A/N: Guys, the reviews have been awesome. Seriously. You all are freaking wonderful and I just- I want to just hug each and everyone of you. So, long story short, I lost half this chapter and had to recreate it. It ended up going a slightly different direction but I like it and I hope you do too. Enjoy.

Also! I finally got a beta guys! Finaaaaalllly. So she's already gone through and fixed up the previous chapters as well as this one, so there may be a few minor changes. Shout out to Austin B for being the best ever and for running through all my crazy ideas with me. Someday we will have our team jackets made and we shall be the envy of all the fandom. Another equally important shout out to Irrel who created the cover art for this fic -look at it guys, look at it. It's amazing. You can check her out on Tumblr (username: irrel). Speaking of Tumblr... drop by mine for sneak peeks and drabbles or if you just wanna drop a line (username: chasingperfectiontomorrow).

This chapter is dedicated to all of you who keep the muse (and this ship) alive.

The Heir Apparent

Chapter Ten: Writing on the Wall

And all this too shall pass
This loneliness won't last for long
I wasn't there to take his place
I was ten thousand miles away
So when you hear my voice
When you say my name
May it never give you pain

-Gale Song, The Lumineers

After two days below ground, Tauriel was miserable.

Her back ached from hunching through low tunnel passages, she was filthy from dripping roots and sticky fungus, and she longed for the touch of sunlight and the scent of fresh air. Only Curial's words of warning kept her from escaping via one of several exit tunnels, if simply for a few deep breaths of air that didn't reek of mildew and decay. Even the dwarves, despite their natural inclination to live beneath the earth, seemed ill at ease. Tauriel wondered if the passages had always been so… eerie or if it was another side effect of the shadow which had fallen over the forest.

For their final night below ground, Tauriel led them to the largest chamber she had ever discovered during her childhood explorations. She and Luríena had once spent the night within, terrifying their caretakers with their absence and telling stories of ages past and ancient heroes. The ceiling reached up into blackness and it was wide enough to house plenty of flat, clear ground for their sleeping rolls, with a cheerful underground spring cutting across one end.

Bombur eyed the water skeptically. "And you're sure it's safe to drink?"

Tauriel rolled her eyes and knelt to fill her waterskin, drinking nearly half of it before filling it again. The dwarves warily followed suit, comically distrustful. Cupping the cool water between her hands she splashed her face and, using a bit of cloth, cleaned her cheeks, hands, and neck. Clearing the muck and grime away felt so good she nearly groaned aloud, biting down on her lip and closing her eyes as she swept away layers of dirt. Glancing up a moment later, she caught Kíli watching her, expression hot and dark as he squatted with a forgotten waterskin in hand. Flushing, she ducked her head and swept up a trickle of water that had begun to slip down her chest. She could almost feel the way his eyes followed the path of her hand as it dipped slightly beneath the laces of her tunic and heat pooled low and persistent in her belly.

"Get a fire started Gloin!" Bofur bellowed and Tauriel jumped, the moment ruined. Kíli gave her one last long, heated stare before rising to his feet to help prepare dinner, leaving Tauriel behind to feel strangely anxious and shivery.

Wiping her mouth on her shirt sleeve, she caught sight of Orí across the cavern, holding a torch close to the wall as he studied some of the strange runes, muttering to himself. She approached him curiously.

"Discover anything?" she teased lightly. The dwarf jumped and then laughed nervously as he bent to retrieve his dropped charcoal. He'd been attempting to hold the torch and sketch simultaneously, doing neither task very well.

Tauriel took the torch from him. "Here let me."

Orí flushed and ducked his head back down into his notes as she held the flames near the wall, peering at the markings in turn. As a child she'd traced her fingers over the runes, wondering at their meaning and the people who had carved them, what their purpose might have been, but it had been many long years since she'd given them much thought. They were curious little things, and not merely for their unfamiliarity. They held a slippery, strange quality that made the runes almost appears to slide and glide against the light, like ripples on water.

"They're similar to Khuzdûl, I can make out a few of the meanings," he said, not looking at her as he continued to feverishly draw each collection of lines. "But there is also a notable similarity to an ancient form of elvish, though, to be honest, the two are rather more similar than many dwarves would like to admit."

