Three weeks passed in the Woodland Realm, and Kíli was about to go out of his mind.

True to his word, he searched whenever possible for a way out, and ditching his elven shadows became simpler over time. His quick smile and lighthearted manner seemed to put many of them at ease, and Thranduil himself seemed to be giving the brothers a little more space. Guards were no longer posted inside the room, so Fíli and Kíli were finally allowed a bit of privacy. Fíli suspected it to be a trick on the king's part - perhaps he hoped they'd become more trusting and open up about themselves. With that in mind, the two remained wary.

Fíli's health was improving slowly, but the physician at last allowed him out of bed. Although he became exhausted quickly, those first few moments on his own legs were such a relief. It was recommended that he walk a bit every day to exercise his muscles and gradually regain his stamina. Kíli was usually the one to accompany him - along with an elf or two - but every now and then, Thranduil would join them. It was on these days that Kíli began to wander off.

The captain of the guard or one of her elves would go with him, and for the most part he was allowed to explore as he liked with the occasional subtle nudge away from areas that were off limits. He noted these places in his mind, though, hoping to return to them if ever the elves left him unattended. One day he was granted just such an opportunity.

Kíli had to force himself to walk, smile and wave at those he passed as he tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible. There was a particular stairwell that struck him in particular, and he was eager to see what he could find. Perhaps it was the nature of his blood that drew him deeper underground, for surely the exits were on the upper levels? Whatever the reason, he wove his way down along twists and turns, stepping lightly and quickly along pathways carved and worn into enormous roots that grew down from the forest above. These trees were ancient, indeed.

There were fewer elves down below, and if he encountered one at all, he strode with confidence and did his best to appear as if his being there were the most natural thing in the world. For the most part, the elves only spared him curious glances. He hoped he would find a way out before word reached the captain of his whereabouts. There was no doubt in his mind that she'd keep him from wandering on his own in future, but if he could find an escape now, he was sure that Fíli could think of a way to slip past the elves later.

Thorin and Dwalin were waiting anxiously when Bilbo returned. In the weeks since his discovery of Bofur, Bifur and Bombur, the hobbit closely followed the redheaded captain, finding the other dwarves singularly and in pairs. In this, his most recent search, he finally found Balin.

"Well?" Thorin prompted. Bilbo didn't bother to hide his grin, and relief glowed in Thorin's eyes. "Now we find a way to get them out, but we can't sneak them out through here. Eleven dwarves will never make it past those elves, and I'll not leave anyone behind in this place, not even for a moment. I won't risk it."

Bilbo nodded and began to pace, running through his mental map of the labyrinth above. Once or twice, Thorin and Dwalin tried to speak, but Bilbo shushed them with a frustrated flap of his hand. After several minutes, an idea started to form. It had to be one of the craziest ideas a Baggins had ever had, but it was something.

"I've the beginnings of an idea," he announced.

"What do we need to do?" Thorin asked. He and Dwalin watched Bilbo expectantly, and the hobbit found himself quite at a loss for words. A month ago, he wouldn't have thought a day would come when Thorin Oakenshield, world-wise King Under the Mountain would defer to the judgement of a gentle-hobbit from the Shire. Now here he was, putting the fate of his people in that same hobbit's hands, and Bilbo didn't know what to do with that. Realizing Thorin and Dwalin were still waiting and that he was gaping at them, he shook himself and adopted his most confident and matter-of-fact tone.

"Right, well, yes. We can't do anything just yet. There are some things I need to see to first. If we're going to get them all out at once, we need a distraction. Luckily, there'll be one in a couple days."

"What do you mean?" interrupted Dwalin.

"They've been preparing for a huge feast up there - some sort of holiday. All the elves can talk about is how potent the king's wine is. Our best chance will be then."

"What do you need?" Thorin asked.

"For now, stay here," Bilbo said. "I have to go check on the others and tell them to be ready. Then I must figure out a way to get the captain's keys. Once I've got the first dwarves out, I can't parade them all over while I get everyone else. I'll bring them here to you - as quick as I can - and I'll need you to wait until we're together. Once I've freed everyone, we'll make our escape."

