So... yeah, I got this awesome idea today and I had some time after doing capsule calculations. I really did try to write the next chapter for Myths and Half-Truths but then this came out.

Yeah. I'm feeling angsty.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for which ever new ginger character I create... I think I have a problem.

Chapter One: Arrival at the Mountain

Ariya stared at the mountain, silently willing it to grow smaller instead of larger. She dreaded arriving there just as she had dreaded leaving on this journey. Her father Soran, King of the Northern Tundra, walked beside her as silent as the mountain they approached.

It is a good match my daughter. The eldest Durin prince will someday be King Under the Mountain and we sorely need the allies. I have no doubts that you will grow to care for him and how could he not love you on first sight?

Ariya kept her face expressionless, not allowing her doubts and fear show. She was doing this for her people, not for herself. She was a martyr; breathing and whole yes, but no longer alive.

No longer a member of her people or any other.

Her father believed that she would become "Ar Dhá Daoine" or "of two people" but she knew better.

The dwarves would never accept her and the Northern Clan would never view her in the same way again. They already whispered and pointed. There she goes, they say, she that is no longer ours.

She would never tell her father though, knowing that it would shatter the happy cloak of denial he had wrapped about himself. Yes, her betrothal will create allies. The dwarves would be forced to help her people if such a need ever arose and she would race to their aid as well for she may not be theirs anymore but they would always be hers.

While her people possessed a bravery that outshone any other race, they were among the smallest in Middle Earth. Often times they were mistaken for Halflings by those with knowledge of the beings in the Shire and sometimes they were accused of being discarded dwarves, too slight and graceful for mining stone and precious metals. But while her people were none of those races, they did not correct the misconceptions for they made it easier to keep their secrets safe.

The wind kissed her face as if saying goodbye as Ariya straightened her shoulders and tilted her chin in defiance.

The mountain drew steadily larger.

Thorin, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror, was sparring with his long-time friend and confidant Dwalin. The young prince was frustrated this morning and less focused than he should have been. So it was no surprise when Thorin found himself on his back, Dwalin's large ax held at his throat in clear victory.

"You are not yourself my Prince."

Thorin hauled himself to his feet, ignoring his friend under the pretense of cleaning dust from his clothes. Dwalin wouldn't be deterred however and tried a different tactic.

"A lumbering troll could sneak up on you with your present mindset Thorin."

That earned him a stony glare and a look that clearly dared Dwalin to insult him again. Completely indifferent to his Prince's fierce glares (they had practiced them together growing up after all), Dwalin just stared back with a raised eyebrow.

"My betrothed is arriving today." Thorin finally spat out.

Dwalin nodded, having assumed that was the reason but still wanted Thorin to state it out loud. The eldest Durin heir had a habit of brooding far too often.

"I'm sure it won't be as bad as you're anticipating my friend. Think of it this way; there's no way she can turn you down."

His attempt at making light of the situation having failed, Dwalin fell into silence as Thorin glared at the floor.

"Come, let's go get you ready. While neither of you have a choice in the matter, it wouldn't do to alarm her with your sweat and dirt covered clothes. At least, not yet. Later you can throw them at her face and demand she wash them."

Smirking slightly at his friend's second attempt to cheer him up, Thorin allowed himself to be led away.

The outermost gates stood open as if they were reaching out to swallow her whole. Ariya paused briefly, feeling the fear she had been repressing suddenly well up inside her. Thoughts of turning tail and running away consumed her and she swallowed thickly, forcing herself to take first one step forward and then another.

They passed through the outer gates and soon faced a second set of doors, slightly smaller and more ornate, inlaid with gold, silver and gems. Ariya once again had to force herself to continue walking. Waiting just beyond them was a small group of dwarves; one of them approached Soran, bowing low.

"Balin, at your service King Soran."

The dwarves behind him all bowed as well.

"Well met Balin. This is my daughter Ariya." And suddenly Ariya found herself the focus of a dozen pairs of eyes. She was too nervous to do anything other than incline her head slightly, still struggling to repress the desire to run. It seemed to be enough, for the eyes left her face, all except Balin's who was looking at her as if he knew her internal battle.

"My King is this way, as is Prince Thorin. Please follow me."

While she knew that Balin was addressing the group as a whole, he stared directly at her before tilting his head towards her slightly and walking away.

Soran followed the dwarf after a quick glance at his daughter.

Erebor's walls and floors reminded Ariya of the deep green of summer in her beloved forest while the gold veins that ran from the ceiling was like sunlight trickling through the evergreen branches.

But it smelled of metal, sweat, and fire. There was no breeze, no sweet scent of crushed leaves or wet grass. For all that it reminded her of home, it strove to mock her of it more.

Always able to picture it in my mind but never to experience it again.

Before she knew it, Ariya was walking through a set of doors and across a narrow walkway, the end of which held a dwarf sitting on a stone throne. Thror, King Under the Mountain she thought to herself.

It was the dwarf standing to the King's right though that drew her attention next. He was tall, taller than her 4'9" stature and his face held less expression than hers. All except for his eyes.

The moment she looked him in the eyes, she knew that all was lost. The small hope in her chest that she had of possibly finding happiness, despite all the odds against it, died. One glance at his stormy blue eyes was all that she needed to know the truth.

He utterly despised her.

He did not need his father's gestures or Balin's introduction to know which one she was. Her copper hair, fair complexion and green eyes drew him in before he could catch himself. Thankfully the girl hadn't seen him yet so his moment of weakness was not noticed by her.

When her eyes finally met his, Thorin made sure his face betrayed nothing but allowed his eyes to say all that he wanted to. He made sure that they held nothing but the deepest contempt for her and this thrice-damned situation.

He then convinced himself that the flicker of hopelessness and resignation in those green eyes did not affect him at all.

Her father hugged her goodbye, his promises of returning next spring for her wedding falling on deaf ears. The two kings had decided that the betrothed pair would be allowed to court and get to know each other before being forced to marry. Ariya couldn't find it in herself to be offended by the pretense of her even having a choice in the matter.

Courting was for those that could say no at any time.

She said none of this to her father though, instead she hugged him back, whispered her goodbyes and said she would watch for them come spring. She knew that it was about to be the longest fall and winter of her young life.

So, I basically have most of the story already planned out in my head and I will be updating Myths and Half-Truths within the next few days. Hopefully this story takes away some of the angst that I keep wanting to shove into that one lol.

Ar Dhá Daoine- It's celtic. For some reason, I'm obsessed with that language.

Please let me know what you think!