Tauriel considered this bit of information, marveling slightly at his knowledge and confidence. Clearly Orí was most at home with books and learning, which seemed a strange pastime for a dwarf in her, admittedly limited, experience. "So, do you believe these tunnels may have been made by your people then?"

Orí lifted his head, frowning in thought. "I'm not sure, they are certainly unlike anything I've ever seen, but, well, see this rune here?" he pressed one grubby finger to a mark. "This is very similar to our rune for 'protection,' and this one here," he shifted his hand across the cool stone to another assortment of lines, "this one is similar to an old elvish rune for 'speed.'"

Tauriel blinked at him in surprised. "How do you know all this?"

He shrugged sheepishly. "My mother is a noted scholar and, while Norí and Dorí were off fighting and generally getting into trouble, I stayed behind to learn my letters and read books. There are a number of old tomes our people managed to take with them from Khazad-dûm and Erebor. I can write and read several forms of elvish… though I'm afraid I can't speak them."

"That's rather impressive Master Orí. What brought you along with Thorin and his company if you prefer to be among books?"

Orí's eyes shone suddenly, impassioned. "It is one thing to read of great adventures, my lady, it is another to actually be a part of them. I wanted to see the world, to witness the reclamation of our kingdom-" he cut off, embarrassed, "I'm sorry, I'm rambling on."

She smiled at him. "No, not at all. I can understand such motivations. The desire to see more, to be more."

He returned her smile with a bright one of his own before asking, "How far do these tunnels go?"

"Deep, further than I have ever traveled, but there is a door somewhere, a door with thousands of these runes carved into either side. I've heard tale that sometimes they glow and shift," she said and watched as Orí's eyes widened almost comically.

"I would very much love to see that," the dwarf breathed eagerly.

A wave of affection welled up within her, unbidden and unexpected. "Perhaps we could go to see it together some day," she found herself saying and was surprised that she meant it.

Orí flushed with happiness and, feeling strangely self-conscious, she looked down at the notebook in his hands.

"That is a very lovely drawing," she exclaimed, moving so she could look down over his shoulder. On one side of his notes he'd drawn a particularly strange mushroom they'd run across the day prior in perfect detail.

"O-oh," Orí stuttered, "It's nothing, just something I like to do to pass the time."

"Do you have others?" she asked with sincere interest. He cleared his throat, cheeks red, and obliged her by flipping slowly through several pages.

There was Dwalin leaning over the fire to examine a rabbit on a spit, his signature scowl plastered on his face with an axe slung across his back. Then a quick sketch of Gloín snoozing against a boulder, his fingers threaded over his belly with a butterfly about to land on his nose. A few pages more and Bombur seemed to spring out from the parchment, his mouth open to take a massive bite of stew. On the page next to the portly dwarf was Young Thorin, his hand cupped under his chin as he tried to hide a smile while he poked at a fire. Orí flipped one page more and Kíli was depicted beside the camp fire, arms braced on his knees as he smiled softly at something to one side. Tauriel's heart tripped in her chest; she knew that smile, it was the smile he saved just for her. Another flip of the page and she realized that their relationship was perhaps more obvious than they might have considered. Orí had caught her looking over her shoulder, a sad, longing sort of expression on her face, and it was a visceral testament of how she'd so often felt after meeting a reckless dwarven prince.

It was like a cold water had been poured down her back. She'd been so caught up in Kíli, in how he made her feel, she hadn't properly considered the ramifications of their actions. Or maybe it was more that she'd been attempting to hide from them and suddenly found she no longer could with the truth before her, sketched into life by a precise hand. She looked fearfully at Orí's face, wondering how much he understood, how much he guessed, but he seemed completely unaffected as he flicked to another page.

"And here is the corridor below the throne room. I just liked the way the light from above hit the fallen stones there," he said, a soft smile on his face.

Tauriel took a deep breath and, seeking for some way to change the subject, she asked, "What do those runes there mean?"

