Chapter 04

The air was crisp as Tauriel drifted through the streets of Dale, trying to get her bearings and locate a possible source of food and water. It felt good to be outside again and to clear her head from the troubling thoughts and feelings of the last hours. At the same time, however, it seemed that with every step she took away from Kíli, her uneasiness grew. The shock of almost having lost him forever was still fresh in her mind, and without being able to continuously reassure herself with eyes, ears and touch that he was really still alive, fear began to take hold in her heart once more.

She decided that she would return to his side as swiftly as possible, not only for the sake of her own sanity, but also for his safety. Her assumption had been correct – there had been not one, but two Elven guards posted outside the humble dwelling in which Kíli was hidden from curious eyes. The reasons for their presence Tauriel could only speculate about. Had the king ordered them there as a means of protection for Kíli or rather to ensure that he was not going anywhere for the time being? Both options seemed rather little unsettling.

Navigating through the streets of Dale was more of a challenge than Tauriel had hoped. Due to her seclusion of the day and night before, she had not realized how many people currently resided in the formerly abandoned city. Now every alley seemed to be crowded with men, women and children trying to make themselves at home amongst the ruins, distributing the scarce resources so that everyone received their share.

After what seemed like a long time, Tauriel finally found what appeared to be a temporary, communal kitchen and gratefully accepted two bowls of thin but hot broth from an elderly woman who eyed her with curiosity. Tauriel smiled at her and deflected the question whether she was of the Mirkwood people by asking where she might get some water. It was better, she had decided on her way there, to draw as little attention to herself as possible, both from the former Laketown citizens and from her own people. There were too many questions they might ask for which she simply had no answers.

While she was filling the canteen she had brought at a well the old woman from the kitchen had directed her to, Tauriel was suddenly almost thrown off-balance by a pair of little but quite strong arms being wrapped around her midsection. She jumped, barely managing not to spill the water, and turned around to find little Tilda beaming up at her.

"Tauriel!" the girl exclaimed a little breathlessly. "I'm so happy to find you well. I asked some of the other Elves if they had seen you, but they wouldn't speak to me and then Da told me to stop bothering them."

Tauriel found herself smiling at that and she reached down to cup the girl's cheek in her palm. "As you can see, I am unharmed," she assured her. "But how are your brother and sister? And your father?"

"Oh, they're all fine," Tilda replied. "Da is very, very busy – suddenly everyone seems to want something from him all the time. I don't think he minds though. He often takes Bain with him when he goes out. And Sigrid – Well, she's fine, too, but she is very sad all the time." Tilda's innocent eyes were wide with feeling for her older sister.

Tauriel frowned, worried by what she was hearing. "Why is that?"

Tilda shrugged. "She says it's because of the bad things that have happened. I keep telling her that it's alright, and that we should be happy none of us four were harmed. But she says that other people matter, too, and that many of them are sad because their parents or children or brothers and sisters are dead now."

Tauriel's thoughts immediately went to Kíli who grieved for his uncle and brother and she felt a by now almost familiar weight settle in her stomach. For the little girl's sake though, she tried not to let her feelings show. Instead she knelt down and looked intently at Tilda. "Your sister is right of course – some terrible things have come to pass. But you are right, too. You are all alive and well and you do not have to feel guilty for being happy about that."

Tilda nodded thoughtfully. "I do feel very sorry for the nice dwarves though," she then said, her voice small. "Da told us what happened to their king and his nephew. They must all be so sad now."

The innocently spoken words felt like an arrow piercing Tauriel's heart and it took her a moment to recover. She looked at Tilda, who stared back at her with wide, unassuming eyes, and debated whether or not she should ask the question that was burning on her tongue. Glancing over her shoulder to ensure that no one was listening in on their conversation, she resolved that it was highly unlikely that the girl would understand the intention behind what she meant to ask.

"Tell me," she said, keeping her voice low, "did your father also mention whether the dwarves are still looking for Thorin Oakenshield's other nephew?"

She knew it was risky to bring up the issue, but she just needed to know. Had the dwarves already given up on Kíli? From Tilda's slightly puzzled expression, she could tell immediately that she had addressed the wrong person with her query.

