The red-haired elf gazed into the grey water, trying to avoid the eyes of the pale-faced stranger she could see staring back. The eyes and cheeks were hollow and dark, disappearing into the murky depths of the lake, and the mouth was stretched and troubled. If it hadn't been for the rusty halo around the face, she wouldn't have recognised herself.

Is this what Vairë warned me about? Is this mortality? She looked down at her slender, pale hand and saw how it shook slightly, its outline lost against the ripples on the surface. Or have all these troubles just caught up with me?

She sighed heavily, and turned her back on the cold water, returning her view to the Lonely Mountain. There was a restless dread in the pit of her stomach, and the only way to release herself from its clutches was to stay busy, working towards her goals steadily and carefully, lest she catch herself thinking too hard about Kili and where he might be right now.

I need to go and find the others, they must have made their decision by now...

She made for the small group of figures at the edge of the woods, watching them point and gesture to each other as if in disagreement. Legolas and Bard were conferring with Fili and Dwalin about their battle strategy, and Tauriel had decided to let them have their arguments and make their decisions without her aid. She wanted to know their plan – and she would probably follow it too – but she cared little for the discussion. Bilbo had chosen to sit on a rock nearby, seemingly listening to their debate with interest, but she herself was too restless for talk. The time for words was over.

And still they didn't notice her approach, so engrossed were they in their arguing.

"We need to attack now, we might not get another chance!" Bard seemed to be erring to her side of the fence, jabbing at the air in agitation, as if he was willing to face down an entire orc platoon right that moment.

"But Bard, if we attack too early she could hurt our prisoners – we need some time to free Thorin and Kili before you start the attack on the orcs!" Fili was evidently trying and failing to calm the king of Laketown.

"Thorin and Kili? And what of my family, Fili? What about Sigrid?" Bard glared at the blond dwarf, furious, and Tauriel could see the hurt on both of their faces.

She decided to step forward and make her own suggestions.

"Fili, I need to leave – now. I'm heading off for the mountain. And I need you to come with me! What's the delay?"

She saw the blond dwarf spin round to face her, surprise showing on his face. And something else too. He looked just as terrible as she did. He opened his mouth to speak, but it was Legolas that spoke for him.

"My lady, the people of Laketown are being taken back onto the streets of Dale, as prisoners of the orcs." He cleared his throat. "If the stories by which they are known are true, then it can only mean one thing. They will line everyone up in the streets outside Erebor and separate the weak from the strong – the weak to be butchered where they stand while the strong to be taken as slaves."

Bard spoke angrily. "We can't let it happen – we have a large enough force of arms to take them on now– we need to fight them, before my people are massacred!"

Tauriel nodded readily. "The people of Laketown mustn't be harmed – we can free our friends ourselves." She looked at Fili and Dwalin, daring them to disagree. "And the fewer of us heading inside the mountain the better – we need to go unseen."

Dwalin looked to Fili, waiting for his decision. "If you would command it of me, I will remain here and lead Dáin's troops against this foe – and I daresay the rest of our company will join in too once they see what's kicking off." He gave Tauriel a grudging nod. "What the elf says is true – our troops are better off out in the open."

Fili ran a hand through his long, blond braids, concern all over his face. "How long do we have? Since you seem to know so much about orcs, maybe you can tell us that?" He stared darkly at Legolas.

The fair-haired elf just shrugged. "No more than an hour, dwarf. If you want to get your family out of the mountain before the fighting starts, then you must move quickly. I will leave my guards here to deal with those orcs – they will stand by Bard." He sniffed, and turned his gaze onto Tauriel. She saw his mouth relax into a softer smile, as he looked at her in concern. "I will come with you – and help you save your friends."

Tauriel could feel her eyes welling up with tears. She hadn't expected that he would join her – not with this. She smiled at her newfound ally, thanking him in elvish. "I am very grateful, my friend."

Legolas bowed to her, fixing her with a stare. "You will always have a friend in me, my lady."

"And I'm coming into the mountain too." Tauriel looked down in surprise at the hobbit, jumping up to his feet, and meeting the elves' incredulous stares evenly. "I can stay hidden – we hobbits are very good at it. I'm not sitting around here on my own round here while you lot get all the glory."

