Author's note: Summer is over and I'm back to writing fanfic - yay! Here's a little something I have been working on. Please notice that this is not the sequel to my other story, "Only the Stars Were Watching." It's just a short(ish) Kiliel fic I've had at the back of my mind for a while. I will be posting it in 4 parts, in relatively close succession (it's all written already, I just need to proofread and edit it all).

The title is "Someone Like You" because I originally had the idea for this story while listening to the song of the same name by Adele. The song and the story are however only very loosely connected. The story is a little sad, but it also has its happy moments, I promise.

Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Some mature content in Part II. Also some minor spoilers for the third movie, mostly stuff from the trailer. Goes off-canon after Part II.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Hobbit or any of its characters.

Part I

2941

"I will have war!"

Kíli stared at his uncle in utter horror, his blood curdling in his veins. For a second it felt as if the ground beneath his feet was slipping away and he briefly closed his eyes, exhaling the breath that an invisible, iron fist seemed to be squeezing out of his already battered body.

Opening his eyes again, he wished that all of this had just been a very livid nightmare and that he would find before his eyes not Thorin, obviously driven mad by the treasure that lay buried beneath the mountain at their back, delegations of both Men and Elves staring back at him with varying degrees of hatred, shock, frustration written on their faces. But it was all real. Thorin had just declared war to those who should have become their allies, those who were their only hope of not simply repeating the history of this cursed kingdom all over again.

Not able to bear what he was seeing any longer, Kíli tore his gaze away from his uncle, scanning the crowd of Elves and men opposite their small dwarven company. Scanning the crowd for one pair of green eyes in particular, one head of luscious, red hair. When he found her and saw her staring straight back at him, he realized with a sinking sensation that they would be fighting on different sides of this battle, that his uncle's words had just turned them from unlikely allies, hesitant friends, unacknowledged - lovers? maybe? - into enemies within a heartbeat.

He dropped his gaze to the ground when he saw her eyes cloud with pain, not able to stand looking at her. This was wrong. So wrong. And yet, when his brethren began to move, retreating into the mountain, he went with them, his feet acting on their own accord, unable to resist following the patterns they had been taught to follow all of his life.

Struggling to lift a massive statue from where it had crashed to the ground, Kíli did his best to assist his company in barricading themselves against the attack that was surely to come in the next few days, if not hours. Neither Bard nor Thranduil – especially not Thranduil – would sit back and let Thorin continue to provoke and taunt them without taking action, without striking back.

Breathing heavily, he looked at the face of the statue he had just helped raise from the ground, its stony, grey features suddenly swimming before his eyes to be replaced by pale, silky skin and a face more beautiful than anything he had ever seen in this world. A face that had turned his simple life upside down ever since he had first laid eyes on it in that strange, unearthly forest they called Mirkwood. Tauriel…

He let go of the statue and stumbled a few feet off to the side, falling to his knees when his stomach suddenly clenched in the most painful manner, causing cold sweat to break out on his forehead. He retched, but in vain. There was nothing he would have been able to relieve himself of – he had not eaten.

A cool, calloused hand was suddenly pressed against his feverish face. Fíli.

"What is the matter?" Kíli heard Thorin ask, his voice close by and yet strangely distant, slightly annoyed.

"He is still weakened," Fíli returned, the worry in his voice impossible to miss. "He needs to rest."

"We are few as it is," Thorin replied coldly. "I need every hand available."

At his uncle's words, Kíli tried to get up from the ground, unwilling to give his uncle any more reason to think him weak than he already had. Even after everything that had happened, a small part of him still longed for Thorin's approval more than anything else. But he found that his body refused to obey and he faltered, closing his eyes in both shame and exhaustion.

Fíli straightened up, but kept a hand resting on Kíli's shoulder. "Can you not see that he is of no help to us right now? That keeping him here might put his life at risk? Let him rest, Thorin, please."

Thorin did not reply for a moment. "Fine," he finally said. "Take some time to gather your strength. But you, Fíli, you stay. We have more than enough work to do."