Orí glanced to where she'd pointed on the page, the runes in question written carefully beneath the drawing he'd done in Erebor. The dwarf looked suddenly uncomfortable. "Well, they say the year, day and location but… well, we're not really meant to share such knowledge with those who are not of our people." He sounded terribly sorry about it, his eyes full of guilt, but it was just another twist of the slow turning dagger in her heart. Another reminder of how far apart she and Kíli truly were.

"I would tell you anyway but," he whispered, glancing toward the fire where the others were preparing dinner and talking quietly amongst themselves. "Dwalin can be a little temperamental about such things."

Tauriel swallowed against the lump forming in her throat and forced a smile. "And here I thought Master Dwalin was temperamental about all things."

They shared a conspiratorial laugh before turning to join the others. She willed her face into a mask of calm indifference even as her mind fell into tatters. Settling into a seat about the fire, a hearty stew bubbling happily over a cheery fire, Kíli tried to catch her eye but she avoided it, a sick feeling of dread crawling its way up her stomach. It had been easy, far too easy, to forget the gravity of their situation.

Apparently she could not stop herself from loving him, from wanting him, but she could control her behavior. She had to. Their relationship could cost him his already tenuous hold on his throne, and she would not be the lever someone used to unseat him. They needed to be more careful.

Kíli passed her a bowl of stew and she took it from him quickly, retreating to the far side of the fire as the dwarves laughed over a tale that had something to do with Bofur and a goat. She wasn't really listening, the words washing over her unnoticed, lost in her own thoughts as she pushed the food around in her bowl. She needed to pull herself together, to clear her head, to gain control of herself.

Kíli's laughter was a bright ring that echoed through the cavern and she looked up despite herself. He had not laughed often since the day his Uncle and brother had died, and the sound clenched vice-like around her heart. Dwalin laughed in turn, a deep sound that came from his belly as Kíli nudged him playfully, sharing some private joke. He turned a moment later, caught her eye, and sobered instantly. There was anxiety and worry simmering beneath the surface, as though he were reading her thoughts.

Tauriel looked down and did not look up again until the others had finished their meals and readied for sleep. Young Thorin gave her a strangely smug smile, as though her feelings of alienation were somehow his doing. Or maybe he only enjoyed seeing her unhappy. Either way she made a rude gesture behind his back that sent Bofur into a coughing fit and forced a smile on her lips despite herself. She had a sneaking suspicion that the dwarves were rubbing off on her.

She sat close to the fire that night in a calculated effort to deter Kíli from attempting to catch her alone, which he'd done every night since they'd gone below ground. He'd puttered around longer than the others before finally settling into his bedroll petulantly, wishing her a gruff good night, and then turned onto his side, facing away from her. For hours she stared into the flames, unmoving, her mind carefully blank, until she was certain that he was asleep, then she gathered her bow and left the cavern. She paced just down the passageway to another small cave nearby. It was smaller and almost perfectly round. High above another small opening allowed for brief wafts of fresh air, and it was just wide enough that she could see a handful of stars. She just needed a moment alone, a moment to clear her head.

Scrubbing a hand over her face in exasperation, she found she missed Legolas with a sudden and fierce longing. He had been her closest friend, her confidant, the person she had gone to when in need of advice or wisdom. And if ever she had needed his wisdom, she needed it now. He would tell her the truth, no matter how much she did not wish to hear it.

She didn't hear his approach until his boots scuffed across the floor. With a whirl she fell into a defensive crouch, her dagger leveled out in front of her. Kíli held his empty hands before him in a gesture of supplication, a smirk of amusement tugging at one corner of his mouth. Tauriel huffed in exasperation as she rose and sheathed her dagger. Her pulse quickened traitorously at the sight of him and she frowned deeply in response.

"Don't you ever sleep?" she asked brusquely, embarrassed that he had managed to take her unawares again. It was becoming a rather unfortunate habit and she hated the idea that she was somehow losing her edge. It was entirely his fault, of that much she was sure.

He raised a brow at her, his hair mussed about his face in a manner that was extraordinarily alluring and oddly enduring. She wanted to run her fingers through it. Instead she folded her arms across her chest and tucked her hands resolutely against her sides.