Tauriel looked at Fili quizzically, but the dwarf was already smiling and nodding. "I was counting on you volunteering, Bilbo – you're the only one except Dwalin who knows the way!"

Dwalin scoffed. "Aye, we need you, lad. The last thing we want is our king-to-be heading off into the dark with a pair of elves!"

Tauriel ignored the comment, and strode right upto Fili. "Let's go. This door isn't going to open itself, is it?"

The dwarf sighed, catching Bilbo's eye with a look of discomfort. "From what I've been told – no. It might take a bit of persuasion."

Tauriel nodded, squinting up at the Lonely Mountain, seeing how the trailing cloud still hid its top from view, as if the summit didn't exist in this self same world anymore. "I hope you're well versed in your dwarven spells, Fili, or we might have to persuade it with violence..."

Kili opened his eyes, fancying he could hear a strange scraping coming from beyond the door of their cell. But the darkness was so total since the lamps had burnt out, he could see nothing to either stoke or allay any of the countless fears swirling around his heart.

He closed his eyes again, trying to find some shelter in sleep to forget about the madness going on all around him.

"Kili, are you awake?"

Automatically, his eyes opened at the sound of his uncle's voice. "Yes, Thorin. I can't sleep. I think I'm too tired for it."

His uncle grunted in agreement. "You'll be able to sleep later, Kili. Our friends will not abandon you – they'll be come for you soon."

Kili felt a shiver run through him. He was sure his uncle was right – and it both cheered him and terrified him. He desperately wanted to believe there was some chance they might escape, but not if it would mean his friends trading places with him. Or those beasts laying a finger on his red-haired elf...

"Do you think Fili's with them, uncle? It can't be true, can it? What they said." Kili could hear how small and thin his voice sounded. As if he was a child again, looking to his busy parents for reassurances that there weren't any monsters under the bed or inside the wardrobe as they put him to sleep at night. Only for him to repeat the questioning once the lights were out on his ever-patient older brother...

He heard Thorin's silent pause, and realised he probably shouldn't have asked.

"I can't believe it, Kili. It's a lie. It's a lie designed to hurt us. If they had Fili, do you not think he would be here right now with us? Why would he have gone out on a boat, in the middle of a storm, with Bard? It's nonsense."

Kili felt a sudden anger. "He went to see Sigrid, Thorin. Bard's daughter. He was going – we were going – to journey to Mirkwood to see if we could negotiate terms with Thranduil. Only I guess your fiancée's attack on Tauriel put an end to my involvement with that!"

There was nothing but silence on the other side of the cell. Cold, stony, silence. But Kili was beyond caring.

"They didn't want to marry those people you assigned them to, Thorin. Fili and Sigrid wanted to marry each other – they love each other! But you never even bothered to ask him how he felt."

Kili could hear the anger building up in his words, and forced himself to stop before he started shouting. This wasn't the time, or the place, to be attacking his uncle. They were all each other had right now.

He leaned back as far as he could, against the neck restraint, and waited for his uncle's anger to engulf him.

"Kili, are you telling me that Fili was in that boat?"

Kili opened his eyes again, uncertain. His uncle's voice was distraught. He'd never heard him like that before. It awakened a whole new level of panic within Kili.

"I... I don't know, Thorin." He didn't know what else to say. "It's possible. That's why it worries me so much."

There was no reply from across the cell, just thick silence. And then Kili heard his uncle sob – his own uncle – as gruff and stern a dwarf as ever he'd known – a king amongst his peers – openly sobbing out loud.

"I'm sure he's okay." Kili whispered. "She's lied to us so many times, why would this be the truth?"

He heard his uncle choking down his emotions, wrestling for control again. "It's all my fault, Kili. All of this. Us being here, what happened to your elf – what has happened to Fili!"

Kili shook his head in the darkness. "It's her fault, Thorin. She did all of those things – you just let her do them because you trusted her. You didn't know."

But his uncle wasn't listening. "I remember when you were both born, Kili. You and your brother." The older dwarf sighed uneasily. "Your brother was such a sunny child – always smiling and happy – but you were the opposite. You got so upset when my sister would leave you alone – you'd make yourself ill with your screaming and bawling..."

Kili heard his uncle shift awkwardly against his restraints on the far wall, and tried hard to picture his uncle babysitting small children.

