Author's note: A speedy update - haven't had one of those in a while! It's a thank you for the many lovely reviews that I received and also a bit of therapy for myself after seeing BOTFA...

As some of you have probably guessed, Kíli and Tauriel will once again be spending a little time away from each other in my story. I promise though that I have some interesting stuff planned on each side, so bear with me :)

Dislcaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or any of its characters.

Chapter IX

Tauriel was seething. Captured by an insultingly small number of not overly capable orcs – this was a wound to her pride she was not sure she would recover from easily. The very principle that she had been taught during Thranduil's rearing of her as one of his most lethal soldiers had, once again, been proven true when she had fallen to her knees under the weight of the reeking orc on her back, making it easy for the others to approach her and overwhelm her. Love was weakness.

The moment that she had heard Kíli scream out in pain she had let her guard down, had become distracted. Which was why a soldier did not love – a soldier cared, a soldier was loyal and brave, but never fell in love. Tauriel sighed inwardly. She did not blame herself though, nor Kíli for what had happened. She was not the same elf anymore that Thranduil had brought up and that Legolas had trained. And while she acknowledged that her love for Kíli had once again been her downfall, she would never let herself be convinced that her love was not also a source of strength, one that would keep her going, would make keep her fighting , no matter how bleak her situation.

Feeling her throat constrict with the rush of feelings that these thought brought with them – fear, worry, yearning – Tauriel quickly reached for the raging fury that was still burning in her, knowing that her current plight would be much easier to endure if she did not give herself over to despair. It helped a little that, deep down, she could feel that Kíli was alright. Hurt, possibly, but yet alive. Had she had any doubt of that, in the name of the gods, she knew not if she might not have done something desperate in the meantime. As it was, the connection that they had shared ever since her healing of him at Laketown had, if anything, become intensified during the months they had travelled together. Maybe the cause for this was his child growing inside of her, but Tauriel had felt many times that her connection to Kíli had long since exceeded the natural, the realm of mere intuition, and while they had not shared a dream in a long time, there was a place inside of her where she could feel him, where she could sense his presence and to some extent also his own feelings. Even now, that he was far away from her.

Far away indeed. Tauriel could only estimate the amount of time that had passed since she had been taken, but it had been two whole days at least, possibly more, and during this time her capturers had not stopped and had travelled with as much speed as the additional baggage of a fully grown she-elf allowed them.

Why they had not killed her, Tauriel could only guess. The one that had brought her down, back there at the edge of the woods near the Rangers' camp, had already had his blood stained, curved blade against her throat, but had been stopped by another, taller orc who appeared to be the one in command. He had spat a few words in their own, unmelodic language of which Tauriel had understood but one: Master.

From this exchange and the smaller orc's reluctant withdrawal of his blade, Tauriel had gathered that the pack was under someone's command and that they intended to bring her to them. Before she had had time to process this and to ask herself what that someone could possibly want with her, the orcs had her tied down, gagged and blindfolded and she had felt herself being hoisted up and dragged off. This, she had to admit, they were quite good at. Typical for their race, she thought, cowards on the battlefield, but quite apt at everything that had to do with deviousness and deceit. Such as kidnapping.

A mere year ago, she would not have allowed this to happen, would have resisted such treatment with every ounce of strength in her body, even if that would have meant risking to be killed in the process. But a new sense of self-preservation had made her refrain from putting up too much of a struggle – it simply was too risky. She was outnumbered and while a handful of orcs would normally hardly have posed a challenge, facing them without her weapons seemed unwise. The child growing in her belly was a delicate, fragile thing which she knew she must protect, even if that meant sacrificing her pride.

So Tauriel had forced herself to remain relatively quiet – which had taken all of her self-control – and had told herself that she would wait for a moment where she could strike. And this moment would come, eventually, and then she would have her revenge for being humiliated like this.

The days since, she had spent trying to judge where they were headed by the direction from which she could feel the sun shine upon her skin. It seemed that, after a period of going south, her capturers had turned east. Also, while at first they had travelled down the river on some kind of vessel, they had eventually reverted to journeying on foot. Tauriel's blindfold had yet to be removed, but she was under the distinct impression that the pack had grown in number since they had left and she suspected that those orcs that had escaped the camp of the Dúnedain alive were now rejoining the group. During the nights she had resisted sleep, even though her body was exhausted and longed for the rest she had grown used to, and had instead tried to listen in on the conversations being held around her, hoping to catch something that might help her prepare for where she was being taken. So far, this had been unsuccessful.

On what had to be the third night of her forced journey, the pack stopped and Tauriel was surprised to be put down quite roughly, with her back against the trunk of a tree. Her blindfold was yanked off her head and she blinked in confusion, her eyes unused to the flood of images after her prolonged, artificial blindness.

