A/N: A bit of clarification for this fic because I think its probably pretty easy to get confused considering how much the movie differed from the book sometimes. When discussing Thorin's father (Kili's grandfather) I followed the book rather than the movie. Thrain was not captured at the gates of Moria, he was in fact captured on an ill-fated journey to reclaim Erebor when the gold lust started to get the better of him. I stretched the truth a bit with the whole 'entire army of dwarves killed' bit though, you know, for drama.
Anyway, look! An update! Hopefully everyone enjoys some more fluffiness before we start to get into the fun with the dwarves from Ered Luin and, more importantly, the Princess Dis. Keep a look out for Legolas, he's just itching to get back into this story. ;)
The reviews have been pure awesomeness as we all collectively forget the ending of BotFA and forever live in a state of pure denial. It's beautiful, isn't it? Anyway, your words truly give this story life.
Chapter Nine: Promises in the Dark
Oh, I'm a mess right now
Inside out
Searching for a sweet surrender
But this is not the end
I can't work it out
How going through the motions
Going through us
And, oh, I've known it for the longest time
And all of my hopes
All of my words
Are all over written on the signs
When you're on my road
Walking me home, home, home, home, home
And though I've only caused you pain,
You know but all of my words will always be low
Although all the lies we spoke
When you're on my road
Walking me home, home, home, home, home
-I'm a Mess, By Ed Sheeran
They dismounted at the ragged edge of Mirkwood and let the horses graze as the sun rose fully in a heavily clouded sky. The promise of snow hung thick in the air, an expectant chill that crept under clothing and armor and roughened lips while reddening ears and noses. Tauriel flipped back the hood of her cloak and stared up into the shadowed branches, wondering when they had become so foreboding, so unwelcoming and perilous.
"I promised myself I'd never enter these cursed woods again," Dwalin said grumpily, arms crossed tightly over his broad chest. "Is there no way to go around?"
"These are not the woods of my childhood," Tauriel murmured, almost to herself. She'd known it for years of course, but like the slow and steady decay of the world, she'd managed to overlook the worst of it. "A darkness grows within it still, a taint that has not yet been swept away." She reached out and touched a branch wondering what, if anything, could heal her homeland.
"Is it safe to travel?" Kíli asked as he paced to her side. She could see that his previous visit was still fresh in his mind as his eyes darted between shifting shadows and pale rays of light. The forest was certainly dangerous to those who did not know where to step, and increasingly so to those who did. He stood close to her, his shoulder brushing her arm and his breath a soft cloud obscuring his face, his nearness made the chill of the wind less biting and her melancholy less potent. His presence made her not so afraid in the face of the unknown, she realized with sudden clarity. He gave her courage, as though it was she and him, back to back, with the darkness of the world surrounding them. The urge to take his hand was sudden and strong and she clenched her fingers tightly together in resistance.
"I can lead you on safe paths," she said and the words took on a sudden weight, a shared glance that carried the new revelation of what was between them. Kíli smiled softly and she returned it tentatively.
It had been three days since the night on the moors above Laketown and they'd had little time to speak in private since. But there was no denying that there was an increased awareness of one another, a subtle but profound shift in their mannerisms. The need to wish one another goodnight, lingering over their packs and tents as they helped tighten buckles and straps, hands brushing, glances that lasted just a little longer than necessary and smiles that were slow and warm. After so much death, darkness and sorrow, it was like the dawn rising after a long and terrible night. Hope and happiness lifted her heart, and she began to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for them, a path that might not lead into sorrow. A path that had been born in his smile, within the devilish gleam of his eyes and in the miracle of his life, which, against all odds, had been spared.
"I've no doubt," he said at a deep murmur and it was full of meaning. His hand brushed hers, trailing fire through the chill, and her fingers reached and met his in turn.
"Will Thranduil let us pass?" Bofur asked behind them as the first glittering flakes of snow began to fall. Kíli jumped a little, as though he'd forgotten they were not alone, and his hand withdrew.
