the cage where you live

For the first couple of days, Kíli is not worried.

Durin's Day is drawing closer, yes, but Bilbo was not captured, and Gandalf is somewhere. The Elves have shown no sign of wanting to mistreat them, beyond confining them; they are well fed and comfortable. He can't see any of the other cells, any of his companions, but he can hear them every now and then. Fíli is close enough to exchange words with; the others make themselves known in shouts and songs.

And then he wakes one morning to Thorin's grief, echoed through the Company, and he realises. It's Durin's Day. The Quest has failed.

Tauriel does not seem to have any regular duties in the dungeon; he doesn't see her for days. But she comes one morning, dismissing the usual guard and seating herself outside his cell.

Kíli grips the bars, thinking quickly. "Tauriel, how many of us did you capture?"

"Are you planning a break out?" she asks, amused.

"Yes, as soon as I rip the bars from the walls." He leans against the bars. "Please, Tauriel. I am not asking where they are held. Only how many, and if they are well."

She considers him for a long time. "We took thirteen," she says finally. Kíli concentrates on not reacting either way. "All were well and unharmed, though Thorin seems to have slipped into despair since."

"Yes," Kíli mutters. "He would – is he alone?" He hasn't heard Thorin's voice since the day his grief echoed through the halls, and none of the others ever have messages from him.

"You are all alone."

"Yes," he says again, retreating to sit. "We are."

Tauriel stands. "Is there anything you need?"

"Key to the door?"

"Kíli."

He smiles faintly. "No. Thank you. To know they are unharmed is plenty." He glances to his right. "Tauriel, my brother Fíli is the next along; he is blond, he will be angry. Please tell him I'm well. I call to him, but I think he doesn't believe me."

"Will he believe me?"

"No. But if we tell him enough, he may accept it."

She nods, turning away; a moment later he hears her voice and Fíli's angry answer, though he can't hear the words.

Sighing, he sits down and tries to think.


Three months in, and Tauriel is back. They speak of inconsequentials for a time, and she assures him that the others are well.

"Even Thorin?"

"He is still – he is not what he was when he came here first. But he eats, he speaks, he sleeps."

Kíli nods thoughtfully. "Thank you."

"Your brother cursed me as I walked by," she adds.

Kíli grins, delighted. "He's been doing that to all of the guards. I think he hopes to provoke them. I told him it would not work."

"Not on me." She tilts her head, studying him; Kíli is fiddling with his runestone, apparently without realising. "Kíli, if you wish it, I will try to have word sent to your mother."

Kíli stills, staring at her. "My mother."

"I cannot tell her where you are," she says apologetically. "But I could tell her that you and your brother are safe."

Kíli shakes his head, but the effort is obvious. "She would not believe it without our name signs, and I cannot give you those. Thank you. No."

"As you wish."

He stands, fingers wrapping around hers on the bars. "Thank you, Tauriel."


Eight months in, and an illness sweeps through the dungeons. Elvish healers come, but the Dwarves are mostly left alone.

Kíli goes down early, burns through his illness in a couple of days, and begins to recover, though he is weak still. The guards tell him nothing, no matter how he begs, and no one answers his calls. He is frantic when Tauriel comes, days after he's started to recover.

"Kíli." She kneels outside his door; Kíli sinks to sit against the wall. "What has happened?"

"An illness – you weren't told?"

"I have been on patrol these last weeks. I only returned this morning."

He glances up automatically, though the light in the cells is constant during the day. "Morning."

"It's late afternoon. If I had known, I would have come sooner. Are you well?"

"I am recovering. Only tired. But Tauriel, no one will tell me of my friends, and they don't answer when I call. Please, please tell me how they fare."

"I will find out," she promises. "Have you been left alone?"

"The healers came. They said there was little to do; the illness runs its' course and we live or we die without their aid." His tone is bitter and angry.

"I will find out, Kíli. Rest. I will return soon." She turns and hurries away, and Kíli lets his head rest against the wall.

When she returns she unlocks his door. Kíli blinks at her, alarmed. "Tauriel?"

"The guards have separated you. That is why no one answers you. They thought to slow the spread of the illness if you were kept far apart." She reaches to help him stand, but he pulls away, using the wall for support. "Most of your companions are on the mend. Thorin did not take ill at all, nor the young one – Ori, I believe they said. There is some doubt about Balin, as he is older and has more trouble recovering, but he insists he will be well."