Thorin and Dwalin nodded and grinned at each other in a way that left Bilbo with a vivid image of two young mischievous dwarves. What absolute terrors they must have been! he thought to himself. That image was immediately followed by one of Fíli and Kíli, and he sobered instantly. He'd seen no sign of them in the dungeons, despite the small hope he'd held, and sorrow took root in his chest. They'd lost them so early in the forest. It was becoming more and more likely they would never see the lads again.

Fíli's knees gave, making him stumble, and Thranduil took his good arm to steady him. He nodded his thanks and wiped at the sweat beading on his brow with the cuff of his sleeve.

"Catch your breath," the king murmured. "We are almost there."

This walk had been longer and more exhausting than the others previous, and Fíli was fighing to hide just how lightheaded he was. His shoulder and leg throbbed where the spider had bitten him, and his breathing was ragged in his own ears. He glanced up at Thranduil, but the elf's gaze was patient and kind. When Fíli's pulse steadied and his breathing became more even, he straightened and squared his shoulders, signaling that he was ready to continue.

Thranduil smiled obligingly and glided forward once more. Not for the first time, Fíli was reminded of a stag - strong and proud. The king led him through a pair of intricately carved doors of immense size which were flung wide. Thranduil and Fíli stepped between them and into a space that was much smaller in comparison to the other rooms Fíli had seen thusfar.

It was cozy and comfortable space with low furniture and a table covered in parchment and scrolls of varying sizes. A decanter of red liquid sat near the edge of the oddly cluttered surface, and Fíli couldn't help but wonder at the lived in appearance of the space. A statue of an elven maid stood in the center of it all, and at her feet was a shallow pool of water in which lotuses bloomed. Her lips curled in a delicate smile, and her hair fell in soft waves across her shoulders and down her back. The adoring look on her face reminded Fíli of his mother when she looked at himself and his brother. A glimpse of what lay beyond her shoulder caught his attention. A great opening like the mouth of a cave yawned behind her, offering a spectacular view across the treetops of Mirkwood all the way to...

Fíli's jaw dropped. A peak thrust above the horizon - a mountain standing alone beyond the forest. The mountain. It was so close! Fíli realized Thranduil was gazing evenly at him, so he promptly closed his mouth.

"Beautiful, is she not?" asked Thranduil, though from the look in his eyes, Fíli got the feeling that he wasn't necessarily speaking about the statue. Hoping to steer away from the topic of the mountain, Fíli nodded and cleared his throat as Thranduil led him to a chair.

"She's lovely," he agreed, glancing again at the maiden. "Who is the lady that inspired the craftsman?"

Thranduil's eyes softened when he answered. "She was my bride."

The fact that the king was speaking in the past was not lost on Fíli. He was quiet for a short time, wanting to ask what had happened to the beautiful queen while knowing full well that it was not his place to pry. He rubbed his bad leg, trying to ease the throbbing. Thranduil noted the action and moved to the table, reaching for the decanter. He poured a small glass and offered it to Fíli.

"It will ease the pain."

Fíli took the glass and sniffed at the liquid. The smell of the wine alone began to numb his mind to the pain. He took a tentative sip, and warmth spread through his body. He chuckled.

"Potent stuff."

Thranduil smiled. "There is no finer wine in all the world," the king boasted.

The statement only solidified Fíli's resolve not to drink any more of it. He needed a clear head at all times when Thranduil was around. A loose tongue was not an option. The king settled into a chair across from Fíli, and he poured himself a glass, taking a long, appreciative swallow of the dark liquid. Then he fixed his eyes on Fíli's, and the silence stretched.

"Who are you?"

Fíli blinked. He had suspected that he'd been brought here for interrogation, but he hadn't expected Thranduil to be so blunt. Fíli decided to stick to the truth as much as possible.

"A blacksmith and part time escort for merchants."

Thranduil's eyes narrowed. "I very much doubt that is who you truly are."

Fíli shrugged. He hadn't lied, really.

