"He's been asking about you ever since he's been well enough to sit up," Balin was telling Tauriel as he led her through the halls of the mountain. "Maybe now he'll finally get some rest."

She smiled slightly to herself. "Thank you for bringing me to see him. I, too, have been...anxious."

This portion of the fortress bustled with dwarves, Thorin's original company having been joined by Dain's army from the Iron Hills. She felt their eyes on her as she passed. They had heard what she had done for their new king, and their stares were not hostile, but rather wondering. She, too, gazed about herself in amazement. The halls and chambers of Erebor were truly overwhelming, even used as she was to the mountain fastness of the Greenwood. Chasms plunged beneath her, vaults soared above, and all echoed with their footsteps. The sound was slightly lonely yet, as if still carrying the memory of long, empty years. But she imagined that once the dwarves reestablished their lives here, those echoes would ring with life, comforting and welcome.

They were passing through domestic quarters now. The furnishings were musty with neglect, but already Tauriel could seen that things had begun to be tidied and lived in once more. She thought of her own woodland home, grown wild and overgrown under the shadow of Dol Guldur. The same work of tidying and renewal was to be done there, as well.

Balin led her to a closed door and paused, turning to her. "Not all of us may tell you so, but we all thank you for what you've done for the lad."

Tauriel bowed. "It has been my honor."

Balin opened the door on a richly furnished bedchamber. A dwarf sat in a chair with his back to them, reading aloud from a book. Kíli sat up, listening, in a bed that seemed somewhat too small for him and all the pillows that had been propped behind him. His face brightened as he saw her enter, and the other dwarf stopped reading to glance behind him. When he saw who was there, he snapped his book shut and hurried to his feet.

"Ori, at your service, Mistress Tauriel," he stammered, bowing low.

"Well met," she answered, offering a bow of her own.

"If you'll excuse me, miss, I think Dori needed me for something." He set the book aside and shuffled out of the room, with one last embarrassed glance at her face as he passed her.

She stifled a smile as she watched him leave. Just what were they all saying about her?

"Tauriel." The sound of Kíli's voice recalled her attention to him. He was smiling gently at her, seemingly a little embarrassed himself. As she crossed the room to him, Balin said from behind her, "I'll leave you to yourselves. If you need me, I'll be out in the receiving room." The door closed with a soft click.

"Tauriel," he said again as she gazed down at him. "Do you mind if I keep saying your name? It's almost as beautiful as you are." He grinned at his own foolishness.

"Kíli, you may say whatever you like." She sank to sit at the edge of the bed, facing him.

His eyebrows rose in a mischievous expression. "Anything?"

She nodded. "Yes, but first—" She caught his right hand in her own. With her other hand, she withdrew the runestone from a pocket. "I want to keep our promise." She set the stone in his fingers and curled them around it. "Amrâlimê," she said, looking him in the eyes. "Meleth nîn. I love you." She leaned forward and kissed him.

When she sat back, he was grinning helplessly at her. She found that she smiled, as well. This moment of love acknowledged and returned was an unexpected joy, one she had not known before.

"They said," he told her softly, "that you gave the fire of your spirit to me, that you nearly died." His hands moved over hers. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, with all my heart." She reached out and brushed his face with her fingertips. "Watching you die, knowing that I loved you and that you would never know, was one of the most horrible things I've ever felt. I was ready to give anything to keep you with me."

He flushed, abashed. "But I did know," he corrected her. "When you found me on Ravenhill, I knew."

Under the sweetness and trust of his gaze, Tauriel felt as if something were melting inside her. It was an unaccustomed sensation, but not an unpleasant one. "Tell me," she said cautiously after a few moments. "When you were fading, do you remember...? I dreamed you took my hand."

His expression grew thoughtful. "Yes," he said slowly. "I remember now. I dreamed that you drew me to a world of golden light. I thought dying would not be bad if you were there to hold my hand."

She laughed, a merry sound full of the triumph of joy over sorrow. "I would rather hold it now, with you alive and here with me." She felt her cheeks warm as she spoke; she was unused to speaking her feelings so freely, and new ones, at that.

Kíli nodded contentedly and tightened his fingers on hers.

"How do you feel today?" she asked after a few moments.

He groaned softly. "As if cave trolls have been using me as a welcome mat. Not that cave trolls have welcome mats. They've terrible manners, worse than dwarves,' even." He coughed, overtaken by his enthusiasm, and then lay back, breathing deeply with a pained look on his face.

Tauriel could see the bandages wound about his chest beneath the robe he wore loosely over his shoulders. The bandages were clean; he was no longer bleeding.

"They said my ribs are broken and one went through my lung." Kíli stopped, seeing her face blanche. "Oin's been trying to get me to drink his special 'healing tea.'" He gestured to a mug on the bedside table. "But it tastes horrid. He won't explain to me how dirty socks have healing properties."

Tauriel lifted the nearly full mug of lukewarm tea and tasted it cautiously. It had a pungent, herbal tang to it that she did not recognize, but she thought she tasted herbs that her own people valued for their healing powers. Kíli seemed pleased to catch her biting back a grimace. "Feverbane is very good for convalescents," she pronounced authoritatively and handed the mug to him.

He took it from her and sipped resignedly at it. "As long as you're sure it's not socks."

Tauriel tried not to laugh as he stared at her over the rim of the mug.

"What have you been reading?" she asked, reaching for the book Ori had left on the chair. It proved to be a history of the elven kingdoms of Eregion, written in the common tongue.

"I don't really know much about the elves," he explained as she turned the pages. "Ori found that in the library for me. But maybe you could tell me yourself."

Tauriel smiled and looked back up at him. "I would enjoy that very much."

"Well, Oin says I'm not going anywhere till my breathing gets stronger, so you might say I'm a captive audience, once again." He eyed her cheekily, before taking another sip of tea.

Tauriel regarded him with a raised eyebrow. "I seem to recall you did your best to draw my interest in the King's prison."

"Well, what was I supposed to do?" he replied earnestly. "You'd already captured me with your elvish grace."

Kíli didn't think he could ever tire of the sound of her clear, warm laugh. "Fair enough," she said.

"So I knew I'd have to win you on natural clumsiness alone," he finished.

"I think you're quite charming. And even eloquent," she assured him.

He gave her a crooked smile.

"You're tired," she observed. "I should let you rest."

Kíli nodded. "Wait," he directed, as she shifted to rise. He swallowed the rest of the tea, made a bitter face, and handed her the mug.

As she took it from him, she added, "I heard about your brother and your uncle. Kíli, I am sorry."

"Thank you," he said softly.

Impulsively, she leaned in and kissed his brow. "That's all the elvish healing I have for you today," she teased as she stood.

"It's enough."

Tauriel replaced the mug on the bedside table and, with her heart lighter than it had been for many a day, crossed the room and closed the door softly behind her.