"An interesting question coming from someone who never sleeps," he shot back, strolling toward her casually, as though their meeting was somehow coincidental and not some obvious scheme of his creation. He was either an exceptionally light sleeper or an excellent play actor. She suspected the latter.

"I don't need sleep," she countered, subconsciously moving away from him. His eyes had taken on a strange and predatory quality that was starting to make something in her belly feel like molten honey. "You do, however."

"You've been avoiding me all day," he said, changing the subject entirely and continuing his maddening advance. He'd shed his mail and tunic for bed, wearing nothing but his trousers and loose fitted shirt, the laces slackened at the neck so that she caught appealing glimpsed of the tanned, hardened skin beneath.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," she muttered unconvincingly even to her own ears, trying desperately to retake control of her emotions even as he all but back her into a corner. Shivers of anticipation washed over her in pulsing waves and the heat in her belly became a growing need she only barely understood.

Kíli raised a challenging brow at her. "You wouldn't even look at me over dinner and I could practically taste what you were thinking."

Tauriel glared at him, her sudden flash of irritation momentarily grounding her and allowing her to push past him and into the open air. "Oh? And what was I thinking? Oh wise imperious King," she taunted, frustration and hurt turning into biting sarcasm. But truly it was nothing more than a final, desperate gamble to push him away.

There was a stretch of silence and then a deep sigh. "You were thinking that what's happened- what's happening between us, is a mistake. That there is no future for us and there never can be," he said the words slowly, carefully, and each one tore at her heart.

She closed her eyes and willed the pain away before speaking. "We both know that such things are true Kíli. That what lies between us can never be more than secret meetings in the dark, never meant to see the light of day-"

Kíli took her by the arm, forcing her to turn and look him in the eye. "Tauriel I will have no other but you, this is no mere dalliance or distraction. My feelings are not idle nor will they be lightly cast aside."

"If anyone were to find out about us Kíli, you could lose everything. Your home, your family, your throne-"

"I don't care about the damned throne," he growled viciously, his jaw tightening perceptively in the darkness.

She shook her head and turned toward him fully, taking his shoulders lightly in hand. "You've said that many times and I don't believe you. I've seen you Kíli, I've seen how much your people and kingdom mean to you. You will be a good King, but not if we are discovered. Your people will never accept us-"

Kíli reached up and cupped her face in his hands, his touch firm but gentle as his eyes searched hers. The depth of his affection for her was reflected in his eyes, honest and pure, cutting through her like shards of glass. "I will change all that Tauriel, we both will. Already the men begin to trust you, to like you, you'll win over their hearts as easily as you have mine."

She shrugged out his grasp, wanting desperately to believe him, to slip into the easy warmth of his adoration, but she knew better. The distrust between their people ran too deep and the dwarves held their secrets too closely. She pressed a fist to her mouth, squeezing her eyes closed for a brief moment.

"Tauriel I am not saying that it will be easy, or that it will not take time. But I believe, -no, I know that whatever happens… it will be worth it. Worth us."

"Kíli-" she began to protest, her conviction swaying.

He pulled her to him, grasping her hips so that she felt the burn of his fingers beneath her tunic, and her heart fluttered madly in her breast. "Tell me you do not love me. That you do not want me, and I will end this. I swear I will end this. But… if you feel for me as I feel for you, you have to know that I will not give up. I will never give up."

He was insane, completely unbalanced to think their love, their happiness, was worth the price of his kingdom. But then… so was she.

Feeling like she was no longer in control of herself, she reached out and gave in to her earlier temptation, letting her fingers sweep through his hair. It was soft and slightly tangled, but the feel of it sliding against her skin was nothing short of wonderful. There were a few braids hidden strategically within the mass and she wanted to ask about them, to understand their meaning and purpose. She wanted to understand him and his people and the world he'd grown up in. But mostly she just wanted him, every part of him, every facet and version.

Kíli's breath caught under her ministrations and his eyes fluttered closed briefly before opening once more, lidded and heavy. The heat from earlier that evening was back within the depths of his gaze and it weakened her knees.

"I want this Kíli," she murmured, "I want you. But I fear we will live to regret it."