"You bear a remarkable resemblance to someone I've met before," Thranduil murmured.

Fíli chuckled. "This is the first time I've ever been in this part of the world," he said.

"Indeed. And what, pray, brings two young dwarves into 'this part' of the world?"

"We're travelling to see our kin in the Iron Hills."

"Do you take me for a fool, dwarf?"

Thranduil's voice had a steely edge. Fíli swallowed. It had been the first and only excuse to come to mind.

"I would not make such a mistake, Your Majesty," Fíli said.

"Tell me, then, Fíli: why are the heirs of Thorin son of Thrain in my realm?"

Fíli's heart skipped a beat.

Kíli stopped at an intersection, trying to decide which path to take. He'd been exploring for what felt like a long time, and he figured that the captain or someone else would come looking for him soon. He frowned heavily and glared at each option. So far he hadn't seen anything that even remotely looked like an exit, and it was frustrating him to no end. It was for this reason that he didn't notice the presence behind him.

"Kíli?!"

The dwarf nearly jumped out of his skin. "What the-?"

He whipped his head this way and that, searching for the speaker. It sounded like...

"Bilbo?"

The hobbit suddenly appeared out of the shadows and pulled Kíli into a tight hug. Kíli laughed, so relieved was he to see his friend again.

"Bilbo, how did you get here? What happened to everyone else? Are they alright?" he asked, pulling away.

"Yes, they're all alright, considering the circumstances. It's a long story, but I don't have the time to tell it just now," Bilbo said. "Where's Fíli? And what are you doing wandering free?"

"He's walking with Thranduil...HA! Bilbo, you should see your face! I suppose I have some explaining of my own to do, but what do you mean 'wandering free'?"

"Haven't they been keeping you locked up?"

"No...are the others?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"It figures that Thranduil would keep that to himself," Kíli growled.

"Don't worry!" Bilbo said. "I have a plan to get us all out of here. Can you come back again?"

Kíli shook his head. "I may not get another chance after today. I'm not usually allowed to wander off."

"I see." Bilbo folded his arms and tapped his temple while he thought. "I'll follow you back, then, so I can find you when the time comes."

"What? No! You'll be seen."

Bilbo grinned. "No I won't. I'm a burglar, remember?"

Fíli swallowed and placed his glass on the table. He had no idea how much the king knew about him, but Thranduil was waiting for an answer. His gut told him to tell the truth - all of it - but his head warred with that feeling. This was the Thranduil that stood by and did nothing when Smaug destroyed Dale and invaded the Lonely Mountain. This was the Thranduil that refused aid to the refugees of Erebor. So why did he feel like telling this elf everything was the best course? Over the king's shoulder, he spotted the queen's statue. He remembered the soft look Thranduil wore when he spoke of her and the aid and hospitality he and Kíli had received.

"We are going to reclaim our homeland."

Thranduil blinked slowly. "Some forthrightness at last," he said and rose from his chair. "I am pleased to find you as honest as Elrond believes you to be."

Fíli's lips parted in surprise. "What?"

Thranduil's brows lifted. "Elrond is an old friend of mine, and he knows I don't take kindly to surprises, though he omitted the minute detail of your lineage. I admit that your kinship to Thorin was not immediately apparent, but aside from the blonde hair, you bear a striking resemblence. You must be special indeed for Elrond to claim you as one of his own. I am bound by honor to allow you safe passage through my realm."

Well, then. Fíli didn't know how to respond to that at all.

"However...I am not sure that I can keep my word."

A knot formed in Fíli's stomach, and he could feel his brief good fortune slipping through his fingers. Thranduil strode over to the likeness of his queen and stood with his hands clasped behind his back.

"There was another promise I made long ago. If I must choose between one or the other, my vow to her far outweighs my duty to Elrond."

Fíli stood, cringing over the stiffness of his limbs and limped to Thranduil's side. "O King," he began. Balin's lessons resurfaced in his mind as he prepared to petition Thranduil for he and Kíli's release. "Surely we can come to an understanding."

When the elf looked down at him, it was with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

"Have you ever battled a dragon, young prince?"

