The Dragons' Daughter (Thorin Oakenshield/OFC)

The Misty Mountains Cold

"Far to the East," began Gandalf, "over ranges and hills, lies a single solitary peak."
Bilbo leaned across and read out from the map:
"The Lonely Mountain."
"Aye," said Gloin, "Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time."
Clarrei smiled as the dwarves groaned. It seemed the ginger-haired dwarf brought this story up often as he could.
"When the birds of yore return to Erebor," continues his brother. "The rein of the beast will end."
"What beast?" asked Bilbo, concern lacing his quiet voice. Clarrei couldn't help but feel her smile slide from her face.
"That would be Smaug." She said, darkly. "Greatest calamity of our age."
The dwarves looked at her curiously.
"How do you know of Smaug?" Asked Thorin, before clamping his mouth shut with a blush covering his face again when Clarrei turned to him.
"All I'll say is that you aren't the only ones who have been affected by that monster."

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Of course the hobbit had fainted as soon as the dragon was mentioned. Thorin should have known that the wizard would not choose a suitable burglar. That was not a burglar. That was a damn kitten. They sat around the fire, and Thorin was humming a deep tune, his chest rumbling with the melody. Heart aching with his memories, Thorin began to sing, in a low, deep voice.
"Far over the Misty Mountains cold,
To dungeons deep and caverns old.
We must away, ere break of day, to find out long forgotten gold."
All at once, the other dwarves joined in, each standing to join their king.
"The pines were roaring, on the height, the winds were moaning, in the night.
The fire was red, it's flaming spread, the trees like torches, blazed with light."
A sniff made them look around. Clarrei sat watching them with tears in her beautiful eyes. They slipped down her face, Amber in the firelight, and it seemed as though they were small flames cast from her eyes. She hastily wiped her tears away, her voice choked.
"I'm sorry."
Thorin sat next to her on the hearth, and gently pushed a handkerchief into her small hands.
"Why are you apologising, my lady?"
She cleared her throat, drying her eyes with the rough handkerchief.
"I was just apologising for your loss. I can relate." She added, with a sad little smile. Thorin raised one heavy eyebrow.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I too haven't had a true home for a long time. I was raised in a forest for the first 50 years of my life, but it wasn't where I was born."
"And why can't you go home? To a family?"
At that, Clarrei laughed, but it was bitter and harsh, not the same tinkling laugh he had heard before.
"Trust me, Thorin, the last person I want to see is my father. I don't want to spend any amount of time with the creature that tried to kill me."
Thorin felt shock settle into his limbs. A father, trying to kill his daughter? At that statement, any troubles he had had with his own father suddenly seemed trivial.
"He tried to kill you?"
She nodded, eyes now free of tears, but filled with a burning hate and rage.
"When I was but a newborn."
They slipped into an uncomfortable silence, and Thorin felt as though there was more to this young woman than met the eye.

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The next day dawned bright and early for the Company. Clarrei was the first up, her stomach fizzing with excitement, and for some odd reason, she felt lighter than she had in a long time. She had completely opened her soul up to Thorin the previous night, told him her story, all of it. Well...almost all. Dragon heritage had somehow been neglected. He in turn had told his own story, of his struggle to unite his people, keep the dwarves of Erebor's faith in returning home strong. He told her of Erebor, it's glittering mines, shining halls, and fresh mountain air. It sounded wonderful. Clarrei tugged on her dark leather boots, tan calfskin trousers, white shirt that was only a few shades lighter than her skin, and a black coat that made her hair look like fire sitting upon coals. Stepping into the cool morning air, she went to untie Emera, who was standing next to what turned out to be Thorin's pony. What was it about him? She asked herself. What was it about him that got her heart pumping, that made her face flush, her pulse to quicken? Clarrei shook herself as Fili and Kili, Thorin's playful nephews, hopped onto their ponies beside her, chattering away, asking questions about where she was from, what living with a wizard had been like, and what she had seen on her travels. Gandalf joined them, and they set off. Bilbo was not with them, but Clarrei had a feeling he would arrive soon. Call it a dragon's sense if you will. After they had travelled for half an hour, in which Clarrei had decided she liked the young princes very much, there came a great shout behind them.
"Wait! Wait!"
The Company turned, and several members groaned and started to dig out money purses when they spotted Bilbo sprinting after them as fast as his little legs could carry him. As Balin inspected the now fully signed contract, Clarrei couldn't help but feel as though she was not only taking herself to her doom to meet her father, but this unwary, unsuspecting troupe.