He smiled, though it wavered with emotion and desire. "Regret you? Never."

The hands on her hips urged her backward until she met cool stone, her breathing already rapid as she blinked down at him. His face was tilted toward hers and she could taste each exhale as his fingers slid up her waist slowly, purposefully, and she bit down on her lip to suppress a whimper.

Her fingers shifted through his hair and down, down, until they trailed across his beard, feeling the bristles against her fingernails and enjoying the coarse contrast. Licking her lips she watched the steady progress of her hands as they progressed further along his throat and brushed against the hard line of his collar bones. The heat of his skin seemed to burn through her, scorching into her veins. He swallowed heavily, throat bobbing, and then leaned forward to place a hot, opened mouth kiss just below her jaw. Tauriel sighed softly in pleasure as the world grew hazy and slow, her head falling back to allow him better access. His lips trailed along her jawline and down, finding her pulse point and nipping her softly with his teeth. This time there was no helping the whimper that escaped from between her lips. His answering growl vibrated through her so that her hands slipped beneath his shirt and clenched against the bare skin of his back.

The warmth in her belly had condensed and shifted, creating a building pressure that demanded release. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. She wanted to be close to him, skin to skin, but felt as though she could never be close enough; even as he pressed tightly against her, overwhelming her with his heat and smell and touch. Beneath his skin she felt muscle and strength ripple and, feeling bold, she drew her nails up his spine and across his shoulders to the top of his chest. He groaned aloud, the noise echoing quietly through the small chamber and his hand fisted in her hair, dragging her mouth to his for a bruising kiss. There was nothing slow or delicate about the way his mouth slanted beneath hers, nothing uncertain about the way his free hand dug into her hip and over her thigh, kneading gently but insistently.

Their lips parted briefly and they were both breathless, pressed tightly against one another with the cave wall hard and cold against her back. She tried to recover some sense of herself, some form of control, but Kíli began to once again kiss a path down her neck, tongue flicking out to taste the hollow of her throat and back up again. She felt feverish and anxious, a damp warmth spreading from between her thighs that both frightened and excited her. Kíli reached for the laces of her tunic, his eyes black and smoldering in the darkness, when suddenly the earth shook violently around them.

They froze against one another, reality crashing over her and leaving her trembling. Neither of them so much as breathed. A moment later the ground quaked again, nearly pitching them both to the floor, and was followed by an inhuman cry of fury.

"Cave troll," Tauriel whispered in disbelief and their eyes met for a moment before they both took off down the passageway, her bow already in hand.

"Hurry!" Dwalin bellowed as their company sprinted down the tunnel, fighting to secure their packs and simultaneously free their weapons. Kíli struggled to pull his mail shirt down over his chest and Tauriel reached out to quickly yank it down and handed him his bow. He gave her a brief smile and slung his quiver across his back.

Another rumbling crash and the ceiling above began to crumble. A knot of terrible fear cinched within her as she briefly considered the prospect of being buried alive. The idea made her skin crawl and her stomach turn.

"How far till the exit?" Bofur cried a moment before the creature roared again, this time louder and closer. It had caught their scent.

Cool calculation took control, years of training and exercise taking over where reason had fled.

"Not far, run straight and veer left at the fork!" she yelled and raced forward even as the ground threatened to be torn out from under her.

The dwarves followed after, the world crumbling around them as they were forced to dodge collapsing portions of the tunnel. Tauriel coughed as dust and falling rock blurred her vision. Swiping at her watering eyes, she could see the fork just head and, beyond, their salvation. Glancing over her shoulder she watched as Orí stumbled and fell a moment before the tunnel wall behind him exploded inward in a shower of stone and mud.

"Orí!" she screamed even as Gloín rushed back to help him, yanking him to his feet.

A thundering roar tore at their ears as the hideous creature stepped through the crude opening it had created. It was huge, too huge to fit within the confines of the tunnel, and it swung its massive fists to clear enough space for its body to crouch through. She and Kíli exchanged a horrified glance.

"Go, hurry! I will hold it off!" she cried, waving her hand down the passageway.