"Most." Kíli is watching her carefully.

Sh reaches for him again. "I must hold your arm, Kíli. If the guards see you loose it will mean trouble for both of us."

"Where are we going?" he asks, voice tight. He doesn't fight her grip, but he is tense and he knows she can feel it.

"Your brother is very ill," she murmurs. "I will do what I can, though I am not a true healer. But I will not keep you apart."

The walk from his cell to Fíli's exhausts Kíli; it's everything he can do to totter over to the cot where Fíli lies, tossing in feverish sleep. He sinks down beside him, leaning over to press their foreheads together. "He's burning," he murmurs.

"It's a good sign; it means he is fighting. I need supplies, Kíli, I must lock you in. If the guards protest, tell them I brought you here."

"Thank you, Tauriel." He takes Fíli's hand, lacing their fingers together, and his brother quiets at his touch. "Thank you."

Tauriel works with Fíli and Balin both, and whether through her medicine or their own stubborness both recover. Kíli sits with his brother until he can sit up, until he can take care of himself; then he docily allows Tauriel to return him to his own cell.

The guards keep the Dwarves apart. Kíli can no longer hear their songs.


A little over a year, and Tauriel comes to his door. "Stand," she tells him, unlocking it.

"What is happening?"

"Ssssh, less noise. Do you trust me?"

"Yes," he says warily. "To a point."

She produces a skein of rope, reaching for his hands. Kíli allows her to do it; when she's finished, he tests the bind, discovering that while it looks solid, it's easily pulled apart.

"If we meet anyone, do not speak," she tells him quietly.

"Where are we going? To Fíli?"

"Yes. But somewhere else, first."

"Is something wrong?"

"No. Nothing is wrong. All your friends are fine."

He follows her through the palace, head down. None of the guards they pass seem to think that anything is amiss, and they reach the tiny balcony she'd been aiming for without being stopped.

Kíli pulls his hands free as soon as they're alone, and she frowns but lets him do it. They're unlikely to be found here.

"What are we doing here, Tauriel?" he asks.

Tauriel lifts her chin towards a nearby stand of trees. She's managed to time this perfectly. "Look."

Kíli half turns, so he can see what she's pointing at without putting his back to her. In the same moment, the fire moon bursts over the trees, huge and so close, near enough to touch.

He stares at it for a long time without moving. Tauriel does not hurry him.


Nearly two years, and Thorin is sliding back towards despair as Durin's Day approaches again. Tauriel has taken Kíli to see the others or to visit the balcony a handful of times, when she can do it without being caught; none of them seem to begrudge his limited freedom.

Tauriel appears at his door late one afternoon. "Kíli."

"Tauriel," he returns without standing. It seems so much effort, lately.

She watches him for a moment before speaking. "Kíli, how much influence do you hold with your friends?"

"Influence?" He scoffs. "Almost none. Why?"

"If you can get their word that they will not try to run, I will take them to the balcony, as I have you. It isn't freedom, but it is fresh air, and even a Dwarf must grow weary down here."

"Even a Dwarf," he murmurs. "I will save you some time, Tauriel. They won't agree. Take your pity somewhere it will do some good."

"Kíli!" she protests.

"Do you think Thorin would allow you put rope to his wrists, even for show? Dwalin? Fíli? They have the right of it, and I am a fool. Go away, Tauriel." He turns, putting his back to her, tense and unhappy.

Tauriel is silent for a long time. "Kíli," she says finally, softly. "What happened? Something has upset you. Let me help."

Kíli laughs sharply. "Yes. Something upset me."

"What is it?"

He rolls off the cot, stalking towards the door, and Tauriel takes a step back before she can catch herself. She has never been afraid of Kíli, but something is very wrong here.

"I heard the guards talking." Kíli halts just before touching the bars, eyes locked on hers. His voice is cold and sharp. "I don't know if they thought I couldn't hear, or knew and didn't care – they talked about the blond dwarf, and how he's almost healed. They laughed at someone who would strike the wall so hard as to break the bones in his own hand. They spoke of how the healer ordered him tied down so he would not hurt himself again."

Tauriel has bowed her head at his first words. "Kíli. I did not know this. I would have told you, brought you to him."

"Yes," Kíli agrees, still ice cold. "You did not know, because you do not care. You don't visit them. They get no consideration, as I do. I walk in the sun while my people rot in your pit. No more. From now on I will take nothing from you that they do not also get, Tauriel."