"But then your brother would come to you – Fili would lie beside you – and you'd be still. You'd be at peace. All the crying would stop." He choked back another sob. "My sister has done a fine job with the pair of you – your father would be so proud to see you today. I've been so proud of the people you've both become, Kili. You're my heirs, but you're my blood too. I cannot let anything bad happen to either of you!"

Kili listened to his uncle, wishing he knew what to say.

"You made a mistake, Thorin, trusting her. That's all. You were too busy mistrusting my elf to even consider that woman would be false."

"I'm sorry, Kili. I'm sorry I doubted your elf. She was not the enemy, and you were right all along." He sighed again. "I've hurt you and your brother, and scorned my good friend Bilbo, all for that woman and her lies. I've been nothing but a fool, and brought pain to the only people who matter to me..."

Kili found himself nodding. "I know you're sorry, Thorin. I'm sorry too, for all of this – but I'll accept your apology. As long as you promise me one thing."

He heard his uncle shift against his restraints. "What is it, Kili?"

Kili sighed. "Think of some way to get us out of this – I don't want either of us to die here, uncle. And if we get do get out of this alive, you can go and tell Tauriel that you're sorry too."

Kili thought about the long, red, hair and green eyes he loved so much, and wanted so badly to see her again. "She's going to be an important part of my life, uncle – I want you to respect that and get on with her. You'll like her, if you give her a chance..."

He heard Thorin nod his head, shaking the metal collar. "I promise, Kili. I know you love her. I will try to love her too."

Kili smiled invisibly in the darkness. "And Fili – you have to apologise to him. And let him be free to marry Bard's daughter if he chooses."

There was a silence for a moment while his uncle considered. "Agreed."

"Good. That's a start." Kili nodded, his fear forgotten for the time being. "So now we have everything settled, uncle, we just need the rest of our plan. How are we going to get out of this? There must be something we can do? Something we can say? Do you have any ideas?"

"Possibly." His uncle growled in the darkness. "You just leave that to me."

As the little band climbed the craggy mountain track, the silence between them deepened even as the air grew colder and thinner. There was no pleasing view up here as they neared the summit: the bare winter landscape stretching on below them was not pleasing to the heart or the mind's eye. They were on the eastern side of the mountain now, facing the bleak and featureless plains through which none of them had ever journeyed – and the jarring desolation of those frontier wastelands reminded each and every one of them of their own voiceless loneliness as they trudged ever higher into the clouds.

Fili wondered just how much further they had to go. Already the tendrils of mist were gliding over the trackway ahead, and soon their view of the mountainside would be completely blocked.

"I think it was around here somewhere – I'm sure of it. If only this blasted fog would clear!" Bilbo stopped and tried to catch his bearings, tilting his head and checking at the flat rocks by the mountainside. "Maybe it was over there..."

Fili watched him trot back round the corner, and halted, raising a hand up to the two elves who followed behind him. The tall, blond elven prince wrinkled his nose.

"Your family built this... city, didn't they?" He gestured around at the wild mountainside. "Why did they not leave you a map with the exits written down?"

The dwarf narrowed his blue-grey eyes immediately. "My people had no time to collect such trappings when the dragon attacked our home." He turned back to watch for the hobbit, hoping that he would return with some good news this time. "One day we will recover all that was lost to us, but that day has not yet come."

He hated the defensive tone in his voice, but he could feel the elf's eyes on him, studying him, checking him, and it was doing nothing for his mood. He almost wished that Legolas had stayed with his guards in Dale, but Fili could see he was a skilled fighter, and he would prove useful once they got inside.

If they got inside.

Fili was concerned about the whole idea. He would have preferred battling the orc hordes upfront in Dale, over all this creeping around – but not when his brother and uncle were being held hostage. The secret doorway was their only way in. And Balin had said it was shut, and only he could open it! He just hoped it was obvious, or they would have to wait for Gandalf's advice after the battle in Dale, and by then it might all be too late...

"It's here, I've found it. Come and see!"

At the sound of Bilbo's excited voice, the three warriors turned and retraced their steps round the mountain, walking upto where the hobbit stood right against the rock-face at a wider, flatter part of the track.

"Look – see the mark on the rock?" Bilbo pointed to a cracked area of the cliff-side, where the moss and lichens had been recently torn away. "That's the door." He gave Fili a cheerful smile. "All we need to do now is open it."