He shook his head violently. "No! We all go together," he bellowed and made a grab for her as Dwalin wrapped a thick arm about his shoulders, forcing him bodily down the hall. Tauriel danced out of Kíli's reach and she knelt with an arrow already nocked. The dwarves rushed past her in a panic, but for Tauriel the world had slowed. She could distantly hear Kíli shouting her name as the troll turned its murderous sights upon her, but there was only her breath and her weapon as she drew the string back to eye level. The creature barreled toward her, collapsing the tunnel behind it and she took one last breath before firing, lodging an arrow in one bulbous eye.

The creature screamed in pain and fury as Tauriel leapt to her feet, narrowly avoiding being crushed by falling debris. She sprinted blindly down the hall, her heart a deafening drum in her ears. Something slammed into her shoulder, pitching her sideways and knocking the wind from her. She managed to gather her feet and powered on even as pain shot through her, drawing strength from her legs. Choking and gasping, she found the fork in the tunnel and stumbled down it, catching the faint scent of fresh air. Relief washed through her—she was nearly there. Suddenly the ground gave way beneath her and she crashed to the floor. Turning on her side, head reeling, she watched as the troll, black blood gushing sluggishly from its wounded eye, bore down on her. Her bow was out of reach and she fumbled for her daggers, fear lancing through her.

An arrow, black tipped and thick, struck the beast in its chest, followed by another in its undamaged eye and yet another in its throat. The creature roared and crashed first to its knees and then to its face with a final, terrible boom. The tunnel began to collapse in earnest and Tauriel felt hope fade as an ultimate darkness crept closer. A moment later strong hands grasped at her, pulling her into broad arms. Dazed, she looked up at Kíli in mild surprise, his jaw clenched in fury and terror. Holding her tightly against his chest, he took off down the collapsing tunnel, the light of day a taunting beacon ahead.

"We're… not going to… make it," she croaked, pain stabbing through her shoulder and making her stomach roll.

"Yes we damn well are," Kíli growled and somehow managed to move even faster as rocks tumbled around them, catching at their skin and clothing like scrapping claws. He bled from a cut near his temple and another by his lip and he flinched as a sharp bit of stone caught him across the back. But he never faltered.

Tauriel was beginning to feel light headed and her shoulder, pressed against Kíli's chest, was slick and warm with what she knew to be blood. A moment before the passage crumbled atop them, Kíli let out a bellowing cry and pitched them forward into the early morning sunlight. Tauriel was thrown from his arms as they rolled across the forest floor, the world spinning madly around her until she came to halt, groaning in the dirt and mulch. There was a final, terrible rumble, and the tunnel entrance collapsed, taking the Cave Troll with it.

Orí's face was the first to swim into view as she rolled weakly on to her back, dust settling like fine smoke as the sun crested over the distant mountains. A few flakes of snow drifted lazily from a patchy gray sky, leaving cold kisses across her heated skin. The young dwarf leaned over her, round cheeks pale and filthy, his eyes wide with fear and shock.

"She's losing a lot of blood," he told Gloín as he too knelt at her side, looking as though he'd aged a hundred years from the white powder and dirt in his hair and beard.

Tauriel swallowed and turned her head to glance down at her left arm. A deep slice cut through leather, cloth, and skin from the top of her shoulder to just past her elbow and patches of the yellow-white bone shone through in places. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face away, dizziness threatening to overcome her completely.

Kíli was at her side in the next moment, taking her uninjured hand in his. Blood was dripping from the wound at his temple but it did not appear to be deep, dirt and grime matted into his hair and across his face. His face went white as he leaned over to examine her wound, and his eyes, when they returned to hers, were round and fearful. Tauriel did not think the injury was life threatening if the bleeding could be stemmed and the area cleaned. She hoped.

"Bombur!" he cried and the large dwarf fumbled forward with Dwalin, Bofur and Young Thorin behind him, each of them looking just as awful as the next. Bombur took in her wounded arm and swallowed heavily, throwing his bag off his shoulder and rifling through it hurriedly.

"Athelas," she croaked, "to ward off infection."