An orc was crouched before her, eyeing her with disgust. "Bite me and I will bite you back, elvish filth," he growled, before reaching out to remove her gag.

Tauriel pressed her lips together and glared at the orc once the dirty rag that had been stuffed between her lips was finally removed. She swallowed the many curses that were on her tongue, hoping that her silence might spare a renewed gagging later.

The orc, seemingly pleased by what he had to perceive of as obedience by his prisoner, reached out for something on the ground and shoved it into her mouth. "Eat," he hissed, before turning around and sitting down a few yards away, taking out his blade to begin sharpening it.

The bread that had been thrust between Tauriel's lips tasted moldy and for a moment she was afraid that her stomach might turn, offensive tastes and smells recently affecting her more strongly than they used to. Telling herself that she would need to preserve her strength for the day when she would strike back, she forced herself to fight her nausea and slowly chewed the bread, trying not to breathe through her nose while she did so.

When the orc keeping watch over her looked over and saw that she had finished her 'meal,' he came back over and held a canteen of water a couple of inches above her head, forcing her to lean back in order to catch a few sips from the trickle he let pour from it.

Water running down her chin, wetting the front of her tunic, Tauriel glared at the creature towering above her. "Why not just let me starve?" she asked.

The orc cackled. "The master likes them well-nourished and in perfect condition."

Tauriel narrowed her eyes, not liking that she was spoken off as if she were a piece of goods. "Whom do you serve?"

Her question only earned her another malignant chuckle. "You will be introduced soon enough. And now shut up and let me get back to work, nosy scum. Another sound from you and that gag goes back in."

Tauriel stared daggers at the retreating back of her guard, hoping that he would at the very least cut his finger on that ugly blade he was sharpening. Or better, chop off his entire hand.

Leaning back against the tree, Tauriel tried to get comfortable – which was not easy with her hands bound tightly behind her back. Even though the attempt had proved futile several times before, she once more tested her binds, trying to see if she really could not break them. After a few minutes she gave up, not wanting to draw the guard's attention with her constant shuffling and let her gaze swerve over the camp that her capturers were setting up for the night.

She had been right – their numbers had increased. Drastically so. Tauriel counted twenty-three of them in total. No, make that twenty-two, she corrected herself when she watched two of them argue over the carcass of a rabbit, one of them plunging his blade into the other's chest, effectively ending the argument.

Tauriel groaned inwardly and let her head fall back against the tree trunk. How, yes how could she have let herself be overpowered by members of a race that was so utterly dimwitted and lacked any sense of integrity?

Focusing her eyes on the stars in the sky, she spoke to Kíli in her thoughts, thinking that maybe there was a chance that he could hear her or at least feel her there like she could feel him. Do not worry about me, my love, she said, it is only a matter of time before I will return to you. I merely need to be patient and wait for the right moment. Please don't do anything stupid and reckless in the meantime, will you?


Carefully Kíli lifted the fabric which constituted the back wall of his tent and peered into the darkness beyond. All seemed quiet. From what he judged it would only take him a few steps over open ground until he would be able to disappear between trees and rocks, making himself invisible to anyone who might come looking for him.

Lowering the fabric, he turned around and took a moment to assess the things he had assembled and prepared for transport. Thankfully his bow and his sword had been left at his side during his recovery, his hosts probably trusting that he would not be able to use either for yet a while. Those were the two most important items he was going to be carrying, the blanket, spare clothing, and what little food he had managed to hide away during the day completing his gear. He intended to travel quickly and would leave everything behind that might slow him down.

He looked at the small bag next to his bed which contained Tauriel's possessions, his heart heavy when his eyes grazed over the moss-green fabric of her spare outfit. He was almost tempted to bring the bag with him to soothe the yearning pain in his heart that had become a constant companion over the last few days. Mahal, how he missed her, her touch, her scent, her voice. Shaking himself out of his reverie, he told himself that he should not waste time nor energy brooding over his love's worldly possessions and should instead do his utmost to reunite her speedily with her things.

Which was exactly what he planned to do. Casting another glance at the entrance to his tent, he calculated that it would be at least an hour before Théa would be back to check on him. She had brought him his dinner half an hour ago and had sat with him for a while, before heading off to join the rest of the camp for their communal dinner. He hoped that by the time she returned, he would have put enough distance between himself and the camp to ensure that no one would be sent out to bring him back. With several of the men out scouting the lands after the attack, they would surely not risk to further weaken their defense in favor of the safety of one stray dwarf, would they?

Taking one last look around the tent, not entirely able to quench a little sting of guilt at the thought what Théa and Finn would think when they found it empty later that night, Kíli hoisted his gear onto his left shoulder and ducked under the wall of the tent.