"No."

"I have. They are merciless terrors with impenetrable hides. They have no remorse. They destroy entire settlements - entire kingdoms in the slightest fraction of the time it took to build them. Dragons have no weaknesses, save for their own greed, and even the strongest and most clever warriors fall among the numerous victims who lie in their wake. Many lifetimes ago, my people fell prey to a waking nightmare. A series of attacks left us ruined, and a kingdom that was once widespread and prosperous had become a withered shadow of its former glory. When we finally drove the dragons back into the north there were countless dead, and she..."

Thranduil's voice trailed off as he gazed into the statue's eyes. He lifted a hand and traced slender fingers down her cheek in a soft caress. "I found her among the dying. Her wounds were too severe for the skill of the healers - all they could do was ease the pain of her passing. I swore that I would never allow such a tragedy to befall us again."

Fíli saw then something that he never expected. The same burden - the same loss - that he often beheld in Thorin furrowed Thranduil's brow and glistened in his eyes. How different were the two of them, really?

"You're worried we won't succeed."

Thranduil blinked rapidly and looked down at him as if he'd forgotten he was there. "How can you?"

Fíli pursed his lips. He didn't want to tell Thranduil about the hidden door, and without the map and key, what did it matter? They were with Thorin, wherever he was.

"We have an advantage. It's a small one, but it's all we have."

"Indeed?" Thranduil waited, but it was clear Fíli wasn't going to elaborate on that point. The king gazed out at the mountain for a few moments. He slipped a hand into a hidden pocket in his robe. When he drew it out, he was holding a feather. Baranthor's feather.

"I believe this belongs to you," Thranduil said.

"Yes," Fíli murmured. Just the memory of his flight with his friend calmed him considerably.

"Great Eagles possess insight like no other creature in this world. It is rare for them to form a bond of any kind with land dwellers. And yet, you've made a friend of one. The gift of this feather is no small thing."

Fíli nodded. "I know."

"I am compelled to believe that you mean well, but I cannot allow you to reach the mountain."

Fíli couldn't answer. He was too furious.

The king changed tack. "The physician tells me you suffer from nightmares."

"What of it?"

"Elrond told me of your fate - that you are determined to fight it."

"So?"

"You are not the first to war against fate, Prince, and in all wars, there are grave consequences. These terrible things you see in your sleep - they are fates you have avoided."

"What do you mean?" Fíli's limped back to the chair, his energy spent. He dropped onto it with a grunt.

"Choices, large or small, have impacts on the course of the future. Your fate is so pivotal that diverting from that path affects countless lives. The consequence is having to experience each altered event. Fate is not changed easily. There must be a balance in all things, and because of the shift you've caused, fate is attempting to correct the course in order to restore that balance."

"If every nightmare is something I've avoided, then...what does it mean if I have the same one twice?"

"Have you?" Thranduil asked.

"Well...no. But if I did?"

Thranduil tipped his head to the side, regarding Fíli steadily. "Not all possibilities are wholly separate. Some paths overlap, with multiple choices leading to the same outcome. A repeating dream would most likely mean that that particular fate is not based on your choices alone. Someone else will have to alter his or her own path as well."

"FILI AND KILI ARE ALIVE!" Bilbo erupted as he returned. Thorin and Dwalin looked up sharply.

"They're alright! They're somewhere in the upper levels."

"You saw them?" Thorin asked, his voice unsteady.

"Yes!" Bilbo nodded vigorously. "Well, I saw Kíli - ran into him, more like. He said that Fíli was brought here too."

Thorin stared at the hobbit for a moment before he started laughing, and pretty soon Dwalin and Bilbo joined him in the high that accompanies intense relief. Once more, it seemed to Bilbo that the years melted away from the dwarves as the weight of sorrow melted off their shoulders. They stood straighter now, with a light in their eyes that he hadn't seen since that night in Bag End all those months ago.

"Bless your luck, Bilbo Baggins," Thorin laughed. "You've made us whole once more."