Tauriel flushed and shook her head, clearing her thoughts. Stepping forward and into the shade beneath the first reaching branches, she considered their options. Her King had certainly not been happy with her upon their departure, but had she been truly banished or merely placed elsewhere, a Captain turned Ambassador? Was she welcome amongst her own people? She couldn't be sure, perhaps she was more of a liability to the dwarves than she had previously considered.
She sighed, "There is a guard post nearby, I will speak with the scouts stationed there. Perhaps it is best we inform King Thranduil of our intentions."
Dwalin grunted and glowered at her, "Hang asking your King for permission-"
"You'd prefer to be shot on sight then?" she snapped. Dwarves were easily the most stubborn creatures in all of Arda, though she supposed, considering recent events, that Elves were little better.
Dwalin bristled but Kíli waved him down, standing between him and Tauriel. "You should not go alone," he said seriously. She could tell he did not relish the thought of informing her kin about their intentions but he, at least, was willing to see reason.
"It would be better if I spoke to them on my own… I-I'm not sure what the King has said about my departure and I can't be sure how I will be received." Her gut tightened as she truly began to understand the magnitude of what she may have lost. She had longed to see the world outside her home, but she had not considered that it might come at the cost of her entire world and all her people.
Kíli's eyes narrowed. "All the more reason for you not to go alone."
Tauriel sighed and shook her head. "Better one out of favor She-Elf than six cranky dwarves."
Bofur put his hands on his hips. "Cranky?"
Young Thorin scuffed his boot angrily across the frozen grass. "We should just go around the foul place, stick to the base of the mountains." It was the first thing he'd said all day.
Tauriel shook her head again. "The mountain paths are still dangerous and likely snow covered. The forest will provide cover and shelter-"
"And giant spiders," Dwalin interjected.
"And prissy elves with dungeons," Orí supplied.
"And let's not forget the magical water you can't touch or drink-" Bombur added.
"And if we follow the river we can continue to trace its path to the Greylin," Tauriel finished with a huff, ignoring them all entirely.
Kíli frowned and rubbed a hand over his face before turning, hands on his hips, to scowl into the woods. His kinsmen waited in expectant silence, another subtle and profound shift. Opinionated the dwarves might be, but they had already begun to give their young uncrowned King deference. It said much for their faith in him.
"Alright," Kíli said reluctantly, "Tauriel will speak to the scouts, let them inform the King of our intentions and hopefully he will grant us his blessing. We may have need of his hospitality should things go sour on our journey and well… I made a promise to try and strengthen ties, seems as though this might be a reasonable first step."
All the dwarves' eyes flicked her direction, their expressions ranging from vaguely accusatory (Dwalin) to outright disdain (Young Thorin).
Tauriel cleared her throat and nodded, feeling oddly sheepish. "I will not be long. And should the worst happen and King Thranduil refuses us passage, I know more ways than one to pass unseen."
Gloin grumbled and promptly sat with his back to a tree, glowering through the steadily falling snowflakes as Bombur sat beside him, munching good naturedly on a large sausage. Tauriel sighed, steeling herself for a moment, and then stepped within the confines of the forest. Kíli caught her quickly by the arm, his eyes penetrating and colored by supreme reluctance. "You've got three hours, then I'm coming in after you." His voice allowed no room for discussion.
She couldn't stop the smile that tugged at her lips as some of her unease melted away, "Understood, my lord." Her tone was teasing and she briefly covered his hand with hers.
He gave her a fleeting smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes and released her. "Three hours," he warned and Tauriel nodded, then turned and leapt over root and bramble with ease, listening to the telling song of the birds and the rustle of wild life. Looking back she could just see his silhouette, dark and inviting against the snowy backdrop, watching her. It gave her courage, he gave her courage, and with a deep breath she leapt into the trees, intent on her purpose.
Tauriel found the guard tower easily enough and, once she'd identified herself, she was welcomed with open arms and honest excitement. 'Relocated' she may have been, but the men and women of the guard were still hers.