"Looking for him?" Tilda asked, her eyes wide. "Why, is he lost?"

Clearly the girl had heard nothing about the disappearance of the other brother then. Tauriel took this to mean that the dwarves had kept Kíli's unknown whereabouts a secret which in turn could mean that they were still considering the possibility that he might be alive – and rightfully so, as only she, Thranduil and a handful of Elven healers knew.

To ease Tilda's apparent confusion she said, "I thought I heard someone mention something of that sort. But I probably just misheard – silly me."

Tilda nodded slowly. "He must be awfully sad," she then said. "The brother, I mean. I know I would be if something happened to either Sigrid or Bain."

"Yes," Tauriel mumbled, trying not to show how well she really did understand the suffering of the young dwarf who had lost his brother and also his uncle. Her need to return to Kíli's side was growing more pressing by the minute and she had just resolved to bid Tilda farewell when the girl said something that caught her attention.

"Do you think he will be a good king, though?"

Tauriel froze. "Who?"

"The young dwarf, of course." Tilda frowned in concentration. "I can never seem to get their names straight – they all sound the same! Anyway, Da said that he will probably be made king now that the old one – his uncle – is dead."

"Kíli," Tauriel whispered, her mind numb with shock.

"Yes! That was his name – at least I think it was," Tilda exclaimed, her smooth brow furrowed in thought. "I told Da I liked him well enough when they were at our old house. Some of the dwarves were quite rude – funny, but rude – but he was nicer than most of the others and only a tiny bit rude."

Tauriel nodded even though she was barely listening anymore. How, by all the stars in the heavens above, could she have been so absorbed in her own, complicated feelings and her overwhelming relief that Kíli had, once again, been spared a horrible death that she had failed to look beyond what was visible to the eye and grasp the implications of both Thorin's and Fíli's death?

With Thorin gone, no sons that she was aware of left behind, the throne would fall to his nephews. And now that the older one had passed away as well, it was the younger one who would be King under the Mountain. Kíli would be King under the Mountain.

"I have been so blind," she mumbled, looking over her shoulder at the mountain looming over them. It was fairly obvious to her that Kíli had not for one second been oblivious to the responsibility that had suddenly fallen onto his shoulders. If anything, his behavior made much more sense to her now than it had before. The strange twisting in her gut that his reluctance to join his people had caused - this was the reason why she had felt that way. Even while her mind had been too preoccupied to realize the true dimensions of the burden Kíli now carried, she had somehow sensed it in his voice, his eyes, his touch.

"Blind?" Tilda then asked, tearing Tauriel out of her thoughts. "I do not understand. Your eyes seem to work just fine!"

Involuntarily, Tauriel laughed at that and pressed her hand to her mouth when her laugh threatened to turn into a sob. The last thing the girl needed was to be confronted with the heaviness she carried in her heart. Quickly she leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Tilda's temple.

"I must take my leave of you now," she whispered. "Farewell, little Tilda. Take good care of your sister."

"Will I see you again?" Tilda asked quickly, taking a hold of Tauriel's hand. Tauriel felt sorry for leaving her so abruptly, but after the realization she had just come to, she felt that she had to make haste.

"I hope so with all my heart," she returned and sent Tilda a last, genuine smile before picking up the dishes she had put down on the edge of the well to disappear back into the ocean of people flooding the streets.

If she found a chance, she would come back for the little girl, but right now she needed to direct her step away from her – and swiftly. For with the same certainty with which she now knew what the burden on Kíli's young soul was, she also knew that it might very well drive him to do something foolish, something reckless. She just hoped that she was not too late already.

The first coherent memory Kíli had of his brother was that of the annual celebration held on Durin's Day. In the Blue Mountains, where most of the Dwarven population were exiles from Erebor, the largest part of the festivities on that day was a rather solemn thing, consisting mostly of ceremonies that honored the ancient line of Durin. Thus it was rather uninteresting for both younger and older children.

They all looked forward to that holiday with anticipation anyway. This circumstance was owed to the parade held after dark – hundreds of dwarves went onto the streets that night, carrying lanterns of all imaginable shapes and colors. Some of them went on foot, others came on horseback and those that tried to stand out in particular would decorate whole carts or wagons with lights and let themselves be pulled though the streets by their ponies.

