HORIZONS OF SKY AND STONE
CHAPTER 1

The nighttime air was cool against her cheek as she rode through the twilight, the last rays of evening disappearing behind the distant foothills.

In front of her, the Lonely Mountain loomed, lit by the last few rays of dying light. For a day and a half she had rode tirelessly from the Woodland Realm towards the mountain, making as few stops as possible, and as it drew closer and clearer against the horizon her heart began to race; her fingers turning numb with excitement.

Now it stood so close; so close! She could already see how the flickering torches cast velvety shadows and dancing gold light upon the stone statues by the gate, and she urged her horse to ride on, faster.

He sat by the window, contemplating the light of the summer moon as it hung low and dusky in the sky.

It was the only light that entered the room; the corners of the echoing chamber farthest from the window were shrouded in darkness. Servants had come in not long ago, offering to light the braziers and candles, but he had sent them away.

"Just a little longer," he asked, and they left, curious at their lord's behaviour. As darkness descended and the moon rose, Kili's eyes searched the inky night skies for a trace of the stars. But tonight they hid behind a thin layer of cloud, their glimmer muted and soft.

He sighed, a dull pain settling in his chest. The light of the stars always reminded him of her; and when she was far away in her woodland home, he'd watch the stars dance across the night night sky and miss her. But tonight the stars were hidden; they were just as far away as she was, and he wondered with an aching longing when he would be able to see her again.

It had been a year since Erebor was reclaimed. The dusts of battle had settled, and once the dead were buried and mourned, they had begun to rebuild. The people of Lake-town settled in Dale, restoring the ruined buildings, raising farms, and even resuming trade. Dwarves from the Iron Hills had come to Erebor to help rebuild their long-abandoned kingdom - at first in small, trickling groups, but now their folk as far as the Blue Mountains arrived in droves, bringing with them tools and goods and much-needed resources. They had begun to work in the mines and forges, and once more the halls were filled with song and voices and golden light - as if they had never left.

And Tauriel had returned to the Greenwood, where her King Thranduil had lifted her banishment and reinstated her post as Captain of the Guard. But, curiously, she had been given a new responsibility: emissary between the Kingdom of Erebor and the Woodland Realm, and had since visited twice on official errand to deliver messages and news. It had been half a year since her last visit, and Kili was beginning to wonder if King Thranduil felt the role no longer suited her.

There was a knock at his door. He gave permission to enter, and a guardsman stood in the doorway, bowing respectfully.

"My lord," the guardsman said. "A guest for you approaches."

Kili recognized at once that this was one of the watchmen who stood guard over the main gates of Erebor. And from the tone of the guard's voice, and the fashion the message was delivered, made him realize instantly who this particular guest was. It was no secret in Erebor that their Prince Kili particularly favoured the Elven emissary, and everyone - from the King's high council members to the lowliest kitchen-hand - knew that when she arrived, Kili would be the first person who wanted to know.

He leapt from the window ledge. "Thank you," he said, barely able to conceal his excitement; "Thank you!" and he flew from the room running.

The watchmen by the gates heard her horse approaching, recognized its rider. They lowered the drawbridge. As it slowly descended, Tauriel's heart was beating so wildly in her chest it felt as if it had grown wings.

She surged forward as she approached, never slowing, and even before the lip of the bridge touched ground she and her horse leapt into the yawning cavern of an entrance, galloping until she was flanked by the towering pillars and echoing golden halls of Erebor.

A familiar figure came running from the end of the hall. She let out a breathless gasp, his name already on her lips, and reined her horse to a stop. She dismounted in a single, fluid movement, her feet in flying in leaps as they touched the ground.

"Tauriel!" he called, and she rushed forward to embrace him. She'd fallen to her knees, and he was laughing as he caught her.

He smelt of sunshine and deep summer, of hay and fine wine and old leather. She missed this smell, so much. Her fingers dug into the furs of his fine cape as she leaned into him, and soon tears pricked at her eyes.

"Tauriel?" he said again, this time softer, more tenderly. He drew back and looked into her face; and she hurriedly brushed away her tears.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, smiling apologetically. "I have traveled so long to get here. I hardly stopped to rest; I was so impatient."

"I would have told you to rest in Dale for the night, and just come in the morning," Kili replied, unable to stop smiling. "But I'm happy you're here now. I wanted to see you again, so badly."

Tauriel looked up to meet his eyes. There were subtle changes since her last visit: His hair was longer and more elegantly groomed, held back neatly by a gold circlet that proclaimed his title as a Dwarven prince. His clothes were finer. His beard looked thicker, though it wasn't nearly as majestic as that of his brethren.

But he still looked at her with that familiar, fierce tenderness; that same boyish smile tugging at the corners of his lips; the gentleness of his voice that both excited and calmed her. She reached out and touched his face, feeling the roughness of his bearded cheek against her hand.

He turned his face to lightly kiss the inside of her palm. "I missed you," he said, quietly.

Tauriel nodded. "I missed you too, Kili."