A/N: This is going to be last but one chapter. I hope you enjoyed the story which I am finally (after so many years!) about to finish. If you liked it, you may also enjoy another "Hobbit" story called "Leaves on the Wind". I wish you a pleasant reading!

"What are the news?"

"No news as of yet, my lord."

"I have sent scouts to the south... where are they? Call them, I need their report."

"The... the scouts have not come back yet, either, my lord."

The tall man stood up, fright apparent upon his royal features. His fair hair falling down on his shoulders moved when he turned to the side, as if expecting that the scouts would approach him from there. And yet, no-one had entered the palace.

The crown of bare sticks remained unchanged, even though the spring was coming to an end; the summer was about to begin. The air in the Woodland Realm had already become sweet and fragrant from the scent of the flowers. The birds kept chirping in the crowns of the trees that surrounded the palace and the elvenking could hear them every morning, after a sleepless night, as he sat in his throne, waiting for any tidings to come.

But none ever had, no matter how many days and nights he would wait.

"My lord?" The man standing in front of the throne moved nervously, not sure what to expect. His king behaved so strange, but apparently it had stopped surprising anyone. The Mirkwood was no longer the same; the battle had changed everything and everyone, and although the initial fear had already gone and the wounds had been healed, some dark menace kept hanging above them, like a spider waiting for its prey to calm down... and then attacking out of nowhere.

"You may go now." The king waved his hand, the rings glistening in the dim light. A more observant eye would spot that the hand was trembling lightly, although it had never been shaking like that.

It was said that the king was going crazy. The beautiful, once proud king of the elven folk was losing his senses. But who would not? He was not only a king; he was also a father. Although he only had one son, the captain of his forces had always been like his own daughter to him, ever since he had taken her under his protective wings after her parents' death.

Now, he regretted he had let her go by herself. Now, as he thought of it, he had not given her freedom. He had sent her to certain death...

A couple of days after her departure, he had begun to feel uncertain and sent some soldiers to go after her. They had come back later only to tell him that they had found Tauriel's things in one of the caverns in the Misty Mountains. Tauriel, however, had not been found. Neither she nor her body to bury.

Then she was out there... somewhere, but where exactly? This uncertainty was like a poison which kept spreading across his body and mind, leading him straight into the embrace of insanity.

But the news that the traces of orcs had been found close to that cavern had only made everything worse. Had he listened to Tauriel, had he destroyed that home of evil at the beginning, before it had managed to spread, nothing like that would have happened. But right now, it was nothing but what ifs.

And then, a few days later, a message came from Rivendell. Lord Elrond asked about Tauriel's whereabouts for she had not come, even though the way was not so long. It pierced right through Thranduil's heart.

However, he thought, the fact that Tauriel's body could not be found meant that she was probably alive... and that meant that he, as her king and guardian, should do everything in his might to find her. Because she had apparently been captured by those foul creatures. Now it was his choice whether he would let her rot there or not.

Now, looking at the man turning back and leaving, according to the elvenking's words, Thranduil took a deep breath and spoke again.

"Wait."

The man came to a halt and turned towards the king once more immediately. Bowing to him, he raised his brow in surprise.

"My lord?"

"Send two more scouts to make sure the previous ones are nowhere to be found," he commanded and the elf could not help but notice that his king's appearance had changed. It was a good change, though.

The king's back was straight once more, chin tipped up and a sparkle in his eye. Pride returned onto his face and it became obvious that the man was the real elvenking, the king of Lasgalen. This very man could lead the elves just anywhere, to whatever death, if that was their fate.

"Make sure they are the best ones. Tell them to come back as soon as possible with as much information as they can. We need to know everything about the place we are going to," he added quietly, frowning.

The commander smiled softly, but at the same time it was obvious the king could not notice that since the man's eyes were lowered.

"Prepare to move out. Tell all the officers to be ready for my command. We are going to destroy those monsters' lair."

That day the orc did not come back to Tauriel's room, and honestly, she was not sure whether it made her sad or happy. After all, she was not ready to face him, to look him in the eye after all he had confessed to her. On the other hand, she felt lonely again; almost as if she had got used to his presence near. It was a long time since he had last left her for so long and now, this solitude appeared in her heart much sooner than before.

It was difficult to live her life like this: this room was the only place she knew and Bolg's face was the only face she welcomed. Any other, in any situation, always meant danger, either to her or to someone else.

Right now, Tauriel tried not to think of the elven scouts the orcs had captured; maybe they were someone she knew, someone she had been superior to before. Someone she had been responsible for a couple of months before. There was a great probability that she knew their names and faces, after all, the Woodland Realm was not a big kingdom; the elves knew each other, and she, being a captain, had met many of her kin.

And now... now, they were dead. Never would she be able to see their faces again, to talk to them. She had done nothing to rescue them, even though she knew she should have. Nevertheless, she was still not sure whether it would not have made their situation even worse. At least... at least their death was fast, even though she did not believe it could be painless. Not from an orc... May their spirits find peace.

Only a couple of days later did Bolg appear in the room, his broad face hidden in the shadows. Tauriel's eyes had already got used to the darkness in the underground tunnels, but even now, she was not able to notice the expression upon his features.

Having taken a deep breath, she stood up and looked in his direction. When he came closer, she could see that he was not smiling; apparently both of them still carried in their mind the memory of her words; words that had hurt him so much.

"I know now what's wrong with you, little she-elf," he spoke after a moment, to Tauriel's surprise. After such words, she could not be sure whether she was supposed to expect a punishment or something different. Bolg, however, did not seem to make any motion to hurt her; at the same time, though, she realised that he had no intention of touching her. Whether it was out of fear that he would provoke her to say something painful once more, or out of resentment, she was not certain, nevertheless, his face did not betray disdain.