Kíli heard his uncle leave, but kept his gaze down, embarrassed by his most recent display of deficiency. Fìli knelt down next to him once more. He reached out to help him up, but Kíli shrugged him off. "I'm fine, Fíli, just let me get back to work."

Fíli shook his head. "No, you're not. Look at you, brother, you're as white as a sheet. Is it the arrow wound? Maybe it has become infected again, just allow me to-"

"No," Kíli cut him off. "My leg is fine, alright? Just leave it be."

Fíli sank back onto his heels and looked at him. "Yes, yes, your leg is fine, I get it. Then whatever else it is that is troubling you, go and try to sleep it off, get it out of your system or I don't know what. You are in no shape to fight as it is. I cannot – will not – let you go into battle like this."

Kíli stared at his brother, his voice hollow when he spoke. "Can you not see that it does not make much of a difference? That Thorin has condemned all of us to a certain death anyway?"

For a few seconds, Fíli remained silent. "Well," he then said, "if you keep going like this you will surely get yourself killed, I agree with you on that. And I will not 'leave it' until you haul your stubborn behind out of here and lie down for a while."

Kíli looked at him and could see some of the desperation, some of the bone chilling fear he felt himself mirrored in Fíli's face. But apparently his older brother had decided to accept their fate and see it through to the end because, really, there was nothing that could be done to stop the chaos that was on the verge of unfolding in front of them. Finally accepting Fíli's hand and allowing him to help him to his feet, Kíli resolved that, for one last time in their lives, he would follow his brother's example and make himself come to terms with what he knew in his heart was a terrible, tragic mistake brought about by the lust for gold and riches that had afflicted so many of his ancestors, had destroyed so many innocent lives already.

Tauriel stared at the shadows dancing across the fabric of the tent assigned to her, unmoving. They had made camp at the foot of the mountain, just outside the ruins of the city of Dale, waiting for the reinforcements from Mirkwood and what had once been Laketown to arrive. Planning their attack.

As Captain of the Guard – and from the way things looked right now, her recent disobedience to the king had not affected her status as such, overshadowed as it had been by Oakenshield's declaration of war – she had participated in many of the war councils held that day. While on the outside she had tried her best to maintain the professional, detached air of an experienced soldier, on the inside she had felt like a small child, helplessly watching those around her act out of revenge, hatred, greed, unable to comprehend why any of this was happening.

Now, at the end of this long day, she felt empty inside. Everything that had occurred those past few days, everything she had done, the lives that had been risked – had it really all been in vain? Did it all amount to them slaughtering each other over something as trivial as gold and jewels?

She was torn out of her thoughts when the flap of her tent was thrown aside and Legolas stepped inside, his face grim. He looked at her sitting on her narrow, uncomfortable cot and frowned. "Should you not be preparing yourself for what lies ahead?"

Tauriel frowned and stood up, not liking how he towered above her, making her feel small and foolish. "Trust me," she replied coolly, "I am prepared."

He looked at her, his expression unreadable. "Are you, Tauriel?"

"This is not the first battle I am fighting," she said. "You do not doubt my skill as a warrior after all those years of fighting at my side, do you?"

He shook his head. "No." Fixing his gaze on a spot somewhere slightly above her head, he continued. "I came to assure myself whether you truly understand what side you are fighting on. Whether, if need be, you are prepared to lay any interests that you might have of your own aside and act in accordance with your king's wishes."

She looked at him, surprised. And hurt in a number of ways that were too complex for her to fully grasp. "Do you question my ability to distinguish between friend and foe?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"You have defied my father before, Tauriel. Left without order or permission to follow the dwarves, to save the young one."

She shook her head. "I cannot believe that you would say this. You know that I did what I did to hunt down those orcs because they had crossed a line they never should have dared to cross. You were there with me."

Legolas did not reply, but merely stared at her intently, a sad little smile on his lips. Which unnerved Tauriel more than she cared to admit. It made her feel like he was seeing right through her, into her soul, where she had carefully locked away those confusing feelings that she had recently experienced whenever her thoughts turned to a particular, dark haired dwarf. Not even to speak of the curious things her body did whenever she laid eyes on him. Blushing, trembling, yearning for another smile from him. Those were not sensations she was used to.