She'd trained most of them herself and many had become more like family than subordinates. And, as luck would have it, Lieutenant Curial was one of those on duty; they'd undergone their training together and had always been close. It was hard not to be under the severe tutelage of the former Guard Captain –who'd thought it perfectly reasonable to have them leaping through trees for days at a time with no rest and little food. Trial and suffering had brought them together, but mutual respect and compassion had kept them that way. Tauriel had believed Curial deserved the Captaincy, had told her King so when he'd offered it to her instead, but Thranduil had taken her words as mere obligatory humility. She'd meant it and she'd long believed she had been the wrong choice, that her King had favored her above her skills.
"It is wonderful to see you, Captain," he said as they greeted one another, gripping forearms and touching their heads lightly together. He was a tall, graceful Elf, his beauty marred somewhat by a large scar near his left eye that trailed across his sharp cheek bones and along his jaw. He'd acquired it during an Orc ambush and she'd told him it made him look more dashing and dangerous, and it did, but it also made him appear crueler than he was, harder and less approachable. He was, in truth, one of the kindest elves she had ever known. Behind him was Delveon and Gathelia, two of the youngest guards among them but highly skilled and very capable. Gathelia had the makings of a Lieutenant, with a steely determination that had become increasingly hard to find among their people. They both bowed to her, lending their wordless support.
"I am Captain no more, Curial," she said kindly and found that it panged her a little to say it. She'd worked long and hard to achieve her position and she was the youngest elf in memory to obtain it, but it had been just another cage, another means of keeping the rest of the world at bay.
Curial's eyes were sincere as he thumped a fist against his breast. "You will always be my Captain, my lady."
She flushed with warmth. "I would rather be your friend, Curial."
He grinned slightly, eyes softening. "Always a friend, Tauriel."
"I've come to seek permission for safe passage," she said, turning back the folds of her cloak and shifting her bow more comfortably on her back. It was much warmer beneath the trees, the breath of winter faint, like a lingering whisper. The scout tower was old, its origins reaching back into the first settling of the Greenwood, but well kept beneath the heavy branches. Though little more than a stone platform, it offered supplies and a useful vantage for their purposes. Once their kingdom had stretched to the very edge of the forest in all directions, through every glade and across every brook, but this tower was one of very few they continued to hold so far into the wood. Every decade their kingdom shrank more and more.
Curial frowned in confusion, "You need not ask permission, my lady, surely you know that."
Tauriel hesitated, ducking her head. "I am… unsure what the King may have said of my departure."
"Little I fear, only that you've been assigned to serve among the Dwarves for a time. A show of good will." His tone was vaguely disapproving and his eyes searched hers curiously.
Some of the tension leaked out of her. Whether she'd been banished or not, at least such knowledge had not been made public. "Who has been made Captain in my absence?"
Expecting it would have in fact been Curial himself who'd been promoted, she was shocked when he said, "Lieutenant Welethen has been given that honor."
"What?" She demanded, "Why? Half the men hate him and the other think him merely a waste of space and armor."
Curial shrugged but a flash of something, anger perhaps but not at her, crossed his disfigured face. "It is not my position to question the commands of the King," he said and then, after a moment's hesitation, added, "There are some who believe he was promoted because… well, it is no secret that you do not like him overly much, my lady."
"Ah," she said blandly as understanding dawned. Her King was no fool, he knew that many of the Guard would remain loyal to her, and he had shown how little he trusted her by ensuring one she doubted took her place.
Her heart ached in her breast. Once, she had thought Thranduil as a father, a protector, her King and Lord, but as the years had waned the bitterness and distrust in his heart had grown and festered. What now did she mean to him, if anything at all?
"Is it passage for only yourself you are asking, my lady?" Curial pressed.
"No, I-" she looked to Delveon and Gathelia who were listening intently. "Perhaps we could speak alone?"
Curial nodded, "Of course. Scouts, survey the perimeter and then provide me with a full report."
Delveon looked mildly mutinous but they both departed with quick bows before leaping gracefully into the trees. She waited until the faint patter of their feet faded before speaking again. "I travel with a company of six dwarves intent on retrieving their kinsmen from the Blue Mountains."
Curial's eyebrows shot up and Tauriel added, after a moment's hesitation, "One of the dwarves is also the uncrowned King Under the Mountain." She lifted her shoulders and gave him a small, faintly apologetic smile.