"What... is wrong with me?" she repeated, clearly expecting some king of explanation. The orc, however, had no intention of answering or explaining anything.

After a moment, looking a bit as if he was battling his own thoughts, he reached his hand out to her, but there was some kind of impatience in this motion. Without thinking much, Tauriel accepted this invitation and placed her hand atop his. He yanked her towards the door, grimacing a little. What if she decided to rebel once again? Was it not the perfect moment for her to try to escape? Although he was sure he had put her in her place, there was still some uncertainty in his thoughts.

"You must stay close to me," he hissed, pulling her out of the room. The orcs were obedient when it came to war, but in their private lives they were nothing more but monsters; they would fight for whatever they found necessary or desired, even if it belonged to someone superior to them. And while Bolg was certain that he would be able to defeat them if they decided to fight with him, he did not want to lose his forces; after all, he was their commander.

Tauriel nodded but still was pretty surprised as the orc led her forwards. The corridors were narrow, but she was slim enough to walk by Bolg's side without finding it uncomfortable. Walking up, she glanced back to check how far they had already gone, but he only pulled her by her hand, making her look forward once more.

"You must walk, not turn back," he scolded her, and once again, she could hear the same strange tone in his voice. Was he afraid? Or angry? And what awaited them at the end of their way? "The sooner we get out, the better."

Out? Right now, Tauriel was certain she had not misheard his words.

"We are getting out?" she asked quietly, glancing at him, marching by her side. His breath was loud and laboured as always, his steps just as heavy. Only the way he spoke to her betrayed how nervous he actually was. Right now, Tauriel realised she had never seen him actually nervous. Maybe back then, when he got her out of the grasp of the other orcs, though she could not be sure whether it had been nervousness or some other emotion.

Even though she kept looking at him after she had asked that question, he did not answer; and she would swear that he intentionally looked away from her so she would not be able to see the expression upon his face. Frowning a little, she decided not to try to ask about anything else as it seemed to make no sense.

Nevertheless, after a couple of minutes, she realised that they really were closer to the surface, leaving the dark forges beneath. The air there was fresh and as if thinner. Tauriel smiled and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath; her lungs were now filled with a familiar scent she had been longing for so long.

"Your kin... they need it," said Bolg at last. "If the whelp is to be born healthy and strong... you need it."

Whether he did it for his child only or for her too, Tauriel could not be sure, however, she could not help but feel somewhat thankful for that. It was so long since she had last breathed in fresh air; until now, she had been afraid that she had forgotten its sweet scent, but it turned out to be untrue.

It was late spring, maybe even summer; even after those weeks spent down there she was able to recognise that.

After a moment, she could not only feel the smell of fresh air; a tiny gust brushed softly against her skin, until now so unpleasantly hot. It felt like a sweet touch of a lover, and never until now had anything been this pleasant. Even though her life had already experienced her in the matters of pleasure.

"You may only go this far when I'm with you, she-elf," he instructed her. "Never by yourself. And if you ever use my kindness against me... if you try to rebel and run away..." When he looked at her, she shivered, realising that the spark she could see in his eyes was the same dangerous omen she had seen before, at the beginning of their peculiar acquaintance. "I will find you and make sure you regret that."

There was no reason for Tauriel not to believe him. Without a second thought, she gave him a small nod, though she would rather not be so obedient. Freedom called her, and oh, was she tempted to answer to that call...

It was not in her nature to live in the dark rooms of the underground forge; she needed this. Fresh air, stars above her head... freedom.

"Let me at least step out so my feet can touch the grass," she asked quietly, turning her head to look at the man by her side; she knew that he had already done a lot for her and this request could ruin it all. Nevertheless, this desire was much stronger than anything else she had ever felt and those words escaped her without her even noticing that.

The expression upon his face changed again, and she would swear that an angry light appeared in his mismatched eyes. However, he did not roar at her, like whenever he was furious with her.

"Be fast," he replied, his voice sounding more like a snarl of a wild beast than a real sentence. Until now, never had she noticed how much his kin disliked the world of nature, but in fact, she could not be surprised. The nature hated them just as much.

Having promised him that she would be back in a moment, she took the last several steps and finally left the forge, finally able to breathe in the night air and feel the soft touch of grass on her feet and the gust of wind against her cheeks. The stars were easily visible between the branches of the trees that surrounded her; she was pleasantly surprised that the orcs had not burnt or cut the forest. After a moment of thought, though, she understood that it was the only thing that could shield them from the prying eyes of the elves.

Everything around seemed to be unreal, and yet, so strangely familiar, as if she had never left the woods. It was difficult to think that her home was not far from there; it would only take her a couple of days to reach the gates of the Woodland Realm...

Her heart began beating faster. Yes, she had given him her word, but she longed to be back so much... if there only was a way...

"Get back, she-elf," grumbled Bolg, reminding her of his presence, and she shivered softly, glad that he was not able to see through her thoughts. If he could, she would probably soon regret them. "It is not safe up here."

It was not safe for him, but for her, it was like escaping right into the caring embrace of her mother. Nothing could hurt her in this forest; maybe the spiders, but she had learnt to fight them, and even without her weapon, she was fast and deft enough to avoid them. It was so difficult now to fulfill the promise... Now, as she had finally experienced all she had longed for, she could not give it all away so easily.

On the other hand, the words she had heard before still echoed in her mind. If she tried to get away from him, he would make sure she regretted her choice.

Right now, though, she could only regret the choice to turn back to go back to the orc and the world she did not belong to. As soon as she took one last breath of the night air, she looked around, as if saying a silent goodbye, and stepped towards the orc, awaiting her impatiently.

That was when the swish of a flying arrow cut the air between them.