Orí nodded and dashed off with Bofur at his heels –the latter intimately familiar with the common weed after the events in Laketown. Kíli tucked his cloak beneath her head and pressed a waterskin gently to her lips and she drained it after several deep swallows. She tried to give him a comforting smile when she was done but she could feel it wavering on her lips. The left side of her body was starting to feel numb and cold, faintness dancing dangerously at the edges of her consciousness.

"We'll have to clean and stitch it," Bombur muttered to Kíli as he came to her side with a (fairly) clean tunic that he pressed against the worst of the slice to staunch the bleeding. She gritted her teeth and breathed out through her nose.

"It may not be safe here," she told Kíli softly. They were in a small glade in the northwest half of the forest, she knew. A mere day or two from the edge of the trees, but the area was not always a safe one. Few places outside their central city were ever truly safe.

"We have to stop the bleeding, you've lost too much already," Kíli insisted, his eyes indicating that no amount of argument from her would change his mind.

"I'll scout the area," Young Thorin said, taking an axe in hand and sweeping off without a backward glance. But his eyes had lingered curiously on her face a moment before he'd spoken, as though he'd only just seen her for the first time and wasn't at all sure what to think.

Dwalin gasped suddenly and gripped Kíli by the shoulders. "You're wounded!" the bald dwarf cried in horror.

Kíli looked down at his gore coated mail and tunic and swallowed, glancing toward Tauriel. "It's her blood, not mine."

Dwalin's jaw tightened as he released Kíli and turned toward her, a slight crease between his brows. "I ah, that was a brave thing you did back there lass," he said awkwardly, not quite able to meet her eye.

"It was nothing," she said with a pained smile as Gloín got a fire started under Bombur's order. Dwalin grunted, his cheeks coloring blotchily before moving away, muttering something about gathering their supplies.

Kíli gently swept the hair from her face as Bombur checked beneath the bloody cloth, grunting in approval as he pressed it back in place. Apparently the blood flow was slowing and she felt a wave of relief. Kíli's face was slightly pinched and though he tried to mask it, she could tell he was deeply unsettled, his hand shaking slightly in hers.

"I would appreciate it if you wouldn't do something like that again," he remarked dryly.

She chuckled softy. "Which part? The bit where a troll almost crushed me or the part where the tunnel nearly did."

"The part where you stayed behind and risked your life needlessly," he said with sudden seriousness, worry and anger flashing in his eyes.

Tauriel sobered and squeezed his hand in hers. "It wasn't needless, Kíli. We needed time to escape and I provided it."

Kíli grimaced. "You nearly died, if I hadn't turned back-"

"Well," she reasoned, attempting a slightly teasing smile, "it was about time you returned the favor."

Kíli snorted and some of the bluster went out of him, though his shoulders remained tense and his eyes worried. "I'd prefer neither of us needed anymore rescuing."

Tauriel resisted the sudden and pressing desire to kiss him, or at least to cup his cheek in reassurance, and settled for brushing her thumb over the back of his hand, a gesture which he returned. A flash of their earlier encounter, before the troll had nearly brought the world down atop them, burned through her before she could shove it determinedly aside. She could still feel his lips against her skin and her fingers clawing up his back and she swallowed, ducking her head to hide the flush she could feel spreading up her chest and across her cheeks.

Now is not the time for idle reminisces, she chastised herself, mortified that her mind was so easily led astray in spite of her painful circumstances. They had almost died. But still the sensations remained, enhanced by his presence and the lingering traces of fear and adrenaline. She had a powerful urge to continue whatever they had started in the darkness, to confirm for herself that they were both still vitally alive beneath sun and sky.

Orí and Bofur returned a moment later, huffing and puffing but with the white flowered herb in hand. Bombur removed the tunic against her arm and Gloín came to his side with a large bowl of steaming water.

"Mix the herb with some of the water and crush it. After you've c-clean out the wound," she stuttered, aware that the cleaning process was going to be deeply uncomfortable, "place it within and let it sit for a bit before removing it and stitching."

Bombur nodded and he and Orí ripped another tunic into strips, dipping them into the boiling hot water. The big dwarf reached for her arm and gave her an apologetic look. "This is going to hurt."