"Well," he said, clearing his throat, "I see now why you sought to gain our permission. The King, as I'm sure you know, is not overly fond of Dwarves and even less so after the battle at the gates of Erebor."
Tauriel grimaced a little as Curial paced to the edge of the platform. "Tell me, Tauriel, do you believe in these Dwarves? That they can be trusted?"
"Yes," she said empathetically and without hesitation. "Yes, I do. They are stubborn and obstinate but they are also kind, loyal and brave."
He turned toward her with mild astonishment. "You've grown fond of them, haven't you?"
"I-I" She stuttered and then flushed as the memory of firm, warm lips and the bristle of coarse facial hair against her skin came unbidden to her mind. "I uh, yes, yes you might say that. But I wish only to ease the tensions between our peoples." Which was not precisely a lie, but it was also certainly not the entire truth.
Curial sighed deeply, "I should report your passage to the Captain." Tauriel bit back a groan. "But…" he said with a slight smile, "perhaps the message can be delayed by a few days, long enough to put you at the borders of our lands."
Tauriel let out a sigh of relief and took his hand in hers. "Thank you Curial my friend, you have my deepest gratitude."
He flushed a little but gripped her hand in turn, "I cannot say that I understand this Tauriel, nor the King's command that you stay in Erebor, but you've long had the best interests of our people at heart and I will trust you here now if you say it is still so."
"It is my friend, it is." And it was, it always would be. Her people were fading from Middle-Earth, their power waning like the tides against the moon, but they were not yet gone. There was time still, to fight back against the darkness, even if that darkness slept closer to home and turned its back on the suffering of the world.
Curial nodded then dipped his head to her. "You should go and quickly. Take the hidden paths, though I cannot vouch for their safety. The forest remains dark yet, but patrols watch the river roads and I fear they may stop you. I would tell you to walk the mountain trails but stray bands of Orcs still wander there and large storms are brewing in the north."
"As you say, we will travel swiftly I swear it." She made to depart, keen on returning before Kíli could come barreling in after her. She had no doubt he'd meant what he said and she'd little time left to return.
"Tauriel," Curial called after her and she turned to peer up at him, his face shadowed by his hair and the perpetual twilight of the wood. "I know not the will nor heart of our King, but you've friends here still, if you have need of me –of us- we will do what we can."
Tauriel's heart clenched and she bowed in her turn. "Thank you, Curial, your friendship has always meant much to me."
"May the Valar watch over you, Captain."
"And you, Lieutenant."
Tauriel burst through the trees almost precisely three hours from when she'd left and Kíli, who'd been leaning broodily beneath a twisted oak, snapped to attention. His face was etched with relief and he rushed toward her. Despite Dwarves' natural resistance to extreme temperatures, he seemed frozen through.
"Thank Mahal," Dwalin said, shivering beneath a heavy cloak. "Lad was about to go running after you, was contemplating tying him to the damn tree."
Kíli glared but Tauriel spoke before he could muster up a retort, "We must hurry, I can lead us down secret paths but we've little time."
"Does that mean your King has withheld his gracious blessings?" Gloin asked grouchily, his beard and cloak snow covered. A true storm was stirring, promising bitter and heavy snowfall by true dark.
"I spoke with one of my Lieutenants and we agreed that it was better we move unseen. An elf who has little love for me has taken over the Captaincy. We've likely more to fear of his interference than the King's."
"We should take the mountain paths!" Young Thorin cried, throwing up his hands in exasperation.
Orí looked upward to the threatening clouds then toward the already snow covered mountains with a disbelieving look, bouncing from foot to foot as he tried to keep warm.
Dwalin sighed and then surprised her by saying, "Nay lad, with this storm and whatever Orc filth managed to escape back to their holes, the forest is likely our best bet."
"And you're sure we can trust her," Young Thorin spat, "How do we know she won't turn us over to her true King once we're caught in her net."
"We've been over this cousin and I've half a mind to bind and gag you for the remainder of our trip. I trust Tauriel, she will not lead us astray."