Squaring her shoulders, she walked past Legolas, coming to stand at the entrance to her tent. Night had fallen outside and only the number of campfires told her how many had already arrived to join the attack upon Erebor that was to be launched in the days to come. The dwarves were, in their own manner, skilled fighters and had been able to find their way out of more than one dangerous situation in the recent past, she knew that. But against this – they would not stand a chance.

"I am sorry if my actions caused you to doubt my integrity," she said to Legolas without turning around to look at him. "But I assure you that I know where my place is. I will fight for Thranduil in this battle, with all the consequences that it might entail." She kept her tone neutral, but even as she spoke those words, she saw Kíli in front of her inner eye, his lifeless eyes staring back at her, his throat cut by an Elven blade. Quickly, she pressed a hand to her mouth to prevent a small whimper from escaping her lips. "Excuse me," she got out, "I need to…" She broke off, drawing a shuddering breath. "I will be back shortly."

And with that she stumbled out of her tent before she could embarrass herself in front of Legolas and contradict everything she had just said to convince him of her unbroken, unwavering loyalty. Staggering blindly into the night, she ignored Legolas calling after her, hoping that he would not follow, hoping that somewhere in the dark night she might find a place to pull herself together again before she fell apart completely.

Leaving behind the sea of lights cast by the many small fires, she quickly put as much distance between herself and their camp as she could, repeating one question over and over in her head. How could it ever get this far? And the only answer that she had to this, was that apparently it was not only her own king that was blinded by motives far beyond what she perceived of as honorable. That selfishness and avarice were what governed this world, making all of their leaders ignorant to the true threats that were lurking in the shadows, only waiting for one – or all - of them to take a false step.

She gazed up at the stars in the sky and thought that had she been wise enough to realize this earlier, had she foreseen that Oakenshield would turn the dwarves' quest into a suicide mission for himself and his company, she might never had saved the young dwarf prince. Because, after all, what good had it done? She had brought him back from the shadows, had allowed herself to let her guard down and be touched by his soft brown eyes somewhere deep inside of herself, only to have to watch him be killed by her own kin. Possibly by her own hand, if what she had told Legolas only minutes ago was true.

Ascending a small hill covered in tall, damp grass, Tauriel let her head hang low when she realized that no, she would probably not have acted any differently had she known what the outcome of Thorin Oakenshield's quest would be. Because, no matter how hard she had tried to deny it in front of Legolas, her sole reason for leaving Thranduil's halls to follow the dwarves had been that she knew if she let Kíli die without at least trying to save him, she would never forgive herself, would never find peace again.

She jumped a little when she raised her gaze again and, in the pale light of the decrescent moon, saw a lone figure sitting on what appeared to be a flat rock at the top of the small hill she was currently climbing. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized who this was.

The small sound escaping her lips made Kíli raise his own head and he smiled sadly when his eyes fell upon her. For a moment they just stared at each other. "It seems that you always find me, no matter where," Kíli finally said, his voice tense and a little raspy.

Tauriel averted her gaze for a moment, frowning at the implications of his words. Yes, she always did seem to find him, as if they were tied together by an invisible cord, making it impossible for either of them to get away from the other without them noticing. Most of those times she arrived just in time to save his life, but not this time – now he seemed quite safe, despite the fact that the danger looming above him was much more grave than any of the life-threatening situations he had found himself in since she had met him what seemed so long ago, but had in fact only been a few days past. Looking back up at him, she saw him scoot over on the rock he was sitting on, an unspoken, shy invitation in his eyes.

Shrugging herself out of her stupor, she quickly ascended the last few feet and gingerly lowered herself next to the young, strangely handsome dwarf, unable to quite look at him. An awkward silence fell between them for a few moments.