Kíli settled in besides her, letting her lean against him as he shifted her gently into a sitting position. She turned her face into his neck, breathing in the scent of metal, leather, sweat, blood and an undercurrent that was uniquely him, spicy and earthy. He should not hold her so close, she knew, but pain and blood loss clouded her judgment, and surely his presence could be explained as mere concern for her safety and certainly not particular to just her. Even in her addled mind she knew it was a foolish hope, but she'd recently made a habit of clinging to foolish hopes.

"If I can stand Dwalin's cooking three nights in a row, I can stand this," she said and Bofur roared with laughter while Orí snorted appreciatively. Kíli's chest rumbled with faint amusement and the hand concealed behind her rubbed soothing patterns against her lower back. The mood noticeably lightened, Bombur got to work.

Several hours later, after her wound had been cleaned, stitched, wrapped and secured across her chest, they gathered their packs and gear and began to head north through the tress. Tauriel felt ragged and sore but they needed to find a safe spot to camp for the night. She knew that there was little chance her people had not noticed the collapse of the tunnel and recognized that they would come to investigate. Their wayward company needed to be far away by the time they arrived as she did not trust her King to allow the dwarves unrestricted passage through their lands. Kíli of course had protested, citing her recent injury and loss of blood, but they had little choice and she'd assured him that elves healed quickly, even more so than dwarves. The Athelas had done much to return some of her strength and Bombur had done well, though she knew the scar would likely be a terrible one. But it was just another of many, another hurt to look back on and remember in the long years to come.

Kíli hovered warily at her side, always ready to offer her a hand if she stumbled or needed help over root or rock, it was terribly endearing if not far too revealing. The forest was better here, less oppressive but no less wild, and more like the Greenwood of old. The company was quiet, weary and battered and uneasy beneath the trees. For her part she mourned the loss of her bow, a gift from Legolas, buried with the Cave Troll beneath the earth. She knew it was a silly thing, to mourn the loss of something so inconsequential when they were lucky to have escaped with their lives, but still her heart ached. Her friendship with the Elven Prince grew further and further away from her, breaking a little at a time as she left her old life behind for the terrible unknown.

The sun was just beginning to set when Tauriel finally noticed they were not alone. Had she not been so weak and tired, she likely would have noticed sooner. As it was, she brought their company to a halt with a low hiss.

"Tauriel," Kíli asked with a frown of concern, reaching for her, "What is-"

"Sh," she said harshly, "Quiet, and drop your weapons, now."

Young Thorin grunted, "The elf has clearly lost her mind-"

An arrow thumped inches from the dwarf's head and she groaned aloud. A moment later elves fell from the trees in a bright flash of weapons and armor, surrounding them in seconds. There were eight of them in total, with bows drawn and pointed not at her, but at the dwarves. She recognized all of them and they eyed her with interest and shock, taking in her injury and clearly jumping to conclusions.

"Not this again," Dwalin groaned bitterly as the dwarves raised their hands reluctantly, scowling in fury.

"Well, well," came a familiar voice as the elves shifted aside to let another through, "If it isn't Tauriel, the former Guard Captain." He was short, shorter even than Tauriel, who was considered rather small for their kind, with ebony hair and a pinched face. His utter delight was written plainly across his features and she knew any hope they had of reaching the mountains unhindered had collapsed as surely as the tunnels they'd barely escaped. Kíli shifted angrily beside her and they exchanged a look. He must have read the unease in her eyes because his jaw tightened and she could almost see his calculations for escape racing through his mind behind his gaze. She hoped he came up with something quickly because she had a sense they were not going to slip away easily or without incident.

Tauriel could all but hear her heart thump into her boots. "Lieutenant Welethen, to what do we owe the honor?"

The elf paced to them slowly, casually, as though he were taking a leisurely stroll through the wood. "It's Captain Welethen now," he said and the self-satisfied smirk on his face made her skin crawl.

A/N: So I know Legolas was promised this chapter, but I swear he's in the next one! I sweeeear. Hope you all liked it, see you next week if all goes well (and I don't lose half a chapter again, ugh).