The young dwarf met Kíli's harsh gaze and something about his expression made her blood run cold, as though he were asking if Kili were in fact trust worthy. Perhaps Lord Dain was not so gracious as he'd begun to appear, perhaps there were plans in motion to displace the headstrong young king. Tauriel should have seen it earlier; instead she'd assumed the dwarf's ire was directed merely at her. She narrowed her eyes at Young Thorin. She would be keeping a much closer eye on him.
"We'll have to leave the horses, they cannot travel where we are going," she told Kíli and he nodded grimly.
"Gather your things everyone," he shouted over the growing wind which tossed snowflakes into her face and caught at her eyes and lips. "Take only what we need and send the ponies on their way. They know the way home."
"You can't be serious-" Young Thorin began before Bofur innocently knocked into him while unloading his gear and sent the younger dwarf flying into the snow.
"My apologies!" Bofur cried with mock surprise.
Young Thorin came up red faced and sputtering and Tauriel bit her lip to keep from laughing outright. Gloin took no such efforts and slapped at his belly in supreme amusement. Bombur began stuffing his trousers with bread and wrapped cheeses while Dwalin carefully stowed at least a dozen different knives and daggers about his person. Dwarves, she thought and shook her head.
Kíli for his part was staring into his pack as though it held all the secrets of Arda as he tried to arrange his gear in a more productive manner. He was clearly growing frustrated at his lack of progress
"Here," she said, bending forward and reaching into his pack to arrange one of his tunics, "Fold them like this, they take up less room."
He grunted, clearly embarrassed by his predicament but dutifully copied her movements. "Well I'll be," he said when he was done and rocked back on his heels, "That makes quite the difference."
Tauriel grinned, "I spent years mastering the little appreciated skill of packing a well-organized satchel."
He chuckled, "I bow to your expertise my lady, any other useful tips you wish to bestow?"
"Hum," she murmured, tapping at her chin and peering into his pack, "Well, you could likely stow these in your belt and attach these two here to the outside leaving room for your spare cloak."
He did as she instructed and then looked to her with a smile the likes of which she hadn't seen since the simple night they'd shared in the dungeons of Mirkwood, which now seemed a lifetime ago. Crouched together they were nearly eye level, and with the snow falling in earnest and all sounds dulled and vision obscured to a hazy dream, it felt as though they were caught in a world all their own. He reached out with a gloved hand and displaced a snowflake from a strand of her hair, the tips of his fingers grazing her cheek. Flakes caught in his lashes, which were surprisingly long, and she had the sudden urge to kiss them away, to follow a path from each eyelid over the bridge of his nose to his chapped lips. To warm his cheeks with her hands and his mouth with her lips until they'd both forgotten the cold, the snow, and everything else. Anything to keep that smile, pure and sweet, on his face just a little while longer.
"We should hurry," she said, not moving.
"Yes, we should," he agreed and took her bare, cold fingers between his and pressed his lips to them, beard rough against her skin. Tauriel felt a shiver creep up her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
He helped her to her feet, his hand keeping hers for a moment longer, fingers squeezing, before he released them.
"Alright there Dwalin?" he called as the wind began to howl, his figure indistinct in the frozen blanket that crested over them all. She felt for the ponies as they turned them loose, but they were hardy stock and had seen many harsh winters.
"Aye! Let's get out of this misery!"
"This way!" she shouted after gathering her own gear, and led them quickly into the trees. Her hand was still oddly warm where Kíli's lips had touched her and she found she was barely chilled at all.
"This seems ominous," Gloin commented dryly as they stood at the brink of a dark passageway that led down. The forest was quiet here, old and dangerous, but Tauriel knew this part of the wood like the back of her hand. She'd played here as a child, exploring the ancient ruins and chasing her friends among the ghosts of the past. Few came here now; few ever left their shrinking city.
"I wasn't aware dwarves feared caves Master Gloin," Tauriel teased and the dwarf glowered at her as Bofur laughed.
Night was creeping closer and soon the forest would be pitch black. They needed to make camp before vision was completely lost and she knew just the place. The caves had been cleverly designed long ago for swift, secret travel, with air vents that led campfire smoke far and away from their actual locations.