Fili nodded, feeling the three pairs of eyes turn to him expectantly.

"Right," he said, reaching a hand out to touch the cold, clammy rock. "I don't suppose you remember how it opened last time, do you?"

Bilbo stared at the rock for a moment, at a loss. "It was the moonlight. The moonlight opened the door."

"Right." Fili muttered. He tried pushing at the door-shape, with varying degrees of strength, but the rock remained solid. He sighed. "Tauriel, do you have any idea what I should be doing here?"

But the elf shook her head. "I am afraid I know nothing about magic, Fili, save the odd elemental healing." She looked into his eyes sadly. "I am not a noble, I was not taught such things." She shifted her gaze to Legolas. "Can you help, perhaps?"

Legolas studied the blank rock face, and shook his head. "If it was dwarven magic that sealed this, then it surely cannot be very sophisticated. Maybe you should try striking it with your axe." He shrugged at Fili. "Or your head – whichever one is the denser."

The dwarf saw Bilbo rolling his eyes, and took a deep breath. Maybe the suggestion wasn't as stupid as it sounded. He reached for the axe he carried on his back, and held it aloft, watching how the sharpened blade shined lustrously even in the dull daylight.

He'd made it two years ago, before coming on his uncle's quest, and it truly was a thing of beauty. Made of a steel alloy, there was real gold from the Lonely Mountain gone into its smelting – his uncle had given him the metal for his birthday, and Fili had known exactly what he wanted to do with it.

If the elves tied their souls to the trees and rivers, then the dwarves must tie theirs to the rocks and ores – and everything they crafted with their elemental nature. And then his axe undoubtedly was a part of him too, as surely as his own hands were.

And maybe the mountain would recognise it as such?

He held the axe to the sky, and with a silent prayer to Mahal, he thrust it into the rock-face with all his strength.

The shockwave ran immediately up through his arm, and all the way into his jaw, as his axe chipped some small flake of stone away from the cliff-side.

But the door did not stir.

It didn't open.

Fili stared at it, willing it to move, but nothing happened.

Behind him, he heard Legolas chuckle. "It might be faster if you chip at it with your head, dwarf."

"Legolas, please!" Tauriel sounded impatient. "We need to get inside. We need to think!"

Fili tried to think. How could the mountain possibly recognise him? Was it magic? Was it a key? And just who was eligible for this? Maybe it was only Thorin. He was, after all, the king. Or did the charm extend out to Thorin's entire family network, or to people connected with them? People like Sigrid. Or Tauriel?

He closed his eyes, picturing her face as he'd last seen her, smiling at him desperately even through her fear, and he felt his heart tearing in two.

Bard will find her in Dale, and all the rest of them. She doesn't need me right now – I can't help her. I can only help Thorin, and Kili...

But how can I help any of them, if I can't even open this door!

He let the axe drop to the ground beside him, and gripped the rock-face with the tips of his fingers, trying with all his concentration to find some kind of opening around the door – some kind of hinge that could be prised open. But there was nothing. It felt just like regular stone.

And behind him, he heard Legolas clearing his throat. "I believe my father has books on dwarven magic – I imagine he knows more about your magical traditions than your own people do. I could go back and fetch one from Mirkwood if you like, Fili? It might save some time?"

Fili gave into his frustrations, and pounded on the door with his fist. He only struck the rock-face once, but it was enough to break the skin on his knuckles and draw blood. He felt the rage dissipate slightly through the pain on his hand, and turned around to face the now-silent elf-prince who'd been goading him all morning.

But it was Tauriel who raised her finger and pointed. "Fili – the door moved!"

He veered back round to check, and sure enough, a dark slit about an inch wide had appeared on one corner of the rock. He tried prising it with his hand again, but it wouldn't budge from muscular strength alone.

Bilbo spoke up, excited. "Try knocking it again, Fili!"

He tried wrapping it with his pain-free, uninjured hand this time, but the door stayed stubbornly still, and suddenly, Fili understood.

It's the blood. It opens with blood.

Without a word to the others, he reached into his belt for one of his hunting knives, and drew it from the sheath. The pointed end gleamed wickedly, and Fili thought for a second, then plunged it down across the tip of his left hand's index finger. Blood burst to the surface immediately, welling up in a big, red globule, and without a moment's hesitation, the dwarf smeared his bleeding finger across the mountain door.