Kíli leapt up as Fíli limped slowly through the door. His older brother was pale, his eyes sunken and shadowed. His knees gave beneath him as Kíli took his weight, and the two shuffled toward the bed.

"Fíli, you're not supposed to push yourself!" Kíli grunted as he helped Fíli roll onto the soft mattress. He reached quickly for the waiting broth and lifted Fíli's head to help him sip it. After a few minutes, the elder's face relaxed and the pained look in his eyes disappeared.

"Better?" Kíli asked. Fíli sighed.

"It's no use, Kíli. He'll never let us go."

Kíli frowned. His brother's tone was dismal and defeated - not like Fíli at all. "Well, you'd best cheer up, then," Kíli said with a grin and a wink, "because in two days he'll no longer have a say in the matter."

"You found something?" Fíli struggled to sit up. Kíli pushed him back.

"Not something. Someone. Or, more specifically, someone found me."

Fíli couldn't help but grin. "Just tell me, already."

"Bilbo."

For the third time that day, Fíli's jaw fell open. It was getting to be a terrible habit. "Bilbo's here?"

"Everyone is!"

"Wait. Where?"

Here Kíli grimaced. "Thranduil has them locked up."

"Does he, now?" Fíli's voice was dangerous, and his eyes glinted with a hard light. Any similarities he saw between the elf king and Thorin faded into the back of his mind. There was only indignation in its place now - a smoldering rage over all the injustices Thranduil had committed.

"Easy, Fíli," Kíli said. "The vein in your forehead is bulging."

"The sooner we get out of here, the better. What does Bilbo have in mind?"

"There's a big celebration in two days. He said all the elves can talk about is the king's wine and how potent it is. The party is supposed to last a few days, but Bilbo said our best chance will be the first night."

"Will we meet him somewhere?"

"He'll come find us."

They fell silent as a knock sounded on the door. The physician stepped inside, a smile on his face. "Time to change those dressings, Master Fíli."

The elf tutted and tsked as he unwound the bandages, looking severly displeased with the state of Fíli's wounds. "You shouldn't have had to be so active so soon. He must stop pushing you so hard," he muttered.

Kíli looked up at him in surprise. He had not heard any elves speak ill of Thranduil before, and this outburst, however small, was quite unexpected. The physician cleaned the wounds and applied new poultices, wrapping them neatly and snugly with fresh bandages.

"There, now. Are you in a lot of pain?"

"A bit," Fíli admitted.

The physician nodded and pulled a vial out of the pouch at his side. "This is a more concentrated dose of the medicine with a bit of something for the pain."

Fíli accepted it without question and knocked it back with one swallow. Kíli lifted a hand to protest, but his brother was already burrowing into the pillows, his breathing coming more even. Light snores followed soon after.

"He must've really been hurting," Kíli mumbled.

"So it appears," said the physician. His tone was sad, and when Kíli glanced at him, he was shaking his head.

"What is it?"

"It burdens me to see someone who is so unwell abused like this. He is not well enough for such activity. I said brief walks on this level. But then, His Majesty shows little regard for those other than his own people - if you call secluding and smothering them in this place high regard."

Kíli frowned. Is everyone kept here against their will? The thought brought his mind back to Bilbo's plan. There was something Kíli desperately needed to know.

"How long until Fíli won't need the medicine?"

The physician scratched his jaw as he thought. "Nine days. Though the poison is gone, he will need regular administrations to fully repair his muscles and organs."

Kíli crossed his arms and worried at a thumbnail with his teeth. "What would happen if he missed a treatment?"

The elf was already shaking his head before Kíli finished speaking. "At this stage, he is too weak. Without the medicine, his body would be unable to repair itself, and he would suffer a relapse."

Kíli looked at him, horrified. "His body would break down all over again?"

The elf nodded. "At a much more accelerated rate, I'm afraid. He would not last more than a week."

Kíli glanced at his brother and covered his mouth with a fist to hide the slight tremor in his chin.

"Not to worry, Master Kíli. I will make sure he has the medicine when he needs it."

After the physician left, Kíli punched the bed in frustration. There had to be a way to get his hands on that medicine.