"Come on Gloin," Bofur said, "I'll hold yer hand."
Gloin shoved at his younger compatriot before manfully stomping down the steps. Tauriel rolled her eyes and swiftly made a torch from a gathered branch and bits of cloth from her pack, Ori helped her light it and they hurried after their companion. Gloin had stopped in the dark, apparently realizing only belatedly that he could not proceed blindly, and looked relieved when they came upon him.
"What is this place?" Kíli asked, lighting another torch from hers.
"In the common tongue I suppose they would be called the 'Deep Roads,'" she said quietly, though her voice still carried. "Old, secret passages beneath the forest, created long ago before anyone, elf or otherwise, lived beneath the trees. They are used rarely now and are not always safe."
"Great," Bofur grumbled and removed his hat to shake the dirt from it. He jumped and scowled as feathered root branches swept at his mated hair. "So long as it's not giant spiders I think we can manage."
"There are worse things in these woods than giant spiders Master Dwarf," Tauriel said, thinking of strange dark shadows that moved quickly and against the light. Giant spiders might have been the more pressing of her people's concerns, but darker, more powerful forces lingered in the deepest parts of the forest.
"What a lovely thing to say when we're surrounded by darkness on all sides," Young Thorin commented dryly and Bofur snorted.
"There are markings here, strange ones, the like of which I've never seen," Kíli said curiously, standing close to her side and peering at the curved walls. The passages were perfect cylinders and completely smooth, a wonder to behold but eerie in their mystery and flawlessness.
"There are none living who can," she said, "But they help to mark one's passage." She stepped to Kíli's side and read the runes there. There were near a set of small caves that would serve as a good place to rest for the night, well hidden and with enough room to be warm and comfortable.
"Quickly, there is a place nearby," she said and led them on, ducking to avoid hanging roots and spider's webs of the fortunately normal sized variety.
"I did not think elves enjoyed being under ground," Bombur said after a quiet spell, his voice carrying away and then back again.
Tauriel pulled a face as a damp bit of earth caught the side of her face and she slapped it away with a slight noise of disgust. "We do not, but these paths have proven useful in the past. They are dangerous if one does not know the proper trails, but fortunately something about them keeps most foul things at bay."
"We hope," Kili muttered and nudged her good naturedly with his shoulder. She gave him a smile in turn, catching the playful look in his eyes and the smirk tugging up one corner of his mouth. It was easy to see that away from the Erebor and all it held –and didn't hold- he was different, more himself, carefree and happier. He was running, she realized, running from the fate that awaited him, but then… wasn't she? Weren't they all? She was running from the ramifications of their actions, she knew that much, but she couldn't help herself. It was too late for her to turn back now, perhaps it always had been. The world outside had caught her up and there was little now she could do to break free.
They walked on for another hour or so, talking little as the pressure of close, slick walls weighed down on them. The Deep Roads were unpleasant for many reasons, but the sheer feeling of oldness was the worst. As though ages may have passed outside between one breath and another, time shifting strangely in the dank air until all sense of it was lost.
She eventually turned them down a side tunnel and into a series of small caverns where they all breathed a sigh of relief. Tauriel groaned and stretched her back.
Orí smirked at her as he shrugged off his pack. "See, being short has its advantages," he said and she kicked a rock at him.
Young Thorin was tasked with getting a fire together, gathering bits of dried leaves and the firewood Bombur had been wise enough to bring –though she suspected the dwarf was often wise when his belly was on the line. Soon a cheery collection of flames was burning and the company unrolled their mats and settled in for the night.
After their humble meal, Tauriel took the watch. She took it as often as they'd let her, and tonight none of the dwarves countered her offer, wary as they were in the strange caverns. She thought it silly they protested at all, but she suspected their thrice damned dwarven stubbornness was likely at fault. They required rest, she did not, it only made sense.
Tonight however, the long loneliness of the night above seeped through the earth and touched her heart. Night, under the careful watch of the stars, had been a time of music and conversation for her people. Now it was a time for too much reflection.