And as the door swung noisily open, he awarded himself a little smile of victory.

"You will know a king not by the crown he wears, but by the selflessness in which he rules. The cornerstone of kingship is sacrifice, Fili. And sometimes that sacrifice means your own blood needs to be spilled."

He remembered the words of his mother, as she sat him on her lap the day after his father had died. It was a motto he'd tried to live by, more than any of the rest of his family. He wondered if whoever had built the door had taken the old Khuzdul saying to heart.

"You opened it!" He heard Tauriel behind him, jubilant. She sidled up beside him, and touched his arm gently. "Thank you, Fili. I knew you'd do it." And she waved to Bilbo and Legolas, who stood staring somewhat apprehensively at the yawning black opening on the rock-face. "Come on, let's go!"

And without waiting for the rest of them, she strode through the door and inside the mountain, leaving her companions behind.

Fili turned to Legolas, and mock-bowed. "My prince, after you. Welcome to Erebor."

The elf scowled at him. "Will it close behind us? We might need to get out in a hurry, and you might not be here with us when we leave."

The dwarf shrugged, and raised his eyebrow at the hobbit. "I don't know, Legolas. You're not afraid of being stuck inside the mountain, are you? There will be candles on the way if the dark distresses you."

"You're very amusing, dwarf." Legolas growled, and marched through the door.

Fili waved the hobbit through next, then took a careful look all around the mountainside, checking for unwanted witnesses to their entrance. Satisfied they were all alone, he stepped into the dark passage himself, drawing his sword in readiness, and felt a cold gust of wind at his back as he strode downwards into the darkness.

In the dark tunnels that threaded for miles under the summit of the Lonely Mountain, a faint draft stirred and brought a new chill to the lower corridors, encased as they were in the deep earth's warm embrace.

Lying on the hard dirt floor, Sigrid opened her eyes with a start, and drew herself into a ball on her knees, trying to warm herself. She didn't remember falling asleep – she'd sat down in the narrow corridor and allowed herself to cry for a while, but she must have been more tired than she'd realised. Her stomach was telling her it was way past her normal rising time – and her muscles told her she'd been cold for too long. Not that she cared, particularly – time had very little meaning down here in these black, muffled tunnels.

She forced herself onto her feet as gently as she could, and stomped at them to try and get her blood running again, but it was no use. The temperature had dropped, and it was time to move on again.

Fili might be gone, but his brother isn't. I need to find Kili, before it's too late for him. Then I can sleep.

She forced herself onwards down the tunnel, making for the lights she could see at the far end – they hadn't been there earlier, she was sure of it – and tried to fight the sudden spell of dizziness that surged through her. It had been a long time since she'd had anything to drink, and she was thirsty.

She fancied, walking on, that she could hear water flowing, and she wondered with a shiver whether it was the start of a delirium. If all the tears she'd cried last night had tipped her over the edge from misery to insanity, and she just didn't realise it. Because that's what they said about mad people, wasn't it? They never knew they were mad, and so how would she know if she was delirious or not?

And it wouldn't take much to lose your way down these passages – you wouldn't even need to be particularly mad, or all that delirious – just a little bit confused would be enough. And you could be wandering around for days, doubling back on yourself and going round in circles, with nobody knowing you were here at all – until you dropped to your knees with exhaustion, and never found the strength to make it back up again.

And then nobody would ever find you. You'd be a pile of dry bones – a lonely husk hidden away in the darkness until the mountain turned to dusk at the end of all eternity, and the last trace of your existence was finally erased forever.

I need to find something to drink. I don't want to get lost down here!

She stopped, as the passageway opened out on one side to reveal a large, dimly-lit chamber off to the left. Strange smells swirled around in the air here, with a welcome warmth that made her skin rejoice. But she was sure she could hear running water – there was a gurgling, splashing noise coming from within the chamber, and Sigrid decided in an instant to abandon her tunnel.

Looking around intently, she saw the room was deserted. Large stone troughs perched on elevated walkways running across the floor, while from the high, columned ceiling – invisible in the gloom far above her head – large chains and pulleys hung down low to the ground. The whole scene was bathed in a yellow shimmering light, emanating from the gaps she could see in the floor, and Sigrid understood finally where she was.

