarves that were immersed in their revels and merrymaking, the ale in their mugs was far more interesting at the moment than the two of them.

"Within the hour most will be too drunk to stand, I do not think we will be terribly missed." He chuckled and splayed his hand across the small of Arethusa's back, guiding her from the hall and to a quiet and secluded part of the mountain. From the overlook the shadowed towers of Dale were visible in the night, warmth glowed in the open windows even with the snow that had come. Arethusa looked out over the plain, her eyes sweeping from the city to Ravenhill and over the Long Lake to the forest beyond. There was a type of longing in her eyes that Thorin had rarely seen in life and an inner turmoil that he knew all too well. She wished to travel like had been her lifestyle, but she had chosen him, to settle. "Something is different about you, Arethusa, I cannot place it, but I see a change." He did not enjoy entertaining the thought that she felt caged now, such a free spirit would fade if placed in a cage. He took both of her hands into his own and squeezed them in a form of gentle reassurance.

She searched his face, hoping to find something that would tell her where to begin, how to begin. "Thorin, I -I -when I died I was sent to the halls of Mandos where I met Vairë, only she is my mother. She had asked Eru to intervene. I was given a choice, like the half-elves," a sad smile came across her lips as Thorin raised his hand to her cheek, "to retain immortality and sail to the West or return here, to you, as a mortal."

"Why?" The single word question was all but whispered, Thorin's voice cracked. The fairy raised her hand to his cheek, her thumb brushed against his jaw, through the coarse hair of his beard. "Because now that I know you I could not bear living in this world alone." She wondered if he knew how elves loved, because fairies loved nearly the same way, they could fade from losing their dear one, many an elf had died of heartbreak. Had she lived and Thorin died, she had little hope that she would have managed.

"And the two scars on your back?" She had not paid much mind to the scars, even if they were rather large and puffy, it was the price she had paid to return to Middle Earth and one she would gladly pay again. Her wings had been stripped from their intended place, now two symmetrical scars that spanned from her shoulder blades to the curve of her back remained. Arethusa hadn't realized he had seen them as only Gandalf and Bilbo knew.

"Are where my wings should be." Something in his expression changed, Arethusa couldn't name it but he stepped back as if he were afraid his touch would shatter her. Her face hardened as it had before when she was angry, "Do not think that because I am mortal now that I am some fragile thing, Thorin. I brought you back and I still possess five thousand years of experience and powers that are stronger now than before." She was not fragile in the slightest way, mortal yes, but fragile, no. Her mother had told her as a child to abandon the dreams she had of stardust and instead dream of iron. She was iron, forged and reforged, made strong to endure. "Perhaps we should retire early," the fairy suggested, her hands were clasped in front of her, thumbs twiddling.

"Yes. That does sound to be a good idea." Thorin conceded, even with the faint limp in his step he would not forget his courtesies, the dwarf king offered the fairy the crook of his arm as they retreated from the winter's night air and into the warmth of the stone halls of Erebor. Within his chambers, wordlessly, Thorin kindled a fire back to life in the stone hearth, filling the room with the soft shadows cast by the light. Removing his boots, the dwarf king unceremoniously fell back to the bed and Arethusa was at his side in an instant, looking over the scabs and bandages. The only one that needed attention was on his foot. "When will you stop fretting over me?" Thorin almost sounded annoyed that he was being tended to like a child.

The fairy sat down her supplies and placed her hands on slim hips, "When you are healed," Thorin huffed in response as she begun unwrapping the soiled bandage, "that time may never come if you are too stubborn to heed my advice," her work was nearly finished when Thorin looked at her, a soft expression, filled with what appeared to be humor.

"It would seem that is something we both have in common," Arethusa glared at him, pulling the small knot of the cloth bandage almost too tight, she would have laughed had she done so, it would only prove her point that he was obstinate and because of it his wounds would take a lifetime to heal. "And what is that?"

For a moment, Thorin forgot what he was going to say, the firelight and shadows and made her hair appear ashen brown, the color it had been when he first saw her, the color it had been when he realized, that like a stupid boy, he was in love with her. "Stubbornness." Arethusa scoffed, gathering the supplies she stood and deposited them on the table that was tucked away in the corner of the room.

"How shall we ever accomplish anything if the both of us are so stubborn?" He laughed at her mocking question, it was a rare sound that she wished to hear more of, and perhaps now that the mountain was reclaimed she would. The fairy pushed aside the loose neck of the dress and shivered as it puddled on the floor, quickly she fetched a large, rough woolen tunic and pulled it overhead. It fell to her knees, almost swallowing her petite frame whole. "An excellent question. Now come, Arethusa," with the grace of a cave troll, Arethusa collapsed onto the bed and smiled to herself as Thorin gathered her within her arms.