In the particular year that Kíli remembered so well, Fíli had been a fairly little boy still and he himself barely more than a toddler. Despite how little they were, they were allowed to go outside on their own and watch the lights bob by in the dark. Kíli remembered how their initial bravado had been somewhat dampened by the scary feeling of being out in the dark, amongst so many tall, dark shapes and he had felt Fíli's hand clutching his, the two brothers holding onto each other for reassurance.

Kíli's own fear had however been forgotten the moment he had laid eyes on the largest of the wagons as it had been pulled by. On the wagon was Balin with some friends of his and they were all carrying large, flat bowls into which they had put some concoction and then set fire to it. The result was that the most extraordinary flames burned in those bowls, sending bright, silvery sparks everywhere, making the whole cart look as if was surrounded by millions of tiny, perfect stars.

Mesmerized by the beauty of this spectacle, Kíli had wrenched his hand out of Fíli's grasp and had pushed through the crowd in front of him, hurrying after the miniature version of a sky full of stars as fast as his little feet would carry him. Behind him, he could hear the panicked yelp of his brother, but as he had turned to look over his shoulder, Fíli's shaggy blonde head had been nowhere to be seen amongst the dark cloaks of faceless grownups.

Undeterred, he had continued his pursuit of Balin's group, drawing closer and closer to the wagon that had slowed down a little bit because of a group of dwarves that was obstructing the road ahead. Finally the vehicle had been within arm's reach and, with greater momentum than most would have thought possible for such a small boy, he had thrown himself forward, his tiny fingers closing around the wooden planks of the wagon.

Kíli remembered very well how, for a few moments, he had just hung there, stupefied by his surprise of actually having achieved his objective. Another burst of sparks from above had however quickly pulled him out of this stupor and he had laughed happily at being so close to this pretty spectacle now. Not quite close enough though, for he had longed to be able to reach out with his hand and see how the little stars would feel against his skin.

Using all his strength, Kíli had tried to pull himself up onto the platform, which was not an easy task with the way that the wagon now rattled on through the streets. He had tried to avoid looking at the ground below, for whenever he did, a slightly queasy feeling would begin to lodge itself in his stomach, a voice at the back of his head whispering that maybe this had not been his most clever idea of all times.

After a few futile attempts, he had finally managed to swing a leg onto the platform where, unaware of their little passenger, Balin and his friends had been standing. His delight at that fact had however been short-lived because only a split second after, a jolt of the wagon had caused his fingers to slip from the wooden surface they had been holding onto.

Desperately he had clung to the moving vehicle by his fingertips and a panicked glance over his shoulder had told him that letting go was simply not an option – right behind them another wagon had pulled up and if he fell now, unseen in the dark, the sturdy ponies pulling the cart would trample right over him.

Fear had choked up his throat then, so that when he tried to call for help, only a feeble squeak made it past his lips. He had tried to focus his energy on pulling his body up and into safety, but soon all he had been able to see had been the ground flying by beneath and all he had been able to hear had been the sound of hooves behind him.

The sequence of the things that had happened next, Kíli had never been entirely able to get in order. He had heard a shout – "KILI!" – and from the corner of his eye he had seen a shadow leap past him with impressive agility. Before that, or right after, or maybe simultaneously, he had lost his hold entirely and he had felt his body sag towards the ground. He had squeezed his eyes shut then, but the expected impact with the ground had never come. Instead he had felt hands wrap themselves around his forearm, pulling him up violently. This sudden breaking of his fall had caused something in his shoulder to pop and he had screamed out in agony.

Through a haze of pain he had gazed up and seen his brother's face looking down at him, his lips pressed together tightly and his face wet from both tears and sweat as he had held onto him for dear life. And even though nothing in his short life had ever hurt as much as his shoulder did at that moment, Kíli had felt himself calm down as he stared back at Fíli, for the message written all over his older brother's face had been clear: I've got you and I'm not letting go of you. Not now, not ever.