This must be the forge room – there has to be a water-pipe in here!

Her eyes searched for it, flitting back and forth between the flickering shadows as the fiery shimmer crept along the walls and threw her perspective off balance. But she spied it – on the longer wall off to her right. There was a trickle of water, spilling out from up high on the wall and falling into a dark reservoir of water just below floor level.

Taking a quick glance around for a final time, she scuttled out of her hidden portal, and ran straight across the forge chamber. The room seemed bigger as she crossed it now, and more disorientating. Part of her wanted to admire the pretty golden glow that danced all round the walls, but her thirst was too strong. Sigrid ran straight to the side of the small, square reservoir and dropped to her knees. The water was within reach – if she leant all the way in with her arms – but it was warm to the touch, and after she licked her finger and decided it was clean, she gulped as much as her hands could manage.

And it was the most delicious water she could remember ever drinking.

She slowed down, after a minute, and tried to take in some of her surroundings, idly wondering which way she should go from here on in. Was it likely that the prisoners were held anywhere near the forge? She had no idea about dwarven architectural standards.

Her newfound contentment was soon shattered when she heard footsteps coming her way. She stiffened at once, and ducked down flat on the ground, her head arcing round to discern the origin of this new, ominous noise. There was a large door straight in front of her, by the far wall – presumably it was the main door into this room – but the footsteps were coming closer, and she couldn't tell where from. She knew, with a sinking feeling, that she didn't have time to run back to her passageway.

She froze as she heard a woman's voice, one that she recognised all too well, and looked around desperately for somewhere to hide.

"It is all set up then, my lord?"

There was nothing else for it. Sigrid rolled herself off the tiled floor and slid into the water tank, trying to minimise her splash and duck her head below floor level before she could be seen.

The water was not as warm as she'd thought.

"It is done. The prisoners are ready for sorting. Keep those you wish."

Sigrid recognised the deeper voice from earlier, and felt her skin crawl in disgust. She tried to hold herself still in the deep, dark water, gripping the near side with her hands, and bracing off the other with her toes. She didn't want them to hear the water splash and look her way...

"Excellent. I will attend to my new people when we have finished up in here!" Rose laughed, a high-pitched, girlish sound, that echoed round the room. "Are you ready yet, my friend?"

The white fiend next to her grunted angrily. "I have Oakenshield and his younger nephew. The plans are set for them to die." There was a tender, almost loving stress on his final word, and in her mind's eye Sigrid could picture the big beast lolling its tongue over its grey, swollen lips.

"But I have no luck catching the older nephew – my son has not yet found him." Sigrid heard something smash on the floor, close to the voices, and her eyes widened. "I want him to die with the others. I want to destroy them all! I will not allow even one of that filthy bloodline to survive!"

Sigrid closed her eyes, her heart beating faster in her chest.

Fili – he's talking about Fili. He's still alive! She must have been lying earlier – my father and Fili haven't drowned – they're both alive...

She felt a hot tear tickle down her cheek, and she squeezed her eyes shut as far as they would go, afraid she might make a sound.

"He won't stay hidden for long. Once the Laketown people are put to the sword, he'll soon show himself. That family are all the same. Any opportunity for a bit of moralistic heroism! Have your son stay hidden in Dale, and wait for the other nephew to arrive."

Sigrid frowned as she heard a wet, slurping noise, and felt her stomach flip. Surely that woman wasn't kissing the orc-beast?

"Are you going to delay Oakenshield's execution, my lord? I would like to see it. And so would the people of Laketown – we will show them what happens to people who stand against us."

"Oakenshield and his heir will die," came the hissed reply. "It is all ready. I will wait no longer. I will have them brought here now..."

"Excellent, my king."

Sigrid opened her eyes, hearing the sound of feet marching towards the door. She felt suddenly very trapped in her water tank – what if one of them walked over and saw her from the side?

"Guards – bring the prisoners from their cell. Bring them here now, and make sure they are both blindfolded when they arrive. We don't want to spoil the surprise now, do we?"

And the woman's tinny laugh raced manically round the room again, rising up the ceiling in a high-pitched, wavering torrent, then dropping down like a leaden weight, landing hard on the ground and seeping through the polished, tiled floor at her feet.