"You get nothing they do not now. Except a few words from me."

"Then that will finish now." His gaze softens, for just a moment, and he murmurs, "I am sorry."

"I would have told you, if I had known."

"I know." Kíli turns away and goes back to lie down, back to the door.

After a long time, Tauriel leaves.

She returns, over the next few days, but only to give him brief updates on Fíli. She tells him she has persuaded the healer to have him released from his bonds; she tells him Fíli is well; she tells him Fíli worries about him. Kíli listens in silence, unmoving. Tauriel asks for a message for Fíli, for the others. Kíli ignores her.

One day she comes to open his cell. "Stand."

"Why?"

"Your brother is very vocal. His guards are becoming increasingly frustrated. Perhaps you can convince him to stop. Come."

Kíli shakes his head, gripping the bars of the open door. "Do you have permission for this?"

"No more or less than I've ever had."

He shakes his head again. "I can't."

"Kíli, we will not be caught."

"It's not that."

"Then what? He wants to see you. Let me take you to him."

Kíli's fingers tighten on the bars. "If you take me to him," he says, clearly concentrating on each word, "I will fight you when you try to take me away again. I won't be able not to."

"You've seen him before."

"That was a long time ago. We are Dwarves, Tauriel. We need our kin. If your people don't start letting us see each other, more of us will do as Fíli and Thorin have. And if you take me to my brother now, I will fight to stay with him, and he with me. We will be heard, and you will be caught."

Tauriel studies him. "You could have gone to him without telling me. Why warn me?"

Kíli groans. "For pity's sake, Tauriel, close the door. Don't make me fight this."

She has to fight him to get the door closed, eventually pushing him back far enough to swing it into place. Kíli swings back towards her, relaxing slightly when he sees the locked door.

"It's like fire, burning under our skin," he tells her, eyes closed. "We need each other. A Dwarf alone is not a Dwarf."

"Why warn me?" she asks gently.

"You have tried to be kind. If you ask me again, I don't think I'll be able to say no. Just tell him I'm well, please, and leave me alone."

"Kíli, I want to help you."

"There is no help for this! We are Dwarves. We do not sit idle, we do not flourish in captivity, we do not live apart. Your king was cruel indeed to choose this punishment. But Thorin will not give him what he wants. He will die first."

"And let all of you die too? Is that your king?"

Kíli nods. "And let all of us die too. That is our king. And I would choose him over yours a thousand times."

"Why?" Tauriel asks softly.

He closes his eyes. "My king loves me." And he does not answer again.

Guards come for Kíli as he sleeps. He lets them take him out of the cell; then he twists, fighting, biting, scratching. The guards are forced back a step and he whirls.

Tauriel stands calmly in front of him. "Kíli."

"Out of my way." He barely recognises his own voice.

"No. Come with me."

"Tauriel..."

She steps closer and he hesitates, panting. "I told you," he says, quietly enough that the guards won't hear him.

"You told me," she agrees. "And I listened. Come with me."

Kíli follows her. Tauriel warns off the guards with quick, harsh words, and they don't try to touch them, though they follow at a distance. Kíli ignores them as much as he can. It's so hard not to break away, to run, shouting, through the halls until he finds Fíli.

They head down, and Kíli stifles a groan. Down is bad; further away from escape.

But then Tauriel waves him over one of the narrow stone bridges, to an open area below cliffs with cells set into the sides, doors hanging open. There's no way out, only over the bridge, but he doesn't care because Ori and Oin and Bofur are there, and just stepping out of a cell...

He flings himself at the blond figure, murmuring fragments of Westron and Kuhzdul, nothing that makes sense even to him; it doesn't matter, because Fíli is doing exactly the same thing to him.

Tauriel gives them a few moments before coming to stand beside them. "Kíli. I need your help."

Fíli growls something uncomplimentary in Khuzdul and Kíli very nearly laughs. "Don't," he says tiredly, pushing until Fíli's grip loosens. "She's been kind, as much as she can. What, Tauriel?"

"The rest of your group don't trust us enough to come. I need you to come and talk to them."

"I'll go," Fíli says.

"Fíli..."

"I'm his heir," Fíli says softly.

"I could go," Bofur offers from somewhere behind them.

"No, stay with Kíli." He turns to Tauriel. "Let's go, then."


Coming up to four years. Thorin is doing better, this year. Being together helps, though they are still bored, frustrated and confined, and now they are never unobserved.