Alerted by Kíli's scream, the adult dwarves on the wagon had quickly abandoned their business and had rushed to the back of the cart to rescue the little boy from his predicament, finally pulling him up onto the platform. Kíli had cried and cried and cried, both from pain and shock. He remembered not much about what had happened after, only the worried faces of the elder dwarves and the fact that he had refused to let anyone except for Fíli touch him. For with Fíli he had felt safe.

In the aftermath of that incident, Fíli had gotten a lot of grief both from their mother and from their uncle. With both boys being too frightened still to properly account for the events that had taken place, all the adults could assume was that the two of them had tried to get onto the wagon and that the younger had slipped and nearly gotten seriously injured or possibly even killed in the attempt. Fíli, as the older and the one to whom Kíli looked up to, had been reprimanded for getting his little brother into such a dangerous situation. Shouldn't he know better?

Fíli had sat silently through their lectures and had accepted his punishment – which had not been lenient – without a word. Kíli, who had still been sobbing then, cradling his dislocated shoulder – had opened his mouth to protest, but Fíli had silenced him with a shake of his head. Kíli remembered staring at his brother, unable to comprehend why he would simply take the blame for something he had had no fault in. It had been Kíli, after all, who had run away, who had tried to climb the wagon. And all of that merely because he had been trying to reach for the stars. How foolish.

But Fíli had simply taken the hand on Kíli's uninjured arm in his and had smiled at him reassuringly. And Kíli had understood then that none of this – the adults' words, their punishment – mattered to his brother. For one thing, Thorin and Dís would probably not have believed the true story anyway. Such a small boy, coming up with such a dangerous, reckless thing? Impossible. More importantly though, the only thing that Fíli had cared about had been that Kíli was safe – risking everything, even his own life, would be worth that a thousand times.

There were many similar scenarios that had occurred throughout the years that Kíli could remember. But it was this particular memory that, during darker moments, had never failed to remind him how fierce, how unconditional his brother's love for him was and that he could always count on him, even if all else failed.

As Kíli resurfaced from his very intense memory of his brother, he realized that his face was wet. Angrily he wiped at his eyes with the overlong sleeves of the shirt the elves had dressed him in, but the tears would simply keep coming. Eventually he gave up and, just for a few moments, embraced his grief and let the realization that Fíli would never be there to look after him envelop him.

He tried to stop himself, however, when he reached the inevitable point where he asked himself the question how he would go on after this, how life without his brother would look like. He could not admit those thoughts into his head for the simple reason that he knew very well what he must do, where his duty lay now that both Thorin and Fíli were no more. He had known from the second he had first realized that he was the only one out of the three of them who had survived. However, knowing his duty and feeling in any way prepared to fulfill it where two separate things.

It felt to Kíli as if the person he was and the one of whom his people would expect to follow in the footsteps of his uncle and brother where two different beings altogether. Yes, of course he had proudly referred to himself as an heir of Durin for all of his life – it was only now, however, that he truly understood what that meant, what a burden it was that a dwarf of this royal line had to carry. A heavy burden it was indeed, and one that he had never been meant to carry in the first place. Help to alleviate it first for his uncle and then later, at some point in the distant future, for his brother maybe. Alone under its weight he feared that he would crumble, that the weight of his responsibility would grind him to dust.

Panic rose in Kíli's throat and, before he knew it, he had pushed himself up from his cot and swung his legs over the side, overcome by the need to run but having nowhere to run to in the first place. Also, he realized quite painfully, his body still was a long way from obeying him and so he tethered on the edge of his sickbed, the pain in his limbs fighting a war with the pain in his soul.

When the cover at the front of the room was suddenly thrown back, Kíli flinched and tried to compose himself. Tauriel did not need to find him this way. She had risked so much for him already and the least he could do to repay her was to not let her see what a pathetic wreck she had sacrificed not just her position, but also her home for.

He took a deep breath and looked up only to almost choke on the air he had just drawn into his lungs. For it was not the slight form of the red-haired elf-maid that stood in the doorway, but the Elvenking himself. Thranduil.

Author's note: Whoops, cliffhanger, sorry about that. The next chapter will be quite tense, as you can probably guess by now. As always, thanks for reading, favoriting, following, and reviewing!