Finally Kíli cleared his throat. "I have never had the chance to thank you properly for healing me back at Laketown. Nor for saving my sorry ass twice before that." That much was true. While she did in no way reprimand him for not expressing his thanks previously, she did regret that, amongst the chaos created by the arrival of one terrible dragon, its subsequent destruction and unexpected return of her friend Legolas, they had never found the time to talk to each other without the hindrance of his fever, his delusional state. Without being able to sort out what exactly it was that made every moment they spent together feel slightly short of breath and more valuable than any jewel buried beneath that cursed mountain.

She smiled wryly in response to the dwarf's statement. "Do not worry yourself. What I did for you was merely a matter of course."

She felt his eyes on her. "It was?" It was only a few words, but the intensity with which he said them and the look that he gave her, made a shiver run down her spine. How was she supposed to answer this question? No, it was far from self-evident. I deserted my king, deserted my people, knowing that you might die a certain, cruel death if I didn't, unable to bear the thought?

When she did not reply, but blushed a little, Kíli added, his voice more than a little bitter. "It does not matter either way, I suppose. There won't be any more need to save me when this is done."

Finally, she found the courage to look him in the eye. The conflicting feelings mirrored in his gaze nearly took her breath away. "It should not be like this. Your people and my people against each other," she heard herself say, her voice crumbling slightly. "None of this should happen."

Her heart gave an unexpected jolt when his rough hand suddenly covered hers where it rested on the surface of the rock they were sitting on, his touch reminding her of when he had reached for her hand back in Bard's house. Only, where his touch had been hesitant and gentle back then, it was now desperate, bruising. "Do not grieve yourself over this," he said. "I understand that you have no choice in this matter. Look at me. I know that this is all a horrible mistake, a product of the insanity which has befallen my uncle. And yet I find myself unable to stand up to him, unable to try and change the path he has chosen for us. Mahal, I shouldn't even be out here. Thorin would be livid if he knew I had stolen outside, while they are working on sealing the mountain off on the inside." He looked at her with heartbreaking anguish in his gaze. "I wish I could stand up to him. But I cannot."

She looked straight at him for a few second, not knowing what to say to this because, really, there was nothing to say, nothing to argue. Turning her hand over beneath his palm, she lightly entwined her fingers with his, knowing that she should not, but unable to resist.

"Does it really have to be this way?" she finally asked, desperately searching her mind for a solution to their dilemma. "Is there truly nothing that can be done? Nothing that could convince your uncle of ending this?"

Immediately she could feel his barriers come back up again. He stiffened and withdrew his hand. "I told you already, there is nothing that I can do. Thorin will have war, and he shall get it." His tone had turned from warm to cold within the matter of a few seconds and he would not meet her eye. "If worse comes to worst, Tauriel, I want you to not hold back. Do what you need to do in order to keep your honor upright."

She inhaled sharply, shocked by his words. She knew that he said what he said only out of desperation, out of fear, but still it hurt. He had not said her name once since he had revealed his true feelings to her during his fever back at Laketown, and to hear it spoken now together with his indirect plea to kill him if need be was painful in ways beyond what she might have been able to put in words. Unable to deal with this, unable to confront the abyss that his words tore open inside of her, she jumped up from her seat. "Then I fear there is nothing else to say," she said, her voice hollow.

She meant to move away, meant to mumble a quick goodbye, something to give a verbal ending to this thing between them, even if she knew that her heart would not be satisfied by it. But as she took a step, his hand wrapped itself around her slender wrist, abruptly yanking her back around to face him.

In her position in front of the rock he was still perched on, his sudden movement caused her to come face to face with him more closely than she was used to being with anyone else, their difference in height balanced out by the relatively steep decline of the hill they found themselves on. More out of reflex than out of actual insult, she tried to pull away immediately. "What are you doing?" she hissed below her breath.

He did not answer right away, but let his gaze drift down to her lips ever so slowly, making her tremble slightly below his gaze. "If you do not want this," he whispered, his voice hoarse, "then I beg you, stop me. If you do not want this, then please teach me how to stop wanting it. How to stop wanting you." He lifted his eyes back up to hers, his tone tortured when he spoke again. "I cannot stand this, Tauriel. It is killing me to feel the way that I do."

To be continued...

Love it? Hate it? Please let me know what you think and leave a review.