They've all tried – endless strategy sessions in one cell or another – but the simple truth is, there is only one way out, and it is both blocked and guarded, with guards standing there and posted on the high ledges with bows and arrows. Kíli often watches them jealously. It's been years since he felt a bow in his hands.

Tauriel comes in one afternoon. She is still the only Elf who dares walk among them, and that only because Kíli has publicly given her his protection. Most of the others are hostile towards her, but no one touches her, and she seems immune to their glowers and angry words.

Kíli glances up; he and Fíli have been half heartedly playing with stone fragments. "Tauriel."

"Kíli." She crouches to study the game board they've scratched into the ground. "Hello, Fíli. What are you doing?"

"Playing. There's nothing else to do." Fíli tries to be polite to her for Kíli's sake, but it's barely any better than the others.

"You, or he, could come outside for a time, one at a time," Tauriel offers.

"I told you," Kíli says without looking up.

"Yes. I know."

Fíli nudges him, and he murmurs, "I take nothing from her the rest of you don't get."

"Idiot," Fíli says, but there's affection in the words.

"Tauriel!"

They all three turn, and Kíli frowns at the Elf standing just on their side of the bridge. "Tauriel?" he murmurs.

"Legolas Thranduilion," she tells him.

Kíli closes his eyes, wincing. "Get him out of here," he says, almost under his breath, and Fíli gives him a look of pure betrayal.

Tauriel looks up again, notes the way the Dwarves are gradually closing in on Legolas, and pushes to her feet. "Do you need anything?" she asks, consciously trying to sound normal.

"Actually..." Fíli starts.

"No," Kíli says over him. "Thank you."

Tauriel nods, turns, and goes to join Legolas. She can sense the Dwarves' anger as she guides the Prince out, and she hopes they won't turn it on Kíli.

Which brings the question; why did he speak up? That's twice, now, that he's gone against what he clearly wants to help her. She can't understand why. All he had to do was keep silent, and the Dwarves would have taken a hostage that may have secured their freedom.

In the next few days reports filter up that the Dwarves have begun sparring in their jail. If Thranduil hears of it, he does nothing to stop it. The guards begin thronging on the upper walkways to watch, and she catches bets being passed between them, sometimes.

She doesn't stare or bet, as the guards do, but she sees snatches of it sometimes as she passes. Even bare handed, the Dwarves are formidable fighters, and though their confinement has obviously left them weaker than normal, they are quickly regaining strength.

She might not have noticed, if she hadn't paused by two guardsmen as they discussed the Dwarves, heard them agree that the youngest was a sure loss, that he is always beaten no matter who he's paired with. She watches for a while, then, sees that Kíli is called too often, more than the others, forced into fights he clearly can't handle. His brother and one other usually only knock him down and leave him; the others seem to delight in forcing him into submission, pinning him down painfully, drawing out the fight far beyond the needful. The others are allowed to withdraw; Kíli never withdraws. His fights go until he physically can't continue. He takes it all with grim determination.

She joins the group bringing food to them that evening, waves off Fíli's attempt to stop her and goes to crouch beside Kíli. "Kíli," she murmurs.

Kíli avoids her look. "Tauriel."

"They are angry at you."

He shrugs. "It will pass. All things pass."

She brushes feather light fingers over the bruise on his wrist. "So I see."

He twitches away. "Tauriel, you do not help me by coming here." There's no anger in his voice. Somehow it makes it harder to bear.

"I only wish an answer."

"What answer?"

"Why did you warn me? With Legolas as hostage you may have been able to bargain freedom."

"No. With Legolas as hostage, his father would have decided that Thorin's plans were not worth it. His archers would have killed us where we stood, or trapped us and let us starve. And you would have either had to fight us or be declared a traitor for your aid to me. Either way would bring pain to you and death to my people." His eyes meet hers. "I made a choice I do not regret, and I will take what results. Now please. Go away."

"Shall I return in a few days?"

He smiles, painfully. "Things pass more slowly than that for Dwarves. They won't forget so soon. Please. Don't come back."

Tauriel nods, rising to her feet. He doesn't want her to see his pain, and if that's all she can do for him she'll do it. "If that is your wish, Kíli."

He nods, and across the open area Thorin calls angrily, "Kíli, we are iwaiting/i!" A lie; Fíli is still struggling against his opponent, but Kíli nods and stands, walking away from Tauriel without looking back at her.