Outside, he took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness before sprinting across the stretch of land that divided the camp from the tree line as quietly as possible. He made it to the trees without incident and quickly sought cover, stopping to catch his breath. His head was pounding from the sudden exertion and he pressed his palms to his temples, waiting for the sickening pain to subside. Deep down, he knew that Elrond had been right – he should not be travelling in his state. But what he should do and what he would end up doing had always been two separate things for Kíli and as long as his legs worked – which, thankfully, they did – he would go after Tauriel. He would just have to be careful and try to keep up a steady pace without pushing his battered body too hard.

Taking a couple of slow, deep breaths, Kíli was just about to set out again when he realized with a sinking feeling that he was not alone. Someone was near and they were in all likelihood following him. Holding his breath, he waited until the other presence was very, very close to him, before jumping out behind the tree he had been leaning against, prepared to tackle his pursuer should it turn out to be an enemy.

"Finn!" he exclaimed when he recognized the young boy who jumped in surprise and promptly fell onto his backside.

Looking down at the young Dúnedain in exasperation, Kíli put his hands on his hips. "Finn, what are you doing here?"

The dark haired boy looked up at him with an odd combination of fear and determination written over his face. "I have noticed you acting strangely all day," he said, almost but not quite succeeding in keeping a tremor out of his voice. "I figured out that you were trying to leave us."

Kíli sighed. Stepping forward he held his good arm out to the boy, pulling him up when he took it. "Well, you were right, if that is what you are trying to prove here."

Finn brushed some dirt off his clothes, looking at Kíli with hesitation. "No," he said, "that is not why I followed you. I want to come with you."

Kíli's eyebrows shot up in surprise and for a moment he did not quite know what to say. But then he resolutely shook his head. "No, Finn, that is out of the question. Go back and be with your people, with your mother. It is there that you belong."

He made to turn back around, but Finn reached out and grasped his arm, his right arm. Kíli yelped in pain and Finn immediately let go, his eyes wide. "I'm so sorry! I forgot about your shoulder."

Kíli rubbed his arm, his brow furrowed. "It's fine," he muttered to the boy who was now standing before him, his shoulders drooping. He sighed again, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Look, this is not your battle to fight," he said. "I have no idea where I am going or what awaits me there, but I have no choice. I must go. But I will not risk anybody else by taking them with me, least of all you."

Finn lifted his eyes to Kíli's again, his gaze defiant. "You told me that there would come a time where I could prove the man I was," he said. "This is it. I want to come with you to save the Lady Tauriel."

This time, Kíli did roll his eyes. "Finn, this is not a game where the hero saves the damsel in distress. Neither is it some kind of a lesson. I have no time for this, do you understand?"

Finn nodded, determined. "Aye, I do understand. Which is why we should be on our way instead of standing around, talking."

He made to walk past Kíli who quickly reached out and grasped him by the sleeve of his shirt, yanking him back around. Pulling himself up to his full height, he stared at the boy. "Finn, I am serious. Go back now and let me do what I have to do."

The boy pursed his lips. "No."

They stared at each other for a couple more seconds, Kíli trying to put on his most menacing gaze. The boy flinched a little, but did not back down and returned his stare quite stubbornly. "Unless you drag me back, you won't get rid of me," the boy said. "I will simply continue to follow you."

In many ways, he reminded Kíli of himself standing up to his mother, brother, and uncle on oh so many occasions, trying to make them see that they were being quite overprotective of him, begging them to let him go and make his own experiences and learn from his own mistakes.

Eventually Kíli sighed and backed down. "Fine," he said a little sourly, annoyed that someone else had bested him – him! – at the art of being stubborn. "But if you slow me down, do not think that I will hesitate to leave you behind."

A pleased grin spread across the boy's face and he nodded enthusiastically. "I won't. I promise!"

Adjusting his pack on his shoulder, he took a few steps deeper into the trees, turning around to look at Kíli expectantly. Kíli exhaled a breath of defeat and made to follow the boy. "I cannot believe I am allowing this. Your father will have my head on a spike for it," he grumbled.

Finn grinned. "It is my mother that I would be worried about."

Kíli stopped dead and raised his eyebrows at the boy whose grin faded. "Forget it," he spluttered, quickly turning back around before Kíli could change his mind and drag him back to camp. "This way, I think," he said, setting out downhill.

Kíli cast a last look at the Rangers' camp, its fires glowing in the distance. He hoped to the gods that he was not going to regret his decision to take the boy with him. Not that he had had much of a choice, he thought with a fair amount of exasperation as he turned to follow his newly acquired young traveling companion into the night.


To be continued soon. Thanks for reading, reviewing, following, favoriting!