Glancing over her shoulder, she watched Kíli's face in the firelight as Bombur snored raucously and Dwalin grumbled in his sleep. Valar, he was so young. So very, very young, the cares of the day washed away in the lull of sleep. He reminded her of innocence lost, of faith and honor, of what she may have been like had her parents not been brutally murdered. He'd said that in her he saw the hope for a new future, but it was in him the future resided. Few elves considered the great gift that mortality provided, too lost in the long years of their lives. Humans and dwarves appreciated each day for what it was –a precious commodity that could be taken from them at any moment. It gave their lives meaning, purpose, and it wasn't till she'd met a young idealistic dwarf that she'd realized she'd long lost hers. Whatever happened between them, whatever fate would decide, for that she would always be grateful.
He came to her hours later, when the fire had burned low and the night had fallen above them, just as she'd known he would. She sat in the long hall of the outer tunnel with her bow at her side, peering into the darkness with sightless eyes, her mind far away until she'd heard him stirring.
"You should be resting," Tauriel said as he settled in beside her. Sitting, their height difference was nearly diminished, the length of his torso compensating for the shortness of his legs.
Without a word he reached out and took her hand, threading his fingers through hers as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "What do you think about as we all sleep?"
She sighed and leaned her head back against the cold stone wall, enjoying the press of his warm hand as it grounded her to the here and now. "I often let my mind and spirit wander-"
"To pace among the stars?" he asked, teasing her a little as his thumb brushed over her knuckles.
She smiled softly, "Sometimes, but here it is harder. Tonight I think of little but what tomorrow might bring."
He hummed low in the back of his throat, "Oh? And what does tomorrow hold, do you think?"
"Well, where you're concerned I'm sure danger will be involved. It certainly seems to follow after you."
He chuckled, the deep laugh that he seemed to reserve just for her and it made her skin tingle. "It's lucky I have you about to watch over me then."
"Yes," she said, though her smile faded. "Though it was a close call there before the gates. I-I" she stumbled over her words, emotion clogging her throat as she squeezed his hand in hers, "I am sorry I could not save Fí-"
"Hush now," he said softly but firmly and his free hand reached out to tilt her chin toward his, his eyes shining and so warm in the darkness that she forgot her worries and discomfort.
"Do not blame yourself, you told me once not to carry the weight of the dead, I would not have you carry it in my stead. My brother died protecting our Uncle and King, as I would have done had Mahal not brought you to me."
She flushed a little and covered his hand with hers. On an impulse she turned her face to place a gentle kiss on his calloused palm. He drew in a quick breath and brushed his thumb across her lip as his fingers dipped into her hair.
"I do not know what manner of fate brought you to me, amrâlimê, but I will never forsake it, or you." His voice was full of promise and even as it brought bright joy to her heart it also weighed deep in her belly. Their lives were not their own, she knew that, but under his touch it hardly seemed to matter.
"What does that word mean?" she asked huskily as his forehead came to rest against hers, his dark gaze flickering between her eyes and mouth and he licked his lips even as a smile tugged at them.
"I think you know," he murmured as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and tilted his head with purpose toward hers. He smelt of fire and leather and something sweet and pure that made her mouth water.
"Perhaps I do," she whispered the moment before their lips met, forging a secret promise between them in the dark and forgotten places of the world.
The kiss began much like the first, gentle and hesitant, but a growing hunger burned within her that was matched in him. She reached for him as one of his hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer and branding her with his touch as his hair tangled beneath her fingers and his beard scratched at her jaw, creating a perfect counter point to the softness of his lips. They parted for breath, staring briefly into one another's eyes, and then met again. Tauriel thought, dimly as though cloaked in a thick but pleasant fog, that she would not mind spending many more nights like this.
Eventually their paths would lead them back to the great gates of Erebor, to all that awaited them there, but here, now, there was only the two of them and the whisper of their mingling breaths and the gentle slide of their hands as the fire sputtered and then went out.
A/N: I'm getting to the point where I pretty much just want to write them kissing constantly, but honestly I figured they deserved a little... romance before shit started to get 'real' again. You know? Maybe? Eh, well, I hope everyone enjoyed and you all rock!
